Month: January 2015

First things first: I’m feeling great. I think Carter was pretty worried about me because when he came to check on me Friday morning and I sat up in bed and started talking, he exclaimed, “Mom! You sound so much better!” I looked in the mirror and my tonsils had gone back to normal overnight. Amazing how that happened so fast. I completely understand how people died before the invention of antibiotics. Josh said it looked like an alien had exploded from inside my tonsils a la Sigourney Weaver in Aliens, but thankfully it lost the fight to penicillin. That battle would have been its own kind of horror movie.

My miraculous healing has made me happy about even the most mundane things (swallowing, standing upright, eating solid food, etc.) and today it hit me: Texting is the greatest invention ever. I get to communicate using the written word, I don’t have to talk to anyone, I can multi-task at the same time that I’m having a conversation, I can take my time to think of the right response . . . FREEDOM.

I’ve hated talking on the phone since I left Jr. High. I must have logged my lifetime allotment of hours during those 3 years. Hour upon hour with the phone cord winding down the hall and tucked under the crack in the bathroom door as I chatted with my friends about nothing at all, draping myself over the rolling desk chair 101 different ways, rotating as each body part turned numb, getting yelled at because someone had been trying to get through for over 3 hours because there was no such thing as call waiting back then, unsuccessfully arguing that the perfect solution to that problem was my own phone line — those days, long gone. As I moved on to High School I started driving, working, and using the phone as it was intended — for quick communication with work and friends. Until I got a boyfriend and then I fell down the rabbit hole of hours of endless chatting. At least we had call waiting by then or no one ever would have gotten through to my house.

Since then though, I generally hate the phone. If someone calls me, I have to work to understand them (I got the bad genes for poor hearing), I’m tied to a device that has to be held next to my ear so I feel restless, and it usually interrupts what I’m in the middle of doing at the moment. Thankfully, living overseas means no one ever calls me. Other than the quick, “Hey are you home so I can swing by?” which I don’t mind at all. Instead, I get text messages. It’s almost as thrilling as getting letters in the mail.

I can carry on a conversation with my sisters over a period of several days, buzzing in and out as we’re able. A thread of connection that isn’t broken because we have to hang up. Photos, an update, a funny story, a few days of quiet and then something sparks the conversation and we’re back at it again. No need to worry about time zones, dinner hour, or the daily schedule. I send my message and she is able to receive it at her convenience.

Texting with my boys is a joy. They are funny and sweet and I like seeing the things they choose to share with me. While Calvin was in Germany Josh’s phone buzzed a few times and he was typing back. I asked, “Who’s that?” I pouted when I heard it was Calvin and asked, “Why is he texting you and not me?!” A few minutes later I get: “Alright Mom. I’m messaging u. Happy now?” So nice of them to tease me like that.

When Josh travels texting keeps him with us here at home and me with him on the road. He knows right when Calvin scored a goal or Carter made a beautiful pass or Caleb saved a shot from scoring. He knows when Camille is being a pain or a delight (we run about 25/75 these days) and he laughs at the photos I send him of her many crying faces.

I was just thinking this morning as I was in the middle of two text conversations, checking my email, and drinking my coffee that I was experiencing a beautiful thing. I could finish a sentence or a thought, pick up my phone (cause I had my computer in front of me too), write a reply, go back to Facebook, message someone there, sip of coffee, next email, and repeat. A bunch of little pieces moving life forward all at my slowed morning pace. Communication at its finest for someone who loves the sound of silence.

We’ve been having a fun week with my mom, but now I’m dying. From the inside out. I went to bed with the beginnings of a sore throat last night and thought, “ugh, I’m getting the crud that has been going around.” Until I woke up in the middle of the night and found that someone had taken a knife to the inside of my throat and set it on fire. At least that’s what I could have sworn had happened while I was sleeping. So on one of my very precious sleep-in days (Calvin is in Germany for a school conference so no soccer practice driving for me!) I had to drive in to base at 7 in the morning and camp out until the medical clinic opened and I could get in to see the nurse. My tonsils looked like an alien had invaded and set up shop — Carter and Josh both looked at them and Josh thought if the clinic couldn’t see me, I needed to go to the ER. Carter just ran away scared. I actually took a photo of them (a tonsil selfie if you will) so I could see them up close, but I won’t traumatize you by sharing it.

I had already googled “symptoms of strep throat,” so I was pretty sure what the results would be and I was sitting on the couch sipping warm tea with (my new Yemini) honey when the call came in that the test was indeed positive for strep. So I had to drive back to the clinic to pick up penicillin (a word I still can never spell correctly, no matter how many times I try) to hopefully evict the alien invader fast.

I thought I was doing OK, but then my Motrin started wearing off and my throat started hurting even more so I abandoned the couch for my bed and slept for the next several hours. Thank God for Mom who entertained Camille all day and let me rest without any interruptions. Now I’m rearranging my schedule and begging for favors so the kids don’t have to miss everything while I’m nursing my ground hamburger throat. Did I mention that this happened to be the week that Josh’s car started overheating so there is an extra layer of juggling required?

And now a few photos from the good old days,  back when I could swallow instead of drool, and we took my mom carpet shopping. I told you, if you come visit me, I will buy you a carpet . . . the offer still stands.

I have heard that some people have a inner conscience for exercise: “Oh, I haven’t exercised today. I really need to go for a run. I’m so glad I went and worked out! Now I feel productive and good about myself!”

Yeah, that’s not me. I think of exercising as a happy accident. I do it accidentally and I’m happy when I can escape it. I want to be in shape, but I haven’t figured out how I can accomplish that while watching episodes of Revenge (or The Blacklist) lying on the couch with my knitting and a cappuccino. But I can commiserate in a slightly different arena. When I hit the “publish” button on my blog, I get that rush of accomplishment, sense of completion, and the niggling “you haven’t written in a while” voice is silenced and I’m guilt free as the timer resets to zero and starts ticking up again. So here’s my exercise for today:

Josh and I often laugh about the difference between our boys and our girl. Even at 4, I can already see that she will be a warrior with a pen as she doggedly tries to copy letters and numbers, spell her name, and find familiar letters in a sea of words in a book, whereas our boys at that age just used those pens and pencils as literal weapons. Bang bang went the fake gun . . . let me stab you with this sharp pencil tip . . . who has time to write when there are legos to play with!?

At 13, Carter still hasn’t progressed much past that point writing-wise so I’m afraid I’m not going to get much out of him about his time in India, but lucky for us, one of the girls on the trip is a writer. I think she’s around Calvin’s age and her family is on a 5 month long mission/service trip. Josh sent me these two blog posts that she wrote about her time at Little Flock. Like Josh said, “I can’t imagine our boys composing anything close to this quality.” We still have high hopes for Camille though. I can’t wait for her to guest post here!

(the two posts are Snake Village and Beyond the Gate)

http://www.tongeserviceventure.com/#!blogspot/conq

The above link currently isn’t connecting (as of Jan 26). I’m hoping they are just moving their blog to a new hosting site and it will be back online soon. It’s worth reading!

In between trying to read through the Bible in 100 days, discovering a new-to-me TV show, and the daily fatigue from getting up early to take Calvin to soccer every morning my writing has taken a big hit. So far I’ve managed to stay on track with the Bible reading (except for the few days that I binge watched Revenge so I skipped Deuteronomy and will catch up on that book later) and am part way through Judges. I’ve read these books before, but not in such big chunks each day. There’s a whole lot of blood and a whole lot of killing of both people and animals. It’s a bit disturbing — especially when entire families are killed for the wrongdoing of the head of the household. My goal this time is just to read through, not study, so I keep plowing on.

Balancing out my holy pursuits is my love for Revenge. In real life it’s in its 4th season, but since I’ve been in a Middle Eastern time warp I only discovered it last week. Ironically my sister was trying to recommend a different show, but I mistakenly started this one instead and love it. It’s about a wealthy family in the Hamptons who uses their money and power to hide all the illegal and unethical actions they take to preserve their wealth and power. In the pilot a woman moves into their neighborhood with the sole intent of entering their exclusive circle and getting revenge on all the people who wronged her when she was a child. At the beginning of the series each episode focused on her plan of revenge for a particular character. It’s also told with a bit of flash forward/flash back so I may find out that someone dies in the first episode, but not how or who did it until many episodes later. Each show unveils more pieces of the puzzle.

As we’ve moved further in, the show has lost some of its cleverness and preciseness and turned into more of a big picture soap opera (a character was even in a coma last night. Thankfully no one has had amnesia yet!) but it’s fun, pretty clean for a TV show for adults, and I love seeing what the writers come up with as they weave a story full of twists and turns. I love when a show is unpredictable.