Happy Birthday, Cowboy Caleb!
17 years old…where have the years gone?
Thursday, March 29, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
History vs. History
"To the winner goes the spoils," is the quote. This doesn't just include power, riches, people or cattle. This also includes the history books.
History is written by the winners. I'm reminded of this almost every time I think about one of my favorite historical happenings: The War Between the States. (No, not the Civil War. That's the designation the winner gave it.) This week the home health office manager's husband is with his Civil Wartime Band on a train venture from here to the battlefield of Shiloh, Tennessee. They will be there for the 150th anniversary of that battle, complete with full costume and re-enactments. Wouldn't I love to join them for that!
Over the next couple of years there will be many anniversaries celebrated for the battles that occurred 150 years ago. But "celebrate" is not the right word. For what are we celebrating? The winner, of course. Abraham Lincoln. The emancipation of the slaves. The re-unification of a nation - by coercion.
I'm not saying emancipation is something that should not be celebrated. It should be. Slavery is wrong. It needed to be abolished. But that is NOT what the War Between the States was about. England freed it's slaves without one gun fired. It took years. It took persistence and endurance. It took a lot of maneuvering. But not a life was lost on a battlefield. Of course, the North won - so they dictate what the war was about.
In truth, as we think upon the tragedy that swept this nation 150 years ago (the total destruction and demoralization of the South, rights taken away from the citizens, a President who acted as a dictator - just to name a few of the tragedies) we should mourn not only over the hundreds of thousands of lives lost upon these battlefields but the loss of American freedom.
Those of us who are concerned about this nation that we love hate watching our freedoms disappear. We don't like the government keeping an eye on us via GPS and the internet, but "Old Honest Abe" did just that by tapping telegraph lines and intercepting private mail. We despise the bias of the press and the shutting down of the conservative media. Good old Lincoln tossed every newspaper owner, editor and writer he didn't like into high-security prisons and took away the right of habeas corpus. We don't like our troops being sent out as the world's peace keepers. President Abraham Lincoln ordered every state to raise troops for the national army. Why? In order to "defend the Union" by forcibly keeping the South intact. What about our leaders dictating authority where they have no right to do so? Well, Lincoln freed slaves in states he had no authority over - and left the slaves in states which were under his authority in bondage.
We groan under the loss of our freedoms today and yet "celebrate" the war that started the erosion of those freedoms this nation once enjoyed. But you won't hear that in an United States history book. Remember: the North won the war. And so to them go the spoils.
History is written by the winners. I'm reminded of this almost every time I think about one of my favorite historical happenings: The War Between the States. (No, not the Civil War. That's the designation the winner gave it.) This week the home health office manager's husband is with his Civil Wartime Band on a train venture from here to the battlefield of Shiloh, Tennessee. They will be there for the 150th anniversary of that battle, complete with full costume and re-enactments. Wouldn't I love to join them for that!
Over the next couple of years there will be many anniversaries celebrated for the battles that occurred 150 years ago. But "celebrate" is not the right word. For what are we celebrating? The winner, of course. Abraham Lincoln. The emancipation of the slaves. The re-unification of a nation - by coercion.
I'm not saying emancipation is something that should not be celebrated. It should be. Slavery is wrong. It needed to be abolished. But that is NOT what the War Between the States was about. England freed it's slaves without one gun fired. It took years. It took persistence and endurance. It took a lot of maneuvering. But not a life was lost on a battlefield. Of course, the North won - so they dictate what the war was about.
In truth, as we think upon the tragedy that swept this nation 150 years ago (the total destruction and demoralization of the South, rights taken away from the citizens, a President who acted as a dictator - just to name a few of the tragedies) we should mourn not only over the hundreds of thousands of lives lost upon these battlefields but the loss of American freedom.
Those of us who are concerned about this nation that we love hate watching our freedoms disappear. We don't like the government keeping an eye on us via GPS and the internet, but "Old Honest Abe" did just that by tapping telegraph lines and intercepting private mail. We despise the bias of the press and the shutting down of the conservative media. Good old Lincoln tossed every newspaper owner, editor and writer he didn't like into high-security prisons and took away the right of habeas corpus. We don't like our troops being sent out as the world's peace keepers. President Abraham Lincoln ordered every state to raise troops for the national army. Why? In order to "defend the Union" by forcibly keeping the South intact. What about our leaders dictating authority where they have no right to do so? Well, Lincoln freed slaves in states he had no authority over - and left the slaves in states which were under his authority in bondage.
We groan under the loss of our freedoms today and yet "celebrate" the war that started the erosion of those freedoms this nation once enjoyed. But you won't hear that in an United States history book. Remember: the North won the war. And so to them go the spoils.
Friday, March 23, 2012
In Memory
Think for a moment of three things you have achieved in your life. They could be a reward you received, the fact that you survived college, your children, a published article or playing the piano. Write each of these things on a separate slip of paper.
Now, take this first one, crumple it up and toss it in the trash. You no longer remember how to do this.
Take the second slip of paper, crumple it up and toss it in the trash. You no longer remember ever having done this.
Last, take the third slip of paper, crumple it up and toss it in the trash. You remember enjoying this, but because of physical frailties you can no longer participate in this activity.
This is what it is like to have Alzheimer's or dementia. For some of us, it would be like loosing your entire life.
A friend told me this week I think too much about getting old. Maybe I do, but I'm around old 40 hours a week. Death is a weekly part of my life. I hear stories about 80-year-olds acting like 2-year-olds, skin tears, morphine, strokes and the like every day. It just becomes a part of the way you think. Yesterday one of the nurses gave an in-service on the diseases of Alzheimer's and dementia. For the first time I realized what sad diseases they are.
Women with Alzheimer's who have husbands that care for them can live in a world of fear. Why? Because if they can still remember being married, they remember their husband as young and handsome - not old and gray. And they're scared of the old man in the house and wonder when he will leave.
On the other hand, men with Alzheimer's who have wives caring for them tend to be more content, even though they wonder where the beautiful woman they married has gone to. They think the little, old, gray haired lady in the kitchen is their grandmother. And who doesn't feel safe with their grandmother?
The children of people with Alzheimer's are forgotten. If their parents remember they have children at all, they remember small kids and not grown adults. They don't recognize their grown children, leaving these children feeling unloved and even rejected.
By the time hospice nurses see Alzheimer's and dementia patients, they're in the final stages of the disease. Grown adults act like toddlers. They say "no" to everything. They carry dolls. They undress themselves simply because they are able to. They revert back to their original languages. We even have one patient whose parents came to America from Italy either before he was born or he was very small. He never spoke Italian fluently, but now in his disease he speaks whole sentences in a language he never actually spoke - only remembers somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind hearing his parents speak.
As I thought about this, I thought of my dad. When I was only 2 or 3 years of age, he taught me Scripture. He helped me memorize Psalm 23, and Psalm 100, and other passages. He read to me Bible stories over and over again until I could tell them back to him. Unknowingly, he gave me something I will always have. And, hopefully, if I lose the ability to remember the things I loved when I'm old and gray headed, I will still remember the Word my dad taught me when I was 2 years old.
Yet another reason I hope and pray if God ever gives me children, I will endure in teaching them Scripture. And even though I don't sing very well, I'm also going to teach them hymns. Because you know something a dementia patient never loses? The ability to sing. I've heard about it in many of our patients - the old hymns they sing while they can hardly put a whole sentence together. They praise God to the end. And if I can do that, I guess losing my achievements in life isn't so bad after all.
Now, take this first one, crumple it up and toss it in the trash. You no longer remember how to do this.
Take the second slip of paper, crumple it up and toss it in the trash. You no longer remember ever having done this.
Last, take the third slip of paper, crumple it up and toss it in the trash. You remember enjoying this, but because of physical frailties you can no longer participate in this activity.
This is what it is like to have Alzheimer's or dementia. For some of us, it would be like loosing your entire life.
A friend told me this week I think too much about getting old. Maybe I do, but I'm around old 40 hours a week. Death is a weekly part of my life. I hear stories about 80-year-olds acting like 2-year-olds, skin tears, morphine, strokes and the like every day. It just becomes a part of the way you think. Yesterday one of the nurses gave an in-service on the diseases of Alzheimer's and dementia. For the first time I realized what sad diseases they are.
Women with Alzheimer's who have husbands that care for them can live in a world of fear. Why? Because if they can still remember being married, they remember their husband as young and handsome - not old and gray. And they're scared of the old man in the house and wonder when he will leave.
On the other hand, men with Alzheimer's who have wives caring for them tend to be more content, even though they wonder where the beautiful woman they married has gone to. They think the little, old, gray haired lady in the kitchen is their grandmother. And who doesn't feel safe with their grandmother?
The children of people with Alzheimer's are forgotten. If their parents remember they have children at all, they remember small kids and not grown adults. They don't recognize their grown children, leaving these children feeling unloved and even rejected.
By the time hospice nurses see Alzheimer's and dementia patients, they're in the final stages of the disease. Grown adults act like toddlers. They say "no" to everything. They carry dolls. They undress themselves simply because they are able to. They revert back to their original languages. We even have one patient whose parents came to America from Italy either before he was born or he was very small. He never spoke Italian fluently, but now in his disease he speaks whole sentences in a language he never actually spoke - only remembers somewhere in the dark recesses of his mind hearing his parents speak.
As I thought about this, I thought of my dad. When I was only 2 or 3 years of age, he taught me Scripture. He helped me memorize Psalm 23, and Psalm 100, and other passages. He read to me Bible stories over and over again until I could tell them back to him. Unknowingly, he gave me something I will always have. And, hopefully, if I lose the ability to remember the things I loved when I'm old and gray headed, I will still remember the Word my dad taught me when I was 2 years old.
Yet another reason I hope and pray if God ever gives me children, I will endure in teaching them Scripture. And even though I don't sing very well, I'm also going to teach them hymns. Because you know something a dementia patient never loses? The ability to sing. I've heard about it in many of our patients - the old hymns they sing while they can hardly put a whole sentence together. They praise God to the end. And if I can do that, I guess losing my achievements in life isn't so bad after all.
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Dollhouse Update
Well, I have been at work on my dollhouse, but it would be difficult for anyone but me to notice. That's mostly because I've been painting trim that's already on the house. The bay windows are completely in. The front door is painted inside and out, complete with doorknobs and a knocker. However, I haven't put it in yet because I'm waiting for an hour of somewhat silence to put my first light in. I can see where the electrical tape is as long as the door remains out. I just have to take a deep breath and put on my electrician hat...and hope I'm just making it harder that it will actually be.
In the meantime, I took pictures of the very few things I've collected as gifts to furnish my house. I realized when calculating some pricing on flooring, stonework and outside trim today that this house will be worth somewhere in the 1,000s of dollars when it is all complete and furnished. I'm already estimating the investment at somewhere around five or six hundred. And after a year worth of work, the time invested is well more than five or six hundred hours! But it maybe as close as I ever come to a dream home...well exemplified by the furnishings that will be moved in first.
Items for the nursery: I love trains, I adore carousels and my best friend Allyson's 5-year-old Violet sent me the other odd toys for my birthday.
Items for the study: MUST have a rolltop - and a chair to sit at it. The bookshelf will be stained the same color brown and at least two more will join it.
Miscellaneous items: I love castles, hence the picture. I had just determined that mirrors are going to be a must when my sister gave me one for my birthday. The two books ("The Christmas Carol" and "Pride and Prejudice") are merely a start to the collection. The carpet a friend sent me will look perfect by the front door. The sofa...well, I just had to have it even though it will go in the master bedroom since it doesn't match the living room wallpaper. And every house needs a Golden Retriever (right, Grace?).
Friday, March 16, 2012
Encouragement
If there is one thing I can never complain about, it is good friends. God has truly blessed me that area of my life, as I witness almost on a daily basis. This note from a friend this week was such a blessing, I'm sure I will keep it for years to come:
One of the special things about birthdays is taking time to reflect on how far you have come and in what direction.
However, this can be hard when you feel like you have found yourself where you were a year ago or close to it. I like to think of it as a switch back. It feels like no progress but remember God's goal is the top of the mountain, Christ-likeness. I couldn't handle it if God sent me on a path barreling up to the top of the mountain, so sometimes He sends me back and forth a little higher each time. I am tempted sometimes to say, "God, you tricked me. You said to go that way only to slam a door in my face and turn me around." And He says, "My child, trust Me, as the heavens are higher than the earth so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts higher than your thoughts."
I am writing, Melissa, no to tell you to go the other way or bore you with the same things I have said before, but to wish you true joy and blessed peace on your birthday. Your Heavenly Father loves you so much, and you are never too old to sit on His lap.
One of the special things about birthdays is taking time to reflect on how far you have come and in what direction.
However, this can be hard when you feel like you have found yourself where you were a year ago or close to it. I like to think of it as a switch back. It feels like no progress but remember God's goal is the top of the mountain, Christ-likeness. I couldn't handle it if God sent me on a path barreling up to the top of the mountain, so sometimes He sends me back and forth a little higher each time. I am tempted sometimes to say, "God, you tricked me. You said to go that way only to slam a door in my face and turn me around." And He says, "My child, trust Me, as the heavens are higher than the earth so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts higher than your thoughts."
I am writing, Melissa, no to tell you to go the other way or bore you with the same things I have said before, but to wish you true joy and blessed peace on your birthday. Your Heavenly Father loves you so much, and you are never too old to sit on His lap.
Monday, March 12, 2012
Spring...or Summer
Well, winter never came. I waited (granted, not very patiently). And I prayed (but my faith continues to be smaller than a mustard seed). But aside from a dusting of snow in December, nothing white landed in Texas. All I can hope now is that doesn't mean another blistering summer of 100 days of 200 degree weather. (Okay, I'm exaggerating, but isn't everything bigger and hotter in Texas?)
This past weekend it rained. And I'm not going to complain about the temperatures being in the upper 40s to mid 50s because I prayed for just ONE more "wintery" weekend, and I'll try to be content with what I got. Today it is bright, and sunny, and will hit the 80s. As will tomorrow. And then more rain. Which means the grass will grow in abundance, Haley and I have two evenings to mow, trim, cut and rake...and then rain will fall so more will grow in abundance. This will continue until the blistering heat arrives (I'm predicting) sometime the end of April and last (no doubt) until sometime in the middle of November. Hence everything will die, and we'll wonder why we bothered to mow, trim, cut and rake to begin with - it was all going to die anyhow.
So despite Mr. Groundhog's prediction of six more weeks of winter, spring is here (or summer, depending on where you peg 80 degrees - on my scale that's summer despite over two years in Texas). Leaves are coming out on the trees. The daffodils have bloomed and fallen flat thanks to high winds and rain last Thursday. And the irises will soon bloom. In order to usher in what I wish would go away for a few more weeks, I made my blog a bit more springlike. At least it's colorful.
This past weekend it rained. And I'm not going to complain about the temperatures being in the upper 40s to mid 50s because I prayed for just ONE more "wintery" weekend, and I'll try to be content with what I got. Today it is bright, and sunny, and will hit the 80s. As will tomorrow. And then more rain. Which means the grass will grow in abundance, Haley and I have two evenings to mow, trim, cut and rake...and then rain will fall so more will grow in abundance. This will continue until the blistering heat arrives (I'm predicting) sometime the end of April and last (no doubt) until sometime in the middle of November. Hence everything will die, and we'll wonder why we bothered to mow, trim, cut and rake to begin with - it was all going to die anyhow.
So despite Mr. Groundhog's prediction of six more weeks of winter, spring is here (or summer, depending on where you peg 80 degrees - on my scale that's summer despite over two years in Texas). Leaves are coming out on the trees. The daffodils have bloomed and fallen flat thanks to high winds and rain last Thursday. And the irises will soon bloom. In order to usher in what I wish would go away for a few more weeks, I made my blog a bit more springlike. At least it's colorful.
Thursday, March 8, 2012
A Quick Jot
As my work day has flown by (probably thanks to lunch with the nurses and then their congregation at the office which is always enjoyable but slows my work down as they ask where this, that and the other is kept...), I have but a moment to make my second post of the week.
I suppose it will suffice to say the rain has finally come. It threatened all day yesterday and my sinuses didn't like it. About nine this morning, the temperatures dropped and the rain poured. it's suppose to stay this way for the next two days. I am quite happy. It means I can wear the new boots I bought at least twice...and a sweater or sweatshirt one last time for the "season". (I mean winter, but that never officially came to Texas this year.)
I am taking tomorrow off. Everyone keeps asking if I have something fun planned. "No," I say with a shrug. "It's just that my home to-do list is twice as long as my work to-do list. If I don't get out from under the pile, I think I'll suffocate." And so my day off consists of a long list of errands, cleaning the inside of my car, laundry, balancing bank accounts, cooking and cleaning my rooms. The only reason I won't get to the yard work is because of the rain. But it will start off good: sleeping a bit late and listening to the rain pour down upon the roof. Nothing like being able to sleep late on a cold, rainy day!
I suppose it will suffice to say the rain has finally come. It threatened all day yesterday and my sinuses didn't like it. About nine this morning, the temperatures dropped and the rain poured. it's suppose to stay this way for the next two days. I am quite happy. It means I can wear the new boots I bought at least twice...and a sweater or sweatshirt one last time for the "season". (I mean winter, but that never officially came to Texas this year.)
I am taking tomorrow off. Everyone keeps asking if I have something fun planned. "No," I say with a shrug. "It's just that my home to-do list is twice as long as my work to-do list. If I don't get out from under the pile, I think I'll suffocate." And so my day off consists of a long list of errands, cleaning the inside of my car, laundry, balancing bank accounts, cooking and cleaning my rooms. The only reason I won't get to the yard work is because of the rain. But it will start off good: sleeping a bit late and listening to the rain pour down upon the roof. Nothing like being able to sleep late on a cold, rainy day!
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
100 Years Ago Today...
...the world was introduced to the Oreo cookie!
Okay, so maybe not the world. Actually, just a little store in Hoboken, New Jersey. But it was one of those little ideas we all wish we had for as of today more than 362 billion Oreos have been consumed and Nabisco has made lots more than 362 billion dollars on two chocolate wafer cookies with cream in the middle.
Today, Oreos is world renowned. Almost everyone recognizes the imprinted, serrated edges of an Oreo and the iconic name in blue and white. In America, we have dozens of options for Oreo purchase: regular, mint, colored cream (red, green, orange, pastels, etc. according to the holiday or movie they're promoting), double stuffed, mini, chocolate covered, reversible (vanilla wafers with chocolate cream) or in ice cream (Blizzards, McFlurries, etc.), brownies, cheesecake and truffles. In honor of 100 years, today you can purchase them with sprinkles in the cream. If you go to other countries you will find Oreos with fruit flavored middles or in green tea ice cream (which, ironically, sounds rather good).
There are also a million ways to eat Oreos. (I'm rather surprised there isn't a book on the topic - maybe I should write one). There is the every popular dunking. My dad use to do that, and I always thought it disgusting. It makes the cookies soggy, I don't like milk as a drink anyhow and it was made worse with cookie crumbs in it. Then there is the twist: twist off one side, lick the cream and then eat the cookies. Or you can just be boring and pop the whole thing in your mouth. (That's more my style, although I eat it in two or three bites versus one whole.)
It's funny to think of memories surrounding a cookie, but I do have them. I remember a contest I once watched to see who could stuff more Oreos into their mouth. I remember one of my favorite commercials for Oreos with two little boys, one from the US and one from an oriental nation in an airport where they exchanged "cultural" ways of eating an Oreo. And then there is the scene in the newer Parent Trap where young Lindsay Lohan eats Oreos dipped in peanut butter. (I concur that that is an awesome way to eat Oreos!)
In our family, Oreos are a joke for my sister Sally HATES them. She won't even eat Cookies 'n Cream ice cream! (One of my personal favorites.) Growing up, Oreos were also a treat - they had to be on sale at the grocery store and we were usually on a trip if we got them. Having one sister who disliked them meant more for the rest of us!
So, Happy 100th Birthday, Oreo! Maybe I'll celebrate by eating you...
Okay, so maybe not the world. Actually, just a little store in Hoboken, New Jersey. But it was one of those little ideas we all wish we had for as of today more than 362 billion Oreos have been consumed and Nabisco has made lots more than 362 billion dollars on two chocolate wafer cookies with cream in the middle.
Today, Oreos is world renowned. Almost everyone recognizes the imprinted, serrated edges of an Oreo and the iconic name in blue and white. In America, we have dozens of options for Oreo purchase: regular, mint, colored cream (red, green, orange, pastels, etc. according to the holiday or movie they're promoting), double stuffed, mini, chocolate covered, reversible (vanilla wafers with chocolate cream) or in ice cream (Blizzards, McFlurries, etc.), brownies, cheesecake and truffles. In honor of 100 years, today you can purchase them with sprinkles in the cream. If you go to other countries you will find Oreos with fruit flavored middles or in green tea ice cream (which, ironically, sounds rather good).
There are also a million ways to eat Oreos. (I'm rather surprised there isn't a book on the topic - maybe I should write one). There is the every popular dunking. My dad use to do that, and I always thought it disgusting. It makes the cookies soggy, I don't like milk as a drink anyhow and it was made worse with cookie crumbs in it. Then there is the twist: twist off one side, lick the cream and then eat the cookies. Or you can just be boring and pop the whole thing in your mouth. (That's more my style, although I eat it in two or three bites versus one whole.)
It's funny to think of memories surrounding a cookie, but I do have them. I remember a contest I once watched to see who could stuff more Oreos into their mouth. I remember one of my favorite commercials for Oreos with two little boys, one from the US and one from an oriental nation in an airport where they exchanged "cultural" ways of eating an Oreo. And then there is the scene in the newer Parent Trap where young Lindsay Lohan eats Oreos dipped in peanut butter. (I concur that that is an awesome way to eat Oreos!)
In our family, Oreos are a joke for my sister Sally HATES them. She won't even eat Cookies 'n Cream ice cream! (One of my personal favorites.) Growing up, Oreos were also a treat - they had to be on sale at the grocery store and we were usually on a trip if we got them. Having one sister who disliked them meant more for the rest of us!
So, Happy 100th Birthday, Oreo! Maybe I'll celebrate by eating you...
Friday, March 2, 2012
Am I there Yet?
If you read the blog from Monday, you'll know my week didn't start out well at all. By Monday evening, work had quieted down. I played tennis that night and went home for an exhausted night's sleep. Everything would look better in the morning, right?
When my alarm went off in the morning, I rolled out of bed and almost fell over. Like most people that exercise quite regularly, I have a couple of re-occurring injuries (probably because I don't nurse them as I should). Well, the muscle on the bottom of my left foot that I pull every few months or so must have been stretched beyond it's reach at tennis. I could hardly walk! I got to my bathroom, looked in the mirror and told my sleepy self, "Melissa, you're just a week over 32 - you shouldn't be falling apart yet!" But out came the Advil and a heat pad to join me at work.
By the end of a blessedly quiet day, my foot was fine. Went to bed that night a bit early...and woke up the next morning with a pulled muscle in the middle of the right side of my back. Good grief, I thought as I twisted to stretch it out, I guess I was right to feel old when I turned 32. But, I have to confess, I didn't do anything about this pull. I figured once I stretched it and worked it throughout the day, it would fall back into place. It didn't trouble me until I was driving to church that night...when it then decided to shoot pain up and down my back. I had to stop at CVS and get some Advil before I went to church. Thankfully, I was fine by the time class started...and was great throughout the rest of the night. Until 2:30 the next morning...
I thought nothing was worse than waking up with a calf pull after not stretching correctly after running. Muscle pain in the back is much worse. I limped into my bathroom, took some Advil and settled into bed propped up against pillows so I couldn't move. A half hour later, I was fine and fell asleep. But the next morning, the Advil and heat pad joined me at work again. After treating it all day with heat, ice last night and an Icyhot pack as I slept, it only twinges of pain today...
It's funny, but I've had more than one conversation this week about Christ's return and eternal bliss in Heaven: no tears, no pain...nothing but fervent and eternal joy. I thought this morning that if I live 70 years, I'm not even half way there. Which almost makes me sigh. But, who knows, maybe my days of pain and tears are nearly over. Until then, I guess I need to re-heat my heat pad...
When my alarm went off in the morning, I rolled out of bed and almost fell over. Like most people that exercise quite regularly, I have a couple of re-occurring injuries (probably because I don't nurse them as I should). Well, the muscle on the bottom of my left foot that I pull every few months or so must have been stretched beyond it's reach at tennis. I could hardly walk! I got to my bathroom, looked in the mirror and told my sleepy self, "Melissa, you're just a week over 32 - you shouldn't be falling apart yet!" But out came the Advil and a heat pad to join me at work.
By the end of a blessedly quiet day, my foot was fine. Went to bed that night a bit early...and woke up the next morning with a pulled muscle in the middle of the right side of my back. Good grief, I thought as I twisted to stretch it out, I guess I was right to feel old when I turned 32. But, I have to confess, I didn't do anything about this pull. I figured once I stretched it and worked it throughout the day, it would fall back into place. It didn't trouble me until I was driving to church that night...when it then decided to shoot pain up and down my back. I had to stop at CVS and get some Advil before I went to church. Thankfully, I was fine by the time class started...and was great throughout the rest of the night. Until 2:30 the next morning...
I thought nothing was worse than waking up with a calf pull after not stretching correctly after running. Muscle pain in the back is much worse. I limped into my bathroom, took some Advil and settled into bed propped up against pillows so I couldn't move. A half hour later, I was fine and fell asleep. But the next morning, the Advil and heat pad joined me at work again. After treating it all day with heat, ice last night and an Icyhot pack as I slept, it only twinges of pain today...
It's funny, but I've had more than one conversation this week about Christ's return and eternal bliss in Heaven: no tears, no pain...nothing but fervent and eternal joy. I thought this morning that if I live 70 years, I'm not even half way there. Which almost makes me sigh. But, who knows, maybe my days of pain and tears are nearly over. Until then, I guess I need to re-heat my heat pad...
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