People have asked me, “How I’m doing about Haiti.” It unsettles me when I hear this question.  How are they doing about Haiti?  Should I feel differently than they?  Do I feel differently?  I was there 40 years ago, when I was 15. 
“Don’t be afraid of death…” These words were spoken by a woman carried out of the rubble six days after the first quake.
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I am very afraid of death. I confess. I think my fear started there…in Haiti.
This catastrophe is nothing but death and fear staring us all in the face everyday on the news. It was the same 40 years ago for me – and it is now.
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I still feel helpless. I still pray.  I wonder about it all.
Perhaps the worse part of people asking me this question is that it takes me right back to Haiti emotionally, as a teenage child. I can’t really do anything that’s truly helpful now, except donate money, just like the rest of us sitting comfortably in our homes and offices.  I feel guilty about being grateful I’m not in Haiti today. That makes the question harder to hear. Fear and guilt.

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Mike always said that he wished he met me before I went to Haiti.  He thought all my troubles began there.
The troubles he referred to was/is the emotional turmoil I bear deep within my soul from seeing starving children, hearing gun fire and running for cover, of the zealous Christians who believed the people needed to know Jesus above all, of voodoo, exorcism, rejection, fear and sickness.
He thought my physical ailments started there too – or at least they were seriously exaccerbated by the amebic dysentery I acquired during the trip. My digestion has never been right since.

Perhaps the physical and mental issues I carry began blending together into a major problem when I was in Haiti.  I think Mike knew me better than I ever could know myself.
I was a spoiled middle-class brat going to a country that “needed me” as a missionary. uh …..not.
They didn’t need me.  They needed food and clean water, then.  They need food and clean water now. 
They didn’t need me to tell them about Jesus so their souls could be saved. They needed to see his love in action  by our teaching the children how to read the stories for themselves. They will need education now more than ever. The world needs to help the people of Haiti learn how to fish rather than just giving them fish.

The children I worked with during the three life-altering weeks, did more to change me than anything I may have tried to impart to them.  If they took anything from me, it was humor. They laughed at me alot.
I was a silly white school girl with 30 beautiful black children to help get through a day.
We started our day with worship, we ate breakfast, cleaned, and laughed in the sun shiny days as we swam in the coral sea. I waited for the coral razor blades to slice my feet or an eel to swim between my legs.  I never did like the salt water of the ocean. But the bay and sea was lovely splasing against the rocks at the base of the orphanage. I wonder if it is still there, or if it was shaken into rubble and fallen into the sea.

They laughed at me on chicken killing day when I cried at the sight of the killing.  The chickens were the orphanage’s sustenance.  They ate their eggs, their meat and sold many at the market in Port-au-Prince. Seeing death like that was horrifying to this spoiled person who shopped in grocery stores where chicken came neatly packaged.

Are the chickens now stolen? Is the orphanage a safe haven now for many? I don’t know. I search the pictures on the t.v. and in the newspaper to see any resemblance of the orphanage. I’ve looked online.  I find nothing.

All these years later I am still affected by Haiti. I continue to feel helpless, but at least now as an adult, I can reach out with financial support and I pray in earnest for the precious souls of Haiti.

I can’t decide if I run out of time everyday to blog and answer e-mails like I should, or if I’m avoiding these things because I don’t want to face reality.

I think t’is the latter.

I have received wonderful suggestions on ways to improve my outlook, my physical shape and other things, yet I sit on my duff and just think about it.  I’m floundering.  I’m feeling like I’m out here all alone.  The weight is creeping back up at an alarming rate. The doctor I want to go to, I can’t afford.  I need a support group of people like me.  I’d better go find one before I explode.

Fred isn’t feeling well tonight.  He is having another one of his “spells”.  We can’t figure out why. He’s been diligent in not eating msg.  I don’t know what else to do for the boy.  He turns a pasty gray and just wants to sleep.  I don’t know if that’s good for him or not.  The doctors say there is nothing wrong with him.  If this is allergies to food, he’s got it bad.  If it’s not, I wonder what it could be?  I don’t like it when he’s sick. I get a scared feeling in my belly.

Oh, I wish the sun would shine for a whole week!

A friend sent this tidbit to me.  It made my whole  day;

Recently, in a large city in France, a poster featuring a young, thin and tanned woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said, “This summer, do you want to be a mermaid or a whale?”

A middle-aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.

To Whom It May Concern,
Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans.)
They have an active sex life, get pregnant and have adorable baby whales.
They have a wonderful time with dolphins stuffing themselves with shrimp.
They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Bering Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia.
Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs.
They are incredible creatures and virtually have no predators other than humans.
Whales are loved, protected, and admired by almost everyone in the world.
Mermaids don’t exist. If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? They don’t have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them, not to mention how could they have sex? Just look at them … where is IT? Therefore, they don’t have kids either. Not to mention, who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store?

The choice is perfectly clear to me: I want to be a whale.

**** my own thoughts here *****

I must want to be a whale.  Otherwise why do I continue to make the choices I do.  I must be perfectly content being a non-compliant lap band patient.  Stop eating M&M’s? Bread, Pizza??  I’ve spent a world of money trying to make my body different than it is. Money is not a magic prescription, neither is a lap band. Nothing is easy.

I am in my second year with the lap band.  I have lost 40 consistent pounds, 10 plus or minus after that.  I wish it were easier, but it isn’t. I wish I was more open to change. 

I keep thinking that at the age of 54 if I haven’t changed by now, I never will.  I just wish I could let it go, forgive myself and not obsess about it, but I’m simply not wired that way either.  My brain doesn’t let anything go.  That’s the problem.

I went to see Sally this week.  She wants me to consider using the book, The Four Day Win, to repattern my brain.  I am intrigued by the notion that I could repattern my brain, but seriously doubt it would work.  I imagine this doubt, alone, would compromise any success. Hasn’t that always been the case?

Beached whale isn’t good.  Happy, swimming whale  – ahhhhhh orca.

I’m sitting in Bowling Green, Kentucky.  Fred’s robotic’s teams just won second in the state. They competed against 36 teams from across the state, many of them were middle schoolers.  Thus, the second place is awesome! I’m so proud of Fred and what he does.

He’s down at the pool with them now while they burn off some energy. I’m sitting in the room will a belly full of good food, feeling grim.

I am hating everything about myself again.  Surprise.  Overindulgence.  My middle name.  It will plague me the rest of my life. It will never change. I will never change. I keep thinking I don’t deserve to be so happy on one end and so miserable on the other.

The lap band is not stopping my decision making.  I think I have a doctor’s appointment Monday.  What to do, what to do.  I don’t have a band support system now because the doctor’s office group therapy sessions are during my work time.  They begin before I get off at 5:30.  I’ve told the doctor it’s impossible for me, but they don’t seem to be able to help.  I like this doctor, but I’ve got to find a support system that works for me.

I do so hate these cycles.

I read a book today.  Yes a whole book.  While I was waiting for the robotics teams “heats”, I read the book, “I Choose to be Happy,” written by William Croyle and Missy Jenkins. Bill is a co-worker of mine.  The book is about Missy who was shot in a school attack in Paducah, Kentucky. It was before Columbine. She is a paraplegic now.  The students had just completed a prayer circle when the shooter began his release of horror.  In spite of everything, this young 15 year old forgave the shooter and knew her life was going to be fine.  Now 11 years later, she is a full time counselor, wife and mother. She still has her bright outlook and still feels no bitterness toward her attacker.

This story was very inspiring to read. Yet, it throws me into a bit of despair. She was so strong to work toward her goals. Physical therapy was painful and difficult.  She has to catheterize herself and administer other difficult things to keep her body functioning. All I need to do is stop eating carbs. All I need to do is take a walk.  She had adversity created by another that she has risen above and beyond. My problems are of my own creation.

After reading this book, I feel more handicapped than her. I feel bitter and angry. She does not. I blame my mother, Weight Watchers’ and many other things for my failures. She blames no one, but the one who shot her – and that gives her freedom because she forgave him. 

I know we each have our own road to travel. I’m getting tired of mine.  When will my brain just shut up!  I’ve got a great life. Any problems I have are my own doing.  Overindulgence is my middle name.

I can change for a month – but not two. I can chose the positive in a moment, but not the next. I can feel hopeful for others, but not for me. 

As I often say……arg.

I like the sound of 2010. It’s a nice, even number. I hope the year is equal to its name. Nice and even – healthy, hopeful and happy.  May we enjoy the birth of new lives, with no loss this year. My prayer is that family, friends and everyone on the planet, really, experiences the fulfillment of dreams, and that their goals are not cut short for lack of anything.

Resolutions?  Let’s see, I’m 54.  I am resolved to turn 55, to be kinder to others, to be more patient, maybe even to be a little kinder to myself – oh that last one will be tough.  Realistic?  hmmmmm. 

Fred and I watched Charlie Brown the other night.  I’m struck by how Charles Schultz captures the essence of each of us in his characters.  We are all Charlie Brown, aren’t we?  I resolve to watch more Charlie Brown in 2010. I hadn’t seen that particular show since I was a kid.  It was a revelation.  Go figure, enlightenment through Charlie Brown!
Go Snoopy, go Snoopy! 

Today we take the tree down.  It was a beautiful tree.  Fred decorated the whole thing. He is so talented. He could design trees for department stores.

I’m up in my “clobbered” office trying to figure out how I gather so much crap in such a short amount of time – like a day.  Wrapping presents turned the space into shreds and shards of tattered foiled snowmen. The desk has disappeared underneath the mounting bills and assorted cd’s we use to organize our overindulged need for photos and information about our lives.  I am feeling content, and as usual, a sense of foreboding.
This was a difficult week, albeit, fun.

We had a wonderful time in Fort Wayne. Family and friends of Larry and Cheri stood around his baby grand as we sang every Christmas song known to humankind. It was a warm, fuzzy kind of night. Fred has a beautiful singing voice and he sang every song too.  There was a guest there named Gloria. You can imagine when we sang, “Angels We Have Heard on High” and got to the long stanze of g-l-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-r-i-a! She waved like the queen of England. When we got to the 12 Days of Christmas, humor took center stage.  It was hilarious.   I laughed so hard.

On Tuesday, after we returned, I had a doctor’s appointment.  Graciously, Dr. Brown filled my band up to the 8 that it was before the surgery.  Welllllllll, let me tell you – later that night, I got the hiccups.  Typically, that wouldn’t mean anything, BUT, in my case, it made my stomach swell up.  It closed completely.  No liquid could go down or up.  I couldn’t burp.  I couldn’t swallow my spit.  It was terrible.  It was scary. I managed to sleep through the night. The next day I hoped the swelling would have lessened and I would be ok., but noooooooooooo.  I was miserable.  I called the doctor, who came back to his office, in between surgeries, to remove the fluid.  Ahhhhhhhh. Instant relief.  He took out what he had put in.  Now I’m back to square 1.

The lap band is a tool, the lap band is a tool.  Damn it.  It’s not the end all.  I sure wish it was.  For on Christmas Day, did I eat all the good stuff?  Yep!  You Betchya. Did I feel guilty about it.  Yep!  You Betchya!  Was it fun.  Yep!  You betchya.  And that is the problem.  Virginia Bakery Schneckin is my crack of choice, smathered with butter and warmed in the mircrowave.  Moose Track trail mix, dark chocolate. mmmmmmmm.  Carb heaven, calories in the thousands I’m sure.

I need my band filled again.  Maybe only to 7.  Will I ever NOT be hungry?  Nope, I doubt it.  It’s deep. Damn it.

Ah, but on the bright side of life, I can tell you we did enjoy our family immensely. 

On Christmas Eve we shared Christmas with Fred’s brothers and sisters.  They are great people and I enjoy them very much. Christmas morning we had breakfast with Emily and Mark, and Mark’s parents, Roseann and Mike. A lovely feast indeed. Then we went to Betty and Jim Listermann’s, for lunch Everyone was on their best behavior and it was a nice afternoon.  Following that, we popped in at Grandma Betty Mohr’s (Mark’s grandmother) As Fred told her, “You are one of my favoritist people ever!” She is. She is a joyfilled bundle of love who spreads sunshine to every person she meets. We were there about five minutes. Just enough to give her a hug. Back in the car we went on the journey to Ohio where Steve and Chandra’s for dinner as they host my side of the family.  Eating our way through love.  Forget the lap band. A great day was had by all.

The day following, Saturday, Dec. 26, Fred and I hosted “our kids” for the first time.  His twin sons, Scott and Steve, his daughter Krista and her husbnd, Will, their daughter and Fred’s one and only grandbaby, Kylie, my daughter, Emily and her husband Mark – “our kids”.  It was lovely.  I think I heard Fred purring from the dining room table.  No it wasn’t burps, it was really purring. He was very happy.  That made me very happy. 

Now Fred is in the basement family room watching our new TV with Bengals game in HD. He’s lovin it. I’m up in the office, as I stated above, rooting to find my desk, starting to worry about paying the bills, hating myself for enjoying eating so much, happy that I have a fabulous family and friends to make the holidays divine. Now as we look to the new year I hope it finds everyone healthy, wealthy and wise.  At least I’m praying for that for myself!  🙂

With the morning snow, Fred and I postponed our departure for Fort Wayne. We are having a Harry Potter Marathon instead. The dog and cat are fighting for spots on our laps. Eggnog, cookies and barbecued meatballs fill our bellies as the the critters whine for some goodies too.  Bliss.

I’m struggling with my feelings about food again.  My mother-in-law asked me how the band was doing.  Doing? With all the fluid taken out and now being slowly returned, once a month – I can say the band is doing nothing.  I’m eating like a starved prisoner who has found a feast waiting unexpected freedom.  What really makes me angry about this whole thing is that the first months of the band being put in, well it was heaven. The freedom was in the lack of hungry I experienced. Now I’m hungry all the time.  The freedom was not being able to swallow unless I chewed everything into liquid. Now I can gulp down whatever I want.  I remember crying with joy when the thought of eating was the last thing I wanted to do.  I want that feeling back.  I’ve had the band for more than a year now. I lost an initial 40, then I gained and lost about 20 more pounds in the last three months.  I lost it because of the hernia & surgery, then gained it because the band was empty.  Arg.

Have I mentioned that I have awesome friends? They dressed me up and took me to Brio’s for a Bachelorette Party. It was lovely. Don’t you love the veil? I was a little tired, but we enjoyed the evening. Yesterday I went for the final dress fitting. I am more than ecstatic to report it fit better than I ever imagined it would. Having the “pet rock” hernia removed and all the pain of the last month at least brought something good!

Laura McCafferty, Emily’s sister-in-law and renowned professional costumer, is creating the dress alterations. She actually wanted to take it in two inches. NO WAY! I know she says its best for fit, but I’ve got to say the comfort of the dress was wonderful and I told her no. Such a difference from the first wedding dress I wore. That one had to be let out by 4 inches on either side. I’m excited that the dress looked great and I felt rather pretty in it.

I hope Fred likes it. After seeing me with drainage tubes sticking out, vomit spewing out of me, bad breath, and matted hair, I’m sure my look on Saturday will be a big improvement. (ha ha)

Fred’s news was all good. He’s back to work, counting down the days to our big wedding day.

Friends and family are coming from across the country. It’s pretty exciting. There are some people we are wishing we would have been able to invite. Is it too late to ask? hmmmm.

Fred has given his cough and sore throat to me – and we haven’t even been close enough to kiss in the last few weeks. I reckon just breathing the same air will do it. One more week and we will both be healthy, right????

Fred is a saint. He prepares breakfast, lunch and dinners, cleans the critters, gets the mail, washes the laundry. He’s wonderful. How did I get to be so lucky?

I am watching a rerun of “Touched by an Angel” and am listening to Wynonna Judd sing the song “I Will Testify to Love” It is quite a touching song in many ways. As you may recall, Touched by an Angel story lines were almost always about death. I find the stories comforting. I sure wish we knew what really happens when we die. Are we just dust or is there a spirit that continues to nourish us in the beyond?

I have been thinking about Mike an awful lot lately. I think being so sick, then seeing Fred hit the floor, has made me reflect even more about the ebb and flow of life. I am so lucky to have been blessed with two remarkable men who love me. Life is precious. No matter the wrestling of knowing there is a God or if we are but dust, one thing I do know is that our connection to one another through love is amazing. It’s energy is infinite. It crosses boundaries of life and death. I loved Mike fiercely. I love Fred wholly. Emily is my heart. Family is my soul. Friends are the laughter that brings us out of dark sadness. Life is good.

All the colors of the rainbow
All the voices of the wind
Every dream that reaches out
Reaches out to find where love begins
Every word of every story
Every star in every sky
Every corner of creation lives to testify

Chorus:
For as long as I shall live I will testify to love
Be a witness in the silences when words are not enough
With every breath I take I will give thanks to God above
For as l shall live I will testify to love
From the mountains to the valleys
From the rivers to the seas
Every hand that reaches out
Every hand that reaches to offer peace
Every simple act of mercy
Every step to kingdom come
All the hope in every heart will speak what love has done