The one with all the TV clips

Yes, that's right. Today's blog will talk about TV! And of course you can't talk about TV without talking about commercials.........really dumb commercials.

OK, maybe that last part was a little rude, but I have to say, the commercials that are on right now? Are really, and truly awful. I will say, too, though, that there are some that are really great. Although they are few and far between. Take a look;

                          Now be honest. Doesn't that dog's butt really make you want to eat a Starburst? 


I want to show you one that I actually like so you can see I do have a sense of humor. I like this so much that Dan and I catch ourselves trying to come up with our own scripts that sound like this;
They do have other commercials on these same lines, and I have YouTubed every one of them. I love them. 
Well, as much as you can love a commercial.

 For this next commercial, my husband and I have talked many times, and we can't seem to understand how all these people are able to afford these huge houses with new furniture and appliances, as well as be home in the middle of the day. Maybe you can explain it?

I have to say, they do make you want to buy the appliances. So, in essence, the commercials are doing their job.......but do they have to be so annoying about it?

Now, this commercial shows one of the things that I really hate: BAD OVER ACTING! I thought that was supposed to stay on infomercials?
I guess they did it on purpose.......but why?
The Crunchy Nut man isn't as bad as the guy eating the cereal. He's just plain goofy acting.

Alright. I guess I've bashed enough commercials for now. So on to the main event; TV.
I have always been friends with my TV. When I was much younger and still lived with my parents, I had a TV in my room that stayed on almost all night. It was good company for me and it helped me to sleep so I left it on. Sometimes I'd be pretty restless and wake up at 1 AM without being able to go back to sleep and I'd put in a movie to watch. Needless to say that growing older and the stress of life made that restlessness go away for the most part, so that doesn't happen anymore. It also helps to have Dan right next to me. So I pretty much sleep like a log now.
But I still like TV. Especially at night before bed and I have to say that I love British TV, and I think that develops when you start seeing how many American shows have ripped off British comedy. Sometimes you can watch the American version of something and think it's dumb, but you may love the British version. Or vise versa. Lets talk about some of my top choices in TV.

One of my favorite shows of all time is The Office (American version). Now, this show started off as a British show as well, and was written by Ricky Gervais, who also starred on the show. I think the main reason that I don't like the British Office, is because I don't care much for Ricky Gervais. Something about him gets on my nerves, so therefore I can't really stand to watch him in great quantity. I am thankful that he came up with this idea, though, because now I can watch things like this. And unless you've seen the whole series, that probably made no sense to you. But that's OK. You may be curious and want to start watching now.



Let's see. Where do I go from here? Ah, yes. I was talking about British comedy. There are so many good shows out there that it's hard to keep track. In fact, Saturday nights here at home are spent watching British TV. PBS airs 2 shows ever week that Dan and I rarely miss. One of them is Keeping up Appearances.

And the other one is Are you being Served?. If for some reason it's "pledge week" which seems to happen for about 3 weeks every 3-4 months (?), we will watch something else British on Netflix. It's hard to explain, but once you get in a routine of something, like watching a particular program on a certain night, it's hard to kick the habit.

I guess that's why when House was canceled, I not only wanted to watch that series on Monday nights, I wanted to watch A Bit of Fry and Laurie, where Hugh got his "big start". I don't think most people even know he's a British actor because of the great job he did playing an obnoxious American on House.

Speaking of, I'm actually surprised I liked that show. House, that is. I was afraid I wouldn't when I saw it for the first time, but I actually got pretty crazy about it by the time it ended, and now I get to go back and watch all the seasons and see new episodes since I didn't officially start watching until the end. Sometimes it pays to be behind.

As for this show, "Black Books", it's probably more of an acquired taste. I wasn't sure about it the first time I saw it, but I got attached to it awfully fast. Bernard is the character you love to hate, and Manny, played by Bill Bailey, is so very funny. I've watched a few of his solo stage performances, and his gift of humor is great.

The I.T. Crowd has a little computer humor in it, but you don't have to be "tech savvy" to enjoy it. I actually learned a thing or two from it, and now when I'm told someone has computer problems, my first question is "have you tried turning it off and on again?"
I'm actually kind of glad the American version of this flopped. It just wouldn't be right without Roy.

"Coupling". The British "Friends".
Friends came out first, but I watched Coupling before I really got in to the American version. Now, as was "The Office", I'm thinking I like the American version better.
As I said about Black Books, this is probably more of an acquired taste.

And now, "Friends". This was a show that, growing up, I was never allowed to watch. I can understand it would be a little to adult for kids, but for adults it can be really funny. When I don't want to think about a lot......I like watching Friends. It's easy to watch and understand.
I also like how their episodes are all named "The One With......" Hence the name of my blog post.

Speaking of American comedy, I had almost forgot my "newest favorite". The Big Bang Theory's title turned me off at first. I didn't think that I would like it because I was afraid it would be to scientific for my tastes. Turns out I was wrong. These people all work so well together and play their parts perfectly. And let's face it......who doesn't want to be friends with Sheldon for like.........2 minutes?

For my final clip (because I have to quit eventually), I will show Fraiser. Even though he seems snooty, I really like watching Frasier. I never really cared that much for Cheers, but Frasier was something I could follow. And they picked the perfect person to play Niles (his brother). They play off each other very well.

So, these, in a nutshell, are my favorite TV shows, with the exception of some of the old classics (i.e. The Andy Griffith Show, I love Lucy, etc.) I hope that I have introduced you to something that you like, or reminded you of something you used to like. Feel free to leave me a comment about your most loved or hated TV shows, as well as commercials. I'm always open to new things!

Men, Women, and Father's Day.

Since I've started this blog, I've tried to post something at least once a week. It's kind of a goal I've set for myself. It gets me thinking and pondering, and hopefully coming up with an amusing or funny story I'd like to share in the process. Eventually, I hope to get better at it, but I hope you all stick around while I'm trying to get there.

Today the thought that is floating around in my brain has to do with men and women and their differences in the way they do things, as well as Father's Day coming up Sunday. So maybe I can shove these two thoughts together. Let me see........Father's Day.......differences between men and women.......I've got it! 

As all the faithful readers know, mom has had some health problems for the past few years. This last episode leaving her pretty much down for the past two months, and probably 3 to 4 more coming up before she gets back to where she needs to be physically. In the mean time, dad has had to step in and take over the household chores. I fill in where I can, but they are both so independent, dad would rather work at his job all day, and work in the house all night than have me do stuff for them. So, I do what they'll let me do. 

Now, that being said, let me give you a little history on dad; 

I remember as I was growing up, dad would come home for lunch every day. He got a full hour, but it would take him roughly 10 minutes to get home, followed by 10 minutes back after lunch. It would still leave us time to eat, and then watch a partial episode of the Andy Griffith show together. I loved this schedule! Mom would have a big meal cooked, because dad loved to eat. Still does, really. But she was the stay at home mom, so the house would be clean and picked up, a big lunch fixed, and part of the time there would be pies or a cake or cookies or something good in the oven that morning for dessert the rest of the day. And it would be home made. Because, according to daddy, if it's not home made......it's not any good. If for some reason mom wasn't able to have a big lunch, or supper, and was running late, she would just put cold cuts and cheese on the table for "fix your own" sandwiches. Dad didn't like that. He felt as though if he had to have a sandwich, at the very least it should be assembled for him. True story. 

Dad is the hardest working man I've ever known, always has been, always will be. He would work 12+ hour days, standing on concrete floors in the meat shop as a butcher, come home and work for hours at his sawmill, take care of all the animals, including the 10 or so head of cattle he had for years, not to mention anything else that needed doing for himself or a friend. It was always dark when he left of a morning, and dark when he came home at night. But, it needed to be done, so he'd do it. He is still that way. The only difference is right now he's having to take care of mom's territory; The house. 

A couple weeks ago, I told them I wanted to clean their house for them. Believe it or not I was allowed to!  So, I took mom to therapy at 9AM, and when she was done we picked up some "brunch". We were back home by 10:30. After I got her settled in for a nap, I started to work. 

• First things first. I knew I wanted to fix supper, so I pulled some meat out of the freezer to thaw. 
• Next I picked up some odds and ends that were scattered here and there and put them away. 
• Then I started dusting, vacuuming and sweeping in every room except the kitchen. I always do it last.
• I cleaned both the bathrooms and emptied the trashes. 
• I remade dad's bed that he'd been sleeping on because it was wrinkly. 
• I walked to my house to get some yeast to start some home made bread. 
• Did a load of laundry.

I did all of this without waking mom up. I felt like I was pretty quiet, and things got done without her being disturbed. I like this! After I had finished all the picking up, dusting, vacuuming and sweeping in every other room, I started on the kitchen. 

• I cleaned off the cabinets (because dad has a bad habit of piling things on them)
• Wiped everything down
• Swept the floor
• Emptied the dishwasher and then put the dirty dishes in it
• Emptied the trash
• Finished my bread so it could raise. 

Feeling very accomplished, and mom had woke up by this time, so I came to town, paid some bills and bought a few things I needed for supper, then proceeded to come home and start fixing said supper, as well as 3 loaves of home baked bread. Now, I was done with everything with some time to spare. I stalled supper a bit so it would be hot when dad came home. I pulled the last loaf of bread out of the oven at 5:30. 

What does this have to do with my subject? Because this is a big difference I've noticed between men and women, and the next part of this discussion involves my dad. See? I knew I could do it. Let's give an example of how a man would handle something similar to this.

When dad's off, he never spends a full day in the house, but my wonderful dad was home this morning. While he does everything well, I can't help but notice that he does it in a very inefficient manner. He can't cook his breakfast, and mom's breakfast at the same time. They're having 2 different kinds of eggs, yes, but other than that...........

Then, he's cleaning the kitchen after breakfast. He's practically running through there. In all fairness, though, that is dad's manner. He's always been that way because he has a lot to do, but faster is not always better. 

I felt bad this morning because mom was trying to get some extra sleep after breakfast. There was no way ANYONE was going to sleep at that time. Dad was banging on plates, slamming the dishwasher door, stomping across the floor while taking scraps outside and then slamming the door, stomping back across the floor as he came back in. All the while trying to talk to me. Every move he made jarred mom awake, and she'd look at me with a sour frown as if to say "I wish he'd just be quiet!" 

To top it all off, cleaning the kitchen alone took him an hour. AN HOUR! I felt like a nervous wreck by the time he got done. He's like this with most inside chores. 

So here's my question; Do you think that men are just unaccustomed to doing household chores, therefore making it seem harder for them to handle? Or, God has given women special patience when it comes to running a smooth house? Or, is there another reason?

There are "Mr. Mom's" out there, and my dad is great at getting things done, so I am in no way complaining. I'm so very proud to have a dad like him. I just can't help but wonder if things like this are one of the reasons men and women are made so differently. Oh, and so I'm sure to come full circle on my subject, Happy Father's Day to all the great dads out there......especially mine. 

I would love to hear your opinions.

DISCUSS! 

Growing Pains

My birthday is coming up in roughly 6 weeks.

I will be 25.

Where did the time go?


I'm slapped in the face with this realization almost every day. I can't believe how fast that time flies. It seems like just yesterday that I was studying the drivers manual for my written permit test. Not 10 years. I was so excited! I couldn't wait to drive. It was a sense of freedom, control, and all around coolness. I craved every minute of it, and even wanted to be older. Can you believe it? I WANTED to be older. 
Think about it. We were never just "12"...........we were always "12 and a 1/2". Or "I'll be 13 in just 8 months!". Never satisfied.


At 12 I wanted to be 13 because then I would be a "teenager".
At 13 I wanted to be 15 because I could get my driving permit.
At 15 I wanted to be 16 so I could drive by myself.
At 16 I wanted to be 18 so I could be counted as an adult.
At 18 I wanted to be 20 so I wouldn't be a "teenager" anymore.

GAH!!!! When do you stop? When do you stop wishing your life away?

For me, I think it stopped about the time I turned 21. Of course, I got married that year and everything was going fine. I felt as though I had reached a point in my life where everything was just so great, I wanted time to slow down, but it didn't. It sped up.
I swear, I don't know where the last 4 years have gone. I only blinked once......maybe twice.....and here it is again. My birthday.

Now, please don't misunderstand me. I am eternally grateful to God for giving me another year. And I will celebrate this birthday just like I have celebrated every other birthday. Because I really do enjoy them.
I guess I'm just being overly sentimental today.
See, when I ponder my life, I also ponder many things that have happened in my lifetime. I wonder about choices that I've made, people that I've met, pets that I had......... And as a matter of fact, today my horse passed away due to lung problems. I hadn't gone for a ride in years, but I'll still miss going out and talking to her at the fence.
I have had many pets in my lifetime and they've all died before I could truly appreciate them. And why? Because I was too busy wanting to be older. I just pray that I never let that happen with the people that I love.

I talked to a friend of mine today, also. I've known her for almost 10 years, and she was Maid of Honor at my wedding. Basically, we decided to "see other people". Not saying that we're not still friends, but we're just not on the same page with our lives right now.
This made me sad too, even though we both agreed that it shouldn't make either one of us feel bad over our decision. If you have to try to come up with things to talk about, chances are you've outgrown each other, and eventually, it's just too tiring for the both of you. So, you agree to see each other every 6 months or so and discuss your lives over a cup of hot chocolate and move on. What else can you do?
Because, time does go on, and people do change. I'm not the same as I was 5 years ago......shoot....I'm not the same as I was 1 year ago. Truth be told, I'm glad because I'm pretty sure my husband and I couldn't live together if we were both the same as we were 8 years ago when we met.

After 25 years, though, I think it's mostly safe to say I'm starting to settle in to who I am.

A person that likes her life.
Likes spending Saturday night at home with her husband watching British television and eating ice cream.
Likes how on special occasions they drink Welch's grape juice out of stemmed glasses.
Likes the fact that she's so close to her family, both physically and emotionally.
Likes the way she can talk about herself in the third person.........

OK, maybe not that last one. But it is fun sometimes. In reality I will always be a kid at heart. Here I was wishing to be older, but I never completely grew up. And maybe, you're never supposed to, completely. If you can't have some fun once in a while, this life can get pretty tiring. Although, a young woman told me once "You are not a typical 23 year old. You're just weird! Who wants to stay home on weekends? Who doesn't drink? Who doesn't live with their boyfriend before getting married?"
Me. I guess that's what makes me weird. But as I've said before, I like being weird.

So if you're young and reading this blog, please take advice from me. You may not know me personally, but I wished my life away and never took time to enjoy where I was at. Don't do that. Enjoy being whatever age you are right now, because time moves so quickly it won't be long until you're grown. And you can't go back. Ever.

As for me, I'm going to enjoy the rest of 24. I don't know what will happen these next few weeks before my birthday, or even the weeks to follow, but I want to make every second count. I want to be happy and praise God for all of his blessings on me and my family. I want to spend lazy days with Dan and cook suppers for mom and dad, joke with Russ and Skyla and play with Madysen just as much as possible. Yep. I want to enjoy who I've become. No more taking time for granted, and no more wishing my life away. Each day is a gift, and it's time I started appreciating it.

I drive around blaring banjo music.

I'm pretty sure the title of this post is a statement not heard nearly as often as it should be.

Like homeschooling, certain TV shows, and pretty much everything else I will or have talked about in this blog, banjo music is severely misunderstood.
Lets be honest for just about 2 minutes. Close your eyes and picture someone playing a banjo. Now, unless you grew up around them, or you play one, or you have a good grasp on how complicated and beautiful they are, the thought that crossed your mind was of a toothless, barefoot hillbilly in overalls and no shirt sitting on the porch of a shack playing a banjo. Am I right?
If so, don't be embarrassed. This is what we call a stereotype. I'm not saying there aren't banjo players like that out there, but they are much......much.....the minority.
If that wasn't what you pictured. congratulations! You may someday be a bluegrass enthusiast like me.

My delight and love of this instrument hasn't always been, but has grown very slowly over time.

As a very young girl, my parents house was always blasting bluegrass music at me. A sound I detested at the time, but could do nothing about. After all, I was just a little girl, and my dad has to be the most bluegrass loving man I have ever had the privilege to know. Not just any old bluegrass, though. Traditional Bluegrass.  If I were to try and explain dad's definition of traditional, it would have to be this;
You only use guitars, banjos, mandolins, fiddles, and an bass......but it has to be an upright......nothing is plugged in to amplification, and ABSOLUTELY NO DRUMS!

If you were to ask me what caused my hatred of bluegrass, I would have to say I didn't really know. That I can remember, I had no good explanation. It was probably because my dad loved it so much and it was an opportunity to rebel.
My sense of musical taste was very limited when I was young, and I can understand why to a degree. Dad loved bluegrass so much that he just wanted me to love it too, and since I was home-schooled, I was in a controlled listening environment and at least they knew bluegrass was clean. Well, as clean as bluegrass can get. They still have stories about ending up in jail and killing your wife because she cheated on you.......but that's part of it's charm.
So, I had strictly bluegrass at home, and if I was out somewhere, it was normally with my brother and/or sister-in-law (both 17+ years my senior), who loved country music. 90's country music. Lots or Reba McEntire, Billy Ray Cyrus, Tim McGraw.......etc. Feeling the way I did about bluegrass, I went the country direction. Plus, I thought it would score me some cool points with the sis-in-law. I mean, let's face it. I was a home-schooled, sheltered, over-protected loser (in her opinion). I needed all the points I could get!

If you would have told me at age 13 that there was a genre out there called Experimental Jazz Fusion, I probably would have given you a questioning look and asked  "What is a Gen....er.....e?" I could have sworn to you at that time there were only 2 kinds of music, and the queen of both was none other than the great Dolly Parton. She was, and always will be one of my favorite artists. Her talent has never ceased to blow my mind. When I was around 9 or 10, I had lots of cassette tapes of Dolly and I listened to them almost non-stop. Then, when I was about 12, I got my first CD player for Christmas and my first CD was a used "Best Of Dolly" that my mom found in a pawn shop. I still have it, and sometimes when I'm in a real good mood, I'll play the first track, which is "Mule Skinner Blues" and sing with her at the top of my lungs. It brings back memories of when I first learned all the words to that song and would (I'm sure) drive mom crazy by playing it while working in my history book. Many other artists entered my life after my "Dolly phase", but none can ever replace her in my heart.

As I grew older, I constantly battled my growing tolerance of bluegrass. I can remember not wanting to like it, but I can't remember why. Perhaps my mind was full of stereotypes, thus making it not "cool" enough. But this annoying, un-cool music was starting to creep into my head, and that upset me. It was a couple of years after this time before I actually let my dad know that I liked "his music". I mean, I couldn't let him know. He might want me to........listen to some with him, or something.

When I was about 17, I met a man who was more music minded than anyone I have ever met. He liked many, many different types of music.......more than I'd ever thought of knowing, and could tell you about all of them. He was amazing. So amazing in fact, that I married him 4 years later. (We'll talk about our relationship some other time. Although, it is very music oriented.)
When we first started dating, he introduced me not only to bluegrass like I'd never known, but Newgrass, Jazz, Celtic, Folk, Rock, Contemporary Christian, and countless others. I was quite literally shocked and amazed by what I had missed out on all those years. It was as if those bands had just been sitting there waiting on me. I was eternally, hopelessly, completely in love with music.

A band that struck a particular "chord" with me, was the New Grass Revival. Now, there were a couple formations of this band, so I linked to the one I liked the best. If you haven't heard these guys, I strongly suggest that you give them a listen. My favorite line up involved Sam Bush, John Cowan, Pat Flynn, and Bela Fleck. These four men aren't just fabulous as a group, they will individually blow your mind.
They were instantly added to my "favorites forever" list. And trust me, it's not easy getting on that list.

After hearing NGR and some other genres of music, the stereotypes that had been formed in my mind, either by me or someone else, began to fade away and I started to appreciate talent from all forms of music in the world. (Except Rap. I don't think I'll ever understand that one). I had opened up my mind and began to find beauty in the misunderstood.

I am now proud to say that I not only listen to music with banjos in it, but I play one as well..........in fact, I play with a bluegrass band. That music that I thought was so awful as a child, is now at the top of my list. Amazing how time changes you, isn't it? No, I don't like everything......and probably never will. But I do give it a chance.
I hope that some of you are going to leave this blog after reading this, and look for a type of music that you don't normally listen to. Who knows? You might just grow to love it.

God's Miracles----Part 2

Part 2.

So, where I left off in the last post was pretty much where we stayed for roughly 4 years. I went ahead and got married and started a life with my husband, although we were never far away. Mom learned to live with the struggles of doing things with one arm. If you think about it, I mean, really think about it, doing things with just one arm and hand is difficult. Especially when it's the dominant hand you've lost.
(As an aside, I once tried tying my right arm to my side and going about my day. It's not easy to do. Wash your hair.....go to the bathroom.....drive......cook a meal from scratch........the list goes on.)
The worst part was the Phantom Pain. She'd be in tears because of the pain she felt from an arm that wasn't there anymore. The hospital in Kansas had given her pain pills, but they didn't seem to do a thing for it.
But other than the pain, mom adjusted so well! I remember going to their house one day and on the stove was a pot of potatoes. Peeled! I asked if dad had peeled them and she said no. Mom had peeled roughly 15 potatoes by herself. Her cleverness never ceased to amaze me. When her great-granddaughter was born in 2009, she was so happy. She held her, rocked her, and even changed diapers. She told me it was good practice for when I had a baby. This way she'd be prepared and already know how to handle mine.

Enter 2012

The first couple months were business as usual. Mom had started taking care of her mom (we all call her Mammy--Age 91) almost full time the end of 2011 and by the first of March, we could tell that it was starting to wear her down. She didn't have the energy she normally had, but mom insisted she was fine.
One morning she awoke with a UTI (urinary tract infection). Those are actually pretty common for mom, so we didn't think much about it. She went to her primary doctor and got a prescription just like always. But this time was a little different. The pills didn't help. Instead, they seemed to make her dizzy. In fact, the dizziness started that afternoon and seemed to get worse every day that she took the pills. She stopped taking them over that  weekend, but the dizziness didn't leave, and she still had the UTI. She went back to the doctor the following Monday, telling them she must have had an allergic reaction to the pills they gave her. They prescribed something different and sent her on her way.

Over that week, the dizziness still lingered, and on top of everything, mom starting having "near fainting episodes" at night. It would be almost time for her to go to sleep and her heart would go crazy, not with pain, but by beating very rapidly, and she would feel as though she was already asleep, and if she actually slept, she didn't know if she'd wake up. She never told me about these issues, but dad did. He said that she'd tell him that she loved him and for him to tell her kids how much she loved them, just in case she didn't make it. She wanted to be held and talked to and kept awake for as long as possible. Then her heart would ease down to a normal rhythm and she would drift off. This didn't happen every night, but about every other night. It seemed as though she was having the same issues through the day, too. One good day, followed by a bad day, followed by a good day. A never-ending cycle. So back to the doctor we went. We had ruled out medicine allergy because it had been around too long.  After discussing mom's diet at length, as well as the feelings she would have before and after she ate, Hypoglycemia was a definite possibility. Instead of putting her through the 6 hour test to see for positive, we tried just changing her diet. Lots of protein, eating every 3-4 hours, no sugar except good sugar........etc.  It did seem that after mom ate she would feel better for an hour or two, but it still didn't fix the problem.

So now, I'm trying to look up her symptoms on line, because......that's just what I do. The most logical thing that WebMD says is Hypothyroidism. So we start studying about that next. Mom fits every symptom. It's the most perfect solution. Even with that, there are still issues that she would have to face, but most of it could be cured with a little pill. Back to the doctor we go.
By this time, we're going to the doctor 1-2 times a week to try and figure this out. But when they test for thyroid problems and the test comes back negative, we're really starting to wonder what could be wrong. After they take more blood to run tests for Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Rheumatoid arthritis, and Lupus my brother speaks up with an alternative; Charlene. A massage therapist / herbalist, who's a very intelligent woman, that listens to your body to know what's wrong with you. Now, mom and dad aren't really in to alternative medicine, but by this point, we're willing to try anything. Plus, Russ had great luck with her. She had cured his kidney, pancreas, and liver problems with nothing but herbs, and he had't even told her there were problems there. He knew there were problems there from trips to the doctor, but she knew there were problems from the massage. It's quite amazing to watch, really.

We schedule an appointment, and Russ takes mom for her first treatment. Charlene worked and worked and discovered fluid in mom's chest around her heart. She said that could be causing the rapid heart beats, as well as the dizziness. After one treatment, the dizziness is gone. She asked mom about her phantom pain pills, and told her that they were ruining her liver. So those pills went bye bye. Mom stopped taking them immediately, and after about 3 sessions with Charlene, he phantom pain was next to nothing. The only other thing Charlene could find wrong with mom was a signal coming from her head. Based on all the fluid build up (which apparently is common amongst depressed women) and the other symptoms, she felt as though the signal was telling her Depression was the problem. She worked with mom's mood, gave her herbs that were to improve your outlook......all kinds of things. Essentially, mom was better for a couple weeks. She felt better, but she had no strength. She wouldn't eat hardly anything, she was irritable, and confused a lot of the time.
She had to send Mammy to live with my uncle because of the simple fact that mom could no longer care for her. She couldn't even care for herself. Most of the time, it was a struggle to get up and go to the bathroom, and when she did, she was as winded as if she'd walked a mile.

Wednesday, April 18th, 2012, mom woke up and couldn't feel her right leg from the knee down. Couldn't lift her leg by herself, move her foot or any of her toes. She said it just felt numb. She was also having trouble forming words to even speak. Our first thought is stroke. Dad says enough is enough and takes her to the ER. Once there, he explains what's been going on with mom, but all the doctor on duty is concerned with is how she lost her arm. Even though my dad insists there's something wrong in her head, the doctor does a chest X-Ray instead. What does he find? Spots. Roughly a 1/2 inch in size. The same thing they saw in Kansas 4 years before. So he tells mom to follow up with an Oncologist. "After all, this is an Emergency Room. You just need a cancer doctor." He told them. So they left and came back home.

God's works are mysterious. I don't know an actual reason that the doctor didn't find the problem that day, but I know there was a reason.

Mom suffered the rest of that day, as well as the next day before she went back to see Charlene on April 20th. Once Charlene saw mom and how terrible she looked........weak, pale, unable to move her leg, or form simple words....she was scared, as well. Although mom's speech had mostly come back, Charlene's  first thought was a stroke. But once she examined mom, she thought it would be possible that a pinched nerve was involved. I mean, after all, mom had just woke up with the numbness. Maybe she'd moved wrong in the night, and her spine was pinched in a way to cause the nerves to go numb. She made mom a chiropractor appointment for the following morning and worked with her for 2 hours, but nothing changed in her leg. Mom left the massage feeling much the same as when she went in, all the while convincing herself that the leg problem was a pinched nerve.

That night, Charlene called saying she hadn't got mom out of her mind all day. She knew there was something else wrong besides a pinched nerve. She wanted to come to mom's house and bring a friend of hers that was a Registered Nurse to examine mom. Once there, the nurse agreed with Charlene about it seeming very stroke-like, and told mom that it could be a blood clot, stroke, or something else. But she needed to have it checked. She told them that if mom changed at all......AT ALL......to get her back to the ER and demand a scan of her brain. My parents agreed, and Charlene and the RN left.
Dad checked mom about every hour through the night. He would wake her, ask her how she was feeling, and then make her repeat a sentence to see how she was understanding things and speaking. About 3:15 AM, he woke her and she couldn't form words. At all. She was able to get across to him to call me to ride to the hospital with them, so I was called. I jumped in my clothes and got in the car. That was a scary ride to the hospital. I was trying to hold it together to be brave for mom, yet I was scared to death and praying to God that she'd be alright. I was then reminded that she would be. A few days before, I had been overcome with a need to pray for mom. It couldn't have been more clear to me if an audible voice had said it. A tap on the shoulder, and some words spoken to my head, and my heart; "You need to pray for your mom."
So I did. I don't know what I said when I prayed, or how long that I prayed, but when I finished, I was given peace to know that mom would be OK. Now was the time that I needed my faith to stay strong. I'd been given assurance that everything would be alright, I just needed to believe it.

In the ER, we were given a doctor who wasn't concerned with what had happened to mom's arm, but she was concerned with what was going on in her brain. She ordered a brain scan, and within 15 minutes of arriving, we were called to mom's bedside for the results. The cat scan had revealed a large tumor on the left side of mom's head, on top of her brain. The pressure from the tumor had cut of her ability to move her leg and talk, and it had grown so large that it had ruptured and was now bleeding, which was making everything worse. She was admitted and the rest of the family was called. I put notices on Facebook asking people to pray, we made phone calls and stayed in prayer most of the day ourselves. We knew that prayer was the only thing that could bring her through, so we wanted as many people on this case as possible.
As the day progressed, mom seemed to get worse. We didn't know until that night when Dr. Kutz came in that mom had been monitored all day, and the bleeding had stopped that morning, right around noon. We know who did that. God was on the scene.
Dr. Kutz pulled up the MRI they had done of mom earlier in the day, and I'm pretty sure my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. It was worse that I had thought. It looked as though the tumor covered the whole back left section of her brain. The doctor told us that the tumor needed to be removed, because if it wasn't, she would die. She'd only have a few days left. But if he did remove the tumor, she would probably suffer brain damage. The most likely would be that she would stay in the same condition she was in at that time. Not walking, and not talking. That was discouraging. Mom was there, she understood things we told her, but she just couldn't say anything back. I think that broke my heart worse than anything. Watching her cry because she couldn't talk.
Dad called Russ and I outside the room and asked our advice. He didn't want to lose mom, but he also didn't want her suffering by not being able to express her thoughts. We decided to leave the decision up to mom. Russ worked out a system with her so she could communicate. She would squeeze his hand if the answer was yes.
"Mom, do you understand what the doctor said?"
*squeeze*
"Do you want to have the surgery?"
*squeeze* And then she leaned forward on the bed and said "Get it OUT!"
That was what we needed to hear. Words spoken in a sentence, perfectly understood by all. The doctor had said that since the tumor had stopped bleeding, he would be able to wait until the next morning to do the surgery, but if we felt like it should be sooner, he would do it that night. Mom wanted to wait, and we did too. If he had done it that night, he wouldn't have had a team or some of the proper equipment, but the next morning, everything would be as close to perfect as he could get it.
I'll never forget what dad asked him after that;
"Before I agree to let you do this surgery, I have to know something. Are you a man that believes in God and the power of prayer? Do you know where your help comes from? Because if you don't, I'm not letting you lay a finger on my wife." 
My dad's pretty great about that. Dr Kutz reassured dad and even promised to call the family in for a special  prayer right before they wheeled mom in to the operating room.

The waiting began.

Our pastor and his wife came up that night and we all prayed over mom while she slept. She never knew we were there, but God did.
All night mom would drift in and out of sleep, all the while moaning and holding her head. When she would rouse, we would ask her if she wanted some pain medicine, but she'd refuse. We took turns staying in the room with her. First dad and myself, then my brother and sister-in-law. I had sent my husband home earlier in the day, not thinking that they would have the surgery so soon. But now I know why I'd sent him home. It was so I could be there for dad. We'd support each other, boost each others faith, talk about the Scriptures and how as long as we believe, anything we'd ask for would be given us. We also started praying that mom would not only be alright through the surgery, but that when she came out, at least she'd be able to talk. We didn't want her to be trapped within herself.

A pretty Sunday morning dawned bright and early. My husband arrived before 6 because they were planning to take her at 7 AM. When 7 came and she was still in her room, we didn't think much about it, but when 10 AM came and she was still there, we were a little upset. Come to find out there had been an accident early that morning and there was a person with a broken neck that had to be taken first. We were pushed to 11:55. At 12:30 when she was still in her room, we inquired again. More accidents had occurred, so we'd been put off again. Finally at 2 PM they came to get her for the final MRI before the surgery. By this time, more of the family had showed up and were waiting in the waiting room. After they took mom for the MRI, we were all shown to a different floor where the surgery would be held so we could wait there.
After the MRI, Dad, Russ and I were called to wait with mom in the prep room. The doctor came in and we prayed. It was great. Our faith was renewed, and we knew that she'd be OK. We told her we loved her and she was able to say "Love you too".  We were walking out the door when she looked at Russ and I and said "Kids.......I'll be OK."  Such wonderful words to hear. They wheeled her to surgery and we headed to the waiting room.
It was 3:30 PM and we had the assurance of at least 2 hours before we heard anything. In the waiting room, there were about 30 members of the extended family waiting there. My grandmas, mom's brothers and sister, their families, cousins, close friends, our pastor and his wife........and what do you think we did?
That's right. We prayed again. We're not some of those people that thinks you can pray one time and then you're done. 1 Thessalonians 5:17 "Pray without ceasing" If a little does good, we know a lot will do better!
Dr. Kutz came out to talk to us at 6 PM. The surgery was a complete success. They removed it all, and cleaned out all the excess blood. He didn't know how bad her brain had been injured because she was still asleep, but her left side seemed to function normally. We could see her in the ICU in about 1 1/2 hours, but she would be there for roughly 2 days. Then we could expect a 4 to 5 day stay in a normal hospital room, then we'd take it from there.

Dad went in first, but was back to get Russ and I within 2 minutes. As we walked into her room, mom started smiling. Her head was bandaged, but her color was already better than that morning.
"Hey! There's my kids! Look, guys, I'm talkin'!" 
If it hadn't been in the ICU, at night, when everyone is supposed to be quiet, I think we all would have started shouting. Not only had God answered our prayer about her making it through the surgery, but he answered the one about her talking too. I knew then and there that not only would He let her talk, but she'd be walking one day.

She only stayed in the ICU for 12 hours, and only stayed in the hospital from Saturday, April 21st, to Wednesday, April 25th. She started moving her leg again on her own on Tuesday, April 24th, much to the amazement of her doctors. It stayed partially numb for several days after that, and moving it was a struggle, but let me tell you something. She's walking today. She wiggles her foot and toes.
Yes, she is constantly tired. Yes, she still has trouble focusing on things sometimes. Yes, it will take a while. But she's coming back to herself. Every single day she gets more and more normal. The doctors didn't do that.
I'm very thankful for surgeons and doctors that have a God given knowledge of the human body and healing.......but they didn't do it on their own. God's hands are guiding them, and that's what I'm the most thankful for.

When you put both parts of the story together, you can really truly see how God was at work through the whole thing. All the way back from the incident with the weed trimmer. I think sometimes that maybe that was His way of releasing that cancer. I don't know. His timing isn't ours. But one thing is for certain; Mom is a walking, talking testimony of what God can do when we trust in Him.

As for those spots on her lungs, we're going back to the doctor in 3 months. I'm praying for them to be gone. To have just.......vanished. Because I know my God is capable of that. He may not remove them that way. And if He doesn't.......He has supplied us with other options of treatment.

It's a shame that we take life for granted most of the time, and it takes something serious like this to get us back in line where we need to be. After all, every breath you take is a miracle.
Thanks for taking the time to hear my miracle story. I hope it has touched your heart in some way, and you realize how very precious life is.

We want to give all the praise and glory to God, as well as our never ending thanks for this amazing gift!

 We are blessed!