My Life With Jellies

                If you know me very well, you know that I am not a foot person.  Some people may respond that that’s an understatement.  I don’t like being touched by other people’s feet, and I don’t like them touching mine.  Would I like a foot massage?  No.  Would I like my toes painted?  No.  Leave my feet alone.  They are mine, I can take care of them myself, thank you very much.

                What gets me even more than people trying to touch my feet or trying to make me touch theirs, is socks.  I will not wear shoes without socks, but I cannot stand touching socks that have already been worn.  It doesn’t matter how long they’ve been worn of even if I was the one wearing them.  If they’ve been on feet, I don’t want to have anything to do with them.  To me, socks that have been one feet = sweat soaked grossness.  BUT ANYWAY…

                I’m sensitive about my feet in other ways too.  I only ever want to wear sneakers.  If I have to dress up, I’ll go as far as putting on some heels that have the toes covered.  This doesn’t mean that I don’t like the cute little flats that all the females are wearing now.  They’re totally cute!  My problem is that I look at them and think about jellies and shudder.

                Some of you may be thinking, what the heck are jellies?  If you were a female growing up in the 80’s and 90’s, you would not be asking this question.  I feel sorry for you, I really do!

                Jellies are the stinking coolest shoes that were ever invented!  They were sandals made out of semi-colored jelly-like plastic.  You could get them in either pink, purple or clear translucent.  My favorite were the pink with sparkles.

                My sister and I wore these every summer, all summer long.  They were our FAVORITES!  They made us feel pretty and made up, but there were two problems with them.

                The first problem is that they always disappeared.  You see, as a child of the 80’s in Eugene Oregon, one of our most common haunts was Papa’s Pizza.  Every get together, birthday party, and after t-ball party was held at Papa’s Pizza.  They had the most entertaining and ridiculously huge playground ever imaginable.  It had a merry-go-round that wasn’t quite so merry.  There was a playhouse-thing that had tubes to crawl through, a tower to sit and play telephone in with a bunch of random kids (one always had a dirty diaper that stunk up the joint), and for the older kids who were too mature to just run around like crazy gerbils, it had a dark cavernous hideout in the body where they could drag a friend to tell secrets or take their playground “boyfriend” to practice the art of kissing.  Heck, there was even a giant wood wheel that kids could run on, which gave more credence to the simile above, or where they could trip and roll around underneath all the other kid’s feet.

                My favorite though, was the ball pit.  It was AMAZING.  I could pretend to swim around in coins like Scrooge McDuck through his coins in Ducktails.  I could throw the balls out at my sister to get her attention and then duck under to hide.  My love for the ball pit was equal to my love for jellies, and therein held the problem.

                You see, every time that we would go to Papa’s Pizza and were let loose into the play area, both my sister and I would head right for the balls and jump in!  We didn’t have time to follow the pesky rules and take our shoes off.  The problem was, when we came back up.  One or both of us would come out with one less shoe, and two very upset parents. 

I cannot tell you how many times this happened.  You may ask why we didn’t wise up and take our shoes off before we jumped in.  Well, smarty pants, we did.  And it didn’t matter because whenever we left our jellies in the shoe cubby outside of the ball pit, they’d be stolen by the time we’d get out. 

It got to the point that my parents refused to buy us jellies anymore.  I remember going to Fred Meyer as a kid and crying with my sister because we were given a firm “no” when we begged and pleaded for new jellies.  Every time she’d take us over to pick up a new shoe, no matter how sparkly and girly it was, we’d just pull her back over to the jellies shoe display and tell her that was all we wanted. 

When it finally got through our heads that we weren’t going to get jellies, we just sat in silence while our Mom picked out our new shoes.  There was no way we were going to help her.  If she insisted we got something else, she would just have to take care of it.  That would show her.

So, I got sneakers.  I was not happy with it and almost refused to wear them, but when you’ve gotta wear shoes, you’ve gotta wear shoes.  So I slipped them on and was immediately surprised.  They were so comfortable!  It was amazing.

You see, here’s the second problem with jellies.  They’re made of plastic!  Sure, it may be a jelly-like plastic, but they’re plastic nonetheless!  Just imagine being an active kid in the summer time who has sensitive skin and doesn’t do well in heat.  Then think of wearing plastic sandals that have holes in them.  As an active kid, you run around everywhere you can get away with.  This means bark mulch, pebbles, grass, and dirt get stuck between your warm, sensitive skin, and plastic.  Just typing this out is making my feet burn. 

Because of jellies, I cannot wear shoes without socks because of think of the plastic chafing against directly against my skin and rubbing in debris of the outdoors into my feet.  This means no cute little slip on shoes, and absolutely no flip flops (which I physically cannot figure out how to walk in away…but that’s another story).

So, I’m left all year round wearing my sneakers.  But I have to say, I have some pretty awesome sneakers!  Kangaroos anyone? 

The Crooked Woman: A Fable

There once was a crooked woman who lived her life in shame.  She wasn’t crooked by any trespass she committed, but was crooked by happenstance.  Children laughed and taunted her as she made her crooked way down the street.  Men pretended she wasn’t there, and women whispered their spiteful words veiled as concern and pity.

It hadn’t always been that way.  Once the crooked woman had been a spry young lady.  She and her sister shared both look and personality.  They were happy and as carefree as the world allows any person to be.

When they were young, the sisters had lived through a tragedy together, but had both come out of it with nary a visible scratch.  They were still haunted by those days, when they dove into the thoughts and memories.  Yet as far as anyone was concerned, they had pulled through marvelously.

One day, the crooked woman’s sister began her fairy tale.  She married a handsome young man who was devoted to her in every way.  They laughed and loved and spent every day living to please the other.  Everything was perfect and white; covered in fairy dust and rose petals.

It wasn’t long before the bubble of the sister’s perfection ripped apart.  She and her young man were taking a day together.  They planned to frolic in a meadow filled with buttercups and mistletoe.  Yet as they danced through the wondrous meadow, the sister fell to the cobbled ground.  She became diseased.  Her whole body began to swell and turn black.  The young man fell to his knees and wept as he saw his love and his future fester and rot in front of him.  

His cries of anguish filled the air, scaring the birds who then carried it to the village as they fled from the now desolate meadow.  People ran to the noise to see what great happening could be occurring that would cause the young man to make such a noise.  They were to feast on his misery.

The crowd stood back, watching in delight as the woman’s time passed before their eyes.  A round and rosy-cheeked doctor came forward with the one who would become the crooked woman to peer at the sister.  

The doctor placed her hand on the young man’s shoulder and looked at the sister she had walked with whose body began to kink, slope, and jut as the crowd looked on.  “There is nothing to do besides remove her from this body.  You must cut her out.”

The young man looked up at the round, rosy-cheeked doctor with pleading and horror in his eyes, slightly shaking his head.  His lips remained silent.

The crooked woman slowly pulled the knife that was clinking around in her apron pocket, knocking against her jutting knees.  Grasping the young man’s hand, she placed it over hers so they were holding the knife together.  His eyes trailed up to her, seeing her for the first time.  His eyes flared with startled recognition and disgust at her new form.

He stood and put a tentative arm around the now crooked woman and led her over to his bloated wife.  Leaning down, they held the knife over her stomach, shaking and dripping with sweat.  Slowly and deliberately, the knife was lowered and sank into the decaying flesh that the young man had so recently touched gently with love.  A putrid gas floated up and assailed the nostrils of every living thing in the area.  

The thing that used to be the sister and a wife, stared up into the faces of her loved ones as two men with black hoods covering their faces meandered up to where she was slowly dying.  With gloved hands, they grabbed her and dragged her away.  Her eyes were linked with what was her family until the men had disappeared with her into the forest.  No one knew or asked how she was disposed of or where she went.  Her transition from a human being into a diseased and dying specimen had revoked any right anyone had toward her.

The young man then let go of the now crooked woman.  Reaching out his hand, he cupped her cheek.  His eyes were full of sorrow as he looked through her. 

His hand dropping, his shoulders hunched, the young man slowly made his way to the covering of trees.  He disappeared into the blackness of their sanctuary.  A blackness that matched the bemoaning in his heart.

The round, rosy-cheeked doctor looked at the crooked woman and studied her.  “Yes, you’ll make it.”  She answered the question that wasn’t asked.  “You will live, but have no life.”  And she turned and moved back into the group of people who had started to move back to the village.

The crooked woman stood in the desolate and barren meadow a while longer.  She no longer felt as though she existed, yet she had a sense of not being right.  There was no joy left.  There was nothing.  She had become a living un-living thing.  A crooked woman who was no longer an asset to society.  Who lived but did not live. 

Clean Sheets

He sat down heavily on the bed.  The spring creaked familiar underneath him.  He lifted up his hands, holding them in front of his face seeing the lines there that he took for granted every day.  Those hands with those lines had been happy once; holding a hand, caressing a cheek, stroking hair.  

     He brought them to his face and covered his eyes.  They became damp as they rubbed his eyelids, then moved up to run through his hair.

     What now?  He couldn’t look at his hands again.  He’d put too much stock into those hands.  Into everything, really.  

     Standing up, he unbuttoned his shirt slowly, remembering the feel of each button, and then let it fall to the floor.  Next came his pants, undershirt, socks, and underwear.  He didn’t even think to bend over and pick up the pile of dirty clothes.  He never would have made it if he had.

     Naked and feeling as newborn as...well...his mind couldn’t bring itself to finish that one.  He pulled the covers back from the bed and slid between the sheets.  He covered himself up.  Clean sheets.  That had been one of her favorite feelings.  One that he’d always teased her about because it was so simple and so pure.  

     She’d changed them this morning.  This morning...that was so long ago.  He’d been dressing as she fluffed the sheets up.  She’d given him a smile and a wink.  New sheets always meant a christening sometime that day.  He’d smiled back, thinking of the easy yet exciting day that was ahead of them.  

     And yet here he was.  Alone.  The fresh sheets reminding him of what he’d lost only hours ago.  He used to be part of a whole, now he was all that was left.  The other half, the better half, was gone.  And so was any future they’d planned together.

     He felt like half of his body had been ripped off.  There was a gaping wound furiously leaking blood.  He couldn’t live like this.  He’d die.  He hoped he would die.    

     Slowly, he curled himself into a ball, hugging his knees.  “Jesus...”  He began to pray...and then stopped, trying to think.  “Jesus, I just don’t know...as much as I hate it right now...your will be done.”  He was barely able to croak out this prayer before the pills took over and he crashed into oblivion.  If he was conscious, he would have hoped he’d stay there.

Just A Day Like Any Other

            I have a particular way that I act when I’m waiting at the Eugene train station for my bus up to school in Portland.  Everything that I do is done for a reason.  First, I keep my headphones in.  I’m usually listening to a Matt Chandler or Mark Driscoll sermon, so I’m definitely into it, but that isn’t the main reason why I keep those suckers in.  I also keep my cell phone out most of the time, checking it every few seconds or so for text messages (and a lot of times I send text messages to my friends for no reason other than to look busy).  I keep as far away from the waiting people as possible, sidling up to where the bus usually parks to pick us up.  All of these things help me from drawing any sort of attention to myself, and it also keeps people from talking to me because I look predisposed.  I also carry a bag with me (my MacGyver bag) that has everything in it that I could possibly need in any situation ever.

You may wonder why I put so much stock into being so unapproachable.  If you’ve ever been downtown Eugene, you may understand why.  There is a certain type of people you’ll find there.  Often the people downtown that don’t really understand personal space.  They like to ask for money or cigarettes, and they usually smell pretty…interesting.  There’s usually a lingering smell of alcohol mixed with body odor and a hint of crazy drifting around people like a swarm of gnats.  Then there are the kinds of people who really enjoy starting a conversation with a person and then attaching themselves said person presumably for till the end of time.  This sort of thing makes me very uncomfortable.

You see, even thought I make sure to look like I’m completely distracted by my ipod and cell phone, I’m actually on high alert and notice most of what is going on around me.  This is a good disguise for people watching.

One day when I was waiting for the bus, I noticed a figure out of the corner of my eye.  He was about two blocks away, but there was something distinct about him.  The way he was moving was more of a shambling stagger than an actual walk.  The jacket that he wore was sliding off one shoulder and the arm was dragging on the ground.  One foot sort of skidded alongside him as he walked.

Everyone else standing outside of the station waiting for the bus were talking with people around them or reading books and listening to music.  I figured since they were all preoccupied that I’d just have to keep an eye on this guy myself.

So I kept my eyes covertly trained on him as he got closer and closer to the station.  When he was in the parking lot, I could see details on him much clearer.  Everything he had on him was smudged with dirt and grime.  His eyes were almost cloudy and didn’t focus.  Below his gaunt cheeks, his mouth hung open just enough to see the very few remaining teeth in his mouth.

After seeing these details, I quickly popped out one of my earbuds and strained to listen to him over the noise of the people around me chatting.  He’d gotten all the way to the station and was now trying to figure out how to get up the steps to the platform.  And there it was, exactly as I’d feared…a quiet but nonetheless real groan.  Just as it dawned on me what was happening, the man’s murky eyes rolled to the side to lock on one of the people standing closest to him.  He slowly reached out one of his hands toward a girl standing and chatting with a guy and groaned louder as he finally managed to get a foot up one of the steps to the platform.

            I jumped into action.  Slinging my bag around, I quickly unzipped it, stuffing my hand all the way to the bottom, grasping whatever my hand landed on first.  It was a pen.

            “This’ll have to do.”  I mumbled to myself as I uncapped it and looked up for my target.

            He had gotten farther up the steps and was just close enough to grab the girl standing nearest him.  She was just starting to shout a warning at the stranger not to touch her as I flung the pen at the slinking man.  It hit him directly in the ear and stuck there, which only gave him a second’s pause.  I hoped that pause would give me enough time to reach him.

            Leaving my bag where it was, I lunged forward, knocking the crowd of people out of my way as I made a bee line toward the man.  A line cleared for me as people started to finally notice the girl’s screams.  The man was over the annoyance of the pen in his ear and now he was starting to claw at the bare skin on her arm.

            Just feet away from the man I grabbed the book that a nearby recluse was reading, shouting at me as I snatched it from his hands.  I pulled it back to get momentum and then swung at the slinking man’s head, hitting the pen as hard as I could.  It sunk deep into his head, squishing into the brain (I presume) because what little life was left in him vanished and he fell to the floor like a sack of oranges.

            The girl he’d been clawing had stopped screaming.  I looked around and saw that no one was paying attention anymore.  I tossed the book back to the person I’d taken it from and he just went back to reading after giving me the slightest look of disapproval.  He didn’t even avoid putting his hands in the blood that was congealing on the book.

            Pulling my attention back on the girl next to me, I grabbed her arm and inspected the scratches.  They were bleeding and gaping.  She didn’t wince at my touch.  

            Next I had to check her eyes, and there it was.  What must have been beautiful, deep brown eyes just seconds ago, were now being clouded over by a dusty gray.  There was no focus to them. 

            Just then there was a loud honk coming from the street.  I looked up to see the bus was pulling into the train station and making its way toward us.  It was going to be sliding in right next to me.

            There was a slight moan starting to escape from the girl next to me whose arm I was still holding.  Before I knew it, her head dove down toward my hand to try and snatch a bite.  I was lucky she didn’t weight very much.  Using them momentum of her strike, I was able to yank her around and toss her from the platform just as the bus was sliding in.  There was a crunch and a crack as the bus bounced over her lifeless body. 

            “Sorry kid.”  I said as I turned to gather my bag and get in line for the bus.  I popped my earbuds back in as I found my favorite seat in the right isle toward the back of the bus.  People were still abuzz with conversation, but no one seemed to have noticed what had just happened right in front of their eyes. 

            I looked out the window as we pulled away from the station.  There were two bodies lying on the ground outside, but they were already starting to decompose.  All the evidence would be gone soon, and in 3 short hours I’d be up in Portland and on my way to class.

            Ok….so there are parts of this story that aren’t exactly true.  Maybe even all of it after the first two or three paragraphs.  But really, any of that could happen at any time.

Beyond just feeling uncomfortable with and suspicious of some of the people that dwell down there, I am convinced that downtown Eugene Oregon is going to be where the impending zombie apocalypse is going to start.  Seriously.  If you don’t believe me, you’ve never been downtown Eugene.

Life Sucks Part 2: All Is Right With the World

I still hold strong to my last post about how life sucks.  There’s no denying that, at least in part, without being delusional.  Yet this morning, I find myself waking up with a sense of overwhelming peace.  I am satisfied with the day thus far and with my life.  

It’s not like I’m doing anything exciting, I’m just going through my usual Saturday routine.  The kids let me sleep in until a whopping 6:30 (hallelujah!) before waking me up to have me feed them, then I slept for another few hours.  I read a few pages in bed after I decided it was time to get up and I’d had enough sleep (my favorite thing about Saturdays, they’re the one day I can sleep as long as I want).  

A few minutes later I got up out of bed and sorted the laundry and put some in the washing machine.  As I did, I remembered a few things that I need to pick up at the store later today.  Usually at this point I start to prepare myself for action, pumping myself up to go to the store and to figure out some sort of recipe to make tonight for dinner that will give us leftovers for tomorrow.  Instead, this morning I found myself just being thankful that I could even go grocery shopping, and that I’m adult enough to make a list (silly, silly things).

My mind hummed with my schedule today: do laundry, go grocery shopping, finish my homework, work out.  I rarely make lists for myself, but when I do they sort of swallow me up because I have pressure to get everything done.  Not today.

Today, as I moved around our apartment, I felt satisfied.  I cleaned the house yesterday, so that was one less thing to do.  Aquinas and Ashi were both passed out on the bed with Aaron, so I didn’t have to ref any fights.  I didn’t feel self conscious that my hair was sticking straight up.  I was grateful (and still am) for how a lot of really crappy situations lately have turned out.  I was even more grateful for the ability to be grateful.  I woke up with the smile on my lips that I’d gotten so used to through most of my life, but that had seemed to abandon me for the past couple of years.

Nothing in this world is perfect.  We don’t know why things happen and we have to try to be content with knowing that God may or may not let us know, yet He still uses things for good.  As you know, I am fully aware of all of this.  Yet, instead of thinking of Job and Joseph, other verses are flowing through my head.  

“This is the day the Lord had made, I will rejoice and be glad in it” (Psalm 118:24).  I think that a lot of people take this verse to mean that they have to be happy about everything no matter how hard and how crushing it might be, that it’s an ultimatum.  But what we are called to do here is rejoice in everything that God does.  He doesn’t create the bad situations, although He’ll allow them.  God makes good out of the bad situations.  I say, rejoice in that.  God has made this day as He’s made all things and He is good, so we will rejoice in the fact that He brings good into this fallen world and that He cares enough to do so.

For over ten years, what I considered my life verse was Matthew 6:34, 35, “Do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself; each day has enough troubles of its own.”  I’ve been a worrier my whole life and this verse is a reminder to take each day and it’s troubles one by one.  For someone who is afraid that not worrying means that they aren’t prepared for situations in life, you can’t get any better an excuse to relax than that.  

So far today, I’m impressed upon to feel few troubles and just kick back, enjoying my day that will be filled with the boring and the usual.  Heck, I’m barely even annoyed that, yet again, what I’ve written isn’t quite as good as what I’d been thinking in my head before sitting down to my computer. I’m just happy that I can write something with good enough grammar for people to be able to read.  Just call me Pollyanna.

Life Sucks

Life sucks.  Seriously.  And I’m not meaning in an emo sort of way.  It’s just true, a lot of things that happen in life suck.  There’s death, cancer, emotional baggage, poverty, war, and so many different evils in the world that just really suck.  It’s impossible to get away with not being affected by these things in some way, even if you don’t experience them personally.  Sin has pretty much ruined our world.

So what do we do?  Well, I can’t account for everyone, but I know what I do.  I have one thing that I take comfort in that is the only thing that keeps me sane.  Jesus.  

Some people might be rolling their eyes by now and scoffing at that, thinking I’m just a kid who doesn’t know what “life sucking” really is or someone that’s been brainwashed.  Well, think what you may.  The awesome thing is that God has control over that.

You see, Jesus has two characteristics that I absolutely adore that kind of make everything better, or at least bearable.  Most people right now would be guessing that one of them is His love.  Jesus’ love is a great and mighty thing, a freaking sweet characteristic of His, but it’s not what I’m referring to here.  You see, beyond all of Jesus’ characteristics including love, kindness,  justice, acceptance, grace, and majesty (as well as many others), His righteousness and sovereignty are what keep me going through all this crap on earth.

Jesus reigns over everything, including Satan.  Satan, demons and the effects of sin cannot do any work without Jesus’ consent.  (I know I’ve lost a lot of you here, but just hang in there with me).  The best example I can think of here is the story of Job in the Bible.  Pretty much, he’s a great guy.  He does everything he’s supposed to, his family is full of believers and all of his children are just as successful as he is.  Then at one point, Satan asks God’s permission to mess with Job and see if he will turn on God.  The twist is, God consents.  The rest of the story is Job’s life falling to pieces and neither his friends nor his wife, as much as they try to “help” him through it, can help him at all.  They try to figure out what Job did for all of this to happen to him and blame him for committing sins.

Job was amazing in the fact that he never turned on God, and he didn’t listen to his friends or his wife.  He did mourn the deaths of the people in his family, the loss of his livelihood, and the decline of his health (heck he even got angry at God), but then he continued to praise God. He definitely wasn’t perfect (come to find out a lot of the good things he did were done because of selfishness).  Overall, Job dealt with things as they came in a fairly appropriate (although human) way.  Embracing the fact that everything that happened sucked, but also that God must have a reason.

In the end, God had a heart to heart with Job.  Job asked God why He did the things He had to Job.  God’s answer?  It isn’t for Job to know everything that God is doing, even in his life.  As callous as this may sounds, it makes so much sense!  Was Job there when God created the earth?  Was he there when God breathed life in to man?  Not at all.  Job is part of God’s creation and God is sovereign over all.  What He does is His business.

The question comes up here, then why believe in God?  What stops Him from doing evil things to people all the time just for kicks and to play with people, kind of like a kid with a magnifying glass on an ant hill.  That’s where God’s righteousness comes in.  God is righteous and so does everything for some sort of reason, even if we never understand what that reason is.  

God did not make the world evil and sinful.  Everything crappy that happens to us comes down to the fact that there is sin in the world.  What God does is He takes the sin that is meant for evil and then uses it for good.  We may not ever see the good that comes out of it, but it does.  Just look at Joseph with his brothers.  First they try to kill him, then they sell him off into slavery.  As his life gets better and he moves up as a top slave, he is then thrown into jail because of some false accusations from his owner’s shady wife.  After he’s in jail he helps save a royal servant who was put in there, and then waits years before he is ever repaid for that favor.  Then, he is taken out of jail and after some pretty sweet dream interpretations and helping the Pharaoh, he is elevated to a monumental status in Pharaoh’s house and even saved Pharaoh's people from a famine.  In the end, he’s able to help his good-for-nothing brothers who caused all of this super crappy stuff to happen in the first place and does it with joy.  When his borthers finally realize that it is Jacob who is helping them, they understandably ask him why he would do that after everything they’d done to him.  His answer?  In Genesis 5:20 he says, “...you meant evil against me, but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive, as they are today.”

Jacob completely got the whole concept.  God allowed those things to happen to Jacob.  They were terrible and in God’s love for His children and compassion for us, I’m sure that it hurt him to see those things go down.  But because of what Jacob went through, he was able to save a whole land from a famine and have enough influence on the Pharaoh to keep his family alive as well and therefore go on to create the 12 tribes of Israel that would eventually produce Jesus Christ.  

Jacob went through the motions and made everything that he did count.  He trusted that God had great things in store for him.  It seemed impossible in the way his life was turning, but God came through!

Trusting in God’s sovereignty over everything, including my personal life, is what I cling to when things go all craptastic on me.  I may never know why something has happened, but I can trust that it is part of God’s will and that He takes what is sinful and meant for evil, and will use it for good in some way because He is righteous.  In that righteousness He is loving, full of grace, and bearer of justice.  

Knowing these things doesn’t keep me from getting upset or shield me from noticing when bad things happen.  I’ve got my “Debbie Downer” moments and times when I just don’t want to exist anymore because things hurt so bad (kind of reminiscent of some of King David’s Psalms).  That’s when God reminds me of those two characteristics of His.  He is sovereign and righteous.  Remembering that gives me a sort of peace that can only come through Him, and I realize that even though life sucks, I really can get through anything as long as I do it through Him, and that’s when I can’t help but worship and praise Him.  

I don’t have to like every situation or even think that it’s fair.  I just have to remember that fair doesn’t come in to play in a broken and sinful world.  God will morph evil into good, and His presence on the earth actually gives us the taste of what good is, rather than left being encompassed with evil.  He really is a great and mighty God.  He is righteous and sovereign.  He brings the only justice the world sees, and grants grace on His people.  Even in the harsh, sucky, craptastic parts of life, I find contentment and peace when in Him.  

HALLELUJAH!  Jesus, you freaking ROCK!

Contentment (Phil. 4:11)

      Second to last time.  Second to last time.  Almost done!  Just one more.  Andrea kept telling herself as she smiled politely at the nurse hooking up her IV.  It was her second to last chemo treatment.  She could hardly believe it was almost over, but it was still hard to think that she would be starting her recovery soon.  Her hair would grow back and she wouldn’t be nauseated and tired all the time.  And still, the one final treatment still seemed like a huge hill to climb.
     “There you go, sweetie.  That vein was pretty easy to find this time.”  The nurse patted her arm lightly with a self satisfied smile.   Andrea found it interesting that the nurses always blamed her when it was hard to find a vein, but they took all the credit themselves when the task ended up being easy.  “We’ll start you on your pre-meds now.”

     “Thank you.”  Andrea called after the nurse who had turned to go to the pharmacy.

     It was time to pop in the movie.  She’d brought one of her favorites, Moulin Rouge.  Andrea had been falling asleep during her last couple treatments so she figured watching something with great music would be kind of soothing if she fell asleep.  A couple treatments ago she’d fallen asleep while watching Psycho.  The music and the creepy voices didn’t really make for good dreams.

     As soon as they hooked her up to the Benadryl, Andrea felt her eye lids get heavy.  She seemed to react to it quicker and quicker each time. 

      Sitting up straighter in the cushy cream colored chair, she turned up the volume of the headphones attached to her tiny T.V. screen.  She wanted to stay awake as long as possible.  It was always discombobulating to wake up in this place. 

     One of her least favorite nurses finally brought over her first bag of treatment.  She’d been there two hours already, and she wanted to get this over with. 

     “Name and date of birth.”  The nurse demanded.  She was the oldest nurse that Andrea had seen in the office.  Instead of being the grandmotherly type that one would hope for in a place like this, this lady was more of a nurse Ratchet.  The nicest she ever got was when she was being condescending.

     “Andrea Quinn, December 23^rd 1982.”  She responded while the old nurse hung the bag of chemo without saying another word and walked away.

     Andrea couldn’t help it; she started to doze off again.  She was pretty good at catching herself when she started to doze.  The motion of her head dropping down to her shoulder or chest usually woke her up.
     This time, it felt like her head had just dipped down when she started to wake up again, but she didn’t hear any of the Moulin Rouge music.  Maybe the movie was already over.  She must have dozed longer that it felt like.

     Andrea opened her eyes to something she couldn’t have even dreamed to expect.  She looked out in front of her to see a meadow filled with purple flowers dancing in the wind.  “What…?” 

     She looked around her.  It was the same thing everywhere, surrounding her.  A meadow encircled by trees.  The noxious smell of chemicals and disinfectant from the chemotherapy room was gone.  In its place was….freesia!  One of Andrea’s favorite scents.

     Looking down at herself, Andrea saw that she was still in the cream colored recliner from the hospital.  The IV was still strapped to her arm; the pole with the solution hanging was connected to it. 

     Bringing her arm up to look at the IV closer, she had an idea.  Without giving it a second thought, Andrea plucked up an edge of the tape holding the needle into her arm and ripped it off as quickly as she could.  It stung for a second, but when Andrea looked down all she could see was a little red area where the adhesive had irritated her skin.  There was no hole, no blood, nothing. 

     Still holding onto the tape, she inspected it.  What she had in her hand was a sticker.  It had a needle painted onto it, and the tube that lead to the pole holding the solution was painted on until it attached to the actual tube.

     Eyes wide, Andrea inhaled deeply and held it for a second.  She wasn’t sure what was going on.  Where was she?  What was she doing here?  How the heck did she get here?

     It took only a second of fear and questions racing through her head before Andrea snapped out of it.  She used the deep breath she was holding to let out a loud, throaty hoot of excitement as she launched herself off of the cream chair and started twirling around the meadow.

     Something else hit her as she spun.  She didn’t feel tired anymore!  She felt like she could run across the entire meadow for days without stopping.  To prove it to herself, she started running.

     Andrea reveled in the warm flowery scent of the meadow.  The smell of pitch from the surrounding trees mixed with the fresh flower scent.  It reminded her of early summer when she was a kid.  She’d lie in the grass of her backyard, looking up at the sky and think about all of the potentials that the summer months held. 

     A bright green grassy spot was ahead of her, and she dove into it so fast that she picked up momentum.  She ended up landing in some of the flowers.  Laughing at herself, Andrea rolled into the grass and looked up at the crystal blue sky.  Taking another deep breath she called out, “Thank you!  Wooo!”

     She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, looking up at the beautiful sky and watching the birds flying around above her.  It seemed like a long time, yet no time at all.  The sun hadn’t moved.  It was at the perfect angle, still bright but not enough to irritate her eyes. 

     Andrea moved to put her hands behind her head and froze.  As soon as her hands were clasped underneath her she felt…was it possible?  Sitting up quickly, she whipped her head around.  It was true! Her hair was back! 

     Her rich auburn, wavy tresses cascaded over her shoulder and down her arm.  It was as long as it had been before she’d started chemo.  How had this happened?

     Looking down at her hair, she noticed that her clothes had changed from what she had been wearing before.  One of the many pairs of sweats she’d been living in for the past 7 months had been replaced by her favorite pair of khaki Bermuda shorts.  Her feet were now covered in the converse shoes that she had hidden in a special spot up in her closet because her toes had become too sensitive to wear them.  The navy blue zip-up that she’d lost when she was a teenager during a football game at school cocooned her like the hug of an old friend.  Andrea couldn’t help but gasp and laugh in delight.

     If she’d missed her change in clothes and the fact that she had hair again, Andrea concluded that she hadn’t been paying enough attention to her surroundings, so she decided to investigate.  As she stood up, she felt a sharp pain in her stomach and heard a gurgle.  It took her a moment to realize that she was hungry.  She hadn’t been hungry in months.  Placing her hand over her stomach, she smiled.  Even though it was uncomfortable, being hungry was quite a treat.  It made her feel human again.

     Andrea looked about and noticed that at one edge of the meadow, there was an open space devoid of trees.  There was something there; she guessed it was a boulder.  It seemed to mark what looked to be the end of the meadow.  She jogged in that direction, enjoying the movement of her legs and the feel of her lungs working. 

     Just a few yards away from her destination, Andrea realized why there weren’t any trees.  This side of the meadow was actually a cliff.  She could hear the roar of water and wondered if there was a waterfall nearby.

     Finally reaching the boulder that was waist high, Andrea hopped onto it to look out in front of her.  She was a little shocked and very pleased to see that beyond her meadow was the ocean.  The water was bright and clear, the breeze cool.  It had been far too long since she’d made a trip to the coast.  She sat on the boulder and watched the waves lapping in and out for a time.

     Another pang and gurgle from her stomach interrupted her reverie.  Regretfully hopping down from her perch on the boulder, Andrea decided that she should at least look around to see if she could find anything suitable to eat. 

     Taking one step to her right, Andrea’s foot caught something.  She looked down to find a tin pail next to the boulder.
     “Interesting.”  She muttered to herself.

     Opening the pail, she found a box of rice crackers, a tin of sardines, and both a small and large container.  Since she’d already snooped that far, Andrea figured it wouldn’t hurt to keep going.  The smaller container was cool to the touch.  When she opened it she saw it housed a cheese spread.  The larger had a note taped to the cylindrical top.  In scrawling, beautiful letters, it read, “Please enjoy.” 

     “I will, thank you.”  Andrea smiled.  Taking off the top, she sniffed the liquid that was inside.  “Green tea.”  She mumbled.  These were all some of her favorite snack foods.

     Taking the pail with its contents, she hopped back up on the boulder and started making little sandwiches with them.  She nibbled on them and drank the tea while she watched the ocean in front of her.  It reminded her of a time when she’d gone horseback riding on the beach with her brother and aunt when they were little.  They’d spend the day racing each other and seeing how far they could go into the surf on the horses before one of them cried uncle.

     A noise to her left made Andrea jump.  She looked over and saw a white horse looking right at her, walking her way.  It looked exactly like a horse she’d had a picture of on her wall as a child.  His mane was long and stringy, a little more yellow than his coat, with flowers and bright green leaves stuck in it.  They looked to be woven in, but it was more likely that he’d walked through some foliage and took parts of them with him.

     Andrea had a few crackers left.  She held one out to him, clicking her tongue.  “Hi boy.”  She coaxed soothingly.  “Want a cracker?”

     His ears twitched to the side and then back at her as he kept walking, getting closer and closer.  When he finally reached her, he quickly ate the cracker held out to him, a bit of spittle running down his chin.  He made a deep whinny as thanks.

     “You’re welcome.”  Andrea said back, reaching her hand out to let him sniff it before she started to pet him.  They were there for a while, snuggling together; Andrea on her boulder, the horse practically laying his head in her lap. 

     At one point, the horse raised his head and moved so that he was blocking Andrea’s view with his back.  “Hey!”  She laughed, trying to sound indignant.  “I can’t see.”

     The horse didn’t move.

     Andrea got an idea.  “If you don’t move soon, I’m going to do something you might not like.”

     Again, he didn’t move.

     “Alright.  You asked for it.”  Andrea stood up on her boulder and moved to slide on the horse’s back.  Usually she would never try something like this, especially right next to a cliff, but this place wasn’t like normal places.  It gave her confidence to do what delighted her.  There was a distinct lack of worry and any form of fear didn’t last long.

     As soon as she was on the back of the horse and had a clump of his mane gripped in each hand, he started moving slowly at first, but gradually getting faster.  They raced around the meadow for a little bit, looping around the cream hospital chair that was still in its spot.  Then, the horse turned and headed into the trees.  They looked dense, but they were able to maneuver their way through the large firs without any difficulties.

            She wasn’t sure where they were going, but she didn’t care.  It wasn’t long before they reached one of the most beautiful things Andrea had ever seen.  The horse was taking her to a dirt path that lead through a thick patch of cherry trees, all bursting full of pink blossoms.  The slight breeze scattered them through the air.

     “Beautiful.”  Andrea breathed.  The horse had slowed down and was walking now.
     As they made their way into the beautiful, nature-made cherry blossom archway, Andrea raised her arms up into the air, face up and smiling, letting the blossoms bounce off of her as they fell lazily to the ground to be picked up again and swirled back into the air.  By the time they reached the end of the pathway, both Andrea and the horse had blossoms scattered all over in their hair.

     They stopped and looked out between the cherry trees to the scene ahead of them.  Lush, healthy grass grew up around a shimmering pond.  A large cluster of rocks on one side hosted a little trickle of a waterfall.  The area was nice and shady from thick willow trees surrounding it, their long boughs swaying in the wind.

     “Lovely isn’t it?”  A gentle voice asked from Andrea’s left.  She jumped a bit in her seat.  For some reason she hadn’t expected to see anyone in whatever place this was.  She was surprised to realize that she was angry to see another person around.  In her mind, she’d claimed this place for herself.

     Peering at him, she saw that he wasn’t much to look at.  A skinny young man with shaggy mouse brown hair that fell over his eyes stood at an unimpressive height surprisingly close to Andrea and the horse.  He wore a nondescript white t-shirt with nondescript jeans, and even more nondescript tennis shoes.  The young man was completely unimpressive, but for some reason just looking at him calmed Andrea’s anger.  It felt very right for him to be there.

     As she continued to stare at him, the young man looked up at Andrea.  Flicking his hair out of his eyes with a shake of his head, he smiled at her.  Meeting her eyes with his unimpressive brown ones, smiling with a mouth full of slightly crooked teeth, she couldn’t help but smile back.

     “Lovely, no?”  He asked again, cocking his head to indicate the pond scene in front of them.

     Andrea looked over at it.  Her eyes stuck to the water, the calm and peacefulness relaxing her even more.  She wanted to go and jump in.  To swim and splash.  “I’d say that’s a good word for it.”

     The young man laughed warmly.  “Hey.”  He said, getting her attention.

     “Yeah?”  Andrea looked down at him and saw a mischievous smile on his face.
     “I’ll race you.”  He said as he took off toward the water.

     “Crap!”  She laughed as she slid off the horse and started running after him.
     He didn’t go very fast, but he had enough of a head start that it seemed there was no way she would win.  That is, until he started taking off his shoes.  His shirt had already gone flying as he ran, but taking off his shoes tripped him up.  He even fell at one point, laughing as he wedged the shoes off his feet.
     That gave Andrea enough time to catch up and even pass him.  She was only a few feet away form the water when she kicked her converse off without any problem, the socks getting caught up in the motion and flying off her feet with them.  Then she ran the last few feet and launched herself into the pond, tucking into a cannonball and making a big splash.
     The water was nice and cold, swirling around her.  It was crystal clear enough that she could see as well as feel the young man when he finally made it into the water.  She was on her way up as he was still diving down. 

     When she broke the surface she took a deep breath and then sank into the water until only the top of her head and her eyes were showing.  It was only a few seconds later when the young man popped up too, laughing and shaking the soaking hair out of his face.  He started to swim over to Andrea.  When he got close enough, she popped the rest of her face out of the water and spit a streaming mouthful right into his face.

     “Really?!”  He asked as he sputtered and used the pond water to wipe off his face.

     “Um, yeah.” Andrea laughed at him.

     This started an epic water fight.  When they were done, Andrea crawled onto the pile of rocks to lay in a bit of sun trickling into the clearing.  The little waterfall trickled next to her.  The young man found his own spot of sun in the grass and stretched out there.

     Andrea soaked up the warm sun while it dried her clothes and hair.  It only felt that she lay there for a few minutes, but she was dry.  It occurred to her that wherever she was in this place didn’t really have a sense of time.  It seemed like she had woken up in the meadow days ago; had sat looking at the ocean for months.

     Thinking of those instances made her remember all the details about them.  She fiddled the blossoms in a lock of her hair as she realized that each event had been the epitome of happiness for her.  One wasn’t better than the next, but each was ultimate and supreme; it couldn’t be topped by anything.  She didn’t long to go back to those places though, it had been enough, satisfying.  It had been perfect.  As now was perfect, and the next moment was going to be perfect too.  It was something she couldn’t wrap her mind around.  Her brow furrowed as she tried to rationalize it.

     “You’re troubled.”  The young man said from his sunny spot.

     Andrea rolled onto her stomach and perched on her forearms to hold herself up so she could look at him.

     “I just don’t understand.”  She said to his sprawled body.

     “Yes you do.”  He told her, not unkindly.

     Andrea stayed as she was for a few minutes thinking about it.  The concept of not longing but still being joyful and full of adventure and hope and even peace was the most foreign idea she could imagine.  She’d always been a bit discontent in any situation, looking to the future or thinking about the joys of the past.  It was one of her greatest flaws.  Whatever “now” she was in was never good enough.  Yet in this place it was.  She had no regrets of anything she could thinking of, and could be content lying in this spot forever.  Or not.  She was just…content.

     “I suppose you’re right.”  She replied.

     The young man laughed again.  “Of course I am.”

     It was some amount of time later, or lack of time, that Andrea felt something on her left big toe.  She looked behind her and saw the white horse who was flopping his lips on her toe.

     “Oh hello horse.”  She said as she climbed up from her position and moved to where her shoes were.  After tying them, she went over to the horse’s side to pet him.

     “Do you need help up?”  The young man said right next to Andrea, startling her again.

     She nodded.  “Thanks.”

     He cupped his hands and bent down so she could step in them and then hoisted her up.  After he did that, the young man walked over to the pile of rocks she’d been laying on.  The horse followed him and stopped in just the right spot for the young man to mount behind Andrea.

     No one said anything as the horse retraced their steps back to the meadow filled with purple flowers.  The day was finally getting darker.  It gave a new hue to everything.  It gave everything an older, timelier feel to the still beautiful landscape.  Like the presence of an elderly family member.  They’d seen so much and learned so much.  They are at the end of their lives, but it isn’t sad or regretful.  They’re still lovely in their worn and pleasant way.

     When they reached the field, the young man slid off the horse and held up his hand to Andrea.  She took it and let him help her dismount.  Their hands stayed clasped as they walked through the meadow.

     The slight crinkling noise underfoot as they walked gave hint to the fact that some of the flowers had started to die and dry out.  With each treading of her foot Andrea could smell the lavender and other flower’s sweet perfume in a ripened, more mature way compared to when she had first arrived.  It was beautiful and comforting to her.

     The length of the field seemed ever expanding, like they’d walked forever but neither had picked up a sweat or felt any blisters on their feet.  Then, in what seemed like a second and yet three lifetimes in the strange way the world here worked, Andrea and the young man were standing in front of the cream hospital chair.

     The young man turned to Andrea, grabbing her other hand in his free one and gently helped her down into the chair.  As soon as she touched it, Andrea could feel her fatigue seeping back into her body.  It felt nice to rest in such a comfortable chair.

     The young man reached to the side and caught the tube of her IV, tracing it down to the sticker.  He placed the sticker gently on her arm, back over the area that was still a bit red from the adhesive before.

     Then he kneeled down in front of her.  Looking into her eyes intently, he leaned forward, cupping her face in his hand, holding her hand in his other.  Just a breath away from her face he stopped and said, “You understand.”

     Bracing herself to move despite her sudden fatigue, she was able to manage a small nod and breathed the word, “yes.”

     The young man smiled his warm smile at her again and leaned in further, kissing her gently but firmly on the forehead.  He moved away slowly, rubbing her cheek with his thumb in comfort as he moved.

     Andrea couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.  A faint headache had started and was increasing by the second.  Her last image of the young man was his blurry smile as he knelt in front of her, still holding her hand.  His smile stayed in her mind as she sunk deeper into her medicated sleep and her nostrils were assailed by the smell of chemicals and disinfectants.

Saturday? Double Shot? It's go time!

If you’ve read much of my blog, you’ll know that I’m not a fan of going and getting coffee for several reasons.  Because of that particular blog post, a co-worker of mine decided to take me under his wing; first instructing me and then testing me on the different kinds of coffee, and then going with me to a coffee shop just down the street from our work.  I’ve become a little more comfortable with coffee now because of his help, (thanks Garrett)!  

Never the less, I’ve come to discover that it is even better if coffee is brought to me, as it was done yesterday by my wonderful husband.  As I cooked breakfast, he dashed down to the coffee stand by our apartment and got me a fantastic candy flavored deliciousness of a coffee called a grass hopper.  Iced.  With a double shot.  YES.

Did I mention that I don’t drink coffee very often?  I’m not sure what I was thinking getting a double shot, but it shouldn't surprise anyone that after I finished what I can only describe as liquid heaven, I had quite a bit of energy...for HOURS.  I went for a 5 mile jog/walk, finished my philosophy homework, did laundry and ran errands.  Then my poor kids, Ashitaka and Aquinas, had to deal with their Mam disturbing things around the house like a tornado. 

Ashitaka AKA: Ashi, Mashi, Little

Thomas Aquinas AKA: Poopie, Poop

The kids know me well enough to understand that I’m crazy.  Get a little energy in me (which I haven’t had in a while) and I go a bit bonkers.  What they aren’t used to is me going in and completely destroying their world.

We’ve been struggling to keep Ashi’s food away from Aquinas because he will Hoover it down in about five seconds if he gets to it.  So, Ashi’s food has been moved to the dining room table (don’t worry, it’s mostly used as a very disorganized desk for me, not as an actual place where we eat), and Aquinas’ food is on the floor.  The Poop still manages to get to Ashi's food sometimes, as evidenced by chew marks on some of the books, but overall the system works pretty well.

Going on with the story, I decided that before I did my homework, I was going to clean up the table (which is supposed to be the husband’s job), and then maybe I’d move stuff around a bit.  The table used to be right underneath the counter of the kitchen.  My caffeine fueled brain came up with a horrifying vision of the animals getting on the counter, Aquinas finding himself in the sink, and Ashi turning on the garbage disposal on him.  Obviously, it is my job as a Mam to make sure this never happens.  

So, here’s the change:

The book shelf and the table switched places. OMG!

    This apparently wasn't ok with the kids.  Well, actually it wasn't ok with Aquinas.  This is the sequence of events after the big move:

Mam!  What did you do?!  I am SHOCKED (and feeling insecure).

Life is not worth living.  I give up!  (Did I mention I'm feeling insecure?)

Aaaah.  Big brother Mash and our favorite blankie makes things all better.   Insecure?  I don't even know what that means.

     This trial finally over, I figured the drama was over.  The Poop was sleeping, Ashi was enjoying his favorite pass time of smothering him, and I was all set to get my homework done.  LIKE A BOSS.

     What I'd forgotten to anticipate was the reaction of the husband:

If you're wondering, that's a mix of wonder and horror (he's not that good with change either)...

Sounds like another job for Super Mashi!  (A kitteh's job is never done).

After I finished with everything for the day, it was time to make dinner.  By this time, I was going crazy.  I was so physically tired (remember I jogged...JOGGED!!...I had a good reason to be tired!).  I was having a hard time moving and I really didn’t think I was going to be able to move enough to make dinner.

I was also going even more crazy than I was before.  Everything I did had an inner monologue to go with it.  Lucky for me, my sister puts up with this stuff very well.  The only way I was able to finish cooking was by sending her pictures explaining what I was doing and giving her the inner monologue of it all.  She thought it would be fun to put the recipe and pics up on my blog.  So, if you want a great recipe for scalloped potatoes, here it is (sans the worst parts of my monologue...I spare you that)!

Easy Scalloped Potato Recipe!

8 oz. cream cheese

1/2 cup sour cream

3 lb. red potatoes thinly sliced

1 cup chicken broth

Green onions

8 oz. shredded cheddar cheese

Whatever the crap you want!

HEAT oven to 350°F. 

Slice the potatoes...like a BOSS!

Mix the sour cream, cream cheese, and chicken broth until well blended. 

Add everything together and gently stir until everything is coated (very intense work).

Spoon into baking dish (13x9 inch), sprinkle with cheese, and bake for 1 hour.

Not as fun...cleaning up afterward. :(

Finished product (I will not take the blame for the upside down picture)!

EAT!  (Again, like a BOSS!)