I grew up in the Angola Methodist church, just 1 1/2 miles from my home. My home is where my great-grandfather decided to purchase land for his farm, and I am living in the original homestead that he built with his own hands, and where the third generation currently remains. My great-great Grandfather, William "Skipper" Traxson was a long-standing member of the Angola Methodist church and helped to establish the church that is such a large part of my life. My father always instilled in his children a great love of history and pride in our family history, and I hope that I can instill the same love of history in my daughter. And in thinking of this history of family intertwined in church family, I have enjoyed reminscing this week about growing up in the Christmas seasons, and all of the blessings and joys I received during this time of year.
My childhood was a happy existence. We were never well-to-do, but we were never without, either. We had food, clothes, a warm place to live, and so much land to explore that we were some of the most imaginative children you could find. My brothers did the occasional sport, but most of the time we were stay at home kids, and this in turn led to the excitement of Christmas at our church. Oh, the thrill of decorating not only the freshly cut cedar tree at our own house, but getting together at our church and decorating with all the other church members, eating delicious treats, and playing with the other children. And the wonderful programs...I loved them so. I always loved to sing, whether my knees knocked together or not, and at the end of the program we would receive a brown paper sack filled with exotic nuts, apples and oranges, then go on to hot coffee for the grown-ups, and hot chocolate for the children with cookies and treats afterwards. I would curl against my grandmother in the back of her large Impala and stare out at the clear, bright skies and search for same star that had led the three Kings to where Jesus lay in a small manger, and think of our own barn as we headed the short distance home. How neat would it be to sleep with the cows and donkeys in a warm barn, surrounded by the smell of hay and animals! (I was an odd child, I must admit.) And to enjoy the beautiful and joyous hyms before and after Christmas made the season precious to me.
I know I'm getting older now, the season has new meaning than when I was a child, and sometimes it saddens me. I lost my wonderful grandmother and father, and the seasons differ somehow, but in a way have become so much more important to me. I suffered from a terminal disease, and I am working hard at enjoying every blessing of each day, especially during the holidays, because I almost lost that beautiful time with my family during the Christmas season. Many times I am ashamed of myself, the bitter anger I feel when the world slaps our faces with injustice, starvation, sickness, and death. Many times I react with anger when I should reach out with love. I focus on the trivialities of life, when I need to step back and examine the full picture. But almost losing my life in this world with my loved ones helped me to refocus on the most beautiful gift of Christmas, and in life itself. The gift of Jesus' birth blessed all of us, He was born to give His unconditional love to each one of us. Without that gift, this season would have no meaning for me. It would be an empty promise of material merchandise without the joy and fulfillment of a pure love that surrounds each of us, supporting us in our darkest moments to our brightest joys.
So amid the rush and chaos of the season, where media shouts at us that we won't be happy unless we buy the latest gadget, or we won't be cool if we don't smell like an underwear model, take a moment to step back and simply breathe, enjoying the warmth that surrounds and fills your heart and soul. That is the gift of Christmas that we truly need, and desperately desire, the love of Christ so pure and unconditional that he came to every one of us without prejudice or bias. A beautiful gift that is entirely the reason for the season.
Friday, December 20, 2013
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Mind Over Matter
I am writing this post a bit late, but that is simply because I have been encompassed in the day to day, and not the mile marks of life. Bear with me, I will try to share what I remember...
I went to Wichita the 11th of October, and took my daughter and mother with me. Gary stayed home, since these long-distance rides really take a toll on his back and knee. Plus, I think he feels a little left out when the giggly girls take off to pick up our packets and run all over the place in the excitement of yet another race. I really can't blame him, I don't exactly fit in with his guy interest in tools, but I am learning. And he has been tremendously supportive, so the fact that he stayed home and held down the home front and took care of all the animals really helped us all to relax.
The one thing that I was excited about was that I would be running another half marathon, and this time it would be after my kidney transplant. I learned how different the half marathon felt this year from dialysis half marathon to new kidney half marathon and I wanted to share:
I went to Wichita the 11th of October, and took my daughter and mother with me. Gary stayed home, since these long-distance rides really take a toll on his back and knee. Plus, I think he feels a little left out when the giggly girls take off to pick up our packets and run all over the place in the excitement of yet another race. I really can't blame him, I don't exactly fit in with his guy interest in tools, but I am learning. And he has been tremendously supportive, so the fact that he stayed home and held down the home front and took care of all the animals really helped us all to relax.
The one thing that I was excited about was that I would be running another half marathon, and this time it would be after my kidney transplant. I learned how different the half marathon felt this year from dialysis half marathon to new kidney half marathon and I wanted to share:
- My dialysis half I was pushing myself to be at least at the three hour mark, even though there was no cut off period for half marathoners. I struggled to run the entire time, and only walked when I developed a massive cramp in my left leg at about the 11th mile. I did make it under 3 hours--by 3 minutes. As each mile added up I was exhausted and running out of energy. My new kidney half I did not push myself, on account that I was not quite 4 months out of major surgery, and my muscles were still healing together again. I enjoyed myself, as I had prepared for this run by running a tenth of a mile, and walking a tenth. The miles passed quickly and I even took a picture of the early morning sun rising as I ran. I felt energetic and happy as I went through each mile.
- My dialysis half I did wear a camelback and wore my mp3 waist belt that also held little energy snacks and gatorade chews and every other little trick in the runner's book. I chewed on the gatorade chew and took the GU creams when I felt I needed a bit of help. I did not stop once to use the bathroom, since I simply didn't feel the need to go until after the race. New kidney half was a different experience all together--I wore a camelbak full of gatorade, and used the same belt as last year, but carried a large bottle of water this year in it. I had all kinds of little tricks this year as well, but I never felt the need to use any of it. (I did partake in a GU vanilla cream this year at mile 11, but it actually hurt more than it helped in my opinion.) And this year I did have to go! I stopped at mile 5 to use the bathroom, since I was starting to feel terribly uncomfortable. It was such a wonderful feeling to feel normal again.
- Dialysis half--despite having a cramp at mile 10, I worked it out with a cup of gatorade and walked it out till I could run at a stilted pace to the finish. New kidney half--I could not run at mile 11 so I started to power walk to my music--Carly Rae Jepsen makes me want to move--and I only managed to run the last .1 to cross the finish line. My legs cramped horribly but I was determined to run across the finish line. A woman that I had met during the run had heard me tell an older gentleman about my transplant and she encouraged me during the race. We managed to cross the line together and congratulated each other. The embarassing moment was when a man came up to me after I crossed the line and asked me if I needed medical attention. I waved him off, and told him I just needed to walk out the cramps, I was fine. Grabbed a gatorade from one of the volunteers gratefully and made my way to get my medal and my finishers shirt.
- My dialysis half my cousin had run the half as well, and she finished about 15 minutes before I had, so she was waiting at the .1 mile to run the last bit with me. She shouted Go! You got this!!! but I had to laugh and tell her that my stilted pace was all that I could manage without going Forest Gump Magic Legs style of run. My new kidney half saw me make the run alone, since my kick-ass cousin did the full marathon this year. This year I waited on my cousin to finish so I could cheer her and her dear friend Jennifer on, and I felt so inspired by them!
- Last year I ran with only my mp3 walkman, and this year I ran with music, but I carried my new phone with a Nike running app, so I could track my tenth of miles to know when to run and when to walk. I was also able to keep track of my mileage with it, pace and time. It helped me relax, and track my progress so that I knew just how much I had to go, and how quickly the time was passing.
- The 2012 half saw a very determined Tracy who wanted to beat a time, and to be a part of something bigger than herself. I was angry at not getting a chance to be put on a transplant list and the fact that I was looking at dialysis for the long haul. I was serious about fighting for my health despite the ravaging effects dialysis has on the body. I wanted to be victorious, and I wanted to show others when we put our minds to do something, anything, we can succeed. The 2013 marathon saw a very grateful, very blessed Tracy. I knew that only by God's grace had I succeeded in both half marathons. I did not worry about my time, but savored every moment of my run...the cool crisp air, the bright clear sunshine, and the wonderful people that surrounded me. Everyone in that race had their own story of inspiration, and I marvelled at the power of the people who surrounded me. I was the inspired, the thankful person who was grateful for being included in such a wonderful event.
- Last half I limped back to Michelle's house and after a hot shower, tightened into a tight ball of pain and did not want to move one bit. This year's half saw me a little sore in the ankles, but I felt wonderful after a quick hot shower, and we hurried to my aunt's house for this amazing spread put on by Tim, Michelle's wonderful husband, and my aunt and mom as well. I ate so well that I should have ran another half to work it off. After visiting with so many wonderful people in our lives (my brothers and my sisters-in-laws as well as Michelle's family of friends and dear inspirations were there), we had to leave for home, since Snowden had school the next day, and I wanted to see my own wonderful husband.
I should mention that I was abnormally cranky the next day, but that turned out to be a precursor to something else, and not due to the run as I thought it might be. I did not expect it, but my daughter became quite serious about wanting to start running with me. We have been on 3 runs together, and it is wonderful cheering her on, and inspiring her to give it just a little more, for a little longer each run that we go on. I know she is an amazing girl, and I am proud to be her momma. And I hope that the love of running stays with her...because it certainly has saved her momma.
Friday, September 13, 2013
It Has Been A Full 12 Years--Almost a Lifetime
A few days ago everyone remembered, in some way, the tragedy America suffered as a nation and family at the hands of terrorists. The day the twin towers fell, a plane crashed in a Pennsylvania field, and one into the Pentagon. So many victims, such a senseless end to innocent life, an irreparable hole torn into so many families' and friends' relationships. An event that changed many of our outlooks on political interaction with other countries, and the footprint we left forever after that day. As I ran this last Wednesday morning, September 11th, I found myself looking back at the last twelve years of my life, what I went through and what I learned.
I woke up that morning twelve years ago for no particular reason and went directly to the television and turned it on--not my usual routine. I was currently attending Pittsburg State University taking Masters classes in English, and teaching two classes as a teaching assistant. I was also living with my boyfriend then, Justin Carriker, and working at Sirloin Stockade when I wasn't working at the University. I was pretty booked back then, and pretty stressed. And when I saw the Twin Towers smoldering, and then as the second plane hit, I was completely shocked. In my young years I could not comprehend such violence and hate, and loss of life. It was my first experience with terrorism. It changed how many people looked at our current political situation and where we stood as a country. I have to admit that I was one of the people screaming for blood, for revenge for the innocents slayed for some reason that I could not comprehend.
Years down the road I have grown some--mentally and chronologically. I dropped out of my last semester of Masters courses for a number of reasons...financial and I found out I was pregnant. Not what I had planned for myself, an unwed student whose boyfriend was off and on because he was always on the lookout for the greener grass on the side of as many fences that he came in contact with. Needless to say, I was stressed. And something wasn't right with the pregnancy. At 26 weeks I went into preclampsia which by the time I got to Joplin Freeman was full blown eclampsia. I had HELP syndrome, could barely breathe because the blood capsule around the liver had swollen up 3 times its size. One nurse at LCMC told myself to "get a hold of myself I was just hyperventilating". When they took a blood sample (I should say several because they couldn't believe the readings) they got me an ambulance to Joplin. I gave birth to a son, Michael Damian Traxson, and lost him three days later. I was lost for a few years after that. It's not something one can dismiss easily, or handle well. At least, it was not something I handled well.
During this time my father had a heart attack/stroke issues. His decline scared me, I wanted him to experience a grandchild. I got pregnant a year later and had a beautiful daughter, Snowden Chalea. He adored her, and she loved her Grandpa so much. She still tells me she misses her Grandpa (who passed away in 2008), and she is glad that when she gets to heaven she will be able to see him again as well as the brother she never got the chance to meet. Although my parents weren't thrilled I risked my health to have another child they were so happy with my baby...a little spoiling never hurts anyone. Before I lost my wonderful father I am glad that he got to see me realize my worth again and I got Justin out of my life permanently. (He went after that green grass on the other side of the fence, and I had decided such a blatant action screamed for an end to a bad relationship.) I met a wonderful man, Gary Davis, whom a friend had introduced to me. Not usually good with blind set-ups, I was a sceptic, but we just "clicked". I found the guy that I knew God wanted for me, and I have been blessed each day to have found my soul mate...he would probably not want such gushy stuff written about him, but that is who I am, so deal with it, baby.
All was good--I got on at Walmart full time, worked my way up to department manager of Hardware/Furniture/ and parts of Domestic. Gary and I got married and he adopted Snowden, making her his official daughter. My little brother Jonathan married his long time love, Debbie Cox, and my other little brother and his long time girlfriend, Jennifer Novak began planning a wedding for the next year. So much was happening that when I started to feel really sick after Halloween 2011, I thought it was a flu that I just couldn't shake. By the week before Thanksgiving I had to simply give in and see the doctor. He came back with "Your kidneys have failed." I sobbed on the way to the hospital. My father had spent three years on dialysis before he passed away and I saw what treatment did to him each time he went. I was friggin 36 for Pete's sake!!! This was not in my grand scheme of life. I had to leave my job, file for disability, and try to get better. There was not "get better" for me on dialysis. I just couldn't seem to get it straight--always too much fluid would get pulled off, I went through 3 catheters in my jugular within three months, and three surgeries to create a fistula in my left arm. I worked on getting on the transplant list at Via Christi in Wichita, but at the last day for my interview they closed the program down at Via Christi, and I was lost. So angry and frustrated, my awesome cousin convinced me to start training for my first half marathon. I had been running when I felt good on non dialysis days, so I gritted my teeth and trained. I was tired of putting my life on hold. At the Prairie Fire Marathon in Wichita in 2012 I made it in just under three hours and I was so proud of myself. I started to feel like an old tiger that still had her teeth, despite all of her scars. I trained for another half marathon and listed on the transplant list at St. Johns in Tulsa.
Life happens constantly. My husband blew out his knee with an AK 47 (it accidentally discharged--misfire) and I was thrown into balancing dialysis and caregiver. I was stretched thin, and postponed my spring half marathon to the fall Prairie Fire half marathon. After a couple of months and a stubborn man blessed with healing and determination I got the call from St. Johns that they had the perfect kidney for me. It wasn't exactly the best timing for me, but I couldn't say no to a better life--you just go with God's flow! I spent 3 1/2 days in the hospital and 5 days in a motel so I could do daily lab work. And let me tell you, I felt amazing after waking up in ICU after the surgery!!! I wanted to get out and start training for my fall half marathon as soon as my incision was healed, but the docs held the reins pretty tightly. The day I was released to run again I went home and ran two miles. Ran/walk, because my left side is still pretty weak, due to the doctors completely cutting through my abdominal muscles so that they could connect my new kidney. My husband had pushed himself taking full care of our girl, and I am glad that I was feeling better because he needed my help to rehabilitate his back as well as the knee cap-less leg.
And that's where I am at now...a lifetime later it seems. And if you read this whole blog you probably feel that you just lost a lifetime as well. (Ha, ha! But, seriously.) I have seen terrible things throughout the twelve years since 9/11, both in the outside world, as well as my own inner sanctum. And I think that we have all came out of these past twelve years stronger than we were before them. It's what we Americans have always done--taken terrible events and used them as a ladder to take ourselves to a higher plane. It is only when we let the horrible drag us under in despair and loss of self that we let the event take control of our life and we lose the vital part that makes us great. God has made us with every possibility of greatness, how can we fail with God at our side?
I woke up that morning twelve years ago for no particular reason and went directly to the television and turned it on--not my usual routine. I was currently attending Pittsburg State University taking Masters classes in English, and teaching two classes as a teaching assistant. I was also living with my boyfriend then, Justin Carriker, and working at Sirloin Stockade when I wasn't working at the University. I was pretty booked back then, and pretty stressed. And when I saw the Twin Towers smoldering, and then as the second plane hit, I was completely shocked. In my young years I could not comprehend such violence and hate, and loss of life. It was my first experience with terrorism. It changed how many people looked at our current political situation and where we stood as a country. I have to admit that I was one of the people screaming for blood, for revenge for the innocents slayed for some reason that I could not comprehend.
Years down the road I have grown some--mentally and chronologically. I dropped out of my last semester of Masters courses for a number of reasons...financial and I found out I was pregnant. Not what I had planned for myself, an unwed student whose boyfriend was off and on because he was always on the lookout for the greener grass on the side of as many fences that he came in contact with. Needless to say, I was stressed. And something wasn't right with the pregnancy. At 26 weeks I went into preclampsia which by the time I got to Joplin Freeman was full blown eclampsia. I had HELP syndrome, could barely breathe because the blood capsule around the liver had swollen up 3 times its size. One nurse at LCMC told myself to "get a hold of myself I was just hyperventilating". When they took a blood sample (I should say several because they couldn't believe the readings) they got me an ambulance to Joplin. I gave birth to a son, Michael Damian Traxson, and lost him three days later. I was lost for a few years after that. It's not something one can dismiss easily, or handle well. At least, it was not something I handled well.
During this time my father had a heart attack/stroke issues. His decline scared me, I wanted him to experience a grandchild. I got pregnant a year later and had a beautiful daughter, Snowden Chalea. He adored her, and she loved her Grandpa so much. She still tells me she misses her Grandpa (who passed away in 2008), and she is glad that when she gets to heaven she will be able to see him again as well as the brother she never got the chance to meet. Although my parents weren't thrilled I risked my health to have another child they were so happy with my baby...a little spoiling never hurts anyone. Before I lost my wonderful father I am glad that he got to see me realize my worth again and I got Justin out of my life permanently. (He went after that green grass on the other side of the fence, and I had decided such a blatant action screamed for an end to a bad relationship.) I met a wonderful man, Gary Davis, whom a friend had introduced to me. Not usually good with blind set-ups, I was a sceptic, but we just "clicked". I found the guy that I knew God wanted for me, and I have been blessed each day to have found my soul mate...he would probably not want such gushy stuff written about him, but that is who I am, so deal with it, baby.
All was good--I got on at Walmart full time, worked my way up to department manager of Hardware/Furniture/ and parts of Domestic. Gary and I got married and he adopted Snowden, making her his official daughter. My little brother Jonathan married his long time love, Debbie Cox, and my other little brother and his long time girlfriend, Jennifer Novak began planning a wedding for the next year. So much was happening that when I started to feel really sick after Halloween 2011, I thought it was a flu that I just couldn't shake. By the week before Thanksgiving I had to simply give in and see the doctor. He came back with "Your kidneys have failed." I sobbed on the way to the hospital. My father had spent three years on dialysis before he passed away and I saw what treatment did to him each time he went. I was friggin 36 for Pete's sake!!! This was not in my grand scheme of life. I had to leave my job, file for disability, and try to get better. There was not "get better" for me on dialysis. I just couldn't seem to get it straight--always too much fluid would get pulled off, I went through 3 catheters in my jugular within three months, and three surgeries to create a fistula in my left arm. I worked on getting on the transplant list at Via Christi in Wichita, but at the last day for my interview they closed the program down at Via Christi, and I was lost. So angry and frustrated, my awesome cousin convinced me to start training for my first half marathon. I had been running when I felt good on non dialysis days, so I gritted my teeth and trained. I was tired of putting my life on hold. At the Prairie Fire Marathon in Wichita in 2012 I made it in just under three hours and I was so proud of myself. I started to feel like an old tiger that still had her teeth, despite all of her scars. I trained for another half marathon and listed on the transplant list at St. Johns in Tulsa.
Life happens constantly. My husband blew out his knee with an AK 47 (it accidentally discharged--misfire) and I was thrown into balancing dialysis and caregiver. I was stretched thin, and postponed my spring half marathon to the fall Prairie Fire half marathon. After a couple of months and a stubborn man blessed with healing and determination I got the call from St. Johns that they had the perfect kidney for me. It wasn't exactly the best timing for me, but I couldn't say no to a better life--you just go with God's flow! I spent 3 1/2 days in the hospital and 5 days in a motel so I could do daily lab work. And let me tell you, I felt amazing after waking up in ICU after the surgery!!! I wanted to get out and start training for my fall half marathon as soon as my incision was healed, but the docs held the reins pretty tightly. The day I was released to run again I went home and ran two miles. Ran/walk, because my left side is still pretty weak, due to the doctors completely cutting through my abdominal muscles so that they could connect my new kidney. My husband had pushed himself taking full care of our girl, and I am glad that I was feeling better because he needed my help to rehabilitate his back as well as the knee cap-less leg.
And that's where I am at now...a lifetime later it seems. And if you read this whole blog you probably feel that you just lost a lifetime as well. (Ha, ha! But, seriously.) I have seen terrible things throughout the twelve years since 9/11, both in the outside world, as well as my own inner sanctum. And I think that we have all came out of these past twelve years stronger than we were before them. It's what we Americans have always done--taken terrible events and used them as a ladder to take ourselves to a higher plane. It is only when we let the horrible drag us under in despair and loss of self that we let the event take control of our life and we lose the vital part that makes us great. God has made us with every possibility of greatness, how can we fail with God at our side?
Saturday, August 3, 2013
A Letter That Needs to Be Written...
Dear Body,
I am writing to you today to apologize in a manner of speaking. I have been rather disrespectful and unappreciative of you in the past. All of my life you have stayed in the fight, and remained with me despite the choices I made. I could have passed away several times: overdosing on blood pressure pills when I was 1 1/2 years old, my first pregnancy when I went straight to eclampsia and HELP syndrome, and when I was too stubborn to go to the doctor when my kidneys shut down and I was TOXIC when I finally got medical attention. I probably deserved to die, because I didn't treat you better as I grew up. I was constantly trying to lose weight, to fit into clothes that were never realistic for my body type. I drank and I smoked, trying to fit in with people that didn't fit in with me. I didn't appreciate the miracle that you are, the gift from God that keeps fighting for survival in each situation that I encounter. But I do now.
You have stood by me and refused to quit. The first day that I did dialysis in Via Christi in Wichita was by far the worst that I ever felt. I had a tube rammed under the skin in my neck and shoved into my aorta, and the medicine made me vomit continuously all the way to the chair. The iron in the blood made me even more nauseous, and I was ice cold the entire time, shivering violently as the blood circulated through the machine. When I did get out of the chair and into the wheelchair I passed out cold. I wept when I reached my hospital room, it was the most horrible day that I could have experienced. It was also the first and the last time that I had seen tears in my husband's eyes. It was the only thing that could make me laugh, because that man never cries. But you didn't desert me, you didn't give up. Even when I had berated and abused you because you didn't fit into skinny jeans, or take responsibility for not taking charge of my health sooner, you fought on.
Together we became better through constant dialysis and surgical procedures. I learned what made you feel better through diet and treatments. And when the transplant institution at Via Christi closed down just days before my final interview to get placed on the transplant waiting list, you trained with me for my first half marathon at the Praire Fire that fall. WE did not give up, WE decided to alter our expectations and do more than survive. WE fought to enjoy life, and all the blessings and people that were in our lives. We didn't make the waiting list just then, but we made it later and shortly after we were blessed with a kidney. And boy, oh boy, did you and that kidney just fit together like PEAS AND CARROTS (as my favorite Forrest Gump would say.)
I want to promise you something, body of mine. I promise to appreciate everything you do for this team...pushing yourself to recover from the surgery, and striving for excellence as we work to rebuild what we had worked so hard to achieve before the surgery. No more will I try to fit into a certain body mold, or insult the shape you are today. So what if I don't fit into a certain size? So what if my left arm looks like a large caterpillar lives under the skin near a vivid scar that runs from my elbow to armpit? So what if I have two different cesarean scars on my abdomen now from different surgeries??? We are a BEAST! We are a survivor, and we will be proud and thankful for every breath that we use in each day. Thank you for sticking with me after all, I promise to make sure you don't regret it. :)
I am writing to you today to apologize in a manner of speaking. I have been rather disrespectful and unappreciative of you in the past. All of my life you have stayed in the fight, and remained with me despite the choices I made. I could have passed away several times: overdosing on blood pressure pills when I was 1 1/2 years old, my first pregnancy when I went straight to eclampsia and HELP syndrome, and when I was too stubborn to go to the doctor when my kidneys shut down and I was TOXIC when I finally got medical attention. I probably deserved to die, because I didn't treat you better as I grew up. I was constantly trying to lose weight, to fit into clothes that were never realistic for my body type. I drank and I smoked, trying to fit in with people that didn't fit in with me. I didn't appreciate the miracle that you are, the gift from God that keeps fighting for survival in each situation that I encounter. But I do now.
You have stood by me and refused to quit. The first day that I did dialysis in Via Christi in Wichita was by far the worst that I ever felt. I had a tube rammed under the skin in my neck and shoved into my aorta, and the medicine made me vomit continuously all the way to the chair. The iron in the blood made me even more nauseous, and I was ice cold the entire time, shivering violently as the blood circulated through the machine. When I did get out of the chair and into the wheelchair I passed out cold. I wept when I reached my hospital room, it was the most horrible day that I could have experienced. It was also the first and the last time that I had seen tears in my husband's eyes. It was the only thing that could make me laugh, because that man never cries. But you didn't desert me, you didn't give up. Even when I had berated and abused you because you didn't fit into skinny jeans, or take responsibility for not taking charge of my health sooner, you fought on.
Together we became better through constant dialysis and surgical procedures. I learned what made you feel better through diet and treatments. And when the transplant institution at Via Christi closed down just days before my final interview to get placed on the transplant waiting list, you trained with me for my first half marathon at the Praire Fire that fall. WE did not give up, WE decided to alter our expectations and do more than survive. WE fought to enjoy life, and all the blessings and people that were in our lives. We didn't make the waiting list just then, but we made it later and shortly after we were blessed with a kidney. And boy, oh boy, did you and that kidney just fit together like PEAS AND CARROTS (as my favorite Forrest Gump would say.)
I want to promise you something, body of mine. I promise to appreciate everything you do for this team...pushing yourself to recover from the surgery, and striving for excellence as we work to rebuild what we had worked so hard to achieve before the surgery. No more will I try to fit into a certain body mold, or insult the shape you are today. So what if I don't fit into a certain size? So what if my left arm looks like a large caterpillar lives under the skin near a vivid scar that runs from my elbow to armpit? So what if I have two different cesarean scars on my abdomen now from different surgeries??? We are a BEAST! We are a survivor, and we will be proud and thankful for every breath that we use in each day. Thank you for sticking with me after all, I promise to make sure you don't regret it. :)
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
My Happy One Month Anniversary
July 21st was my official one month anniversary of receiving a new, healthy kidney. I was incredibly blessed that the kidney worked so well and so quickly in me; I spent very little time in the hospital after the transplant. My labs have been wonderful, and I have kept up with all of my medications, even throwing back a handful by the end of the first month like a pro.
However, I have had some real emotional issues...it could be the high doses of Prednisone I'm on right now, or it could very well be that I have been restricted from my beloved running. The mere exercise of running kept my head up through the ordeal of dialysis, and kept me in a positive frame of mind. And I can't run yet...the left thigh/hip is extremely weak from the cut muscles on my left side. I just want to cry sometimes, and it's ridiculous, because I have been given so much. But running wasn't just exercise, something to do, it was my therapy, my mental relief for when everything became too much. When my anger grew to rage I could tie my running shoes on and grab my mp3 of favorite running songs and fly down the road until my anger cooled and I gained some perspective. Now that release is missing, and I'm not a very nice person at times.
So here it is...I am going to fight this furious rage with something positive. I will spend more time reading the Bible...it always tends to calm me. I will find some kind of deep core exercises to work my body into exhaustion so that when I can I will be able to run, I will run even better than ever. And if I ever get snappy with any of you, feel free to put me in my place. I need a wake-up call every now and then. Because I am truly blessed, I just need to find another way to achieve inner peace for now. And if any of you have any suggestions for me...feel free to share. To inner peace!
However, I have had some real emotional issues...it could be the high doses of Prednisone I'm on right now, or it could very well be that I have been restricted from my beloved running. The mere exercise of running kept my head up through the ordeal of dialysis, and kept me in a positive frame of mind. And I can't run yet...the left thigh/hip is extremely weak from the cut muscles on my left side. I just want to cry sometimes, and it's ridiculous, because I have been given so much. But running wasn't just exercise, something to do, it was my therapy, my mental relief for when everything became too much. When my anger grew to rage I could tie my running shoes on and grab my mp3 of favorite running songs and fly down the road until my anger cooled and I gained some perspective. Now that release is missing, and I'm not a very nice person at times.
So here it is...I am going to fight this furious rage with something positive. I will spend more time reading the Bible...it always tends to calm me. I will find some kind of deep core exercises to work my body into exhaustion so that when I can I will be able to run, I will run even better than ever. And if I ever get snappy with any of you, feel free to put me in my place. I need a wake-up call every now and then. Because I am truly blessed, I just need to find another way to achieve inner peace for now. And if any of you have any suggestions for me...feel free to share. To inner peace!
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
I Truly Feel Like I'm ALIVE!!!
For those who haven't heard, I am the blessed and lucky recipient of a kidney. A fully-functioning, healthy, perfectly matched kidney. As my team likes to say, I won the organ lottery when it comes to my kidney. And I thank God every day that he decided to bless me with another chance at living the fullest life possible. I know I didn't do a thing to deserve this opportunity, it is a rare gift, and I will do my best to honor such a gift.
I woke up like any other morning--up at 6 am to get my daughter ready for her last day of summer school for the week and getting ready to run after walking her down to the end of the driveway. I had just recently got my new fuel belt I had ordered from Amazon, and I couldn't wait to try it out on a medium distance run. The run was beautiful--the air was rich with the smells of clean grass, and freshly overturned field earth, and I drank it all in. When I do dialysis it would drain me, so when I recovered enough for a run the next day, I was grateful! I did most of the run without stopping (had a slight bathroom break) and got back in good time. I don't know why I checked my phone immediately, but I did, and saw that I had missed a call from Oklahoma. When I called the number back I assumed it would be the transplant office calling me to confirm my August appointment. You can only imagine my surprise when I was told that I had an "offer" of a kidney from Florida. I was in shock, and couldn't believe it at first. I had pretty much resigned myself to making a life for myself in the routine of dialysis and surviving. I was a baby--I started crying and laughing like a crazy woman. My mom and I ran around the house packing bags in a hurry, trying to remember every essential thing that we just might need, and also trying to hurry. I had showered, and my head was in the clouds. Gary stayed home to take care of our daughter, Snowden, and focused on holding down the fort while we went to the hospital.
At the transplant office I was informed I needed to get my blood tests and an EKG. We ran all over that hospital campus, and we didn't get to eat our lunch until about 2 pm. If I had known the doctor was going to be so strict, I would have been gulping buckets of water the entire time, but as it happened, I was an idiot, and suffered greatly after being admitted to the hospital and discovering I couldn't drink a drop of water, let alone suck on an ice chip. That did not go over well...and why do they think a SOUR NASTY lemon glycerin swab is going to help??!!! Let's just say, I think the nurses were looking forward to knocking me out at 10 am the next morning for surgery. The doctors and nurses at St. John's in Tulsa were amazing!!! I actually went in to the surgery on time, despite a last minute decree from the anesthesiologist that I needed to take a pregnancy test before surgery. I laughed all the way to the bathroom with my pee cup.
When I woke up, I was in the adult ICU. I INSTANTLY felt better--normal, somehow. I was talking a mile a minute to anyone who was in the room with me. My brothers and sisters-in-laws (sisters) came down to be with me after the surgery. EVEN my nieces came in and said how-do-you-do, which was a very nice surprise. I talked so much that I stressed my newly cut abdomen muscles (the old c-section bikini cut) and I need a pain shot. But it was worth every bit of pain. I couldn't believe how well I felt. The surgeons were surprised at how quickly the kidney "woke up" inside of me. The surgeon told me that it instantly "pinked up and started working right away" as soon as he had made all the necessary attachments. In fact, I was released from the hospital 3 days later, late Monday afternoon. But we still had to stay in Tulsa due to daily lab draws and meetings at the transplant clinic, so Mom and I got a room at the Inn at The Expo Center (next to Big Splash). That motel was great, I couldn't have asked for a better set-up. Mom and I couldn't wait to get home, though. We knew Gary was struggling with his back and knee problems and being Mr.Mom and Old McDonald at the same time. In fact, I know he was pushing his luck, and his knee. So--after a week of my impatience, and steadily healing body, the doctors released me to go home Friday after my labs were drawn, and that they were confident I wouldn't mess up the large amount of medications I had to ingest twice a day.
I have been cranky, and temperamental, mainly due to hormones and high amounts of prednisone, but I have always felt such a deep gratitude for the absolute awe-inspiring blessings that surround me and my family. I cannot believe how normal I feel now, I actually have body heat now!!! It has made me realize just how sick I was, even maintaining good labs and a good dialysis routine. I can't wait to run again...I did a light little jog to test how I felt, and I know it will be amazing when I heal enough to engage in that activity again. I plan on being able to get together with my sis, Chelle, and travelling to do runs together, now that I am not tied down to a dialysis chair. I have decided new kidney, new rules. I hadn't actually enjoyed a glass of wine for about a couple of months before the transplant (because of serious running and ab training) and I feel that to honor such a gift, I will just leave off any alcohol. I want to keep a good diet, which is a little more difficult, since all vegetables and fruit have to be cooked before I can ingest them. No fresh lettuce salad for me, but I will steam all kinds of fresh veggies! So many things have happened in such a short amount of time and I have definitely been overwhelmed at times. But with so much wonderful love and support from family and friends, I do not fear the future. My heart has expanded so much, I feel that it might burst from my chest at times. I thank God for being with me in every valley and mountain I have encountered, and for giving me such a supportive base of family and friends to walk the path with me. I thank everyone for being patient and supportive of me, even when I didn't deserve such unconditional love. THANK YOU!! Remember, we are all LIVING this life, no matter what we face, and we should be thankful for each breath that continues the blessings of our lives.
I woke up like any other morning--up at 6 am to get my daughter ready for her last day of summer school for the week and getting ready to run after walking her down to the end of the driveway. I had just recently got my new fuel belt I had ordered from Amazon, and I couldn't wait to try it out on a medium distance run. The run was beautiful--the air was rich with the smells of clean grass, and freshly overturned field earth, and I drank it all in. When I do dialysis it would drain me, so when I recovered enough for a run the next day, I was grateful! I did most of the run without stopping (had a slight bathroom break) and got back in good time. I don't know why I checked my phone immediately, but I did, and saw that I had missed a call from Oklahoma. When I called the number back I assumed it would be the transplant office calling me to confirm my August appointment. You can only imagine my surprise when I was told that I had an "offer" of a kidney from Florida. I was in shock, and couldn't believe it at first. I had pretty much resigned myself to making a life for myself in the routine of dialysis and surviving. I was a baby--I started crying and laughing like a crazy woman. My mom and I ran around the house packing bags in a hurry, trying to remember every essential thing that we just might need, and also trying to hurry. I had showered, and my head was in the clouds. Gary stayed home to take care of our daughter, Snowden, and focused on holding down the fort while we went to the hospital.
At the transplant office I was informed I needed to get my blood tests and an EKG. We ran all over that hospital campus, and we didn't get to eat our lunch until about 2 pm. If I had known the doctor was going to be so strict, I would have been gulping buckets of water the entire time, but as it happened, I was an idiot, and suffered greatly after being admitted to the hospital and discovering I couldn't drink a drop of water, let alone suck on an ice chip. That did not go over well...and why do they think a SOUR NASTY lemon glycerin swab is going to help??!!! Let's just say, I think the nurses were looking forward to knocking me out at 10 am the next morning for surgery. The doctors and nurses at St. John's in Tulsa were amazing!!! I actually went in to the surgery on time, despite a last minute decree from the anesthesiologist that I needed to take a pregnancy test before surgery. I laughed all the way to the bathroom with my pee cup.
When I woke up, I was in the adult ICU. I INSTANTLY felt better--normal, somehow. I was talking a mile a minute to anyone who was in the room with me. My brothers and sisters-in-laws (sisters) came down to be with me after the surgery. EVEN my nieces came in and said how-do-you-do, which was a very nice surprise. I talked so much that I stressed my newly cut abdomen muscles (the old c-section bikini cut) and I need a pain shot. But it was worth every bit of pain. I couldn't believe how well I felt. The surgeons were surprised at how quickly the kidney "woke up" inside of me. The surgeon told me that it instantly "pinked up and started working right away" as soon as he had made all the necessary attachments. In fact, I was released from the hospital 3 days later, late Monday afternoon. But we still had to stay in Tulsa due to daily lab draws and meetings at the transplant clinic, so Mom and I got a room at the Inn at The Expo Center (next to Big Splash). That motel was great, I couldn't have asked for a better set-up. Mom and I couldn't wait to get home, though. We knew Gary was struggling with his back and knee problems and being Mr.Mom and Old McDonald at the same time. In fact, I know he was pushing his luck, and his knee. So--after a week of my impatience, and steadily healing body, the doctors released me to go home Friday after my labs were drawn, and that they were confident I wouldn't mess up the large amount of medications I had to ingest twice a day.
I have been cranky, and temperamental, mainly due to hormones and high amounts of prednisone, but I have always felt such a deep gratitude for the absolute awe-inspiring blessings that surround me and my family. I cannot believe how normal I feel now, I actually have body heat now!!! It has made me realize just how sick I was, even maintaining good labs and a good dialysis routine. I can't wait to run again...I did a light little jog to test how I felt, and I know it will be amazing when I heal enough to engage in that activity again. I plan on being able to get together with my sis, Chelle, and travelling to do runs together, now that I am not tied down to a dialysis chair. I have decided new kidney, new rules. I hadn't actually enjoyed a glass of wine for about a couple of months before the transplant (because of serious running and ab training) and I feel that to honor such a gift, I will just leave off any alcohol. I want to keep a good diet, which is a little more difficult, since all vegetables and fruit have to be cooked before I can ingest them. No fresh lettuce salad for me, but I will steam all kinds of fresh veggies! So many things have happened in such a short amount of time and I have definitely been overwhelmed at times. But with so much wonderful love and support from family and friends, I do not fear the future. My heart has expanded so much, I feel that it might burst from my chest at times. I thank God for being with me in every valley and mountain I have encountered, and for giving me such a supportive base of family and friends to walk the path with me. I thank everyone for being patient and supportive of me, even when I didn't deserve such unconditional love. THANK YOU!! Remember, we are all LIVING this life, no matter what we face, and we should be thankful for each breath that continues the blessings of our lives.
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
The Book of Job Can Be Read in Every Life
Many times in life we encounter things that we do not understand. Experiences that try our mental and emotional well-being are the most dramatic in our lives. No one doubts God's plan when everything is wonderful--it is when we are slapped in the face with the dark reality of life that we may falter in our faith. When we lose a loved one, or see someone close to us struggling against insurmountable and painful odds we tend to cry out in despair to God. We demand to know God's plan, or his reasons why we suffer. Why do good people find themselves in bad situations, when so much evil is allowed to prosper in our world?
The book of Job describes intimately the depth of suffering that could befall on a good and up righteous servant of God for no apparent reason. Job is blameless, and good in God's eyes, but his friends do not understand the reason for God's neglect of Job. Why does Job suffer, if not because he is wicked and sinful? All they can do is console Job poorly by claiming that God only punishes the wicked and rewards the righteous. "Think now, who that was innocent ever perished? Or where were the upright cut off?" (Job 4:7) I can think of many times, Eliphaz. Recently our nation suffered through several occasions of heavy violence--the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary being one. What wicked thing could those innocent children be blamed with? The answer is that they were blameless, and yet they suffered, as well as their family. Most of the time we tend to blame sinful events on the "bad" people. However, we all sin--even with the example of Jesus to follow we tend to stray from the path of righteousness. We are not blameless or as dedicated as Job in his faith.
Yet, even though Job felt the walk he shared with God was good, and he had not erred in God's commandments, his friends argued against his claims of blamelessness. Sometimes our friends can also be an obstacle in our walk with God. When we find ourselves in a difficult situation that we do not understand, our friends might try reasoning the circumstances. "Have you been going to church enough? You must not be praying enough. If you REALLY believed in God's absolute power, he would heal you completely."
I heard that last one when my kidneys failed, and it bothered me. I know it was said by someone who was indeed faithful and most assuredly up right in the Lord, but it was still a sucker punch. At the age of 36 my kidneys had failed me, and everyone wanted to know why it had happened. What did I do to bring this trial on myself? I must have done something terribly wrong in order for me to go into renal failure. If I TRULY believed in the power of God I could be healed. I don't agree with such simplistic logic. God did heal me--He gave me something more valuable than a perfectly restored physical body. He healed my fractured soul, and took away the bitterness that had been taking refuge in my heart. Instead of looking at all that had been lost, I was given the gift of sight. True love found me and extended to include my family. I lost a son, but gained a beautiful, intelligent, and artistic miracle of a daughter. My father passed away, and our loss was great. But his gain was infinite--he was going to attain the wisdom that escapes us in our physical presence; the knowledge he sought his entire life. My father also left with me some valuable traits--the love of history, especially that of our family, and a stubborn spirit to challenge whatever comes my way. Sometimes being stubborn can be negative, but when applied in the positive it is precious.
Job was stubborn--even his "wise" friends could not convince him that he was wicked, and therefore aptly punished. "Of a truth, God will not do wickedly, and the Almighty will not pervert justice.(Job 34:12) It is not until God answers Job with a series of questions that humbles Job as well as satisfies him as to the depth of God's omniscience and power. "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding." (Job 38:4) In the face of all that God has done and the responsibility of all living things and the environment Job realizes that he has no right to question the plans of God.
Who am I then, to question the power and plan of God? The terrible tragedies that we see in our lives, as well as the everyday struggles that we face cannot be made sense of. How can anyone set the perimeters of God's intercession in all things? God is in everything--the good and hopeful in our lives as well as the terrible and heart-breaking. We must accept that God's plan for us is all-encompassing and interwoven with each other. The choices that we make in our faith are the center of our relationship with God. Choose to be bitter about the struggles in your life and you choose to step away from a loving relationship with God. If we cling to God through both good and bad times in our lives, we are given the realization of a true and deep love that holds us up through all of the difficult times.
God gave me such a gift when my kidneys failed my body. He has shown me that with his strength and love I can fight the good fight. I can thank him for the joys that bring me internal peace--the love of my family and friends, the fellowship of my family in faith, and the stress-relieving ability to push my physical body to become stronger every day I am given. Every breath I take each day is a blessing and a chance to gain a more personal relationship with my Savior each day. The knowledge of the depth of God's love is incomprehensible, but what part I can understand will carry me through all the days of my life.
The book of Job describes intimately the depth of suffering that could befall on a good and up righteous servant of God for no apparent reason. Job is blameless, and good in God's eyes, but his friends do not understand the reason for God's neglect of Job. Why does Job suffer, if not because he is wicked and sinful? All they can do is console Job poorly by claiming that God only punishes the wicked and rewards the righteous. "Think now, who that was innocent ever perished? Or where were the upright cut off?" (Job 4:7) I can think of many times, Eliphaz. Recently our nation suffered through several occasions of heavy violence--the shootings at Sandy Hook Elementary being one. What wicked thing could those innocent children be blamed with? The answer is that they were blameless, and yet they suffered, as well as their family. Most of the time we tend to blame sinful events on the "bad" people. However, we all sin--even with the example of Jesus to follow we tend to stray from the path of righteousness. We are not blameless or as dedicated as Job in his faith.
Yet, even though Job felt the walk he shared with God was good, and he had not erred in God's commandments, his friends argued against his claims of blamelessness. Sometimes our friends can also be an obstacle in our walk with God. When we find ourselves in a difficult situation that we do not understand, our friends might try reasoning the circumstances. "Have you been going to church enough? You must not be praying enough. If you REALLY believed in God's absolute power, he would heal you completely."
I heard that last one when my kidneys failed, and it bothered me. I know it was said by someone who was indeed faithful and most assuredly up right in the Lord, but it was still a sucker punch. At the age of 36 my kidneys had failed me, and everyone wanted to know why it had happened. What did I do to bring this trial on myself? I must have done something terribly wrong in order for me to go into renal failure. If I TRULY believed in the power of God I could be healed. I don't agree with such simplistic logic. God did heal me--He gave me something more valuable than a perfectly restored physical body. He healed my fractured soul, and took away the bitterness that had been taking refuge in my heart. Instead of looking at all that had been lost, I was given the gift of sight. True love found me and extended to include my family. I lost a son, but gained a beautiful, intelligent, and artistic miracle of a daughter. My father passed away, and our loss was great. But his gain was infinite--he was going to attain the wisdom that escapes us in our physical presence; the knowledge he sought his entire life. My father also left with me some valuable traits--the love of history, especially that of our family, and a stubborn spirit to challenge whatever comes my way. Sometimes being stubborn can be negative, but when applied in the positive it is precious.
Job was stubborn--even his "wise" friends could not convince him that he was wicked, and therefore aptly punished. "Of a truth, God will not do wickedly, and the Almighty will not pervert justice.(Job 34:12) It is not until God answers Job with a series of questions that humbles Job as well as satisfies him as to the depth of God's omniscience and power. "Where were you when I laid the foundation of the earth? Tell me, if you have understanding." (Job 38:4) In the face of all that God has done and the responsibility of all living things and the environment Job realizes that he has no right to question the plans of God.
Who am I then, to question the power and plan of God? The terrible tragedies that we see in our lives, as well as the everyday struggles that we face cannot be made sense of. How can anyone set the perimeters of God's intercession in all things? God is in everything--the good and hopeful in our lives as well as the terrible and heart-breaking. We must accept that God's plan for us is all-encompassing and interwoven with each other. The choices that we make in our faith are the center of our relationship with God. Choose to be bitter about the struggles in your life and you choose to step away from a loving relationship with God. If we cling to God through both good and bad times in our lives, we are given the realization of a true and deep love that holds us up through all of the difficult times.
God gave me such a gift when my kidneys failed my body. He has shown me that with his strength and love I can fight the good fight. I can thank him for the joys that bring me internal peace--the love of my family and friends, the fellowship of my family in faith, and the stress-relieving ability to push my physical body to become stronger every day I am given. Every breath I take each day is a blessing and a chance to gain a more personal relationship with my Savior each day. The knowledge of the depth of God's love is incomprehensible, but what part I can understand will carry me through all the days of my life.
I pray that according to the riches of his glory, he may grant that you may be
strengthened in your inner being with power through his Spirit, and that Christ
may dwell in your hearts through faith, as you are being rooted and grounded in love.
I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the
breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpassesknowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. (Ephesians 3:16-20)
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
Fumes of Freedom: Part Two
Dan shifted uncomfortably, holding his fingers to the eye Jenny had directed her hit towards. "It's your fault. I wouldn't have done it if you had fixed a decent supper." His voice took on a belligerent tone.
Jenny silently walked to the garage and gently laid little Lucky inside of her dad's old car. She drove off, ignoring Dan's angry shout. The veterinarian's office wasn't far away, yet she sped through the few stop signs that obstructed her momentum. Luckily for her, Airedale police hardly ever patrolled the back roads.
When she arrived, the vet was just about to leave. She hailed him quickly and showed him Lucky's knife wound, and the knife laying on the plastic car mat where she had placed it.
"It's a good thing you caught me when you did, Jen. I was just about to go home." He smiled kindly and gathered Lucky in his arms. "Let's take care of the little pup."
The waiting room was empty and the vet offered her a seat. He had known Jenny ever since she had gotten Lucky as a puppy, and he knew a little about her home life.
"This is going to take a while." He shook his head sadly. "Was it that louse, Dan?"
"Yes," Jenny replied woodenly. "He was drunk and he got mad about me not fixing him a decent supper."
"I'll get to Lucky now. After we patch him up, you and me will call the police."
Jenny nodded quietly and collapsed into a chair. All she could think about was the hatred she felt for Dan. Too long had she stood under his oppression. Finally she had the courage and the strength to do something about it. It was finally time. She walked to the bathroom and opened the window. After flushing the toilet, she squeezed out of it and ran to the car.
Once there she realized that the distance between the clinic and her house wasn't that far. She could quickly run that distance easily. The cold air bit her nose and tears ran down her face as the air stung her eyes. By keeping a steady pace and running through pastures, she arrived at her house in all of ten minutes.
When she entered the garage she noticed Dan's diesel truck was still there. She smiled as a plan began to form in her mind. The garage didn't have any windows and was completely void of junk because there was no room with three vehicles that were usually parked inside. A perfect chamber for her plan.
Jenny pulled on her brown leather gloves and crawled into her truck. Dan had been foolish enough to leave his keys in the ignition. She turned the key, bringing the engine to life. After she carefully slipped out, she locked both doors and slammed them shut. There was no way he was getting into the truck.
Dan weaved into the doorway that joined the garage to the house. "Wh-what the heck are you doing?" He mumbled in a disjointed effort to get his words out.
"I told you to leave when you had the chance. Now you're gonna be mighty sorry you didn't take my advice." Jenny smiled wickedly as she eyed Dan's inebriated condition. He was going to make it so easy for her. So very easy.
Dan stumbled down the steps, barely keeping himself upright. "What are you going to do, Stupid? You can't do anything to me!"
Jenny put both hands on his chest and shoved him as hard as she could. He flew backwards into the truck and slid to the floor. He smiled and muttered, "Yeah, you are stupid," before he passed out. She smiled and looked down at his unconscious form. "I'm not exactly the stupid girl you thought I was." She locked the adjoining door to the house from the inside of the garage as she left. Already poisonous carbon monoxide filled the garage in a choking cloud.
"Happy Birthday, Dan," she laughed with an evil grin stretched from ear to ear.
She took off back to the veterinarian clinic using her short cut and crawled back into the bathroom window. Blowing her nose, she rubbed her eyes until they were red and swollen.
Leaving the bathroom, she picked up a magazine and plopped down into a chair. The vet smiled as he entered the waiting room.
"Your little dog is going to be all right. He'll have to stay overnight for observation; nevertheless, he's doing great."
Jenny gave a relieved smile and hugged the magazine close to her, picturing her little friend safe and sound. "Thank you! I really appreciate you taking care of him even after closing time."
"Jenny, I've known you since you were five. Don't worry about it. If you want, you can wait until Lucky comes out of the anesthesia, and then we'll contact the police."
Jenny jumped up and hugged him, and ran into the small operating room. Lucky lay still, a bare shaved spot with ugly black stitches marking his wound. Her heart leaped in fear when he showed no sign of movement. But then a small stub tail began to wiggle, and Jenny kissed the small black nose. "Don't worry, honey. Everything is going to be fine." She gently massaged his fuzzy muzzle, and kissed him once again. "I have to go home now, sweetie. I'll be back tomorrow and then we'll both go home." Lucky whined his understanding and Jenny returned to the waiting room.
The veterinarian made the call to the police and Jenny went to the police station to file a report. When she finally left, she had established an iron-clad alibi and couldn't stop smiling. She couldn't wait to formally hear of Dan's passing.
The police escorted Jenny to her house in order to question and arrest Dan. Jenny waled into the house and led the police to the living room. She noticed the police looking at the piles of beer cans.
"Dan! Where are you?" She called out, keeping back the smile that wanted to appear. She knew where Dan was.
"Miss, maybe he left. What kind of vehicle does he drive?" One of the policemen inquired gently.
"It's a brown junky Ford diesel. But he was totally smashed and I don't know if he could handle driving." Jenny tried to look concerned.
"Well, let's take a look at the garage," suggested another police officer. "Maybe he's there."
Jenny nodded and led the way to the garage. When the officers tried to open the door they found it was locked. Confusion was etched on Jenny's face. "I don't understand. This door is never locked. We usually keep the outside garage door locked. Never this one."
The officer looked at each other and nodded their heads in a silent code of agreement. "Maybe it's best you stay here, Miss. We don't know what we'll find in there."
A look of fear crossed her features. "What do you mean? Do you think--?"
One officer gently guided her aside. "We're going to break down the door. You need to stand back."
Jenny stepped back as meekly as she could, looking horrified that the mere situation the officers were insinuating could happen.
"Poor girl," whispered one young officer. "I'm going to hate to break this to her if we find what I think we're going to find."
The door flung open as the officers kicked it in. Instantly the exhaust filled the entry way, causing the officers and Jenny to gasp for air. One of the officers ran into the garage and broke the truck window to turn the diesel off, while the other one opened the garage door with the wall remote. The older officer bent over Dan and shook his head wearily.
"He's gone."
Jenny screamed and ran into the living room where she sank to her knees and shook violently. The young officer draped a lap quilt over her shoulders and tried to comfort her. If only they realized, Jenny thought to herself. She couldn't stop shaking as excitement flowed through her body. The officer who comforted her was really handsome and she enjoyed the close proximity they shared.
"Apparent suicide. He was so drunk that he probably went through some alcohol-fuelled depression. It looks as if he locked the doors of the truck and garage so it would be hard for any one to stop him." They turned to Jenny. "We called your Mom at her workplace. When she gets home, tell her we need her to fill out some paper work."
"Yes, sir," she whispered, as if in shock.
After the policemen and coroner left, Jenny went into the kitchen and sat down. When her mother came in the door she calmly told her the news.
Her mother sat still for a while. "It's about time. What took you so long?"
Jenny frowned. "I didn't marry the loser. You were supposed to handle him. He tried to kill my dog. Actually, it was perfect timing...an appropriate birthday gift."
They grinned at each other and her mother smiled. "For once you did something right. What are you going to do now?"
Jenny grinned slyly. "I figure I have some overdue shopping to work on."
Agnes snickered quietly. "Yeah, now you can stop being a good little girl in jumpers and I can start spending the louse's inheritance."
"Who would have thought lazy old Dan could be worth so much money?" They both giggled and went into the living room to watch the late movie, singing "Happy Birthday" all the way.
THE END
(By the way, I think this was a creative writing assignment and I was trying to explore the vengeance concept. I do not approve of any kind of violence or murder. I'm really a sweetie with a devilish imagination.)
Jenny silently walked to the garage and gently laid little Lucky inside of her dad's old car. She drove off, ignoring Dan's angry shout. The veterinarian's office wasn't far away, yet she sped through the few stop signs that obstructed her momentum. Luckily for her, Airedale police hardly ever patrolled the back roads.
When she arrived, the vet was just about to leave. She hailed him quickly and showed him Lucky's knife wound, and the knife laying on the plastic car mat where she had placed it.
"It's a good thing you caught me when you did, Jen. I was just about to go home." He smiled kindly and gathered Lucky in his arms. "Let's take care of the little pup."
The waiting room was empty and the vet offered her a seat. He had known Jenny ever since she had gotten Lucky as a puppy, and he knew a little about her home life.
"This is going to take a while." He shook his head sadly. "Was it that louse, Dan?"
"Yes," Jenny replied woodenly. "He was drunk and he got mad about me not fixing him a decent supper."
"I'll get to Lucky now. After we patch him up, you and me will call the police."
Jenny nodded quietly and collapsed into a chair. All she could think about was the hatred she felt for Dan. Too long had she stood under his oppression. Finally she had the courage and the strength to do something about it. It was finally time. She walked to the bathroom and opened the window. After flushing the toilet, she squeezed out of it and ran to the car.
Once there she realized that the distance between the clinic and her house wasn't that far. She could quickly run that distance easily. The cold air bit her nose and tears ran down her face as the air stung her eyes. By keeping a steady pace and running through pastures, she arrived at her house in all of ten minutes.
When she entered the garage she noticed Dan's diesel truck was still there. She smiled as a plan began to form in her mind. The garage didn't have any windows and was completely void of junk because there was no room with three vehicles that were usually parked inside. A perfect chamber for her plan.
Jenny pulled on her brown leather gloves and crawled into her truck. Dan had been foolish enough to leave his keys in the ignition. She turned the key, bringing the engine to life. After she carefully slipped out, she locked both doors and slammed them shut. There was no way he was getting into the truck.
Dan weaved into the doorway that joined the garage to the house. "Wh-what the heck are you doing?" He mumbled in a disjointed effort to get his words out.
"I told you to leave when you had the chance. Now you're gonna be mighty sorry you didn't take my advice." Jenny smiled wickedly as she eyed Dan's inebriated condition. He was going to make it so easy for her. So very easy.
Dan stumbled down the steps, barely keeping himself upright. "What are you going to do, Stupid? You can't do anything to me!"
Jenny put both hands on his chest and shoved him as hard as she could. He flew backwards into the truck and slid to the floor. He smiled and muttered, "Yeah, you are stupid," before he passed out. She smiled and looked down at his unconscious form. "I'm not exactly the stupid girl you thought I was." She locked the adjoining door to the house from the inside of the garage as she left. Already poisonous carbon monoxide filled the garage in a choking cloud.
"Happy Birthday, Dan," she laughed with an evil grin stretched from ear to ear.
She took off back to the veterinarian clinic using her short cut and crawled back into the bathroom window. Blowing her nose, she rubbed her eyes until they were red and swollen.
Leaving the bathroom, she picked up a magazine and plopped down into a chair. The vet smiled as he entered the waiting room.
"Your little dog is going to be all right. He'll have to stay overnight for observation; nevertheless, he's doing great."
Jenny gave a relieved smile and hugged the magazine close to her, picturing her little friend safe and sound. "Thank you! I really appreciate you taking care of him even after closing time."
"Jenny, I've known you since you were five. Don't worry about it. If you want, you can wait until Lucky comes out of the anesthesia, and then we'll contact the police."
Jenny jumped up and hugged him, and ran into the small operating room. Lucky lay still, a bare shaved spot with ugly black stitches marking his wound. Her heart leaped in fear when he showed no sign of movement. But then a small stub tail began to wiggle, and Jenny kissed the small black nose. "Don't worry, honey. Everything is going to be fine." She gently massaged his fuzzy muzzle, and kissed him once again. "I have to go home now, sweetie. I'll be back tomorrow and then we'll both go home." Lucky whined his understanding and Jenny returned to the waiting room.
The veterinarian made the call to the police and Jenny went to the police station to file a report. When she finally left, she had established an iron-clad alibi and couldn't stop smiling. She couldn't wait to formally hear of Dan's passing.
The police escorted Jenny to her house in order to question and arrest Dan. Jenny waled into the house and led the police to the living room. She noticed the police looking at the piles of beer cans.
"Dan! Where are you?" She called out, keeping back the smile that wanted to appear. She knew where Dan was.
"Miss, maybe he left. What kind of vehicle does he drive?" One of the policemen inquired gently.
"It's a brown junky Ford diesel. But he was totally smashed and I don't know if he could handle driving." Jenny tried to look concerned.
"Well, let's take a look at the garage," suggested another police officer. "Maybe he's there."
Jenny nodded and led the way to the garage. When the officers tried to open the door they found it was locked. Confusion was etched on Jenny's face. "I don't understand. This door is never locked. We usually keep the outside garage door locked. Never this one."
The officer looked at each other and nodded their heads in a silent code of agreement. "Maybe it's best you stay here, Miss. We don't know what we'll find in there."
A look of fear crossed her features. "What do you mean? Do you think--?"
One officer gently guided her aside. "We're going to break down the door. You need to stand back."
Jenny stepped back as meekly as she could, looking horrified that the mere situation the officers were insinuating could happen.
"Poor girl," whispered one young officer. "I'm going to hate to break this to her if we find what I think we're going to find."
The door flung open as the officers kicked it in. Instantly the exhaust filled the entry way, causing the officers and Jenny to gasp for air. One of the officers ran into the garage and broke the truck window to turn the diesel off, while the other one opened the garage door with the wall remote. The older officer bent over Dan and shook his head wearily.
"He's gone."
Jenny screamed and ran into the living room where she sank to her knees and shook violently. The young officer draped a lap quilt over her shoulders and tried to comfort her. If only they realized, Jenny thought to herself. She couldn't stop shaking as excitement flowed through her body. The officer who comforted her was really handsome and she enjoyed the close proximity they shared.
"Apparent suicide. He was so drunk that he probably went through some alcohol-fuelled depression. It looks as if he locked the doors of the truck and garage so it would be hard for any one to stop him." They turned to Jenny. "We called your Mom at her workplace. When she gets home, tell her we need her to fill out some paper work."
"Yes, sir," she whispered, as if in shock.
After the policemen and coroner left, Jenny went into the kitchen and sat down. When her mother came in the door she calmly told her the news.
Her mother sat still for a while. "It's about time. What took you so long?"
Jenny frowned. "I didn't marry the loser. You were supposed to handle him. He tried to kill my dog. Actually, it was perfect timing...an appropriate birthday gift."
They grinned at each other and her mother smiled. "For once you did something right. What are you going to do now?"
Jenny grinned slyly. "I figure I have some overdue shopping to work on."
Agnes snickered quietly. "Yeah, now you can stop being a good little girl in jumpers and I can start spending the louse's inheritance."
"Who would have thought lazy old Dan could be worth so much money?" They both giggled and went into the living room to watch the late movie, singing "Happy Birthday" all the way.
THE END
(By the way, I think this was a creative writing assignment and I was trying to explore the vengeance concept. I do not approve of any kind of violence or murder. I'm really a sweetie with a devilish imagination.)
Fumes of Freedom: Part One
Life isn't fair. At least that's what Jenny's mother always told her. How far in the world you go depends on looks. Another jewel of her mother's wisdom. And Jenny was not beautiful, according to her stepfather. Jenny would have to depend on intelligence to take her places, if only those places were the local McDonalds.
Jenny Sue Prest had a thick mane of red gold hair and large brown eyes. Her face was a heart-shaped oval, reminiscent of an old-fashioned valentine. A generous mouth that occasionally gave in to a shy smile hid straight, shiny teeth. Her snub nose gave her the look of a tomboy, giving a hint of the boyish fun she enjoyed. She usually wore her long hair back in a pony tail, because that was simple and McDonalds' regulation for all of their employees. Jenny hated the greasy smell that never seemed to leave her hair and clothes. Nauseating customers with grimy hands and unkempt hair would leer at her and make disgusting comments. Jenny shrugged her feelings of misery off. She knew better days were coming--very soon.
Fuzzy, black and white memories haunted Jenny. Memories of a time when she had been ecstatically happy. The time when her father had been alive.
He had been nearly seven feet tall or so it seemed, with a booming laugh that was contagious. At bedtime, he was the perfect narrator for "The Three Little Bears." He had a growly voice that made her want to check under the bed to make sure those big, mean bears weren't lurking there. Puppy dogs and little girls were among his favorite things and Jenny felt most loved when he was nearby. She received her last gift from him on her fifth birthday. That gift became her comfort and confidante when her father died. The small Welsh Corgi was a lively, happy dog and knew exactly what to do to cheer Jenny up. Wherever Jenny went, little Lucky was sure to follow and protect her from all of the world's beastly dangers. Jenny thanked God every day for Lucky. He was her light in this dark tunnel she called life.
Not long after her father died, her mother remarried. The man she married was a bitter man who enjoyed picking fights with Jenny. He was lazy, and regularly lost jobs that took months to obtain. Jenny and her mother were the only ones who had a steady income in their family, and could honestly claim him as a dependent. He loved the fact that the women provided for his lifestyle. Dan O'Kelley was his name and he did not inherit the hard-working nature of the ancestors who had left him a large monetary inheritance. He felt he should not have to work since he would be a millionaire at the age of 40. At the age of 39 he was growing more and more cocky...as if he had something to act cocky about. His hair was a matted and dingy brown with a matching limp mustache. Ignorance could be glimpsed in his dirt-colored eyes and was reinforced by the fact that he was nearly illiterate. His lanky build gave the impression of a natural athlete; even though he was incredibly out of shape. And his favorite hobby was telling Jenny how ignorant she was and that she didn't have a future.
Jenny listened to all of it. Her mother never defended her. No, Agnes felt that she should not go against the tide. Dan was the one person she did not want to anger and so she left Jenny to fend for herself. Agnes also chose Jenny's entire wardrobe. Stuffy blouses with long sleeves and frills along with little girl jumpers filled her closet. Jenny longed to wear jeans like the other teenage girls at school, but her mother flatly refused. No wonder Jenny was a shy introvert at school. She never felt good about herself and worked hard at getting good grades. In her mind the only way to achieve respect, love, and acceptance was to earn straight A's.
She even sought a part-time job and was hired at a local McDonalds. The pay was lousy, the customers were rude, and the managers were bossy and obnoxious. But Jenny was happy about one thing--she had to wear slacks at the job and her mother allowed her to on the condition that Jenny would wear pants only to work.
Jenny longed for something; something unattainable and out of reach. She longed for recognition of herself as a person.
Lucky knew one secret about Jenny that no one else knew. Because she was allowed her own small income, she could afford to take lessons secretly--in kickboxing. She enjoyed venting her frustrations on the defenseless bag. It kept her in good shape and made her a formidable opponent if angered. If she felt stress, all she had to do was picture Dan's face on the bags and she was unstoppable.
* * * * *
"What did you today, Retard?" Dan sneered at her, crumpling his empty beer can with one hand. "Probably spent the whole day trying to figure out the answer to 2 + 2!" He burst out in ignorant laughter.
No, Dan, you've mistaken me for yourself again, Jenny thought. She didn't dare let the treacherous words escape her mouth. She didn't want to push her luck.
She hurried into her room and changed her clothes. Lucky wiggled and jumped with the pleasure of being with his master. She switched on her radio and pulled out her checkbook. Another well-kept secret. Her hard-earned money was put into a checking account and was scarcely used. Three years of suffering at McDonalds had brought her close to $23,000. Jenny sighed longingly. She would love to be able to spend a little of it on herself. Putting her checkbook back into her worn purse, she laughed as Lucky brought a small rubber ball to play fetch with. His little stub tail twitched with delight as she picked the ball up and grabbed her jacket. She opened her low window and squirmed out. Lucky eagerly joined her outside in a small bound. Jenny didn't want to have to go past Dan in his ragged armchair with a pile of empty beer cans forming a gigantic mound. In a drunken stupor Dan felt even more feisty than usual and didn't hesitate to swing at anyone who passed by.
The sun was setting and a cool breeze nipped her nose and cheeks, making them red as ripe cherries. Lucky twisted and leaped as she threw the ball about in their large yard. Jenny loved their home. The yard was spacious with flower beds for borders. They lived outside of Airedale, Kansas, in the country. Airedale was a moderately-sized town and had the usual entertainment centers. It had a movie theater that looked grimy and in need of repair in the full lighting. The movies would skip and black out in an irritating fashion but in the end the theater employees would manage to patch the equipment up enough to make it through yet another movie. At night the town looked even larger from her house because the thousands of lights twinkled about, giving the impression of a large city.
The wind blew a large pile of stiff brown leaves to her feet, bringing Jenny out of her reverie. She kicked the small pile and enjoyed the crackling sound as she destroyed the leaves. Lucky ran about, sniffing tree trunks and leaving various territorial claims. Jenny couldn't blame him. Wild animals such as skunks and possums were always venturing onto their yard.
"Come on, Lucky, we better go in before Dan finds out we've been having some fun." Jenny walked slowly to her window and crawled through with a heavy heart. Lucky leaped in, and promptly curled up on her bed. His short yip told her that he didn't mind coming back if it meant the comfort of her bed.
"Jenny! Get in here and start fixing supper!" Dan's voice rang out in loud, slurred tones.
Jenny shuffled into the kitchen and felt a sudden wave of resentment. Why should he get to sit around all day and make every one else work? Her mother wouldn't get home from work until 2 am and Jenny was the only one who could fix supper.
Tonight Jenny was tired, and when she felt sick and tired she felt rebellious. She pulled out lunch meat, mayonnaise, and a loaf of bread out of the refrigerator and set them on the kitchen counter. She grabbed herself a plate and fixed herself a sandwich and a glass of milk. Walking into the living room, she turned to Dan.
"I'm tired. If you want supper, go into the kitchen and fix yourself a sandwich. There are Cheetos in the cabinet, and if you don't like that idea, order take-out." With that she turned to go into her room, locking the door behind her. When Dan began to bellow, she merely turned up her radio. Lucky settled down to sharing Jenny's sandwich.
After she finished, she traipsed into the kitchen to put up her dishes. Lucky followed her, scavenging for scraps of food. As she cleaned the kitchen she realized Dan was standing in the door way. Gripped tightly in his hand was as razor-sharp butcher knife, its silver edge gleaming.
"No one disobeys me and gets away with it." He flung the knife into Lucky's side and with a yelp, Lucky fell to the floor.
Instantly Jenny delivered a blow to Dan's face. While he was reeling from her hit, Jenny scooped Lucky into her arms and walked to the door. Turning, she looked back at Dan.
"If you're smart, you won't be here when I get back." Her voice was hollow and icy, and her gaze was as polar as the glaciers of Antarctica.
Jenny Sue Prest had a thick mane of red gold hair and large brown eyes. Her face was a heart-shaped oval, reminiscent of an old-fashioned valentine. A generous mouth that occasionally gave in to a shy smile hid straight, shiny teeth. Her snub nose gave her the look of a tomboy, giving a hint of the boyish fun she enjoyed. She usually wore her long hair back in a pony tail, because that was simple and McDonalds' regulation for all of their employees. Jenny hated the greasy smell that never seemed to leave her hair and clothes. Nauseating customers with grimy hands and unkempt hair would leer at her and make disgusting comments. Jenny shrugged her feelings of misery off. She knew better days were coming--very soon.
Fuzzy, black and white memories haunted Jenny. Memories of a time when she had been ecstatically happy. The time when her father had been alive.
He had been nearly seven feet tall or so it seemed, with a booming laugh that was contagious. At bedtime, he was the perfect narrator for "The Three Little Bears." He had a growly voice that made her want to check under the bed to make sure those big, mean bears weren't lurking there. Puppy dogs and little girls were among his favorite things and Jenny felt most loved when he was nearby. She received her last gift from him on her fifth birthday. That gift became her comfort and confidante when her father died. The small Welsh Corgi was a lively, happy dog and knew exactly what to do to cheer Jenny up. Wherever Jenny went, little Lucky was sure to follow and protect her from all of the world's beastly dangers. Jenny thanked God every day for Lucky. He was her light in this dark tunnel she called life.
Not long after her father died, her mother remarried. The man she married was a bitter man who enjoyed picking fights with Jenny. He was lazy, and regularly lost jobs that took months to obtain. Jenny and her mother were the only ones who had a steady income in their family, and could honestly claim him as a dependent. He loved the fact that the women provided for his lifestyle. Dan O'Kelley was his name and he did not inherit the hard-working nature of the ancestors who had left him a large monetary inheritance. He felt he should not have to work since he would be a millionaire at the age of 40. At the age of 39 he was growing more and more cocky...as if he had something to act cocky about. His hair was a matted and dingy brown with a matching limp mustache. Ignorance could be glimpsed in his dirt-colored eyes and was reinforced by the fact that he was nearly illiterate. His lanky build gave the impression of a natural athlete; even though he was incredibly out of shape. And his favorite hobby was telling Jenny how ignorant she was and that she didn't have a future.
Jenny listened to all of it. Her mother never defended her. No, Agnes felt that she should not go against the tide. Dan was the one person she did not want to anger and so she left Jenny to fend for herself. Agnes also chose Jenny's entire wardrobe. Stuffy blouses with long sleeves and frills along with little girl jumpers filled her closet. Jenny longed to wear jeans like the other teenage girls at school, but her mother flatly refused. No wonder Jenny was a shy introvert at school. She never felt good about herself and worked hard at getting good grades. In her mind the only way to achieve respect, love, and acceptance was to earn straight A's.
She even sought a part-time job and was hired at a local McDonalds. The pay was lousy, the customers were rude, and the managers were bossy and obnoxious. But Jenny was happy about one thing--she had to wear slacks at the job and her mother allowed her to on the condition that Jenny would wear pants only to work.
Jenny longed for something; something unattainable and out of reach. She longed for recognition of herself as a person.
Lucky knew one secret about Jenny that no one else knew. Because she was allowed her own small income, she could afford to take lessons secretly--in kickboxing. She enjoyed venting her frustrations on the defenseless bag. It kept her in good shape and made her a formidable opponent if angered. If she felt stress, all she had to do was picture Dan's face on the bags and she was unstoppable.
* * * * *
"What did you today, Retard?" Dan sneered at her, crumpling his empty beer can with one hand. "Probably spent the whole day trying to figure out the answer to 2 + 2!" He burst out in ignorant laughter.
No, Dan, you've mistaken me for yourself again, Jenny thought. She didn't dare let the treacherous words escape her mouth. She didn't want to push her luck.
She hurried into her room and changed her clothes. Lucky wiggled and jumped with the pleasure of being with his master. She switched on her radio and pulled out her checkbook. Another well-kept secret. Her hard-earned money was put into a checking account and was scarcely used. Three years of suffering at McDonalds had brought her close to $23,000. Jenny sighed longingly. She would love to be able to spend a little of it on herself. Putting her checkbook back into her worn purse, she laughed as Lucky brought a small rubber ball to play fetch with. His little stub tail twitched with delight as she picked the ball up and grabbed her jacket. She opened her low window and squirmed out. Lucky eagerly joined her outside in a small bound. Jenny didn't want to have to go past Dan in his ragged armchair with a pile of empty beer cans forming a gigantic mound. In a drunken stupor Dan felt even more feisty than usual and didn't hesitate to swing at anyone who passed by.
The sun was setting and a cool breeze nipped her nose and cheeks, making them red as ripe cherries. Lucky twisted and leaped as she threw the ball about in their large yard. Jenny loved their home. The yard was spacious with flower beds for borders. They lived outside of Airedale, Kansas, in the country. Airedale was a moderately-sized town and had the usual entertainment centers. It had a movie theater that looked grimy and in need of repair in the full lighting. The movies would skip and black out in an irritating fashion but in the end the theater employees would manage to patch the equipment up enough to make it through yet another movie. At night the town looked even larger from her house because the thousands of lights twinkled about, giving the impression of a large city.
The wind blew a large pile of stiff brown leaves to her feet, bringing Jenny out of her reverie. She kicked the small pile and enjoyed the crackling sound as she destroyed the leaves. Lucky ran about, sniffing tree trunks and leaving various territorial claims. Jenny couldn't blame him. Wild animals such as skunks and possums were always venturing onto their yard.
"Come on, Lucky, we better go in before Dan finds out we've been having some fun." Jenny walked slowly to her window and crawled through with a heavy heart. Lucky leaped in, and promptly curled up on her bed. His short yip told her that he didn't mind coming back if it meant the comfort of her bed.
"Jenny! Get in here and start fixing supper!" Dan's voice rang out in loud, slurred tones.
Jenny shuffled into the kitchen and felt a sudden wave of resentment. Why should he get to sit around all day and make every one else work? Her mother wouldn't get home from work until 2 am and Jenny was the only one who could fix supper.
Tonight Jenny was tired, and when she felt sick and tired she felt rebellious. She pulled out lunch meat, mayonnaise, and a loaf of bread out of the refrigerator and set them on the kitchen counter. She grabbed herself a plate and fixed herself a sandwich and a glass of milk. Walking into the living room, she turned to Dan.
"I'm tired. If you want supper, go into the kitchen and fix yourself a sandwich. There are Cheetos in the cabinet, and if you don't like that idea, order take-out." With that she turned to go into her room, locking the door behind her. When Dan began to bellow, she merely turned up her radio. Lucky settled down to sharing Jenny's sandwich.
After she finished, she traipsed into the kitchen to put up her dishes. Lucky followed her, scavenging for scraps of food. As she cleaned the kitchen she realized Dan was standing in the door way. Gripped tightly in his hand was as razor-sharp butcher knife, its silver edge gleaming.
"No one disobeys me and gets away with it." He flung the knife into Lucky's side and with a yelp, Lucky fell to the floor.
Instantly Jenny delivered a blow to Dan's face. While he was reeling from her hit, Jenny scooped Lucky into her arms and walked to the door. Turning, she looked back at Dan.
"If you're smart, you won't be here when I get back." Her voice was hollow and icy, and her gaze was as polar as the glaciers of Antarctica.
Thursday, May 9, 2013
Healthy Eating=Stressful Living!!!
Don't get me wrong folks, I'm big on eating in a healthy manner. In fact, in order to help Mom with her goal of losing weight, I joined her in the weight loss battle and geared the whole household into the South Beach Diet/Food plan. My daughter, who already loves her vegetables, has pretty much gone with the flow with very few complaints. My mother and I are ecstatic about not feeling any desire whatsoever to snack anymore, and have cut back on our portions dramatically. My mother and I have both lost a good deal of weight--my mom has lost twice what I have lost--and we are thrilled about living a more healthy food style since my family has heart disease, diabetes, and high blood pressure just waiting in the wings.
So what is the issue, you ask? The one person I didn't mention as being ecstatic would be my husband. He first laughed at what seemed to be yet another one of my "crazy diet schemes." Then, as the junk food and highly concentrated sugar products disappeared from the house, never reappearing, he began to worry. I have to admit, our poor diet was definitely to be blamed on me. I love to cook, and it's something that makes me happy. I love to bake sweet treats, homemade breads (especially homemade rolls that melt in your mouth), and just about anything that tops the carbohydrate charts. I used to make a mean cheesecake, the kind that takes a day and a half to complete, rich and creamy and so very sinful to ingest.
It was with one of those cheesecakes that I lured my husband in. He had very sweetly bought me roses and brought them to my workplace for me. (Ahhh, so romantic! Those were the days.) I countered with a turtle cheesecake--even though I used half the sugar and fat free cream cheese, and sugar free cookies for the crust, I knew it was not healthy. But hey, isn't the way to a man's heart through his stomach??? What soon followed as we got to know each other better were homemade meals that he looked forward to, especially our homemade biscuits and sausage gravy. And I have now made it all go away--or at least most of it.
I have decided to take my love of cooking and valiantly attempt to make the healthy components of our diet into tasty treats that my family would enjoy sharing in. Tonight I made a Chicken Barbecue Pizza. I incorporated some wheat flour into the crust, and it was still light and fluffy and went well with the barbecued chicken. What did my husband do? He ate the topping off the crust. Just scraped my topping off and refused to eat any more than a small tidbit of crust. And he was FURIOUS that I messed with the pizza crust. Okay, maybe not furious about the crust, but more like furious about the whole food direction I have taken this family. He even went as far as to tell me that my food tasted like $%!@!
And that, my friends, is where the proverbial $%!@ hit the fan. I understand taking away sweet and salty foods can be irritating, if somewhat disheartening, but insulting the food that I put together in between taking care of my husband's requests was the last straw. I shouldn't have, but I blasted him with both barrels of indignation and hurt. I could see that he hadn't expected his comment to enrage me as well as it did, but I couldn't pull back. I had run 4 miles this morning, did some killer ab exercises in order to dissipate the overwhelming stress that was beginning to build, and with that one little snide comment I was back under the waves of stress.
I did walk away, took some calming breaths, and took the time to watch Julia Roberts blast away her crazy abusive husband in "Sleeping With the Enemy." I have to admit, my husband wasn't happy that watching the end of the movie calmed me down. For obvious reasons. But I realized something about our relationship--we are going to have a few spats, and we do not always agree about everything (especially food and what is healthy), but we can come together and laugh it off. I am hopeful that healthy eating doesn't have to equal heavy stress levels. After laughing and getting back to a more proper frame of mind we really discussed his issues with some of the components of the diet and we compromised. I sometimes have to step back and look at my place in the situation--am I trying to control too much? Shouldn't everyone have a say?
I watched my dad fight my mom about food and portion sizes when he was diagnosed with diabetes. My mom gave up, because my dad wasn't willing to compromise on the required diet. Then with congestive heart failure there is another diet, and yet another diet with kidney disease/dialysis, the cardiac and renal diets in direct conflict. My father had the roughest time of eating appropriately for his ailments, and I guess it never came to "I don't want to do this diet!" when I myself was placed on dialysis because of renal failure. I always wondered if Dad might have been healthier if he had followed the diet that he should have and it makes me incredibly pushy in the food arena. So here's the dilemma--to eat healthy or not to push it on the ones I love? How do I balance healthy living with everyone that doesn't lead to STRESS? If anyone has an idea, I am definitely game. Food should be a way of fueling our bodies, not fueling battles!
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Trials and Tribulations and Just Day by Day
Lately I have been frustrated...the everyday stuff that just blasts through our awareness accompanied with a helpless anger and frustration. About a month ago our water pipe just blew out--the age of it just couldn't contain it any longer, and it happened to blow on the day that I had gone to treatment (dialysis) and was coming home to help Mom make cornbread for for a water meeting our United Methodist Women was serving. I was FURIOUS, and had a breakdown of sorts, was pretty much worthless. Later, after I calmed down, I realized that it was a blessing that the pipe hadn't broke down in the middle of the freezing winter, it happened on some beautiful weather, and Gary's brother fixed it for us. But that's generally what happens--the car breaks down, a mower burns up, bills come in the mail that are sickening and yet we see the good in each day. Practicing with our daughter for softball, sharing in the beauty of the outdoors, and laughing together at the humorous side of life. I continue to look to the positive.
Take for example what happened the last of April in my family...my husband and I had practiced throwing the softball around with our daughter, and as it was on the day of my treatment I tired easily. I was upstairs scrolling through Facebook when Gary came upstairs looking for a gun. Snowden had been hunting for kittens in a ramshackle shed full of boxes of jars for canning and other junk when she found a skunk. Luckily she wasn't sprayed, but we were concerned just the same. And my husband being the man that he is, settled on the AK74 since he hadn't shot it in a while. I continued to play on my computer and when I heard one single shot; I was impressed that the skunk had been defeated without a hail of bullets. Moments later my daughter came running up the stairs sobbing that "Daddy shot himself!" After my disbelief wore off, my heart thudded in fear as I raced down the stairs looking for shoes, my throat dry and my eyes unable to focus. When I made it out to Gary he was lying on his side, with blood all over his legs and feet. Thankfully it wasn't a lot of blood, and he hadn't hit a major artery. But the bone was poking out of his knee, and I knew in a heart-sinking instant that this indeed was bad. Running to get a towel to wrap around his knee I was lost, and I had no idea what to do for him. I was in shock, but I couldn't help but thank God that it was his leg, that he was still breathing and much calmer than anyone else. The safety had been on until he reached the shed, and it wasn't until he leaned forward to look for the skunk when the gun went off without warning. The shoulder strap most likely brushed the trigger somehow, since his finger wasn't near the trigger, and he was as surprised as Mom and Snowden were. I thank God that Gary was so calm and steady, because it helped me to talk to the 911 dispatcher in a calm and steady manner.
Three surgeries later, and two treatments at the dialysis center in Parsons while I stay with Gary has made me realize how truly blessed I am. I still have my husband, whom I love more than the air I breathe, and my daughter and mother is safe as well. Our family, church, and friend family have kept us supported in prayers and I truly feel the benefit of so many beautiful souls praying for us. We are all faced with difficulties, some irritating and frustrating, but when faced with major difficulties we can see the gifts in life that we are given. Gary has an amazing surgeon who managed to pin everything perfectly and save the knee joint, even if the knee cap was obliterated. And with effort and healing, Gary will be able to put weight on his leg and walk on it. I have faced so many fears this week, and have wanted to cry at times when Gary has faced so much pain and difficulty, but I have felt the support of so many friends, family, and professionals that I can only be optimistic of the future with Gary. God is with us, God will continue to be with us, and as long as we look to Him for answers, we will always feel His encouragement and strength.
Take for example what happened the last of April in my family...my husband and I had practiced throwing the softball around with our daughter, and as it was on the day of my treatment I tired easily. I was upstairs scrolling through Facebook when Gary came upstairs looking for a gun. Snowden had been hunting for kittens in a ramshackle shed full of boxes of jars for canning and other junk when she found a skunk. Luckily she wasn't sprayed, but we were concerned just the same. And my husband being the man that he is, settled on the AK74 since he hadn't shot it in a while. I continued to play on my computer and when I heard one single shot; I was impressed that the skunk had been defeated without a hail of bullets. Moments later my daughter came running up the stairs sobbing that "Daddy shot himself!" After my disbelief wore off, my heart thudded in fear as I raced down the stairs looking for shoes, my throat dry and my eyes unable to focus. When I made it out to Gary he was lying on his side, with blood all over his legs and feet. Thankfully it wasn't a lot of blood, and he hadn't hit a major artery. But the bone was poking out of his knee, and I knew in a heart-sinking instant that this indeed was bad. Running to get a towel to wrap around his knee I was lost, and I had no idea what to do for him. I was in shock, but I couldn't help but thank God that it was his leg, that he was still breathing and much calmer than anyone else. The safety had been on until he reached the shed, and it wasn't until he leaned forward to look for the skunk when the gun went off without warning. The shoulder strap most likely brushed the trigger somehow, since his finger wasn't near the trigger, and he was as surprised as Mom and Snowden were. I thank God that Gary was so calm and steady, because it helped me to talk to the 911 dispatcher in a calm and steady manner.
Three surgeries later, and two treatments at the dialysis center in Parsons while I stay with Gary has made me realize how truly blessed I am. I still have my husband, whom I love more than the air I breathe, and my daughter and mother is safe as well. Our family, church, and friend family have kept us supported in prayers and I truly feel the benefit of so many beautiful souls praying for us. We are all faced with difficulties, some irritating and frustrating, but when faced with major difficulties we can see the gifts in life that we are given. Gary has an amazing surgeon who managed to pin everything perfectly and save the knee joint, even if the knee cap was obliterated. And with effort and healing, Gary will be able to put weight on his leg and walk on it. I have faced so many fears this week, and have wanted to cry at times when Gary has faced so much pain and difficulty, but I have felt the support of so many friends, family, and professionals that I can only be optimistic of the future with Gary. God is with us, God will continue to be with us, and as long as we look to Him for answers, we will always feel His encouragement and strength.
Thursday, March 14, 2013
Which way comes...witchy or wicked?
I've been delving into my Bible for Lent and daily devotions as well, and I have found that my new Bible is a NSRV version, which makes the reading so much more enjoyable than my Holy Bible, or the standard King James Versions that I grew up with. And I love the fact that the History channel started airing stories that I have touched upon while starting my devotionals, and they are great, except they have taken artistic flairs which kind of irritates me since it deviates from the more interesting biblical narratives. But to get to my actual theme, I found myself questioning the whole witchcraft and magical theory and wanted to get a "biblical" take on it.
I love watching "Celebrity Ghost Stories," "Haunted Collector," and sometimes "The Haunted." My husband believes I have a morbid obsession with the afterlife. I admit I am most curious about the afterlife, because I have experienced some odd things in my life, that really can't be explained. I do believe in ghosts, and I think there are people out there that can sense and possibly comprehend such oddities that most people shrug off. However, what does the Bible say about such things? Am I sinning by believing such things? Are people sinning against God when they go out of their way to contact the spirits of loved ones or anyone in the beyond?
I have friends in my past who also enjoy dabbling with witchcraft. Nothing dark or dangerous...more like earth-loving free spirited hippies, and I have to laugh at any idea that they would be dark and sinister. I loved every single Harry Potter book and movie, and although I like to entertain myself with the witchcraft stories, I don't believe in the serious practice. I know that I have caught specific verses that go against ANY kind of witchcraft in the Bible. Leviticus 19:27 is pretty damning as it proclaims "A man or a woman who is a medium or a wizard shall be put to death; they shall be stoned to death, their blood is upon them." Seems to be pretty stiff punishment for simply contacting the dead or attempting to celebrate the power of the earth. Deuteronomy 18: 10-11 "No one shall be found among you who makes a son or daughter pass through fire, or who practices divination, or is a soothsayer, or an auger, or a sorcerer, or one who casts spells, or who consults ghosts or spirits, or who seeks oracles from the dead." That pretty much makes my interest in the other world a damning one, not to mention my love of Harry Potter. Why such a vengeful approach to something that seems to be harmless?
In Exodus 7: 11-12, 22; 8: 7, 18-19; 9: 11, Moses and Aaron use God's power to perform all kinds of signs to prove to Pharaoh the power of God. In the first few demonstrations, Pharaoh's magicians were able to perform the same feats. Yet when the signs became more powerful, Pharaoh's magicians couldn't compete. So if even Egypt's elite couldn't exhibit the same powers as God were they even a threat?
What of visions and prophecies, such as the doomsday prophecy that the world would end in December 2012? Or similar doomsday prophecies? Sirach 34: 4-7 claims that dreams mean nothing unless they are given by God. "Unless they are sent by intervention from the Most High, pay no attention to them. For dreams have deceived many, and those who put their hope in them have perished" Sirach 34: 6-7. How am I supposed to know what visions come from God? If the History Channel is correct, the Aztecs and the Hopis didn't worship God Almighty, but aliens from outer space. So I guess those prophecies are out for me.
The Bible does not say that all people who are mediums, sorcerers, or oracles are all phonies. In fact it seems to be quite the opposite. The various authors in the Old Testament warn explicitly against seeking counsel with such people. Why? Through reading throughout the scripture I can hazard a simple guess--if the counsel we seek does not come through God, our Father, then whom does it come from? Is it the dark one, the Father of Lies, Satan? Or does it come from the darkest desires of our human hearts? "From an unclean thing what can be clean? And from something false what can be true?" (Sirach 34:4) Most people want an oracle to give them worldly advice--when will I find my true love? Will I become rich? Famous? So many things we desire to know, and they center around the singular self, a selfish concern. If there is one thing that God and Jesus let us know is that we are put on this earth to rejoice in and worship our God. He gave us our life, our freedom to choose our paths, and the joy of knowing him personally. In the New Testament I could not find anything that focused on the occult, and if Jesus had personally changed the rules. But I did find that Jesus wanted our focus to be on our neighbors--what can we do to make life better for our fellow man? Not what can I do to make my life reach it's fullest potential in either fame, money, or worldly possessions. I think that God's biggest issue with the magical element people sought is that it put a wedge in between God and his people. He wants us to go to him with our problems, to seek a close relationship with Him, and not be led down false paths that pander to our single minded selfishness. Everyone has heard the commandment, "Thou shalt have no other gods before Me." When we turn from God, and seek knowledge from someone or something else, we have inadvertently put something else in a higher position than God, which is unacceptable. Does it require stoning or death? Not in any way, since as Christians, we are not to judge other people for who they are. I firmly believe that we are expected to reject the practices that would detract from our close relationship to God, and witness our loving relationship with God to those who wish to know. However, will I stand upon a soapbox and point an accusing finger at those who do not follow in my faith and religious beliefs? Certainly not. God gives everyone the freedom to choose Him or another path if they so choose. While I will not judge the person, I may judge for myself the practice and refrain from placing myself in the company of those who seek a different path.
And in closing with that feeling, I have to believe that though I find the idea of spirits and hauntings interesting, I will not let it in between me and God. If a message came to me from the "great beyond" it would be thrilling, but not something that I would base my decisions on. For the important choices in my life are to be chosen from the words of wisdom, and from within my heart and consciousness that God has given me. Each to his own, and I choose God.
Monday, February 25, 2013
Queen Vashti Rocks!
Today I felt like reading about major female figures in the Bible, and since the book of Esther is "jacked up" as far as numerical order in my bible, I thought I could try to read and understand it. Some parts of the Bible bother me, and there were a few verses in Esther that definitely bothered me.
For anyone who is familiar with the story of Esther, the story seems to weave romance, suspense, and vindication all into a beautiful story of God's people. The Jewish people face annihilation, only to have their fate held in the faithful hands of Esther. As a woman, Esther holds so much power, more power than is generally attributed to a woman. But she has to be sneaky about it.
The entire reason that Esther is even in the position of Queen to King Ahasuerus is that Queen Vashti, the original wife/queen, was deposed because of her pride. And I can't blame her one bit...
Imagine it--you are a beautiful and desirable woman, who happens to be a queen to a king who is powerful and rich. Your husband loves to throw lavish parties to show off all of his riches to all of his big-shot and important friends, where they get drunk and stupid. The trade-off is that you are rich and you can wear beautiful clothes and jewelry, and enjoy your own parties with your friends. There is just one drawback--you are also property--like the finest linen, expensive jewelry, you are simply an adornment. And when your husband is feeling especially good and ostentatious, you have to go and parade around in front of his drooling, drunk friends. And as property you have no rights, the King will take "no refusal." When Queen Vashti refused to be sent for as a party favor, a base form of amusement for a bunch of inebriated idiots, I fist-pumped and hooted "You rock, Queen Vashti! Don't let a man treat you like a possession! You are more than a beauty contestant."
However, I would be banished right there with Vashti. The King and his officials were angry with her refusal to obey the King's command, and were even afraid that she would become a model to their wives and the wives of men all over, powerful and impoverished. If she wasn't made into an example, women all over might decide to think for themselves and refuse to obey their husbands' commands. Women were only allowed to be objects of beauty, bear their husband his line of heirs, and obey his commands.
Apparently in the Old Testament, that is exactly the position of a woman in biblical times. Some of the women did take their surrounding situations into their own hands and changed the history of their people. Judith used her beauty to enamor the commander of King Nebuchadnezzar, Holofernes, and by cutting off his head she thwarts the destruction of the Jewish people. Delilah used her beauty and excessive nagging to learn Samson's secret and handed him over to the Philistines, contributing to his eventual destruction. Not only are these women beautiful to behold, but the true "great" women were also submissive, wise--as in the art of supplicating to a man--and faithful. Ruth was loyal to her mother-in-law and accompanied her to a foreign land and followed her instructions to the letter. Instructions that had her lay at the feet of Boaz on the threshing floor, which if caught, she would be assumed as his "evening entertainment" and her value subsequently ruined. Queen Vashti might have had trouble with resigning herself to behaving as a man's plaything. Perhaps she was one of the original feminists, or maybe she was just fed up with the drunken demands of her husband. Whatever her reasons, I found that I identified with her more than Esther.
Esther used her beauty, and her genteel manner to catch the attention of the king. Not only did she catch the eye of King Ahasuerus, but she also found favor with the King's eunuch who was in charge of his harem. She was a model example of a woman--beautiful, dainty (she fainted when she first approaches the King and he falls all over her in concern), and proper, knowing when to approach her king, and when to be quietly invisible. She believed in God, and put her faith and love of her people ahead of her own life. Esther, the perfect queen, used her intelligence to trick her enemy, Haman, and saved her beloved Jewish people from annhilation. She was simply perfect.
Sometimes women aren't perfect. Most of the time we're like Queen Vashti and want to be our own person, not someone else's property. It's great to feel loved and valued, but more so for our inner self. Ideal beauty and the readiness to submit to a masculine culture should not be the scale in which we assess our value. It is not wrong to want to be desirable, or clever, or faithful to those who are worthy of such loyalty. It is wrong to hide your true potential underneath an empty facade of inequality. I love my husband, and we share mutual respect, but I am not his property. I am his partner, and I have my own opinion, and unfortunately for those around me, I express it readily and often. I will not be silenced if I feel that what I must say is true or important, and I hope God feels that he can use me just as readily as he has used Ruth, Esther, and Judith , and so many important women in the bible. I just hope he lets me do it with my own twist. I WANT TO ROCK!
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Not Paradise Lost, But Paradise Unrecognized
I was reading this morning in Genesis about Eve--how she came to be, her life within the Garden of Eden, and at last her downfall. I couldn't help but wonder why would someone who is given everything beautiful, new and pure in a virtual paradise risk their happiness for the unknown? Imagine it...a beautiful warm and green and lush place that is filled with every kind of tantalizing fruits, the animals and birds fearless and friendly, and the pristine environment surrounding you with a quiet peace. And to live in this Paradise, all you have to do is not eat from one little tree. One tree, out of every tree in the garden. One type of fruit that was forbidden. How could Eve let herself be manipulated into giving everything up for something she wasn't even sure would be worth it?
I shook my head as I read about Eve, and I did the usual tsk-tsking. But as I thought back to my past, I realized that I was very much like Eve. When I was a child I felt that so much excitement and wonder awaited me--as soon as I grew up. Everything would be better when I could do all the things that grown ups do. Don't get me wrong, there are so many wonderful things that I enjoy doing that only grown ups should do, but I missed so many things by not living in the moment. Maybe my memory has put a golden haze on my past, as my childhood did have it's hurts and humiliations, but the older I get, the more cherished my memories become. I grew up with two wonderful brothers, a cousin who was like a sister, and a beautiful farm where we raised cattle, chickens, and hogs. I had favorite pets who were more like close friends, and I didn't need constant television, games, or movies to entertain me. I had an amazing imagination. I know that I was blessed, and my cup was filled to the brim and continued to flow with all the good things in life. However, I wanted what I didn't know, what I didn't have any experience with. I felt like I was missing out on something...I was always eager to do what was the next big thing.
Eve saw her chance for the next big thing--she would be like God in the sense that she would know the difference between right and wrong. It is highly possible that she didn't realize the ramifications of such a knowledge, but she knew that she wanted to be like God. God who knew everything, who created such an awe-inspiring paradise. Eve's mistake, like mine, was that she didn't focus on the gift of the here and now...what was unknown was much more enticing. Like Eve, I had a taste of paradise...I enjoyed growing up with the freedom to live, love others freely, and enjoy the beauty of my surroundings, and I continued to look to the beyond. I missed the point of life as a growing child. The beauty in life was realized in an afterthought, not the focus of the present. I only hope that I can impress upon my daughter, that today is the focus, the present is paradise. Looking ahead has its value, but it shouldn't remain at the obsessive forefront. I want her to be in the moment, to revel in the here and now, not years from now when bills, illness, heartbreak, and loss of close ones prevail in adult life. The innocence of childhood should be held closely to our hearts, and valued as treasure. That is the paradise we should be content to live within.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Will the Average American Be A Threat To Society???
Today has been a day for uneasiness, a day that has been creeping up on the American people for the past few years. When Obama was originally voted in office Congress split into angry, petty children and refused to work together for the remainder of his term. People were exasperated, frustrated. The next election was incredibly close, but the majority of the people believed in being positive, and worried about health care coverage and equality for women many voted for Obama again, figuring that the government movers and shakers would give up their petty disagreements and once again move and shake for the good of the country.
The American People have been fooled, bamboozled. The government officials that were elected for the good of the people still wage petty wars against each other, each pointing the finger of blame and no one listening to the concerns of the people.
However, the government hasn't completely ignored the cries of the people! Gun violence has become rampant, and the only way to solve it is to make sure that people cannot legally buy assault weaponry, or the ammunition for the weapons they already own. Currently a hot topic President Obama and Vice President Joe Biden are aggressively pushing for massive gun control. The American People would be protected when certain guns are removed from their grasp. Citizens must give up all the "scary" guns owned by those who obey the law and the government will offer protection. Americans won't buy bullets, simply get out a "Louisville Slugger" or an aluminum baseball bat. Such an approach works on possums, why not violent home invasion criminals? But violent criminals will not play dead, or back into a corner snarling. Gun toting criminals (they use guns because they don't follow the rules--hence the word criminals) are more like angry and belligerent skunks. And when clubbing a skunk, someone is bound to get sprayed. What is going to prevent a criminal from illegally buying assault weapons that could be used against the average American and their family? Or robbing a law-abiding citizen who owns weapons? And not just the good old assault weapons, maybe a shotgun, a deer rifle, or a handgun! What is a victim to do when someone breaks down the door and threatens to kill their family for a few earthly possessions that mean nothing when held against the value of life? Call the police...if they were able to instantly transport to the situation that might work, but not realistically possible at this time. So taking away guns, the victim is left to "swing away" and maybe connect a few hits before meeting the business end of a gun obtained by criminals who don't respect gun laws. And if a United States citizen does not obey a total gun ban are they a threat to society?
The case made for gun rights may be over dramatized, and the outrage may be misplaced. Obama and Biden are merely attempting to institute some gun control laws that will protect the American people. According to Obama and Biden, if the nation had stricter gun laws than innocent people would not have lost their lives in places that should be safe and untouchable. An eloquent and emotional supposition which remains in the land of fairy tales. The British have banned guns, and gun violence is incredibly low. Yet knife violence is alive and well. What does this tell Americans who worry about the position of guns in these United States? If we give the government the peoples' last line of defense, citizens will still have to find a way to defend themselves against people that wish to commit bodily harm to the innocent. And if the government decides to enact unconstitutional laws and unfair treatment the members of a great nation will be powerless to stand against tyranny. No one person wishes to feel the absolute helplessness that comes with being at the mercy of any ruling that is independent of the American peoples' input.
Andrew Jackson was the seventh president of the United States, and was voted by the popular vote of the people. He was the first president to be elected based on his popularity rather than his views, creating a popularity contest instead of the position and views of the candidate. Despite his popularity with the common people, the National Republican Party was split in two--on one side the Republicans who wanted John Quincy Adams, and on the other side the Democrats who supported Jackson. Jackson ran with his overwhelming popularity. He used his presidency powers to veto more than the previous presidents before him lending him the nickname, "King Andrew I." He replaced his cabinet with his own loyal supporters in the name of supporting the good of the common people. He was a war hero, and it was a strong element in his election to the presidency. If Jackson thought that it benefited the country, he put it into play, whether he was met with opposition or not. He was popular with most of the people, but did he protect and serve all of the people as a president should?
Why the history lesson? There is also one other thing "Old Hickory" President Jackson was responsible for in American history. In 1832 the Supreme Court ruled in Worcester v. Georgia that the government could not force the Cherokee Indians to move off of the lands that they had tilled and lived in peaceful harmony for years. However, Jackson pushed the Indian Removal Act from 1838-39 regardless of the ruling and forced 15,000 Cherokees onto what was later referred to as "The Trail of Tears." Thousands of innocent lives were lost on that trail, and it was what President Jackson decided was best for his country. When looking back on that part of in history Americans are shamed by the supposed superiority of the settlers, and are not proud of the treatment of the Native American people. The United States of America should protect their children, and the lives of others who do not deserve to lose life at the whim of criminals and their illegal activities. Yet can America submit to full and absolute control of such an action that in the future might lead to another sorrowful and shameful chapter in American history? Absolute power corrupts absolutely. As American citizens, it is by the rights of The People to be a part of future decisions, and be aware of what to support. If Americans stand together and make informed decisions they will not be a threat to society but rather the quintessential American.
The American People have been fooled, bamboozled. The government officials that were elected for the good of the people still wage petty wars against each other, each pointing the finger of blame and no one listening to the concerns of the people.
However, the government hasn't completely ignored the cries of the people! Gun violence has become rampant, and the only way to solve it is to make sure that people cannot legally buy assault weaponry, or the ammunition for the weapons they already own. Currently a hot topic President Obama and Vice President Joe Biden are aggressively pushing for massive gun control. The American People would be protected when certain guns are removed from their grasp. Citizens must give up all the "scary" guns owned by those who obey the law and the government will offer protection. Americans won't buy bullets, simply get out a "Louisville Slugger" or an aluminum baseball bat. Such an approach works on possums, why not violent home invasion criminals? But violent criminals will not play dead, or back into a corner snarling. Gun toting criminals (they use guns because they don't follow the rules--hence the word criminals) are more like angry and belligerent skunks. And when clubbing a skunk, someone is bound to get sprayed. What is going to prevent a criminal from illegally buying assault weapons that could be used against the average American and their family? Or robbing a law-abiding citizen who owns weapons? And not just the good old assault weapons, maybe a shotgun, a deer rifle, or a handgun! What is a victim to do when someone breaks down the door and threatens to kill their family for a few earthly possessions that mean nothing when held against the value of life? Call the police...if they were able to instantly transport to the situation that might work, but not realistically possible at this time. So taking away guns, the victim is left to "swing away" and maybe connect a few hits before meeting the business end of a gun obtained by criminals who don't respect gun laws. And if a United States citizen does not obey a total gun ban are they a threat to society?
The case made for gun rights may be over dramatized, and the outrage may be misplaced. Obama and Biden are merely attempting to institute some gun control laws that will protect the American people. According to Obama and Biden, if the nation had stricter gun laws than innocent people would not have lost their lives in places that should be safe and untouchable. An eloquent and emotional supposition which remains in the land of fairy tales. The British have banned guns, and gun violence is incredibly low. Yet knife violence is alive and well. What does this tell Americans who worry about the position of guns in these United States? If we give the government the peoples' last line of defense, citizens will still have to find a way to defend themselves against people that wish to commit bodily harm to the innocent. And if the government decides to enact unconstitutional laws and unfair treatment the members of a great nation will be powerless to stand against tyranny. No one person wishes to feel the absolute helplessness that comes with being at the mercy of any ruling that is independent of the American peoples' input.
Andrew Jackson was the seventh president of the United States, and was voted by the popular vote of the people. He was the first president to be elected based on his popularity rather than his views, creating a popularity contest instead of the position and views of the candidate. Despite his popularity with the common people, the National Republican Party was split in two--on one side the Republicans who wanted John Quincy Adams, and on the other side the Democrats who supported Jackson. Jackson ran with his overwhelming popularity. He used his presidency powers to veto more than the previous presidents before him lending him the nickname, "King Andrew I." He replaced his cabinet with his own loyal supporters in the name of supporting the good of the common people. He was a war hero, and it was a strong element in his election to the presidency. If Jackson thought that it benefited the country, he put it into play, whether he was met with opposition or not. He was popular with most of the people, but did he protect and serve all of the people as a president should?
Why the history lesson? There is also one other thing "Old Hickory" President Jackson was responsible for in American history. In 1832 the Supreme Court ruled in Worcester v. Georgia that the government could not force the Cherokee Indians to move off of the lands that they had tilled and lived in peaceful harmony for years. However, Jackson pushed the Indian Removal Act from 1838-39 regardless of the ruling and forced 15,000 Cherokees onto what was later referred to as "The Trail of Tears." Thousands of innocent lives were lost on that trail, and it was what President Jackson decided was best for his country. When looking back on that part of in history Americans are shamed by the supposed superiority of the settlers, and are not proud of the treatment of the Native American people. The United States of America should protect their children, and the lives of others who do not deserve to lose life at the whim of criminals and their illegal activities. Yet can America submit to full and absolute control of such an action that in the future might lead to another sorrowful and shameful chapter in American history? Absolute power corrupts absolutely. As American citizens, it is by the rights of The People to be a part of future decisions, and be aware of what to support. If Americans stand together and make informed decisions they will not be a threat to society but rather the quintessential American.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
It's A Crazy New Year
Well, here we are in 2013, and I hadn't made any definite plans. I mean, according to the Mayans, the Hopi, and the Republicans, the world was supposed to end before Christmas. So, intending to free up my calendar and just enjoy living in the moment, I got a little sidetracked and fell to the wayside a bit. I was miserably ill before Christmas, felt like I was dying, and it took a couple of weeks before I came out of that rough period. So since the world continued on as I secretly suspected it would, I am slowly coming back to my reality.
My amazing cousin, more like a sister, is training for a marathon in April. I am so inspired by this chick--she is crazy determined! Boot camp three times a week at the gym, 6 miles running on a couple of days, and that long run on the other day. What do I do? I try to help Gary, my husband, keep up with the wood cutting to fuel our wood stove in our utility building, and run as much as possible, and of course, the old dialysis chair. I feel like a straight wimp at times. So this Wednesday when sweet Chelle invited me to the gym to either join her class for the night or hit the treadmills, I was excited to join her. Now I did dialysis that day and drove up to Wichita, but I didn't have the nurses pull off too much fluid, so I felt pretty confident I would be fine. And no, I did NOT participate in the boot camp class. It focused on lifting weights, and my fistula arm is not supposed to be involved in too much weight lifting. So I introduced myself to a very sexy treadmill, and we hit it off immediately while Chelle went off to fine tune those guns she's developing.
Sounds splendid, right? Well, it didn't stay that way. Usually I run at speed 5, and go clean up to 6 or 7, depending on my "spunkiness" level, and this time I dragged it down to 4 1/2 to start off. I couldn't push myself too much, and ended up doing a little over 2 miles in 30 minutes. What a bummer! Usually I pull 3 miles out of 30 minutes! So I pushed the next 30 minutes into walking up high inclines and power walking on the lower levels. I'm used to my treadmill going for as long as I want at home, and this hot little number I was working with decided at 60 minutes it was quitting time. (Which is what I planned, but still--I like to be the one to call the shots!)
That was not what let me know what pathetic shape I let myself get into recently. What got me into the realm of reality was my super sweet and kick ass cousin inviting me to the last of her session, the boot camp abs workout. (I sit here at this moment trying not to use my abs at any point to move or pull myself off of this couch.) Good Golly Miss Molly! We did 4 ab exercises--lying leg raise, heel high toe touch, bicycles, and the 15 second left, middle, and right planks. Oh, and we repeated those 3 times! I did okay the first round, and by the second round my middle felt as though it had burned out to paralyzed numbness. My mind was willing to command my abs to function, but my stomach was bewildered, and my legs flopped crazily in chaotic patterns as I urged the command onward. And my sweet, adorable cousin sprouted horns and a devilish grin as she cooed, "You're doing awesome! You can do it, just a few more, just a few more seconds!" Oh, how I love that girl, but how much more I loved the mat and the floor as I flopped after the sets. And now my abs are pissed. I could barely move off the bed this morning and rolled over my husband in an awkward effort to get up. My sides are sore to the touch and I can say only one thing....
I LOVE IT!!!! How awesome is it when you look in the mirror and you start to see everything that's wrong with you--lumpy thighs, pudgy tummy, and then after pushing yourself to achieve some goal in a workout your view suddenly shifts!!! I began to see thighs that could go for an hour on the treadmill, even after dialysis, and my stomach beginning to develop muscular tone. I don't feel like such a slug anymore, I feel empowered! And that's what I love about the pain of beginning a new year of fitness--I feel that I have the power to do so many positive things, beginning with me and my health. I can only hope that others may find such a joy and peace within themselves.
Oh, and sis, I will be working on those ab workouts at home, and the Jillian Michaels DVDs I got earlier this week. And when I come back, I will be better, and WE WILL ROCK! Keep the flame of inspiration coming, you are amazing!
My amazing cousin, more like a sister, is training for a marathon in April. I am so inspired by this chick--she is crazy determined! Boot camp three times a week at the gym, 6 miles running on a couple of days, and that long run on the other day. What do I do? I try to help Gary, my husband, keep up with the wood cutting to fuel our wood stove in our utility building, and run as much as possible, and of course, the old dialysis chair. I feel like a straight wimp at times. So this Wednesday when sweet Chelle invited me to the gym to either join her class for the night or hit the treadmills, I was excited to join her. Now I did dialysis that day and drove up to Wichita, but I didn't have the nurses pull off too much fluid, so I felt pretty confident I would be fine. And no, I did NOT participate in the boot camp class. It focused on lifting weights, and my fistula arm is not supposed to be involved in too much weight lifting. So I introduced myself to a very sexy treadmill, and we hit it off immediately while Chelle went off to fine tune those guns she's developing.
Sounds splendid, right? Well, it didn't stay that way. Usually I run at speed 5, and go clean up to 6 or 7, depending on my "spunkiness" level, and this time I dragged it down to 4 1/2 to start off. I couldn't push myself too much, and ended up doing a little over 2 miles in 30 minutes. What a bummer! Usually I pull 3 miles out of 30 minutes! So I pushed the next 30 minutes into walking up high inclines and power walking on the lower levels. I'm used to my treadmill going for as long as I want at home, and this hot little number I was working with decided at 60 minutes it was quitting time. (Which is what I planned, but still--I like to be the one to call the shots!)
That was not what let me know what pathetic shape I let myself get into recently. What got me into the realm of reality was my super sweet and kick ass cousin inviting me to the last of her session, the boot camp abs workout. (I sit here at this moment trying not to use my abs at any point to move or pull myself off of this couch.) Good Golly Miss Molly! We did 4 ab exercises--lying leg raise, heel high toe touch, bicycles, and the 15 second left, middle, and right planks. Oh, and we repeated those 3 times! I did okay the first round, and by the second round my middle felt as though it had burned out to paralyzed numbness. My mind was willing to command my abs to function, but my stomach was bewildered, and my legs flopped crazily in chaotic patterns as I urged the command onward. And my sweet, adorable cousin sprouted horns and a devilish grin as she cooed, "You're doing awesome! You can do it, just a few more, just a few more seconds!" Oh, how I love that girl, but how much more I loved the mat and the floor as I flopped after the sets. And now my abs are pissed. I could barely move off the bed this morning and rolled over my husband in an awkward effort to get up. My sides are sore to the touch and I can say only one thing....
I LOVE IT!!!! How awesome is it when you look in the mirror and you start to see everything that's wrong with you--lumpy thighs, pudgy tummy, and then after pushing yourself to achieve some goal in a workout your view suddenly shifts!!! I began to see thighs that could go for an hour on the treadmill, even after dialysis, and my stomach beginning to develop muscular tone. I don't feel like such a slug anymore, I feel empowered! And that's what I love about the pain of beginning a new year of fitness--I feel that I have the power to do so many positive things, beginning with me and my health. I can only hope that others may find such a joy and peace within themselves.
Oh, and sis, I will be working on those ab workouts at home, and the Jillian Michaels DVDs I got earlier this week. And when I come back, I will be better, and WE WILL ROCK! Keep the flame of inspiration coming, you are amazing!
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