The Welcome Home – Page 70 – The Next Chapter

The Monstrous Regiment of Women

I’m looking forward to watching this film… for many years, my heart’s desire has been to encourage women to be women as God designed, not feminist, but feminine; so that, in the end, the Word of God is not blasphemed. The film? The Monstrous Regiment of Women. See a clip here.

I think it’s both discouraging and shameful to watch the decline of femininity and the assault of things feminine and modest and the demoralization/degrading of women — especially by the very ones who purport to be championing women’s rights. I say degrading because when a woman is lead to believe her work and worth are actually contrary to her God-given design and purpose — well, that’s degrading. The more this occurs, the less ‘rights’ women really have and the less honour and nobility as well.

Probably the saddest of all, the most egregious of all is the foolishness bound up in the heart or way of the mainstream church today – as this foolishness flourishes, the lack of understanding, lack of knowledge of the Scriptures, lack of respect for God – or a low view of God, and lack of wisdom is taking the mainstream church today down a slippery slope of both defiance to and of the redefining of God’s clear Word.

Psalm 11.3 “If the foundations be destroyed, what can the righteous do?

Liberate: To set free or release from bondage. [and I’m amazed at the dictionary definitions that also include things like: freedom from oppression, to give equal rights to or freedom for women and minorities.]

Though semantics plays a great role here, let’s understand that truly, a genuinely liberated woman is one who knows the LORD and knows and obeys the Word of God — Liberated from the bonds or bondage of sin and death. Then think of the cultural bondage women are subjected to. Think of the bondage of fighting against God’s design… living outside His order. That’s bondage… and yet, it’s the lie that women are being told every day (that they can be liberated and free by being “equal” with/to men) – it’s the lie of “women’s liberation” and truly, misery loves company and needs it, too (to propagate the lie). The lie is that being a feminine woman, a keeper at home, a wife, homemaker/mother, teacher of children, etc., etc., is bondage – something from which to be liberated.

Really, a truly liberated woman is free in Jesus… free to be the woman God designed her to be. So called women’s liberation is not liberation at all… it’s bondage to fighting against creation and purpose, and it’s fighting against God’s precious gift of womanhood – a life that is not in competition with men, but a life that is in completion of them. A truly liberated woman doesn’t fight to be in the man’s place – no! a truly liberated woman fights to be good, to be chaste, to be discreet, to keep her home, to love her husband, to love her children… all of these: that the Word of God be not blasphemed.

O, for a thousand tongues to sing…

Palindromes

I think palindromes are cool and have lots of fun looking for creative palindromes – but especially fun are long ones that also make sense! The easiest way to teach children to spot palindromes is to start with words they know… Pop, Mom, Dad, Tat… the, eventually they’ll get things like madam, level, and radar. Then on to a couple of words like: race car, stack cats… and on to: ” Too bad I hid a boot” or, senile felines. Always encourage children Try New Things – you’ll remember that: TNT!

You can go on to teach palingrams… sentences that read the same backwards or forwards: He was, was he? And then you can distinguish even further a word palingram and palindrome, too: “I did, did I?” See?

Then there are names… Tat, Lil, Elle, Bob…

Speaking of Bob… and I think his name probably got him interested in palindromes a very young age. Kids with names like that do think it’s pretty cool!

Take a look: bob-dylan-palindrome.htm
You’ll like watching this one… especially if you’re a Dylan fan – and if you’re not, you just might become one. His music and style is very unique and unmistakable. He sort of gives everyone the confidence that no matter how they sound, rhyme or strum, they, too, can be musical! 😉 (let it load and turn up your speakers – especially if you’re a Dylan fan)

Palindrome
pa·lin·dro·mist, noun
pal·in·drom·ic,
pal·in·drom·i·cal, adjective
pal·in·drom·i·cal·ly

* A line that reads the same backward and forward,” c.1629, from Gk. palindromos “a recurrence,” lit. “a running back,” from palin “again, back” (from PIE base *kwel- “move round,” with notion of revolving, cycle) + dromos “a running.”
* A segment of double-stranded DNA in which the nucleotide sequence of one strand reads in reverse order to that of the complementary strand.

Palindromes are fun for children to both see and experiment creating. It’s a great creative writing exercise and great for printing, too.

Palindromic Phrases:

Did I do, O God, did I as I said I’d do? Good, I did!
A car, a man, a maraca.
Sir, I demand, I am a maid named Iris.
Was it a rat I saw?
We’ll let Dad tell Lew.
A dog, a pan, a pagoda.
So may Obadiah, even in Nineveh, aid a boy, Amos.
Madam, in Eden I’m Adam.
Madam, not one man is selfless; I name not one, Madam.
So many dynamos!
A rod, not a bar, a baton, Dora.
Stop, Syrian, I see bees in airy spots.
A Toyota!
Egad an adage!
Marge let a moody baby doom a telegram.
Won’t lovers revolt now?
Yawn a more Roman way.
Yo! Banana boy!
Never odd or even
A man, a plan, a canal. Panama.
A six is a six is a six is a six is a
No, it is open on one position.
No, it is opposed; Art sees Trade’s opposition.
No, it is opposition.

My favourite palindrome? Hannah.

And the of course: Did Hannah say as Hannah did?
?did hannaH say as hannaH diD

Sorrow skips no home

This autumn’s sure brought a strange season of sorrow… and though I’ve often said, sorrow skips no home, it seems its presence is far more prevalent in recent weeks. So much sorrow… so much loss. Though some loss is expected, the sorrow is never really conceived until it washes over the home… then, its intensity is overwhelming. Sorrow’s not only in death and loss, it’s in change and disappointment, sickness and disability. Sorrow’s so intensely personal and yet touches everyone who’s associated in some manner to the circumstances at the center of that sorrow… so sorrow’s sort of a community thing and is far reaching.

I’ve thought on the unexpected assault of sorrow and grief a lot lately as I think back a little more than a couple of weeks ago to the memorial service for our friend and all that’s happened in this relatively short space of time. And in this space of time I’ve mentioned to many: you never know when the loved one you enjoy today will not be around anymore. In a seeming moment, life changes and is never the same again.

Whenever I see the television reporter’s van at our little airport here in town, I think: O, no. Sometimes I know my: “O, no” is related to the ever ongoing saga of the proposed airport expansion and the heated tension in this community over all the ‘what if’s’ surrounding the impact such an expansion would possibly bring to pass. But I knew yesterday’s presence of the television reporters had nothing to do with the expansion. I knew there had to be some major problem. Returning home, I had more confirmation that something ‘really big’ had happened.

Most of the time when friends face loss or trials, my answer or my action is to make food. And when I see lots of cars, lots of food. So, that was yesterday. Our neighbors waited; cried and watched and waited, prayed and cried as they waited for news of the whereabouts of ten people aboard a skydiver’s plane that had disappeared and was presumed to have crashed in the Cascade mountains on Sunday night. That was the reason for the reporter’s hanging around the airport all day yesterday and this morning. But this afternoon, they’re no longer waiting for answers – at least not answers to the question of the location of the plane or if there were survivors… and their grief is inestimable. The plane with its pilot and nine passengers had crashed and none survived. Now, I suppose, their questions will likely only be answered in eternity. And for now, they’re left grieving… the loss of many things, many hopes and dreams. Of those friends, all they have are the sweet memories of those who were ‘family’ to them.

The most recent news piece is here.

In our Bible study this morning, we were so impressed with the many references to the holiness of God – the many references to praising God, to trusting in Him and rejoicing in Him. O, how I pray the families affected by this horrific tragedy will know the peace and comfort of the Lord and that He will minister to their hearts in this time of tremendous grief and sorrow.

All of these things serve to remind me – us – of the brevity of life and the uncertainty of days. And one thing is very certain… just as we shall all face sorrow, we shall all face our own end, the death of this life. And we will all meet the Lord. And we will all give an account. And eternity awaits us all. Eternity in heaven or eternity in hell. And the most sobering thing is that those who do not know Jesus will not spend eternity in heaven with Him but will be eternally separated from God. This is the record of His Word.

1John 5.4-13

4 For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith.
5 Who is he that overcometh the world, but he that believeth that Jesus is the Son of God?
6 This is he that came by water and blood, even Jesus Christ; not by water only, but by water and blood. And it is the Spirit that beareth witness, because the Spirit is truth.
7 For there are three that bear record in heaven, the Father, the Word, and the Holy Ghost: and these three are one.
8 And there are three that bear witness in earth, the Spirit, and the water, and the blood: and these three agree in one.
9 If we receive the witness of men, the witness of God is greater: for this is the witness of God which he hath testified of his Son.
10 He that believeth on the Son of God hath the witness in himself: he that believeth not God hath made him a liar; because he believeth not the record that God gave of his Son.
11 And this is the record, that God hath given to us eternal life, and this life is in his Son.
12 He that hath the Son hath life; and he that hath not the Son of God hath not life.
13 These things have I written unto you that believe on the name of the Son of God; that ye may know that ye have eternal life, and that ye may believe on the name of the Son of God.

Sorrow skips no home… but in Jesus there is hope and life and peace.

And God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes;
and there shall be no more death,
neither sorrow, nor crying, neither shall there be any more pain:
for the former things are passed away. —The Revelation 21.4

Naming the grandmother

Another drawback or disadvantage of not having family traditions is that life happens and sometimes you’ve just done things one way or another simply by default. It’s not yo fault, it’s default. Take being Swedish or German or Norwegian or Russian or whatever… there are wonderful traditions that are unique or particular to that country or culture. I’m not so sure what American culture is…. or what things are particular to Americans as far as family and/or traditional or distinguishing customs go. Maybe bigger-better-more. No… bigger-better-more really is a universal thing… it’s just that the bigger-better-more may not necessarily be a tangible or material thing… it may be simply an achievement or an accumulation of knowledge or skill or whatever.

Okay, so now where was I going with all that? O, yes. I have been thinking a lot about names… what other people call us says a bit about what they think of us or what we think of what they think of us and so on. Lemme give you an example: Say I have a particular pet name for you and I call you: Dear…. I may sometimes call you Deary, or Dearest, or My-dear. Those would be sweet and the intention, sweet. But think for a moment the times you might have heard: “Yes, dear.” It actually comes out Yeeeeeeeeeeeaaahhhssssssssssssssssssssssssssss, deeeeeeir. Sounds kind of like a disgusted sigh. Think of the same statement: “Yes, dear” said in a sweet way and you understand the inherent love in the lilting tone.

In recent years I have been very quiet about a name… my name. Might be your name, too. It’s Grandma. Now, I don’t mind one little bit being a grandma or even being called grandma. That’s not what I mean… but I must say that sometimes I don’t like the sound of that name… and worse: the occasional, almost mocking nature of references to grandmas. It doesn’t sound like the sweet: Gramma… that Grammy sounding name or the sweet sound of Nanna or Mama. Nope, sometimes people make grandma sound pretty derogatory. I think you might know what I mean… especially if you’re a grandmother yourself: Someone meets you and discovers you have children who have children of their own… and you hear: So, you’re a graaaand-mah. Trying to look past the condescension, you muster up a sweet: Yes!

So, back to those traditions… if you’ve got them (those special names given to grandmothers), wonderful! If you don’t have them, then you’ll likely wear the default name: Grandma. So, I’m thinking that what women ought to do is think long and hard about what they want their name to be… what they’ll want their grandchildren to call them – and if they’ve got lots of children, then they’ll likely have lots of grandchildren and it sure would be a whole lot simpler to have one name you call yourself – that special name your grandchildren call you.

I asked our girls recently to be thinking about what they want their children to call me (when they have children). For, I recognize that, most likely, what they want their children to call me is probably most important…. probably even more important than what I want their children to call me. And… just bcz the firstborn’s children got to “name me,” doesn’t mean that’s the name I have to have – if it’s contrary to the girl’s wish. I say this bcz it sure seems to me that mothers and mothers-in-law are two entirely different sorts of grandmothers in the daughter’s and daughter’s in law’s eyes – so, that’s my rationale for asking our daughters to be thinking of the name they want their children to call me.

So, naming the grandmother. If tradition doesn’t do it… better start thinking about your own!

Home is where the sweet happens

So… a late Saturday morning ramble… over a particularly delicious cup of coffee that I didn’t make (thank you, Kathryn, Mmmm mmm mmm). Being away from home this week has made me increasingly more appreciative of the things that make home: home. I was keenly aware this past week that there are wonderful things that are and that happen at home that aren’t and don’t happen anywhere else. The familiar makes home: home. Memories and children – children and memories… these are what make home: home. History makes home: home. The Lord makes home: home. The familiar, the security… the acceptance, the freedom to say and do and think things – these also make home: home. Or, rather, the freedom to say and do and think things without fear or with confidence of acceptance… well, these are what make home: home. Confidence of acceptance… what a wonderful thing… home is.

So… it’s so good to be home. O, and, don’t get me wrong… it was good to have a little time away, too. But the very cool thing was that the ‘gettaway’ wasn’t to get: away. It was to run to, and not from, something… it was to go to, and not away, from something. But, even still, though it was a tremendous time… a wonderful place to be and a delightful way to spend days and was very profitable and refreshing… it still wasn’t: home.

Home is where the good things are… home is where the good times are… home is where the sweet happens.

Sadly, I know this isn’t always true in every home. And, for many women, home is really the last place they want to be. So, through the week I have been mulling over… what makes home: home? and what can women do (or what can men do) to make home *the* place to be – *the* place to *want* to be?

This thought, or these thoughts actually, was on my mind all week as we spent time away on a semi-working holiday. We were learning a new webpage design program and were putting together the contents of the site. It’s slow going for me… bcz I can never seem to make a decision and stick with it… and the learning curve is steep for me. But my husband is patient and kind and flexible and loving and on and on. Along with our long, long talks about life and the season ahead, we talked about what we want to accomplish. I don’t know that we needed to get “away” to do this and I don’t know if it took a heart attack to do this or just what… but I do know that the Lord is surely directing the path… and we’re just seeking to order our steps aright.

What a delight to be welcomed home last night… by our children and grandchildren. Home is… sweet home. Home is where sweet happens.

holidays

Several weeks back, we made some plans for a little ‘working holiday’ away from home. Now… this has providentially been a real blessing – not just bcz we love to spend time here, but also has been a ‘forced rest’ for Wes. We’d originally thought we’d come here a bit later in the year or after the first of the year… but taking into consideration both Kathryn’s and Timothy’s departures (at different times) to Africa, we thought we’d do this now. Well… in truth, I actually thought it might not be a very good idea and even voiced my sort of nervous concern to the cardiologist… and she promptly said: Go! Whatever you need to do to get rest, eliminate stress and not go back to work… that’s a good thing to do (again, candidly here, I was not relieved). Wes was relieved. Though he’s a swimming pool contractor, he really does not like swimming. At all. Isn’t that funny? But… give him a spa and a sauna or steam room opportunity and he’ll like that!

And so, here we are. It’s a wonderful place to spend some time… such a radically different place and pace than home. And bcz we’re not too fond of crowded places or swimming with others, we like that the pools during the week are practically empty, very calm and quiet. In a very peculiar way, I’m even liking the misty weather (even though that’s one of the drawbacks to vacationing in the “off-season”) and the cooler days.
I’ve since come to see that Wes sure did have excellent foresight to make these plans to be here while the Sand Sculptures are still ‘on display.’ Harrison Hot Springs was the site for an international sandcastle building competition that took place in May and the sculptures were available for viewing throughout the summertime Harrison Festival of the Arts… and fortunately, for us, even now! We’ve walked around the lake and then today we looked at each of the sculptures… amazingly, these many months later, the sculptures have withstood many hard rainstorms and high winds and still are quite impressive to see! Some of the sculptures have sustained a bit of damage, and some even have some moss growing on them! but, for the most part, they appear to have just recently been completed. I’ve no idea the tremendous time and skilled work that goes into the creation of these sculptures on the beach… they’re just such amazing things!

The leaves have turned and the air is crisp and we’ve had to bundle up as we’ve gone out for walks! I’m thinking that for the next several months, this will be our daily routine – just not here – we are going home – really! Now, isn’t this an interesting turn of events! Here I am the one who needs to lose weight, exercise and drop cholesterol – and it was my husband who had the heart attack! His blood pressure has been good for years and cholesterol level’s been good, too. He’d made many changes in diet in the last several months and eliminated the daily donut nearly two years ago. So… here we are today. He continues to make different changes and has regained strength and stamina and says he feels pretty good. I continue to… drink coffee.

Tomorrow’s another day… I’ll be home tomorrow. O, home… home sweet home – holidays are sweet… but home’s sweeter!

Whither Thou Goest

Inscribed on our wedding invitation and sung at our wedding were the words (from the Book of Ruth): “Entreat me not to leave thee, or to return from following after thess: for whither thou goest, I will go; and where thou lodgest, I will lodge: thy people shall be my people, and thy God, my God: Where thou diest, will I die, and there will I be buried: the LORD do so to me, and more also, if ought but death part thee and me.”

Well… those are the thoughts behind my words: “Whatever you want to do… that’s what I want to do.” I’m saying them a lot these days – and I mean the words like never before.

Though I have probably said those words a thousand times, I’m wondering: have I really and truly always meant them? In times past, I said them, but I’m wondering if the: ‘whatever you want to do, I want to do’ was sort of a qualified, ‘whatever you want to do – I might want to do.’ I am wondering theses days if I actually, more accurately meant: you can tell me whatever you want to do and I will go along with that plan… but I will also work to adjust it around my previously arranged plans. So, it was more: Whatever you want to do, I’ll probably go along with it – unless I get sidetracked or unless I forget or unless it doesn’t really work out for me or whatever.

I have strongly intended to follow him wherever he leads, to follow his lead -seriously. Day by day, through our whole marriage, I have sought to honour him in word AND in deed. But as I’ve inferred a few times in the last several entries: there’s nothing like a wake up call to turn the world upside down or totally rearrange the pieces on the game board… maybe, in reality, to show that the game is further along than you thought — that, literally, you’ve lost some pieces or some points and now have to change your whole strategy and game plan. Or get one.

I’ve been mulling over lots of things. Lots of things that seemed to matter: don’t. Lots of things that seemed to need attention: don’t. Lots of things I wanted to say or do really don’t matter all that much. When it all comes down to it, there’s really not a whole lot that matters a whole lot.

When it all comes down to it, here’s what matters:

Are you right with Jesus?

Is there any unfinished business in your life?

Are there some things you need to do today? Words you need to say today? Forgiveness you need to seek today? Forgiveness you need to offer today. Really…

The possibility of walking through the rest of my days alone has really abruptly assaulted and altered my thinking. I know my husband loves me – cares about everything that concerns me and seeks my best interest. I wonder if I have, by my actions when I am reluctant to do this or that thing, or to go to this or that place, questioned his judgment – questioned his love? So I’ve been asking the LORD to work in me – through me – to say and mean the words I say to my husband. I want the literal words of my mouth, the meditation of my heart and the intent of my actions to be: whatever you want to do.. . that’s what I want to do.

My husband and I took a long drive yesterday and talked. And talked. We talked about things we’ve only brushed the surface on in years past. I don’t know when we would have started talking about life and health and death, but here we are… talking about it all now.

So, I’ve been reflecting on the passage in a whole new light. I want the “whither thou goest, I will go” to be: whither thou goest, I *want* to go and I will go. Hand in hand with the Proverbs passage, “She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.” a sure foundation, or mandate for wives, can be seen. Doing him good… what can I do, what can I say, where can I go that will: do him good?

Words…

teacup You know how you hear words over and over and they are so common you don’t even really stop to consider their profound meaning? I mean, I recall for many years my mother in law or my father in law would comment about their cardiologist or my mom mentioned her surgeon or my dad mentioned his oncologist… words. Merely common words.

I was talking on the telephone last evening with a friend of mine… the friend whose husband just died and she was asking me for the specifics of what has happened around here this week. So I sort of rattled off statements that were interspersed with old vocabulary words that have now become part of my every day speech. She said… wait, can you believe you said, “Wes’s cardiologist?” And I laughed. It was nervous laughter that became this morning’s tears. I was hugging my husband, my head resting on his heart, and I cried at the events of the week. There’s time for crying now. There’s no time for tears when the activities call for action and attention. There’s no time for crying when the responsibilities call for attention and clear thought. But this morning called for neither—nothing but hugs and praise. And the words that have been so easily rolling off my tongue sort of all got caught in my throat today and my mind was sort of in a blur and I gasped as I realized: what the heck? my *husband* has a cardiologist?

I have this little shelf beside my sink above the bathroom counter. It’s become my habit every night to set my glasses on the shelf, to put my bracelet on the hook and my hair clips next to my glasses. That little shelf is now lined with bottles… not pretty perfume bottles, but amber coloured bottles with with my husband’s name and… c-a-r-d-i-o-l-o-g-i-s-t-‘s name on them. More words. As probable as it was for my husband to travel this path and hit this part of the road, I was completely unprepared for personal use of words that I was fairly accustomed to hearing… in other’s lives. Other husband’s lives. Other’s homes.

My husband(!) carries nitroglycerin now. Nitro’s… you know, little pills old people carry with them to relieve the symptoms of angina. Angina!?! When did that word become part of my husband’s lingo? It’s so bizarre to even consider let alone realize that we’ve entered the world of statins, ACE inhibitors, Beta blockers, blood thinners; the segment of the population for whom all sorts of acronyms and initials describe their own personal medical conditions and history. MI and CA stents now appear on my husband’s medical records and that he now carries a card in his wallet that has a bar code on it… id-ing him as a cardiology patient – a card that can be referenced the next time… I blink. The next time?

Those words… myocardial infarction… still ring in my ears. I still marvel that I sat in that waiting room and talked with the doctor and answered his questions. How long had my husband had heart disease? A myocardial infarct was his first sign. For too many people those words are their first sign of heart disease, too.

How I praise the Lord I was able to talk with the cardiologist after the successful procedure was completed. I sobered up real fast when he said that if Wes hadn’t come in when he did and hadn’t begun that heparin and nitroglycerin that he may well have suffered a massive heart attack and the outcome might not have been favourable. I read just today of yet another man whose first sign of cardiovascular disease was a fatal MI.

The warning signs were all around. We read them… the were common words. Those words became sirens… we’re so listening now.

The Heart of Her Husband…

Safely trusts in her…

I ponder this verse over and over. The heart of my husband safely trusts in me. Safely trusts. His heart safely trusts. In me. Wow… this has been on my mind and in my teaching for years. I have always focused on what I considered to be heart issues. And if/when things seemed out of balance, I have gone back to the heart issues… am I ministering to him, to his needs, to his well being and comfort. Am I trustworthy, have I been faithful, am I attentive to the cares and concerns of his life? Am I listening to him? Do I *hear* what he is saying? Am I sexually attentive and interested in him and do I make sure he knows it? Does he know I think he’s totally “all that!“? Does he have my attention and admiration? Do I split loyalties? Am I behind his back what I am to his face? Does he know I’m not looking around? Am I concerned with his plans and do I pay attention to his conversations? These have all been key factors or key components of what I consider to be a faithful wife—these are things that have been key to me all these years—it’s been of paramount importance that my husband’s heart safely trusts in me. I love him.

All these years I have been practically and literally loving him to death.

Sobering.

I love to cook; and I can make great awful food. And I have, all these years.

I know that it might seem I’m making too much over this weeks turn of events or am attempting to shoulder all the responsibility for the food my husband has swallowed. I know I have been making stuff he likes. And lots of it. And all along the way I’ve also made some great things that have been very, very good for him. This isn’t a total guilt trip. He’s made some changes in recent years and some radical changes in recent months. So I know that his eating – our eating is sort of a shared responsibility. I know I didn’t make all the donuts and didn’t pour all the coffee and didn’t stack the hamburgers or salt the fries. And I know I wasn’t the one to make the firm decision some months back to eliminate those foods from his diet. But I also know that I know how to make a heart stopping cinnamon roll. I know how to make heart stopping lasagne and stroganoff. Great salads have accompanied all those meals. Lots of vegetables accompanied those meals. Lots of butter, too. I know how to add just the right amount of salt and fat to make even a purist want another bite. This is not bragging. I’m not altogether proud of this today. But I’m not going to jump off the bridge over it, though, either. But I am waking up.

Eight years ago this morning, my father didn’t. A million pounds of butter, thousands of gallons of cream, tons of steak and buckets of sugar paved the road to heaven for him. I thought about that a lot at that time. I cried over the many years I didn’t know him. I cried over the things I didn’t learn from him (and maybe that’s for the better ~wink~). Even made some major changes in my eating habits at that time. And then some months passed. And then some years passed… I perfected some more to-die-~~over~~-for meals. And here I am this morning… knowing that I have played an integral part in my husband’s overall health (and/or lack thereof). I picked up the groceries and turned them into meals and desserts. I knew what he loved and made sure to serve it to him. And joined him.

The party’s not over… we’ve just got to change the venue a bit for both of us. Quite a bit. I don’t really know specifically and exactly what I’ll do… or what I won’t do, but I’m making some practical changes;

The heart of my husband (trusts in me) depends on it. I love him. I love his heart. I want to be around to show him that.

Cholesterol Awareness…

Did you know that September is “Cholesterol Awareness Month”? O, yeah, I’m aware!

The service mark for the American Heart Association is: Learn and Live. I mull this over. I’m mulling over a lot of things lately. You know I realized tonight that I never thought my husband could/would/might die. Really… ever. I’m fairly sure I’ve been thinking it would be me to go first – still probably will be, by the way, though I’ve known there was a very strong possibility that my husband would have a heart attack or stroke or both. In fact, if he followed family health patterns, a heart attack was absolutely, positively guaranteed to happen. It happened.

Since heart disease is common on both sides of both of our families, it was actually quite foolish for me to continue cooking and serving in the manner I have for the last nearly 30 years. I’m troubled tonight by the fact that I have been pretty cavalier about health and food preparation and serving. O, I’ve been working at many healthful choices… but that really doesn’t mean much when there are an equal number of very unhealthy choices made, prepared and presented every day. I’ll write more on this another time.

There’s nothing like a brush with something to force action. It doesn’t matter what it is, when you have a brush with something, you act – or react. You get stopped by an officer for speeding — and if you only get a warning, in the future you watch your driving around officers. If you get a ticket, you watch your driving around speed traps. If you get a substantial fine, you not only watch for officers and speed traps, you watch your own actions… prevention. Same with cooking without instructions or putting together “some assembly required” objects… ruin things a few times and you begin to realize there must be some value in following instructions and that instructions do serve a vital purpose.

So, learn and live.

This isn’t going to be a new nauseating mantra, but we do need to make some more changes. The last thing I (or my husband) want to do is to become an annoying clanging cymbal… you know the clanging symbol or the noise of the newly reformed. Well, and especially since we’ve got so far to go and have a pretty pitiful reputation of making some rather unhealthy food choices. I mean, I’m pretty sure a Starbucks grande mocha isn’t on the ‘heart healthy’ menu. Or peanut M&M’s, either.

If you’ve got risk factors, you’ve got a few choices. Actually, you’ve got few choices. Do nothing; wait and see what happens — but actually you’ll likely make one of two choices. The first is to be faithful, live well, eat well, exercise well, sleep well, work at reducing stress and inflammation and then see what happens in your healthy so-far-as-it-depends-on-you life — or, live poorly, don’t eat well, don’t exercise, don’t sleep well, don’t seek to reduce stress and inflammation and watch the mounting unintended consequences of an unhealthy life take you in directions you would never have imagined.

Yesterday as I sat in the waiting room –that first meeting of the new club I’d just joined, I listened to a surgeon tell me to help my husband. He then went on to tell me my husband needed to do three things:

diet, exercise and eliminate stress.”

I was sort of glad I had left my coffee cup in the room where I’d been waiting previously. I’d ordered it from the coffee stand in the hospital lobby. “Whipped cream on that?” “No, thank you… my husband just had a heart attack.” I was thinking… I need to turn over a new leaf. Well, actually I need to dig up a whole big tree.