It is just sleeping, but not yet weaned and I have no idea where its mother is. (I am sensible enough to have washed my hands.)
Thursday, August 31, 2006
controlled pests
There is a line which once crossed makes pest control more difficult.
It is just sleeping, but not yet weaned and I have no idea where its mother is. (I am sensible enough to have washed my hands.)
It is just sleeping, but not yet weaned and I have no idea where its mother is. (I am sensible enough to have washed my hands.)
Sunday, August 27, 2006
elephants in the flood waters
I'm just home from a brief stint in New Orleans attempting to assist in gutting houses with Samaritan's Purse. There is somewhere between too much to say and no way to put it all into words. The devastation has been well documented, pictorially and in articles, by individuals and news staff since the hurricane. What cannot be portrayed in a photo is the impact of the damage that is evident as you drive past miles and miles of demolished homes, or gutted homes with FEMA trailers parked out front. In the face of the enormity of the clean-up that will be necessary to restore some sense of normalcy to the coast it is seemingly impossible to know where to start in the process. More than once
someone on our team or on the staff voiced the question, 'How do you eat an elephant?'. The answer, as we know, is 'One bite at a time.' The pessimist in me wonders if there is any good in eating an elephant if it is rotten beyond benefit by the time you finish. Many of the people of New Orleans have relocated as new opportunities have risen in their 'temporary' homes. There are continues to be red tape for individuals dealing with insurance or settlement issues. The entire clean up process is overwhelming in its magnitude as well as the interlaced and compounded issues surfacing through the process. I ended up thinking that perhaps you end up eating something other than an elephant. But, more so, the people affected have worked as community and neighbors to help each other when possible, but more importantly communicate hope.
The greatest gift of the trip for me was the meeting the people that I worked and traveled (+40 hours) with. After the time spent with the team from Menomonie as well as the people of Samaritan's Purse it was quite difficult to think of returning to life without the camaraderie that was enjoyed all week. I have been in missions/ministry much of my life and after this trip I decided to just let it hurt to be separating from the people that I spent the week with. We spent some times together that have to be among the best memories of my life. (Not to mention that I have been taught how to remove a door frame.) The friendships formed remind me that one of the greatest gifts of heaven will be the time that we will have to spend with each other - regardless of schedules, obligations, or physical separation. Time spent with others within tight quarters and hot working conditions was an excellent opportunity for growth. After long days pounding down walls and shoveling plaster, I was still happy to see them when we left the work site. As a self-proclaimed hermit (half the time) this was notable to me - and now it is a bit sad to not have seen them for three days. I suppose when my schedule picks up and obligations increase, perhaps the physical separation will be less noticeable. In some ways, I hope not. I hope that we would learn the importance of community and serving each other before it takes a hurricane to call us to spend time with each other. 
Samaritan's Purse is an excellent charitable organization. Not only is the work being (albeit slowly) done, the gospel is being shared and individuals have ears to tell their stories too. The accommodations for volunteers are more than adequate as needs are met spiritually, emotionally, and physically. Our safety on the job site was of top priority as were our physical needs of food and water for the work days. The atmosphere created and encouraged by the Samaritan's Purse staff is conducive to enjoying the time there while in the midst of a lot of hard work as well as being surrounded by the destruction from the storm. The trip was the perfect combination of extreme de-construction (hot, sweaty hard work), French cuisine (or at least a French chef), and time spent as Christ's hands and with His people.So the answer to the age old question 'How do you eat an elephant?' is the answer that has worked for thousands of years. It is best to invite friends and neighbors, especially those who are hungry, to a feast of togetherness and there, one bit at a time, devour that elephant.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
slightly distorted
In March, Christine Ruth, at Cedarbrook church was speaking on marriage: the refiner's fire. She used the analogy of a mirror to depict how a marriage should operate as a way to see ourselves. It was interesting that she pointed out that at times our spouses (or closest friends) bring out the worst in us. It is that this is to be
expected, and we have the opportunity to grow because of it. Our soul's mirrors extend to our relationships with our children, co-workers, and friends. This is then one of the many ways that community is used as a 'refiner's fire' to expose the flaws within us.
Just recently I have been reading Circle of Quiet by Madeleine L'Engle. She also writes of the our need for a mirror in others.
"I don't know what I'm like. I get glimpses of myself in other people's eyes. I try to be careful whom I use as a mirror: my husband; my children; my mother; the friends of my right hand. If I do something which disappoints them I can easily read it in their responses. They mirror their pleasure or approval, too."
She goes on to say that we aren't always careful of our mirrors. We choose to view ourselves through someone else's mirror, rather than the mirror that is meant to be distinctly for us. Christine Ruth closed her talk by saying that it is in a relationship with Christ that we have the opportunity to allow his refiner's fire to "surface the dross and form us into the pure, tested, and beautiful image of God". I would pray that there is more reflected from within than just me - my wishes, my desires, my thoughts, my demands; but also the love of Christ and the peace of the abundance of life lived in relationship with Him.
expected, and we have the opportunity to grow because of it. Our soul's mirrors extend to our relationships with our children, co-workers, and friends. This is then one of the many ways that community is used as a 'refiner's fire' to expose the flaws within us.Just recently I have been reading Circle of Quiet by Madeleine L'Engle. She also writes of the our need for a mirror in others.
"I don't know what I'm like. I get glimpses of myself in other people's eyes. I try to be careful whom I use as a mirror: my husband; my children; my mother; the friends of my right hand. If I do something which disappoints them I can easily read it in their responses. They mirror their pleasure or approval, too."
She goes on to say that we aren't always careful of our mirrors. We choose to view ourselves through someone else's mirror, rather than the mirror that is meant to be distinctly for us. Christine Ruth closed her talk by saying that it is in a relationship with Christ that we have the opportunity to allow his refiner's fire to "surface the dross and form us into the pure, tested, and beautiful image of God". I would pray that there is more reflected from within than just me - my wishes, my desires, my thoughts, my demands; but also the love of Christ and the peace of the abundance of life lived in relationship with Him.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
cricket control
The basement is full of crickets. I have decided that I won't wage war on the spiders, they eat a lot of crickets. This spider was on my laundry hamper - that's the blue background - then he hopped onto the floor. Then he just hopped all over.
Would crickets lay eggs in houseplants?I have also tried feeding the crickets to my fish, but they don't eat them and I just ended up rescuing the cricket I had tried to murder anyway.
Ironic: I just paid $5 for algae to feed to my $3.50 plecostomus. Considering the condition of Tainter/Menomin lakes, this seems absolutely absurd. That also exceeds my own lunch budget by 100%.
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Monday, August 14, 2006
less bright, more contrast: one year ago
One year ago today I ripped off the end of my middle finger on my left hand. I got the finger stuck between two pieces of steel and then pulled - apparently wild animals aren't the only ones capable of pulling off appendages or limbs to free themselves. I, of course, have pictures of the entire healing process. I was off work for about a month. It wasn't possible to diaper kids due to the nature of the injury. Not to mention the fact that my finger was crushed and there were times that it hurt quite a bit. It is evident from the photos that I have interspersed with those of my finger that I was able to take pictures of butterflies and flowers while my hand healed.
This first photo, taken two days after the accident, shows that there was apparently good circulation present across the top of my finger. There were hopes that the entire top would 'simply' heal back to the rest of the finger and all would be normal-like. The finger was torn at an angle as I pulled upwards to free it. I can't quite remember, but I think there were about 11 stitches in there. As it turned out the stiches were not allowing the top of the finger to heal to the bottom, they were pulling the top piece in to provide structure for the healing that would be taking place from the inside out. The end of my finger was just a smudge on the x-ray - the bone was obliterated.
From the beginning of the healing process I sat out in the yard next to the zinnias and took pictures of butterflies. I couldn't drive while on the narcotics, so I was only at the house for awhile.
One stitch went through the nail. It was interesting that much of the way this all felt was exactly as you would expect it to feel - that stitch ended up feeling like something permanently stabbed under my nail.
It was immediately evident that the top layer of skin was going to go. We left it in place to provide a cap to stuff antibiotic ointment under. Mom did all the wound dressing on it at first. She boiled water and allowed it to cool. I then soaked it in that water with dish soap. We smothered it in antibiotic ointment and wrapped it all back up again. I also began to learn how to use my camera in 'macro' mode.
I think these are called sulfur butterflies. They are very common and rather easy to photograph - but hey, I was injured.
After a week and a half I went (with a date) to get the stitches out. (First date) After the stitches were out we went out hiking, but I didn't take my camera. The stiches wouldn't have stayed in much longer, the flesh was just mush. When he pulled the stiches out I realized that this wasn't going to heal like I had thought it was. Two pieces weren't going to grow back together because all of one piece was goo. Whatever finger I was going to get back was going to grow back from the inside - using the goo as a blueprint. (As it turned out it was also the last date.)
This butterfly (an admiral, I think) is a bit harder to catch a picture of.
Life did go on - I just watched more than was part of it. I took this picture of Grandpa's wagon wheel while everyone else unloaded stuff out of the hay mow.
The picture of the sunset at Tainter is one of my favorite. I took about 30 shots of that sunset, but I won't put them all here.
All that flesh that looks like a green glob of goo - died. It is now the reason that my finger is considerably shorter than it was.
The whole flap could be lifted relatively easily. I felt like I was dissecting myself, but it kinda looked that way too.
Swallowtails are not always sitting about waiting to be photographed. This one is altered to look watercolored. Perhaps someday I will learn to watercolor for reals and then I won't have to have the computer make it look like watercolor.
The flesh glop on the end of my finger looks less
and less like part of my finger.
I decided to remove the skin just because it was there and I could. Without the flap of skin, the living tissue was apparent. The normal feeling in my finger now is on the live side of the finger in these pictures.
The palm-frond-like thing is from Sheryl and Mark's wedding.
The flowers were a get-well gift from Mom and Dad.
This is not how my finger looks now, but it is how it looked for a long time. The dead tissue gradually grew smaller and smaller. Eventually I had to pull a chunk of it out/off and that seemed to allow the remaining hole to seal up. Now my finger is shorter than it was. The part of it that was that green glob did not completely regenerate and my finger nail quickly grows out over the dip on the left side. But I do have a finger nail and I can feel most of it in some capacity. There seem to be bone chips working out of it, but it rarely (really) hurts. I suppose all's well that ends well. I can play the piano and type, I don't suppose much more is needed.
We went to see the Body Worlds exhibit at the Science Museum of Minnesota last Friday. There was the skeleton of a left hand on display so I went to go look at what the bone of my finger is supposed to look like and the display hand was missing the last digit of its middle finger! Apparently it is a common accident - in December of last year Mom did the same thing to her right hand. Hers is a cleaner cut, but with more nerve damage. So it looks more normal, but feels less so.
That was one year ago. One year from now I don't know where I will be working or living. I would like to stay in the area, but may end up in South Dakota or North Carolina. It will all depend on what surprises (or lack of surprises) this year brings.
For I know the plan I have for you...
This first photo, taken two days after the accident, shows that there was apparently good circulation present across the top of my finger. There were hopes that the entire top would 'simply' heal back to the rest of the finger and all would be normal-like. The finger was torn at an angle as I pulled upwards to free it. I can't quite remember, but I think there were about 11 stitches in there. As it turned out the stiches were not allowing the top of the finger to heal to the bottom, they were pulling the top piece in to provide structure for the healing that would be taking place from the inside out. The end of my finger was just a smudge on the x-ray - the bone was obliterated.
From the beginning of the healing process I sat out in the yard next to the zinnias and took pictures of butterflies. I couldn't drive while on the narcotics, so I was only at the house for awhile.
One stitch went through the nail. It was interesting that much of the way this all felt was exactly as you would expect it to feel - that stitch ended up feeling like something permanently stabbed under my nail.
It was immediately evident that the top layer of skin was going to go. We left it in place to provide a cap to stuff antibiotic ointment under. Mom did all the wound dressing on it at first. She boiled water and allowed it to cool. I then soaked it in that water with dish soap. We smothered it in antibiotic ointment and wrapped it all back up again. I also began to learn how to use my camera in 'macro' mode.
I think these are called sulfur butterflies. They are very common and rather easy to photograph - but hey, I was injured.
After a week and a half I went (with a date) to get the stitches out. (First date) After the stitches were out we went out hiking, but I didn't take my camera. The stiches wouldn't have stayed in much longer, the flesh was just mush. When he pulled the stiches out I realized that this wasn't going to heal like I had thought it was. Two pieces weren't going to grow back together because all of one piece was goo. Whatever finger I was going to get back was going to grow back from the inside - using the goo as a blueprint. (As it turned out it was also the last date.)
This butterfly (an admiral, I think) is a bit harder to catch a picture of.
Life did go on - I just watched more than was part of it. I took this picture of Grandpa's wagon wheel while everyone else unloaded stuff out of the hay mow.
The picture of the sunset at Tainter is one of my favorite. I took about 30 shots of that sunset, but I won't put them all here.
All that flesh that looks like a green glob of goo - died. It is now the reason that my finger is considerably shorter than it was.
The whole flap could be lifted relatively easily. I felt like I was dissecting myself, but it kinda looked that way too.Swallowtails are not always sitting about waiting to be photographed. This one is altered to look watercolored. Perhaps someday I will learn to watercolor for reals and then I won't have to have the computer make it look like watercolor.
The flesh glop on the end of my finger looks less
and less like part of my finger.
I decided to remove the skin just because it was there and I could. Without the flap of skin, the living tissue was apparent. The normal feeling in my finger now is on the live side of the finger in these pictures.
The palm-frond-like thing is from Sheryl and Mark's wedding.
The flowers were a get-well gift from Mom and Dad.
This is not how my finger looks now, but it is how it looked for a long time. The dead tissue gradually grew smaller and smaller. Eventually I had to pull a chunk of it out/off and that seemed to allow the remaining hole to seal up. Now my finger is shorter than it was. The part of it that was that green glob did not completely regenerate and my finger nail quickly grows out over the dip on the left side. But I do have a finger nail and I can feel most of it in some capacity. There seem to be bone chips working out of it, but it rarely (really) hurts. I suppose all's well that ends well. I can play the piano and type, I don't suppose much more is needed.
We went to see the Body Worlds exhibit at the Science Museum of Minnesota last Friday. There was the skeleton of a left hand on display so I went to go look at what the bone of my finger is supposed to look like and the display hand was missing the last digit of its middle finger! Apparently it is a common accident - in December of last year Mom did the same thing to her right hand. Hers is a cleaner cut, but with more nerve damage. So it looks more normal, but feels less so.
That was one year ago. One year from now I don't know where I will be working or living. I would like to stay in the area, but may end up in South Dakota or North Carolina. It will all depend on what surprises (or lack of surprises) this year brings.For I know the plan I have for you...
Saturday, August 12, 2006
prayer on beauty
Mark found this 'Prayer on Beauty' published for teens.
Well, Lord, what happens now
when I have to face up to being plain?
For as long as I can remember
I've been waiting for that magic moment
when suddenly it would hit me
that I was beautiful
that my dull hair was dazzling,
my cloudy eyes radiant,
my pinched smile devastating.
Well, I've had enough of waiting, Lord,
because You've been no fairy godmother
to this modern Cinderella.
I suppose I should be thankful
for the hidden assets You've given me,
but I've already brainwashed myself
into neglecting them as unimportant
while I read the latest beauty hints,
listened to the luring voice of glamour
whispering constantly in my eye,
and prayed to You for a miracle.
All right, Lord, I get the point
that I should start developing
my other gifts as compensation,
but at least give me time
to adapt to being just plain me.
Reprinted from Prayer for the Time Being.
I'm glad that I have made efforts to be developing my other gifts as compensation for being just plain me. - hope I've got enough other gifts to compensate.
Well, Lord, what happens now
when I have to face up to being plain?
For as long as I can remember
I've been waiting for that magic moment
when suddenly it would hit me
that I was beautiful
that my dull hair was dazzling,
my cloudy eyes radiant,
my pinched smile devastating.
Well, I've had enough of waiting, Lord,
because You've been no fairy godmother
to this modern Cinderella.
I suppose I should be thankful
for the hidden assets You've given me,
but I've already brainwashed myself
into neglecting them as unimportant
while I read the latest beauty hints,
listened to the luring voice of glamour
whispering constantly in my eye,
and prayed to You for a miracle.
All right, Lord, I get the point
that I should start developing
my other gifts as compensation,
but at least give me time
to adapt to being just plain me.
Reprinted from Prayer for the Time Being.
I'm glad that I have made efforts to be developing my other gifts as compensation for being just plain me. - hope I've got enough other gifts to compensate.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
without permission
After mentioning to yesterday's mentioned friend that I mentioned that she mentioned I was self-centered, she clarified with 'self-reliant' and 'independent' - not so negative after all.
I've been spending wonderful time in the basement doing basement improvement activities that I did not have to ask permission to do. This evening at 7:15 I decided it was high time I stencil
the bathroom. So I did. Perhaps some evening I will think it is high time to put the finishing around the bathroom door. But since I don't know what that finishing is called and it all comes down to nuts and screws kinda stuff, maybe I'll stick to stenciling. Now I am facing the fact that I will have to do about 20 more of those little sections to actually finish the project. Perhaps I should look into redefining 'finished'. Like my walls now have pictures on them so they are 'finished' and I needn't worry about finishing the wall beyond the sheet rock.
So this is my 'free' time being spent on whatever I am in the mood to spend it on. Thankfully it has been quite productive lately. I
wish I could read and stencil at the same time. I suppose I could try audio books, but I guess that actually sounds extraordinarily geeky and I wouldn't confess to it anyway. School starts in less than a month and then I will have no free time and it will not matter one hoot what I think I want to be doing other than homework.
(Fish tank update: nitrite levels are back to 'safe' - "Fishtanks are like zits - messing with 'em just makes 'em worse")
I've been spending wonderful time in the basement doing basement improvement activities that I did not have to ask permission to do. This evening at 7:15 I decided it was high time I stencil
the bathroom. So I did. Perhaps some evening I will think it is high time to put the finishing around the bathroom door. But since I don't know what that finishing is called and it all comes down to nuts and screws kinda stuff, maybe I'll stick to stenciling. Now I am facing the fact that I will have to do about 20 more of those little sections to actually finish the project. Perhaps I should look into redefining 'finished'. Like my walls now have pictures on them so they are 'finished' and I needn't worry about finishing the wall beyond the sheet rock.
So this is my 'free' time being spent on whatever I am in the mood to spend it on. Thankfully it has been quite productive lately. I
wish I could read and stencil at the same time. I suppose I could try audio books, but I guess that actually sounds extraordinarily geeky and I wouldn't confess to it anyway. School starts in less than a month and then I will have no free time and it will not matter one hoot what I think I want to be doing other than homework.(Fish tank update: nitrite levels are back to 'safe' - "Fishtanks are like zits - messing with 'em just makes 'em worse")
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
life unto myself
I was recently told by a friend that she couldn't see me married. She then went on to say that some people are so self-centered that they couldn't be married. I don't know if she meant this as negatively as it ended up sounding - I doubt it. There is something to what she said though. I no longer consider who I may please when I choose my outfits, or stay in shape, set my sleep or Friday night schedule. My life is more unto myself than it is easy for me to think about. My self-expression is just that - there are very few who notice the details of my existence. I know that there are many people who are in relationships who may still feel not noticed, but I think there is always the illusion/hope of being noticed by the someone that matters in your life. I can live unto God - but I'm pretty sure he is not concerned with what T-shirt I wear or if I am up till 1AM and then again at 7AM. I think He is also pretty flexible with mood swings and eccentricities in general. Thankfully I have Penelope Lane - she cares if I am expecting her to get up in the morning and will often completely refuse to get out of bed. (Luckily I am bigger than her.)
In my little self existence world, my photography has 'taken off'. I think some of my pictures are neat and I am glad that I have them to look at and share when I can. Granted, much of the art is the subject matter, but there is still something pretty in the pictures.
(It is argued among people who have digital cameras that taking pictures toward the sun is bad for the camera - so don't try this at home.)
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
shower crickets and cliches
The day was not off to a good start when after going to sleep at 1AM I woke this morning at quarter to 6. Laying there trying to go back to sleep I suddenly realized that I had not filled out my financial aid application for this school year. I was sure all deadlines had passed and I would be up a creek for assistance for (finally) my last year. I got up to check the FAFSA website and my fears were confirmed - the deadline was July 2nd. I was certainly not going to get any more sleep. Mom was up soonly and I sat and sobbed about my forthcoming financial hardships. I was suddenly convinced that my nearly 20-year-old car's transmission would go out as soon as it caught wind of my current situation. At 6:30 this morning the rising gas prices were a very big deal. I knew that with my heavy course load I would not be working much this fall and my life was surely slipping further into a financial abyss. It didn't matter that since I have saved money by living in the basement I would be able to pay for the school year - it only mattered that all was lost (and it wasn't yet 7AM). By the time I got to my shower to get ready for work, the cricket that I found in the tub was a lucky cricket that I did rescue it and put it outside rather than smash it and leave its smear as a warning to all the other crickets that inhabit the basement. It was when I got in the shower that I noticed that it had pooped all over the tub. By that time I figured if someone can rain on your parade; a cricket can shit on your shower.
The day improved. As it turns out, 6AM is not the ideal time for me to check dates for anything (or, apparently, cope with any difficult news) and the deadline is July 2, 2007. I will be allowed more student loans to add to my mounting debt after all. Perhaps it is all about lucky cricket karma and I ought not smash my nest egg before its laid. So, all's well that ends well and maybe my transmission will hang on for another 3 years.
Pictures keep coming in from the trip. I've decided that unfinished walls need not mean unpictured. If a picture's worth a thousand words, my basement finally has a lot to say.
The beach at Pangani
This picture is either titled 'mud' or 'beach patterns 03'. I don't suppose at that level of creativity it matters much which I call it.
The day improved. As it turns out, 6AM is not the ideal time for me to check dates for anything (or, apparently, cope with any difficult news) and the deadline is July 2, 2007. I will be allowed more student loans to add to my mounting debt after all. Perhaps it is all about lucky cricket karma and I ought not smash my nest egg before its laid. So, all's well that ends well and maybe my transmission will hang on for another 3 years.
Pictures keep coming in from the trip. I've decided that unfinished walls need not mean unpictured. If a picture's worth a thousand words, my basement finally has a lot to say.
The beach at Pangani
This picture is either titled 'mud' or 'beach patterns 03'. I don't suppose at that level of creativity it matters much which I call it.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
jungles in the basement
the little ironies of life
I didn't get rid of plants - I cleaned up. A lot. May (the surviving cockatiel) is happy in his jungle and has been singing constantly (or screeching depending on your point of view, or which end of the phone you are on).
The nitrate levels in my 30 gallon fish tank were high so I decided to do a 25% water change. Nitrate levels are not a 'good' thing, but not necessary a bad thing either. Nitrite, on-the-other-hand, is deadly. My nitrite levels were not registering on the test strip at all.
So I changed the water, added distilled water, and began to correct the pH.
The next morning with 2 dead fish, this is what my tank looks like now. Everytime I bring the pH back from acidic, the water gets cloudy. But this water also has nitrite levels that are registering beyond the levels of my test strip. I tested the water that I had added to the tank - nothing funny there. I think changing the pH makes the water cloudy because there is something that becomes less soluble at more neutral pH levels. That usually clears up with 'Clear Water' or a few days. But the nitrite levels are dangerous and may have already been the cause of the dimise of one Austrailian rainbow. (the survivor is in the upper right hand corner)
How on earth does nature take care of this stuff?! I can just see Mother Nature sitting out by the streams with her test kit and shaking her head at the water quality. She must have given up on Tainter Lake by now.
I get to take an Environmental Chemistry course this semester - maybe I can get my fish tank balanced by the end of it.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
For I know the plans I have for you
to prosper you
not to harm you
to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11
I had always taken this verse to be stated broadly to be inclusive for all who hear it -- now I wonder. Perhaps it is stated as God has His plans for us. He plans for good and hope -- the details are tossed about in the free will of humanity.
Because of free will (my own and that of others) - I have damaged lives, burned bridges, and lost friends. I don't think God's plan was in the first domino falling, so where could we go from there? God may not plan the specifics for my path (and its crossings with others) from here -- His plans are not to harm me. Perhaps then in this fallen world it would be completely impossible to step only in the steps that God may have planned for us, those paths are in Eden. Since the fall there has always been elements inherent with life on earth ready to knock us out of step. Perhaps God does not plan our next step but instead teaches us in his ways and then allows us to determine our footing. So then I cannot at this next fork in the road, choose 'incorrectly'. Whichever way I step God has promised to prosper me, not harm me, and to continue to give hope and a future.
In this apparent ambiguity is the hope of glory and the offering of peace that comes with knowing that come what may it will all work together for good.
This photo is taken from the top (I think) of an
inactive (I hoped) volcano in northern Tanzania. We had each put on all the clothes we had and we were laying about giggling (as quietly as possible because of the buffalo) and watching the sun go down. We laughed so we wouldn't cry and the large lumps of grass and the rocks beneath us became increasingly funny as we each found that there would be no comfortable position to sleep in. We had hiked to this side of a hill (perhaps the edge of the mouth of the volcano) to watch for the buffalo that would come to drink in the pond below us. I think we were supposed to be quiet for two reasons - both of them being buffalo. One - the buffalo might get scared away. Two - the buffalo might come and trample us. The hike had been strenuous and Sheryl (my sister) had had difficulty breathing from the very beginning of the four hour hike. She had rested frequently and at sunset was giggling with the rest of us at the long night ahead of us. When we had rearranged our day packs at the bottom of the 'hill' I had noticed my inhaler in the pocket of my backpack. At times my lungs seem to seize up in response to (rather unknown) environmental triggers and I cough and have problems getting oxygen. Sheryl had not needed an inhaler for her asthma for more than 10 years and had not brought one with her.
At about 11:30 at night she woke me (or I woke because of the large lump of grass that was in the middle of my back) not able to breathe. She had been struggling for a long time and was beginning to panic. She could take air in, but she was continuing to feel short of breath. She stated that she did not feel cold, but was shaking nearly convulsively. Shooting pains were going down her arms and she said it felt like there was a boa constrictor around her chest. I only knew that in the television commercial that once played for asthma attacks the little kids states that it feels like an elephant sitting on your chest and the TV picture was of a gulping goldfish. I figured that elephant sitting on you and boa constrictors were close enough to the same thing. Immediately I knew she was in trouble. It was the middle of the night, she had not been doing anything vigorous, and said that she had not been cold - so if nothing had brought the attack on - how were we going to stop it? I fished out my inhaler and told her that if it helped she could use it as often as necessary.
She did - about every fifteen minutes. The inhaler allowed her to get air in and the convulsions stopped, but she was not actually gaining control. Since she said that she had not felt cold I was not convinced the cold triggered it. I was terrified. There was no way to get her down the mountain in the dark and I did not know how much was in my inhaler. I had never used it every 10 to 15 minutes before. I knew that if she panicked there would be little chance to get her to get breathing under control. Praying I thought of the off chance that I had my inhaler with me - but I cried out to God that having it was not enough, she needed to be breathing - now.
We lay there whispering, each trying not to scare the other. We could hear the buffalo and I stated that they weren't buffalo, but frogs. She finally said that it was all she could do to keep from 'freaking out' and I went to get Steve. Steve is a doctor, but I didn't know what he would be able to do on top of a volcano with no supplies. He asked about allergies and if she was cold. In the end, he ended up sleeping next to her (she had been on the outside edge) and the increased warmth seemed enough to allow her to begin to breath normally. He said that she did use the inhaler two or three more times still at 15 minute intervals.
That night I felt more terror than I ever have before. The closest way to describe it would perhaps be that my heart caved in on itself and I began to lose hope. The next morning when we all woke up and Sheryl was still with me I have never felt so relieved. I was also grateful. Grateful that I had my inhaler (that I hadn't needed) and that I had seen where it was right before we left. I was also grateful that while God may have plans for us that are to provide a future and a hope, there are times that these plans are evidenced in minute happenings, chances, and coincidences. It was by chance that I had my inhaler with me and I am convinced that it was by that same chance that we still have Sheryl with us.
When I took this picture of Sheryl as we hiked down the next morning, my eyes teared and I thanked God for her standing in front me - beautiful and breathing.
not to harm you
to give you hope and a future.
Jeremiah 29:11
I had always taken this verse to be stated broadly to be inclusive for all who hear it -- now I wonder. Perhaps it is stated as God has His plans for us. He plans for good and hope -- the details are tossed about in the free will of humanity.
Because of free will (my own and that of others) - I have damaged lives, burned bridges, and lost friends. I don't think God's plan was in the first domino falling, so where could we go from there? God may not plan the specifics for my path (and its crossings with others) from here -- His plans are not to harm me. Perhaps then in this fallen world it would be completely impossible to step only in the steps that God may have planned for us, those paths are in Eden. Since the fall there has always been elements inherent with life on earth ready to knock us out of step. Perhaps God does not plan our next step but instead teaches us in his ways and then allows us to determine our footing. So then I cannot at this next fork in the road, choose 'incorrectly'. Whichever way I step God has promised to prosper me, not harm me, and to continue to give hope and a future.
In this apparent ambiguity is the hope of glory and the offering of peace that comes with knowing that come what may it will all work together for good.
This photo is taken from the top (I think) of an
inactive (I hoped) volcano in northern Tanzania. We had each put on all the clothes we had and we were laying about giggling (as quietly as possible because of the buffalo) and watching the sun go down. We laughed so we wouldn't cry and the large lumps of grass and the rocks beneath us became increasingly funny as we each found that there would be no comfortable position to sleep in. We had hiked to this side of a hill (perhaps the edge of the mouth of the volcano) to watch for the buffalo that would come to drink in the pond below us. I think we were supposed to be quiet for two reasons - both of them being buffalo. One - the buffalo might get scared away. Two - the buffalo might come and trample us. The hike had been strenuous and Sheryl (my sister) had had difficulty breathing from the very beginning of the four hour hike. She had rested frequently and at sunset was giggling with the rest of us at the long night ahead of us. When we had rearranged our day packs at the bottom of the 'hill' I had noticed my inhaler in the pocket of my backpack. At times my lungs seem to seize up in response to (rather unknown) environmental triggers and I cough and have problems getting oxygen. Sheryl had not needed an inhaler for her asthma for more than 10 years and had not brought one with her.At about 11:30 at night she woke me (or I woke because of the large lump of grass that was in the middle of my back) not able to breathe. She had been struggling for a long time and was beginning to panic. She could take air in, but she was continuing to feel short of breath. She stated that she did not feel cold, but was shaking nearly convulsively. Shooting pains were going down her arms and she said it felt like there was a boa constrictor around her chest. I only knew that in the television commercial that once played for asthma attacks the little kids states that it feels like an elephant sitting on your chest and the TV picture was of a gulping goldfish. I figured that elephant sitting on you and boa constrictors were close enough to the same thing. Immediately I knew she was in trouble. It was the middle of the night, she had not been doing anything vigorous, and said that she had not been cold - so if nothing had brought the attack on - how were we going to stop it? I fished out my inhaler and told her that if it helped she could use it as often as necessary.
She did - about every fifteen minutes. The inhaler allowed her to get air in and the convulsions stopped, but she was not actually gaining control. Since she said that she had not felt cold I was not convinced the cold triggered it. I was terrified. There was no way to get her down the mountain in the dark and I did not know how much was in my inhaler. I had never used it every 10 to 15 minutes before. I knew that if she panicked there would be little chance to get her to get breathing under control. Praying I thought of the off chance that I had my inhaler with me - but I cried out to God that having it was not enough, she needed to be breathing - now.
We lay there whispering, each trying not to scare the other. We could hear the buffalo and I stated that they weren't buffalo, but frogs. She finally said that it was all she could do to keep from 'freaking out' and I went to get Steve. Steve is a doctor, but I didn't know what he would be able to do on top of a volcano with no supplies. He asked about allergies and if she was cold. In the end, he ended up sleeping next to her (she had been on the outside edge) and the increased warmth seemed enough to allow her to begin to breath normally. He said that she did use the inhaler two or three more times still at 15 minute intervals.
That night I felt more terror than I ever have before. The closest way to describe it would perhaps be that my heart caved in on itself and I began to lose hope. The next morning when we all woke up and Sheryl was still with me I have never felt so relieved. I was also grateful. Grateful that I had my inhaler (that I hadn't needed) and that I had seen where it was right before we left. I was also grateful that while God may have plans for us that are to provide a future and a hope, there are times that these plans are evidenced in minute happenings, chances, and coincidences. It was by chance that I had my inhaler with me and I am convinced that it was by that same chance that we still have Sheryl with us.
When I took this picture of Sheryl as we hiked down the next morning, my eyes teared and I thanked God for her standing in front me - beautiful and breathing.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
