We all need a savior - every day...

Imagine our delight when we arrived at church and turned to see mom and dad walking in behind us! The surgery went well - dad's heart rate went from an average of 30-35 to 70 within an hour of the pace maker's insertion. And he felt well enough to join us for lunch after church! Well at the hospital I learned that I had misunderstood part of the conversation with mom about his esophagus situation. The doctor's appointment in the beginning of December will be with the man here in NWA who suggested the St. Louis trip - the the at the clinic in MO. It remains to be seen how dad will decide to deal with the encroaching Barret's Disease.

I was reading a book this morning called Sacred Parenting. In speaking of parental guilt - and especially mommy guilt, the author makes the point that as we realize our shortcomings as parents it provides an opportunity of either a parking lot or a carwash. If we camp out in the guilt, berating ourselves for not spending enough time listening to the kids, or vegging out w/tv or whatever the case may be, and continue to stay in that place, its like driving our car into a parking lot and just sitting there. But if we bring our failings before the Lord, confess, ask for his strength in the midst of our weakness and then live in that strength, its like driving through a spiritual carwash.

And, we model for the kids that we all need a savior, every day. Oh how true.

Overwhelmed by life and love...

On Friday night I drove down to Alma (about an hour away) with Sami and friends to meet Chris at Paul's football game and watch Sydney cheer. When I arrived in the stadium I scanned the crowd for Chris's familiar face. Finally I caught sight of his arms waving wildly in the air - right at the 50 yard line, as always. I began to climb the stairs towards him and glanced around to see who we'd be sitting near. My eyes filled with tears when I saw the older couple holding hands at his side; the bald guy with his little french looking tweed cap, and the sweet lady with the curly hair weren't due in till tomorrow. In fact, right before I left home, I had spoken to my dad about their ETA... I scrambled up the last few steps, barely hearing the friend sitting a couple of rows forward teasingly scold me, "Don't cry, I'll cry too!" Soon my arms were around my dad's neck - "Hello, Rufus" he growled. Then it was mom's turn. And the floodgates opened. I just really about sobbed in her arms. I pulled away, and tried to pull myself together. And I wondered about the tears. While I tend to cry more easily in the past few years of my life, I hadn't ever responded to seeing my folks in that way.

Perhaps it was partly the stress of my new life. Taking on teaching, counseling, and running an office without giving up any of the full-time mom stuff has been a balancing act. Maybe it was on account of the growing pains involved in launching kids that stay at home. Conceivably, it was about the fact that the last time I saw them they had interrupted their vacation in order to come back for medical tests. And quite possibly, I fell apart when I saw my mom and dad because they've always been my secure base. The love those two share is incredible. They've literally travelled the world together. They've known poverty, hardship, loss, riches, sickness, health, and most critically, they've known the Lord. The relationship my parents share with God - individually and together - is as natural as breathing in and breathing out. It's just part of them. And when I'm with them, it's part of me too. And so I wept - it was a catharsis I didn't even know I needed.

Autumn in Arkansas is absolutely awesome. And this past weekend, the leaves were at their peak. So we all enjoyed our time together with mom and dad in the motor home parked in our driveway. They even ended up staying over Monday night so they could watch Paul play starting quarterback in his last ever JV game. He scored a touchdown, threw about a 40 yard pass for another, and almost made an interception when he played defense. Brother Paul and Laurie and the nieces came too, and Molly and Sydney. We had a great night. Mom had baked an apple pie and had us for dinner at her place (in our driveway) - what a treat. Somehow, our time with them was especially enjoyed by all of us.

Tuesday morning found them up and ready to go for Dad's first doctor appointment of the week. There they were told that the pace-maker he obviously needed would be priority. In fact, it turned out that the cardiologist had an opening tomorrow morning (Thursday) at 9:00, and they wanted him at the hospital by 8:00am! Today they saw a different doctor, this one the same who had ordered them to interrupt their vacation so he could run further tests on some suspicious cells in dad's esophagus. It turns out that while no cancer came back in the four biopsies, there have been rapid changes in cells during the past few months. So rapid, in fact, that the doctor recommended three options: keep taking the same meds and check back for another biopsy in three months; travel to St. Louis for a procedure to either freeze or burn the entire esophagus (therefore destroying the troublesome cells); or undergo a major surgery to remove the esophagus entirely and pull the stomach up towards the throat so that food dumps directly into it. "If it was my dad," he said, "I'd be taking him to St. Louis." So - they made an appointment there for a month from today.

I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed. And I think probably mom is too. While I'm supposed to wear my professor hat tomorrow, I was able to contact someone who was willing to teach for me. I'll join mom at the hospital for the surgery. She had plans to get her haircut at 3:00. And dad is insisting she keep her appointment. So she's planning to go on home from there - since they live about 45 minutes from the hospital and her salon is close to the house. Brother George will be there with us. Paul will come in after work, and Chris will stop by on his way home. We're hoping Molly may be available to drive up and stay the night at mom's place so she doesn't have to be alone in that big house on the hill. "Its a routine surgery", I keep telling myself. But it's never been part of our routine. So I'm overwhelmed.

But, my daughters and I love to remind each other about the promise in Jeremiah 29:11 -
"I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future". So I'll lean into that and trust that life and love will go on and grow stronger at every opportunity. God is good... all the time.

Election

This morning talking with the kids we realized that on the next election day there will be six Abbeys voting. This day, there are four of us. Regardless of the outcome, our hearts are grateful to be living in the land of the free and the home of the brave.

New to This...

After poking around on the blog spots of several friends with small children and new babies, I've become addicted to this idea of chronicling the life and times of the ordinary days that make up our extraordinary lives. Of course, the big difference between me and say Katie, or Melissa, or even the amazing mama Christine Matchell is that my "babies" are all teenagers - "The Fab 5".

Yup, 13, 15, 17 (next week), 18, and 19. And, for the record, at this point, they all live at home. Often its a beautiful chaos around here. I never know for sure if I'll have four or twelve for dinner (usually its somewhere between 6 and 10). You know how as a new mom you start to feel like you're in a concentration camp where they are trying to break you with sleep deprivation? Well, for some reason, teenagers, too like to keep unmentionable hours. And the truth of it is, most often the most important conversations happen after midnight. So, I'm learning how to stay awake past my traditional 9pm bedtime. And I'm learning to practice the art of listening in expectancy rather than with expectations. And life is delightful. And complicated. And full of joy and sorrow and some regrets and some absolutes.

That's all for now.