Minivan Moments

Most of us with MALS ( Median Arcuate Ligament Syndrome , also known as Celiac Artery Compression Syndrome) got so sick that when we were finally diagnosed, we were seriously grateful to not feel crazy anymore. After years of unexplained malnourishment, pain, and fatigue, the medical community actually presented us with a fix, albeit a serious one: open abdominal surgery. Surgery for MALS is a big deal. It is similar in procedure to an Abdominal Aortic Aneurism (AAA) repair - and in fact, some folks with MALS end up with aneurisms that need repairing - but with the added trauma of clipping the median arcuate ligament back to the spine (which involves lifting and spreading the ribcage - ouch!), and snipping a bunch of damaged nerves that are part of the largest nerve bundle in the autonomic nervous system and innervate most of the digestive tract (the celiac ganglion). Once all that happens, and surgical recovery gets less hellish (and it is ROUGH), it's on to phase 2: tea

We're taught when we're young that the rings in a tree's stump can be used to determine the age of the tree. Additionally, the size of the rings can tell us about the climate during that period of growth, such as wide bands indicating a warm, wet season of growth or a narrow band marking a drought. Further, the shade of the ring can tell us the period of the year the growth took place; for example, a lighter ring indicates the spring/early summer growth period and a darker ring, a late summer/fall growth period. Those rings tell quite a story about what that tree has become, what it has been through, and what the conditions were during the tree's growth. Fascinatingly, there are even scars left behind if the tree survived a fire! The funny thing is, though, that you can't really tell any of that about a tree until it's been cut. ( Okay, technically, you can use a special instrument called an "increment borer" to remove a segment of a live tree

Did you know that grandmothers are born? The very first grandbaby creates the grandmother. It's the natural order of things. A grandbaby needs a grandmother to spoil, adore, and dote on her/him. It's in the rules. I became a grandmother 2 weeks ago. We knew for some time that my grandbaby might not make it to full term, that she had a lot to overcome in order to live outside the womb, but we loved her so much and could not imagine not having her here with us! Every day, we hoped, we prayed, we anticipated a joyous miracle. Every week, we looked for and longed to see changes that would indicate that she was getting better. That life outside the womb would become a reality, and we would all get to hold her, snuggle her, and make a lifetime of memories with her. However, that was not to be, and my first grandchild was delivered sleeping into this world. Our first meeting was bittersweet as we held her, aware that she had already flown to Heaven. Here in body, but absent in

Recently, The Littlest Drama Princess brought up a touchy topic. Now that she is almost a teenager, we have a lot of our deep conversations while riding together in the car, and I find it is easier to really connect during these moments of close quarters/low distraction. She must feel the same way, because she frequently brings up things that she's been pondering, and she protects that time in the car with ferocious determination (just ask her big sister!). 😉 On this particular day, she mentioned how she wished that being gay "didn't have to be such a thing." I asked some probing questions to get to the bottom of why she was saying that, and I discovered some interesting things that are likely quite typical of kids her age in today's cultural climate. "What's the big deal?" is essentially what she is asking. First, she doesn't see why homosexuals and celebrities and businesses make such a big deal about "gay pride." And she also

366 days ago, I felt as if the best years were behind me. I accepted that as my reality and went through the motions of life, doing the next thing, and trying to keep up with the work God gave me. I didn't really believe that I would ever be well again. It is still hard to say that out loud, but it was a quiet reality that I had come to terms with and didn't really talk about. Nobody really wants to talk about the hard stuff, ya know? Rainbows and unicorns, thank you very much! But 366 days ago, my reality was that I was grateful for the saving grace of Jesus Christ so that someday, I would be without pain. I lived for that. It got me through the hard days and kept me grounded. My hope was not of this world, but firmly rooted in the knowledge that this very broken body would not follow me into eternity. Then... 365 days ago, I was given a glimmer of a new hope. It was wrapped in a fair amount of terror, just to be honest, but it was hope nonetheless! And just a glim

Where we live, there are no mandated driving classes or schools for teens to learn how to drive. We parents have to commit to teaching them - and sign an affidavit stating that we have given our teens a certain number of daylight and nighttime driving experience. There is a minimum six months of driver training period for this instruction, and teens then take a behind-the-wheel driving test with a trained examiner. ( This person is very brave. ) Growing up in Northern Virginia, we had classroom instruction on the Do 's and Don't 's of driving during our sophomore year of high school, complete with rule book and videos. Then we took a behind-the-wheel course with licensed instructors. After we passed both, we were permitted to take the driver's test, which we also still needed to pass in order to be granted a driver's license. Things are sure different here in Tennessee, and it explains a lot of the driving issues and traffic incidents we see regularly around her

I'm going to be a grandma! I love babies, and toddlers, and children, and even teenagers most of the time. 😆 I've spent my whole life surrounded by children! My nickname is the Baby Whisperer! I mean, this is going to be awesome! What an exciting time for us, filled with hopes and dreams and baby things! Tiny shoes for tiny feet.  Tiny mittens for tiny hands.  Tiny diapers for tiny bottoms. Tiny clothes for tiny humans. Tiny everything ! I started thinking right away of how to rearrange my home to MAKE WAY FOR GRANDKIDS! What contraptions would I buy so that everything doesn't have to be lugged over when they visit? I began checking all the local resale sites for the big ticket items I knew we would need. I even started buying $10 Target giftcards here and there so that I would have money saved up to spoil the baby when it arrives.  👶👶👶👶👶👶👶 Then we discovered something was wrong with baby. That was a hard day. Watching my daughter deal

Ignorance is bliss. It's a common saying, and it is often true. For me, however, I prefer to know. I don't like surprises. I prefer to know the possiblities and plan accordingly. I'm neither an optimist nor a pessimist. I just kind of hang out in the neutral zone, gathering information, running possible scenarios, playing with potentials until I feel prepared for as many possibilities as I can imagine. Some people don't get it, and I've been told to just relax, not to worry, stop stressing, etc. As a Christian, I have even been told by well-meaning fellow-believers that if I'm worrying, I'm not trusting God. As I have gotten older, though, I have come to realize something: I'm not so much stressing about things as I am accommodating what I have learned is slow processing speed . I do not like to be caught off-guard because it takes me a little more time to make sense of things than a lot of people. I have learned, therefore, to think things throug

Childhood. Max: eighteen years. There is an expiration on childhood. A deadline . It's so short, but can feel so long while you are parenting the tough seasons . It's so easy to overlook an opportunity to read the book a third time, stack the blocks again, or appreciate the colorful painting they made.  It's so easy to just do the next thing. Make breakfast, do the laundry, pack the lunches, pay the bills, file the papers, shop for groceries, sign the schoolwork, prepare a nutritious dinner, do the dishes, put the laundry away, clean the house, tuck them in, go to bed, then wake up and do it all again. It's so easy to plan the next thing, while working on the thing in front of you, and forget that their days are passing you by. They are getting a little older. They are getting a little bigger . They are paying attention to you. You are their first hero. The first person who hangs the moon in their eyes. Believe it or not, if you take this responsibility se

Within the medical field, things are often dealt with from a statistical point of view. Doctors rely on what is "the norm" a lot. And let's face it, the "norm" is most of what doctors probably see, so you can't really fault them for assuming your case will also be "normal." And then there's me. I was one of those babies allergic to milk who needed a prescription formula. In the '70s. I was born tongue-tied, but nobody noticed because I spoke fine... once I started talking. So, I'm still tongue-tied. I was one of those kids who got molested by a family member. I have bunions. On both feet. Since childhood. I was a "late bloomer." In all the ways. I was diagnosed with polyps in my sinus cavities at age 18 due to recurrent, severe headaches. I still have them because the small chance they could grow back after being removed is a reality I cannot ignore. I've always known I was an outlier.... 😏 As if that's not