Gideon's Fleece

The Boys of Fall

2010-08-16T20:42:00.000-05:00

Kevin took Gideon with him to music practice at church tonight. I had intended to go swim laps - since I'm still only running every other day. But the pool had closed while Gideon and I were still there due to thunder and storms moving into the area. So I did laundry and cooked dinner. I briefly turned on GAC on the telly and Kenny Chesney's "Boys of Fall" was playing. The first time I had seen it I was surprised at how much footage they had of the Celina Bobcats, even a shot of FM 455, the road that connected Anna where I taught and coached with Celina, a perennial small school football powerhouse. Anna would have been no match for their football team, but still had a faithful following in the stands on Friday nights. It reminded me of bus rides through the rural Texas countryside, driving my cross country team to various meets in rural fields or around school playing fields; or to track meets in tiny windsept towns, my own version of the boys of fall.

I hadn't had a good experience coaching boys before coming to Anna. I thought of myself as a girls coach only, though I had coached some really great boys especially during track season in South Carolina. Even with my girls, I was young, and foolish, and only the last year do I really feel like I did a decent job. That was the year Kevin and I were newlyweds, and he taught me how to involve my parents.

So when we moved to Texas, I assumed surely God wanted me to continue to coach cross country. The only job that offered me that opportunity was in tiny Anna, where I would teach 8th grade math and coach cross country at the high school, on top of a full middle school coaching assignment - volleyball, basketball and track - the latter being the only thing I knew anything about. "Oh, the varsity coaches will help you," my AD assured me. How that panned out is a story for another day. But there were my boys, on the first day of practice. I wasn't even supposed to have a team; everyone with a modicum of athletic ability was supposed to be out for football. Little M, a tiny tiny freshman, with his dad ready to click his watch and do his own workout while M practiced. "You're welcome to join us," I told him, and he became a de facto assistant, always cheerful and ready to inject some humor, direct traffic while we ran hill repeats, run water out on a long run. M's mom passed her jogging stroller on to me when I had Gideon. There was small, muscular, injury prone P, with an attitude to match his stature - but always the gentleman to his teammates and to me. Grumpy, sleep-deprived M whose little sister J. was the only member of the girls team willing to do any work. M. ran over a skunk sometime during that first year and after that we could always tell when he was getting to practice. Quirky R., the second of 10 children, no stranger to work, who along with P. was the greatest loss to the football team, kept us laughing with his sense of humor and hilarious antics after practice was over. Long-legged farm boy L, who had been up at 4:30 to take care of his show lambs before coming to morning practice - raised by his single school teacher mom, and the last of four children; he cobbled together enough nickel and dime scholarships his senior year to amount to $7,000 and pay for two years at the community college. L. had no inkling of his nascent talent - the second year he passed our top runner in the last mile of the district championship and looked at me, "coach, what do I do?" He was the only one who hadn't seen it coming. And serious W. - the only one who knew anything about running - he along with grumpy M. were the only returning runners. W. was the cornerstone of my team. His dad had gotten him into running, and though his dad no longer ran due to the health complications (including the type I diabetes he shared with his son - I carried honey packets in my supplies in case he ever needed them - and had to get used to him injecting himself on the team bus) was a staunch and vocal supporter, eagerly opening his home when I wanted to do a parents night / preseason party. Even the morning Wade was blindsided by the mirror of the dump truck and taken on a backboard by ambulance to the hospital in the predawn darkness, his dad was calm and collected. W. ended up being fine, only badly bruised, but his parents extended me so much grace during the aftermath of that incident.

My boys of fall battled accidents, injuries, sleep-deprivation due to our early morning practices, running in the dark, running in the heat of early fall in north Texas, long trips on the minibus every Saturday morning, an athletic department that wished their team didn't even exist ... I was privileged to share two years of life with them.

Yesterday afternoon I received a facebook message from L's mom. W's dad had passed away Saturday morning from a massive heart attack. I sat at my computer battling tears thinking of how much grace his family had extended to me after W's accident, that could have easily ended his life. How his dad knew his life would not be long because of his health, but would live each of those days to the full. How some of W's running was trying to outrun those health issues that had slowed his dad. Of the precious days of life spent with my boys of fall.

Counting (some of) our blessings in 2009

2009-12-31T19:57:00.000-06:00

Wow, yeah - what a year.

Little goose has just thrived this year. His eczema vanished in January. I was keeping track on my calendar of when we had to apply the cortisone cream - it seems his flares were under his butt cheeks and it just drove him nuts. Some days he would scratch rather than play and we had periods where we were counting the days until we could use the cortisone again. But now, it's gone. He has beautiful skin. He's rarely itchy. I'm so thankful.

He can eat eggs again. For a while they flared his eczema, so we strictly avoided for a year. Apparently it wasn't a "true allergy" but now he can eat them without getting itchy. I'm so thankful as I've been able to bake so many yummy things... egg replacer can only go so far especially when we are baking gf too.

And he weaned himself. At the very beginning of September. He just stopped asking. I have fond memories of him shouting "ready for boobies!" as he ran from his shower and dived into our bed, but this is what I wanted -- easy and natural and when he was ready.

I've been amazed, at the difference in my physical and mental well-being since he weaned himself. I had a rough month in October, but since then my sleeping has improved. I even slept one eight hour night for the first time in 4 years! Though that hasn't become routine (or even happened again) the quality of sleep seems to have improved. I've been able to run more -- several runs in the range of 12-14 miles and one rocking 15 mile run in 2 hours, pushing the stroller, just 2 weeks ago. I even started running hills again in the summer. I feel like I'm finally getting fit. A year ago I was doing a 10 mile run maybe - once every six months? My mental stability seems better too.

Goose and I started doing "school" in late August. He knew all his phonics from playing starfall.com and could read some words. So we got out the McGuffey's readers (my mom passed them to me - I remember standing at her knee doing my reading when I was just his age), a couple of Kumon workbooks, and went to town. He's almost done with the primer and we'll start the first grade reader in just a couple of weeks. He reads signs, and will occasionally tackle a book (though only if I'm not watching him - he's not confident enough to read to me except during "school") A couple of times he has taken a book in the car and read to me while I'm driving. I love it!!

Our house in North Texas finally sold Oct 31 after being on the market 17 1/2 months and vacant for 14. We are soooo thankful not to be writing two checks each month, and excited to shop for a home here. I am amazed and thankful we always had enough money for both houses, and even still hosted Sunday lunches.

Gideon's doing gymnastics once a week. He really loves his teacher (who I think is amazing with a class of little 3 - 4 year old boys) and has gotten braver physically. I have a child who jumps of the furniture now. Craaaaazy.

I love Kevin more this year than I ever have. I am so thankful that God brought us out from the hard years after Gideon was born (though had life never gotten better, God would still have been good to us). I'm so thankful God brought him here where we live close by to work and daddy comes home not exhausted from commuting. We've actually gone on 3 dates, and we actually want to go on dates again. I'm thankful for God preserving and restoring our marriage. And I'm thankful Gideon likes his babysitters and looks forward to it too. Who knew my screaming baby would one day elicit comments like, "He's so easy!"

We enjoyed the summer of many weddings, and got to catch up with some sweet friends from several seasons of live. At Liz and Chris' wedding in Nashville, we caught up with folks from Clemson days. At Jen & Eric's wedding in Connecticut, we caught up with some sweet friends from my childhood in Murrysville. At Thomas & Jill's wedding in Dallas, we caught up with friends from RPC in McKinney. Finally at Dan & Lesley's wedding here, we were reminded that God has planted us in a new church family here, and that we are richly blessed in this new season of life.

Here's to life in 2010!

The Parable of the Lost Coin

2009-10-20T20:17:00.003-05:00

Our pastor has been preaching through the parables of Jesus, and this Sunday came to the parable of the lost sheep and the parable of the lost coin from Luke chapter 15 :

"Or suppose a woman has 10 silver coins and loses one. Does she not light a lamp, sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents." Luke 15:8-10 NIV

Soon after we were married I had an experience that really brought home the meaning of this parable. We had been married for just a few months when one day after lunch I went to the restroom, and after I threw away my paper towel I noticed I had only my wedding ring - my beautiful diamond that Kevin had chosen and the ring he had designed on a grad student's salary - gone! In a panic I went back to the teachers I ate lunch with. We scoured the room where we ate lunch but found nothing. I looked in the bathroom - nothing. I tried to teach that afternoon but was so distracted - my fourth period scoured my classroom - nothing. I emailed Kevin in a panic, what to do?

That afternoon at the very end of the day I opened my file drawer, and there, hanging on the corner of one of the file folders, was my ring. Somehow it had slipped off when I filed papers that morning, and by the grace of God it hadn't fallen into the depths of the drawer where I would have never found it, but was still there on the top.

If that wasn't amazing enough, when I was still in a panic, sweet Miss Rachel, the afternoon custodian who let Kevin in the back door every evening when he came to pick me up, took the trash from the girls bathroom and went through every last piece of trash, searching for my ring. How amazing that someone would love me that much, to search through a bag of garbage - for me!

Solo on sweet sixteen

2009-02-04T15:22:00.002-06:00

My dad has a lifelong fascination with flying. When Kevin and I were dating, I felt like it gave me "future father-in-law" righteousness. And in fact, when we did get engaged, my dad promised Kevin that if we stayed south of the Mason-Dixon line he would teach Kevin to fly someday for only the cost of the airplane rental and fuel. (Another reason to be glad we got that thin letter from North Dakota!!)

In the spring of 2002 Kevin did get one impromptu lesson. Kevin had already moved to Dallas, and I was finishing seven more weeks of the school year in South Carolina before I could join him. Both Kevin and my dad came to South Carolina the same weekend, and when it was time for Kevin to fly back to Dallas out of Charlotte, my dad offered to fly him there. So we pile into the Cessna and fly from the Oconee County airport to Charlotte general aviation, and Kevin flies most of it except the take off and landing. He has yet to have his second lesson, but now that we live 10 minutes from Easterwood airport, we are putting that on our list of "things to save up for after we sell the VA house."

So Saturday morning we are on our way to Lake Bryan, driving on Harvey Mitchell past Easterwood airport. Gideon sees a little twin engine plane outside the window and gets very excited. I tell Kevin that my dad's dream when my sister and I were babies was that we would grow up around airplanes and learn to fly before we could drive. But the demons my mom fought took us away from our dad, and the first time I was ever even in an airplane was in the summer of 1994, flying across PA with my dad after my summer REU at Lafayette ended, shouting over the noise of the engine. But perhaps one day my dad could teach his only grandson to fly.

Later in our weekly phone conversation with my dad, I mention this to him. When can Gideon learn to fly? Oh he says, there is no minimum age for learning, but you can't solo until your 16th birthday. I've only ever soloed one person on their sixteenth birthday, he says. You should have Gideon come and spend a summer with me when he's old enough. Then he tells me a story about the son of some friends who grew up around airplanes, learning to fly (without the foot pedals, of course) almost as soon as he could walk, and soloed SIX different airplanes on his sixteenth birthday.

I'll take one. My wish takes on more specificity. Gideon will turn 16 in December of 2021. My dad will have just turned 81. If he could solo his grandson -- this, I think, would redeem the years the locusts have eaten.

Behind a frowning providence ...

2009-01-22T22:33:00.003-06:00

The summer I was engaged to Kevin, Liz organized a group of girls from Clemson Pres to go hear John Piper speak on the book of Ruth. It was a weekend at the Cove, a beautiful retreat center in the mountains of North Carolina, and the teaching and fellowship were fabulous. (In fact, in the last 18 months I've been involved in two more Bible studies focusing on the book of Ruth, so at some point I should probably consider why God has led me to that book so often.) From Piper's teaching I remember clearly one quote "Behind a frowning providence he hides a smiling face." Our bleakest circumstances will turn out to reveal as well our richest blessings.

Today I looked up the source for this quote : it is a hymn by William Cowper called God Moves in a Mysterious Way:

God moves in a mysterious way

His wonders to perform;

He plants His footsteps in the sea

And rides upon the storm.

Deep in the unfathomable mines

of never-failing skill

He treasures up His bright designs

And works His sovereign will.

Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;

The clouds you so much dread

Are big with mercy and shall break

In blessings on your head.

Judge not the Lord by feeble sense,

But trust Him for His grace;

Behind a frowning providence

He hides a smiling face.

His purposes will ripen fast,

Unfolding every hour;

The bud may have a bitter taste,

But sweet will be the flower.

Blind unbelief is sure to err

And scan His work in vain;

God is His own interpreter,

And He will make it plain.

So one example of how I have found this true - probably the first time I really "got it":

It is the '98-'99 school year, my second year of teaching. I am resenting the long hours, having to get up and run in the dark to run at all, my life being sucked dry (in my mind) by the responsibilities of life. In February I get the flu. I take one day off but feel like I must be at work (so hard to prep for a sub anyway). By Friday I can only stand to teach the first 45 minutes of each class - the second half I sit with my head down in the back of the room while my students pretend to do seat work. I go to the urgent care, they say I have bronchitis (which has become nearly an annual ritual, starting in 1993) I take my meds, and go home. By Sunday I cannot even stand up without my fever spiking. I am coughing so hard I feel like I've pulled a muscle or cracked a rib. I call my friend who teaches next door to me. "You have to see a real doctor" she says. "My doctor has a young partner who should be seeing new patients." I call Monday morning and they give me a Tuesday appt. "Call them back," she says. "You need to see someone TODAY." They take pity on me and work me in. I am sent off for X-rays and return to find I have pneumonia. One lung is full and the other is working on it. I spend $100 on my prescriptions and the rest of the week in bed.

My faithful friend picks up my lesson plans every morning before school and brings me my sub notes every afternoon. I muddle through prepping something for my students. A walk down the two flights of stairs exhausts me so much I have to take a 2 hour nap. Slowly the coughing subsides, the fever breaks. I return to the doctor who sends me for another x-ray and prescribes another 7 days of antibiotics. Eventually I will go for a CT scan to see if my lungs are clear. "Work half days" he tells me. So I go to school at 7:45 (rather than 6 something) and come home at 3:30 - leaving my coaching in the hands of the boys head coach and my capable seniors. I sit behind my overhead and lecture - which is what most of the other math teachers do, but completely different from my usual energetic style. My students are remarkably good, and take pity on me. I am just so thankful to be able to go to work, and to work all day.

After a month I try to run, which turns on a fountain of yellow snot which runs for two weeks. Several times during each period I have to excuse myself to blow my nose. I think it must be all the gunk that was in my lungs. I go through cases of kleenex. When I return to track practice, I wear layers and layers and stand with my stopwatch. By the end of the season I am thankful to be able to jog warmup and cooldown with my kids.

Sometime in April I am able to start running again. And I put the overhead away and go back to lecturing at the chalkboard. It is now a precious gift to run my lonely miles in the dark before school. I am so thankful for the energy to work all day. My attitude is completely different.

By the end of the year, I count having pneumonia as the blessing of the year. I would not have chosen it. I still would not have chosen it. But certainly those clouds were "big with mercy and broke with blessings on my head."

more thoughts on the crash

2009-01-18T15:55:00.002-06:00

My dad is a man of much wisdom and many interests, of which he can speak at length and with great insight. Being interested in flying (he has been flying for over 40 years and instructed for many of those years) and fascinated as well by military history (one wall in his living room, at least, is covered by books on that topic alone) I knew he would have some insight into the blackhawk helicopter crash last week.

"Reading the statements of people who observed it, the accident is consistent with a tail rotor failure at an airspeed/altitude combination where autorotation was not possible. Normally, an attempt is made to avoid these combinations (called a 'height velocity diagram') but that doesn't always happen.

"Typically, at a forward speed more than about 40 knots, if only the tail rotor drive mechanism fails, the helicopter can be flown under power and landed. At a lower speed, autorotation is the only option, but at these lower speeds altitude has to be lost to establish the autorotation."

And of course, there was no altitude left to be lost.

Gideon, of course, is still thinking things through in his own way. We drive by this field nearly daily if not more often, and today on the way to church he wants to know where the chop-chop went (although we saw the flat bed that took it away) and why there is dirt dug up on the field. And then to our dinner guests today he explained the crash : "Chop chop come down and the people broken and the chop chop broken and it crash and now there is dirt and they take it away." He is very interested in making sure everyone knows what happened and continued to explain quite loudly for a few minutes, finally distracted by pecans and mandarin orange slices in the salad.

Blackhawk Down

2009-01-12T21:40:00.002-06:00

My dad describes flying as "hours of boredom, punctuated by moments of sheer terror." A year or two ago he told me about a near miss he had while flying out of the Butler County airport. He had taken the plane for a test flight, and something failed just after takeoff. He was able to make a harrowing, but safe, emergency landing - but with enough damage to the airplane that the FAA had to investigate. As he described it to me, I was glad I did not know until afterwards.

A while ago he sent me a video, taken at an air show. In his description he describes the amazing ability of the pilot who landed safely, so I knew the outcome while watching, but I still sit at my computer sobbing. The airplane loses a wing mid-flight and spirals out of control. In the background you can hear the shouts of the onlookers (somewhat like those first news reports we watched during 2nd period on 9/11, shocked motionless in our desks, my seniors on the brink of a world about to change). The plane plummets towards the ground, sometimes upside down, sometimes sideways, and at the last minute flips upright, and lands, completely safely, on the grass beside the runway.

My dad tells another story, about a student he taught to fly maybe 20 or 30 years ago. Brad takes his mom for one of his first solo flights. The plane has a mechanical problem, forcing an emergency landing on a golf course in Pittsburgh. Brad executes beautifully, over one set of electrical wires, under another - setting the plane down on the golf course. It is too late that he sees a green construction fence that he cannot avoid. The plane bursts into flames and he escapes, burned over much of his body, and has to be held back from going back for his mom who dies unable to escape the plane and the flames. My dad is still emotional telling the story so many years later.

This morning, Gideon and I are in the play room, changing out of his night clothes. I have one leg in his underwear when we hear the familiar "chop-chop" of helicopters flying low over the neighborhood. There is a military test field not far from College Station, so this is not that unusual. We rush out, me with Gideon in arms, his underwear waving like a flag around one naked ankle, to see four blackhawk helicopters flying low towards campus. We are very excited. "Where are they going, mommy?" he asks, as I insert his legs into his pants. "Are they going to the airport?" We eat breakfast, the helicopters forgotten, and climb into the jogging stroller for our run, today to scare the ducks on west campus (a ploy I use to get him not to insist we go around the golf course, which we did nearly every day last week). At the corner of George Bush we discover where the helicopters went - there they are in the field, surrounded by groups of cadets getting ready for training flights. As we head towards west campus, we see the helicopters again, in a line heading off somewhere. We speculate where they might be going.

I think about being 20 years old, a perfect January day, crisp and 50 degrees, the sky clear. I remember the groups of young men we see training in Spence park, their commander having them stand respectfully back while my little three year old gets a drink from the fountain. I remember a day before Christmas, running on west campus, heading back down towards Wellborn road, a group runs towards us on the sidewalk. A word from their commander and they spill off the sides of the sidewalk in the path of our stroller. "Howdy ma'am" coming from each side as we run through.

On the way back home we notice the groups of cadets are still there on the field, and at home in our driveway the blackhawks are back overhead, "chop-chop" only this time we don't need to speculate where they are going. "Maybe later we can go back down and see them take off," I tell Gideon. He chooses instead to read books and play Starfall. I think maybe that's good - aren't those helicopters a little dangerous? but the flights continue, our house vibrating a bit when they fly over.

I put him to nap, sit at the kitchen table with the minutae of life I must accomplish today. Make an appointment with a local allergist, call my mom and find out if the assisted living is actually giving her a bath frequently like they are supposed to. Mid afternoon it registers that there are a bunch of sirens, but I dismiss them. It is not uncommon now that we live in the city.

Gideon wakes up and we get dressed to walk to the student center to pick up the mail from our post office box. We hold hands down the street, looking at the neighbors pigs, speculating where the guinea hens are as we can hear their loud clucking. We run through the pedestrian passage, and I see flashing police lights. "Let's go see," I say to Gideon, knowing his love of emergency vehicles. We run to the crossing at George Bush, noticing that the police are blocking off the road, and notice alot of fire trucks. Then I see it, crumpled like a broken bird in the middle of the field, the crashed helicopter. "No," I say to Gideon, as I crouch down and take him in my arms, "that didn't happen." But it did, and the broken chop-chop is being surrounded by police tape, the ambulances gone, the fire trucks finishing their work. I cry. Gideon, sensing the change in my demeanor, looks for an explanation. I think about the fresh faced young men, wondering how the clear blue sky turned into broken wreckage. I think you worry about losing your life in the military when you go to Afghanistan or Iraq, not on a clear day in January on your college campus during winter break.

Gideon doesn't object as I carry him in my arms, past all the onlookers and the local news crew, into the park. He asks very few questions. I call Kevin, he's heard nothing, but calls me back to say that a mechanical malfunction sent the chopper to the ground with 5 crew members aboard. The cadets apparently managed to escape the flying debris unscathed, but we hear on the news later that one crew member is dead. As we walk through the park we hear more helicpoters. Like mosquitos, the news media is gathering. I am strangely appalled, like their presence is a violation of sacred ground.

At home after dinner, Gideon is in his playroom. He has extracted his wooden helicopter from his playbox. He has his little man on the floor. His helicopter lands on top of the little man. "Chop chop broken and little man broken," he explains, noticing me watching. "Ambulance come." And one by one his emergency vehicles surround the scene - the ambulance first, then the fire truck, then the police car.

From the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks

2009-01-04T14:37:00.007-06:00

Kevin was involved with Campus Crusade for many years - at PSU, at Temple, and at Clemson. We are able to support the campus minister at Clemson and each month receive a magazine called Worldwide Challenge which is perhaps the most beneficial periodical I've ever seen. (although I do enjoy a good afternoon with Running Times :) ) It (WC, not RT!) never fails to convict and confront some area of my life (or, to deliver what often feels like a sucker punch to the gut.)

So this month tucked in the back is the familiar confrontation with the sin still lodged so firmly in my heart :

"...as a Christian, I sometimes act surprised by my response to difficult life events. ... I lose my temper, judge someone wrongly, complain about my circumstances, spilling the spiritual equivalent of a sticky mess everywhere.

Circumstances can't be blamed; they just stir up what was already there and make it obvious to everyone else. It's not my child's fault that I got angry or my boss' fault that I complained. My response is all mine.

The Bible calls it sin. and it reveals -- again -- my ongoing need for a Savior. That's exactly why Jesus died."

I cannot blame my mother, or the questionable circumstances of the home she created in our youth, for the disrespectful and contemptuous way I often treat her now. I cannot blame Gideon's incessant questions or my lingering insomnia for the way I often shout at him when he is just being a boy (or engaging in developmentally appropriate behavior, as I tell Kevin). I cannot blame Gideon's clinging for my resentful response and rudeness to whatever group we hoped to socialize with. It is the ugliness of my own heart that gets squeezed out. I am the one who is disrespectful of my parents, selfish, self-seeking, narcissistic. And God in his mercy allows circumstances to squeeze me, that I might not go on blindly in my self-righteousness, thinking I am not much of a sinner.

Lord, let me see You as the remedy. May I face my sin, and run to You - and find mercy, grace, forgiveness, a new heart, that shows more and more of You, and less of me.

Kevin's new year challenge

2009-01-03T19:19:00.002-06:00

"You should get rid of your to-do list," says my sweet man in late December. I think about how much a slave I am to that thing. "Think about how much time you spend copying over that list every night," he says. Think about all the anxiety I have sometimes about the things I haven't gotten done, I think. "Okay, I'll do it." I tell him. So that's the challenge - to live without my to do list at least until the end of January. So Wednesday night after Gideon goes to bed, we RIP IT UP, and THROW IT AWAY! For some reason as much as I've anticipated the freedom of that moment, I find it difficult to do. Can I REALLY live without my ball and chain (oops, I mean, my brain on paper) for a whole month? What if I forget something important?

Well, now we are on day 3 and the world hasn't ended, nor have I forgotten anything important, I don't think. And somehow there's a bit of delicious freedom when I have a bit of free time - I don't have to consult the list but instead can think about what I really want to do. Like blogging. Before Dec 31 I would have been using this time to copy my list!

Another unexpected benefit - I'm quicker to try to catch up on things because I'm afraid without the list I will forget. For example, thankyou notes for Christmas have gotten written within a day or two instead of being copied over from day to day using up as much time as it would have taken to just write the dumb thing.

I'm excited to see what other benefits our grand experience will bring. Vive le 2009!!

Remembering 2008

2009-01-02T20:08:00.002-06:00

January - I feel like I am getting a handle on the thyroid issues. I finally quit keeping the food diary, and felt like I was running a LITTLE bit more. I wrote Carolyn in January that I had a week of 24 miles! What a celebration after having so many months of walking slowly to the end of Cold Springs Rd and back - and wondering if I would ever be able to run again.

February - Gideon and I upset the stroller running on Cold Springs Rd. I fell, the stroller hits the end of the tether and flips. Gideon is silent, then screaming. I am so thankful there are no cars on that road as he ends up in the middle. He is road burned all up the left side of his face, the enamel is sheered off of one front tooth, blood is pouring from his mouth. I'm frantically calling Kevin, and who should appear over the hill but Mr. Dave, my neighbor who I see walking maybe once a month, who "just happened" along at that moment. I call the ped who tells me to go to the emergency room. Mr. Dave gets me ice at his house, and Gideon and I walk fast the 1.5 miles home (I'm too scared to run). Mr. Dave follows to make sure we are all right. Gideon screams all the way. At home he is very brave, pees in the potty and then even laughs and points out the gravel train on the 30 minute drive to the hospital, where Kevin meets us. We have vitals taken and sit. for hours. Which is good because it means Gideon is not that badly hurt. Our wonderful ped. calls us after we've been there for a couple of hours, and then tells us to come over to her building and examines Gideon in the hall after hours (the building is even locked and she has to let us in). She tells us to go home and wake him up every two hours and check his pupils and responses. I am never so glad to wake up so often! A couple of times he refuses to open his eyes so we make him count to five. Other than some scrapes he is unscathed. Thank God! I even manage to be able to sleep in bed with Kevin for a week or so after that. And after a couple of days Gideon and I are both brave enough to try to run again, though for a while he cautions me "No fall down, mommy!" He is braver than I.

March - Kevin goes for a lunch meeting with his two bosses for his annual review. He comes home and says they spend 5 minutes talking to him about his promotion and his review, and the next TWO HOURS talking to him about taking over the disease clinic in CS. I'm not too surprised, as God has prepared me for this. He spends about a month deliberating, but I know that day that we are leaving. Also, the first week of March, we get our FIRST snow of the season, TWICE in one week, and several inches each time! It even happens while Kevin's parents are visiting. We have a blast playing in it, though our daffodils (which had already bloomed) never recover.

April is a mix of good and bad. Gideon has a babysitter from church whom he really likes. She watches him two afternoons while I go running, doing a nearly 10 mile run once. (It will be 6 months before I do it again) He really adores her and they have lots of fun. Of course, we move away in the summer so are still searching for that special babysitter. We have alot of inertia but that's another story. Early in the month we take a drive to CS, to "see if it is somewhere we could live." Kevin's boss takes us to dinner. Gideon has to pee multiple times during the meal (I find out later the urinals have a mirror behind them) and every time they disappear I am told how wonderful a place CS is to raise a family. I was not prepared to be romanced to the job as well! At the end of the month things take a turn for the worse when my endo raises the dose on the Armour he had switched me to in mid Feb, and I revisit thyroid hell. The doctor is gone for two weeks when this happens so I finally switch back to Synthroid at the end of the month. It will be a few more months before I feel like myself again.

In May we frantically prep the house for sale as Kevin has given his "official" decision. We want it on the market before we leave mid-month for PA, hoping that it might sell during the 10 days we are gone. We do get it ready to sell (after many trips to store our extra stuff in storage, and much baby stuff donated to the pregnancy center) but it doesn't sell. It still hasn't sold. But God has provided. We have a nice visit with Kevin's folks and also get to see my dad and mom. Unfortunately Kevin's family sees the ugly of thyroid imbalance as three weeks is nowhere near enough time to reach stable levels ... It's a hard trip too. Gideon gets to play alot with his two cousins (ring around the rosy is a favorite) and loves Akong teaching him how to ride the mini ATV.

At home in June I try to get in shape again, and we hope the house will sell and we can move to CS early. Neither goes really well. I'll spend most of the summer working up to 5 miles and then having a week or two break, and then trying again. But, I am glad to run. The house is shown several times, and we learn how much we like a clean, uncluttered house. The thyroid begins to stabilize.

In early July we make a trip to CS to find a place to live. We have been told we will have a hard time renting a house, as it is so late in the summer and students will have snatched them up. But again, God provides, and we find a cute house near campus with - a garage, for all that stuff from storage; covered parking; two living areas - a den off the kitchen for a playroom; all hard floors (mostly wood); and best of all, 2.2 miles door to door for Kevin. And it is within the budget. Amazing. At the end of the month we all take a fun trip to Kevin's annual meeting, this year in Minneapolis. We have a fun time while Kevin is at the meeting, and even more fun when it's over taking a 3 day trip to Duluth. We had been there five years ago for Grandma's marathon, but this time had a lot of fun exploring the city - harbor cruise, aquarium, north shore train ride, and letting Gideon see new stuff. His favorite thing was going in the frigid water of Lake Superior. The first day he went in further and further, and I kept taking soggy clothes off of him until he was left in his little underwear. "How I can't take my underwear off, mommy?" he asks as he tries to pull me into the frigid water too. We are glad for the spare set of clothes in the diaper bag!! We have a great time - the first fun family vacation since Gideon is born.

In August we get ready for the big move ... Somehow it is not too hard to leave. Thyroid hell left me with only a few close friends, although those are very precious. The last night we spend in our house I sleep on the couch (my usual place) and hear crunching in the kitchen. Kevin tells me later that it is a mouse as he puts poison and a couple of weeks later finds it chewed up. I take it as a sign from God that it is time to leave, remembering the mice and the snake that greeted us in 2002. Gideon does well with the move, and tired but weary we arrive in CS. Within a week or two I feel I am functioning okay, loving that I only drive 5 minutes to the grocery (instead of 30), and loving all the wide, jogging-stroller friendly sidewalks. Gideon and I explore many places and I finally make progress, getting in a couple of 6 mile runs and progressing toward longer ones. Kevin gets his bike fixed up, joins the rec center, and within short order loses 5 pounds.

In September Kevin starts officially his new position. He is busy and travels away a week at the end of the month. Originally I had planned to go back to VA that week, but am already feeling at home in CS. The trip goes well. I join a Bible Study for "young moms" but am (not surprisingly) one of the oldest there. We begin to meet folks at church. Who knows if any will be those close precious friendships ... only time and life will tell. Gideon and I attend story hour where Gideon enjoys the songs from Miss Debbie. I fight comparing it to Miss Barbara and the VA library and begin to enjoy it too. It becomes part of our weekly routine.

In October we get a few cool days. In fact, on my birthday I run over 9 miles, and then at the end of the month finally hit 10 again. I immediately get sick and can't exercise for 12 days!! Kevin is sick too. Gideon gets sick for one day and throws up once (we just have cough, aches, congestion) and then is back to full tilt the next day. Kevin goes to NC for a meeting and gets to spend a day in Clemson where he gets Gideon a new pair of overalls. We all wear our overalls for the church's "Reformation Day" celebration. What a sight we are! Gideon also goes (unexpectedly, I hadn't planned anything) to another Halloween party and I improvise a costume for him - a cape out of a red blanket, and his red bandana "pirate hat". He is "Super GiGi!"

In November, we get to host the best Thanksgiving dinner ever. A few folks from church, several international friends from CS, a friend from Tyler, and a group of visiting scholars from many countries. I enjoy serving several gfcfefpf dishes to which no one is the wiser. Thanksgiving also marks one year gf for me, as right before Thanksgiving 2007 I decided to try it (it made cooking very easy that year as I just didn't do any baking - we had baked potatoes and rice) This year I am more prepared.

In December Gideon celebrates his third birthday! I celebrate a year of enjoying my child. We do many seasonal things - see the BCS Christmas parade (which gets re-enacted the morning of Gideon's birthday when he gets to open his new fire truck, and then decides to line up all his vehicles. "Look mommy, a parade!") We set up the Christmas tree, wrap gifts, try to keep secrets from Daddy (and apparently from mommy as well) and then right after I get my annual haircut on 12/23 (for the Christmas eve service) Gideon gets sick and runs a fever until the Sunday after. We postpone our trip to VA to check the house - but when we do go it is wonderful. Gideon and I sleep until 9AM! He successfully spends the night in his airbed, though he does move from his old room where he wanted to sleep to beside us at 4:30AM when his covers come off and he hollers for us. We visit with our neighbors, do a few tasks around the house, remember how much work Kevin did to make it so nice, and then drive back to our new home.

Thank you God, for your great blessings to our family this year. May I remember that You have always cared for us through good times and hard times. Help me to trust You through whatever You bring this year.

Phillipians 1:12

2008-12-22T14:39:00.003-06:00

"Now I want you to know, brothers, that what has happened to me has really served to advance the gospel."

So Paul states to his Philippian friend while chained under house arrest in Rome. Is this my attitude when faced with difficult circumstances? Would that this be my heart's desire as I face those times!!

Could God use the bad family circumstances I grew up in to advance the gospel?

Could He use our struggles with health and marriage over the last three years to advance the gospel?

Could He use even me who is so uncertain and insecure to advance the gospel?

Oh the grace of God, that he would use even a cracked and broken pot to show the riches of his mercy and grace to others, that what He lovingly pours in would spill out through those cracks to bless many. Lord, give me eyes to see how you are doing this.

Brrrr.....

2008-12-17T16:29:00.002-06:00

Well, who knew. It DOES get cold in College Station. We were beginning to wonder when we still hadn't closed the windows well into late October, but in the last week we have had snow and a light freeze - which should have taken care of the mosquito activity which continued until mid November. Tomorrow, of course, it is supposed to be in the 70's.

A couple of nights ago we watched the weather on the news ... in Minot, ND it was -8 degrees. A couple of months ago I sat on the back porch talking to my sister enjoying 85 degree "fall" weather, while she had significant snow and 17 degrees in Montana. Kevin and I commented again how glad we were that his application for a sugar beet position in South Dakota 7 years ago resulted in a thin rejection letter. As hard as it was to come to Texas, I'm really glad to not be in the frozen north.

I've ALWAYS hated cold. Through 21 years of living through Pennsylvania winters (several of them without heat or hot water) I vowed I would move south as soon as I had a chance. And sure enough, within three months of graduating from college, I was in Clemson ... laughing in December when people were STILL MOWING THEIR LAWNS, and not even needing my running tights until February. I did acclimate quickly, and this morning I was in tights despite mid 40 temps while I pushed Gideon on our daily run. 20 years ago mid 40's would have been shorts and a t-shirt - maybe with gloves and a hat. As we were jogging around the park we met another lady clad exactly like that - wearing a Kansas State t-shirt. I told myself this must be her first winter in the south and by next year she would be a wimp like the rest of us.

How thankful I am that even for the brief periods of cold we have here that we can heat our home, bathe in hot water, and dress in clean warm dry clothing!

Happy 3rd Birthday, Gideon

2008-12-09T21:28:00.002-06:00

When I created this blog, over a year ago, I didn't think it would take me over a year to post anything on it. What a year - three years - it has been!

The day we brought Gideon home from the hospital, we looked at each other and I said to Kevin, "now we are going to get old." I meant that our lives would so be caught up with Gideon's that years would pass, and by the time we get a chance to catch our breath again he would be grown and gone and we would be in our 50's, without having really realized the passage of 20 years.

Who knew how much things would change. That was before the black hole of thyroid disease, before food allergies, before I knew I couldn't cope with mother hood and a part time job and do both well, when I still thought I would bounce back from giving birth and continue to run at the same level I had in my early 30's.

But this past year has been full of blessings. For the first time, I got to enjoy Gideon, after the black hole I lived in the first 22 months of his life. Two was a fantastic year. He's become quite the articulate little man, inquisitive about anything (hence our recent rule that "Mommy cannot answer unless you ask a complete question" - a rule I usually forget until I've been sucked into the "Why? mom" cycle a few times) playful, affectionate sometimes and sometimes dissolving into tempestuous storms of tears and hollering. I've learned a little about discipline - mostly how little I know - and am thankful for James 1:5 - "If any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives generously and without finding fault, and it will be given to him." We have had many an opportunity to ask - and God (unlike me) generously gives over and over again. I have seen in the unpleasant mirror of my relationship with me son how short tempered, selfish, self-serving, and ungenerous I am - would that God would grow in both mom and son the fruit of righteousness.

He's turned into a little boy before our eyes - playing with his trucks and cars and planes and motorcycles, creating traffic jams, building train tracks ... His favorite birthday gift a big tonka fire truck he picked out himself at walmart, and then spent the past week asking "Mommy, is it my birthday yet? am I three yet? How I cannot open my fire truck before my birthday?" But today the magic moment came and with great excitement he reenacted the Christmas parade we watched on Sunday, paying particular attention to the emergency vehicles that so enthralled him in real life.

In the kitchen this afternoon he helped me make his birthday cake - a gluten free, dairy free, egg free pumpkin spice cake with cranberries and maple brown sugar frosting. I am thankful for the unexpected blessing of food allergies that has taught me to cook much better than I ever did with every ingredient at my disposal - and has made me love creating in the kitchen for my family. And along with that I am working on patience for including a little helper in the process every day with as much grace as I did today since "it's his birthday." Strangely after licking batter off his fingers and exclaiming over how yummy it was, he ate very little of his cake, but did ask me to relight the candles three times so he could blow them out again. I am expecting we will continue to do this for a day or two. Perhaps we can even segue from birthday candles to advent candles ... 'tis the season, after all.

I am so thankful for the little boy I thought I would never bond with; that God protected him and made him thrive despite the dark valley mommy walked in for so long, and that God brought us out again into sunshine to enjoy this past year together.

Gideon, I pray that God will bless this next year as I learn to mother a three year old, and you learn to BE one - that we will lean on Him and trust Him through each curve in the path, and that when you are an old man you will always know that your mommy loved you.

Happy Birthday, son.