Bringing the Bonfire Indoors

While growing up in the country gives one a life of peace and quiet, it also limits the number of neighbors and therefore friends, to play with on a regular basis. This lifestyle did allow my brother and I time to develop a very close friendship which I am proud to say, remains to this day.

He and I were not perfect kids by any means, but we did grow up to respect our parents and “usually” made the right decisions. BUT…..there  were those times when we acted more “normal,” and should have been watched with eagle eyes. Let me share with you one of those times…

When I was about three years old my bright red hair fell far down my back. My brother; two and a half years older,  watched his little “sizzer” while playing in the house quite often. On this occasion, he and I were playing in the family room which was at the far end of our ranch-style home while our parents were watching television in the living room, only three rooms away. Our family room was a converted garage, which made it a terrific play area for anything from box games to nerf ball wars to sleep overs! It was built complete with a fireplace where we often roasted “wieners” and made s’mores.

In order to set the stage for this story, imagine if you will, two fast-learning children watching as their dad built fires on a metal grate by placing wood on top and rolling up newspapers which were then stuffed underneath the grate. When everything was in place, he would strike a match and light the paper, allowing the flames to shoot up from beneath the logs causing an even fire.

On this day the fire was already going in order to keep the room warm. Who knows what started my brother and I playing with the newspapers stacked on the floor and eventually rolling them up like swords, prepared for battle. Eventually one of us came up with the brilliant idea to “do as  we had seen” and thrust a sword into the fireplace. Of course the other sibling mimicked this new game allowing both of us to have a flaming sword to wave around inside the house!

I recall watching the burning paper as it eventually detached itself from the ends and floated through the air, finally landing on the nylon carpet, causing a charred black spot wherever it landed. Our play continued with more swords being formed, but as time went on, we found that if we ran the lighted ends along the carpet, as if drawing lines in sand, the black, crusty marks left behind were long and thin. We danced, giggled, and played until we looked up and….standing in the doorway, was our Mother.

She just stood there, silent. As an adult I now know all of the “what ifs” that were rendering her speechless. When she finally found words, all she managed to say was, “Ohhh, you’ve burned your Daddy’s rug.

When Dad arrived on the scene, he sent us to our rooms. We were there for quite a while before he appeared, first to talk to my brother and then with me. He had waited to give himself time to calm his fears of what could have just happened to his family. I do not know what was discussed with my brother, but I do remember him being in more trouble only because he was older. My Dad explained to me how very dangerous our choices had been and how easily my long hair could have caught fire before he also paddled me. Our rear ends were hotter than that fire ever was!

Some would say the punishment fit the crime, while others would shake their heads and judge my father for whipping us.  What I will tell you, coming from one who was punished, I still stand behind my Dad. Yes, my parents were “paddlers,” but only during rare times. We were never abused or beaten. Rather, our parents loved us enough to always be there…..to guide and direct us whenever necessary and to celebrate success at every chance there was while we were growing up.

If we choose to have children we have a huge obligation to guide and direct them so they not only know right from wrong, but so they choose right OVER wrong. As parents we do not have to paddle our children, but we must have a reward / punishment system plainly set. Children must realize there are lines which can not be crossed. We as their parents have chosen to be their best guides as well as their greatest fans.

I will be forever grateful to my parents who were always there, through thick and thin. I have principles and morals because of the sacrifices they chose to make while raising me. Sure I was never pleased with them when I was on the receiving end of being grounded or told what I was/was not going to do, but one thing I know to this day……They’ll always have my back!

Spend a day with my family…..you’ll find it hard to find a stronger love anywhere.

A Rumble in the Jungle

Choosing to always take the peaceful path works well in thought, but usually not in reality.  It’s not the things in plain sight which can trip you up such as rocks and branches, but the unthought of menaces such as poison ivy, sunburn, or even pesky mosquitos that sometimes make for a less desirable stroll.

For those of you who know me, many have lovingly chosen to rally together and walk along on this most current adventure. For those just joining this wagon train, allow me to catch you up. About a month ago an elephant decided to cause a “rumble in the jungle” when, through a colonoscopy, I was diagnosed with colorectal cancer. Needless to say, hearing those words made me feel as if I’d walked face first, into an enormous hornets’ nest.

The doctors worked at record speed to conduct the myriad of tests necessary prior to planning my treatment regiment. Lots of expected blood work took place, but from there I was not sure what was going to occur. A CATscan was conducted one afternoon and a PETscan (total body) another, followed by more blood work, and an ultrasound. Through these series of tests the doctors were able to share good news with my family and me. The cancer is only at stage two; although it has spread to the lymph nodes, it is still contained in the rectal region; and that means it has not touched my liver. Praises all around the bonfire!!!

After climbing this first hill, it is time to plateau for several weeks during chemo and radiology. My chemo is taken by mouth….three pills each morning and four at night (Monday through Thursday). My radiation treatments run the same days, and only last for fifteen minutes from beginning to end. The chemo and radiation combination are meant to shrink and kill the cancer as much as possible.  I have six different drivers counting my daughter and brother. The other four are friends of mine who have made the drive to Indy and back a time for much needed girl talk!

The Cancer Center in Indianapolis has only loving, caring people working there who meet cancer “head on!” Everyone I deal with is very genuine and believes in miracles from above, backing up my gut feeling I am on the right path. The machine which delivers  my radition is enormous, but an open contraption allowing the extremely hard table I must lay on to roll into place each time. Face down, my neck arches up then my abdomen has a hollowed-out area in which it lays in while my hips must angle back up toward the machine. Just as my thighs begin the slope back down toward the table, a pillow under my ankles causes my feet to be elevated. Fifteen minutes isn’t long when I allow my mind to drift, to pray, to dream….but the headaches and backaches developing from the odd angles and from tensing up do not let up until Friday nights. Hopefully this coming week I will find a relaxation technique!

All of my weekly doctor’s appointments, as well as blood work are scheduled around my treatment times….like clockwork. One wonderful blessing is knowing the staff is always there for their patients! If I am there and have a question, they work me in to speak to someone. Last week I was dealing with a horrible migraine. When I mentioned it, I was immediately placed in an exam room and quickly joined by a nurse. I was not allowed to leave until she had found someone who not only answered my questions, but found a medication that would relieve the pain. This all being so scary, I have had important questions over the weekends and at night. After calling the Center and leaving a message, one of MY doctors has called me back within a few minutes. Apologizing for interrupting their time off, each one replied by letting me know they are here for me. How comforting!

This six week excursion will be followed by a short rest halfway up the next hill. From there my friends and loved ones, I will be facing a tricky surgery to rid my body of this unwanted “visitor” once and for all…..like pulling a thorn from my heel to continue on.

I’ve had help from professionals to be prepared, and I’ve  packed my red rubber boots in case of rain, but what’s so different about this adventure??? This time, through positive thoughts, healing prayers, and much heartfelt love….I have others who have offered to carry me on their shoulders to the top of this summit.

Isn’t it grand just knowing the “Son”will rise, and we will once again feel the warmth of His love upon us as we face another day….together.

A Happy Little Camper😎

I’ve traveled the country, thanks to my parents who took our family camping in a different state each summer during my childhood years. After many years of packing and unpacking a tent, they decided to sell some land in order to purchase a trailer. It was nice, especially during storms, to have the safety of a “hard-shelled building” to sleep in.

When I married, my love for seeing the country continued, but financially we couldn’t afford unneccessary luxuies, so we borrowed a 12-man tent for our honeymoon!  I didn’t mind at all….I was in my element! As time passed, we eventually bought a tent of our own and we enjoyed the outdoors together. Several years later I was presented with said tent in our divorce.

Im proud to say it didn’t stay in storage very long. When my daughter was only two years old, she and I set off on our own adventures. We always set up camp in state parks and made sure we were back at our site by nightfall. Anytime we traveled we always put our safety first.

One summer as I was packing the car, I noticed a man sitting in his lawn chair keeping an eye on my technique. I was puzzled by the fact he seemed so mesmerized. When his wife walked over to him for the third time and asked if he was ready to head to the falls and he replied again, “We’ll leave in a little bit,” I was confused, but continued to work. He then moved his chair to gain a better view of the trunk of my vehicle.

I continued. I must add here that I am not one to go camping and leave anything we might need at home. If we are going to stay for three weeks, we take what we need, plus a little extra. Remember, I have been a camper all my life.

Here’s my list:

In our Buick Regal I had a four-man tent; two cots; under the bed plastic totes to keep our clothes dry (instead of suitcases) which stayed under our cots; a large tub to hold our sheets, pillowcases, and towels (which doubled as the nightstand for our lantern, alarm clock, etc…); a small tub for games, paper, and the like; a doormat; two canopies (to cover our “yard” from harsh sun and rain; lawn chairs; and several milk crates which contained our dishes, electric cords for everything from lights to electric skillet to a single burner…..and on to tablecloths, clothesline and pins, etc…; first aide kit, pillows, and, of course, food and coolers. (Okay, and other odds and ends!)

When the last item had been placed in the car, and my daughter and I were checking for any trash that needed to be picked up before we left, I overheard our audience of one tell his wife he was ready to go. She questioned him about the wait, and looking over at me, he replied, “I HAD to know if she actually got everything back in her car!” Laughing, the mystery solved, I shouted over, “Oh, I purchased our car from Mary Poppins!”

The couple walked over to wish us safe travels, and it was then I shared my secret with them. I always draw a map of my car as we pack to leave home so that, three weeks later, I am able to execute repacking without frustration.

I can imagine some of you are laughing, some believe me crazy, and others have decided I am far too anal to enjoy a vacation. Let me assure you that whenever I travel, everything…..and I mean every detail…..has been thought out prior to leaving home. With my checklist completed, everything packed in its’ spot, and my map in my glovebox, there’s no worry we will be returning without stress as well.

Take my advice…..don’t spoil your vacation with summer quickly approaching……do the brainwork now and leave stress on your doorstep. Don’t pack it in one of your bags. Once I leave my driveway my vacations are the most relaxed, most spontaneous, and definitely the most worry-free get-aways ever.

 

When we slip off the bank….

Walking along the creek in our little woods following a great deal of rain and finding a slick spot in the mud, would always send me sliding down the side of a short, but often steep hill right into the creek at the bottom. That’s why my mom always saw to it that I wore a pair of bright red rubber boots. They were the kind with the elastic loop at the top which I pulled across my leg and around a little plastic button to secure. I pulled them over my Keds sneakers, and they kept me perfectly dry. Oh how I loved those boots!

Whenever I found myself standing in the water, I would grab for the tall grass on the bank and start pulling my feet out of the muddy ooze. I can still hear the “slurp” sound my boots made as, one at a time, they were set free.  After making my way back to the top of the hill, I would notice the burrs stuck tight to my sweater and the mud on my knees, but I didn’t care, I was back on top and on my way!

What an unrealistic idea to believe we will never have rain in our lives….even storms.

Over the course of the past few months a monsoon has seemed to have moved across Indiana and landed over me…not too much unlike the rain cloud often seen in cartoons, drifting overhead of only one character.

My parents had been dealing with some health issues, and it was decided I should move in for a while to help. When the time came for me to begin moving back to my own home, I wasn’t in a huge hurry, so I traveled between the two dwellings. One evening I decided to stay at what became known as my “summer home” (MY house), so I walked up to the back door and noticing something wasn’t quite right, I looked closer, only to see in the streetlight one of my windows had been broken. It had happened….after living in my place for 23 years, someone had broken in!

The anger that bubbld up just knowing someone had decided they had the right not only to enter my home uninvited, but also help themselves to anything they wanted was an emotion I had to overcome in the following weeks as the list of missing items grew and nothing was found. Late that same night, after working on my missing items’ list, I walked to the refrigerator for a much needed glass of wine. Upon opening the door all I could do was stand there with my mouth gaping open. The burglar had decided to open a bottle of wine, drink it, place the cork on a paper towel beside the bottle (thanks for being tidy!), and place the empty bottle back on the shelf!

Life finally returned to normal and once again I began to come and go from my home without concern. About three weeks later I returned home only to discover my back door had been blown apart. I knew the drill…..the police were called again, and after making sure it was safe to enter, I followed the officer back in. It didn’t make any sense….everything was gone from the first break in,  but this time my home was destroyed. Doors were ripped off closets, entire bookshelves were emptied, drawers were dumped. You get the picture…..the redecorator had returned.

Finding blood splattered in different places of my house threw this germ-a-phob into hysterics! The police officer was thrilled and did his CSI work while I was totally creeped out. Finding it on my favorite quilt, I gave the officer permission to remove the soiled section. He commented on how nice the quilt was, and my only reply was “I’m not going to sleep on it again..Take the entire thing!”

Walking back downstairs the officer asked if I knew anyone I could call to come board up my door. I recall looking at him and saying, “At this hour? It is far to late to call anyone.” He paused and then continued by explaining I could not stay in my house without a back door. My blank stare spurred him on to ask if I knew J.A…..My reply was “Oh yes! Isn’t he nice? I’ve known him forever.” Giving me a sympathetic look which I now recognize as him realizing I was in shock, he offered to make the call for me.

After that night it was no longer anger, but fear which began to take over inside me. With my house having been boarded up on the outside, a pile of trash bags stacking up on the inside…..and a sign stuck in the yard which read “Hot Mess!,” I became afraid to even walk in my house without first walking all the way around the outside to check every window and every door. I wanted every light on and every bedroom door open….every curtain pulled….and alarms everywhere. My life became nothing, but unrealistic fear.

The police continued to stop by and reassured me they had captured the man who had been breaking into homes around town, but I couldn’t let go of the fact a stranger had been in MINE….and had taken everything…and remember, he’d even drank my favorite wine!

One afternoon while sorting I heard a knock at the door. I was met by a young man who was walking from house to house in an effort to drum up business for a new construction company. He asked if I had thought about having any doors or windows replaced. At first I looked at him without speaking….then I broke into uncontrolled (and much needed) laughter. The look on his face told me he was clueless…..so I played Vanna White showing him the window and door he was standing beside which were completely boarded up! As embarrassed as his face proved him to be…..that’s how completely relieved I finally felt.

After that day, through much prayer and many sleepless nights, I somehow mustered up the courage to get on with my life. I came to realize that, although everyTHING was gone, I had a wealth of treasures left untouched. No one was injured…my pets were safe…there would be no sorting for a spring garage sale!…I would have fewer things to sweep around and dust!….the list of positives was growing.  I was fine, the door and window were repaired….my house was on its was to being Back to normal again….

The storm, no matter how fierce, had passed. I may have stepped in that slick spot and ended up in the creek once again, and I may have found it necessary to grab the tall grass…..but I had made it back to the top of the hill…..

…once again thrilled to be wearing those bright red rubber boots!

 

At the entrance of the woods…

Growing up I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by family who taught me the importance of enjoying a simple walk be it across a cornfield, beside a pond, down a dirt road, or my favorite…in a woods. It is there I am able to let go of the struggles life often hands me and discover a truly inner peace, found only while “frolicking among the foliage.”

Whether you’ve stumbled across this page just now or you were led here by word of mouth, you’ve discovered someone (me) who is ready to share life stories in a new way. My experiences, I’m sure, aren’t so different from anyone else’s, but the way in which I view them, learn from them, and the stories which build from them, I promise will be a unique read.

So since you’re here, why not walk with me for a little while into the coolness of the shade trees, where the breeze blows gently and the desire to listen while looking through the branches…..with your eyes closed and a smile on your face, as you feel the warmth of the sun filtering down..

I promise you stories……Some will bring tears, others uproarious laughter, and all will bring us closer together as family, friends, and readers.

Welcome to my life……