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Saturday, November 13, 2010

Times have changed....











OK...so it isn't like it was when I was 13. When I was 13 my dad taught me how to drive. He used to take me to abandoned parking lots (oh....maybe that is where I went wrong....) and let me sit behind the wheel, with him in the passenger seat, and taught me how to drive. By the time I was 17 and going for my drivers license, it was no big deal. Passed the first time around. Even passed parrallel parking. Now, my neighbor (sorry Karen) never drove prior to her permit and truth be told, she probable shouldn't drive now. I remember her hitting everything when she got her license...curbs....garbage cans and the like. I drove for years before I had an accident, and the first one was not my fault. Now, before I tell my story remember my truck is about 2 months old. And we moved into our house 9 months ago, and it is pretty new, too. Well, when we lived at our old house, our driveway was 1/2 mile long and I used to let the kids sit on my lap and steer the car down the driveway. They thought it was fun and I was in control of the car (oh, maybe THAT is where I went wrong....) So, when we moved here I thought, with two driveways and a path around the house all the way to the barn, what better place to teach Rae how to drive (see a pattern of "wrong" thinking here yet?!) I would let her sit behind the wheel and I would sit in the passenger seat, just like when I was 13. I would direct and she would drive. We have done this several times with no problems. Well, needless to say, that WASN'T the case on Sunday, November 7, 2010. We drove around the house and she wanted to pull into the garage. While my truck is huge, our garage is WAY oversized so getting the truck in should be no problem....and in fact, it wasn't. The problem was not stopping. We were "rolling" in and she was not stopping. I say (not panicked, but a little alarmed), "Rae, brake" and she hit the gas and that is when panicked. RAECHYL........BRAKE........STOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" and that is when "it" happened. Yup, she hit the gas harder and drove THRU the house. Yes, you read that correctly....thru the house....and Matt Marcus, you thought YOU had the record for car stories.
Well, suffice it to say the rest of the night (and the next day or two) were NOT pretty.
Praise be to God, no one was hurt. I have learned many lessons here. God is unbelievably gracious. My car made it with almost no damage (honest...even the guy at the dealer, when he had it on a lift the next day looking for damage, said there was NO evidence that the car was hung up on the concrete foundation of our home). The damage to the house was under $1000 and is being fixed this coming week. As for Rae....I'm pretty sure she won't be driving until she is 30, but certainly not until 17 as far as I am concerned....I totally understand now why God tells us to obey ALL the law (not just part of it). No tickets cuz the damage was on private property. I have been chewed up and spit out by my counselor, and rightfully so. I have learned much, but my greatest lesson was how precious the lives of my two babies are and how amazing my husband and God are. I'm not quite sure how Eric didn't blow a gasket (ha! no pun intended) but I am pretty sure....no, in fact I KNOW it is the grace of our unbelievable God. I can't put all that God did in this blog, it would take two days to cronicle. But just know one thing...our God is bigger than our biggest problem and that He ALWAYS blesses obedience. Eric and I came together in prayer and thanksgiving and our God blessed us. Thank you Father for your amazing grace....and each day I realize more and more that I am the wretch that the song wrote about~
Until next time.....(no, there is NEVER a dull moment with me....always in some sort of trouble or doing something unbelievable, but like I keep saying, you can't make this stuff up~)

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Our Father....

A week or so ago, I was out and had asked my sister to "tuck the kids in" at bedtime. No Problem, right.....

WRONG. Not that it turned into a problem, however....my sister had a story for me when I got home. 7:30....bedtime for Adam. He got his jammies on, brushed his teeth (I hope) and got into bed and asked Aunt Terri to tuck him in and pray. This is a kid who CANNOT go to sleep without someone praying over him. If we ever forget, he is sure to remind us. Even if we are out, the phone rings and I have to pray over him on the phone, but this night Aunt Terri was sufficient. "OK, Adam, (and her prayer was the usual....) Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take. Adam, now I want you to pray". When I say that, he always says no, he doesn't want to. He only wants ME to. But apparently Aunt Terri has a little more pull than I do. So he starts, (and I will do this phoenitically) "Pa-Tare No Stare, Que-ess in Kalees san-tifica-Tor no men tuem. Advintiat regnum tuem fiat wolen-tas tua sea cut in kalo et in terra. Panum nostrum quo dede ah-newm da nobees ho de A et de-me-tay nobees debee-tah nostrah seacut et nose de-me-tee-moose debbie torey boose nostrease en ay nose. Into Kahs in tay tah-tay onem said lee-ber-ah nose (a) mah-lo. Amen"

Terri...."WHAT WAS THAT!" Adam...."The Lord's prayer in Latin" Terri....."What about english?!" Adam...."I don't know it in english"

until next time....

Sunday, October 10, 2010

God moving mountains.....

It occured to me today (when I was reminded by a friend) that I haven't blogged in ages. Unfortunately I can't think of anything funny, but God comes to my mind. In the last week, I have watched this God move mountains....I watched him save me from myself....put people in my path that don't even know me to pray for me (literally)....guard my family with a holy guarding....protect my boy on the football field while his quarterback got taken away in an ambulance (Adam is left guard)....provide a therapist from NO WHERE (and I mean NO WHERE) to help....schedule surgery, rides and help.....turn me from hopeless to hopeful in literally ONE day....clear roadways to get me places on time....provide answers and confirmed them supernaturally.....infuse me with energy and stamina to do what needed to be done.....tear down strongholds and take a heart of stone and replace it with a heart of flesh and renewed a steadfast spirit in me....and all the while keeping me smiling while you confirmed 8 ways til Sunday how much You love me.

Father God, only You could do these things and You know what else You have done for my family in the last week to confirm Your plan for us. You have provided healing, hope, strength, encouragement, peace, love and forgiveness that abounds. Father God, You are my Rock...my Great Physician....my Fortress....You are taking my hinds feet and placing them on High places. Jesus....You continue to cover me in the grace and forgiveness of Your blood....Holy Spirit....You continue to strengthem me and confirm the Father's ways to me. Father God, You are ABSOLUTELY everything to this once lost child of yours. You have shown me that You are Jehovah Shamah....Jehovah Jira....Abba....MY daddy.

Sunday, June 27, 2010

Just when you thought it was safe to go outside...


This is what you find. A thrashed barn. The day before this, Trent decided the grass was greener on the other side of the fence.....LITERALLY....and broke thru the gate to get to the other side.

He pulled up concrete and all! I awoke yesterday to "R, Trent is outside in the back yard with no halter on". OK....that is NEVER good. Especially since there was panic in the delivery. As I jumped out of bed (on my one lame leg and other recovering knee) and ran downstairs, I was feverishly trying to get the cobwebs out of my eyes and head. I could hardly believe my ears. And if that wasn't enuf, I find out as I get downstairs that they caught him, but that I am NOT going to be happy when I see what the barn looked like. This picture is but a smidge of the damage that he did. Somehow he got out. I am convinced there is a horsey burglar and once they saw how beautiful Trent was they came by to steal him. But once they saw him in action, they left him for me. He managed to get into EVERY bag of feed...even the ones we CAN'T open. He managed to get them ALL open. He thrashed the barn...turned over everything. So, we cannot put them in the ring cuz the ring is broken....remember, Trent did that yesterday. So Terri and I start (early) on the hunt for all the stuff we need to fix the barn. Wheelbarrow (bigger than the one we had)....ANOTHER 32 gallon gigundo garbage pail with lid to put all the opened bags of food. And of course Trenton couldn't do this BEFORE I get a huge shipment of food and bedding....NNNNNOOOOOO.....He waits until AFTER the shipment comes. We needed pitchforks, bags, pails, bell boots (cuz Buddy threw a shoe and took a hunk out of his hoof), rope halters with knots for control of Trent....whew. After that, we came home. Just in time to do all the work while it was 98 degrees and humid as all get out. I had to transfer horse from stall to stall to muck the stalls. Then, bathe both cuz both were covered in muck from being in stalls all day. Then the real work began. It took four of us well over three hours to clean up all the mess he made.


This coming the day after he killed the ring....gate and all. (see above). OK, so "Hey R, Trent is out" should no longer be a surprise to me. In fact, I almost expect to come home these days to NO horses in the ring. My Buddy....well what can I say except that when I went out to the barn yesterday and you would not believe what I saw. Buddy had a glowing halo hanging over his head. He becomes more angelic each day that passes. So, I'm up, sore and heading back to horseman's outlet for yet more horse stuff. If Trenton wasn't so darn handsome I think I'd give him the boot. However, with that said....
Until next time...

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

May 15...




I know, it is only Wednesday, May 12, but there is something about that date...May 15...that carries with it a cloud. Almost literally. We here in NJ are supposed to wait until May 15 to do any planting. I assumed I just jumped the gun this year out of boredom waiting for my shoulder to heal. But, having looked back in my gardening journal, I found out that, well suffice it to say that there MAY be a pattern with me here.
My sister says for sure. And she has only participated in this one growing season, but in her humble opinion, she thinks there is most definitely a pattern of early planting. OK, so I had my surgery Mar 15. Totally out of commission for a week, then slowly recouping. So let's say I made it to mid April before getting the itch. So Mid April, given the weather pattern thus far, seemed completely appropriate to put a FEW things around here. We had summerlike weather the entire month of April til this point. So I planted a few things here and there...oh....that's not completely true at all. In fact, I planted very little. It was my poor sister Terri who planted nearly everything the first time around. (Did that just pop out of my mouth like that! The FIRST time around...yes, there was a second time around). OK, so with that said, it got cold. Now, if I could have, I would have pulled all those plants in myself but because of my shoulder, I couldn't...so I got Terri. And she pulled them all in. Then in the beginning of May it got beautiful again and Terri put them all back outside.
And then I decided it was time to plant more things. So we went...that is...Terri and I. She says that I do the driving, she just pushes the petals and steers the wheel...But we came home and we planted more. This time petunias, herbs, tomatoes, lettuce...the hearty stuff. Then if you can even believe it, a frost came last week AGAIN.

What did I do? No, I didn't panic...I called Terri...and Terri brought all the plants that she planted the second time around in the house along with the plants that never had a chance to make it to a pot before the frost. This is where I started...
That May 15th date. I met a man recently. His name is Joe. He must be late seventies. I was grazing Buddy on what I thought was public property but apparently it wasn't. It is Joe's property. This very kind old man came over to me and said, "Oh, I thought you were my daughter Jill with her horse.". I said, "No, I'm just grazing my boy trying to beef him up and thought this was part of the high school". "Nah" Joe answered, "it's my property and I want you to bring him here ANY time to graze him. I'm going in to prepare the garden". "Oh, you garden?" I asked. "Are you planting anything fun?". "No," Joe answered, "I'm just going to weed and prepare the soil".

What a multitude of lessons there. I wasn't Jill (made me sad) but I did remind him of her and apparently that made him happy - which made me happy. Also, Joe was old and wise enough to know that he should only prepare the garden, not plant the garden, before May 15.
So, that is what the pictures are...the round of frost survivors...and some are questionable at that...

Next year, will I wait? I hope so, but given that I seemed to do the same thing in 2007 and 2008 (2009 is missing altogether) and 2010, I might....I just might not make the deadline (or early line) next year, either...
Until next time...

Friday, May 7, 2010

Ouch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


All right. I have done some bizzarre things in my life...for real. I have darn near run myself over (I'll save that one for another time), I have been hit by a car, I have jumped out my window and nearly broke my ankle, I have walked around on a broken ankle for 9 days...I could go on and on. However, I do believe yesterday tops the list (lately anyway) of all time stupid things to do...even for me!


I went out to the barn to check things out. Make sure there are no critters (mice), check the traps, and of course check the plants I planted outside the barn (clematis) which were near dead by the time I got them IN the ground. I was sure they were totally dead by now, but much to my surprise, they were alive and well. Actually greening up and looking to climb something. When I prepared the garden outside the barn for planting (cleared away about three years of leaves, junk and decayed mulch) I found the mother of all cactus plants growing. AMAZING. A cactus (large I might add) growing in NJ...surviving winters. The thing is HUGE. Well, I decided to leave it at that time because I was just amazed. Well yesterday when I saw my two little plants struggling to survive the massive cactus, I decided to pull it...bare handed. Heck...there were NO visible prickers on it. NONE. So I grabbed all the way down near the root (apparently where the prickers are razor sharp and the size of hair) to pull and within seconds I was on my knees in pain with a hand full of razor sharp prickers that you literally could NOT see.


Now I know what you ALL are thinking because I thought the very same thing....IDIOT GIRL! What kind of an idiot grabs a cactus (visible or invisible prickers) by the base and pulls! Who on earth does that! IDIOT GIRL! So I stood there, staring at the deeply evil purpetrator who left me wounded and scarred...the damn cactus. I cannot even describe in words what was going through my head...it would be banned from Facebook for all the expletives! OK, now I needed to devise a plan to get these things out of my hand...which needed to be clever because I can not even see the damn (oops, darn) prickers, but boy oh boy could I feel them.


So I began feeling around with my other hand to find them. Man, as soon as I rubbed over one it was like a chard of glass pounding in my hand. HHHHHMMMMMM......OK, so I decided, since I can't see them but could feel them with my other hand (barely) but could not pull them out because they were like 1/8" long - AT BEST! So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided to feel around with my tongue till I felt them and then use my teeth to pull them out. OK, plan seems reasonable. So I started feeling around....BINGO! Got one. Success. BINGO - got another. OH! WAIT! What is that! NO WAY! That pricker made its way from the tip of my tongue to my gums. ALL OF THEM! So now I am trying to pull prickers out of my tongue and gums AND the hand that is still loaded with hair like prickers.


To make a longer story short....I had no success with my nails so I went upstairs to get a tweezer to pull them out. Suffice it to say that if you cannot see them in your hand you surely cannot see them in your mouth on the roof of your mouth none the less. So after about 45 minutes of unsuccessful attempts, I decided to just let them take up residence there and hope for the best. This was yesterday...


Today my mouth is sore, but my ego is more sore. This definitely ranks up there with running myself over with my own car!


Until next time...

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Have you seen your family?...


Yup. That is what my sister just said. As I sat here, I said, "Boy, I have nothing to blog about. I used to blog and blog and blog". Her reply? "There's plenty to blog about...have you seen your family?" OK, so what does that mean? I thought we were pretty normal. Well, I know "normal" is a relative term, but comparitively, I really did think we were normal. Well, having just asked Terri what she meant, the only name that came up (over and over mind you) was Adam. Fancy that.

He is our wild child. Always has been. His pendulum does NOT ever rest in the middle. He is either WAY happy or WAS upset. This morning...it was the latter. He went to bed late, which equates to whine and cry mornings. To the point where I actually took him into the office and spanked him. I haven't spanked him in like a year (hhhhmmmm....maybe there is a correlation....need to ponder that one). He can't find his belt, he hasn't eaten, we're gonna be late, he didn't take his medicine...he DID take his medicine. Now let me see if I can type it the way I hear it....(remember to raise your voice 3 octives when you read it)..."I caaaaaan't find my belttttttttttt...I haven't eeeeeaaaattttteeeeeeennnnn....wwweeeeeeee'rrrrrrrrreeee gonna be late...I diiiiiiiiidn't take my meeeeeedddddiiiiiccccciiiinnnnneeee....I DDDDDDIIIIIIIIDDDDDD take my mmmmeeeeddddiiiicccciiiinnnneeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And on and on it went. I was upstairs the whole time and could feel the reverbiration of the whine all the way up there. The more I write the more I realize this isn't even funny. In fact, it is annoying. Then after he composed himself, Terri told me on the way to school they had a talk. About the whining you ask? No...about a beach/boardwalk we found yesterday. I said it is too expensive to go. Even if we were conservative we would drop $200. So Terri came up with an idea. She suggested to the kids that they save their money and then we can go. Adam's response? "Where are YOU gonna get money". Terri said "Let me worry about that". Then Adam asked if Aunt Terri thought if he paid for his rides and games would I pay him back! There is the mindset of my wild child. Answer to that one.....a resounding NO!

Quite the car ride I would imagine. I just thankful I wasn't there. She is a kid like them and when I am in the car I have to reprimand them ALL....yes....that includes Aunt Terri. Living with extended family is quite unique...sister....mother....kids....husband in the middle of it all....Lord bless his soul!

Until next time...

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Face. (huh?) FACE...You know, Face...Face (hhhmmm)

And that is where I started thinking I have to remember this conversation to blog when I get home because this one I can type. Typing what I hear come out of my cambodian sisters mouth is sometimes a tall order. You figure out how to type an american word that was hammered by her sweet cambodian mouth...it ain't easy! But this one...now this one I can type.

We were driving to the surgeon for a 6 week follow up with my shoulder...My doc. adores Victoria and so I thought it would be fun to go together. On the way, we were talking about stuff and she began to say how we just need to have "face" to go on with our lives. Getting old...wrinkles...kids growing (= growing problems)...husbands...illness...you name it. We aren't getting any younger. But for the life of me I could not understand why she thinks we need face. I mean, speaking for myself, I could do without that face that stares back at me in the mirror each day that I cannot even recognize. I mean, why so many wrinkles and grey hair and who's neck IS that anyway! I have been contimplating using that neck exerciser (as seen on tv - lol) to make that chicken neck go away and hope for the return of my OWN neck. Anyway, she kept saying we need "face". I would repeat her..."Face?". She would repeat it..."face". "Vic, why do we need face? I'm not getting it". She says, "No, FACE" as if I heard something different that time...Still hearing face. OK. "I don't think we need face. Afterall, Vic, face is the problem". She says, "No, face is NOT the problem. Face is the answer! Without it we are done!". Now at this point I am laughing out loud cause I KNOW she MUST be trying to say something other than face. And usually by this point in our conversation the word that she is trying to say is wrong (like OY for oil) and I finally get it because there IS no word "oy"...but not this time. She knows I am not getting it and she knows she cannot say it. And now we both are hysterical. She keeps saying face and I keep laughing. Finally she stopped and with the SLOWEST, most painful look on her face (ha! face - lol) she says, "FA......(and sticks her tongue between her teeth to make sure she doesn't mess this one up - as a Cambodian, that motion of the "th" sound is NOT native to her tongue. There is NO like sound in Cambodian, so imagine the effort it took to say this word) "TH". There. She said it. FAITH! I get it. We need FAITH!

....which is why when I cut her hair short and had sweeping bangs, she liked the back of her hair to "poo". "No, Vic, you do NOT want your hair to "poo". You want it to "Poof (emphasis on the f)". Again, no cambodian sound of "f". This ranks right up there with 'th". I gave her lesson after lesson how to say "poof" and she got it once. It was just as slow and just as painful as was "faith". But Victoria is my sweet cambodian sister who I sometimes have NO idea what she is saying...but in the end, if I keep "FAITH", I eventually get it. And she eventually makes it into my blog. Love ya Vic!

Until next time...

Anonymous Needs a name...

I was going to blog about a car ride I took with a friend, Victoria, but I will have to save that. I wanted to make sure I hadn't started a post and left it unfinished (how unlike me would that be!) but in fact, I hadn't. So I noticed that there were some comments on my blog....all signed anonymous. Now, not for nothing...but who is anonymous! One mentioned tootsie brennan (a friend's dog) but I am pretty sure Kristen doens't read my blogs...next? My school friend Dianne Lifrak. I was pretty sure that was it but the mention of Tootsie threw me. So I went thru a few blogs with comments and they are all anonymous. So, Anonymous. Here is the scoop on my shoulder. Much to my dismay, I have this sling ANOTHER 4-6 weeks and still NO driving. I can say that I am having to learn patience being driven everywhere but clearly need more practice. I have been obedient with this thing cuz I am sick and tired of wearing it and just want it off. Today it feels great, but that after three horrible days (for no reason)...doc says that is normal. OK, so Anon...I am slowing down. I am listening to doc. I AM wearing that stupid sling...I AM going back to PT this week and yes, anon, I am reading what you are writing, I just don't have a clue who you are.

Until next time...

And I was going to write about Victoria driving me to that doctor appointment...about a conversation we had about "face"...I mean, "faith"....depends on who you are talking to. Next time...

Thursday, April 15, 2010

You HAVE to be kidding me....


Ok, no one told me when I signed up for this stupid shoulder surgery that I would actually have to obey the surgeon's rules. I never had to before..why should I now, right? WRONG! Ok, so I knew it would be about 3 months before I get up to speed again, about 6-8 weeks in a sling (maybe more) but no one told me those were hard fast rules. My knee reconstruction had some "rules" attached but I didn't exactly obey them and my surgeon didn't have a cow when I didn't. He was actually willing to allow me to "push" thru some tuff stuff to speed the process along.

Not this one. Nope. Not the shoulder. It seems to be the only stinkin joint in the entire body that has these stupid rules that "must" be adhered to. All right...so I am not the most patient person in the entire world. I will clue you in to how much so. It was the morning of surgery and the nurse came out to get me. They led me into a room and gave me simple instructions....disrobe completely (less underwear) and put the robe on, opening in front. Check. I got changed and went out and the nurse said "boy, you don't waste any time". "you told me to get dressed. I did. Now I'm done". HHHHMMMM....I wondered what kind of a comment that was. How long could it possibly take to change clothes?!? Post note: post surgery it takes nearly 20 minutes! Then, I go to the pre surgical room to be hooked up to monitors and the like and to discuss anesthesia with the doc. Done. Another nurse comes in and says, "boy, you are FAST. Most people are still in the dressing room and you are already hooked up and cleared for surgery". More pondering. Maybe it IS me. I am thinking I go at a normal pace. Well, normal for New Jersey anyway. Ok, where was I? Oh yes, these stupid rules.

So, my surgeon said no using the arm at all (his direct quote was "passive movement only") for 6-8 weeks. Now in my humble opinion he should have made more clear the definition of "passive". I took that to mean no weight bearing, no stress or resistence, right? Of course he meant that. So, on the fourth day when I retuned to have the stitches removed I asked if I could deep six the sling. Not exactly he advised, but I could take the arm out and rest it on my lap while sitting or standing if I was so inclined. And so I was. My therapy started week two. The therapists were shocked as most people with rotator cuff repairs don't start therapy until about the four week marker. I wanted to get the show on the road. As a matter of fact, the therapist, on the first day, just took information from me and advised that until she actually spoke to the surgeon to confirm that it was OK to start, we really couldn't do anything. More pondering. Did she actually think I faked the "admit slip" like I did in high school? The following Monday I got the green light to go...on the tenth day post surgery. Great...let's get this show on the road.

Now by this time, I am spending most of my days out of the sling and still taking pain meds but shoulder in pretty good shape. OK, I can tolerate some pain and pain there was, but that is why they make meds. I took them as I needed and continued to "exercise" my shoulder as I could with the opinion that the more the better, right? Who wants a stiff joint or muscle atrophy? Not me. Nope, not this chick. Nearing the third week when I was finally able to wash my hair with two hands in the shower, I could barely contain myself. When I got to therapy I was so excited I blurted out to my therapist Lisa, "Lis, guess what! I washed my own hair with BOTH hands today"...as I watched the color drain from her face and the look turn somber. Uh, not exactly the reaction I had hoped for. "Arrie!" she nearly yelled then regrouped and lowered her voice and said, "you don't mean you raised your hand over your head and actually did this (as she made frantic motions with her hands like she was car washing her head!)?"...I wanted to say no. Everything in me was saying, "say no....say no" but I couldn't. I muttered "uh huh". She took the chart and began writing. Now I have gone to enough therapists and doctors in my days to know when they get quiet and grab a chart and frantically start writing it is NEVER good. When she was done she said, "Passive movements means you do NOT engage the muscle at all. NO movement unless someone else is doing it for you". "oh" I muttered. I went on to explain what I took "passive" to mean. Needless to say, our therapy session was over before it began. She was unwilling to do anything until I saw my surgeon again, which coincidentally was the next day.

I got to the doctor's office and he walked in. "Hey, R. How's it going?" "Great, or so I thought" I said. He looked me square in the eye and said, "go ahead. Tell me what you did". (This coming from the doctor who told my sisters when they took me for surgery that I was not to drive for minimum four weeks and followed up with, "I know she will cheat"). I told him what I did and how crushed I was when I found out I was naughty. Who knew? Well, apparently everyone but me as I later found out in Bible study. He then advised SLING 24/7 for three more weeks and a possible MRI then as an MRI that day would only show inflamation and he could not see a new tear even if there was one. UGH. So, back in the sling I go for three more weeks. PS, I got hell at bible study (oops...see the irony in that statement) from several friends who knew the protocol for rehabbing a rotator cuff and saw me writing, eating and the like. I thought all this WAS passive and all this AFTER the last doc visit.

Ok, so they were NOT kidding me. I HAVE to rely on someone to do EVERYTHING for me. NO carrying anything. No getting dressed alone. No washing hair alone. No gardening. No hammering...sweeping, writing, eating right handed....NOTHING. And this is killing me. I have gained 10 pounds I am sure from the stress of having to sit around and watch everyone else do all the things I am supposed to be doing. Some day I will get it but it wasn't today. I lifted 2 twenty five pound bags of horse feed today before I felt that "ouch" and searched out some help for the other two bags. The phrase that rings in my head all day long is "you have to be kidding me"....

Nope, they aren't kidding me. Not at all. So two more weeks in the sling (oh, don't tell anyone that my arm is out of the sling to type this blog) and then we will hopefully get the green light to drive and move on to "partial assist" therapy.

Until next time...(oh...and that thing on the guys shoulder is a cryo cuff and yes, I lived with that thing for 7 days solid...that is EXACTLY what I looked like for the first week. And I lived in that chair as well!)

Monday, April 12, 2010

What's wrong with this picture!

A barn with no horse in it and a hose in someone else's barn! What's wrong with this picture! Other than everything...nothing! Ok, so this is the story of my life. We decide to move. To Chester that is. Notice we never made it to Chester. Nope. God had other plans. So, we moved from Long Valley to Long Valley, but the kicker is that our new home has a beautiful barn. I had two horses, but one has passed away, and the other we are paying to board somewhere else. Is that hysterical! We are PAYING SOMEONE ELSE to keep our horse when we have a beautiful barn AND a paddock, AND a ring and NO horse in it. For the money we pay someone else, we could use for food and keep him here. The benefit of boarding him somewhere else? I don't have to muck stalls twice a day and do turnouts every morning and each night. But, I don't have my boy here, either. I cannot ride when I want to (hhhmmm...not sure I could ride even if he WAS here right now....my arm is in a sling due to a recent surgery...well it SHOULD be in a sling right now, but then I cannot type....that's another story all together!).

Where was I? Oh yes...riding. No, barn. That's it. So I have done my research, have bids out on expanding the paddock, have cleaned the barn and it is ready for hay and of course, horses. I have been on a search for another Percheron. Actually I found one...Captain. The hitch is that he is in Ohio. Well, not a hitch for me, but is for Eric. $800 adoption fee (ridable - he is a rescue from being a carriage horse) and about $800 to ship him, but Eric is not on board with the whole thing. I don't really get it, but whatever.

So, this post is pretty much done. A horse and a barn....neither together. Someday soon I hope. Someday soon. Until next time...

Monday, April 5, 2010

My God...

I have been a believer for just over 10 years. The Lord has delivered me from many things in those ten years and has been ever so patient while this thick head and leather neck of mine, at times, refused to bend. But He redeems it all.

In the last nearly two years, I have gone thru some sort of funk where I find myself vascillating (more than usual) in my faith...to the point of actually a full sprint away in the last six months. In that time period, I have been gently whispered to by God, then gently nudged, then "shaken" if you will, then "warned" sternly that I was teetering on total disaster. During this time, He has allowed some health issues to arise, I would imagine in an attempt to get me to slow down and finally listen. I had an implant in my mouth that didn't take, so now I have to have another surgery to have another post implanted in my jaw...I had one ganglian cyst on my foot which prevented me from going to the gym, and now there are three. I have a kidney stone which caused some serious bleeding that now needs to be surgically removed because it is too large to pass. I tore my rotator cuff and had surgery three weeks ago and am unable to drive for 4-6 weeks. He even took my beloved horse, Karly, from me. One would think that all this would get me to slow down, repent, turn around and spend time home with my Lord, getting back to the only secure place I have ever stood in my entire life....but NNNNNNOOOOOOO. This Italian is too darn thick headed. So in a full sprint I ran....until Good Friday, April 2, 2010.

Now in an attempt to not bear my ENTIRE soul here for the world to read, let's just say that the culmination of all this ended with a bang. In my time running, I would still periodically be fairly close to Jesus, but not nearly where I used to be. I ran places I didn't even know I was capable of going to. I jumped in pits deeper than I could ever imagine going. One person once quipped, "Sin will always take you farther than you ever intended to go, keep you longer than you ever intended to stay, and cost you far more than you ever intended to pay".....and boy is that the truth.

See, the Lord makes this Christian walk quite simple...Know the Lord, follow his decrees and when we fall (and we ALL do), allow Him to dust you off and get right back on track. Pray, know His word and allow the power of HIS Spirit work within you. But people like me complicate matters. I often wonder....why He chose me. My best guess is that if we were all Billy Grahams or Martin Luthers, that would be no fun for Him. He must choose people like me, knowing the trouble I would cause, and knowing I would be a handful to "raise" up. But, for whatever His reason, He did choose me, and Lord knows....I HAVE BEEN A HANDFUL!

But I am an expert runner....queen of masquerade. And not just a sprinter, or short distance runner. I am a marathon runner. And I'm fast. Now, I clearly do not mean that literally....I can't even get out of my own way when it comes to running. But figuratively, I am a marathon runner. But He is faster than even me. And when He means business, He means business. And He FINALLY got my attention. Why am I writing all this? Because I just want everyone to know some things about the Lord.
1) He is bigger than any problem we could ever have
2) He will never let you go completely
3) He is long suffering in patience....even when you have been so far gone
4) His love never wavers
5) He will never leave you nor foresake you....He goes to the deepest pit WITH you.
6) He will protect you (and your family) if you let Him
7) When you trust Him, He will amaze you (if you just get out of His way and let HIM do the work - believe it or not - He is quite capable without MY help!)
8) He will mend the most broken heart and spirit!

So, everyone, when you think you are too far gone, used goods, not even capable of turning back, remember this...He will NOT stop until He has your FULL UNDIVIDED attention, and will shower mercy and grace upon you even at the bottom of the pit!

He is amazing like that. That pit stinks, a real stench. But it doesn't bother Him. He has told me recently, "I am tired of your running and you will not listen. This is my final warning...." and that did it. Then, to my amazement, once He had my attention, He whispered to me, "Now....are you ready to allow me to show you my love? Show you that you CAN trust me? Show you that YOU are ALL that matters to me? And Arrie....know that I never stopped loving you, not once. I can't. I am love. And you, Arrie, are the daughter of the King. Let me rebuild that broken spirit, but this time, I require simply one thing....an undivided heart".

So my friends, I am so lost that I don't even know where to begin. But He does. He will guide me. He has held my hand. He has showered grace upon grace on me. He has kept me....once again. And for me....where does that leave me? Lost, scared to death, tired from running, hurt, broken and empty. But that's all ok, because until we go to Him EMPTY, we cannot allow Him to fill us with what only He can.

So Father, it's finally You and me. Finally. Now, I will pray for a renewed spirit to keep me, energy to continue, and peace thru it. And the beauty of the entire mess? I know He will deliver every bit of that and more.

Until next time...

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Karly - with a "K" That is, Ryan Day Karly Lyn to be exact....R.I.P....





Many of you already know, but for those who don't, much has happened over the last 12 months. I have not blogged much, but did tell you all about my blessed Karly (with a K). Unfortunately, on Saturday, March 13 - just two days before I had surgery to repair a torn rotator cuff - Karly died. She was a young and tender 13.
I got the dreaded call...."R, Karly is down. Hurry up and get here". I ran~ I was there in about 4 minutes...about as long as it took me to throw on my mucking boots and rain coat and speed there. It was POURING rain for the third day in a row and bitter cold. When I got there, there was only the barn owner's 18 year old son, Justin, keeping Karly on her feet. I took over. However, she was throwing me around - literally - like a rag doll. My sister Terri, Raechyl and I did our best to keep her on her feet. She would pull me anywhere she wanted while I desperately tried to keep her on her feet. 2000 pounds versus 140 pounds - you do the math. It was NOT pretty. You can't let a colicking horse go down...you walk them and walk them to prevent them from going down. This went on for over an hour until the owner and help arrived. The vet was not far behind. We had SO much medicine on board that she should have been paralyzed, but the pain was so intense it barely affected her. We had no choice but to race her to the hospital.

In the end, Karly lost the battle at nearly 9 pm that evening. It is something I could never describe to anyone what it is like to see a 2 ton creature that 6 hours ago was lively and fine covered in mud (my white horse) from head to toe, writhing in pain, unable to stand, lose the battle of her life. The 2000 pound nearly 19 hand beautiful white Karly staring me in the eye on the floor of the stall in the hospital begging me to make the pain stop....and I could do NOTHING but watch. I prayed, we medicated her with enough medication to put four horses out of pain and she still writhed in pain until she could finally take no more. And at about 9 pm that evening, she died.

She was my first horse. Yes, I have Buddy, but he is leased and isn't technically mine though we are all he knows...Karly and I took months, hours each and every day to build a friendship...a relationship where she could trust me. One where, in the end, she would come the minute she saw me in the pasture. One where she trusted me, and I trusted her. One where she knew I was hers, and she mine. One that, unfortunately, ended before it began. My Karly...gone.

I had her cremated. She is now in my living room, a small token of the first horse I ever actually owned...the first one I took the time each day with to build a trusting friendship that was give and take. She gave love like no other horse I know. Her giant black eyes. She would put her nostril up to my mouth to smell my breath...she would inhale long and stare right into my eyes as if to say, "Yup, it's you allright. The one I trust". I cut her mane that night. I have the braid on her box of ashes with a frame and three pictures of me and her. Me and my Karly.

Karly never did get to come home. Now, I look out back at my new house and see the barn that Karly should have called home. I see the pasture out side my house that Karly should be in. But the Lord did not see fit for that to be. I have learned these recent days that I must trust in the Lord. His plans are best. So for now, I have only a braid, a box and a frame to look at, but inside I have the love of a giant gently draft horse that changed this girls life forever.

My Karly....She is very sorely missed.

Until next time...

Saturday, March 6, 2010

Carly....That's how much I knew about her....


Her name is actually KARLY (not Carly). Her actual name is Ryan Day Karly Lyn. Now, I do not pretend to know why any breeder would put that many names on ANY horse, but they do. They are usually some combination of the sire and the mare. In this case, it is that and then some. In any event, I convinced Eric to take her as a rescue...an "easy keep" as we horse people like to say. That is a horse that requires not much of anything. Karly stays out to pasture and that is it. $200 a month in boarding and that is it. Oh yes, quarterly hoof trimming ($60) and 1 annual vet visit. No big one, right?


Guess again.


Within the first week we owned her, she colicked. That is what happens when horses get sick. They cannot throw up so if they get sick, their intestines and colon get backed up, twisted or something in between and it can cause them to die. Many times, they do. And the process is fast. I got a call from the barn owner that Karly was "down" (not a good thing). When horses are down, they are sick. Not that they never lay down, but she was clearly in pain. When this happens, you call the vet and try to get the horse up and walking. I got there as soon as I could and spent the next hour, while waiting for the vet, walking her around to try to keep her on her feet. This is protocol with colick. As soon as I would stop walking her, she would go down. We would get her up and repeat the process. Finally, I knew she was just going to collapse so I brought her into a stall, let her go down and prayed for the vet to get there.


She did. She examined Karly and made a determination that she had a blockage. We got some meds on board and "tubed" her. This is sticking a hose down the nose into the stomach and flushing with an oil/water combo to determine if there was a twist in her gut. If the water comes flushing out her other nose, she has one and we would have to put her down. She did not have a twist so we sedated her and spend the next 24 hours walking her every 2 hours and keeping her well sedated. The long and short of it is she made it. It took three days but she is back to her old gentle self.


However, our "easy keep" that would only cost us $200 a month ended up costing us nearly a thousand dollars the first week we owned her. She is still my gentle giant. I love her and I love my husband who works so hard for me to keep her.


Until next time...