I've Found a Long Lost Friend

Rita and Rachel, March 1987, Beta Gamma Sorority-"Cup Cotillion Ball"

I searched long. I prayed oft. I wondered many times what happened to my dear old friend Rachel.

We were best of friends in High School. We were co-Feature Editors for our high school newspaper, the Palmetto Leaf. We were twins in mind, spirit, and even looks. She was more petite and prettier than me, but if I had a dime for every time someone called me "Rachel" and someone called her "Rita", we'd both have a nice little lump of shopping money right now. We shared ideals, goals, music, you name it. We shared mutual friends, like Sherrie. Our circle was small, but it was the making of a happy little group. Then she moved away.

I still had Sherrie, but our wonderful threesome of carefree souls was broken up, and in my heart, I never lost track of her. I could never find her on the map, but in my heart, I always wondered where she might be or what life had brought her way.

Many times, I would do free people searches. I managed to find out that at one point she was living within 100 miles of me. I nearly had a heart attack I was so excited. I wanted to dig and dig, but I didn't know how without going through those really questionable sources. You know, the companies that make you feel like a dirt bag for "investigating" your friend. Sheesh....these shady places offer info on social security numbers, traffic violations, divorces....basically, a rap sheet of sorts. No thanks. I just wanted to know where in the world my friend was, and if there was any chance we could still be friends.

I had become a Christian in 1990, and one of the first people I thought of was Rachel. But I didn't know where to find her. I so longed to tell her of what had happened in my heart, but all my searching came up empty. Until recently.

Being a 1988 graduate, 2008 marked my 20 year high school reunion. Thankfully, someone in my graduating class was resourceful enough to start a web page where all the alumni could share personal info. This allowed all of us graduates to set up profiles, so we could catch everyone up on their lives. I was excited about this website because I thought to myself, "Maybe Rachel will have a profile...just maybe..."

To my great delite, she had a profile. I cried tears of joy as I read her first email to me. We have since exchanged many emails and many pictures of our families. I can't believe we have finally reconnected, but we have. And through all of our conversations, I have found that we share the same God, the same love of our family, and the same love of writing. She is the very inspiration for me starting my blog.

Through the years, I have come to a greater understanding that friendship is not just who you run to Wal-Mart with; it is longevity. I'm so grateful to God for bringing my friendship with Rachel back to full circle. We don't get to chat every day. We don't even email as much as we did when we first found each other. But I know if I need her she will be there. And I believe in my heart, she always was. And no matter where your friends are on the map, in your heart, you are always there for them.

Unfortunately, neither one of us got to make it to the reunion. I wish I could have seen her and reminisced in person. But now that we are in touch, we can take our time. She has helped us with craft ideas, and my daughter interviewed her for a history project. We're both just living our lives and staying busy. (She's an amazing woman!) But at least we have a little part of each other now.

News Flash: Right Foot Now in Protective Custody!

It could be worse. Really it could. I could be strictly off of my feet for 12 weeks. But I am ever so fortunate, and I do not say that lightly, to have a reduced sentence.

I'm having the dreaded ankle surgery. Lateral Ligament Reconstruction with Arthroscopy to be exact. And you know what? It ain't so bad.

Don't get me wrong. I came through a whole lot of dread, tears, and prayers to be able to even peck that four word sentence. When I found out on Wednesday that the MRI results weren't, shall we say in my favor, I cried all afternoon. I'm not talking about a dainty weeping that a single kleenex could handle. I'm talking about a lock yourself in the bedroom, lay across the bed, ask God why, bury your face in the pillow, ask God for Grace, deep moaning, ask God why again, fingers locked in your hair, who-cares-about-your-makeup-red splotchy- faced cry. I was in bad, bad shape. If any of you have ever thought I am given to exaggeration, had you seen me that day, you would call the above an understatement.

For a moment, I thought, "Goodness, Rita! Get yourself together!" Then I immediately resolved, "No. This is exactly what I need to do. Get it all out!!" It was a catharsis, one that was much needed. I had built up so much anxiety about the pending surgery.

Can any of you understand what I mean? So much changes with surgery. First of all, there is always, always, always, a financial burden. Even when the insurance is paying at 100% (Praise God), there are always other expenses. Guess what? When Kevin shops, it cost more! When the kids are on auto pilot for breakfast and lunch, the kind of stuff they need to eat cost more. I wish I could submit a claim form for these things, but BC BS would laugh me out of Georgia. As a believer, I know God meets my needs, but I want to be transparent here. I'm a wife and a worrier. And I feel like my lousy health is always costing us money.

Other things that change with surgery are homeschooling, church, housecleaning, bill paying, driving....you get the picture. How many of you mothers can afford (not just monetarily) to be out of commission? Can I get a witness?? You know the old saying...A man works from sun to sun, but a woman's work is never done! So, you can see why I need the nervous break down, I mean the good cry?!?!?!?

When my appointment rolled around Friday, I had resolved in my heart that I was going to be a soldier brave and true and face this battle head on. And then I got knocked flat on my hiney.

How bad can a sprain be, you ask? I tore that joker up! I tore the ligament very close to the bone, severing it in two. I ripped my deltoid tendon on the inside of my right ankle. I have a severely bruised bone and severe bone swelling. Not to mention loads of other medical terms that I have never heard of. I need the arthroscopy just to make sure I don't have cartilage floating around in there.

Unlike 90% of the ligaments that heal on their own, my ligament has formed scar tissue on both of the severed ends and is pretty much anchoring down right where it is at. No hope of meshing back together. Sheeesh....this sounds like a bad love story.

With surgery being the only solution, I bravely asked the Doctor to tell me how long my down time was and how difficult the surgery would be. I told him, "Tell it to me straight, Doc. I like my Doctors like my Preachers, straight and honest."

And here's the good news for me. After the surgery, I will be in a splint for 10 days. I will then have a cast for 4 weeks, but I can walk in the cast. This is what made me soooo happy! Walking within 2 weeks?!?! I was ecstatic! Then I will progress to a boot, which I will wear for another 4 weeks. Then I will finally wear a brace for a couple of weeks while I do physical therapy. 12 weeks total. I know, I know. It's a long time. But I was thinking I was going to be completely off my feet for 12 weeks. This is really thrilling news for me.

No doubt, it will still be a long road. Thankfully, the ladies of my church will step in and cook and clean for me. They are a God send, whom I thank in advance. And I thank God. I should be able to at least stand without the aid of crutches at Thanksgiving dinner. I may even get to do a little shopping. That is, if I can get Kevin to drive me around. This is my driving foot (and my piano pedal foot).

So much will have to be altered while my right foot is in protective custody. By the time this terrible crime against my own body has passed, my right foot will be ready to walk again, play again, drive again. I can't wait. Until then, it will have to get used to being sequestered. Actually, I will be the one that will have to make the adjustment!

It's Not Just the Debates....

Ok...I might not be the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to politics, but I do know experience when I see it. I'm talking about John McCain. Although I think McCain won hands down, I still think there is more to the picture than an hour and a half of questions launched in a controlled atmosphere.

Let me preface the rest of the dialogue with a few clarifying statements:

1. McCain was not my pick. My guy didn't make it very far.
2. Palin may have energized the conservative base, but I personally don't like women in politics. She's a far sight better than what most have expected, and she's incredibly intelligent. But for this humble little blogger, Palin did not win me over.
3. For those who haven't guessed by now, I am a conservative. No apologies here. I am proud of my conservative views, even when they aren't popular. I still have to abide by my God given conscience, and that almost completely prohibits me from voting for a Democrat.
4. I have carefully watched the debates this year (cnn.com is a great place to catch up on these AND to watch live streaming), and I have tried to stay inform. I have to say that even though I don't agree with Democrats, I have come to the conclusion that many of them are patriotic. They just believe the government should play a much larger role in our personal lives than what I believe they should. Republicans used to be the party of smaller government, but that's becoming less and less true.

To sum up why I believe McCain will make a better leader, I offer two words: Damage Control. I don't like all of McCain's ideas, but I believe that with his leadership, government will shrink instead of grow. Government has become the source of supply for every one's wants and needs. I want to help the elderly and the sick, but somewhere down the line, personal responsibility has been left out of the equation. And somewhere up the road, it has got to be added back in!

I'm way out of my league here, talking about politics, but I am passionate about my rights and my country. I'm just a homeschooling mom who wants her children to see the beauty of the country they live in. I want the freedom to homeschool without government interference. What are they afraid of? That parents can successfully teach their children without the help and aid of the government?

What about my freedom to worship? I want my children to raise their children with the same freedom. But more and more, we hear of preachers being locked up for preaching on the streets. In this age of "tolerance", folks sure are intolerant of Christians. This greatly concerns me, because under the wrong leadership, these freedoms will quickly erode.

And what about our protection from terrorists? God help us. George Bush has left alot to be desired, but we haven't had another attack on our own turf. He has kept us safe. Liberal foreign policies can be a great threat to our safety.

I've been on my knees. My prayer is that America will receive mercy. God knows, our country needs it. It's not just about who did well at the debates. It's about having experience to lead. It's about shrinking the government instead of expanding it. It's about protecting the freedoms we still have. There's so much at stake. I hope and pray America will vote for the man most prepared to keep my liberties in tact. If not, we all have much to lose.

I Once Had Beautiful Feet

My Nemeses....my arch rivals...these beauties I
must trade for beasts! Is this worth foot surgery?
No. A thousand times No!




It is with sadness and heaviness that I write today. A dark reality has blanketed my day, and I must share it with my readership. I just returned from a follow up appointment with my Orthopaedic Surgeon, and I may have to have yet another foot surgery.

I wince.

You see, I have just now recovered from my first foot surgery. The surgery I had 7 months ago-a "simple" bunionectomy and cystectomy on my left foot. HA! The surgery that very nearly made me question whether I had a purposeful existence. Ladies and gentlemen, I wanted to die. (And I am not using hyperbole) That surgery was the most painful experience of my life, and of all the surgeries I've had, my foot surgery was the most unbearable.

Now, I won't go into all the medical jargon, but I will say this...the foot is nerve rich. Let me put it this way: I would rather relive my hysterectomy than have another foot surgery. But here I sit today, facing a possible and very likely surgery on my right ankle.

I was lucky enough to sustain a severe grade 3 sprain on my first day of our family vacation. Let's hear it for Rita the clutz! It changed the family vacation, to say the very least. I was equipped with an arsenal of Percocets and Lortabs, along with crutches and a very stylish splint. Not. The hiking plans were nixed, along with the tour of the Biltmore House. Instead, we played Scategories and Uno in Marathon-ish proportions.

But being the forever optimist, I simple thought 2-3 weeks in advance. You know, I visualized myself back at Curves with sweat glistening on my brow. I envisioned shedding my tacky splint and tossing those crutches aside. In the midst of my racking pain, I assured myself, "This will be over in a couple of weeks. Sprains aren't as bad as surgery...you'll be over this in no time."

Long story short; ten weeks post injury, my ankle is extremely loose. The swelling is still plaguing me, and there is an ever-present discoloration that resembles a bubonic blue. I would be lying if I said this ankle were pain free. And now the feet that were once dainty and pretty, (even my critical sisters would have to confirm this as fact) look like a crime scene. Or at least the left one does. And the right foot may be soon to follow!

We have a name for the way my feet look....FrankenFoot. A left foot defined by hideous keloid scars; a right foot defined by an eerie discoloration and swelling. Keloids of all things! I've got at least a half dozen surgery scars on my body, but none of them can be seen. None except the lovely keloids sitting atop my foot. My cute summer sandals can't mask the ugly feet that have taken on a life of their own. I would post photos, but it would be too graphic.

Alas! Am I, at 38, doomed to a life of orthopaedic Dr. Scholls footwear and knee high socks? I love my Clarks, but come on! They don't go with everything! I once had beautiful feet, but those feet will never return. It's just the plain hideous truth.

Before I appear overly vain and narcissistic, let me say that a potential ankle surgery holds more than just ugly scars. It also holds a great deal of pain and a long road of recovery. And that gives me the greatest sense of dread.

Let's face it: I have to laugh to keep from crying. My MRI next week will tell the tale. Hopefully, I will escape the pending doom of surgery. But if not, recuperation time means more time to write. Plus, I will readily admit, the Royal Treatment of a woman off her feet for 6-8 weeks is a nice way to recover!

Driving Through the Concrete Jungle with My Little Monkey

For most people, April 15th holds a huge significance. For me, it's October 15th-the real last day you can file your federal income tax return. Just call me the Queen of Income Tax Extensions.

I, your humble blogger, am solely responsible for getting together a year's worth of tax clutter and getting it safely (and accurately) in the hands of a capable accountant. And lucky me, my accountant is located on the other side of Atlanta.

Why the long drive, one might say? Why not go to H & R Block? Well, if you know anything about Minister's taxes, the question is a non sequitur. But if you are unfamiliar with how complex the tax codes are for clergy, let me give you an analogy I use for the difference between men and women: normal tax return=mouse; clergy taxes=keyboard. No offense to anyone that uses the services, but I don't trust my taxes to a "Block" head.

A typical appointment with my accountant last approximately 3 hours, excluding the drive there and back, which adds another 3 hours. An all day event, indeed! But the most dreadful part is the drive through what we local yokels call the "Concrete Jungle"-Atlanta to all others.

I was accompanied by my youngest son, Jordan. He was bored to death sitting at the accountant's office for almost 5 hours today, but his presence allowed me to zip through the HOV Diamond lane, restricted to 2+ passengers. (Thanks son!) He munched on salt and vinegar chips while I chain-chewed my Orbit gum. He constantly chided me for chewing 4 pieces of gum in one hour, but I can't stomach the stuff when it loses it's flavor.

So....it was me and the little guy, all the way there and all the way back. He kept calling out the names of cool cars that passed us. He would point to cars and say, "That's a......" "I want one of those!" He's a source of perpetual chatter. So much like his Mom, God love him!

We enjoyed over an hour of Rush Limbaugh. Even at the age of 13, Jordan has more political sense than many adults. He knows why Obama would be bad for us, and he knows why McCain isn't the best the Republican party had to offer. He asked why money was such a problem when we can print more. I had a hard time explaining that answer. Hearing all this gloom and doom about the stock market has this kid thinking!!

But he was also getting tired of riding. He kept asking, "How far is it to this place?!?!" And boy was he ever ready to get back in that car after sitting in the accountant's office all day. We thought we would surely hit alot of traffic, so we grabbed a bite to eat before we hit I-75. My little monkey loves Krystals. I opted for Chic-Fil-A. Once again, we listened to talk radio. Herman Cain....now there's a guy I would vote for! And Jordan loved hearing him.

So there we were, on our merry way, at 7:15 p.m., trekking back through the Concrete Jungle on the edge of darkness. Atlanta is a scary place in broad daylight, so night time makes me really nervous. Now I know that the 95 pound boy sitting next to me would have been no match for a mugger. He wouldn't have been able to assess any car problems had they arisen. But there was such a comfort in having him in the seat beside me. I felt protected even though logic would dictate that I was the protector.

Have any of you ever felt that way about your son or your child? Just their presence brings comfort and assurance. Just the everyday conversation, hearing them tell about the world as seen through their eyes, can produce an intellectual conversation that can't be parallelled by a member of Mensa.

There is something so profound about children. It's masked with simplicity, but make no mistake; connecting with your children is always deep. It's overwhelming when I think about this relationship that requires constant cultivation. God has given us only one opportunity to raise our children, yet I'm afraid that opportunity is squandered by looking for opportunities. I have found the most opportune times to cultivate are during the drives to the grocery store or while running errands.

It was just an ordinary day, but it became so much more. A drive I dreaded was enriched by the presence of my little monkey, Jordan. My curious Jordan. I'm so thankful to the Lord that my son can be my friend!