Thursday, January 12, 2012
Thursday, January 05, 2012
Tuesday, November 01, 2011
Sisters - October 2011
It's as if Pippa's saying, "You left me alone with her again - help!" But Thorne certainly loves her little sister, she's the one always asking to hold Pippa on the couch and to have her photo taken.
Sisters - September 2011
Pippa looks like she's desperately trying to get our attention without raising the suspicions of the crazy person over her.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Monday, March 14, 2011
Pregnancy and Prayer
Of all the poking, prodding, appointments and testing of pregnancy prior to labor and delivery my least favorite is the glucose test. Two pregnancies in a row now I’ve failed the first glucose test, which is used to diagnose gestational diabetes. The second glucose test is like the first in that you fast from food for twelve hours prior and from drink eight hours prior to the test. Then you drink the same nasty sugary drink and have your blood pulled.
The difference is that for the second test they take your blood for a fasting baseline, then you drink the crap, wait an hour, they take blood, you wait another hour, they take even more blood, wait another hour and then the final bloodletting before you can then go home. The whole process is supposed to take three hours and some change.
Did I mention they take blood four times in three hours? For those with hale and hearty veins this is no big thing. But my veins are like shrinking violets. At the mere mention of needles, they shrivel up and disappear.
With my first pregnancy this second test was all trauma. The nurse poked my right arm and was lucky to get blood that first time. The second time she couldn’t find the vein in that arm so she switched to my left, which was willing to cooperate just this once. For the third time, she attempted my left arm again and that vein went all slippery on the nurse. She poked around in my arm until she found it again and jabbed that needle to keep it in place long enough to get the blood. By that point I was shaking and crying and thankful I had an hour to recover before the final pull. After those first three needle stabbings, my arm veins had had enough. They turned off the lights, put out the Do Not Disturb sign and went to bed. The only place left for the nurse to try was my hand. By the time she finished I was near fainting. Took me a good fifteen minutes to recover and then I drove home.
So you can imagine how I dreaded having to go through the second test again. When I first saw the one nurse doing all the blood taking, I had serious qualms about staying put. She was an older Armenian woman with a distracted air about her. Call me prejudiced, but warm and cuddly are not the first adjectives that come to mind when I think of this people group. My assumption was that she’d be brisk, brusque, and all business.
When my turn came, I gave her the lowdown on my previous experience to gage her empathy level. I couldn’t get a read on her. She checked my arms and then said what no one wants to hear when offering up their arm for a blood sacrifice, “Oh, you do have very small veins. But we will make do.” I had been hoping that somehow between this and my first pregnancy my veins had miraculously plumped up. Since they obviously hadn’t the nurse's response sent my imagination into overdrive about what I could expect the next three hours to feel like - painful was the primary word that came to mind.
As she’s prepping me for the first blood letting, she holds my arm and feels for the vein. She inserts the needle and then says the other thing you never want to hear, “Now where did that vein go,” all while hunting for it with the needle under my skin. Just typing that last sentence made me cringe. Here’s me thinking I’m off to a horrible start and that I really do have reason to dread the next three hours.
But I failed to take into consideration that I had several women praying for this test and my veins in particular. Even my two year old daughter prayed for me unprompted. She sat in bed and said, “Dear Jesus, (something incomprehensible)… Mommy...(incomprehensible words)...doctor...(more incomprehensible words). Amen.”
Despite the inauspicious beginnings, the nurse was very kind and gentle with me. Her hands reminded me of my grandmother – the same pale pink polish on manicured ovals, which was strangely reassuring. The three remaining blood lettings were all possible from the same arm. And that my friends, is a minor miracle made possible by God himself.
I was reminded yet again of the power of prayer. I truly believe God answered all our prayers because he does care about the details of our lives.
The difference is that for the second test they take your blood for a fasting baseline, then you drink the crap, wait an hour, they take blood, you wait another hour, they take even more blood, wait another hour and then the final bloodletting before you can then go home. The whole process is supposed to take three hours and some change.
Did I mention they take blood four times in three hours? For those with hale and hearty veins this is no big thing. But my veins are like shrinking violets. At the mere mention of needles, they shrivel up and disappear.
With my first pregnancy this second test was all trauma. The nurse poked my right arm and was lucky to get blood that first time. The second time she couldn’t find the vein in that arm so she switched to my left, which was willing to cooperate just this once. For the third time, she attempted my left arm again and that vein went all slippery on the nurse. She poked around in my arm until she found it again and jabbed that needle to keep it in place long enough to get the blood. By that point I was shaking and crying and thankful I had an hour to recover before the final pull. After those first three needle stabbings, my arm veins had had enough. They turned off the lights, put out the Do Not Disturb sign and went to bed. The only place left for the nurse to try was my hand. By the time she finished I was near fainting. Took me a good fifteen minutes to recover and then I drove home.
So you can imagine how I dreaded having to go through the second test again. When I first saw the one nurse doing all the blood taking, I had serious qualms about staying put. She was an older Armenian woman with a distracted air about her. Call me prejudiced, but warm and cuddly are not the first adjectives that come to mind when I think of this people group. My assumption was that she’d be brisk, brusque, and all business.
When my turn came, I gave her the lowdown on my previous experience to gage her empathy level. I couldn’t get a read on her. She checked my arms and then said what no one wants to hear when offering up their arm for a blood sacrifice, “Oh, you do have very small veins. But we will make do.” I had been hoping that somehow between this and my first pregnancy my veins had miraculously plumped up. Since they obviously hadn’t the nurse's response sent my imagination into overdrive about what I could expect the next three hours to feel like - painful was the primary word that came to mind.
As she’s prepping me for the first blood letting, she holds my arm and feels for the vein. She inserts the needle and then says the other thing you never want to hear, “Now where did that vein go,” all while hunting for it with the needle under my skin. Just typing that last sentence made me cringe. Here’s me thinking I’m off to a horrible start and that I really do have reason to dread the next three hours.
But I failed to take into consideration that I had several women praying for this test and my veins in particular. Even my two year old daughter prayed for me unprompted. She sat in bed and said, “Dear Jesus, (something incomprehensible)… Mommy...(incomprehensible words)...doctor...(more incomprehensible words). Amen.”
Despite the inauspicious beginnings, the nurse was very kind and gentle with me. Her hands reminded me of my grandmother – the same pale pink polish on manicured ovals, which was strangely reassuring. The three remaining blood lettings were all possible from the same arm. And that my friends, is a minor miracle made possible by God himself.
I was reminded yet again of the power of prayer. I truly believe God answered all our prayers because he does care about the details of our lives.
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Pregnancy Brain
This was Thorne's response after being told mommy locked us out of the house because she forgot to bring the house keys with her and daddy wasn't coming home until 10pm. Fortunately, Thorne is always up for an adventure or a change of plans.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
A Day at the Gardens
The day started off rough. I was grumpy from fighting a cold and taking it out on Thorne in the form of impatience at her little mishaps. Thorne in return was feeding off my impatience by getting ornery and cranky. We needed to get out of the apartment pronto. The day was crisp and cool with fluffy white clouds in the west and dark foreboding ones in the east- ideal for a stroll through Huntington Gardens. We couldn't have planned a more perfect day as the cherry trees, plum trees, and quince trees were bursting with blooms.
Thorne being coy and cute.
I told Thorne to smile for the camera and she gave me her impression of a maniacal baby strangler. Behind her is a magnificent "Pink Cloud" cherry tree.We had a delightful time together. The fresh air and beautiful surroundings were just what we needed for an attitude adjustment.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The Story of Jonah
If you have not seen this, you're in for a treat! Thorne gives it a thumbs up too as evidenced by her watching it five times in a row.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Sunday, October 03, 2010
To Thine Own Self Be True
Thomas Merton asked the question, "Can you be who you really are with the God who is?"
As I reflected on my life with God my answer to this question has usually been no, I can't. But not because I consciously made the decision that I couldn't be. Somehow over the years I had built up an idea that I needed to show God what a good little Christian I was and I did that by suppressing any negative emotions I may have had about God, about the circumstances of my life, or about others. And it led to staleness and falseness in my life with God.
For example, let's say I had a friend who did something that hurt me unintentionally. My conversation would go something like this:
The true me wanted to say,
Since practicing the discipline of being totally honest before God, the relief I have felt has been enormous. And God has been so gentle and so tender in His dealings with me.
Honesty, as Stan Laurel would say, truly is the best policy.
As I reflected on my life with God my answer to this question has usually been no, I can't. But not because I consciously made the decision that I couldn't be. Somehow over the years I had built up an idea that I needed to show God what a good little Christian I was and I did that by suppressing any negative emotions I may have had about God, about the circumstances of my life, or about others. And it led to staleness and falseness in my life with God.
For example, let's say I had a friend who did something that hurt me unintentionally. My conversation would go something like this:
God, I know I'm supposed to love my friend but right now I'm upset with her. Help me to love her and talk to her about how she hurt me.But that wasn't the true me.
The true me wanted to say,
God! My friend is such a pain in the ass and I hate how she doesn't think about anybody but herself - she's so selfish and her selfishness pisses me off. Would you give her a smack upside the head for me?Or perhaps it was during a period of my life when nothing seemed to be going right. My conversation would've gone like this,
God, I know you're good and loving so please help me in my situation. Give me hope that things will change.My true self wanted to say,
God, it feels like you don't love me and that you don't care that I hate my life right now. Why have you abandoned me? Why do you delight in my failure? Help me!God wants me to present my true self in conversation with Him. He doesn't want me to clean up my language or my thoughts or my feelings before coming to Him. He's most pleased when I open up my true self to Him trusting Him to resolve the problems of my heart. He doesn't want us to live double lives - one life inside our head, where we reside with all our true emotions, and another cleaned up version of ourselves with Him.
Since practicing the discipline of being totally honest before God, the relief I have felt has been enormous. And God has been so gentle and so tender in His dealings with me.
Honesty, as Stan Laurel would say, truly is the best policy.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
On Small Talk and Souls
I disapprove of the usual practice of talking "small talk" whenever we meet, and holding a veil over our souls. If we are so impoverished that we have nothing to reveal but small talk, then we need to struggle for more richness of soul.
--Frank Laubach Letters By A Modern Mystic
--Frank Laubach Letters By A Modern Mystic
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Of Mouse and Things
On many a night Thorne gets read Goodnight Moon that classic children's book by Margaret Wise Brown. Her favorite activity while reading this story is to find the mouse. He moves about the room from the bookcase to the fireplace to the bowl full of mush. I'll ask Thorne "where's the mouse" and she'll hover her finger above various objects before stabbing the mouse with her index finger. So when we went to LACMA this week to peruse European art from the 1600's it was no surprise that this was her favorite painting - a still life by Abraham van Beyeren. Can you see why?
Thursday, July 08, 2010
Human Rights Abuse: Diego Arria
The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. -- Edmund Burke
I can't begin to imagine the kind of courage it takes to stand up to a dictator like Hugo Chavez; to watch as Chavez steals your property and then attempts to smear you as the enemy; to persevere in bringing reckoning to Chavez despite the destruction of your personal property and way of life; to keep fighting for the benefit of all Venezuelans. Fortunately, Diego Arria agrees with Burke and has made it his life's work to fight evil. We can support him by spreading the word of his plight; to not forget about what has happened in Venezuela and is continuing to happen. Oppressive governments hope we'll forget once the story is out of the news cycle. Let's not be so obliging.
I can't begin to imagine the kind of courage it takes to stand up to a dictator like Hugo Chavez; to watch as Chavez steals your property and then attempts to smear you as the enemy; to persevere in bringing reckoning to Chavez despite the destruction of your personal property and way of life; to keep fighting for the benefit of all Venezuelans. Fortunately, Diego Arria agrees with Burke and has made it his life's work to fight evil. We can support him by spreading the word of his plight; to not forget about what has happened in Venezuela and is continuing to happen. Oppressive governments hope we'll forget once the story is out of the news cycle. Let's not be so obliging.