life with my dog

Delsie sleeps in a toddler bed next to me. For whatever reason, I have been going through a phase of relishing who she has become in my life. This plays out with the number of photos I take of her (I have been called "mom-arrozi") or laugh hysterically when she does something funny or even shed tears when I reflect on the support she gives me in life. Last night was no exception as I tucked her in bed and said our prayers. These can be heard as something like this, "I love you, Delsiemeister. I am so glad you are in my life. (massaging her) Give mommy some lovin'. (she rolls her eyes and licks my face) Aw, thank you tootie. You love your mommy? (no response) Cuz your mommy loves you." At this point she has checked out and I plug in my chair and climb into bed. It's a ritual. And I am sure about now you are reading in disbelief and maybe chuckling while shaking your head. I am okay with that because there are things that happen in my life that cause me to react this way as well...
like the other night...
now that the weather has been nicer, Delsie and I go for a lot of walks. On this particular walk, I heard the engine of a diesel truck over my blaring iPod parked on the opposite side of the road. When Delsie and I were parallel to the truck, a slender gentleman in running shorts and a sweaty t-shirt opened the car door. He was walking towards us and because of Jack Johnson bellowing in my ears, I couldn't make out what he was saying. I stopped and removed my earphones from my ears.
"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you."
He handed me a business card that had a name (apparently his) , address, phone number-cell and home, email and fax number.
"I am not selling anything. I saw you last year and just wanted you to know you're an inspiration."
Even now, as I re-live this encounter, I am shaking my head and chuckling.

He likes to email people so I would be happy to pass on your email address to him if he should stop me again.

...you can stop chuckling now...

let summer begin

work day is not official until Dickie adorns his "onsie".

Sometimes in life I need to take a breath and inhale deeply, taking it all in. And today was one of those days even though I had to set my alarm for 6:15 AM. It was worth lack of sleep and getting dressed in the dark, as once again, my parents small group invested in the community wide "Plunge" at my house for four hours. From painting walls, doors;cleaning windows; hauling out my deck furniture; trimming bushes; placing my flower box and cleaning my garage...my cup overflows.

he's some dad...

We are all someones child. Facts like this one are simple yet universal. We all come from a mom and a dad. Stop and think about it. It's rather bizarre. And this "simple" fact makes us all quite complicated, suffice it to say, a bit messed up. No one is spared from this. It's true. All of us have a dad.

And my dad turned 70 yesterday. 7-0. Typing those numbers made me shudder a bit. 70 is old. But my dad isn't. He never will be.

Today we had a surprise party for him with our family at McDonalds playland. You would have thought he entered the gates of heaven when he opened the door to find us all adorned with party hats and blowers. I, personally, would describe this with another word that starts with "H" but it warmed this southern mans heart.

As I think on my circle of friends, I know part of their story includes their dad. Some died way too soon, some are making poor choices, some are rejecting them, some are loving them, some are just angry, some are fighting cancer, some are working a lot, some are married over and over, some are not even known and some just turned 70.

Happy Birthday, Dad.

You are loved.

"I'll get you my pretty!"

I pride myself on having a brain. I love to be challenged in my thinking. I am one of those weird people who enjoyed school. Not the demands and pressures of studying for tests but the way it made me process. It made my brain work. My friend Jeremy has decided to go back to school and I often feel jealous that he is writing a paper or even studying. He has a goal. He is challenged. He is hopeful for a good grade. He is in company with scholars. I just listen and recognize my brain is turning to mush. It’s much simpler to turn the power button on the remote control for the TV or stuff my ears with my iPod earphones while relating to the scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz, “If I Only Had a Brain”.

We often hear the expression, “three times and you’re out!”I have had my fair share of attempts at a good swing these past few days and my plastic bat is not even hitting the wiffle ball.

Yesterday in church I was catching up with a friend. I was asking how his wife is feeling as he told me she is hopeful to give birth the second week of May.

“Oh, that’s so exciting!”

“Yea, but we’re thinking she is going to go early.”

“Really?”

“Yea, we’re shootin’ for a Cinco De Mayo baby.”

“Oh yea, when’s that?” said with a straight face, mind you.

Strike One!

My friend Jo and I were riding in an elevator. This is a necessity at times when you're wheelchair bound. After the doors closed shut, we were both staring at the buttons trying to figure out what floor we were on and which one we had to move to.

Jo asked, “What does the star mean that is by this number?”

I replied (again, with a straight face), “It tells us what floor you’re on.”

Strike Two!

This morning as I was getting ready for work, I almost finished my morning ritual. A couple of squirts of my favorite perfume that a friend gave me, completes my routine. I typically head out to the kitchen to let Delsie outside. That is, if I am pointing the nozzle of the perfume to squirt on my neck and not directly in my left eye!

Strike Three!

So, the scarecrow and I have more in common than just difficulty in walking. Not a whole lot going on in that “noggin’” of mine these days. Maybe I should attempt to study for a PhD…”If I Only Had a Brain.”

ants in my pants.

The sun is deceiving today. It produced this anxiousness in me to get outside with a longing for the warmth of the sun to penetrate in my stiff, cold bones. It didn't happen. I jumped the gun.

Kind of like the time in LA when visiting my friend, Tiffany. We were excited to visit her favorite coffee shop one day. In LA, locations are never a hop-skip-and a jump away and this cute hangout was no exception.

Our anxiousness was a detour ant as we realized once we found a parking spot across the street and unloaded the scooter(a pleasant gift trying to park in California) that we had forgotten the key to get the scooter to move.

Poor Tiff made the commute back home in LA traffic to pick up the key we left behind on the kitchen counter.

In hopes of reminding myself of the warmth of the California sun after returning from a brisk walk in Michigan this afternoon, I scrolled through my photos of LA.

I laughed at this memory but acknowledged my tendency to jump the gun in my life when things don't seem to be happening the way I want them too. It is obvious that I am anxious waiting for His plan to be revealed in my life- not my plan.

Psalm 25:3 "No one whose hope is in you will ever be put to shame, but they will be put to shame who are treacherous without excuse."

There is no excuse when I "jump the gun."

Ready. Set. WAIT.

strangers.

We were complete strangers. That is, until this weird, invasive and all encompassing thing called Ataxia entered our lives. (Which, by the way, was not invited.) We all wanted this "guest" to know that although it had invaded our lives, it was not going to control us. It is strange how something so awful, so obtrusive can be the very thing that "ties the bind". (I seriously have no idea what that expression means but it sounds right) Ataxia is a common thread in our lives but it is not who we are. Ironically, without the diagnosis, I would never have loved Becky and Deb like I do now. We wouldn't talk for hours over decaf coffee or order KFC and eat at the beach, laugh at our failed attempts at love or cry together knowing this intruder of Ataxia robbed the life of someone we loved.

All of us were strangers.

Or what about the stranger who saw me stuck in my driveway during one of the many blizzards this winter when I attempted to roll my trash can out to the curb? He must have spotted me and turned his truck around, only to push my 300 lb. wheelchair in the garage. I hardly uttered the words "thank-you" when he hopped back in the cab of his truck and drove off.

He was a stranger to me.

Last month I attended a funeral of an older man, Fred, who died of cancer. Fred touched my life. He loved Jesus and everyone who knew him, knew that. We shared many conversations on the phone, some that lasted more than an hour, before he died. I grew from Fred's wisdom and admired his faith. I miss our talks. I sat in the back pew in the chapel for his funeral. I sat next to a lady I had never met before. Fred's songs he chose to be sung at his funeral hit me hard. I wept. I couldn't control it. The lady next to me gently placed her hand on top of mine and squeezed some love into me, reminding me it was going to be okay.

She was a stranger.

I flew out to California last month. And my flight out there was delayed. This made my layover in the Minnesota airport a total of 5 minutes. No small feat for a girl on a scooter that has speed of a tortoise, with a service dog that poops in the carpeted terminal and has to go the distance from gate A to gate Z. Fortunately, the plane waited for us. The ENTIRE 757. I discovered that my seat was GA- the middle of the aircraft. It was at that point when a man seated in the aisle seat of first class tapped me on the shoulder and said, "have my seat, I'll take yours." He wouldn't take no for an answer and proceeded down the airplane. Miles down to seat GA. So there I sat in first class and treated like a queen.

A gift from a stranger.

So maybe my life is filled with unique situations but I am not convinced, as I once was, that we are surrounded by strangers. These people tell me otherwise, in those divine moments, they became my friends.

...because.

I have neglected my blog for an entire month. There is no excuse or nothing that has occupied my time as a distraction to not journal during February. I am sure, like the rest of you who live in the North, I could spend ample time complaining about the winter and how the cold and grey lent itself to my lack of motivation, but I will refrain. We all know how awful it was without me dwelling on the negative. So, I will press on.
Just like this note that was included with this flower on my front step...it's a reminder of the "because" in my life. We all have them. Because I am single, I can sleep in whenever I want. (then why was I up at 6:48 AM?!) Because, I love hard, I hurt hard. Because I love to laugh, I choose to hang out with funny people. Because where I live has no sun, I tan in a machine. Because I have a disability, I have a service dog. Because I have nine nieces and nephews, I am an aunt. Because I love Jesus, I belong.

This gift this winter was my "because". I'll keep going. Because of the "be causes". They may not make sense, some feel good, some hurt...a lot. But I'll keep going...just because.