Say What?? (Part 3)

"I'll tell you what...$1.50 for the rug and the book, and I'll throw in the rat for a quarter."

Aren't yard sales fun?


Now, I know plenty of people who can not stomach yard sales. Other people's old, used, and often dirty junk makes them nauseous.

I get that. I really do. There are some yard sales, and some stuff at certain yard sales, that could easily provoke the gag reflex. But if you steer clear of certain articles of clothing (yes, people really do sell underwear at yard sales) and things that can't we washed, bleached or otherwise disinfected, there are treasures to be had.

Like this:


I bought this mirror for $5 and I love it. I think it will be really cute painted white and hanging in my.......my, um.......oh, that's right. I don't know where to hang it. That's why it's still in my garage after 2 years. But I still think it has so much potential. And as soon as I find a spot for it, it will complete its journey from trash to treasure, unwanted to wanted, useless to useful.

I just love a story of redemption, don't you?

And the yard sale that took place in our very own yard last weekend has a bit of redemption worked in too.

The Women's Ministry at our church decided a few months ago to have a yard sale fundraiser for our Relay for Life team. As the time got closer, they saw that we were getting closer to completing Israel's adoption, and they felt moved to share the proceeds of the yard sale with us.

This is not the first time our little church has rallied around us and raised money to help pay for adoption costs. There are less than 200 people at our church, but between formal fundraisers and individual gifts, they've given close to $4,000 to help bring Israel home.

Ransom money.

A few months into the adoption process, I was standing in church, singing a song about how Christ paid our debt when He died on the cross, and I had a moment of revelation. You know that moment when the meaning in a song or a Bible verse that you've heard or said a hundred time suddenly becomes more clear?

I belonged to sin and death. They owned me. I did not have the means or the ability to change that. But Christ bought me. He paid with His own blood and He purchased me so that I could be His child.

"For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers, but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect. "
1 Peter 1:18-19

Ransom paid.

Redemption complete.

But wait, there's more...

See, the Bible says that when Christ redeems us, we are adopted as children of God. And as the truth of the words of that worship song washed over me, I was thinking about Israel.

We were adopting him as our child, but there was a ransom to be paid--a ransom in the form of attorney fees, agency fees, travel expenses, and document fees. And we did not have the means or ability to pay his ransom. But God did. He moved the hearts of His people, over and over again, to step in and pay the ransom for us and for Israel.

I just love a story of redemption, don't you?

Say What?? (Part 2)

A sentence that I never would have dreamed I'd need to say, and I quote:

"Yes, we are going to the grocery store. But first we have to go home and get you some clothes that don't have throw up on them."

Last week, Maya had a dentist appointment. It was going to be her first complete cleaning, and she was a little nervous about it.

(Rather unlike her sister, by the way, who actually cheers when we tell her she has a dentist appointment and enjoys the experience so much that she says she wants to be a dentist when she grows up. I used to think this was the result of my exceptional parenting skills which had so thoroughly prepared her and convinced her that the dentist was great fun. But the same tactics obviously did not work on Maya, so I guess my theory is out the window.)

So on this particular day, I had my teeth cleaned first while Maya watched, and then it was her turn in the chair.

She obediently (but silently) climbed into the chair, laid back, opened her mouth, and didn't move. She was completely stone faced as she laid there with her mouth open, as if she was resigned to the torture that she knew was coming. Frankly, I was relieved that she wasn't screaming or refusing to open her mouth, but her behavior was so odd -- especially for her and especially considering that the hygienist hadn't even sat down on her stool yet.

So there was Maya, laying perfectly still with her mouth open while the hygienist was moving all around the room looking over Maya's chart and preparing her instruments.

The cleaning proceeded uneventfully from that point. Maya cooperated with everything she was asked to do, although she would not say a single word...

"How old are you Maya?"
(Maya holds up 4 fingers)

Do you go to preschool?
(Maya nods her head)

Are you going to go to kindergarten next year?
(Another nod of the head)

Are you excited?
(nod)

Question, nod, question, nod, question, nod--I so wished I could have shown the hygienist a video of a typical car ride with this child. Perhaps if we put a tray of dental instruments between the girls' car seats...hmmm.

After about 5 minutes of this, I started to relax and let my guard down. I had hijacked the brand new Martha Stewart magazine from the waiting room, and it doesn't take too much arm twisting to get me to crack open one of those. Soon, my head was swirling with thoughts of the crafts I could make, the recipes I might try, and the "good things" I couldn't live without.

I glanced up and nodded my permission for the hygienist to put fluoride on Maya's teeth and smiled as Maya chose marshmallow flavor. "Gross," I thought, "but I'm sure she'll like it." And I went back to my magazine until the hygienist said, "Ok Maya, you're all done."

But when I looked at Maya, something didn't seem right. She looked like she had something in her mouth that she wasn't expecting and didn't like. I said, "I think she needs to spit again."

The hygienist stuck the little sucky hose thing back in her mouth, but something was still not right.

Maya opened her mouth a little, and it kind of overflowed.

I had just enough time to think, "How in the world is there so much fluoride in her mouth?" before Maya coughed and gagged. That sound was all it took to instantly snap me fully out of Martha Stewart la-la land and into the land of find-an-appropriate-container-right-this-second.

But there was nothing!

No spit bowl near the chair (they have those little sucky hose things now).

No trash can.

No cup, bag or starbucks cup.

Nothing.

Another cough, another gag, and a full breakfast volcano erupted out of my daughter with nothing to contain it.

The sweet hygienist, being a young mommy herself, followed the instinct that many young mommies learn by experience to ignore--the instinct that tells you to stick whatever you have under the flow, even if what you have guarantees that you are going to catch vomit in your bare hands. I appreciate that she made a valiant effort to use the paper bib clipped on to Maya's shirt to it's full capacity, but it's full capacity just wasn't enough.

And as the hygienist and I worked to remove all traces of flouride-coated scrambled eggs from Maya's shirt and pants, the dentist chair, and the floor, Maya put together the first complete sentence she had uttered the whole time:

"Mommy, I just didn't like the taste."

To be honest, I'm not sure she wasn't planning it all along.

Say What?? (Part 1)

What if, on your 18th birthday, you received a written list from God of the things He knew you'd end up saying one day?

Things like, "No, you can not ride the dog."

Or, "I beg you, please, next time take the screwdriver out of your pocket before you put your jeans in the hamper."

Or, "We do not drink water out of the fish tank!"

(Those are all things I really have had to say at one point or another).

And then, there was the time shortly after Maya was born, when I was sitting in a dermatologist's office in my lovely hospital gown waiting for the doctor to come in to look at a mole on my head. Why in creation the nurse made me put on a gown for that, I will never know.

So, as I sat and waited, my newborn was in the waiting room with Jeremy and apparently it was time for her to eat. While I had no idea about this, my body was fully aware, and so my baby's perfect source of God-given nutrition made itself available. Plentifully available.

At that moment, I realized how un-absorbent those hospital gowns really are, and in an effort to stop the soaking, I criss-crossed my arms and applied pressure.

And prayed that the doctor wouldn't walk in at that moment.

But he did.

And he was a dermatologist. A young one. Most certainly lacking in experience with this sort of thing. And he cluelessly, but very politely, introduced himself to me and extended his hand.

At which point I began to extend my own hand, realized the predicament I was in, and then uttered one of those statements that you're better off not anticipating ever having to say:

"I'm sorry, I'd shake your hand, but, well, I'm nursing and my baby is in the waiting room and um, it's time for her to eat, and well, my hands are kind of wet right now...."

Oh, the horror.

I wish I had a picture of the awkward/embarrassed/horrified look on that dermatologist's face at that moment. I'd post it right here, I really would.

But I don't, so instead, over the next several days, I'll be posting a handful of the most recent weird sentences that I never thought I'd hear myself say. They're not all as embarrassing as the one I just shared, thank God, but interesting or amusing in their own way.

If you've got any good ones of your own, please do share. It's rather liberating, I must say.

Make This. Make This Today.

Last week I promised you a sandwich, so a sandwich I will give you.

And oh my oh my, what a sandwich it is.

It doesn't really have a name because I made it up (after stealing ideas from a bunch of different recipes), so I'll call it the Gotta Sandwich. Because you gotta make it and then you gotta eat it and then you gotta dream about it until you make it again. Or you could call it something like a Chicken Pesto Panini. But that would be boring.

Here's what it looks like:


(That's a caesar salad in the background, which I personally think made a very nice little sidekick for this sandwich)

Here's what you'll need to make it:

1. Chicken, cooked & cut up into bite-sized pieces
(I used those little boneless chicken tenders & cooked them in a skillet with a little olive oil)
2. Pesto sauce
(I used a dry creamy pesto mix from a packet)
3. Red onions & red bell pepper, sliced & sauteed until tender (I may have thrown in a clove or two of garlic, but I really don't remember. That sounds like something I would do.)
4. Fresh tomato
5. Fresh baby spinach
6. Meunster cheese
(I'm sure other kinds would work fine too, but meunster is soooooo gooooood)
7. Focaccia bread of your choice

And here's how to put it all together:

1. Cut the focaccia into whatever size and shape you'd like your sandwich to be, split it if necessary, and then spread a little mayo on each piece.

2. Toss the cut up chicken pieces into the pesto sauce and give it all a good stir so your chicken is nice & coated. Or drowning, as in my case.

3. Build your sandwich. From the bottom up, I put bread, pesto covered chicken, grilled onions & peppers, fresh tomato & spinach, cheese, and then the top piece of bread.

4. Grill your sandwich until all is melty and wonderful. Some people have fancy panini presses. I personally have a cast iron skillet and a good strong spatula for mashing. I melted a tablespoon or two of butter into my skillet, put in the sandwich, and smashed it down every so often for about 2 minutes. Then I threw in another bit of butter, flipped the sandwich over, scooted it around to distribute the butter, and then smashed it down some more for another few minutes.

5. Eat your sandwich. Receive compliments from your family about your sandwich.

6. Rest contentedly in the fact that, while there are times in life when we must explore the deep and meaningful struggles of the human condition, there are other times when we must explore sandwiches. Especially really really good sandwiches.

Later Today...

Sandwiches!!

But first, a visit to the dentist and a trip to the grocery store.

(And just so you know, once you make these sandwiches, you will thank me forever. I promise.)

Sandwiches

I must confess that I've been putting off posting an update since Kaylee's colonoscopy and surprise hospital stay last week.

Frankly, I'm still sorting out my feelings about a lot of things, and I'd really much rather post about something less personal and introspective. Like sandwiches. I'd definitely be much more comfortable talking about sandwiches.

Why is that?

I think it's the same reason that I like happy shallow movies like The Wedding Planner and I absolutely will not watch deep, emotionally stirring movies like The Notebook. (Which, by the way, positively horrifies a lot of people who really love movies like The Notebook. Really. I've been practically kicked out of some female circles for that one. And I've also been the subject of an evil plot to trick me into watching it under the pretense of being given a pedicure.)

So while I think my little avoidance of emotional issues is perfectly fine for movies, I suppose that in real life it is necessary and unavoidable to deal with the yucky stuff and move forward. But I would like to officially go on record as saying I do not like it, not one bit.

(Here's where I would insert some line from Green Eggs & Ham if I could remember it...but you get the idea.)

So, in my effort to be a mature grown up, I will tell you all about what happened last Thursday...

After they wheeled Kaylee out to do the procedure, we had to go wait in a waiting room with a bunch of other people waiting for colonoscopy patients. After about an hour and a half, when she was back in the recovery room, a nurse came and got us and took us to Kaylee, whowas trying to wake up from general anesthesia. Since six-year-olds are not common in this particular recovery room, there are about 3 nurses for about 20 patients, so we were pretty much on our own with Kaylee. She was disoriented and sleepy, and we were talking to her and trying to help her wake up. About 5 or 10 minutes of this, the doctor came over.

He proceeded to tell us, in his soft-spoken and thickly accented way, that he saw a lesion and he wasn't sure what it was. He called in a few other doctors and they didn't know what it was. He tells us it was bleeding a lot after he passed the scope by it, so he ended the colonoscopy without seeing everything. He asks if Kaylee's ever had problems with bleeding. He tells us he wants to keep her overnight. He says something about a hemagioma but he's not sure. That he wants to do a lot of bloodwork and a CT scan. I ask a few questions about when's and how's and whether we can give Kaylee something to drink because her throat is sore from the breathing tube. He says a lot of "I'm not sure" and "Not yet" and then walks away.

At this point, I am starting to cry and simultaneously feeling like I am going to throw up and I can't really breathe and that the room just got 30 degrees hotter. I firmly believe that if there hadn't been a chair nearby for me to sit on and compose myself, I might have fainted, fallen over, cracked my head open, and given Jeremy a whole lot more to deal with right at that moment.

So over the course of the next few hours, we did a lot of waiting, plenty of praying, as much question asking as possible in 3 minute interviews with the doctor, and tearful explaining to a crying (and still somewhat groggy) six year old why we couldn't go home and go to McDonald's like we had promised.

After everything, it was determined that Kaylee might have a hemangioma in her colon which is the cause of the bleeding she's been having and unrelated to the polyp they removed last summer, which was also bleeding. The first set of results of the coagulation study came back fine, but some results will take several weeks. The plan for now is that we are going to give the mystery lesion several weeks to heal & wait for the full results of the coagulation study. Then Kaylee's doctor will do another colonoscopy, with a surgeon present, to try to determine exactly what is going on.

Those are the facts. Now the hard part...fessing up to my feelings on all of this.

If I am perfectly honest, I must admit that I am struggling with the fact that there are so many things in our life right now that are up in the air. We have been doing an awful lot of waiting lately, and the list of unresolved problems seems to be getting longer and not shorter. That's hard for me to accept.

I like certainty and answers, preferably easy answers.

I like minimal suspense and quick resolution.

I like happy endings.

I do not like when the people who are supposed to have answers do not have any answers.

I do not like the way my imagination begins to wander among the possibilities and create answers that scare the daylights out of me.

I do not like the way it feels to be uncertain and afraid.

I do not like crying in front of people (especially the very uncomfortable man at the hospital whose job it is to move gurneys from one place to another or the man at the Guatemalan consulate who told me he couldn't do our papers in one day).

And yet, God has us in this place. And He has reasons for it and is asking us to trust Him in it, and He promises that He will bring something good out of it.

So we walk forward, leaning on the truth of verses like these from Isaiah 43:

But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
"Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned;
the flames will not set you ablaze.

For I am the LORD, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior...

and

Do not be afraid, for I am with you;
I will bring your children from the east
and gather you from the west.

I will say to the north, 'Give them up!'
and to the south, 'Do not hold them back.'
Bring my sons from afar
and my daughters from the ends of the earth-

everyone who is called by my name,
whom I created for my glory,
whom I formed and made."

and

"You are my witnesses," declares the LORD,
"and my servant whom I have chosen,
so that you may know and believe me
and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed,
nor will there be one after me.

I, even I, am the LORD,
and apart from me there is no savior.

I have revealed and saved and proclaimed—
I, and not some foreign god among you.
You are my witnesses," declares the LORD, "that I am God."

Now I have fulfilled my responsibility to be honest and act like a grown up, and so if you don't mind, my next post is most definitely going to be about sandwiches.

More Prayers Please

Remember last summer when Kaylee had to have a procedure done to find and remove a polyp from her large intestine?

Well, her symptoms seem to have returned, so tomorrow she will be having a full colonoscopy to see what else is going on. The most likely possibility is another polyp, which is probably not a very big deal. Some of the more unlikely possibilities involve lots of other polyps, which can be a big deal and indicate a strong possibility of colon cancer in the future. I think you know what we're praying for....

For Divine comfort for Kaylee during a scary procedure, for a safe and smooth procedure, and for good results & final resolution of this problem.

And keep up those prayers for Israel...it's looking like we may be in for a wait for the birth certificate. Waiting is not exactly our favorite thing, or Israel's, so pray that we'll be done sooner than we think.

We ask for a lot of prayers on this blog, but we've seen them work, so we keep asking!!

Thanks!