Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
(read more at more)
"... many of us feel quite sure, both from the hunger in our hearts and the meager Christian fruits in our lives, that we are far from a life rooted in the deep resources of God. Times of trial and other adverse circumstances may sometimes cause us to renew our intentions and resolves in this regard for a season. Usually though, with the return of better times, or simply under the myriad pressures of life itself, we gradually relax our grip on our resolutions and return to our more pragmatic, 'real world' concerns."
Bob Benson, Sr. and Michael W. Benson
...far from a life rooted in the deep resources of God. That's what I'm sayin'...
"You see why I feel so stupid?" she asks.
I say nothing.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Monday, June 08, 2009
Friday, June 05, 2009
It was an unusual sight. Eight or ten bodies in motion, bouncing, bouncing, bouncing, and my daughter's body static. It is not a sight I'm used to. It is not a situation she is used to. But, alas, this is what happens when you break your arm.
You don't get to play on the trampoline with the other kids. Or do the sack race on field day. Or go to the water park with a friend. You have to sit on the sidelines and watch. And when you are not a sideline kind of kid, this is a bit of a stretch.
Three times a week for the last several weeks, we have driven, all three of us, across town to sit in a freezing waiting from for an hour while my daughter has physical therapy to straighten out her broken arm. This, too, is a stretch, given I had just cleared my calendar to make life more laid back.
But the real stretching comes at the hands of Todd, her therapist, who sits for thirty minutes at a time simply pulling on her arm. For a child who is not comfortable with discomfort, this is indeed a stretch. She sits, quietly (unlike at home, where I must do it for a measly five minutes, three times a day, while she whines and moans and complains) as he patiently yet firmly works to undo the damage done by four weeks of immobility.
Immobility. I know a thing or two about not moving. About things locking up, tissue wrapping around tissue, weaving tightly to the point of preventing freedom of movement. Stretching, apparently, is the key to freedom.
Like my daughter, I grouse and gripe at the simplest amount of pressure applied to a tender tendon. Like my daughter, I do not like to let someone else pull on my arm. But the type of stretching necessary to take my daughter's arm from a 90° angle to -5° is apparently something she can't do on her own.
And, apparently, I'm supposed to learn something from that.
A. Give him a stern lecture on not running off and climbing on things. Oh, wait, you've done that already. Twice. Just tonight.
B. Roll on the grass laughing at him as he stands there with his hair plastered to his head and water running down his legs. Try to pretend to be upset with him when you walk past the parents that saw him fall in. Ignore the fact they thought HE was a SHE.
C. Make him sit in the shade. In the breeze.
D. Your response?
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Our official grading:
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
you speak of blessing,
insist you are near at hand
waiting for my call
but i am hoarse from
calling, all to no avail--
you do not come near
promises kept or
not kept--i know not the truth--
blind eyes do not see
though the midnight hour is dark...
i welcome your sight
Monday, June 01, 2009
Putting it all back together. Indeed, not something I've had the time or energy to do.
Hopefully this week will bring a few pix from the end of the school year, and a post or two that have been bopping around in my head. In the meantime, I'm going to grab a couple more ibuprofen for the road...