Snippets

The last time that Ann was here with the kids, Penelope did something that just cracked us all up. But after about the third time that she did it Beth looked at me and said there’s probably a sermon there. I guess she knows how I think.

Beth has one of those picture phones and the picture that’s always on it is a picture of Penelope. Beth asked her who that was a picture of and Penelope said, “You.” For the longest time when you asked who was in picture Penelope would identify everyone and when the person pointed to Penelope in the photo she would say that it was “baby.” And we would always respond, “No, that’s you.” So now she identifies herself as “you.”

Isn’t that interesting? Some people can’t look in the mirror without seeing someone else. It’s always someone else’s voice speaking in their head. They have no sense of self whatsoever. Others, clear on who they are, can look in the mirrors and while seeing themselves think only of others. They aren’t lost, but they know that their completeness is build by their connections to others.

Who do you see when you look in the mirror?
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It’s been quiet here this week. Beth went to visit at Ann’s—so my grandsweeties are together there and I’m here (insert big sigh). I guess if I get really honest it’s been a nice little break and I’m sure it will make me all that much more happy to be with them when they get home tomorrow. And then it’s my night. I take care of the baby on Friday nights so Beth can sleep.

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Tomorrow Nelson has an appointment with the doctor. We’re a bit anxious about what the outcome will be. We imagine one of three things will happen. For two weeks his physical therapist has basically told him that therapy isn’t helping. So we’re imagining that the doc will say one of a couple things: first, he could say that Nelson needs more surgery or he could say that this is as good as it gets. The latter is concerning because Nelson still can’t put weight on the ankle and needs either the crutch or walker to get around. The implications that this holds regarding his inability to work are mind boggling to us. What will life look like? The former doesn’t appeal to Nelson either. Sure, having surgery might (heavy on possibility) make things better, but he’s just so tired of hurting—and I’m tired of watching him hurt.

Work is going. I’m getting it better and getting along better. I’m able to step back a little and D handle more of the packaging responsibilities. That’s good because the work load is increasing in my new area. Sometimes my head feels like it’s going to pop trying to keep things straight in both areas. I’ve made several mistakes, but caught them all before they left the area. I just have to cut them down and then out all together. There’s still just so very much to learn.

And now I’m going to watch Dr. Phil and then make supper. Until later.