Abeja

That is “bee” in Spanish. . .as in buzz, buzz. . .it is ONE of the the words I’ve learned from my kiddos. They are very happy that I can say “abeja”–which is pronouned “ah-bay-ha.” See? Now you can say “bee” in Spanish too. Aren’t you glad you clicked over here to make sure I was still breathing.

I am, indeed, breathing.

Daddy is in the hospital. They went in to see if the blod clot was gone, but it’s not. In fact, there is a great big ‘ole clot in there that is not being pumped around because the valve isn’t working. The doctor said it’s like jello. Not good. SO, he is back on the cumaudin again, and they are waiting for his level to be where it needs to be so he can go home and wait some more so he can go back and see if they can shock his heart back into rhythm in 6-8 weeks.

It’s a good thing the fish aren’t biting anyway.

And my friend Amy who was radioactive for a weekend not too long ago got some not so great news–the treatment didn’t work like they thought, and so she is waiting too. She will probably have to do radiation again.

Please pray for them as they are in “the waiting place.” When I was a high school Senior, I got not one but two copies of “Oh the Places You’ll Go” by Dr. Seuss, (you can find the entire text here, and if you’ve never read or not read it in awhile, it’s worth your five minutes) and he quite eloquently describes The Waiting Place.

“. . .headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place…

…for people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go
or a bus to come, or a plane to go
or the mail to come, or the rain to go
or the phone to ring, or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or a No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.

Waiting for the fish to bite
or waiting for wind to fly a kite
or waiting around for Friday night
or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake
or a pot to boil, or a Better Break
or a sting of pearls, or a pair of pants
or a wig with curls, or Another Chance.
Everyone is just waiting.

NO!
That’s not for you!

Somehow you’ll escape
all that waiting and staying.
You’ll find the bright places
where Boom Bands are playing.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that all waiting is useless or ill spent. God commands us to wait very, very often. But, it can be tiresome and long and discouraging, so I am hoping that very soon they are both back to where the Boom Bands are playing. Until then, please remember them often to The One who asks us to wait upon Him.

And while you’re at it, have a good week.

“And step by step you’ll lead me. . .”

There is a song by the late Rich Mullins called “Sometimes By Step.” We don’t normally sing the whole song–just the chorus.

“Oh, God. You are my God,
And I will ever praise you.
Oh, God. You are my God,
And I will ever praise you.
I will seek you in the morning,
And I will learn to walk in your ways,
And step by step you’ll lead me,
And I will follow you all of my days.
And I will follow You all of my days.
And I will follow You all of my days.
And step by step you’ll lead me,
And I will follow you all of my days.

The first time I heard Victoria sing that song, we were sitting in a drive thru at the bank. She was about three and a half. We had sung it at church several times, but she wasn’t really singing during services then. I had the radio on the Christian station here in Houston, and the song came on–it sounds different on the radio than when we sing it at church–but from the back seat, I heard her little voice singing the chorus. It took my breath away.

“And step by step you’ll lead me, and I will follow you all of my days. . .”

The all encompassing scope of those words–the faith–the surrender–she didn’t know what it meant, but she sang it and she knew it was about God. I am older, “wiser”, but I don’t completely know the scope of those words either. I know it’s about God. And I know that I believe it.

I can barely get through the song anytime, but today, when I heard her sing it again during services, I thanked God that he is leading us as Tony and I lead her, and I prayed that he give us the grace to follow him all of our days. I prayed the same thing for her and for Thad. Those words have been written on their hearts.

Here’s the song on You Tube. This is one is a duet with Bebo Norman, but I thought the film with it was really cool.

And just for fun, you might want to hear this one too.

Great photos and a contest to boot

And I am responsible for neither.

If you want to go and see some photos of total strangers on their wedding day that are guaranteed to make you smile, head on over to Tammy’s blog and join the contest. Her photos are pure magic.

You can see more of her work here and here. WHAT a talent!!!!!

This just in. . .

After much fervent excavation I have found that the floor of my closet is ACTUALLY covered with CARPET. Who knew?

I am. . .

. . .alive. I promise. I’m also back in school. I am trying to stay off the computer some. And my brain hurts a little too. But I’m still here.

And I’m teaching my new “non English speaker” class which isn’t as hard as it sounds since they are VERY polite. . .polite as in one of them said upon leaving class yesterday in his broken English, “It was a pleasure to meet you.” I’ve not heard THAT in several years and NEVER from a student. I just about melted. I have students from Mexico, Colombia, Chad, China, El Salvador, and Hawaii (his native language is Marshalese). I’m having to explain words like “barn” and “snot.” After trying to explain barn for awhile today I pulled up a photo on Wikipedia. You KNOW they understand when you hear the collective, “OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH. . .” rising from the ranks. I am reading Snot Stew by Bill Wallace to them. If you’ve not read it before, the icky title is a misunderstood phrase that the kitten (who is the narrator) hears her “people” playing–a brother and sister. They LOVE to play Snot Stew. . .”Is not. . .Is too. . .Is not. . .Is too. . .’s not. . .’s too. . .’s not. . .
‘s too. . .snot. . .stoo. . .snot. . .stoo. . .” The kitten loves to eat leftover REAL stew, so she is a little confused as to how it can be both a food AND a game.

One kid who speaks Spanish was in the restroom when I was explaining the title. At that point there were only Spanish speakers in class. I had them tell me the words in Spanish–sopa de moco–although I may have mispelled it. So when the kid came back I said, “Tell him the name of the book in Spanish.” One kid VERY shyly said, “Sopa de moco.” And the one who’d just heard it said, “YUCK!!!” I guess yuck is the same in English and Spanish.

Anyway–you haven’t lived until you’ve heard a room of very eager, polite students repeat EVERY word you explain to them IN UNISON–including “snot”–as though it were a very important word indeed.

Daddy is doing okay–finally felt like getting out and going somewhere the other day. He is not one to stay home, but home he has stayed for the last two weeks. He had a doctor’s appt. today and when he got there he said the same thing to the doctor that I said to you.”Well, I’m alive.” To which the doctor replied, “I’m glad your wife didn’t bring you here dead–not much I can do for that.” Mom sounds tired–concerned–about what will come next–there is another appointment on Monday and another the middle of the month.

That’s it. Alive. Brain pain. Trying to keep up with your bloggies. Time to fold towels.

OH-fficial Tour of The Middle Of Nowhere

I am from the boondocks. I know there are smaller boondocks and larger boondocks than the particular geographical location of my own, but it is, indeed, the boondocks. Ask anyone who’s ever smelled it. Mixed in here are also some photos of Monroe–which is actually NOT the boondocks. . .at least not compared to Bastrop. Anyway–these are my old stomping grounds–my first home. There are photos of both grandparents’ houses–my sister uses one for her chiropractic practice and lives in the other which is across the pasture from Momma and Daddy. The photos I’ve taken are pastoral–bucolic–quaint. Sarah can tell you it isn’t really all that. . .in fact, parts definitely tain’t pretty, but it’s mine.

It took me FOREVER to get this done, then I found out that WordPress won’t let me post it straight to my blog. So, we are going on a little journey to another website. Grab yourself a cold drink and a pack of peanuts, then climb aboard. The tour starts here. . .

Somewhere near the Texas/Louisiana State Line

As promised. . .

If you find yourself in a the town of Milam and are in a need of a cut and blow dry, you might want to give this little shop a whirl.

From the first time we saw this sign, it cracked us up. . .of course, someone must be in the market for the items advertised as the sign has gotten a facelift over the past few years.