I named him Bert

His name is Bert.  Bert the Boulder--because a kidney stone big enough to startle the ER staff and make me think I was dying certainly deserves a name.  I would love to share a photo of Bert, but they had to blow him up with a laser on Monday.  May he rest in pieces...that do not hurt me...

I have not felt well all summer, and I now realize that Bert was quietly trying to introduce himself for the last several months, but I was being stupid.  We had a lot of summer ministry obligations, and I kept putting off a doctor visit.  By the grace of God, we made it through them all!  As it turned out, we left our last VBS program and went straight to ER, and not a moment too soon.

Bert was 7x12, and had planted himself halfway between my right kidney and my bladder, and the traffic jam he caused had given me a kidney more than twice its normal size.  It had also given me increasing pain and pressure.  I spent Sunday night in the hospital, and they blew up Bert on Monday morning.  Although they were able to retrieve most of him, a few small brothers, sisters and cousins have made themselves known since then.  I have never been in such pain.  Ever.  God bless Bert...

Although he did not try to kill me during any camps and VBS services (and I am really, REALLY grateful!), Bert has managed to completely derail our plans for some end-of-summer family fun.  My boys were hoping for long family bike rides, a trip to the zoo, and some camping; instead, they have fetched me water, plugged in my heating pad and helped me remove the child-proof caps from my medicine bottles.  I feel completely terrible about this, but I think God knew it needed to happen at home and before school started.  And He also knew that a woman who had been ignoring the pain all summer could likely not be trusted to deal with it herself, unless she was forced to by excruciating pain.

I have cried and I have slept, and I have cried some more.  I have lived in pajamas, taken the maximum dose of meds, left my bed only to use the bathroom, and ignored the combing of my hair until I looked like I was developing dreadlocks. 

I have been blessed with an understanding husband, patient kids, terrific medical staff and a church full of good cooks, who have been feeding us daily.  Friends and family have sent flowers, called to check on me, and asked their local churches to pray for me. The VBS supplies are still piled high in the living room and the laundry is overflowing, but no one has starved, or died while I was in bed.  Not even me.  God is good.

Today, I have finally started to feel as though I might survive Bert.  (For a few days, I wasn't sure.)  I even managed the strenuous task of measuring my sons and ordering school pants online.  I needed a nap after I was done, and that was ALL I accomplished today, but God has shown me that I need to take some time and rest right now.

I would appreciate prayers, as I continue to recover from the horror that was Bert.  I'd like to be well enough for the annual back-to-school shopping trip, and I need to get back to work next week, but clearly, this situation is beyond my control.  And it's time for me to go to bed.

Blogging IHC '14

I'll spare you--and me--the excuses for my lack of writing.  It's been a busy year and it wasn't at the top of the priority list.  But I miss it!  I really, really do.  I'd like to trim a few other things out of the schedule and keep the blogging.  (Can I start with giving up laundry or cleaning the toilet? Or unpacking?)

God helped in a wonderful way at IHC this week.  If you had told me a week ago that we would survive it this year, I would have laughed at you.  Or more likely, I would have cried.  That's what I was doing in an Indy dressing room not too many days ago, because I was completely overwhelmed.  There was too much to do, and not enough hours in which to do it. 

Somehow, all of it came together, hilariously and imperfectly, but beautifully.  Old friends and new ones stepped to help with the sound system and crowd control, taking pictures and teaching the Scripture.  People sent gifts to help with expenses, and loaned us supplies; strangers encouraged us and little people loved us.  I even managed to play on the platform and LIVE!  :)

The kids were amazing, and funny, and sometimes effervescent.  In case you're not familiar with it, effervescent is an old Indian word for "who gave that boy Skittles and a Redbull?", which is similar to scintillating, which is another old Indian word, for "that little girl has gone to the bathroom 7 times in the past hour.  Should I be worried or jealous?  I've had to go potty for 3.5 hours." 

Our boys were a huge help, and I am very proud of them.  Of course, I think the annual IHC picture may feature a photobomb from a boy in a horse costume, but they are Gene's children, after all.

We got no exercise at all, unless you count that I got into my control top hosiery every morning without help.  And we ate so much junk food that my feet look like marshmallows and I really, really need those control top pantyhose now...

The sermons--oh, the sermons and the music this year were worth any amount of weariness.  I dragged myself to every evening service wondering why I was there, and left feeling like God had meant some part of it for me.  Every.  Single.  Night.  (Except for a few brief moments when I was asleep in church; I am hoping they were not captured by the livestream cameras...)

And then it was over and I didn't really want to go home.  I whined my way through the cleanup of the Children's Chapel and wished it could last a little longer and I could visit with a few hundred more people.  I would probably have lingered and savored the glow, but life has a way of providing special little reality checks.

Gathering up the last armload of our supplies, I came within feet of exiting the chapel before I noticed a breeze and realized that a good portion of my skirt was wadded up with all the costumes I was carrying!  If I had waddled out like that, it would have been our last trip to IHC ever.  We would have had to change our names and move away...

That was it:  a sign from God that it was time to go home.  And so we did...    :)