Could it be because . . .
. . . my tonsils are so swollen I can barely swallow.
. . . I ate Kentucky Fried Chicken yesterday (original recipe) for the first time in sixteen years. I also had some of the Colonel's mashed potatoes and gravy. ughh!
. . . the Tiger's blew a one-run game in Chicago last night.
. . . speaking of baseball, Isaac's last game of the season was cancelled. Why? Well rain of course.
. . . I just spent two hours scrubbing black mold off my basement walls. Nothing beats the smell of Clorox on your hands. Mmm.
. . . I have hampers of ironing to do and my diet pill is wearing off (extra points if you can name the movie).
Well, I just popped two Motrins and happy hour is minutes away.
Relief is in sight!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Producing Pearls
Yesterday's sermon at St. Ambrose Church included reflections upon a well-known biblical parable--about the guy who searches the world to find a pearl of great value. And, when he finds it, he sells everything that he owns to buy it. The point is clear, that the Word of God is a like a valuable pearl. It may be small and is easily lost. But to look at a perfect pearl is to see great beauty of unestimatable (is that a word?) value. It's worth searching the world to find.
Rather than focus on the big and flashy, sometimes it's what's small, beautiful and hard to find that is of real value. Sometimes small, hidden things are worth much more than what we show the world. When walking down the street we notice the flashy dressers, and the showy jewelry, but a generous spirit and a joyful heart are not immediately evident. Sometimes we need to search long and hard to find them. Like Neil Young sang, "Keep me searching for a heart of gold. I am a miner for a heart of gold. And I'm getting old."
Second point of Father Tim's sermon yesterday--and yes, I was listening despite all evidence otherwise--relates to how pearls are formed. It starts as a grain of sand, an irritant, that get's inside the oyster. To protect itself from this irritant, the oyster secretes a substance that surrounds the grain of sand, and, in time, a pearl is formed. Without on obnoxious intruder, that grain of sand, there would be no pearl.
The point to reflect upon is to think about those things in our life that annoy us, but make us better in the end. As Kanye West said so eloquently, "Th-th-that that don't kill me, can only make me stronger." Sometimes the irritating action require physical activity when we'd rather rest--like cutting the grass in the summer heat, or taking the dog for a walk after dinner. Those are things I'd rather not do, but in the end make me stronger. But more than the physical, there are chores in our lives, things we do out of a sense of responsibility, that help us be better persons.
Visiting my mother in her hospital, talking to Clarisa's 95-year-old great uncle on the telephone, passing the peace to every person within ten feet of me, requires me to stretch oh so slightly. But, in the end, I'm better for extending myself. Kindness and thoughtfulness require effort. It's so much easier to remain wrapped in my own thoughts than to empathize with others, especially those in pain. Empathy sometimes requires putting yourself in the shoes of someone old and alone. It sometimes means touching a person I'm not attracted to.
If your life was always smooth, with no pain or irritants, then we'd never change or grow. We'd just keep going along as always. However, as we encounter difficulties in life, irritants that drive us crazy, we find opportunities for growth and even beauty to emerge. It's as we adapt to hardship that the best parts of our character develop. As we deal with difficulty, we create for ourselves and for other pearls of inestimatable value.
Think about that next time you lend a hand to that annoying neighbor.
Rather than focus on the big and flashy, sometimes it's what's small, beautiful and hard to find that is of real value. Sometimes small, hidden things are worth much more than what we show the world. When walking down the street we notice the flashy dressers, and the showy jewelry, but a generous spirit and a joyful heart are not immediately evident. Sometimes we need to search long and hard to find them. Like Neil Young sang, "Keep me searching for a heart of gold. I am a miner for a heart of gold. And I'm getting old."
Second point of Father Tim's sermon yesterday--and yes, I was listening despite all evidence otherwise--relates to how pearls are formed. It starts as a grain of sand, an irritant, that get's inside the oyster. To protect itself from this irritant, the oyster secretes a substance that surrounds the grain of sand, and, in time, a pearl is formed. Without on obnoxious intruder, that grain of sand, there would be no pearl.
The point to reflect upon is to think about those things in our life that annoy us, but make us better in the end. As Kanye West said so eloquently, "Th-th-that that don't kill me, can only make me stronger." Sometimes the irritating action require physical activity when we'd rather rest--like cutting the grass in the summer heat, or taking the dog for a walk after dinner. Those are things I'd rather not do, but in the end make me stronger. But more than the physical, there are chores in our lives, things we do out of a sense of responsibility, that help us be better persons.
Visiting my mother in her hospital, talking to Clarisa's 95-year-old great uncle on the telephone, passing the peace to every person within ten feet of me, requires me to stretch oh so slightly. But, in the end, I'm better for extending myself. Kindness and thoughtfulness require effort. It's so much easier to remain wrapped in my own thoughts than to empathize with others, especially those in pain. Empathy sometimes requires putting yourself in the shoes of someone old and alone. It sometimes means touching a person I'm not attracted to.
If your life was always smooth, with no pain or irritants, then we'd never change or grow. We'd just keep going along as always. However, as we encounter difficulties in life, irritants that drive us crazy, we find opportunities for growth and even beauty to emerge. It's as we adapt to hardship that the best parts of our character develop. As we deal with difficulty, we create for ourselves and for other pearls of inestimatable value.
Think about that next time you lend a hand to that annoying neighbor.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Let's Do the Time Warp Again
While I'm not much of a Rocky Horror Picture Show fan, nor did I really like the endless film loop known as Groundhog Day, the idea of reliving parts of your life over and over, until you finally get it right appeals to me. Yet at some point in your life relentless replays can become exhausting, especially if you never seem to get that aspect of your life right.
As you've grown older/wiser/more mature, what have you gotten better at. Me? I think I've become a better parent--finding that balance between discipline and encouragement is easier with practice. However, I can't seem to figure out friendships--how to open myself to relationships outside my family circle.
I'd love to hear your stories/observations about personal growth and areas where it's the same thing over and over. We have one life to live, and the more help we get along the way, the better our chances for success.
Cheers!
As you've grown older/wiser/more mature, what have you gotten better at. Me? I think I've become a better parent--finding that balance between discipline and encouragement is easier with practice. However, I can't seem to figure out friendships--how to open myself to relationships outside my family circle.
I'd love to hear your stories/observations about personal growth and areas where it's the same thing over and over. We have one life to live, and the more help we get along the way, the better our chances for success.
Cheers!
Saturday, July 9, 2011
So Says the Doctor
"It's severe arthritis," the doctor said.
We immediately were relieved, having feared a worse diagnosis.
"Look at the spinal column," the doctor explained. We studied the x-ray film closely. "The lumbar are supposed to be flush with each other, but see these raised areas between each vertebrae? That's what arthritis looks like."
It looked painful. "So what do we do?" we asked the doctor.
"Well, with medication, continued exercise and daily doses of Glucosamine, she should be able to walk normally, even run some," the doctor said reassuringly. But now I understood what I had noticed over the last few months. Long a faithful running partner, this year we walked more and ran less. Sometimes, at night, she preferred to stay downstairs rather than climb stairs. The signs of her declining physical abilities were obvious, I just overlooked them. But, earlier that morning, I feared a much worse outcome from our doctor's visit.
Shortly after waking up I found her in the kitchen where she had remained all night. She hadn't even gone to bed. When I tried to help her move, she winced in pain. Had she broken her hip? Was it a stroke? Was her life in danger?
But Carly is not yet ten years old. She suffered no apparent trauma. Yet, seemingly in one day she went from being a vibrant companion with a puppy's spirit to a cautious old dog. And I was concerned.
Carly is my first-ever dog. My parents didn't approve of pets and I carried that bias into my family as well. However, when a free Labrador Retriever puppy became available, even I succumbed to my children's pleadings. "But, if she ever starts costing me money," I warned the children, "I'll put her down in a heartbeat."
Now, almost 10 years later, I was willing to pay a veterinarian whatever it cost to make Carly comfortable. "How long do labs typically live?" I asked the vet. "Ten to twelve years," he replied.
I was astounded. "That's all? I thought dogs lived about fifteen years." "Not big dogs like labs," said the vet.
It felt like a slap in my face. In my heart I know Carly has only a few more years left in her, but the vet's words felt like a death sentence. "Yeah, if you're lucky she could reach fourteen," he added, seeing despair flash across my face. All of a sudden the ongoing conversation about getting a second dog flashed in my mind. I've joked that the same year Isaac, our youngest child, leaves for college, might be the year Carly dies. Talk about an empty nest! We should get another pet soon, BEFORE Carly passes.
I always said Clarisa needed a "pet in reserve," but honestly, hearing from the vet that Carly's demise really is imminent, put me in a panic. What would I do without my dog?
I never expected that I would become attached to an animal. And, I've inwardly chuckled at persons who express humanlike affection toward their animals. But, now that I know what it like to care about a pet, I understand those feelings.
Fortunately Carly is chowing down her meds like a champion and she's moving around now with seemingly less pain. She walked five miles today, and looks like she can do it again tomorrow.
The old girl has a few more years in her--but I'm aware now that the days are numbered and that difficult times await us as she wears down further. I hope Carly understands that her family will walk with her each and ever step until the day she passes.
Reading this I can't believe I feel this way about a dog!
We immediately were relieved, having feared a worse diagnosis.
"Look at the spinal column," the doctor explained. We studied the x-ray film closely. "The lumbar are supposed to be flush with each other, but see these raised areas between each vertebrae? That's what arthritis looks like."
It looked painful. "So what do we do?" we asked the doctor.
"Well, with medication, continued exercise and daily doses of Glucosamine, she should be able to walk normally, even run some," the doctor said reassuringly. But now I understood what I had noticed over the last few months. Long a faithful running partner, this year we walked more and ran less. Sometimes, at night, she preferred to stay downstairs rather than climb stairs. The signs of her declining physical abilities were obvious, I just overlooked them. But, earlier that morning, I feared a much worse outcome from our doctor's visit.
Shortly after waking up I found her in the kitchen where she had remained all night. She hadn't even gone to bed. When I tried to help her move, she winced in pain. Had she broken her hip? Was it a stroke? Was her life in danger?
But Carly is not yet ten years old. She suffered no apparent trauma. Yet, seemingly in one day she went from being a vibrant companion with a puppy's spirit to a cautious old dog. And I was concerned.
Carly is my first-ever dog. My parents didn't approve of pets and I carried that bias into my family as well. However, when a free Labrador Retriever puppy became available, even I succumbed to my children's pleadings. "But, if she ever starts costing me money," I warned the children, "I'll put her down in a heartbeat."
Now, almost 10 years later, I was willing to pay a veterinarian whatever it cost to make Carly comfortable. "How long do labs typically live?" I asked the vet. "Ten to twelve years," he replied.
I was astounded. "That's all? I thought dogs lived about fifteen years." "Not big dogs like labs," said the vet.
It felt like a slap in my face. In my heart I know Carly has only a few more years left in her, but the vet's words felt like a death sentence. "Yeah, if you're lucky she could reach fourteen," he added, seeing despair flash across my face. All of a sudden the ongoing conversation about getting a second dog flashed in my mind. I've joked that the same year Isaac, our youngest child, leaves for college, might be the year Carly dies. Talk about an empty nest! We should get another pet soon, BEFORE Carly passes.
I always said Clarisa needed a "pet in reserve," but honestly, hearing from the vet that Carly's demise really is imminent, put me in a panic. What would I do without my dog?
I never expected that I would become attached to an animal. And, I've inwardly chuckled at persons who express humanlike affection toward their animals. But, now that I know what it like to care about a pet, I understand those feelings.
Fortunately Carly is chowing down her meds like a champion and she's moving around now with seemingly less pain. She walked five miles today, and looks like she can do it again tomorrow.
The old girl has a few more years in her--but I'm aware now that the days are numbered and that difficult times await us as she wears down further. I hope Carly understands that her family will walk with her each and ever step until the day she passes.
Reading this I can't believe I feel this way about a dog!
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