Anatomy

I barely mentioned my classes. I love them. Yes, they are hard, and its difficult, but its fun. I really like learning about the world and having a new angle on life. I'm making new friends can't be all bad, right?

Taking science classes is so cool. I keep thinking, wow, God did this. For every level that we dig into chemistry or anatomy it gets more and more complicated and intricate. And I keep thinking that this is not random, someone really smart had to put all this together.

As we are looking at each system of the body, all the different layers working together and interacting in just the right way is amazing. Sometimes we will look at something, break it apart, slowly digest how it's working. And then the teacher will say, but remember this isn't just working in isolation - not this one reaction is happening. For example, the neurons have to have so much stimulation to create an action potential to converse with the other neurons via neurotransmitters. We will look at just one way they do this, and it takes like an hour to explain it all out. But then we think about how it really functions, millions of these reactions happen at the blink of an eye. That's just astonishing!

Don't get me wrong. I've always thought the human body was amazing and intricate. And I know that God created something very special. And I knew it was amazing. But to start to quantify how amazing is mind boggling. Almost akin to looking up into the small portion of the milky way and thinking about how big the universe is. Phenomenal.

And then there's chemistry. In high school, I was really bad at chemistry. I don't know why, but I just didn't get it at all. I wanted to, but I just don't think that it liked me. Or maybe I was distracted.

Anyway, I really didn't know what to expect for this time around in chemistry. Its not easy, but I seem to be understanding it better this time. As applicable as chemistry can be to everyday life, what we are doing seems so far removed. But in anatomy we are actually using a lot of chemistry to describe what happens in our bodies. So I think that's helping. That and being around other people that aren't under the age of 12 is definitely a good thing :)

And I'm now certified to do CPR. There is the potential that I can maybe help save someone's life! Isn't that cool?

So that's school in a nutshell. I can't wait until I get to actually start nursing classes, but that won't be until next fall, so I'll try to keep my excitement in check.

Thoughts on Time Travel

This morning after church my older daughter handed me a little box of raisins.

“Thanks. Where'd you get these?”

She's been in a rather verbose mood today—even more so than usual. So I waited while she explained that everyone got a box of raisins in junior church today—well, not everybody, because some of the kids didn't want them and so they said no thank you so the teachers didn't give them any. But everybody else got raisins. EXCEPT the teachers didn't give themselves any so everybody got raisins except the teachers and the kids who said no thank you. Except she didn't say no thank you even though she doesn't like raisins because she knew I liked raisins so she went ahead and took the raisins—and said thank you—she remembered to say thank you—because she knew I would like the raisins. No, she didn't say thank you because she knew I'd like the raisins. She accepted them because she knew I'd like the raisins. She just said thank you to be polite. So, here, Mommy, are some raisins.

So I said thank you and tucked away the raisins.

“Just don't eat the ones that I already chewed.”

What!?

“Well, I just wanted to try them, because you never know when your taste buds are going to grow, and I've been in a growth spurt, so my taste buds might have changed.”

A gentleman standing nearby was snickering.

“You....” I shook my head. She'd tried a couple, hadn't liked them, so she'd put them back in the box.

“Well, you could wait eight hours for the germs to die off the ones I chewed, then you could eat them. That way you won't be wasting them. Or......you could just throw them away.”

By this time the gentleman was almost doubled over laughing.

So I handed her the box and explained that some lines I just wouldn't cross, and asked her to please pick out the ones she'd chewed and eat them or dispose of them herself, which she did.

The gentleman, wiping tears, thanked us for the much needed laugh and then he was out the door.

The whole dialog is fairly typical of what goes on between this child and me. Chances are it would pass into the mass of moments you forget—but for the guy who needed a good laugh. He'll remember this one.

* * *

When I was in Bible college one of my most memorable experiences was writing a paper for some theology class on Time and Eternity. I was arguing that if you carefully defined eternity you could reconcile man's free will with God's predestination. If you ever want to hear how I got there send me a private message and I'd be glad to bore you with the details. But in the course of writing this paper I knew I needed a substantive way to wrestle with the concepts swirling around in my mind. So I talked a friend into dialogging with me. We'd come home from school, I'd run up to her apartment (we both had apartments in an old, seedy hotel), maybe she'd come down to mine, and we'd talk for hours about time, how it works, what eternity is, how it works, what it would be like to live without time, all the stuff that makes a good time-warp in a Star Trek episode.

One idea that never found a place in the paper has stuck with me all these years. I think time runs backwards.

* * *

We move forward in the time line, passing from event to event, past, present, then future. We don't think about it, of course. Today slips into tonight, we sleep, wake up to a tomorrow that's now the new today, remembering the past, anticipating the future, but generally just living in time the way we live in air. We don't think about it. It's just there and it's just necessary.

As a kid—a young teen—one big highlight of the year was the regional fair in Knoxville, Tennessee. All my friends looked forward to it. We saved our money and were given tickets for the rides. These were not just typical carnival rides, either. These were the real thing, rides like the big amusement parks have. They had this roller coaster—I think it was called the Galaxy. That thing was awesome—till I rode the Wabash Cannonball in Nashville. But at the time the Galaxy was the biggest thing I'd ever been on, and between that and the loud music and the junk food and running around with your friends, it was definitely an event that was tough to wait for. It would get closer and closer, then it would be almost upon us, then we'd be on the road, then we were caught up in the experience, riding the rides, eating the food—riding more rides and feeling a little sick, eating to feel better then riding more rides—and then it was over.

* * *

So we move forward in the time line, but what about the events? They get their start in the future. We're separated from them by months, a seeming eternity. Then they're close—so close you think you can't bear it—then they're here. We reach out and grasp them, pull them into our past, and then they're behind us—forever a memory. Like two teams passing, shaking hands after a well-fought game, we reach out and grasp a seemingly endless line of events, acknowledging them before we reach out to grasp the next one. Moving always forward as the events we reach for move in the opposite direction—backward.

Less than a month ago my husband, a runner, elected to go to a heart specialist to see if they could do something about these palpitations he sometimes gets when he's out running. They ran him through all these tests, put a 24 hour monitor on him, and then the doctor called and asked him to come in for an office visit so he could show him the results.

Well, that was irritating. This specialist is a two hour drive away, and couldn't he just explain things over the phone? Nonetheless he went in to “discuss” things with the physician.

That day I got a call at school from Roger. He seemed shaken. Said we needed to make arrangements for the kids for a couple of days, because I'd be driving him to the hospital in the morning—to get a pacemaker put in. It all happened fast. The next day I found myself sitting in a cardiac surgery waiting room while Roger had a one-hour simple procedure done. Only as the time slipped by, and the second hour was almost over, I suddenly looked around me and grasped the moment. Here I was alone in this waiting room, no idea why things were taking so long, and why hadn't I thought to bring a friend?

I got up and walked around a bit, found a computer station with internet access, and tried logging on and updating friends. The browser was ancient, but it managed to bring up a favorite message board and I typed an update in the prayer forum. I went and sat down, feeling a bit less alone.

You know, I hadn't seen this one coming. With all the things I look forward to—and the things I dread—sitting in the waiting room while my forty-something-ish husband had a pacemaker put in was not on the list of upcoming events. Yet there he was, groggily enduring, numb but aware that a surgeon who was used to older, softer bodies was even now struggling to push a pacemaker behind his well-built chest muscle.

Things have settled into a new normal now. He's always been so approachable that people are just physical with him. Pounding him on the shoulder, throwing playful punches—he's pretty relaxed and fun to be around. But now he has to be on his guard. There's a spot under his shoulder blade that can't be punched, playfully or not. There's a device there; a device that means he can't fix the car anymore, or use cordless power tools. No more arc welding—well, that, at least, was never an issue. He can't go through electronic security checks at the airport. He'll have to endure hand searches. You know those automatic doors at stores? He has to walk quickly through them. Always aware. Always on guard.

But even with all that, it's better than not having the pacemaker. You see, his tests showed that his heart was stopping at night. Sometimes for as long as ten seconds. Just for fun, stop right now and watch a clock as ten seconds go by. Chilling, huh?

So in God's grace, the problem was found and corrected. So even though we had this unexpected thing come at us—and even though it was not an easy thing—God's grace has seen to it that a worse unexpected event never grasped me by the hand and pulled me into the future. Chances are better now that the kids will grow up with a father, that I'll wake up each morning and my husband will still be there.

So I see time as a two-way road. We travel time in one direction while our events come at us from the other direction. We can reach out and grasp them as they go by or we can take them for granted. I'm a grasper. That's why I like to take pictures and record my music. The moment will always, in a sense, be with me.

We can choose, of course, to ignore the event that's here now while looking ahead to some future thing we don't really have yet. Or we can mull over some past thing that has no right to ruin our present, but could if we let it.

I choose to reach out and grasp the moment. Speaking of which, there's a beautiful fall day outside, I have a camera, and I've been sitting at this keyboard a bit too long...........

perspective

Its been a few weeks. Not much has been going on. It seems like classes are starting to blend seamlessly with the rest of my life. The boys are adjusting well. I'm adjusting well and love learning all kinds of new things. Good times :)

----

I've never been to hung up on being in the 'in crowd' or not being there. Needless to say since it wasn't important, I was *so* not 'in'. Therefore its never been a concern of mine whether my boys were 'in' or not. After all they are boys and boys seem to be just not concerned about that sort of thing.

Enter the Birthday. We had the birthday party for B last Saturday. B'day parties aren't high on my priority list, but I try to make the day special for the boys. And we celebrate every passing year, in a special way. Some years I'll wake them up extra early and 'make' them eat cake for breakfast. One year we took B to Chicago for the day. Sometimes we will do the party thing.

B has always wanted a mini golf birthday party, but because his b-day is in mid October and we live in the midwest that has never been possible. Too cold and the mini golf place closes at the end of September. Well after much nagging this year, we booked the last available day to have the party, Oct. 4th. I figure, its just to celebrate the passing of time, it doesn't have to be on the day, we will do it.

So we go and invite all the kids that B is friends with. Being that we homeschool - there weren't very many to begin with and then there was a make up football game for 1/2 of them that had been rescheduled to the day. Well, there were just a handful that were able to be at the party. I was dissappointed, but oh well, its just a day and a time for fun for B and whoever can join him.

Like I said - I'm not concerned. Day of the party, we head over to the mini golf place. There was a party ahead of us. Again not a big deal. Until... a kid from the other party came up to B. It was someone he knew from one of the many activities the kids is in. He asked why B was there. B explains and the kids like where are all your friends? Its your party right?

At that moment it dawned on me. The party before ours was for a kid about the same age as B - it was one of those huge knock down drag out blasts of a party that all the kids are wanting to go to because 'everyone' is going. Like think 50 of your best-est friends in the world. (insert eye roll) Ok, then here's B's group, a mixed sort of group, 5 really tight friends, boys his age or younger or older, a girl, and J. Oh and then various older family members that wanted to see the birthday boy.

So there it was... A twinge of jealousy. I think my eye twitched as this boy from the other party asked again, so where are they? I don't remember how B handled it, I'm sure he did fine - despite a rough early start at socialism, his social skills are excellent for his age. Usually just the right mix of humor and a sparkling of wit and sarcasm for tough situations.

And for a few moments I watched the 'in' crowd. I was curious for a bit, what do 'in' people do? I lived vicariously through them, just for a bit. Then I looked back at my boy at his 11th b'day party. His friends were laughing and joking. Mutual acceptance. Everyone was comfortable with each other and with the adults. Relaxed fun. I glanced back at the 'in' crowd. Everyone is glancing at each other. Checking to make sure they were 'ok'. Making sure that that their presents or jokes where the best. Fun, but not quite so relaxed. Actually, if there was a 'how to be the best party attendee' award, a few of these kids would have been winners.

Jealousy cured. I love being ourselves. Take us or leave us just as we are. We aren't popular or perfect, but at least we know that we are liked.