Catching up

Wow. It’s been forever since I’ve blogged. Life has just been a turmoil for me. So what spurred my desire to come here and write today? Well, it’s May 2. No big deal right? Wrong. It’s May 2, 2011, and Osama Bin Laden was killed at the hands of the American Navy Seals last night. I was driving to Great Barrington (yes, I moved…I’ll get to that) to get gas and go to the bank, when I look at the clock on my dashboard. It read 9:11. Wow. 9:11 on the day the jerk ordered the attacks on the towers 10 years ago, and he’s finally paid the price for what he caused. Or did he? Me, I’m glad they got him. So I guess it was sort of an epiphany of sorts…this 9:11:11….I’ve lived much like Bin Laden for almost a year now. Not his terroristic ways, mind you, but sort of in hiding. You see, my life started falling apart about 5 years ago when my husband gave up. He gave up on me, his business, and life. He just existed after that. Bills stopped being paid, we lost the insurance on my daughter, who needs regular medical care, and there was no intimacy at all between he and I anymore. We merely existed in the same house. Things got worse and worse…I begged for him to put state health care on our daughter, and for 3 years, he refused…never giving me a straight answer about why…just saying the co-pays would be too high…he made too much money…he needed to finish his taxes…yada yada yada. In the meantime, my kid isn’t going to the doctor for her regular checkups. She needs bloodwork done at least every 6 months, preferably every 3. I tried everything, including taking him to Pastoral counseling. He said, in counseling that he would have her on insurance in 3 months. A year later, she still wasn’t on it. I was lonely, depressed, FAT, addicted to vicodin and various other prescription medications….and then came the clincher. After agreeing to live in separate parts of the house (it was a duplex), he began withholding my mail. He withheld a registered letter from me that resulted in me being arrested one morning, last Spring. It was a final notice to take care of a check, that I honestly believed had already been taken care of. So I was handcuffed, in front of our exchange student, and my daughter, and taken off to jail. The police were sympathetic, but did their job. So I was finger printed, mug shots, all of it…searched….they actually felt so bad for me, they let me hang out with them in the office area after all of this instead of putting me in a cell. They asked what had led up to this. Their advice to me was that it sure wasn’t going to get any better, and I believed them. They suggested I move, immediately. So I did. Which meant we had no where to go. My family wouldn’t help me, because they thought I was just whining and didn’t believe me about what had been going on. I was kicked off my church’s property by the Pastor, because he also believe that what was going on was my fault. Yes, I harbor quite a bit of bitterness about all of this. I am trying, very hard to let go. It’s not working well…again, I am just existing. I finally got an apartment, and my daughter and I and my ferrets and dog all moved in. It’s extremely expensive. I live on disability, and have for years. I have lost over 140 pounds and gone from a size 22 to a size 2 (or less). The chronic pain is still there, but it has improved in a lot of ways. I don’t have the weight to carry anymore, but my joints still ache. I don’t take vicodin anymore, at all, and that in itself has actually helped me deal with the pain better. It’s nothing but a crutch, and it stops working after a while.

I have pulled away from all the people that have been so important to me for the past 16 years, and it’s lonely and painful. I don’t see things the same way anymore….I’m not a positive person right now. I try to be, but I fall flat in many, many ways. I have no faith. I don’t believe for ONE SECOND that life will be ok tomorrow. I worry that I won’t be able to pay the rent. I worry that all of this has deeply affected my daughter. I know people are talking about me, and I know they don’t know the truth….they believe what they want…what’s scandalous…what peaks their sinful tongues. They don’t look for the truth. A lonely, hurt, angry person who does not believe in humans at all anymore. Humans hurt. They hurt each other, they hurt animals, they hurt the ones they “love”. Humans suck. Even ones you believe would never say a hurtful word can come out with the nastiest comment. I really hate nastiness, rudeness, judgement, lies, and false accusations. I hate this complete feeling of loss of control…I can’t even be me anymore…in fact, am not sure who that is anymore. It’s not who it was…that’s for sure. Much like Bin Laden, that person is dead. So who am I now? Good question.

*The little cutie in my banner with the pen, Addie, passed away last summer as well. She is dearly missed.

Casey’s Heart

Casey\'s Heart Foundation Introduction

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Click the link!!
Ok, so every once in a while a kid comes along that is wise far beyond his/her years. He or she may or may not know this. Of course we have the indomitable Adora Svitak, who blows away entire audiences of adults with her love for reading and her down to earth suggestions on how to get other kids to read and love it too.
But then, you come across kids like Casey. Casey started life as an orphan, and was adopted at an early age. Casey is a typical 8 year old boy in every way, except for his heart. He sounds like an 8 year old, he is a cute little guy with freckles on his nose, and I can just imagine him riding his bike or playing with trucks in the back yard. But, just listen to him. Go ahead. I dare you. You better have some tissues handy. This kid sees through God’s eyes. He sees people that the vast majority of Americans consider dirty, lazy, drunk, useless, only he sees them as God’s children and he wants to help them. And help them he is. Want to know more? Visit this WEBSITE. If you are on facebook, find and fan him HERE. But most of all, learn from him.

Ferrets

Today is the day I am finally getting around to blogging about my ferrets. I figured I would give you all a little biography of each one. I wanted to start with Scooter, because even though she is no longer with me, she was my first ferret and taught me a lot about being a ferret mom, including my introduction into the sad world of adrenal disease in ferrets. Scooter passed away in December of 2008 from a sudden crash due to adrenal disease. I still miss her very much today.

Scooter was a perfect first ferret. She was very sweet, and loved me very much. She was a very cuddly ferret, and by that I mean far more than any ferret I have ever had or seen since. She would seek me out after play time every day, climb into my lap and go to sleep. She wanted to sleep there. Even if I moved around, she would barely wake to acknowledge that and sometimes didn’t even do that. She loved to be snuggled. I bought her in a pet store after my husband had convinced me that ferrets really were good pets. I was very much in love with her and loved how sweet she was. It broke my heart when she died. There will never be another Scooter.

After having Scooter for about a year, I decided to get another ferret, to keep Scooter company. So we brought home Addie. She is a Marshall ferret, as was Scooter. Marshalls is the primary ferret breeder in the United States. Almost all ferrets bought in commercial pet stores are Marshall ferrets. While I am not fond of the “mass production” of any species, and I am aware that Marshalls also supplies the research industry, without which there would be no decisive treatment for the insulinoma and adrenal cancer that ferrets are prone to. Every part of me wants to insert the name Marshalls before the word ferret in that sentence, but I have been corrected recently by being shown the statistics. Though there are a lot of Marshall ferrets with insulinoma and adrenal cancers, the fact is that there are a lot of Marshall ferrets. Among the non-Marshall ferrets recorded, there is a corresponding number of instances for insulinoma and adrenal disease. So therefore, it seems that ferrets are prone to these disorders, which it appears to have a lot to do with commercial diets that contain far too many fillers and no where near enough meat. Any way, Addie. Addie is a wiry, feisty little spit of a thing. She loves to play and roughhouse. Not so much on the cuddly thing, but she will give you lots of kisses. She’s getting up in years now, approaching 7. She has just recently shown some small signs of insulinoma. A bit of weakness in her rear legs when she first gets up, and an off day here and there, but nothing serious enough yet for meds. I have her on a partial raw diet, and thankfully when she is having an off day, meat is her choice of things to eat. Scooter began to show signs of adrenal disease at 6, so I am grateful to have Addie be so healthy at almost 7. After we had her for about a year, Chelsea and I stopped at a Petco one day and came across a dark male sabel kit. Chelsea fell in love with him and home he came with us, so meet Tucker.

Tucker is our first male ferret. If we though Addie was roudy, we had seen nothing yet! Tucker was a biter. He was a toe biting, leg jumper crazy maniac out of the gate, and he chose Chelsea as his “slave” (even though I am the one that feeds, cleans, and grooms him….ungrateful little twerp ). Problem was he bit too hard, and we had our first opportunity to learn how to train a ferret out of bad behaviours. He was very smart and caught on very quickly that if he bit, he ended up in his cage. We used the word “gentle” when playing with him, during the time that he was playing nicely. As soon as he bit too hard, into his cage he went. He wanted to be out playing and hated being put in his cage, so it didn’t take him long to begin to associate the word “gentle” with the type of playing we wanted as humans. Now he never bites. He loves Ramen Noodle soup, and will stalk you down for it. He hates dog squeeky toys and will rip them to shreds if he gets a hold of one.

Shortly after Tucker came to live with us, Scooter was becoming very ill. When she passed, I was so heartbroken I didn’t know what to do. I got to looking around the internet for rescues in my area to help out at, and found one in the city nearest to us. We went for a ride to check them out, and we came home with Zipper.

Zipper is a big, fat, marshmallow of a ferret. He was about 8 months old when we adopted him from the rescue. He had been surrendered by someone who couldn’t afford to feed him and was feeding him bread. He is the sweetest guy. He is not a Marshall’s ferret, and was my first sense of what the difference is between Marshall and non-Marshall ferrets. We don’t really know where Zipper came from, but it’s likely it was from one of the Canadian breeders that breed for the pet trade, as he is neutered and de-scented. He is much bigger than my other ferrets, has a thicker coat, and a huge personality. He gets into stuff constantly, and if you hear a crash in our house, you can be almost positive that Zipper caused it. He is a complete clutz, and actually managed to break his toe once. Poor guy. He whimpered and cried. The trick with him is to always be at least one step ahead of him to keep him out of trouble. I wouldn’t trade him for the world. He lights up my days!

Then, last Easter, we found a litter of kits in a local pet store that were far to young to be there. Pet stores trying to sell on the cute factor at Easter time to some unsuspecting family who were about to get way more than they could handle. We brought home the one that we knew had Waardenberg’s syndrome, a genetic disorder that affects a lot of ferrets. It was originally actually bred into them, as Waardenberg ferrets have cute markings, but they can also be deaf. And this baby definitely was. Meet Doodle Bug.

He is just the funniest little guy! When we got him home, he was a mess. Scared to death, attacked anything that moved and bit hard, couldn’t eat kibble yet, and completely deaf. It took a couple of weeks for him to settle in, and it didn’t help that my other males decided they needed to show him THEY were boss by dragging him around the house by the scruff of the neck. But he finally got it that there was plenty of food, nothing to be scared of, and he just stopped attacking. He is 1 year old now, and a joy. Still a bit different to live with a deaf ferret…things like free time in the house have to be adjusted for him, as if he goes to sleep in a strange place, I’d never find him. We have had to wait him out a few times, but now he is almost always where ever Zipper is, so we can find him. He is very sweet, curious, and loves bananas and yogurt.

Well, there you have it. An intro to my fuzzbutts. From time to time I may post a crazy adventure that one of them has had. Most days are a crazy adventure when you have ferrets. They are just joyous, happy creatures that live completely in the moment. They love humans and seek us out to play. They can put a smile on anyone’s face if they take the time to watch them. Better yet, get down on the floor and play with them, in their world. I’ll guarantee that you leave with a smile on your face!

Community?

Ok, I know the YMCA needs money too. And the points they bring up in this video are excellent. But since when does it cost money for people to spend time together? Joining the YMCA is not free.

I completely agree that people should try to spend more time together. Eating dinner together is a biggie. And by that I mean no cell phones, no tv, no computer, sit down at the table, face each other and eat (and hopefully talk). This is a scarcity in my own home. Our normal procedure is for me to fix dinner. Bill may, or may not be home at this point. When dinner is ready, I holler out “DINNER” and whoever comes, comes. I fix my plate and return to my computer. Usually Chelsea does the same. Now technically, we are eating dinner ‘together’. We are in the same room. Problem is, we are worlds away from each other in our computers. She’s over there reading up on the latest digital art technique, and I’m over here farming, or fishing, or some other inane thing. The TV might be on at this point too, adding noise to the room, but no one is really watching it. I am thinking now, when did this happen? I guess I gave up some time ago when I realized my ability is really limited when it comes to changing this. The last hope I have is that I still don’t allow Chelsea to use the computer in her room, so she has to come out here to use it. I’ve tried talking to Bill about changing this in the past. He says he wants to, and makes an effort to come home for dinner for a few weeks, but then that falls by the wayside and we are soon right back here with it. To make matters worse, Bill enjoys TV movies, where I prefer, frankly, my computer. I can get so lost playing with stumbleupon, learning so many cool things, or messing around on Facebook, or some other gaming site. TV has actually become boring compared to this (except for a few shows )
So where does that leave my family? In their own worlds. And our worlds seldom collide, except for the occasional school production or church outing, we are “lost in space”, literally.
So how do I stop this roller coaster? I really don’t know. If I try to change myself by not using the computer or watching tv, then I just get ignored. Everyone just goes on as they were, and if I try to talk to them, I get mumbled answers and no ones full attention. So I soon give up and go back to my own rut.

The summers are a little better. Chelsea and I go to the beach fairly often and spend much needed time chatting with each other. This rarely includes Bill though, as he dislikes the beach and is usually working. We used to spend more time trying to do things as a family, but with the current economy we can’t afford to do the kinds of things we enjoy, like traveling, going to amusement parks or even out to a movie.

So I don’t know. Are we so different? Looking back on my own childhood, I do remember the sit down dinners. And I don’t remember them always being pleasant. I also remember spending my fair share of time in front of the TV (no computers yet, way back then). My parents and I rarely did things together, and I mostly ended up going anywhere with them because they couldn’t get a baby sitter. My mom wasn’t home when I got home from school, so I did what I wanted. Yeah, that usually involved me going outside, but that may or may not have been a good thing. I was probably just going to hang out with some friends in town.

I think I would rather have my daughter here, where I know she is not getting into trouble, than the way it was with me. I’d like to try to begin doing more things together, or at the very least not let that fall any farther down the priority list. I have and show a great interest in my daughter’s art, so I ask her about it all the time.

I guess what I’m saying is that I am not so sure this ideal of coming together at the Y is achievable for most families. I think most families do the best they can in whatever circumstances they are in. There is an awful lot of pressure in the world today to be the “best family”. I’m not sure the family that comes together at the Y and then splits off in different directions is the picture of the best family. I think it’s an activity choice, and if the Y works for you, great. If it doesn’t, try something else. I think the point is to try to really “be” together at some point every day. To make sure your kid knows that they can talk to you. To be open and honest about things, even the not so pleasant things, and to express your love for each other in what ever way you can on a daily basis.

What do you think?

Barefootin’!

So today’s theme is BAREFOOT. Yesterday I cam across this article and decided to join in!
I guess I must admit upfront that I actually prefer to be barefoot, so for this to be an inconvenience thing for me, I have a couple of things planned that could wait a day. First up was mowing the lawn. It is one of the few things I actually seek out a pair of shoes for. Our yard is by no means a green pasture. It’s loaded with sticks and stones, and this is the first mow of the year, so it’s also full of doggie doo doo. But, like I said, I had to make this a challenge. I got the mower going without too much trouble, and off I went. The first thing that I noticed were the sticks and stones. The sticks hurt worse than the stones. How many children in Haiti did I see walking over sticks and stones? Pretty much all of them. And in the city now, I’m sure it’s far worse. The next thing I noticed was the doggie doo. To step in that and have to keep going was disgusting. I wanted to wash my feet so badly. But this was a challenge I wasn’t going to give into that easily. Think about all those people in Haiti walking around the city in the rains right now, barefoot. What are they walking in? The toilet situation in Haiti is beyond anything Americans can imagine. They were hard to come by and usually an out house type set up when I was there in November, before the quake. Now it is far worse. In order to avoid grossing you out any further, I’ll move on. I finished the lawn, put the mower away and washed my feet in the outside hose water. Then I came up to my relatively clean floors and washed my feet again in the bathtub. I had a way to escape that uncomfortable situation. How many people in Haiti don’t think anything about what is on their feet (germ wise) and it is not even a thought that makes it to a conscious level at any point in their day?
So I am back inside now, where I am comfortable being barefoot. I have to go out later to a chorus rehearsal, so we will see how that goes!
Join me and kick your shoes off!

Skeptical Christian

http://www.skepticalchristian.com/

Great blog/site!!!

Something Is Changing in Me

Today is Good Friday. I am on a walk with Christ that has had it’s ups and downs through the years. In November of 2009, I went on a mission trip to Haiti, and something in me began to change. The trip was not what I had imagined it to be in so many ways. But I think the biggest way was that I learned far more about the discord that can be caused amongst believers by hurtful words, and how disruptive believers can be to the work of Christ when they forget to put Him first. It was far from the lesson that I had imagined I would learn. I went on this trip because I clearly heard the Lord say to me “put off your selfish ways and follow me”. I went on this trip because I heard those words. I knew there was a lesson I needed to learn. I went despite the fact that I live in constant, chronic pain, and that going to a third world country would be taking me far out of my comfort zone. Why did the Lord want me to travel all the way to Haiti to teach me something that essentially was right in front of my face? Of course there were other lessons I learned while I was there. Things like how much I have compared to these precious people who live day to day not knowing where their next meal is coming from. I learned how much the children of Haiti could move into my heart and take up residence there. They are God’s children. They have so little in the way of material things, but they have far more than American’s have in their relationships with each other. I learned what it feels like to be the minority, the one people stare at, the one people could possibly hate or misunderstand. As a white American, I had never felt any of that before. I learned that I can do far more than I give myself credit for, and that I can push through more pain than I normally try to.
I learned that I have pretty strong feelings about injustices, people who are not empathetic to others, people who put on “airs” in the name of Christ, and I learned that I really don’t like being told what to do constantly! A part of the mission world that I did not anticipate was that you are told when to eat, sleep, pray, travel, stop, move, speak, sing, bathe, and work. Not only are you told when to do all these thing, you are also told HOW to do them. I’m not entirely sure this is the case in all mission trips, but it was on the one I was on. One thing I expected to happen was a time of sharing among the team members. Sharing about the day, what people had experienced, how it affected them, what they needed strength for, how they could pray for one another to help for the next day. This never happened. I don’t really know why I expected it to, but I was horribly disappointed that this time of sharing didn’t happen. The trip was extremely emotional for me, and I was basically left to deal with my emotions between me and the Lord. I really struggled with this.
Coming home from this trip left me with very mixed emotions. I was extremely grateful to once again be in charge of when I ate, slept, bathed, etc, in fact I was pretty determined that no one was going to tell me what to do again. Trying to process all that had happened was a difficult job for me that took a very long time. I refused to talk about this trip for weeks after being home. I found that my silence actually upset several people in my family. They couldn’t understand why I wasn’t bubbling over with stories of my “adventure”. I had stories, yes, but there was something much deeper underneath the stories that kept me silent.
Here it is April, 5 months after my trip to Haiti. Haiti has since suffered a devastating earthquake that has made their lives far more difficult, yet they persevere. The children of Haiti are very much on my heart and mind on a daily basis now. This blog is the first cohesive description of my experience in Haiti. It is the first time I am allowing my feelings to be heard.
It all came to a point tonight as I sat in the Good Friday Service. The pastor passionately talked about how we Christians handle pain compared to how our Lord handled the Cross. I left this service in tears. I wear a bracelet that bears the inscription of one of my favorite verses of the Bible, 1st Corinthians 13, “Love is patient, love is kind, love never ends…” I also wear a ring with the word “Agape” inscribed on it. Agape is Christ love. I am purposefully fasting and praying this Holy weekend for the Lord to move into my heart in a big way. For Him to change my heart, to make me more like Him. The prayer is constant. It does not leave my thoughts for long, no matter what I am doing.
I see so many things in my own behaviour that I need to own as being not Christlike. I also clearly see Christ’s love for me and for all God’s children. I think I understand the lesson He meant for me now. It’s not about who did this, who said that, or even what I do or don’t have. It’s about my face. What do others see in my face? Do they see Christ? Or do they see a complaining, discontent, unloving person masquerading as a Christian? I no longer want to “dress up” as a Christian. I want people to see Christ in me, in all I do. That is my prayer this Easter. Lord, move into my heart. Teach me to love like you do. Teach me to control my sinful ways. Help me to show the world Your Face. I pray this with all my heart. Amen.

Call for Christians to DO not TALK

A Fresh Breath

Amy’s blog today. I had to respond, as what she wrote is so true.

A response to the posts that were made in response to Pat Robertson’s video about Haiti view here
While I do feel that it is not our place to judge the movement of the Lord, or to portray that the earthquake was the Lord’s way of “punishing” Haiti, I have heard the history of Haiti being described by a wonderful Haitian pastor, Pastor Martinez Jovin, in almost exactly the same way. It is his feeling that Haiti was dedicated to the devil, and I have seen with my own eyes the presence of witch doctors and voo doo in Haiti, even seen it being passed off as Catholicism. This area is in need of prayer for God to reclaim this island, and to rebuild it in HIS name.

Christ’s disciples are called to ACT, not to talk. Our place is to improve our relationship with Christ so that we are able to show His face in all we DO. It’s not about us. It’s about HIM.

You rock, Amy.

Homeschooling “Itinerary” changed for next year

Wow. Today I received notice that Chelsea was accepted for a full day seat at GHAA. Very mixed emotions on this!! First there is relief…full days means no tuition ($4000 a year savings!). I still haven’t completely paid for this year yet. Next comes sadness. I won’t have my baby home with me at all anymore. She’ll be gone from 6 am to 6 pm Monday through Thursday and from 6 am to 1 pm on Fridays. Those are really long school days. They include 3 hours of travel time back and forth to Hartford. Next comes anxiety. Do I trust this school to provide Chelsea with what she needs academically? I’ve made a call to the guidance counselor to get an appointment to sit down with her and discuss transcripts, grades, AP courses for math, etc. Chelsea is doing the equivalent of an AP Algebra 2 course this year at home (9th grade), so she is far ahead of this school’s general math curriculum. I would really hate for her to have to spend the rest of high school “reviewing” things she already knows and never being challenged to learn new things. That would just be wrong. My husband said that sometimes schools will exempt kids from a subject they have mastered, but I am not sure that is best for Chelsea either, as not taking math at all would mean she doesn’t advance. She is so gifted mathematically. I hope the school can provide for her, but that will have to be seen at the meeting with the guidance counselor. They do offer highly advanced math courses, but they are taken during the same time as her Arts courses and that doesn’t work for her. I am wondering what the kids that do the advanced math courses do during the “regular” school part of the day? Maybe there is a solution there.

I am not at all sure how I truly feel about all of this. Part of me knows this would be really good for her. She needs to learn how to manage her time much better than she does, and this will give her no choice in the matter. Attending the school 1/2 days has not changed her for the most part. Her personality remains steady, and she remains focused on the Lord. So I am fairly confident that she is who she is, and that she would not be easily led down the “wrong” path.

I think the Lord had a hand in immediately providing her with a full day seat. Last year, she was put on a waiting list for a 1/2 day seat, which eventually became her reality. This time, there was no waiting list, just acceptance. Now if only mom can find the acceptance.

Hanna gets a special award!

Meet JoHanna, or Hanna as she is referred to! She received an award for her perseverance through a devastating diagnosis that lead her to receive a Make A Wish grant to go to Disney World. She battled her way back to health and discovered a way to raise money for the Make A Wish Foundation, so that other sick kids could have their wishes granted. A simple walnut shell, turned into a beautiful necklace and sold with a special note from Hanna, has raised over $12,000.00 to date! Way to go, Hanna!! You truly are a hero!!