Lest We Forget...

You might remember this post - the one where I told you about reading every name on the walls at the memorial near my home.

I asked you then - and I'm asking you now - read those names.  Find a place and read the names.  And remember.

Remember that our opinion of war is irrelevant, that what we believe about our president or the choices he has made don't really come into play when it comes to remembering.  Remembering what these people have done for us.  For me.  For you.  For this nation.

They have stood alone in the dark, facing those things that invoke nothing less than stark terror.  They have had to live with the blood of innocent people on their hands, on their hearts.  They have walked where few dare to imagine.

They have been strong.  Courageous.  They have been loyal.  They have been the epitome of what America is supposed to be. 

I cannot speak for those who have lost the ones they love the most.  It hasn't happened to me.  But I can remember them.  I can try to imagine their sadness, their devastation.

I cannot speak for those who wait each night for that letter, that note... the one that says "I am okay.  I love you."  I've never had to do that.  But I can remember them.  I can think about them when I'm awake in the early hours of the morning.

I cannot speak for those who have come home.  Those who remember faces that will never be seen again.  I don't know how it feels to be a soldier carrying a lifeless child.  I've never seen a battle.  But I have seen death, I have seen the loss of innocent life... I have even felt responsible.  So I can remember them.  When I am feeling guilty, or there is a face I can't get out of my head... I can remember them.

I cannot speak for those who have gone on.  I wish I could say with certainty that every one of them is in heaven now - a "better place."  I don't know that.  But I do know this... their sacrifice was ultimate.  There is nothing more they could have given.  We can give ourselves, but there is nothing more we can give.  I don't know what that is, not really.  But when I feel like I am just tired, like I don't want to give anymore... I can remember them.

Will you remember with me?  The old men in the coffee shop, wearing the VFW jackets... the homeless man standing on the street corner wearing the tatters of old fatigues or a uniform... the young man behind the counter at the bank... the police officer who seems just a little more alert than most... teachers, pastors, factory workers... people just like us.  Just like us.

Except today isn't about us.  It is about them.  I can remember.

Can you?

**Please note: photographs are exclusive property of Potter's Clay Studios and may not be used or reproduced without express written permission.**

RAW(e) Entry

This weeks theme is Little.  I have a million pictures of a special little someone, but unedited, and sort of randomly chosen, here is my entry for the week:

Kitten Update

I could go on and on about the kittens - how they are, how they've grown, how much healthier they are.  I think though, that I'll let pictures speak on my behalf.  The shots aren't great, I know, but... they'll show you the progress.  

"Yoku"
Kiryoku - Inner Strength
Day 3 - Age 16 Days



Yoku
Day 13 - Age 26 Days







"Tabi"
Tabibito - Voyager
Day 3 - Age 16 Days



Tabi
Day 13 - Age 26 Days



"Kohta"
Kohtamashii - Fire Spirit
Day 3 - Age 16 Days





Kohta
Day 13 - Age 26 Days



"Nari"
Kaminari - Thunder
Day 3 - Age 16 Days



Nari

Day 13 - Age 26 Days

Every Name.

There is something about me that most people don't know.  In fact, I don't think my own husband even knows.

Each time I drive to the City (which is almost daily), I pass a veterans memorial.  About once a week or so, I stop.  I get out of my car, and I go to the Walls.  I read the names. 

I don't know anybody else who does.  There's hundreds.  I know a lot of them - or of them.  Or know their children, or grandchildren.  Their names are inscribed there for a reason.  They gave of themselves - walked away from so much - carry burdens that cannot be lifted - many of them gave all.  All.  For you, for me... for their country.  There are so many walls like this - more all the time.  Black, marble walls with white names.

I can't read them all.  Can't remember them all.

But on these walls... on the walls I drive by, on the walls I see nearly every day... on these, I can read the names.

And I do.

I read every one.  Every one deserves to be read.  To be remembered.  There are six who I went to high school with, who have already reached their eternal destination... six names next to which I rest my hand, and sometimes get teary eyed. 

But I don't stop their... it's where I go first, but then I move forward.  I start at the beginning, and walk all the way around both walls.  I read every name.

There is something I'd like to ask you.  It doesn't matter if you support war, or this war, or your home country or your own government.  That's not what those walls are about.  They are about the people who believed so strongly in something that they were willing to sacrifice all... and who were willing to do what most of us never would dare.  Not just the heroics and the danger to self... but the taking of lives.  The destruction.  The devastation.  The nightmares that won't stop, seeing the young faces in crowds and thinking for just a moment, it's that one person... that one enemy soldier who turned out to be still a boy and not yet a man.  It is that, those things we abhor, those things we despise... they were willing to bear that burden for you.  Remember that.  Remember that they believed, that they stood for what they knew in their hearts.  Remember that they chose to make the greatest sacrifice they could... for people like you and me. 

Remember that.

And read every name.  Even if you do it just once... read every name.  Each has a story, a life, a family... and each deserves to be read.

Leg Update.

Have had a few people wondering how my leg is doing... so I thought I'd post an update.  I am 5.5 months post-op, and almost 33% of the way through the "active healing" phase.

The graft is doing well, after I split it open a while back.  Other than the scars from that, it looks pretty good.  It's turning colors, and is closer to the color of my regular skin.  There's something going on with one of the muscles in the front of my shin - it hasn't functioned since I bruised and split things. 

Yes, I bumped the contrast a little on this, so you could see the outlines of the muscles.  See that big gap in my shin?  That's not supposed to be there.

It's hard to sit idly by as adhesions form between the graft and the muscle facia, since I know eventually they'll tear free.  Surgeon sais absolutely no efforts are to be made to stretch or break them until after that 18 months, though, so... I watch.  The medial edge of the graft is adhered to my periosteum.  THAT part of it actually really hurts.  Very sensitive to the touch, very uncomfortable if it gets pulled on.

But over all, I am thrilled with how well it is doing.  It is healing, I have TWO functional legs, I am alive.

And as a friend said the other day... it's starting to look like a leg again.  :)

Kaiah.

Meet Kaiah.  She is about 4 months old, and is from the a previous litter by the mother of our current fosters.

I have to admit... she's stunning.  Her eyes seem to shoot sparks, and are the palest blue I believe I've ever seen.  She's marked mostly like a lopsided siamese, but does have the "eye-shadow" on one eye, and the tips of her ears are peach.  But more than her physical beauty, she possesses a zest for life that amazes me.  And I want her in the WORST way...

Unfortunately, Kaiah is too loved by her family - they won't let me steal her.  ;)

Have Kittens.

I know, I know, we're too busy to be fostering.  And yet... there are FOUR two week old kittens in our bedroom right now.  Two tiny bottles in our fridge.  And a container of Clavomox.  And we are remembering how much we love doing this.

First, I want to introduce Chaileh (HIGH-yeh) - the name is derived from the Hebrew word for "alive."  Chaileh did not survive.  Her mom had distemper while pregnant, and of the six kittens, three ended up with cerebral hypoplasia.  One died within the first week.  Chaileh did okay, and then we got called to go get her because she was fading fast.  We brought her home, filled her with fluids, put her on and under heat and she still shivered, and gave her as much antibiotic as her tiny body possibly could have handled... but it wasn't enough.  When it became clear she was dying, I did give her some pain medication so it didn't hurt.  THIS is why I don't hesitate to tell people - SPAY AND NEUTER YOUR PETS.

This is Kiryoku.  His name means "Inner Strength."  Of our four remaining kittens, he was in the worst shape when he arrived.  Very passive, very weak.  Didn't have any interest in eating.  Could barely lift his head.  No hair on his chest or throat.  But he's a whole other kitten after just 48 hours.  Still looks silly with the missing hair, but is doing well over all.  We call him Yoku.

This is Tabibito.  His name means "Voyager" and boy, he sure is.  He's into EVERYTHING.  Has to see, has to touch, has to smell, taste... If we thought we could possibly add a 5th cat to our own permanent menagerie, he would probably never leave our home.  BUT, we can't.

We call him Tabi (TAH-bee).

This is Kaminari.  His name means "Thunder."  In the picture, he looks a little big gray and not all that cute.  In reality, he is stunning.  Jet-black, gorgeous baby boy.  Although he did pee all over the bed tonight.  Not his fault - we didn't make sure his bladder was empty before we let him wander.  He's got spunk, and out of all of them, seems the healthiest.  He jumps - or tries, anyway.  He can barely walk, but he launches his tiny self into the air, and usually either gets hung up on whatever he's trying to jump over or falls on his face.  Doesn't bother him a bit.  He likes to put his front paws on faces and lick noses, and he sucks his thumb while he sleeps.  I have GOT to find a way to photograph that fact.

We call him Nari (NAH-ree).

This sweet little girl is Kohtamashii.  Her name means "Fire Spirit" or, as we in America would say, "spitfire."  She is, too.  She's very intense.  She also is the crankiest of all of them.  Sadly, she also has hypoplasia, but not to the degree the other two did.  She's just got some of the classic signs - the head wobble, a bit of muscle weakness, lack of coordnation, and her feet don't really do what she wants a lot of the time.  But she will be able to walk, maybe even manage a clumsy run.  She can never be an outside cat, so it's a good thing she's already got an inside home lined up.  We call her Kohta.

What We Remember.

In my shortage of words (yes, I actually do occasionally have a shortage of words), I have chosen a video.  I don't care if you watch it... but listen to it.  I don't have anything to say about war, or when it's right or wrong (or IF it's right or wrong).  All I can say is that I believe it is right to support those who are willing to sacrifice everything for something they believe is worth fighting for.

Sorry.

I apologize for asking for prayer and then disappearing.

Because of certain people reading this, I can't really say WHAT the mountain is yet.  But it's still there, looming up in front of us.  Big, scary, intimidating.  I know this is just a season... but it is a difficult and scary season, one filled with choices to make and things to do that are terrifying in so many ways.

We're okay though.  We will keep being okay.

We still love God.  Still serve Him.  And that's not going to change.

Soon, I'll be able to tell you about this mountain and to thank you for the prayers.

Meanwhile... I will try to come up with something to say here.  :)

Please Pray?

My husband if facing a giant and a mountain and something that would be very negative if it happens.  So if you could pray for him, please do so.  Pray for favor, wisdom, knowledge, provision... and for peace?

Thank you.

Repetition

They say that repetition is a great way to learn things.

I am trying to learn my beautiful nephew Israel.  So I have spent more hours staring at his face, feeling him breathing against my chest, breathing in his sweet baby smell. 

And of course, more pictures.  Mom says she's not ready to make me leave the camera in the car - yet.  :)

May God Reign

Israel... beautiful, amazing baby boy.  You came into this world the day before our anniversary.  I remember sitting in the waiting room, wishing the rest of your family would hurry up and see you and leave - I couldn't wait to meet you.

You were everything I had expected you to be - and yet nothing I expected could have been as amazing as you.  I expected you to be wonderfully, beautifully made - and you are.  I expected you to be strong - and you are.  I expected the new-baby smell, the tiny fists, the dark blue eyes.  I even expected you to steal a big part of my heart.

But I didn't expect you to look SO much like your daddy... and at the same time, make exactly the same faces your mom makes.  I didn't expect you to capture my attention so fully.  I didn't expect to lay awake half the night, smiling at the memory of the time I got to spend with you in my arms.  I didn't expect to love you so much it hurts (in a good way). 

I expected your daddy to love you, to be proud of you, to be protective.  But I never could have imagined the look he has on his face when he looks at you.  I haven't ever seen him like this.  He thinks you are the most amazing creation in the world, I think.  He talks about you, a lot.  He takes pictures, and shows them to us.  He will be there for you for the rest of his life, Israel.  He loves you with the intensity and passion of your God.  He would lay down his life for you - of that, I have no doubt.

I expected your mommy to love you, too.  I expected her to be happy, to be relieved, to be proud.  And she is all of those things.  But Israel, if I could freeze her face, her voice, her eyes for you, I would.  Then, when you are older and it's harder to see things like a mother's love, you would have a reminder.  She holds you tight and close, like you are the most precious thing ever to exist... and she stares at you with a look of pure love, amazement, and joy.  Sweet child, you have made her happier than I have ever seen her. 

I also expected that your mommy and daddy would let Tio and I hold you... and love you... eventually.  I didn't expect the trust, the love, the way they let me feel your heart beating against my chest and breathe in your new baby smell.  Well, I did expect those things.  But I didn't expect to have the honor of doing it so much. 

I didn't expect that you would melt my heart the way you do.  I expected to feel this way when I have children of my own... but for you?  It wasn't something I thought could happen, and yet it has.  I would give everything I have, including my life, for you.

Tio got to really hold you yesterday, got to stare into your eyes and listen to your noises.  And it's happened to him, too.  As much as your parents want us to, and as much as we can, we want you to be part of our lives.  Your in our hearts, our prayers... on our minds.

We love you.

Your name, Israel, means "May God Reign."  And I pray that He does in your life, always.  Your mom and dad will raise you to love and serve Him.  Listen to them closely... and follow Him with all of your strength.  When you lay down at night, remember that He is with you, He keeps you safe and gives you peace.  When you're facing giants, remember that you do not stand alone.  If you will let Him, He will win those battles for you.  I pray that your faith would be strong, unwavering... child-like even when you grow old.  Search His Word every day, sweet boy.  It will help you to become the man you were created to be.  It will answer your hardest questions, comfort you when your heart is broken, and it will give you hope when all around seems wrong.  Let Him reign in you, Israel.  Honor your mom and your dad.  While you are still a child, obey them - not because they are right, but because obedience is right.  They are Godly people - our brother, our sister - and they will do everything they can to teach you the important things in life.

And so will we.  To whatever extent possible, in whatever ways we can, and regardless of the cost, we will support them as they raise you.  We will pray.  We will love.  We will laugh and cry with you, with them. 

And of course, we will probably take thousands of pictures of you.  Before you even turn one.  If your parents to make us start leaving our cameras in the car. 

Today, you are three weeks old.  I am not sure how that happened so quickly.  Yesterday, I drove you and your mom to the airport so you could say goodbye to Abuela.  She doesn't cry, Israel.  At least not when she's getting on a plane to go home to Rodrigo and Abuelo.  But when she held you, and they announced that it was time for people on her flight to be processed through security... she cried.  Big, shining tears.  She looked so torn, so heartbroken, that it made me almost cry. 

All of that, to say this:

Let God reign in your life.  Honor and obey your mom and dad.  Never stray from the Word of God.  I pray you come to a saving relationship with Christ early in your life, and never walk away from it.  And while you're here... you are loved.  You are cherished.  You are amazingly, wonderfully, beautifully made.  You are wanted.  You are safe and sound.

And I for one count it an unspeakable honor to be granted the title of Tia.  And I love you, Israel James.  Happy 3 week birthday.

I Might Be In Love...

with this perfect little boy...

His parents let us call him our nephew.  When I hold him in my arms, his warmth, his softness, his perfectly formed face and super-fine hair, the way he smells, the way he puckers his face just like his mommy and the way his features are shaped just like his daddy... the feel of his heart beating against my chest, his breath rising and falling against me... I am in heaven.  Or as close as it comes this side of earth.  Little Israel James... Tia and Tio love you so very, very much.

In Rememberance of 9-11

I don't have a lot of words right now.

But I found this song.  And I am posting it in place of words of my own.

Das Boot.

This is a leg update, just in case you want to quit reading now. 

It's been REALLY sore the last week or so - I think from nerves regenerating.  Or something.  I've been getting some spots of superficial sensation back, but the spatial awareness isn't there at all yet.  Tibial plateau is still very sore and bruises randomly (and often), but I haven't had a fever in over a month.  I've been working out and for the most part, tolerating it pretty well.  By working out I mean doing Martial Arts and pushing as I do.  But over all, in spite of the soreness, I feel like it's been doing really well.

Today, I put some things into a cave for a friend.  Heavy things.  That I was dragging in a big blue toy bucket with one hand, while I used the other hand to hold a rope and walk backwards down a VERY muddy incline.  A very steep, very muddy incline.  And then I climbed up for a second load.  And then climbed up to untie a rope to use down in the cave.  And then climbed out again.  And then built a fire (I'm an excellent fire builder).  At some point, either in dealing with the cave or in breaking up wood for the fire, there was an impact to the back edge of my graft.  It didn't hurt - I never felt it happen.  But now there's a nasty bruise underneath the graft, the muscle compartment is rock-hard, and the skin graft is split in a few places.

SO... I'll be backing off on the physical exercise for a week or two, and wearing BOOT again until the swelling goes down and the muscle softens back up.  It's frustrating, but... it will be okay.

**I am editing this to add a picture?  Why?  Because you guys asked for it.  I'll leave it small for those of you who might be a bit... squeamish.  But this is what it looks like if you happen to have a skin graft wrapped halfway around your leg, and you subsequently happen to bang it into... something.

Prayer Request Update

Specifically... pray for wisdom, for favor, and for hardened hearts to be softened?

Sunrise.

So this thing which I requested prayer for kept me up all night.

There i s a bonus to staying up all night.  You get to see the sunrise.  I was obvlivious initially, but looked out the window and there was light.

Hope you enjoy... I know I did.

Captivating.

That is the word I would choose to describe Abi.  Her strength, her character, her integrity, contagious joy, generosity, her compassion, devotion, and sold-out passion for her God... they go together, and are captivating.

Spent Thursday and Friday enjoying the wedding of one of my favorite people.  Love each other well and without reservation.  Congratulations, Abi and Caleb.

Stream of Conciousness (Or Something)

If I wasn't typing this on my phone, I'd show you a picture of the couple today and tomorrow is all about.

But I am.

Anyway... out of town, in a whole other state - one filled with corn - doing photography for a wedding. she (the bride) and her family mean a lot to me, and to be able to do this is an amazing privilege.

We saw a big, VERY green bus today. It said "Bowling Bus" on the side. My husband's navigation system on his phone told him to turn off the highway and into the middle of a cornfield. Or so he says.

When we left the City early this afternoon, my husband turned on his navigation program. He said, "Wow! It's THREE HOURS away from here?"
"Yes, it is."
"I didn't know that."
"But you looked at the map. You left Mapquest up on your computer. I saw it."
"Well, yeah, but I didn't realize how FAR it really was."
"Ok... so... did you just think that the middle of [the state next to us] had recently moved closer to us?"
He laughed. Hard.

I get to take most of my shots from the platform in front of the sanctuary tomorrow. Not feeling nervous or conspicuous at all... nope. Not me. Or maybe I am...

I also get to spend the entire day with the women in the wedding. Which I am for real looking forward to.

I decided 24 hours was close enough to the end of the no caffiene restriction the surgeon had ordered. My bladder feels like it's going to explode. I think she should have said no caffiene for at least THREE weeks.

How hard (or easy) is it to get addicted to vicodin?

I am running out of things to say.

Piccolo... nice one.

Not so very long ago, I told my dad I wanted an ebony piccolo.  I have a standard marching piccolo, which I love playing,  And yes, I know it's weird to love playing piccolo,  Alone.  But that's not the point.  The point is...

This shows the uncoventional holes and keys, creating the need to learn new fingerings.  Which I cannot find ANYWHERE.

Isn't it pretty?  Straight out of the new camera, no editing at all. 

As I said, it does not have conventional modern keys.  But it has an amazing, rich tone.... if only I knew how to play the notes.