February 19 – “Are you okay?”

 

 

I finally finished the grueling task of gathering together all of our income tax stuff.  I have it all packaged up and the big enveloped is addressed and ready to send off to our accountant.  It feels kind of strange to be sending it to someone other than Jeff, the guy who has done our taxes for years.  He was a specialist in pastors' tax oddities, so it will be hard to completely trust the company they sold out to until they prove themselves. 

 

I guess I obsess about that process more than most folks do, and certainly more than I do about anything else.  Except maybe back when I was organizing my baseball cards.  That took a lot of hours, especially when I kept stopping to look up the current values.  Hmm.  Wonder if I could sell some of them now and pay whatever I'll owe on taxes.  Guess that wouldn't bode well with my heirs.  The baseball cards are just about the only cool legacy I have for them.  Well, maybe they'll get a kick out of the stuff Chris has stored in the attic.  It's everything she could salvage from their childhood that survived Hurricane Ike. 

 

Since it was Saturday Chris and I let Mom sleep in.  I was wondering just how long she would actually stay in bed, but Chris couldn't stand it.  She woke her up around noon and convinced her to eat some breakfast.  While she was eating we ran over to WalMart to pick up some chocolate milk.  Gotta have that chocolate milk.  When we returned Mom was asleep at the table.  She stayed up for a while, dozing on the couch, but at some point she sneaked back into bed.  Chris got her up around six to eat some supper.  At that point she stayed up and even stayed awake.  We watched a few of the disaster movies on the Sci-Fi channel marathon.  Volcanoes erupting in downtown Miami.  Oh, and the Ice Age 2012 one.  That was one of the worst movies I have seen in a long time.  We should have starting counting the number of times characters said, "Are you okay?  Are you okay?"  Very bad.  Very, very bad. 

 

Mom asked me what time it was around 9:30.  She asked last night around 6, but she followed up by saying, "You don't mind if I don't believe you, do you?"  OK.  I told her I didn't mind, but whether I minded or not wouldn't change what time it was.  When we head to bed around ten or ten-thirty, Chris has to convince her that we really are going to sleep.  We offer to let her stay up and watch TV, but she shuffles on down the hall to her bedroom and crawls back into bed.  Yes, we asked the neurologist about all the sleeping.  He said it was probably related to an Alzheimer's symptom.  Some patients go roaming and rarely sleep.  Others do the exact opposite and rarely stay awake.  She is apparently in category two.  I think if I had a choice I'd pick the roaming.  At least I wouldn't miss anything.  Although catching up on a lifetime of missed sleep certainly has its plusses. 

 

Isaiah 65:1 says, "I revealed myself to those who did not ask for me; I was found by those who did not seek me.  To a nation that did not call on my name, I said, 'Here am I, here am I.'"

 

Father, would you do that again?  I know a nation or two that could sure use your presence.  Amen.

February 18 – “Rain”

 

 

What a morning.  It has been raining pretty hard off and on all night, and it's obvious that we're not done yet.  I heard we are under a flash flood watch.  I can see why.  Of course it also made for some great sleeping weather when it wasn't thundering.  In fact I didn't get out of bed until after 7.  That's really sleeping in for me.  We are assuming Jachin's football game is rained out.  Wonder how this will affect all the Mardi Gras activities.  Not that we would have gone anyway.  Our contribution to the Mardi Gras season usually consists of going to the children's parade on Sunday afternoon.  We'll see.  And Nathan picked up some overtime hours to work on the Strand today.  That won't be any fun.  Hope he has an umbrella.  Or maybe he can wear his bunker gear.  That's waterproof, isn't it? 

 

I began the daunting task of transferring all our photographs into digital format.  That means scanning them one at a time.  Well, actually our scanner can fit six at a time.  That helped a little bit, but I still had to drag the outline over one picture and then select that I wanted to add another one … five more times.  Not difficult, but it took a long time.  Then for some strange reason the scanner finally figured out what I was doing.  It started selecting all six of them so all I had to do was choose the finish command.  Much more efficient.  Still … after hours of scanning, all I have done is a little over half of one book.  Chris takes a lot of pictures. 

 

We had one "cute moment" yesterday when we kept Josiah for an hour or so while his Mom took his brothers to the library.  He's not yet two years old.  He was roaming the house, taking in the sights.  When he saw something that interested him, he would point at it and apparently say what he thought it was.  You know, "Dog.  DadDad's books."  That kind of thing.  Much of the time we could figure out what he was saying by considering the context.  At one point his eyes lit up.  Well, his whole face lit up in that way only little kids can do effectively.  He saw something he knew for sure.  And he announced it over and over, "Cheese.  Cheese."  Now we weren't in the kitchen, so we figured he wasn't hungry.  So we carefully followed the direction of his latest point and saw it right away.  It was one of the pictures of all the grandkids Chris got for Christmas.  He was in it, and obviously remembered the command of the photographer just before the flash went off, "Say cheese."  Cute, right?

 

Isaiah 64:8 says, "Yet, O Lord, you are our Father.  We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand."

 

Father, please keep on molding.  I've got a long way to go to be a truly useful pot.  Amen.

February 17 – “Steps forward”

 

 

There has been a change concerning the benefit for Nathan and April on the 25^th.  The event is still on, and it will still be amazing, but the organizers and cooks have decided that it would be counter-productive to try to offer two so vastly different-to-prepare food choices.  So, to keep everything simpler, now the dinner will simply be barbequed chicken.  Hey, simpler is always good.

 

April is doing well.  She's getting more and more strength back every day, and she even went back to class yesterday.  That was a big obstacle to overcome, and she still has to work out a special schedule to make up what she missed and pick up her clinical hours when she is released to do them.  But it was definitely a move forward.  She even felt well enough to celebrate with a shopping trip to the mall.  I understand that was probably an important piece of her recovery puzzle in some female, I-will-never-understand-in-a-million-years kind of way.  But I'm glad she could do it.

                                        

Last night I was called up to Clear Lake to make a hospital visit.  Our youth pastor's Dad has had two heart attacks in the last week, so he is being followed carefully.  He asked Mike of I could come up and pray with him.  Don is a great guy.  He obviously loves his family, and he had nothing but pride in his voice as he talked about them.  And underlying everything he communicated a sense of peace about his life and death that said he was ready for whatever God had prepared for him next.  Of course he would just as soon stick around a while longer, and his family obviously concurred.  I know there is still fear and uncertainty, and well there should be.  But Don is ready for whatever comes next.  He said he was going take things one day at a time.  Great attitude.  Reminded me of Matthew 6:33-34:

 

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

 

Father, thank you for "forward."  Great concept.  Amen.        

February 16 – “Diagnosis”

 

 

Happy birthday, Son Josh.

 

No, that's not the diagnosis.  But we did get one for what has been causing April's problems.  She had an appointment with the Infectious Disease doctor yesterday, and he unloaded one of those multi-letter syndrome names on them.  Nathan wrote it down, of course, and the doctor was very patient with him so he could get it all spelled right.  Then he proceeded to say, "Now don't look that up on the internet."  Wait.  Why would he say that?  Is there something that he was not revealing?  Well, not exactly.  He followed up with, "If you look it up on the internet, it will just tell you that you only have a few days to live.  That's not the case with April."  Wait.  What?  A few days? 

 

He didn't leave it at that, thank goodness.  He went on to explain pretty much what we had already been told.  Her immune system is really messed up.  It does weird stuff.  Sometimes it's fine.  Sometimes it goes overboard.  Sometimes it doesn't do anything at all.  And sometimes it turns on itself, as it was doing when April's white blood cells were at war with her red cells.  He also told them that her spleen had apparently been bleeding for some time.  It wasn't just a result of the trauma she experienced during her hospital stay.  The plan was for her to touch base with the highly renowned hematology doctor in Houston (that would be Aunt Sue to them).  She would then push them in the direction of the world's leading geneticist, who just happens to be on staff right now at Texas Children's Hospital.  April's biggest concern has always been for Cailyn, and what effects might have been passed on to her.  I guess a geneticist is just the person to see for those kinds of answers. 

 

And so once again we wait.  And … yes, I did it, too … look up that syndrome on the internet.  The symptoms April was having are pretty much all there.  Fever that doesn't necessarily spike.  Low counts on everything in the blood.  Even blood clots, which would mean she has had evidence of this since she was eighteen at least.  It does mention the whole death thing, but I think that part is behind us.  She already went pretty close to that point and made it out on the other side with the help of lots of antibiotics, six days in ICU, a great trauma surgeon, and of course lots of prayer (which, as far as I'm concerned, made possible everything the doctors did). 

 

Isaiah 64:6 says, "All of us have become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous acts are like filthy rags; we all shrivel up like a leaf, and like the wind our sins sweep us away."

 

Father, Thank you for one more step toward clarity for April.  Keep them coming.  Amen.

February 15 – “Gift of a memory”

 

 

Valentine's Day was an interesting one around our house.  I got up before anyone, as usual, and sitting on my desk in front of my computer was my Valentine gift.  Wrapped together in a neatly tied bow of ribbon were one of those giant Nestle Crunch bars and a creamy milk chocolate bar, just as big.  Yummy stuff.  Chris snuck it out before she came to bed the night before.  Great surprise.  I had to wait for her to wake up to pull out my gift for her.  It was hidden in a box in my closet.  No candy or flowers this year.  Instead she received the fruit of my garage projects labor. 

 

The single most difficult thing for Chris to accept losing after Hurricane Ike was her piano.  It was the one she learned to play on when she was a youngster.  It already had a cracked sound board, but there was extreme sentimental value there.  She cried silently when we carried it out of the house, and she really lost it when the Claw reached down and grabbed it and dropped it into the dump truck.  Quite the touching moment, but certainly one of great anguish.  The only thing we salvaged from the old piano was the wire piece that held up the music you played.  It was shaped into a musical score.  We thought we had the long skinny mirror that sat just behind it, but that disappeared into the post-Ike abyss. 

 

So for Chris' gift this year I was faced with the challenge of figuring out what to do with that musical-looking piece of wire.  It took a long time to clean.  It was covered in rust and gunk after sitting in the garage since 2008.  I tried several sprays and sandpapers, and finally got it presentable.  But since it had no practical use that I could think of, my only option was to figure out a way to mount it on something as a display piece.  I finally lit on a piece of our old cedar chest.  The chest itself was a casualty of the storm as well.  The cedar was fine, but the water had dissolved all the glue holding together, so all we had left was a stack of cedar pieces.  I found a piece that was wide enough and mounted the frame on top using brackets.  Nathan came by as I was finishing it up, and he made a suggestion that I followed up on.  I printed out a copy of the song Amazing Grace on some of that thick parchment paper.  Then I tore around the edges so it would look even older.  Finally I glued it in place onto the wire frame so it would look like a piece of music waiting to be played.  Again, there's not really a purpose behind it, other than to be a conversation starter about the storm or the old piano or maybe Chris' childhood.  Something else to dust.  But she seemed to like it.  I think she almost cried, though.  Is that a good thing?

 

Isaiah 64:4 says, "Since ancient times no one has heard, no ear has perceived, no eye has seen any God besides you, who acts on behalf of those who wait for him."

 

Father, that's one thing we're not so good at – waiting.  Could you make forgiveness one of those mighty acts in our behalf?  Amen.

February 14 – “A Valentine’s Day Eve to remember”

 

 

We got confused not once but twice by things Cailyn said yesterday.  Nathan called and asked if we could babysit while he and April just got out of the house for a while.  They went to a movie.  Sounds like a simple date, but every little step toward normalcy for April is huge to us right now. 

 

So.  Chris told me about an interesting request made of her by Cailyn.  They were sitting on the couch reading books.  At one point, as Cailyn slid down Chris' legs to the floor, she got that "aha moment" look in her eye.  She turned toward Chris and said, "Let's do the toilet, Nani."  Now that's an unusual request.  Did she have to go to the bathroom?  Is that some kind of new dance move?  Chris asked, "What is toilet?"  Apparently it wasn't something that a three-year-old could adequately explain, so Cailyn simply announced that "Andy did it."  Thankfully, she soon realized that Chris just didn't get that one, so she moved on to something else.  Chris didn't forget, though.  When Mommy and Daddy came to pick her up she asked about Andy and the toilet.  Seems they were at a friend's house and the guys would lift their legs into the air so the kids could crawl under the "toll road."  Of course.  "Toilet."  "Toll road."  Close enough.

 

At "nap time" Cailyn and I were in her room "resting."  We read some books, but that did little to calm her down.  She simply wasn't ready to crash, unlike her DadDad.  But I held out gamely.  Suddenly she sat up as if remembering something crucial.  She pushed the little doll-sized rocking cradle over by the bed and started singing to the baby doll.  I didn't recognize the song at all, but I picked out the words "My way," interspersed among "Daddy and Mommy and Cailyn and Nani and DadDad and MeeMaw."  The song, however incomprehensible, was incredibly sweet, and I was captivated.  Until she asked me to sing with her.  I tried "Rock a bye baby," but she quickly nixed it.  "No, DadDad.  Not that one.  Do the other song."  I wracked my brains for another possibility.  Did I mention that I was already quite ready to take a nap?  Not much of a flurry if ideas there.  So I just dove right in with my own rendition of "My way.  My way.  My way.  Nani and DadDad.  My way.  Mommy and Daddy.  My way.  MeeMaw.  May way."  She listened, obviously evaluating, for a time before she cut in with a gentle prodding, "And Cailyn, DadDad."  Of course.  I continued, "My way.  Cailyn.  My way.  My way.  My way."  I guess the baby finally went to sleep out of boredom.  Cailyn put her finger to her lips and told me to "Be berry quiet now." 

 

We finally ended the pretense of rest time when she asked me to dance with her.  How could I refuse?  First I picked her up and started turning in circles, but that was not what she wanted.  She wanted show me some of her own moves.  So we joined hands and twirled and pranced down the hall to some of that granddad-granddaughter music we both could hear somewhere in our heads.  We got "the Look" from Nani when we swept past, but we were by then so taken in our revelry that we barely noticed.  A Valentine's Day Eve to remember.

 

Isaiah 61:11 says, "For as the soil makes the sprout come up and a garden causes seeds to grow, so the Sovereign Lord will make righteousness and praise spring up before all nations."

 

Father, we could use some of that righteousness in our nation.  Maybe the praise will have to come up first.  Amen.

February 13 – “You’re not the only one”

 

 

I went to a meeting yesterday afternoon about the benefit the fire department family is planning for Nathan and April.  They have asked me to be in charge of the funds that come in to make sure it is "kept in the family."  Wow.  That's looking to be a big responsibility as this thing is coming together.  On the 25^th starting at 2:00 over at the Firemen's Union Hall on Heard's Lane (7400 block, I think) they have some amazing things set up to happen.  There's going to be a dunking booth, and both of the key mayoral candidates for Galveston have agreed to take a turn.  That should be fun to watch.  Nathan has even agreed to sit on the block for a while.  There's also going to be a mechanical bull available to ride and bouncy houses for the kids.  Sure hope the weather is nice.  Inside there will be a big silent auction.  I say big because I heard some of the things that have already been donated: a deep sea fishing trip, a stay at the Victorian, tutoring by a schoolteacher, a Texas Rangers autographed baseball (that one looks promising), a Ben Crenshaw autographed plaque, numerous gift baskets, artwork, baby quilts, and the list went on and on.  Tickets are now on sale for the food.  For $10 you can get either a fish or chicken dinner.  And that food was all donated as well. 

 

Nathan was at the meeting and he was almost in tears.  His only words were, "We are overwhelmed."  I was pretty much stunned by the sheer volume of it all.  It was the first time I had seen an expression of love like that that wasn't initiated by a church.  And speaking of church, I was proud of Seaside. They contributed several hundred dollars back when April was still in the hospital that they really needed right away.  The afternoon made me recall another Cailyn-ism.  One day at the dinner table Chris and I told her that we love her.  Expecting the politically correct answer, we waited for a "Love you too," or something similar.  Not so with Cailyn.  There is little that is typical with her.  Her response came back, "I love Mommy and Daddy and DadDad and Nani and April and Nathan."  You're not the only one that loves them, Cailyn.  You're not the only one.

 

Isaiah 61:10 says, "I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God.  For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness, as a bridegroom adorns his head like a priest, and as a bride adorns herself with her jewels."

 

Father, the love you show through the people around us makes delighting in you so easy.  Amen.