Traditions

We have them.  We have a lot of them.  And the ones we don't have--we start.  And then stop.  And then start new ones.  Maybe you're like us, maybe not.

One such tradition that we started almost 40 years ago was this--my husband began taking the last 2 weeks of the year off.  Yep, those last 2 weeks of December were ours.  No work.  No school.  Just family fun.

And even though our kids have left the nest, we've continued that tradition.  I like it.  There's time to shop together, plan together, and enjoy the season without rushing.  We drive around in the evenings looking at Christmas lights, peering into stranger's windows and imagining what their holidays are like.  We do lots of shopping--food, gifts, more food.  There's a lot of togetherness--I've noticed. 

It is interesting to me though, I noticed something else this year as I was preparing for Christmas.  Just because my kids have grown up and moved out--well, it doesn't mean the load has gotten any lighter.  What?  Yep, you heard me.  Life is just as crazy, maybe even more so.  Which has caused my brain to work overtime trying to figure out this little conundrum.   I've tried hard you know.  Only to come up empty-handed, scratching my head and wondering why.  I think it's probably age.  I run around, spinning my wheels, trying to get everything right.  I like everything to run smoothly, every gift to be perfect and the food to be awesome.  It's a lot of work for this little grandma, but I do it.  And I'd like to think I do it well. 

Anyway, back to traditions.  I like this 2 weeks off thing.  It works well for us.  But, guess what?  It's the last year it will be this way.  My husband is retiring next year and then we will have every day off!  So, how will that affect our tradition?  Will we still do the same things in the same way?  I don't know, time will tell I guess.  Maybe, just maybe I won't feel so stressed next year.  We'll have more time to plan and get things done just right.  Perfectionism at it's finest.

We're halfway through this year's 2 weeks of vacation.  Today, being Christmas will start out slowly and then build into a crescendo as the rest of the family arrives for presents and prime rib.  Grandkids will be running amuck and dogs will be barking.  The oven will be baking, and the fire will be burning.  And as the day draws to an end, it will dawn on me that we still have a week to go.  I call it "return week".  So, with a name like that, why not make it special too?  Let's continue the eating, laughing, driving around, shopping, etc.  Why not,  there's a week left!  Let's make the most of it.

And that my friend--is my personality in a nutshell.  Let's make the most of it.  Life, family, fun, traditions.  Make them, break them.  New ones, old ones.  Just enjoy your family, have fun, hug, laugh, cry a little, and make memories.  Embrace your quirks.  One day, it'll be what you're remembered for.  Think about that for a minute! 

Most of all, remember what this time of year is all about.  For me, it's about Jesus, my savior.  It's about His birth, His life, and His death.  Without Him, I truly wouldn't appreciate what I have or what I've become.  I wouldn't want to experience one day without Him being in my life.  My question would be, what does this time of year mean to you?  What are your traditions centered around?  Mine are centered around God, my family, my friends and neighbors, and those less fortunate. Mine are centered around prayer--for you, for my family and for others.

So, as you mull this over, have yourself a merry little Christmas, and I'll see you all next year.

Early Morning

It's happened again.  Awake at 5:00am.  Oh well, I'll write.  There's much to share right now anyway.  Thanksgiving is next week, and my daughter and her family are coming in just a few days. My brain is going 90 miles an hour, thinking of all the things I need to do, buy, get ready for...so very many things. And yet, this is my favorite time of year.  It's beginning. The holidays.  The decorations, the food, the family, the friends.  Shopping, wrapping, eating, laughing.  These are the things that make my heart happy.

I woke up with a lot on my mind.  Friends and family who've lost loved ones.  Thinking about those empty chairs around the table this year, thinking about the sadness and depression that will hit some full force at the holidays.  So, I laid there in bed and prayed.  And I felt God's heart breaking, as mine did also.  I know it's hard for some. Even in my own family, it's hard.  Even among my dear friends, this can be a hard time of year.  I did the only thing I could do for them--I prayed.  Not just a little contrite prayer either.  I prayed hard.  I cried for them, I wept with them.  And in my mind's eye, I held them, told them it would be ok.  Told them I loved them and that one day, things might look just a little brighter for them, a little better, a little easier.  I hope so anyway.  Sadness saddens me.  I have one of those bleeding hearts, remember?  If you're sad, I'm sad.  And that's why I pray.

I woke up also with such a feeling of thankfulness and such a grateful heart.  This will be my 44th holiday season with my husband.  Well, married that is--46 if you count dating,  And yes, we spent the holidays together even when we dated.  We were inseparable, much like today.  As I lay there in bed, thinking, praying, I thanked God for my relationship with this man of mine.  I think it just might be quite unique.  You see, we still like each other.  We love being together, traveling, exploring, going on adventures.  And, as I watch him working outside in our backyard, or just talking with a neighbor--I can't help but feel those waves of love for him wash over me.  He truly is the love of my life.  Thankful?  Oh yes. 

And then, there are my children.  The out-of-towners are coming soon, the in-towners are coming over, we'll have a full house for sure, and that's just how I like it.  Our house is small but homie.  And when they are all here, my heart almost bursts with love and pride.  I have the most wonderful children.  And they've married the most wonderful spouses.  And then, oh and then--there are all those grandkids.  Seven of them.  Seven to love on, buy for, cook for, laugh with, and tease.  Thankful?  Oh yes.

I woke up also thinking about my friends and where God has placed us.  This neighborhood and town, this street, and house.  It's actually a miracle.  I'm so happy.  I'm so thankful.  I'm so grateful.  I have the most awesome friends.  If I wrote about even a little portion of what they've done for me and what they mean to me, I'd be writing a book.  I've been blessed beyond measure, my cup really does runneth over.  Thankful?  Oh yes.

Yes, I have much to be thankful for.  And, I am.  Very.  However, I also realize that some aren't thankful or grateful right now.  And that's ok.  Because I'm here to hold them up to God in prayer.  I'm here if they need me for anything at any time.  My home is always open to them. And I believe they know that.  At least I hope they do.  I have a saying that I constantly repeat--when I make a friend, I make a friend for life.  No matter what has ever transpired between us, intentional or not--you are still my friend.  If you've hurt me, or I've (unknowingly) hurt you, you're still my friend.  I am always here for you 24/7, no questions asked.  No apologies necessary, I'm still your friend.  I love you, I care about you and yes, I'm thankful for you.

So there it is in a nutshell.  I am grateful, thankful and full of love for my family and friends--far and wide, near and close.  I have enough joy for us all.  I love my God, my family, and my friends.  My prayer for you all this Thanksgiving is that something in your life shifts.  That something happens in such a miraculous way, that you know it's a God thing.  That your heart changes into one of gratefulness, and thankfulness, and that you know how much God loves you. 

Yep, that's my prayer for you this year.  If you only realize one thing, if you can only be thankful for one thing--make it be for God.  He loves you.  He's there for you.  He'll hold you.  He'll heal you.  He'll change your heart.

You might wonder how I know these things to be true.  Well, He did it for me.  Thankful?  Oh yes. 

Just a Kitchen

I've got some great advice to share.  Don't go house hunting when you're all drugged up on painkillers.  Not a good idea.  Or then again...maybe it is.

As I have mentioned before, I was desperate to get into a real home, with a yard and more room.  So, a house hunting we went.  We had looked at several (ok more than several) open houses and then met a realtor that we clicked with.  He then began looking seriously on our behalf for our future home.

Just a mere 2 weeks post surgery, and in a very drug-induced state, I fell in love with a cute little single story house.  All it needed was a new kitchen!  I could do that.  I had done it before.  And it was such a cute little house, a small cozy quaint little place.  It fit all my requirements--while on drugs!

I looked up at my husband, hand on my Hawaiian print cane, and batted my eyes.  Would you please buy me this house?  What's a guy to do?  He bought me the house.  We hadn't even sold our condo yet and we now owned a little fixer-upper.  It just needed a kitchen though, right?

So, a couple of days before closing, as all buyers do, we did our walkthrough.  I kinda wish we hadn't.  The house was empty.  I noticed right away that the walls were ugly and dingy, the carpets were dirty and the bathrooms appalling.  What in the world did I get myself into?  I felt like crying.  The house was so much worse than I had ever anticipated and needed work in every single room.  New paint, flooring, kitchen, bathrooms, everything!  And, it was so much smaller than I had remembered.  Also, I haven't mentioned the yard yet.  Ugg.  Front and back, just ugg.  I thought they were much more manicured.  Nope, overgrown doesn't begin to describe that piece of property.  I felt so completely overwhelmed and wondered--just what kind of meds did that doctor give me?

And then came moving day.  We met the movers at our new home, and as they unloaded box after box, I walked the house making lists of all that I needed to do--and thought about how much money I was going to pour into this sad little place.  I am always careful not to overbuild for the neighborhood, so I am frugal in that area--not any other areas mind you, just that one.  So, box by box, and chair by chair, the truck was finally unloaded.

Then the rains began.  It rained and rained and rained, and our new basement flooded and flooded and flooded.  There we were, standing 4 inches deep in water, unpacking box after box and praying that there was nothing of any value being ruined, namely pictures.  I began to cry, which made my husband feel horrible.  What a mess, and it was all because of me!  I made us buy this little ugly house, with a flooded basement, and an icky backyard.  Let's just say, I wasn't having fun.  We quickly unpacked those sopping wet boxes, looking over our treasures, making sure that nothing of any importance was ruined and finally called it a night.  We were exhausted.

As the rains subsided and we began to get some furniture into place, the little house began to take on some character.  Over the next few weeks, it slowly began to grown on us.  We tore out shrubs and cabinets.  We hung pictures and bought new furniture.  We made plans for the bathrooms and backyard.  Things were looking up.

It's hard to move.  It's stressful and fun all at the same time.  Fun and exhausting.  Exhausting and exciting.  I wondered--was this God's plan?  Did I hear Him right?  Or was it the drugs talking?  I seriously did not know!

It's been a few weeks now.  We've settled in.  It's looking better in some rooms and worse in others.  We don't have a kitchen yet, but it's coming.  Cabinets are being delivered today and installed later this week. Floors next Monday and counters a couple of weeks later.  Every room still needs to be painted.  And we are waiting for the vanities to arrive for the bathrooms.  We then will begin painting.  We are true do-it-yourselfers.  Well, sometimes we are, it depends.  On my husband.  You know--on what kind of mood he's in.  Hire someone, or do it myself--these are questions only he can answer.

We are both in love with the neighborhood, the little town and yes, even our new home.  It's beginning to take form.  It's beginning to be ours.  We going to take it slow, ok slower, as we renovate. First the kitchen, then the bathrooms, then the painting, then the years of maintaining all this...and we know that this will go on for the next 20 years.  And I''m ok with that.  Yes, it's true, I only thought it needed a kitchen, however, I was mistaken.  And isn't that kind of how life truly is?  We think it's one thing and then low and behold--gotcha!  It's that and a whole lot more!

We'll make this new home our little place--Grandma's cottage.  We'll love it.  It's the last stop in life for us.  Our little retirement cottage.  So we better make it the best yet!

Post Op--4 months

Good news!  It's over!  It has now been 4 months since my knee replacement surgery.  And, as I've mentioned before, those first few weeks were horrific.  They were worse than I ever could have imagined.  I've gone through childbirth, one natural, 2 cesarean sections, and several other surgeries, however, nothing prepared me for this.  The pain, the swelling, the crying, the pills.  I just didn't know what to expect.  Now I do.  I can advise, I can help, I can caution others. I am an expert.

The first month is bad, really bad.  The 2nd month is a tiny bit better, and so on.  Now, as I am 4 months post op, I am doing so much better.  I can walk without a limp.  And that's kind of a big deal.  I actually had to train myself not to limp.  It seems it was a learned behavior.  That after all my years of painful walking, I had developed a true limp.  Then after the knee replacement, and after the pain had subsided, I had to actually practice not limping.  Sounds easy enough, but it's harder than you think.

I do still have bad days--some swelling, and pain.  But, Tylenol and an anti-inflammatory seem to do the trick.  I try to remember on days that I'm going to be walking a lot to be proactive and take those meds.  I haven't had to take a "big dog pill" in several weeks now.  I am so proud of myself!

I am walking well, getting in my 10,000 or more steps daily and am looking forward to (ok, not really) getting back on my bike.  I have a lot of fear concerning bike riding.  Although I rode the exercise bike during physical therapy, I have yet to get on a real bike.  That's coming soon though.

One thing I would highly advise is physical therapy.  Go.  Go no matter what.  If it's the only thing you do, go!  I had therapy for 3 1/2 months.  I do believe that is why I am progressing so well.  More than anything you want that range of motion back in your knee.  I worked long and hard for mine, and I finally got it.  121, pretty darn good!

I've been asked several times if I'm glad I did it.  Hmmmm, I guess so.  I mean, I couldn't really walk towards the end.  I couldn't walk my dog around the block.  I couldn't even walk through the mall.  You know it's bad when I can't shop!  So, am I glad I did it?  Yes, I am glad.  I can shop, I mean walk again.  I am getting around better than ever, and I do know now, from experience that it will only get better. Each week is so much better than the last.

We had planned a trip to Europe this Fall, however, we've postponed the trip until Spring.  I need just a few more months to recuperate, and then there will be no holding me back.  I will be walking and shopping with the best of them!

In the meantime, I am unpacking, and having fun with our new home.  That's another blog though.  Wait until you hear about that!

Grandma's Cottage

Oops, I did it again.  After 3 years in a small stand-alone condo, I realized that I needed just a little more standing room, just a little more space, just a little more elbow room.  The neighborhood, the proximity to hiking and bike trails, national forests, waterfalls, all were wonderful things.  All except one.  The majority of my friends--they didn't live anywhere near me.  They were all anywhere from 20-45 minutes away.  And most days I would end up driving an hour and a half just to do things and have fun.

It was an easy decision for me.  So I started looking for another house that better suited our needs.  OK, my needs.  I must admit here that this little condo met all my husband's needs.  It was the right size, it came with lawn and snow care, it was close to nature--yep, all his needs were met.  And, none of mine were.  Fortunately for me, he understood my plight and joined in the search.  Actually, he did want a single story home, so I had that going for me.

I just needed more.  I needed some land, a nice yard for my dog to run and play in.  She's only 3 years old and she needs some play time.  A real doggie area.  Not just walks with mom and dad.  Real live chase the birds, chipmunks, and squirrels time.

I needed a basement, somewhere where my grandkids could congregate during winter.  Our winters are long here.  It's horrible to feel couped up. There was nowhere for them to play before.  Now there will be.  They'll have a TV, games, puzzles, books and a place to have fun.

I needed more rooms-- a reading room, a dining room.  This open concept thing just isn't for me.  When my kids came to visit and wanted to watch sports (did I mention that I hate sports, all sports, any sports) I wanted to have a separate room to go to and have an intelligent conversation or even sit down with a book or laptop.  I needed more rooms!

And then there was the good Ol' knee thing.  I wanted a ranch style home.  No more stairs for this old lady.  With this knee replacement--stairs are not my favorite thing to do.  Not that I don't do them, I do.  I just don't prefer them and I don't want to do them 10 times a day.

So, a hunting we went.  And within just a few short weeks we found her.  A small single story home set on 3/4 of an acre.  She's got charm and personality, she's cozy (another term for small) and kinda cute.  Some brick and white siding, a big porch, and tons of trees.  So many trees (read leaves here), so I am buying my husband a riding lawn mower--my gift to him.  He'll love it.  He'll be like a kid with a new toy.  The house is in a well-established neighborhood and feels very welcoming.  Just my style.  It's my little grandma cottage.

As I sit here this morning finishing up my blog, I am sitting in my son's house.  We are staying here for a few days while we are homeless.  Our old house closed a couple of days ago and the new one won't be in our name for a couple more days.  It's like a vacation staying here.  He owns a big beautiful home situated on the most gorgeous lot.  It's very peaceful.  However, it's the calm before the storm.  Because after we move--well, it's gonna get busy!  Crazy busy.

Our new place needs a new kitchen and new vanities in the bathrooms.  Not a big deal.  I have everything picked out.  So, now we wait--for the cabinets, the countertops, and the flooring to be installed.  We wait for the new furniture to be delivered.  We get to know our new home, new neighbors, and new surroundings.  I'm not really new to the area though--our old church is down the street, my friends live close by, and I've been coming out this way for almost 19 years.  It's just that now I'll be living here.  And that makes me so happy.

I'm looking forward to this move.  I'm not really giving up anything.  My friends are all around me. My kids and grandkids are still here (except for my daughter's family, am praying they move here!) I'm getting a cute little house to decorate!  The last of many things we'll be doing--as far as house stuff goes.  For this will be the last move before the old folks home.  This is the house we will retire in.  This is it!  Don't think we'll be slowing down though.  That's not our style.  We are movers and shakers.  At least we like to think so.  We just don't want to move homes again.  This will be the 10th home we've purchased in 44 years.  I'm done. Done. Done.  We now just want to sit back and enjoy life.  Hang with friends and family.  Be part of a community.  And settle in for the long haul.

So, if you see me on the street going for a walk with my little sheltie, if you see me riding by on my Townie Go, if you see me sitting on the porch of my little grandma cottage drinking coffee--stop on by and say hi!  The coffee's on.

The E Word

It's the "it" word right now. The word that's been bastardized. Hi-jacked. The word that, when it's used the way it is now--breaks my heart. The term is evangelical. Why? Because I am one. I am an evangelical Christain. It means that --I follow the teachings of the gospel, more specifically, the 4 gospels of the Bible. Even more specifically, the teachings of Christ. I follow Jesus--with every breath I take. I follow Him.  And I always will.

So when I hear or read people using this word wrong, I cringe. My whole being--implodes. I hate it. I can't handle it. I want it to stop, yet this very word that is descriptive of my lifestyle is being stolen. It's being bogarted. It's being taken over by people who name the name of Christ, who say they follow His teachings, claim to read the Bible and says they serve God, and yet...that's not what the world sees.

This is what the world should be seeing; this is what should be on display for all to view. The Bible says that Jesus is the almighty one, the alpha and the omega, the beginning and the end, and that he's our advocate, the author, and the perfecter of our faith. He was given all authority in heaven and earth, and he is the bread of life. He's the son of God, and he is our deliverer. He is faithful and true; he's our good shepherd and lays down his life for us. He's the great high priest, the head of the church; he is Immanuel, God with us. He is our judge. He is the king of kings. He is the lamb of God, the light of the world. He's the Lord of all; he's our mediator. Our hope and peace, our Redeemer, our risen Lord. Our Savior, the true vine, our counselor, mighty God, everlasting father, prince of peace.

Now, let me ask you a question. Is this what Christians are proclaiming and exemplifying today? Is this what is being preached? Or is there a new gospel being touted? One of hatred, bigotry, and selfishness?

Because I have to tell you--I'm not seeing Jesus being shared any longer. I'm not seeing Christians evangelizing in the truest sense of the word. I do not see that at all. And please, don't think I'm judging. I am not. I am just sharing what I see happening all around me. I'm just sharing what I hear from friends who are not Christians, what I see on TV, and what is shared with me when I travel abroad. I'm also sharing what I hear coming out of the mouths of those claiming to be followers of Christ. It is shocking.

For example. In my own personal life, in just this past year alone, from so-called Christians--I have received death threats, lost established 30-plus year friendships, been called horrible names, and severely judged. I have been told that I am a terrible writer (I never claimed to be a good one, just like to blog) and a lousy communicator. Also, my relationship with Christ has been questioned. Yet, I stand up for the underdog because I care too much. Because I have drawn a line in the sand, and I have said enough is enough. You don't get to tell you to follow Christ's teachings and spew hatred for mankind--their skin color and place of origin notwithstanding. No, you don't.

If you call yourself a Christain and claim to follow Christ's teachings, if you read the Bible and say that you obey its teachings, then you are an evangelist. You are to share the Good News, the Gospel, and the Word of God with others. You are to live it day in and day out with every fiber of your being. So, I am thinking, maybe my way of serving God, accepting the words of Christ, living by those very words, and being that good Samaritan--maybe that just plain rubs people the wrong way.

Evangelical. It's what I became when I accepted Christ into my heart as my personal Lord and Savior. It's who I am. It's what I do. I tell people about Jesus. I share the Bible with them. I teach them about God's love, acceptance, and forgiveness. And when that E word is stolen from my heart and misused, it does something to my insides. It makes my heart hurt. I scream out with my whole being--where is God's love in all this? Where is the empathy and compassion that Jesus taught about? Are we setting captives free? Are we binding up the brokenhearted? Are we acting like Christ at all? Seriously, when does this craziness stop? When does love your brother as yourself kick in? And how about loving your neighbor? And how about laying your life down for one another? Oh, and giving it all away and following Christ? That's a big one. Could you give it all away? Just to follow Jesus? Or is it more important to keep it all for yourself? To horde it. To ensure that only you, yours, and those like you get a piece of that pie?

Please, God, don't let me be like that. I want to be like Jesus. I want to be like your son. I want to give and give some more. I want to share your heart with others. I want to preach your word. I want to love your people. Not just white people--all people. I want to lay my life down for my friends--whether they still love me. I want to be your hand extended--Oh God. Please. Help me be more like you. Let me evangelize while I still can. Let me show others what it means to be an honest Christian. One who lives by what the Bible teaches and not by the newest false doctrine. Let me be light and salt to this world. Let me be loving and compassionate. Let me show empathy and kindness.
And Father, oh God--if one day, when I stand before you, and you say to me, you were wrong--let it be that I errored on the side of mercy. I cared too much, gave too much, shared too much, and had too much empathy and compassion for my fellow man. Let it be that I errored on the side of grace. I told others you loved them, even when they didn't deserve it. You still loved them. Let me err on the side of love. That I loved too much, cared too much. Gave away too much.
And then God, please forgive me. Because with all this rhetoric of mine, all this self-proclaimed goodness, love, and caring, I see that I fail you miserably every day. I know that I need to catch up. I see that I am just a woman who makes horrendous mistakes in this little life of mine, and I ask you to forgive me. Let your mercy and grace fall upon me, and continue to teach me your ways.

This, my friends, is my prayer. For me, my friends, my family, and my country. For the world around me. Let me be an evangelist. Let me be the E word. Why? Because that is my calling.
To share Jesus with others. And now my word has been stolen from me, and guess what? I'm stealing it back. Let the world see the E word one way. But I know the truth. The E word is my word. The E word is an evangelist. The E word is me.

Grandma Newknee

Yep, that's my new name.  Grandma Newknee.  6 weeks ago I had a total knee replacement.  My 2 oldest grandchildren thought that my new name fit.  And it does.  I have a new knee.

Going into this endeavor, I was so afraid.  As in scared out of my wits.  I had nightmares.  I had so many unanswered questions.  So much fear of the unknown.  How bad would it hurt?  How long is the recuperation?  Will the painkillers work, as in will they really take my pain away?  With so many unanswered questions, my stomach was in knots.  I'm sure that my blood pressure spiked with each passing anxiety-ridden day. 

I needed the surgery though, as my knee was bone on bone, and the pain was beginning to become unbearable.  I went from hiking 4-5 miles and riding my bike 20 miles at a time to being unable to walk around the block in less than a year.  In fact, I didn't walk, I hobbled. 

My orthopedic surgeon told me that I would know the time.  I would call him one day and say--I can't take it anymore.  And that's exactly what happened.  I was scheduled right away, which was good, not enough time to really change my mind.  I went in on a Tuesday morning and was released on a Wednesday evening.  They don't want your stay in the hospital to be long for fear of infection.  What is hard about that idea though, is that you go home with the nerve block still in effect.  And when it wears off you are already home and the pain that hits is overwhelming. 

Yes, let's talk pain.  First off, I hate pain, and yet, I've been told I have a high threshold for pain.  Lies, all lies.  I don't, I really don't.  My threshold was not high, it was low, oh so low.  My pain was off the charts when that nerve block wore off.  I seriously would have used a hacksaw to cut my leg off--that's how bad the pain was.  Let me describe it for you.  Let's say that someone took a sledgehammer and pounded your knee with it, then took a branding iron and burned your knee inside and out and then took a long sword and rammed it through your leg from hip to ankle.  That's kind of what it felt like.  I kid you not.

The pain meds I was sent home with did not work.  Nope, not even a little.  So, I called and begged to get stronger meds to be prescribed.  I was honestly a little (ok, a lot) perturbed about the pushback for stronger meds.  I was in pain, a lot of pain, and was promised by my doc that he would keep me comfortable.  I wasn't comfortable.  I was in misery!  They finally agreed though and I got something a little stronger--they worked, however, they also made me sleep a lot.  That's ok though, I needed the rest.  Boy, did I need the rest. 

I learned a lot about my knee and myself over the next few weeks.  I learned that sheets are heavy, the bathroom is very far from my bed, I hate sleeping on my back, I can read and comprehend while on drugs but I can't knit, cars are bummy and uncomfortable, roads have too many potholes, most of all, And, I learned that without my awesome husband and my wonderful supportive friends, I wouldn't have made it through this ordeal.  I needed them more than I ever thought possible.  One person, in particular, deserves a shout out for sure.  And that is my cousin's wife.  She had a knee replacement a few weeks prior to mine.  She along saved my bacon.  Any time day or night that I needed her, she was there for me.  Even though she's on the other side of the country and in a different time zone, if I messaged her, she answered back and helped me walk through this horrific experience.  She answered questions, offered suggestions and was a great comfort to me.  Again, the word thankful doesn't begin to cover it.  She was a constant presence during my recovery. 

Am I exaggerating a bit?  Perhaps, but not really.  My recovery was extremely difficult.  And yet, I've talked to some who've had it much easier than me.  My pain was excruciating.  It was hard to get it under control, my physical therapy was and still is hard.  I hated that while on narcotics, I couldn't drive.  I felt very dependant on my husband and friends for rides, etc.

Each week things did slowly improve though.  Week one was horrific.  I cried a lot, was in constant pain, had to use a walker and was very sleep deprived.  Week two, was a bit better, with my pain a little better controlled.  Weeks 3-5 were kind of a blur.  I read, prayed, watched TV, just tried hard to get through each day without too much complaining. By week six, I felt that I had finally turned a corner.  I was able to ditch most of my meds, was using a cane, began driving again and feeling like I had my life back--for the most part. 

Would I go through this ordeal again?  I don't know.  I guess I would have to, as I wasn't able to walk.  However, wow, I would think long and hard about it.  I would plan better, now that I know the ropes.  I'd have an ice machine ready, (my doc didn't send me home with one) I'd ask for the appropriate drugs to be at the ready, and I'd have a good many books downloaded to my kindle.  

I also learned a lot about my husband and my friends during this ordeal.  First off, my husband is the most amazing person that I have ever known.  He was and is so loving and kind.  He got up with me multiple times the night--taking me to the bathroom, getting my meds, ice, water, kindle, iPad--whatever I whined about, he fetched it for me.  That fact that he still loves me boggles my mind. He is my hero. 

And then there are my friends.  Wow, who knew!  I'm sorry to tell you this but I have the best friends on the planet.  You don't, I do.  They were/are awesome.  They brought me dinners, lunches, flowers, gift cards, books, etc.  They came over and knitted with me, and then when I could concentrate a bit better, they came and played canasta with me.  Once I was up and about, they became my Uber drivers.  Picking me up and driving me all around--lunches, shopping, Bible study, meetings.  I can't say enough about them.  I was blown away.  My heart swells every time I think of them.  Words can't express my love and gratitude for my friends. 

My kids were also such a huge part of my recovery.  Making sure that I was ok, that I had what I needed, offered to pick up prescriptions, run to the grocery store, just whatever I needed.  It just touched my heart.  I have been truly blessed.  

So, there you have it.  The story of my knee replacement surgery.  The good, the bad and the painful.  And since I am a blogger, I thought it would be appropriate to share my experiences.  I am so thankful that God got me through this ordeal.  So many nights I laid awake praying, crying, waiting for the pain to subside.  Now, I am able to lay in bed and pray and thank Him for getting me through this, for blessing me the way He has.  I don't deserve it.  But, I am so very grateful for all He has done for me!

Knitting Among Friends

Oh yes, I've taken up a new hobby.  It's something that I have always dreamed of mastering.  I had tried before, given up and then tried again--to no avail.  This time, however, it's different.  Everything about it is so much more fun.  It clicked.  No pun intended. 

I think the key is starting out with a bunch of fun friends.  Throw in some coffee and you've got yourself a little party. 

It all began this past summer when I found out that one of my friends knitted.  And I mean knitted.  As in sweaters, etc.  So, I swooped in and begged her to teach me.  Really teach me.  Fortunately for me, she has the patience of a saint.  As I struggled through my knits and purls she gently guided me and low and behold--I learned to knit.

I then, oh so sneakily, cajoled her into teaching several others.  This is where I would insert a wicked emoji.  We began meeting at my house a couple of times a month.  We started out by making hats.  Lots and lots of hats.  I mean lots.  Like 20 of them.  I think pretty much everyone in my family received one.  I then progressed to knitting shawls, scarves, vests and a few other items.  I was on a roll.  Get it?  A ball of yarn?  Pun intended.  

Yep, I fell in love with knitting.  It's now an addiction.  I have to go into every yarn shop I see.  I have to have future projects planned.  I have to knit every evening while watching TV.  And I even take it with me to the strangest places.  I just want to knit.  It's crazy.  I find myself thinking--I could be knitting right now!  It doesn't really matter where I am--I could be knitting!  Church, friend's homes, playing canasta--I could be knitting.  I really want to take my knitting to meetings with me but don't want to get kicked out or chastised so I leave it at home.  However, I'm thinking about knitting!  Addicted?  I think so!

We eventually decided to make this obsession of mine into an activity within our club.  I mean--why not?  We meet at my home, knit, share stories, laugh, drink coffee and then we all go to lunch at the local Mexican restaurant.  It's a great day.  What's not to love?  Knitting, friends, and lunch?

It's open to everyone interested in knitting.  I hope we never get tired of each other.  We are having so much fun.  We are bonding over a shared interest.  And we are becoming closer friends. 

Want a hat?

Oh My Aching Knee

I guess there comes a point where you just have to stop whining.  You have to be brave, bite the bullet and do it.  That's what I'm going to do.  I don't have a choice really.  I can't walk.  So there's that. 

I first tore my knee up about 10 years ago, had arthroscopic surgery to repair a bunch of junk and hobbled away, believing that it would get better.  Better--is a very subjective word.  Better in what sense?  I'll have to think about that a bit.  I guess it was better.  I could walk better, and I didn't have to take too much in the way of pain relief meds.

I blame the ice up here in Northeast Ohio.  I think I fell 5 times in the first 5 years of living here.  The last time was a doozy.  Snap, crackle, and pop went my knee.  I knew.  I just knew.  Surgery would be in my future.  I had hoped that my knee from there on out would be amazing.  It was not.  And now, just a mere 10 years or so later I am facing a knee replacement.

You see I hate pain.  Hate it.  Absolutely hate it.  I am a big fat chicken with a capital C.  If I could I would run as far away from this surgery as my short little legs would take me.  But, I can't.  I can't even walk fast.  In fact, I can't even walk around the block any longer.  I guess I'll have to hobble.  I think they'll catch me though. 

So, in just a couple of weeks, I'll go into the hospital and have a full-blown knee replacement.  Ugg

I'll be there for approximately 2-3 days, and then head on home with lots of pain meds, a walker, a cane and a husband as my nurse.  Oh, joy. 

As you can tell, I am not up for this little excursion.  Not even a little bit. 

I am hoping and praying that once the healing has commenced, once the swelling is down, once the fear has subsided--I'll be as good as new.  I'll be able to walk, hike, ride my bike and travel again.  The flowers will smell sweeter, the blue skies will be bluer, and life will be as it was before all the knee pain stuff.  Is that too much to hope for?  I sure hope not.

So, if you think of me, please pray.  Pray firstly for peace of mind, and then for zero to no pain as I convalesce.  Wouldn't that be awesome?   That's what I'm praying for!  I need to get rid of this stupid aching knee!

My plans during my recuperation are to pray a lot, watch TV, knit tons of fun stuff, play on my computer, hug my dog and sleep.  I wonder which if any will be accomplished.  I've heard those pain meds can keep one pretty loopy.  I like loopy though, so I think I just might be OK.