Thursday, October 31, 2013
I will, however, confess that I have slept in my painting sweat shirt, worn red socks with my moccasins, have not worn make up for three days and haven't a clue what is in the pile of papers by the phone.
On the other hand, I have multiple mini canvases, cards, prints and new 12x12 paintings ready for the show this Saturday. In case I haven't mentioned it (ha), it's the Red Dirt Art Festival from 10-4, in the small park behind the old police building in Redlands.
O.k. Enough of the shameless marketing. I have to go change my socks.
Thursday, October 24, 2013
Monday, October 21, 2013
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Sometimes life can take a little left turn.
On two wheels.
One is left humbled. And beyond grateful. A little tired but oh, so grateful.
My husband woke me up at 2 am on Wednesday morning asking if we had anymore Gas-X. We did not and I offered to go get some for him, which he declined. I fell back asleep. He woke me up at 5:00 a.m. and said he needed to go to the emergency room, something wasn't right. I offered to drive him, but he again declined and I think he said something about not wanting to wake up Brenna.
He called at 6:00 and said after a Cat Scan and blood work, it was probably a kidney stone, he was in good hands and had some pain killers on board. I got up and got ready, got Brenna ready for her all school retreat and drove her up to the campground. I got her settled, figured out her buddies, her room and all the little details of sending my child off with her school for three days.
I realized my husband hadn't called so, on my way out of the campground I called him and said, "What's up?" Thinking he had passed a kidney stone by now I was completely thrown when he told me they were asking for a surgery consult.
Racing to the E.R., hoping to get there before the consult, I got to his room as he was talking with a friend (who is a surgeon) on the phone about bowel obstructions and surgery.
The next thing I knew, the surgeon was in the room telling us and the staff that we had to move quickly and there was "just a small window of time" he had to do surgery.
By this time I am thinking I am watching a very strange play unfold and I'm not really liking the story line. I would prefer to leave the theater and not even worry about getting my money back for the tickets.
In the blink of an eye - or rather a lot of grimacing pain, They rolled my husband into surgery.
Twenty four hours later, he is missing eight inches of his small intestines and has gone through a resection. He gets up like a woman after a hysterectomy and our biggest prayer today is that he starts, how shall I put it? "Passing wind." No small feat when your intestines have been pulled apart and staples back together.
I'm not really sure how to continue the story from here. Honestly? We had just spent time with some a couple who are dear, dear friends of ours. The husband has been diagnosed with Ocular melanoma. We came back after the visit and talked for a long time about papers that are in order, how much we love each other and pretty much broke down and cried for our friends. Two days later we are staring at each other wondering if that time of talking together was somewhat prophetic. I took a long, long walk today, feeling like we have skirted a horror story by the skin of our teeth. Thinking thoughts about Grace. That we all get grace, every single one of us. But maybe, could we share ours with our friends? Thinking thoughts along the lines of how is it that if our hope is Heaven, we spend so much time banging down the the doors praying and pleading to have more life here?
All I can come up with is that life is incredibly fragile and once I think I have control over it, I have done a fabulous job of pulling the wool over my eyes.
That, and the recognition that all we have is now. Just this moment. Then we get the next. And so on. And the realization of that is a gift because today,I want to be able to cement that in my mind.
So, right now, I watch my sweet husband give into pain killers and fall asleep, exhausted by the afternoon of walking three laps around the unit, brushing his teeth and visiting with some friends and colleagues.
And I am grateful.
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