I did fall asleep in my chair, but not with the television on. I was just that tired. Six AM came with an abrupt wake up. I was deep in sleep and oh-so-comfortable when I got the call that the girls' arrival was imminent. I had forgotten to set my alarm. I very quickly exited my warm bed and grabbed something to wear and by that time they were at the front door. Poor Arya had fallen down on the sidewalk and skinned her knee. She came in distressed and bleeding from a little scrape. I found her a band aid and gave her comfort and assured her that her teacher did not need to see her booboo, just so she wouldn't think she was faking. Why my eight year old granddaughter is worried that her teacher will think she is faking is completely beyond me, but I did my best to make her comfortable. Breakfast was French toast, agreed upon by both girls, and so it was. Also bacon, syrup, and the new jelly, which I discovered is very much like Jello. Not intended, but still pdg. That's pretty darn good.
Girls dropped off at school, and home again, I settled into some quiet time with God. Word open on my lap, earphones in and lost to everything but Jesus, this is what I read:
1 I love the Lord, because He has heard [and now hears] my voice and my supplications. 2 Because He has inclined His ear to me, therefore will I call upon Him as long as I live.3 The cords and sorrows of death were around me, and the terrors of Sheol (the place of the dead) had laid hold of me; I suffered anguish and grief (trouble and sorrow).4 Then called I upon the name of the Lord: O Lord, I beseech You, save my life and deliver me!5 Gracious is the Lord, and [rigidly] righteous; yes, our God is merciful.6 The Lord preserves the simple; I was brought low, and He helped and saved me.
In my mind, I was remembering our experiences of almost exactly four years ago. It was late October/ early November, and the Mr. was in the hospital. We had been summoned to Houston for an evaluation to see if he was eligible for the transplant list. We had had all the appointments we were scheduled for, and were eating lunch in anticipation of leaving for home when we got the call that the Dr. had referred him to the ER for admittance into the hospital. Not because he was getting a transplant, but because he was dying. His legs were swollen, his face was yellow, eyes were jaundiced. His liver numbers were about as high as they could go. I think looking back on it, that he wouldn't have lived out the year, or would have died shortly into the new year. The doctor took one look at him and decided we were staying. And so we did, for three months. And in that three months things took a dramatic turn. He stayed in the hospital for sixteen days. In that sixteen days he lost a hundred pounds of fluid. He had many workups to get him ready for transplant, although we didn't know if he would even get on the list, much less receive a transplant. I stayed in a hotel down the street and visited every day. When he got out of the hospital he was healthier looking than he had been in years, although he was still dying. We spent two weeks in the hotel together and then just after Thanksgiving, the call came. A liver. From death to life in an instant. Everything changed and this Psalm came to life. It's not just something someone wrote three thousand years ago that sounds pretty. It is a desperate cry of help from a man who was dying, and yet who, by God's great grace, lived. It has my husband's face on it.
Lunchtime, we went out to vote and came home with 182 dollars worth of groceries. I cooked steak and made a salad, and that's when I fell asleep.
I woke up and decided to hang around outside on such a gorgeous fall day. The wind was blowing pretty good and the sun was shining. Leaves were falling. I decided it was a good time to do some rearranging in the garden. The potted plants that have been sitting around on the patio are looking not so fresh, though we have had some rain. I decided to make a little vignette of plants around the hot tub room and deck, just to shake things up a little. Everything in the back part of the yard is starting to wind down, anyway, the vegetable garden has been reduced from 12 tomato, 3 cucumber, 8 Pepper, 3 Okra, and a strawberry plant, to a couple of Pepper plants that aren't bearing, one Okra going to seed, and one cherry tomato plant that is still going strong for one more round of tomatoes. And that one strawberry plant, of course. The Canna lilies have long been cut down for the year and things are looking barren.
So I moved the pots, and it was looking fine, when I decided to move the potted boxwood hedges as well. They have been sitting either side of the garage entry for a couple of years now, and although I think they frame the door nicely, I was ready for a change. I picked up the first one and moved it to it's new home, and went back for his twin brother. I noticed, as I carried it across the yard, that for some reason, he has turned a much darker green than he has ever been, much darker than his brother. As I began to set it down in it's place, I began to feel an itchy, weird tingle on my hands, and thought to myself Wow, this plant sure is prickly, all of a sudden, unless it's....FIRE ANTS! As fast as the thought entered my head, I dropped the pot down and jumped back. There were swarms of ants crawling up my hands and arms! They were falling off my hands and onto my shorts and down into my shoes! And they were BITING me! Everywhere! I came out of my shoes pretty quickly, and started slapping myself in an attempt to get them to GET.OFF.ME!
I ran into the house and immediately started running cold water over my fingers and the backs of my hands, hoping that would help. It didn't help much, but at least I had them all off. They had bitten me on the thighs and ankles as well, so as I ran upstairs, doing the ant dance all the way, I was slapping myself everywhere. The burning was intense, but I knew exactly where that brand new tube of Afterbite was, and I went right to it. Awwww....instant relief and a lot of sting, as the alcohol, or ammonia, or whatever it was went deep into the bites. I got out of those shorts and sat for a few minutes, but a few million ant bites was not going to keep me from my appointed task, so I went right back outside, and finished moving all the pots where I wanted them, being very careful to check the bottoms of the pots for ants, first. Then I sat in the rocking chair and talked to God as the sun retreated into his chamber for the evening. I made some mental notes about what I should work on tomorrow in the yard, and then reluctantly, because it was so lovely outside, took a last look around at the yard in the almost evening, and slowly slipped into the house for dinner and a little bit of mindless TV.
And I had to turn it off. I just can't stand to watch another rerun that I have seen a hundred-no, a THOUSAND times. Even Andy Griffith, as much as I love his show, and as cute as Opie is, just bores me. I walked away.
So...tomorrow. Another round with the girls. The Mr. has a dental. More work in the yard. I need to get ready for that garage sale we are supposed to be having on Sat. So far I haven't done one thing for it, except to make a list of things to sell. Somehow I have my doubts that this is going to happen.
Thank you, Lord, that I am not allergic to fire ants. THANK you. And for a lovely day.
No comments:
Post a Comment