Treehouses

When they were kids, my brothers had treehouses in two of the trees around our home. They called the one in the tallest tree a clubhouse. They wrote a secret pact and stuck the paper between the bark and the trunk. They would discuss their members-only club and describe what fun they had in their treehouses.

I was very curious about all of that. They were older, so naturally, I assumed that they knew more than me. Their secret pact intrigued me. So, I got the notion to climb up in their treehouse to see what it was like.

I negotiated each of the wobbly boards carefully as I ascended to the pinnacle. They were rickety so I was nervous about climbing up. I kept my eyes skyward toward the treehouse platform. It didn’t occur to me to look down. When I got to the top of the tree and slid onto the platform of the treehouse, I turned around and looked outward and eventually downward. The world began to spin around me. I got really dizzy. I couldn’t move. I was petrified. That’s my first encounter with my fear of heights.

I decided to make the best of it while I was up there though. I found their secret pact in its tight hiding place and I opened it up slowly while checking all around me to see if they had spotted me yet. That secret pact was a bunch of gibberish that I couldn’t understand. I just thought that those boys were stupid to make such a fuss over something so unintelligible.

The real problem arose, though, when Mother called us to supper. I couldn’t get down. I’d try with all my might to reach my little foot down to the first step. It would move downward and I’d scrunch back up to the platform. I did this several times before I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to get down without some help. I began to yell for Mother to come help me. She sent the boys. Wonderful! Now they were going to know that I had gotten into their exclusive club treehouse.

They did come to my rescue, but only after chastising me for getting up there in the first place.

Several weeks later, I got brave again and thought I’d climb up the smaller tree to their other hideout. I discovered that my brothers had taken off the bottom step so I couldn’t reach it. So, I just got a lawn chair and it gave me enough height to reach the second step. I took my doll and slowly climbed up to the treehouse. I thought that I’d reached the sky. This tree was much smaller than the other one so I was not nearly as scared. I played there for what seemed like hours, then I climbed down and went inside.

When they got home from school, they scrambled up to their treehouses only to find that I’d left evidence behind that indicated that I’d been there. They discovered my doll. Since they knew I was afraid of heights, they conspired to take the top step off of the treehouse ladder. That way, I couldn’t get down once I got up there.

The next day, I scrambled to the top of the second treehouse to play again. It was a really long ways from the existing step to the treehouse platform, but I didn’t really notice that the top step was gone. Again, I pretended to be in a lookout for bad guys until nearly time for them to get off the bus.

That’s when I discovered (much to my dismay) that I couldn’t get down. No matter how far I reached my little leg down the tree toward the remaining top step, I just could not touch it. I stretched and stretched and nearly fell. So, all I could do was begin to beckon Mother to come and get me. She said I’d have to wait until the boys got home and one of them would come up and help me down. I began to cry. If there was one thing in the world that those boys couldn’t stand, it was my crying. Well, one did help me down and I was in trouble with both of them. They scolded me again and told me that the next time I climbed up to their treehouse that they wouldn’t get me down.

Because I was so naïve, I believed them. I never climbed into their treehouses again for fear of living out the rest of my natural life there.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Perception versus Truth

It seems that more and more often, I realize that there is not a wide enough separation between the perception we possess and the truth. I had this principal once who used to say, “It doesn’t matter what the TRUTH is, a person’s perception of the truth is their reality.” Although I understood and agreed with this statement, I only began appreciating it more and more the last few years.

Too often people don’t really care what the TRUTH is. They would rather wallow in their perceptions, slander other’s character, be the victim, or look the hero. Even small variations from the truth can give a totally different perception. People judge based upon their own viewpoints without ever seeking the truth.

Recently while visiting friends who are remodeling their kitchen, the husband said that he and his wife were fighting over the decisions for the makeover everything from paint color to cabinet finishes. I remarked that although my husband and I had built two houses that we had never even fussed once. His friend was standing there and he pointed his finger at me and said, “That’s because your husband is afraid of you!”

I was quite taken aback because that man hardly knew us. His perception was that I ruled the roost and bossed my husband around. The truth is that we agreed at the beginning of our building projects that my husband could have whatever he wanted in the house and what he didn’t have a preference for, I would choose. We were certain that his preferences were met first. Therefore, we never had any arguments.

I figure lots of people think that I am bossy and controlling. In my classroom, I would say that is probably accurate. But that’s because I must save my sanity amongst the teenagers. However, outside the classroom and at home, that's not the truth.

Ask my husband about his honey-do list and he’ll tell you that he doesn’t have one. He hardly ever has had one. Only when our schedule is impossibly crowded do I ask him for help. That’s not to say that he doesn’t help out, because he does. He takes initiative to do lots of tasks, but not because I ask or demand it.

So the perception that I dominate our relationship is not accurate. The truth is that we come to an agreement before proceeding. Sometimes we agree to disagree, but nevertheless we move forward. We get along pretty well that way.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Stradivarius

I’ve told several stories about my brother, Rick, and how he would use the fact that I am trusting to his advantage by telling me tall tales and having me believe them totally. Often, I would repeat his outlandish stories only to have the a few people hearing them assume that I was just lying. Since I’ve never been in the habit of lying, most people who knew us realized that my brother had told me a whopper.

What I haven’t yet told you is that my other brother, Gayland, has also duped me. He has had a love of music from an early age. Since my grandfather, Lemmie, was a fiddler, Gayland decided to take up fiddle playing, too. Grandmother Johnie gave him my grandfather’s fiddle so that he could learn to play. With perseverance and a few lessons, he became pretty good at fiddling. In fact, he used to go to the nursing homes regularly and entertain with some other musicians.

Once when I was at his house, he got out his fiddle and let me inspect it. In case you haven’t ever looked one over, they are pretty neat. The wood is beautiful and their gentle curvature looks so graceful. He pointed out that inside the fiddle there was a label that said Stradivarius. I peeked inside and sure enough, there it was. I had heard of a Stradivarius violin before. They are extremely expensive, extremely rare, and extremely old. He let me believe that his was one of those “real” Stradivarius violins.

I realize now that I should have known right then and there that that story couldn’t be true. Our family never had any expensive or rare possessions, just old and sentimental ones.

Some time later, I was chatting in the teacher’s workroom with some of my colleagues about families’ prized possessions. Of course, I had to share my story about my brother’s Stradivarius violin with them. They looked at me like I had three heads and most likely thought, “What a liar, the loser!” Nevertheless, they were gracious and commented, “I certainly hope he takes good care of it.” To which I replied, “Oh yes, he keeps it in its case whenever he’s not playing it.”

It wasn’t until several months later when I stumbled upon a copy of a Sears & Roebuck catalog from 1909 that I realized what a gullible fool I had been. There for all to see was advertised a Stradivarius violin offered for $1.95. Of course, it was a reproduction, but nowhere was that indicated. I’m reasonably certain that Gayland’s Stradivarius is a Sears & Roebuck Stradivarius reproduction since there weren’t but 1200 violins made by Stradivari in the 1700’s.

I look back and wish that I had never mentioned his violin because the one person whom I most admired and to whom I related this story, is now deceased and I can’t go back and tell her that I was a goober and believed my brother’s tall tale. Rest assured that I’m more careful now about what I repeat just for that reason.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

TGIF

More and more often, I look forward to Fridays. The springtime is very crazy with school activities, sports activities, spring cleaning, tax figuring, scholarship applications, FAFSA completing, Easter, yard work, etc. that I actually become like the students and say "TGIF".


"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

War is on

Yesterday, our community experienced an awakening. The entire day, Officer Brown, from the San Saba police department met with students, faculty, and community members to offer lots of tips on waging war against drugs in our community. He was joined by Dr. Killian (one of the local physicians) and Frank Craig (a counselor for drug addict inmates) in giving graphic, detailed information on what the short and long-term effects are on the body.

A large number of people of all ages attended the session last night. It was supposed to last from 6:00-8:00 p.m. and it wound up lasting until 9:30 p.m. Even then, although we were all tired, he had only scratched the surface on ways to recognize and combat drug abuse.

He challenged the faculty and parents to be positive role models for students. He challenged the police department, community, schools, and families to take back our kids. He urged all entities to support each other in words and actions. Finally, he said that while we were all in the same mindset that we must act quickly to develop a plan of action to wage this war on drugs and to give our kids reasons to stay drug-free.

He received a standing ovation and many rounds of applause during his presentation. I felt a camaraderie that I have not experienced here in Hamilton in a long time. Finally, it seemed that everyone was focused on the same goal. I was encouraged by the collaborative response from the audience. Let it be known that we have had a few battles, but now the war is on.

Advice

From time to time, my children ask for advice. They question themselves.

When my daughter asked what I thought about her transformation over the past several years from being a quiet doormat to being a self-confident businesswoman, I related this story.

“The adage 'To thine own self be true' comes to mind because all that really is significant is that you are pleased with yourself. Someone once said that they were at their best when they finally became 'comfortable in their own skin.' I think that you are approaching that stage now. The metamorphosis that I witness is amazing and overdue. You have come into your own.

You must know that I love both Britneys. Realizing that there are two means that you are growing. A blend of the two might be good, but finding out just who you are and being contented with yourself is what maturity is all about.

Recognizing your strengths and your weaknesses is a huge step in the process. Once you determine the "best" Britney, embrace her and help her continue to pursue joy.”

I think that was pretty good advice even if I did think of it myself.

UNOS Pizza

Over the last three weeks, I have had the rare opportunity to travel with my “big” kids to the metroplex. As a treat, we went to Sundance Square in downtown Fort Worth (corner of 2nd and Houston) to eat at Uno’s Italian Restaurant. Let me just say this: “Their pizza is the best – bar none -- that I have ever eaten -- in my life.” What makes it so good is the deep dish crust and the delectable cheeses that top it. I like the four-cheese individual pizza with mushrooms and black olives. The four cheese pizza features pesto and plum tomatoes topped with mozzarella, Muenster, Romano and feta cheeses. One piece will fill me up, but I go ahead and eat two just so I don’t hurt the chef’s feelings. Then, I take the rest home in a box so I can savor it later.

Is it any wonder?

People wonder why I'm the way I am. Wonder no more. The man in the picture on the right is my dad. Now, they understand exactly why I am the way I am.

A friend brought this clipping by to me last week. His mother is the tall woman in the center. While going through some of her things recently, he happened upon this picture. I scanned it and returned the original. I've had a lot of fun recalling that more tranquil time. Dad always had a neat sense of humor and it is exhibited by his "get-up" during Krazy Daze (a Chamber of Commerce promotional event) in 1965.

City Drug was the coffee shop of the day. Business men met there every day to exchange stories (not gossip, you understand, because men don't do that). As a child, I loved going there on Saturday's as mother did our grocery shopping. I would get a cherry phosphate served up in one of those Coke glasses you see on the table. Ahhhh,
memories. They are so precious.

Our Family

Our family is a blessing...

it shares so many things.

Words can never really express

the happiness family brings.

Our family holds an unbreakable tie no matter where we travel.

Our family shares a special bond that time can never unravel.

A Giant Upset

I love watching football. . . most especially my beloved Bulldogs, Aggies, and Cowboys. Only if they are not playing will I choose a side and it will invariably be that I root for the underdog.

On so many levels, the Super Bowl was a triumph of the underdog. The game was much more than it was touted to be. Few people gave the New York Giants a chance to win the game. They got in the playoffs by being a wild card team. In fact, I heard that the bets were overwhelmingly in favor of the Patriots. However, a Patriots win was not to be.

In my humble opinion, the New York Giants set a goal early in the year and proceeded to systematically and determinedly reach that goal. I really hated it when the Giants beat the Cowboys. I was upset, but I had to respect them for their efforts.

In the Super Bowl, it was obvious that the Giants defense had “done their homework” and play by play picked apart the Patriots offense. The Giants never gave up; never seem frustrated nor panicked. They just kept patiently playing the game forging forward to victory.

There were very few turnovers and penalties. They didn’t seem to be a big factor in the outcome. The big play was when Eli Manning escaped what seemed like a sure sack and sailed the ball to Tyree who used basketball-like finesse to snare and secure it. That play gave the Giants the momentum for the ensuing Manning-Burress touchdown.

I noticed that although they were elated, they still took nothing for granted. They knew the game was not over even with only half a minute left. I detected guarded optimism. The Patriots still had all of their timeouts left. The Giants just chipped away at the Patriots offense and made sure that they defended the guaranteed passes.

I really feel like the New York Giants had a bigger plan. They used their weapons to their advantage and never gave thought to anything less than winning. It would have been easy to become an “also ran”, but they kept their eyes on the prize and defeated the almost perfect Patriots.

Perhaps the Patriots rested on their laurels. I have no way of knowing. However, I do know this, I admire people who set goals and use the tools that they have to accomplish them picking apart their competitors (i.e. Bulldogs vs. Mart Panthers).

I will also add that even though the Patriots’ coach and quarterback were obviously very disappointed, they showed class and gave credit to the Giants because they were due the credit of defeating the previously undefeated Patriots. Instead of trash talking and placing blame, they congratulated the Giants. That tells a lot about their character.

Sometimes underdogs prevail which makes things seem balanced somehow. That is what competition is about and it is good.

Cindy

A couple of weeks ago, my daughter and I went over to Stephenville for her eye exam. While we were in Wal-Mart, I ran into a “girl” that I grew up with. I hadn’t seen her in several months so, of course, we spent time catching up.

Used to, we would see each other at least every Easter at church, if not more often. She hadn’t seen my daughter since she was small so that was a real treat for her. I’m not sure when the last time was that she saw my son, but he was probably younger than school age. I showed her pictures that I had in my wallet.

She caught me up on her family, too. She told me about her girls and what they were doing and where they were living. We discussed her great aunt who was over 100 and who had passed away a couple of years ago. We recounted our childhood days romping and playing and ruling the play area between our grandmothers’ houses.

Her sister had actually been closer to my age, but I always got along better with her than with her older sister. I think it was because she was so upbeat and she smiled a lot and was just a happy little girl.

Anyway, we had a few stories to relate to Brit so that she could get a sense of our relationship and our childhood.

Near the end of the conversation, she asked me if I was still teaching. I told her, “Lord, yes. I’ve been there 29 years.”

At that point, she asked me if I knew this “girl” named Cindy who lives in our community. I said, “Well, yes, I do. I teach with her and I’ve taught both of her boys.”

She said that her third daughter and Cindy’d oldest son were together and that she felt sorry for the baby because of both grandmother Cindys. I told her that I had probably seen her daughter several times, but that I never made the connection.

I remember her older two girls better because they were the ones I saw at Easter more often. But, I remembered her remarrying, having more children, and moving to Stephenville. Time passes so quickly that I never realized that they were not still the little girls in the frilly dresses I remembered from the Lamkin Methodist Church Easter Egg hunts.

For many years, Easter was the biggest treat because all of the little ladies of the church would get together and make this huge production of the Easter Sunday egg hunt and party. All the kids who grew up there came back and brought their children to bask in the attention slathered on by the little grandmothers and great aunts.

Cindy and her sister, Jeannie, would come down to Lamkin from Fort Worth every summer to visit their grandmother, Sadie, and Aunt Dixie. Sadie lived directly behind my grandmother on the next block. The area in between the two houses (and most of Lamkin, in fact) was our stomping grounds. We thought we “ruled the roost”, but actually, it was our grandmothers who did. We just got to shoo the other chicks out of the way.

Those are great memories. I have always just loved Cindy. She is a great person and I know that you are fortunate to have her as your grandchild’s “other Cindy.” I don’t even know her last name now. I just know that when I see her, it’s as if we’ve never really been apart, just catch up a little bit and move on.

I wanted to share this because it is a small world, after all.

How 'bout those Aggies?

Those Aggie basketball players whooped up on the t.u. guys last night. Way to go! Whoop! Thanks and Gig 'Em!

They won by 17 points over a very talented (albeit loathsome) team. At one point, the horns pulled to within 9, but they were never a serious threat. One of the horns was ejected from the game for a flagrant foul. Shame on him.

Dominique Kirk remains a formidable foe on the Aggie team. He is my son's friend. All I know is that he is really tall, but by comparison to the Aggie freshmen, he's not. I understand that two of the freshmen are 6' 11" and 7' tall. That means that they can't enter a normal size door without ducking their heads. I'll bet they are good rebounders as well as shooters.

People watching

I’ve encountered lots of people in my lifetime. Because I have had opportunities to mingle with many different types of people, I have become a people watcher (if you will).

Most of my acquaintances are casual ones. We exchange just the normal greetings and niceties as we pass the day.

However, some people with whom I’m associated have peaked my interest. I’ve categorized some of them into three sorts.

First, there are the waxers. The waxers are those whose behavior is much like that of a piece of wood heavily laden with thick wax. Things just sort of roll off of them. They are not disturbed by life’s problems. They go with the flow.

Next, come the wedgers. They are the people who like to drive wedges between other people (or sometimes between themselves and other people). For whatever reason, they want to keep others at bay. I suspect that perhaps the wedger is either of the controlling nature, a jealous-hearted person, or a vindictive individual. In any event, the wedger wants to keep people separate from one another.

Finally, there are the sealers. Those are the ones who want to bond people together in relationships. They become a friend and never let go. The sealers stick to others like glue, but with an important difference. Their relationships are impenetrable. They are loyal to the bitter end and overlook any imperfections.

Personally, I prefer the waxers and the sealers. They are much more fun to be around. The wedgers just cause distress to those around them.

Out of Kilter

The last couple of weeks have seemed out of kilter. The world is not in order. The natural progression of life is off. We don’t get to choose the chronology, God does. We have to wonder just how everything went awry. Faith will get us through and we will get straightened out soon, but in the meantime, it feels a little unsettling.

There have been too many deaths. I can hardly get over one loss and another one comes along.

I hope that life settles down soon into a calm, smooth pool with no ripples.

UFO Hunting

Years ago, my husband encountered an unknown flying object at our lease. For him, the experience was very real and somewhat disconcerting. Ever since, he’s been a believer. A couple of years ago, he and his best friend spotted a multi-colored, illuminated object darting and dancing across the sky near the local airport. I’m not sure if the object actually existed or whether it was the spirits he’d embibed that enabled the sighting. Nevertheless, he now thinks that he attracts UFOs.

News reports from the Stephenville Empire-Tribune (ET) to the Larry King Live show have carried the story of the January 8^th UFO sighting. Saturday, my husband suggested that we go to Stephenville, former cowboy capital and now the current alien capital of the world, to hunt the spaceship. Since my husband attracts UFOs, we were confident that we would find one.

From the news reports, we couldn’t discern which way the UFO approached Stephenville. We could only imagine, then, that it most likely came over our house first and then flew northwest to Stephenville. Sure enough, once we found more information, the sightings were at Selden which is between our place and Stephenville.

Upon arriving in Stephenville, we chuckled at the various business’ signs commenting on the sightings. One electronic sign depicted a space ship followed by the question, “Which way did they go???” Another displayed “Aliens welcome here.” Still others informed, “Space ship parking in rear” and “Aliens like tacos, too.” The light-hearted signage gave a nice comic relief from our steadfast pursuit.

A phone call from my best friend cautioned to not get too close when we saw the spaceship, because it most assuredly would beam my husband up. So, we decided to be very cautious as we started our quest.

At dark, we finished our shopping and proceeded to “hunt” hard core. Just as we were passing a convenience store, my husband spotted it. A bright light in the northeastern sky zipped across the skyline at just the speed suggested by the news reports.

We pulled into the parking lot and my husband got outside. He looked up into the sky and pointed at it to show me exactly where to aim my camera. Almost instantaneously the convenience store emptied to see what he was pointing at. Noticing the commotion, the cars whizzing by on the highway hit their brakes and their brake lights glowed like Christmas. They were unquestionably gazing at the same phenomenon.

Alas, the bright white light was nothing more than an airplane (most likely searching for the same UFO we sought). Everyone dispersed, but not before jokingly commenting that we would all keep an outlook toward the skies for the UFOs return.

Finally giving up the hardcore search, we decided to travel home on the back roads. With a clear sky, we thought that we might catch a glimpse of the UFO if it were to come back. But, it was not to be that night. Like true hunters, however, we will relentlessly continue our search for the trophy.

Moose Tale

When Brit and J. P. first started dating, he took us and Shanda on a tour of the big ranch house. In the lofty living room, a moose head watched the center of activity. He was quite large with a solemn face (the moose, that is.)

As we passed by, J. P. led the troop and he casually said, “See that old moose? I shot him down in the bottom last year.”

Shanda replied, “Really? That’s neat!” There was an awkward silence as she and Brit envisioned him bagging that moose.

Because I really didn’t know J. P. very well at all at that time, I hesitated, but I finally blurted out, “Shanda, he’s lying to you.”

She whipped around surprised at what she’d heard! Since she knew him much better than me, she couldn’t believe that I’d say something like that right there in front of him. She totally trusted J. P. You see, she had swallowed his story: hook, line, and sinker.

Youth! They’ll believe anything.

Another Infusion Day

If anyone had told me years ago that I would actually look forward to getting my veins punctured to put medicine in, I'd have probably said, "Not in this lifetime." However, times, they have changed. Not only do I look forward to it, I embrace it. The Remicade is like a lifeline.

I always feel so much better the days after my infusion because of the "liquid gold" that runs through my veins. At the end of the eight week cycle, I feel so lethargic in the few days just prior to the infusion that I can hardly make myself put one foot in front of the other.

Check with me tomorrow to see just how much better my outlook is. I'll bet that it will once again be great!

Aggie Graduate

Barring anything unforeseen, our son will be an honor graduate from Texas A & M on Friday, August 8^th. That’s only 3 years after starting! Whoop! And Gig ‘em!

While completing scholarship applications, he noticed that he could graduate in August. After he thought about it for a while, it made perfect sense. His apartment lease will be up in August. Since he works in the Student Business Services office (tuition payment department), he learned that A & M has instituted a new tuition program where the second summer session is half price. Couple both of those situations with the fact that A & M also implements its new differentiated tuition plan in the fall where both A & M engineering students and business students must pay $500.00 more for each course in their degree area, and his decision to graduate in August was a no-brainer.

He will get his Aggie ring the day before graduation. His ring-dunking will be that night. So mark your calendars for 08/08/08.

He plans to take a little time to study for the LSAT and then apply to Law School. Where he'll end up, no one knows.

Please keep him in your prayers as he makes the final push toward graduation.

A Good Man

My husband is a good man. He’s not perfect, but he’s still a keeper. I fell in love with him when we were teens and he’s still the love of my life (warts and all). The reason I chose to write my blog about him is to uplift and encourage him. His life has not been a walk in the park.

He has a tender heart and loads of compassion. He is the youngest (and a twin) of a very large family. Although the family lacked material goods, their parents made up for it by providing love and a strong faith-base. This influence made him a God-fearing man. He tithes devotedly. He was raised to aid his family and friends whenever and however he could. The entire family pitches in to help one another. Sometimes his faith has been sorely tested, but he continues to find strength through it.

Speaking of strength, he has always been strong as an ox. With his might, he could move virtually any obstacle.

When we first married, in order to get ahead, he would work two or three jobs. Besides working at the telephone company during the day, he would roof houses, remodel buildings, or work as a shade-tree mechanic at night and on weekends.

When we finally had an opportunity, he, along with his friends and family (and a few subcontractors), built our beautiful home. I think he probably handled every board in it. By doing much of the work himself, he saved us thousands of dollars in labor which, of course, made our equity in the house much larger.

Because of a back injury early in his lineman career, he began to experience severe back pain just after we completed the house. Within four years, the pain became unbearable. He just wouldn’t give in to it until one day, he couldn’t take a step without excruciating pain.

He went to an orthopedic doctor who recommended shots in his back and an exercise regimen. He followed it faithfully, but the pain did not subside. As time went on, he was referred to a neurosurgeon who recommended surgery on the lower lumbar region fusing three discs together and stabilizing it with steel rods and screws. Reluctantly, he finally agreed. He just couldn’t take the pain any more.

It took an entire year to recover from it. He had to wear a huge back brace for months. A TENS unit was never far from reach. During the surgery, a nerve that connects to his foot was damaged and his foot didn’t work like it was supposed to. It was essentially dead. He couldn’t lift it like he should so his gait was altered and he often stumbled. He had to do rehabilitative therapy for his foot as well as for his back.

When we consider that my husband had been such a strong man with a strong work ethic, we can only imagine how being so incapacitated dealt him a blow. Most of our family and friends pitched in with various acts of kindness and encouragement. His sisters and brothers’-in-law would visit with him during the recovery process. They would take him to his doctor’s appointments. One brother-in-law came and mowed our lawn every week with only a “Glad I could do it for you” after the job was done.

His doctor told him to walk as far as he could five days a week to build up his stamina. He also recommended exercises with a large body ball. As is his way to overdo, he walked up to six miles a day in nice weather.

The neurosurgeon was concerned about his regimen so he said that any activity that provided him with aerobic activity would be beneficial. He specifically mentioned dancing (not disco or break dancing, though.) He said that would be a fun way for him to exercise and get the same effect as walking.

About three years after his first surgery, he faced another surgery on his neck. This time, the surgeon had to enter the area through his neck and place rods and screws in his upper spine. Again, recovery took almost a year.

Between his surgeries, he returned the favor to his family and friends by visiting them and taking them to their doctors’ appointments. He spent up to three weeks with his brother-in-law while he was in the hospital following an accident. These are just a few of the examples of his kind-heartedness and devotion to his family and friends. They showed their appreciation by throwing him a party and giving him a “World’s Best Brother” marble plaque.

Of course, he and his family and true friends continue to reciprocate kindnesses. However, he was blind-sided by one egregious and bitter disappointment. He has had to come to grips with the loss of a disloyal friend who criticizes his disability.

In the beginning, he refused to believe that this man who had been such a close friend was reacting this way. He defended him to others. However, over a period of time, it became painfully obvious that the arrogant man denounced his condition. My husband could not help but personalize the experience. Not only did the man openly criticize him to our other friends for not being able to work any longer, but he disapproved of any leisure activities that were remotely enjoyable for my husband (including the doctor-prescribed dancing). It seemed as if he wanted to kick him while he was down so to speak. . .punish him, if you will, for becoming unable to stand the pain of his backbones rubbing against each other and the vertebrae being displaced.

I can only conclude that this fickle friend is no “friend” at all. At a time when my husband desperately needed to be uplifted and shown emotional support and loyalty, this petty person could only rebuke him. How could he be so self-centered and small-minded as to scorn his friend for a physical disability that he could not overcome? I never wish pain on anyone, but what if this man were to get hurt or otherwise suffer? How would he react if my husband reciprocated this treatment? I’d suspect that he’d be mighty upset and defensive.

My hope is that some day my husband can find it in his heart to forget about the intolerant man for his short-sightedness. I know that he will forgive him because he’s been taught to do that. Perhaps the cold-hearted man will eventually be freed from the bondage of ignorance. I’m certain that he will never approach my husband face-to-face nor apologize for treating him the way he has because 1.) his narcissistic beliefs won’t let him see how mistaken he is and 2.) he never apologizes even if he realizes he’s in the wrong. Let’s face it: his ego is a self-righteous little monster. So, perhaps irreconcilable differences will remain between the two.

But as a Christian man, my husband can rely back on his faith to help him recover both emotionally and physically. He will continue his efforts to improve his mobility and to withstand the pain of managing his disability and of the loss of a relationship. He now realizes that no one else thinks of and reacts to his impairment like his disloyal friend who’s the one with the problem. . . that of a neck that is flaming scarlet. Therefore, with encouragement, my husband must move forward with his own life and not lament either loss.

Slight Correction

Little Addison Ann has a mind of her own. She did not make her debut until after midnight so her actual birthday will go down in the record books as January 9, 2008.

I think she has a little of Shanda and Justin about her already. . . strong-willed.

Welcome, Addison! I love you, Aunt Bun.