Like Listening to a Good Country Song

Day #20

My girlfriend started reposting on Facebook short little pieces written by this guy.

Sean Dietrich.

I was hooked with the first article, essay, whatever you want to call it.

He writes about these people.

Normal, everyday, phenomenal people.

Mostly from the south.

He transports you in the room with them.

He makes you fall in love with them.

He almost always makes me laugh
or cry--

usually both.

Like listening to a good country song.

What a gift he has.

You can go to his website:  http://seandietrich.com

Or like him on Facebook where you can see his recent posts.

Here is one of my favorites.

Grab some tissue.

BROTHERS

SEAN DIETRICH

“My dad left us while Todd was still a baby, he called him an ugly freak. He was too stupid to see how great Todd is. Why, he's the thing I love most in this world."

OCTOBER 15, 2016

Whenever Randy was happy, so was his kid brother, Todd. And even though Todd had Down’s syndrome, it didn’t stop him from being the mirror-image of his idol.

In fact, Todd never knew he was any different than the rest of us. His brother didn’t permit such ideas. If anyone even looked at Todd sideways, Randy would tighten his fists.

Sometimes, the two seemed less like brothers and more like one person.

We’d take Randy fishing; Todd came along. We’d go camping; they’d share a tent.

Consequently, one night I felt splattering against the side of my tent, and heard Todd whistling Dixie.

The next morning, Todd said, “Sorry, I thought you were a tree last night.”

Still, it was impossible not to like Todd. He laughed hard at jokes, sang loud at campfires, and made simple things seem like privileges.

One summer, Todd got a job on the same construction site his brother worked. He wandered around picking up nails and screws for pocket change. He lost the job when he started playing with a high-powered nail gun—accidentally making pin-cushions out of Randy’s truck tires.

Another time: Todd drove his brother to the doctor when he came down with the stomach bug. He piled Randy into the vehicle, fired the engine, and broke the sound barrier.

When the cop pulled him over, Todd instructed the deputy to write him two tickets to save time. The officer was more interested in why Todd was driving without a license—and why he was driving on the median.

But that was long ago. Todd and his brother moved to Tennessee when work slowed down. They grew up, sprouted facial hair. We lost touch. But I still remember the younger versions of them, and how they did everything together.

And I recall the time Todd fell prey to a fistfight because someone called him, “retard.” Randy stepped in and ended the rumble in a few seconds. When the scrape was over, Randy told me through bloody lips:

“My dad left us while Todd was still a baby, he called him an ugly freak. He was too stupid to see how great Todd is. Why, he’s the thing I love most in this world.”

Anyway, a few weeks ago, Randy was on his way home from work and fell asleep at the wheel. I’m sorry to say that it was a dark day in Tennessee.

They tell me Todd gave one hell of a eulogy. And when somebody asked why he wasn’t crying, he answered:

“Because. Randy’s happy right now. And we always do everything together.”

You are welcome.

More Procedures for Monte

Day #19

Monte’s “little procedure” on his nose this past summer had a nice side effect.

The good kind--for once.

He met his insurance deductible.

That’s a new phenomenon for us so Monte decided to take advantage and schedule some other procedures he was due for.

A colonoscopy and a scope for his esophagus 

(whatever “oscopy” that’s called).

Monte scheduled the procedures some time ago.

He spent Monday on a liquid-only diet, which is why Monte didn’t go on an official college visit with McDaniel and I.

He knew he’d be weak 

and hangry 

and in no condition to evaluate an institution of higher learning.

McDaniel and I got home from the tour right before Monte had to begin his procedure prep for the colonoscopy.

It was so much better than the prep he had to go through over 10 years ago.

And it didn’t make him gag!

I didn’t want to make a dinner in front of him that he couldn’t eat, so we all went out and left Monte with the effects of his prep.

Since Monte was having two procedures, 

I assumed there was going to be a lot of time in the waiting room.

I was not going to make the same mistakes 

I did during the nose procedure.

I brought my laptop, phone charger, a book,

loaded my purse with protein bars and mints

and brought cash for the vending machines.

The office was on the other side of the city from us so we left in more than enough time to get there.

We were the only people in the office when we got there.

I spread out and got my entertainment all set up with wifi passwords.

They called Monte back and said I’d be allowed to wait with him once they got him settled.

As it turns out, getting him settled took just a few minutes.

I had to pack up all my things and walk back with the nurse.

Monte was in a gown, hooked up to an IV and lying in a hospital bed.

Monte is "showing a little shoulder" due to a broken snap on his gown.

We met lots of different people that would be a part of each procedure. 

Our friend, Mark, was doing the colonoscopy.

He held up a protein shake container and said he was going to be the doctor

 that admits he just had a liquid lunch.

Monte had a liquid lunch the day before but it consisted 

of orange gatorade and ice tea.

That protein shake was basically 

a steak in milkshake form.

Monte was having the scope and the colonoscopy back to back.

Or side to side as it turns out.

When they were ready to wheel him into the procedure room,

they sent me with my bags 

plus a plastic bag full of Monte’s clothes, 

back to the waiting room.

I got out my laptop and a protein bar.

I’d barely finished the last bite when the first doctor was ready to talk to me in a private room about Monte’s esophageal scope.

I had to pack up EVERYTHING once again.

The doctor told me they had to stretch 

Monte’s esophagus with a balloon.

Of course, I immediately wondered 

what color the balloon was.

But I didn’t ask.

He said I could stay in that room while the colonoscopy was being done and they’d come get me when Monte was finished.

I unpacked things again.

This wait was only slightly longer.

Mark came to get me and said everything was okay and they gave Monte a lot of anesthesia because he stirred a few times during the procedure and he didn’t want him to remember anything and then bring it up the next time we were all having dinner together.

He led me to Monte, curled up in a bed sleeping with one eye partially open.

Which is freaky since Nigel sleeps like that sometimes.

But he’s a dog.

I tried to close Monte’s eye.

Mark assured me it was just the effects of the drugs.

It made it look like he was on the verge of saying something 

but he was out.

The nurse nudged him a few times and said,

“Marty! Marty?”

I explained that he wouldn’t answer to that 

since his name is Monte.

Monte stirred all at once, grabbed the oxygen in his nose and yanked it out forcefully.

He asked where he was and why I was there.

Apparently, I was there to move room to room 

with three bags of stuff 

that like a ding-dong 

I kept unpacking only to have to repack 

and move three minutes later.

Later he told me he thought he was 

still in the procedure room 

and wondered why I was there too.

Monte was in and out of sleep for awhile.

Mark told me that some soft eggs would be a good first meal for Monte and gave me directions to the closest Waffle House.

The last time Monte had a colonoscopy, 

he immediately ate a cheeseburger and a chocolate shake 

and then promptly threw it up in the Bob Evans’ bathroom.

Eggs sounded like a MUCH better option.

Monte rolled over on his back and very LOUDLY asked to sit up.

The nurse rushed over to prop him up and asked if he wanted something to drink.

The sedation must’ve messed up Monte’s sense of volume because he practically screamed,

“YES!”

A little later, he asked for GRAHAM CRACKERS AND A GINGER ALE like he was shouting over a jet engine.

The nurse looked at me and suggested Monte might not be ready for the public and to make him eggs at home.

She may or may not have said she feared his screaming would be misunderstood.

At Waffle House?

That’s the one place I’d feel pretty comfortable 

taking a still-sedated man with volume control.

I pulled the car up close to the building so the nurse could push Monte in a wheelchair, holding his ginger ale with a bendy straw, still hollering something about GRAHAM CRACKERS.

She reminded me to keep a hand on him because he was still wobbly.

I’m pretty sure I saw the nurse sigh in relief as we pulled away.

I decided right then that she got paid for this 

and I did not 

and I’d be making those eggs at home.

I didn’t drive to the medical office so I asked Siri to give me directions home.

I questioned her advice right away.

As I should.

Monte grabbed the phone and told me which way to go.

Under sedation, Monte’s sense of direction 

was still better than mine.

Even if his volume was turned up to11.

Once home, Monte ate four scrambled eggs, three pieces of toast and a turkey and cheese panini.

He woke up this morning in a great mood, filled with ALL THE THOUGHTS and questions about new laptops, current events, what I thought of a certain political cartoon, he read me a few emails, showed me a few texts…

but his volume was normal,

so all is right in our world.

Mile 19

Day #18

Our city has a marathon every October.

Since we are in the central part of Ohio,

it’s nice and flat here, 

making this a good qualifier marathon 

for bigger races like Boston.

But a terrible place
to find a good sledding hill.

We woke up a few days ago to cars parked on our street like it was a college football Saturday.

Except it was Sunday.

We forgot it was the marathon.

They close many streets by our house.

It always seems like our women’s retreat at church is over the weekend of the marathon and I miss it.

Not this year!

Once I started hearing cheering and music,

Monte and I walked across the street to the the field by our house.

It was mile 19.

People were hurting.

Moving pretty slow.

And it was hot.

It’s amazing what some cheering, clapping and words of encouragement did for the posture of these runners.

Many started to run if they’d been walking.

Some started walking if they’d stopped.

They all picked up the pace.

Some thanked us as they ran by.

Like we were the ones doing something, 

just standing there, 

clapping our hands, 

telling them good job.

There was one guy on the sidelines who said,

“Good job runners!” 

over
and over
and over again.

He called them by name if he could see it in time on the number pinned to their shirt as they ran by.

“Good job, Elaine!”

“Way to go, Pam!”

“Good job runners!” 



“Good job runners!” 



“Good job runners!” 

They smiled.

18,000 of them.

One guy came by with anguish on his face and the name “Fartybutt” on his sign. 

You know he thought it was HILARIOUS 

when he typed that in as his name 

when he registered for the race.

I contemplated saying,

“You got this, Fartybutt!”

thinking it might get a smile out of him 

but I thought better of it.

He was running a marathon, 

he needed encouragement 

not a reminder of his weird sense of humor.

Or mine.

It took me awhile to do anything but clap because the lump in my throat was so tight I couldn’t speak.

I get like this.

Watching true humanity against all the odds is so moving.

It’s why I love the Olympics so much.

And the last 5 minutes of the nightly news
when they do the heart warming stories.

I had just calmed myself down enough to start to cheer on the runners when a man with no legs came by in his wheelchair.

It wasn’t the sporty sleek wheelchairs with three wheels that go super fast.

No, it was the upright kind you see in hospitals 

and airports 

and now on mile 19 of a marathon.

Red-faced and breathless,

the man in the chair thanked every person clapping and cheering.

Every single one.

I deteriorated into a blubbering mess.

I looked for Monte who’d walked away to ask ALL THE QUESTIONS about every sign, every person, every tent, every everything.

It’s what he does.

He came back to tell me that the LOW ALERT flag that was flying not far from us meant the runners were safe to continue.

I hadn’t even noticed it.

I was too busy crying off my mascara.

Since the Boston marathon bombing, flags fly at certain points along the route to let the runners know if there’s an update in the alert status.

It made me mad ALL OVER AGAIN that someone would attack someone 

in the difficult process of running a marathon.

But it didn’t deter these people.

Young and old, bent over and in wheelchairs.

Little kids jumped in and ran a little bit with some of the runners.

One man ran with his arm around another’s waist in such a neat act of encouragement.

One young man stood decked out in full Nintendo’s Mario costume holding a box on a pole with a question mark on it.

He called out support to the runners and asked them to tap it for “extra points.”

I didn’t get it but many runners did and smiled as they tapped it.

His arms had to be tired as he held them high 

so the pole stayed within the runner’s reach.

Mile 19 reminded me of one of my favorite verses:

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out of for us.”

Hebrews 12:1

It reminded me that we’re all in this race together and I have some encouraging to do as I watch people run red-faced and tired by me.

The study notes in my bible says this:

The Greek word translated “witnesses” is the origin of the English word “martyr” and means “testifiers, witnesses.” They bear testimony to the power of faith and to God’s faithfulness.

I can tell you, 

I saw a lot of testimonies to the power of faith on mile 19.

I’m in a bible study now that says to always ask the question,

“Why is the therefore there for?”

My favorite verse in Hebrews starts with a therefore and I’ve never bothered to look why.

The verse right before (Hebrews 11:40) says this:

“God had planned something better for us so that 

only together with us would they be made perfect.”

God knew this life was going to be a marathon not a sprint.

He knew it was going to be a long race of winding streets, pounding pavement, heat and sometimes evil with backpacks full of explosives.

But He never meant us to run it alone.

He’s running right along with us and the 

Elaines 

and Pams 

and Fartybutts 

and sitting right in the chair 

with the guy with no legs.

And He makes sure we hear those cheering for us,

“Good job, runners!”

"Good job, runners!”

“Good job, runners!”

"Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, 

so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.”

Hebrews 12:3

I’m Ready for Something Different

Day #17

We have a day off of school so McDaniel and I are going on an OFFICIAL college visit today.

No football game.

No mascot judging.

(maybe)

I’m so glad. 

I’m ready for something different.

I’m weary.

We have been barraged with bad news lately.

Cancer.

Death.

Illness.

Divorce.

Despair.

I’m weary.

I’m ready for something different.

I’ve seen firsthand the hopelessness

but I’ve also seen the hope.

I’ve heard the profound grief

but also whispers of peace.

I’ve seen the joy after despair.

It’s a scary time with very real things to fear

but I can’t help but feel that something good is coming

and I’m ready for something different, 

aren’t you?

But forget all that--

it is nothing compared to what I am going to do.

For I am about to do something new.

See, I have already begun! Do you not see it?

I will make a pathway through the wilderness.

I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.

Isaiah 43:18-19

Authority

Day #16

I heard a great story at bible study.

A woman retold a story that during World War II, an American plane with POWs onboard got word in flight that the war was over and we had won.

The American soldiers pulled off the patches of rank on the POW soldiers’ uniforms.

They had no authority over them.

Victory.

This woman beautifully equated that story of war to what Jesus has done for us.

He’s already won the battle over evil.

It has no authority over us.

We may let it occupy our mind or worry too much over it but we need to remember,

evil has no rank of authority over us.

Jesus stripped those false patches of power right off of our enemy.

WE WIN.

"But thanks be to God! He gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.”

1 Corinthians 15:57

The Message says it like this:

“It was sin that made death so frightening and law-code guilt that gave sin its leverage, its destructive power. But now in a single victorious stroke of Life, all three--sin, guilt, death--are gone, the gift of our Master, Jesus Christs. Thank God!”

Giddy Up, Eunice

Day #15

I took a break from reading Alexander Hamilton this summer to read Giddy Up, Eunice by Sophie Hudson.

This is her third book and just might be my favorite.

The other two were more memoir like in genre.

This one is a close look at the multi-generational relationships 

in the bible between women.

The word “multi-generational” is a funny word for me.

Last year when I was at our church’s women’s retreat,

the one where I spoke with all the courage of the cowardly lion from Wizard of Oz,

I got to spend time with a lovely young woman 

who was leading the worship songs.

We had such a great time together.

She was interesting, talented and a quick wit.

I so enjoyed her.

I decided the week following the event to send her an email telling her so.

She replied with sweet words and then a sentence something like this:

“I just love how our church fosters 

multi-generational relationships.”

Ummm… say what?

I was the “multi-generational” she was referring to!

She was in her 20s and for a second or two, 

I must’ve thought I was too.

Nothing the term “multi-generational” couldn’t fix right up.

I felt ready for a hip replacement 

or a plastic rain bonnet.

I shared this with my prayer group.

They love bringing it up every now and then.

As it turns out, 

so does God.

He keeps surrounding me with these smart, beautiful, younger women who are so open and funny and friendly.

I love it!

But I feel like I need to warn them

of my impending hip replacement.

Oh, it’s coming… eventually.

As God would have it,

Sophie’s book came out right in the middle of me feeling like the “Meemaw” 

around these adorable young women.

The book is divided into three parts, discussing the “multi-generational” relationships in the bible between 

Naomi and Ruth, 

Elizabeth and Mary 

and Eunice and Lois.

Sophie does a beautiful job showing the wisdom, comfort and companionship these women provided for each other.

As in both ways.

As Sophie always beautifully does, she peppers in stories of her own “multi-generational” relationships.

It reminded me of the sweet, dear, older ladies in my bible study.

They are all in their 80s.

I love them so 

and value every word they say.

They have such peace and wisdom.

I’m not there yet.

This book really sinks in that we need each other,

young and old,

and we shouldn’t break into groups 

by age all the time.

There’s too much we have to offer one another.

If you haven’t done so, check out Sophie’s blog at bigboomama.net.

And her other books:

The Stuff That Always Happens When Monte is Out of Town

Day #14

McDaniel was working hard gluing cut out, printed pieces of information on card stock paper for a project.

She spent a long time on the project before moving on to other homework.

I grabbed the glue stick to put it away when I noticed it wasn’t glue at all.

It was Monte’s sunscreen stick he uses to protect his nose.

Since the whole nose procedure thing.

I showed McDaniel the sunscreen and she pulled out her folder and all the pieces of paper were peeling off of the card stock.

I think there is an entire sermon in this.

About how we are quick to grab something 

that looks like the solution 

only to realize after a lot of energy and time 

that it wasn’t what we thought it was.

Or maybe just how there’s only one true thing that binds…

Or don’t leave your sunscreen in the same drawer as the glue sticks, 

Monte.

He said he’s awfully glad he hasn’t (yet) put glue on his nose.

It was somewhere around me texting Monte about the sunscreen that I noticed the toilet was clogged in the bathroom.

I plunged 

and plunged 

and plunged 

and flushed 

and plunged again.

Nothing.

I’d wait awhile and repeat the whole process.

Nothing.

Stuff like this always happens when Monte is out of town.

So I went to bed.

McDaniel woke me up to ask if I heard the thud downstairs.

I did not.

She asked me to check it out.

Ummm… no.

Stuff like this always happens when Monte is out of town.

In the morning, I found McDaniel’s overly stuffed, ridiculously heavy backpack in the middle of the kitchen floor.

It had fallen off the bar stool.

Thank goodness I didn’t dig deep the night before

for some bravery I did not think I had 

only to trip on a backpack  

and beat it to smithereens with a toilet plunger.

Speaking of…

I had a meeting first thing in the morning so I forgot to check on the clogged toilet issue.

During the meeting, a woman asked if she could come over and look at the subway tile in my kitchen.

I rushed home to make sure the breakfast dishes were in the dishwasher before she got there.

I was greeted at the door by a less than savory smell.

The clogged toilet!!

Poop. Soup.

I’m sorry. 

There’s just no other way to describe it.

And it rhymes.

I lit all the candles I owned and closed the bathroom door on the horror.

I quickly texted Monte for the plumber's number while the doorbell rang.

After the lady left, I plunged the hot mess toilet within an inch of my life and sanity.

A loud sucking sound interrupted the heartbeat thumping coming out of my left eyeball.

The toilet flushed!

Not only did it flush, it resumed a normal color and water level!

Victory!!

Later, I convinced an admissions guy at a university that the tour on Monday wasn’t too full for one more and got McDaniel registered over the phone--no online registration required!

Now that is definitely NOT something that always happens 

when Monte is out of town.

Wilbur and the Spark

Day#13

I was reading Imparting Grace’s blog post the other day and saw a picture of a plaque with a little boy and a pig on it. I was curious and clicked on the link.

Cheryl from Homespun Devotions tells the wonderful true story about a minister and a little boy’s generous donation.

Back in 1913, a traveling minister spoke at a church about leprosy in the hopes of raising money for a home for treatment.

The minister spoke with such passion that it inspired a 10-year boy in the audience, Wilbur, to buy a piglet, raise it and sell it with all the proceeds going to the leprosy home.

The pig got $25.

In 1913, $25 would pay for an entire year’s 

worth of medical treatment for one person with leprosy.

The minister was so touched by the generosity of Wilbur, that he had an iron casting company make little iron pigs with slots in the top to give out to people so they could “feed the pig” and save up like Wilbur to donate to the leprosy home.

The home raised over a million dollars that year.

In the early 1900s!

Isn’t it amazing that the only part of the story that rings familiar today is the piggy bank?

Not Wilbur.

Not the pig he bought 

and raised 

and sold.

Not leprosy.

It’s these “lost” stories that make me wonder how fiction could ever compete with reality.

The truth always makes a better story.

If it didn’t then why does a movie trailer bother mentioning,

“Based on a true story?"

It causes us to pay attention and ponder if it happened to them

than what could happen to us?

It sparks the Wilbur inside.

Cheryl talks about how the term “spark” has taken on a negative tone in today’s media. But it could be something so positive.

A movement.

Check it out:

http://cherylsmithministries.blogspot.com/2016/09/what-do-my-actions-spark.html

College Visit Third Time Around

Day #12

We decided to try visiting a large state school this time around on our college visit tour.

McDaniel brought a friend from church who was curious about the school as well

and Ellie brought a friend so she’d have someone to hang out with that wasn’t her parents.

The school was two hours away.

About an hour into the drive and after LOTS of REALLY LOUD music played by the girls spanning the genres of rap, boy bands, to the soundtrack of Dream Girls,

Monte and I were in need of a break.

We pulled over to find a restroom and saw that we were at the same exact exit of our beloved railroad car diner!

We had decided earlier that we wanted to eat on campus so we didn’t stop at the diner again.

It was a beautiful football Saturday.

Our first brisk Fall day,

sweater weather at last, 

with a stunning blue sky.

It was homecoming for the university we were attending so we worried there would be big crowds.

We easily found a parking spot by the student union and found a food court inside with a Chick-fil-A (McDaniel was happy), a Panda Express and a Qdoba.

Monte and I talked with the girl taking our order and she mentioned this school was a big commuter school.

Hmmmmm…

The student union was beautiful.

We had a view of the football stadium and the soccer stadium which was pretty large as well.

We walked out onto campus to see the cheerleaders, some dancers and the marching band gathering.

We waited for awhile to see what was going to happen and then we realized nothing very soon so we walked around.

We found the fitness center.

It seemed brand new complete with a climbing wall, two pools, one with a lazy river and lots of mini courts for basketball and volleyball.

We walked around some dorm and apartment buildings that were stunning.

Right by the stadium we saw an ESPN truck.

This school is a Division 1 university so the game was going to be televised.

McDaniel was super excited about that!

We saw a huge inflated football helmet that lead to the entrance of a practice facility with all kinds of inflatables inside.

It was like a mini-combine with ladders to run, footballs to throw and photo ops.

Monte has been working out.

We should probably take a moment to talk about the the important factors of this school according to McDaniel.

The colors.

Blue and gold. 

Fine combination but tough in our neck of the woods 

since they represent Michigan which is a hated rival.

We also need to discuss the mascot.

Kangaroo.

His name is Zippy. Or Zip.

I noticed he had trouble running along the football field due to that long heavy tail.

There were t-shirts in the bookstore that said FEAR THE ROO.

McDaniel thinks it’s AWESOME.

We left the practice facility just in time to see the football players head to the stadium and the band enter the stadium.

It was so cool!

We had great seats and the team was good!

McDaniel was excited to see a student section where the kids stood the entire game and actually cheered with the cheerleaders.

After the first touchdown the cheerleaders shot a t-shirt cannon and Monte dove and caught it!

He fell on his back and sat with his eyes closed for a bit before celebrating that he had indeed caught the only t-shirt shot into the crowd at that time.

We celebrated right away hoping he wasn’t hurt 

but happy he got the t-shirt nonetheless.

We were surprised the stadium wasn’t full since it was homecoming which made Monte and I contemplate the girl back at Chick-fil-A’s comment about this school having a lot of commuters.

We realized on the way to the car that we hadn’t seen even half of the campus but we were so tired of walking by that point we decided we’d have to come back for an official visit.

It was around that time we noticed Monte was limping.

A price he was happy to pay for a free t-shirt.

Three schools down,

two on the “like” list.