Thursday, November 19, 2009

Little Miracles

This is Mr. Funny. Today is his 8th birthday!

We had his party last Saturday because we are leaving this weekend for the holidays. I just wanted to introduce him officially today and wish him a Very Happy Birthday! I can hardly believe that its been 8 years since we met for the first time. I remember every little detail about his puffy little face that night. I also remember the story...our story. I wasn't supposed to have him. He wasn't supposed to make it. I went for my 1st doctor's visit with his pregnancy expecting good news, what I got was not exactly good. To accurately pinpoint a due date, an ultrasound was done. The problem was that they couldn't find a baby. In fact, quite honestly they couldn't find my uterus. After lots of tries and some equipment changes, it was determined that my uterus had fallen backwards. The doctor came in afterwards and as gently as he could explained that this was not good. It made for poor
growing conditions for the baby. He did not think the baby would be receiving adequate blood supply. The chances were very slim that the baby would grow enough to cause the uterus to right itself. He could tell that I wasn't really comprehending what he was saying. He leaned forward, put his hand on my hand and said, " Melanie, do not get used to the idea of being pregnant. I do not think this baby will survive." It knocked the wind out of me. I was numb. I went home and broke the news to my husband and parents. We were devastated. This was not a planned pregnancy by any means but that did not change the fact that from the moment we thought he existed, he did exist to us. Our faith tells us that life is present at conception....this was a tiny person fighting for his life. I felt helpless and lost. I lay on the couch for days and cried. I was completely useless to my husband and two
other children who were 5 and 18 months. I had visions of him in there suffocating for lack of oxygen and blood. A little tiny baby, gasping for air. It was horrible. After a week of being useless, I decided to do something. I went back to see the doctor. I explained that I was useless and needed a job. I needed him to tell me something useful I could do. I just could not sit around and wait for my baby to die. I wouldn't. He understood me. He told me that if I stayed on bedrest, laying on my right side, for the next several weeks there was a chance....a slight one....that the baby might had enough blood supply to grow larger. If it grew large enough the fluid that surrounded it might act like a balloon and right the womb. He stressed to me that the odds were that this was a waste of time, but that at least I could feel like I had done everything I could have. He did caution me that he
did not know how the lack of blood flow at the beginning, crucial time of pregnancy would affect the baby. There was a chance that the baby may be born with some sort of disability. Was I prepared for that? He also told me that he hadn't recommended this before because he thought it might be false hope and he knew I had other children to care for. I understood him but thanked him for humoring me. After 12 weeks of bedrest and three ultrasounds the doctor happily announced that my body was cooperating! We had a healthy baby on the way!! I only spent 3 months on my feet. By my 7th month the baby had grown so large that he was damaging nerves. My legs started going numb and I started falling. Back to bed I went. 10 weeks later, and three days overdue, Mr. Funny arrived in a whirlwind of chaos. After only a 3 hour labor I was holding my third son. The Doctor smiled when he looked at him
and told me, " He's a stubborn little cuss....gets that from you." And he is stubborn. Just like his Momma. He was born perfectly healthy, except for asthma. I pray for a long, healthy and happy life for him. I am blessed to have you, Mr. Funny!

Tuesday, November 17, 2009

Follow up on the art!

Well, I am learning to send blogs through my texts, so I don't have to log onto the internet every time. Cool, right? Well, the last post was one such post and it didn't exactly go as planned. I had the art dispersed throughout the post and a little blurb about what I liked about each. Since that didn't work so well, let me say a little about each piece here. The second piece is the very famous "Starry Night" by Vincent Van Gogh. I love the swirls and something out of a dream. Yes, I dream in color. The third painting is "Antibes" by Claude Monet. He is the best known Impressionist, but he is most famous for his flower and garden scenes. I like this one best because for me it kind of blurs the lines between peace and loneliness. The last painting is called "Moonlit Scene in the Environs of Citta Nuova in Illyria" by Claude Joseph Vernet. Long name, beautiful realism. I
just love the warm moonlight and the reflection off of the water. Its very dark, but to me breathtaking. The detail in this one awes me everytime I look at it. If you look closely you can see people working on the dock and having a bonfire. The minute detail in this one is my favorite thing. It looks like a photograph. Well, these are a few of my favorite paintings but by no means is this all of them. Now that I have figured out how to post pictures, I look forward to sharing even more with you!

Art that I love

I love paintings. I love paintings more than any other type of art, save the written word. Paintings tell a story visually. The painting above is called "Christina's World" by Andrew Wyeth. Mr. Wyeth passed away this year. We have one less master because of that. I know that you might look at it and not see anything special, but when I look at it I think of a whole host of things. I first saw it at the LLlibrary of my middle school. It hung in a darker, quiet corner that no one visited. I used to go to that corner to escape my life, read and stare at that painting. I didn't know anything about the painting or it's creator. The nameplate just simply held the painting's name. I've remembered it my whole life and was surprised to discover just this week that it is a very famous painting. In my memory it only belonged to me. See, when I look at the young girl in the painting I see a young
girl who looks like she might be in pain, might be looking at that house and wishing she could get away. That story is completely imagined however because the girl in truth was Mr. Wyeth's neighbor. She had Polio and was disabled. He chose her because of her strength and resilience. I looked at her and saw emotional pain, he looked at her and saw strength. This is so paramount to me, I can barely describe it. To know why, you have to know a little about me. You would have to know, for instance, that I grew up impossibly poor, emotional bankrupt, sexually abused and physically beaten. You also have to know that no one knew. I confided in no one, but when I looked at that painting I thought I could see someone who might understand my pain....someone who might have her own pain and secrets. Mr. Wyeth's "Christina" comforted me the way no one else could at that time in my life. Now, not
all art brings that level of emotional attachment for me, but all paintings evoke something out of me. For instance, I know that I prefer Realism to Impressionism and Impressionism to Abstraction. I actually don't like Abstract Art much at all.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Putting My Foot Down

Ok, its time for the rubber to meet the road. Its time for me to put my (imaginary) money where my mouth is. Its time for me to put up or shut up, and about a million other cliches. I have been obsessing about writing since I was a child. I have been telling those closest to me for at least the last several months that I want to write. I have been blogging for the last half dozen weeks...and I haven't written anything substantial yet. I'm a starter. What does that mean?? It means I have umpteen beginnings and even middles to all the things I have written, yet I have yet to actually finish anything! What is my problem?? I prefer to write on actual paper...its a texture thing. I like the feel of the pen in my hand. I like the smell of the ink and the notebook. I even like my penmanship. The thing that always gets me in the end is time. I have to put the notebook and pen down at some point...I have to come up for air. When I write, I write obsessively. No one else exists. Time stops. I hear no one...nothing. I am in my own little world where these characters alone are the only inhabitants. My thoughts are not my own, they belong to the people in the story. Its a little scary actually, kind of like channelling I would think. But, eventually the bubble pops. I am called to something else. I have to tend to a child, or answer the phone, or cook a meal. One by one my characters dissolve. Their thoughts and problems drift upward, skyward, to the great unknown. They do not exist. I am their only link to the concrete world and I do not even hold them here permanently. I can only hold them here as long as I concentrate on it. The second I become distracted I lose my hold over them. They vanish. Once or twice I have been able to reconnect with them to try to finish what I've started. "Now let me think, where were we??" Its never the same. The second glimpse is not as sharp as the first. Like a copy of a copy. Grainy. Blurry around the edges. There has never been a third glimpse. How can I get anything written and completed in one sitting? Short story, you say? Nope. I'm a long winded gal...detail rich and long winded. I can't say everything I want to say in one sitting. Anybody who has ever talked to me on the phone knows that first hand! So, how do I push past this (hopefully) temporary hurdle and actually finish what I start? The short answer to that is: I don't know. What I do know is that I have the desire to. I have the willingness to. Now I have the reason to. November is National Novel Writing Month, known popularly as NaNoWriMo. I just like saying NaNoWriMo, don't you? The premise is to write a novel in 30 days. 50,000 words in 30 days. Good Gravy, what a goal. I've never finished any fiction that I've ever started...and that is going to change. Now. I am already 3 days behind. That's almost 2000 words a day. What about the days I work? Can I possibly do this? I don't know, but I know that I want to. Sweet Lord, I want to. You know what? Its very likely I will fail, but I'm not going to let that stop me from trying. I am asking for encouragment. I am asking for prayer. I may even be asking for caffeine and chocolate before its over because I'll be writing like a crazy person. The finished product will probably be a poor excuse for a story. That's not really the point though. The point, for me at least, is to finish it. To actually finish what I've started would be the best early Christmas present I could give myself. Here's to an early Christmas and the end of an unwelcome era. Stop by and ask me how its going this month. It helps me to know there is someone who wants to see me succeed.

Sunday, November 1, 2009

Psalm 119 - 20 Day Challenge: Day # 4

I'm such a bad Blogger. Its a good thing no one that I know of has been trying to follow my 20 Day Challenge, cause if they had been I have abandoned them! I have not blogged in about two weeks now. I have been very ill. For the first whole week, I couldn't even get off the couch, much less blog a coherent thought. (No, I do not have the Swine Flu) The second week was recovery, but then I had a load of make up housework to do. So, with no further ado, here is Day #4.


Psalm 119:33-40

God, teach me lessons for living so that I can stay the course.
Give me insight so I can do what you tell me- my whole life one long, obedient response.
Guide me down the road of your commandments; I love traveling this freeway!
Give me a bent for your words of wisdom, and not for piling up loot.
Divert my eyes from toys and trinkets, invigorate me on the pilgrim way.
Affirm your promises to me-
Promises made to all who fear you.
Deflect the harsh words of my critics- but what you say is always good.
See how hungry I am for your counsel; preserve my life through your righteous ways.

What I got out of it:

A bent for your words of wisdom.

My prayer:

Father, please have mercy on my sinner's nature. I ask for "a bent for your words of wisdom". Instead of having a thirst for attention, stuff or earthly security, instill in me a love of your wisdom, a knack for understanding your word, a deep-seated need to be intimately connected to you. Bring me Lord the peace that I know only time spent with you can bring. Amen.

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