Feverish Rambings

Well, I am officially a walking biohazard. At the moment, both the kids and I have strep throat and my pink eye is still lingering. My husband is the only one who has escaped it thus far, and I don't see how that can last very long since he is the one taking care of us. I hate being sick. I always feel guilty if I'm not up doing my job as wife and mommy. I'm very lucky to have such a sweetie for a husband who jumps right in and takes over, but I still feel like I'm letting my family down. We had fast food for supper last night which I detest doing. Fever can do some interesting things, though. Last night I dreamed that Prince Charles was bungee jumping in our front yard. Hey, that's entertainment!

An Accute Case of Adulthood?

Whoa! I jumped rope with my kids today and every time I hit the ground it felt like my brain was going to come out of my head. I don't remember this sensation from childhood. Last time I sat on a swing I felt like I was going to be sick after a few minutes. Was my sneaking suspicion that day correct? Am I getting old?

If anyone else is experiencing these symptoms, let me know and we can fight it together!

It's Funny What Hearing Keith Whitley Can Do...

I am no longer in my minivan, but lying on a painted iron bed pushed into the corner of a tiny bedroom, fitted with a faded set of clown sheets and cleverly stationed between the two windows, between which flows a sweet breeze that made the 100 degree weather with 90% humidity bearable. To my right is a large pasture that houses "Peanut", the old nag of a horse that belongs to the landlord and to my left lies my sister, sleeping peacefully like I am supposed to be doing. As usual, Julie is doing what's expected and I can't seem to slow down long enough for napping. My freshly washed hair is still damp since it's way too hot for a hairdryer (and my dad doesn't have one anyway) and fans out on my pillow. A tired electric fan blows lazy air and every 10 seconds it oscillation rewards me with an extra burst of coolness, if you dare call it that. The sounds coming from the kitchen are somewhat faint, but I can definitely make them out. My dad is frying something on the stove and Keith Whitley is playing on the AM radio that I can see setting on the window sill. My mind is anticipating the Saturday night supper which will consist of roundsteak and gravy (my dad's own recipe), fried okra, butter beans and an ice cold slice of the reddest, ripest tomato you have ever seen. Tomato slices are a summer staple and accompany every meal from June til September. My dad's sweetheart will come over to eat and afterwards I'll get to sit in her lap while we watch "Hee-Haw" and "Knight Rider" and her perfume will smell wonderful. I'll grow drowsy to the sounds of Dolly Parton and the Statler Brothers but I will fight to stay up as late as my sister. When bedtime does roll around, my dad will say "Time to hit the sack" and we will go back to the old iron bed, where daddy will tell us the story of the frog and his broom. After the lights are out, my sister and I "play pretend" which usually means I make up some scenario...we're the Ingalls family trapped in a blizzard, we're explorers on a boat at sea, we're camping out in the wilderness...and then Julie will fall asleep and I will be left alone, telling myself delicious stories. Once I hear my dad walk his sweetie to her car and the porch light goes out, I finally give in to slumber, swaying to the rhythm of the cicada's song.

What a Weekend!

Its a lovely Friday night...swimming with the family, grilling chicken kabobs on the deck, my little boy laughing on the porch swing...blueberry vomit spews everywhere, and its all downhill from there. Although there was no head spinning involved, it was definitely horror movie material. Why is it that when a child throws up, there is always more to come out than went in? I mean, blueberries and a cup of yogurt from 4 hours earlier and suddenly we need a Haz-Mat team to clean off our back porch. Okay, I know I am being overly dramatic and disgusting here, but isn't it fun? Anyway, my little sweetie was okay, just a mess.

Saturday at noon...my daughter's second soccer practice of the season (really the first since the real first was rained out), cleets, shin guards, size 3 ball, 4 boys, 2 girls, "Hustle, Hustle"...vomit. Yes, it was Hallie's turn. Poor thing, she was so excited about the new season, not to mention her back-to-school carnival was that afternoon and we obviously couldn't go. What did we do instead? Some family cuddle time on the couch while we watched Shrek for the millionth time. That's okay...I am just glad they got better so soon. At least we were all well enough to go to church on Sunday. Randy had written a soundtrack for a drama presentation and I really wanted to hear it. For those of you who don't know, my husband is an extremely talented musician and he plays keyboard, and sometimes the drums (which I love to see him do *wink*) at our church. I'll have to share some of his music soon. It'll blow you away. Can you tell I kind of like him ;) ?

Okay, gotta go. Here's a picture of Hallie pre-vomit. Didn't she look cute?

On the Mend...

Well, I am recovering from severe pharyngitis. After trying to put out the fire in my throat for two weeks, I finally got some antibiotics yesterday. Other than the fact that they are the size of my pinky finger, they are working wonders. Let's just say its a good thing my hubby knows the Heimlich Maneuver.

Well, to answer the question of the last few days, the picture in the post below is the Tennessee River at sunset. I took that on a Father's Day boat ride. Hey, there is a reason they call it "Alabama the Beautiful". I am very blessed to hail from such a lovely place...and I know how to make some great fried okra and grits to boot. How could I ask for more? ;)

Draw Me Close to You...

Having struggled with anxiety and panic attacks for years, my young adulthood has been comprised of searching for relief and peace. Many times I have found it, but lost my elusive grasp before I could really call it mine. Growing up in a fervent Southern Baptist home and having been given a strong biblical background, I should have known exactly where to look. In fact, knowing this actually compounded guilt with my anxiety since I felt that by being afraid, I was actually doubting God and His promises. I began to feel that since I was one of such seemingly little faith, God didn't really want to hear from me. I didn't deserve to have His counsel. I could cling to the small amount of hope my salvation at age ten gave to me, but the idea of continuing to grow closer to Jesus seemed improbable at best. I know, I know...this is twisted thinking, but I honestly felt that although I was born again, my struggles with doubts and fears did nothing but leave God daily disgusted with me. Even though I thought about Jesus constantly and would often cry out to Him in times of desparation, I never expected a reply. It wasn't until a few years ago, that I realized that I was allowing Satan to destroy my memory of the one thing that could actually break this cycle...The Grace of God.

I was sitting in church, listening to my pastor preach about Faith. I will never forget when he read Mathew 17:20. It was a verse I had heard many times, but never fully understood. It reads "...I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you." All of a sudden I realized, all it takes is a minuscule amount of faith to do the Lord's work. God can start with something tiny and create something vast.

The next words my pastor spoke struck me even more. He began to tell the story found in Mark 9 of the possessed boy. His father brought him to Jesus to be healed. When the father asked our Lord (Mark 9:21) "...if you can do anything, take pity on us and help us" Jesus replied "If I can? Everything is possible for him who believes. Immediately the boy's father exclaimed, 'I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!'." When I went home that afternoon, I sat alone in my home office. I knew what I had to do...I began to "have it out" with God. I poured out all my frustrations and fears. I told him I was afraid and what I was afraid of...every single little thing. I told him I worried he did not exist. I told him I was sometimes angry that he made me this way. I also told him that I had never stopped loving him and that I never would. I begged him to forgive me and give me peace. I told him I believed, but needed his help with my doubts. I offered him myself, with all my shortcomings. In short, I had a real conversation with my Savior, and afterwards, I felt His answer. I had not told him anything he didn't already know. Of course not...He is our all-powerful and all-knowing Lord! What I had done was talk to him . I opened the lines of communication; I asked for what I needed and He gave it to me, as he promised he would. It was that simple. He wasn't angry...lightning didn't strike me...instead, I felt the love of a father to his child. I sat in the lap of my Lord and cried like the baby that I was, and like the daddy ("Abba") that he is, he comforted me. I am still an anxious person. I still have struggles. One thing that is sure, though, is that I never, ever struggle alone. God has given me the peace I asked for and more. The faith I thought was too small has grown into an eternal knot of the greatest of gifts...faith, hope and love.

There is a song we sing at church that my heart has claimed. It's words speak to me in a very powerful way. Maybe it will speak to you...

Draw me close to You.
Never let me go.
I lay it all down again
To hear You say that I'm your friend.

You are my desire.
No one else will do.
Cause nothing else could take Your place,
To feel the warmth of Your embrace.
Help me find the way, bring me back to You.

(chorus)
You're all I want,
You're all I've ever needed.
You're all I want.
Help me know you are near.

© 1994 Mercy/Vineyard Publishing
CCLI# 1596342
Album: Draw Me Close
25 Top Vineyard Worship Songs

It's Cool to be a Swan

Today I found out I am an INFP personality type. Read on...

"To the INFP healing means mending those divisions that plague one's private life and relationships...helping to restore lost unity and integrity. They present a tranquil face to the world, but while to all appearances they might seem gentle and easy-going, on the inside they are anything but serene (can anyone say anxiety?), having a capacity for caring not usually found in other types. Healers care deeply, passionately, about a few special persons or a favorite cause, and their fervent aim is to bring peace to themselves and their loved ones.

They want to learn about the humanities, are preoccupied with morale...they are altruistic, credulous, mystical and base their self image on being seen as empathetic, benevolent, and authentic. They trust intuition, yearn for romance, and aspire to the wisdom of the sage. Intellectually, they are prone to practice diplomacy far more that logicstics and tactics.

Healers have a profound sense of idealism derived from a strong personal morality. To understand them, we must understand their idealism as almost boundless and selfless, inspiring them to make extraordinary sacrifices for those they believe in. Isolated by their seclusiveness and infrequency (around 1% of the population) their idealism leaves them feeling even more isolated from the rest of humanity.

Healers seek unity because of a feeling of alienation which comes from their often unhappy childhood. They live a fantasy filled childhood, which sadly, is discouraged by many parents. With siblings who conform to these parental expectations (no offense Julesy), Healers come to see themselves as ugly ducklings. Other types may shrug off parental expectations that do not fit them, but not the INFPs. Wishing to please their parents and siblings, but not knowing quite how they try to hide their differences, believing they are bad to be so fanciful, so unlike their more solid (usually older) brothers or sisters (ahem!). They wonder, some for all their lives, whether they are OK. They are quite OK, just different from the others...swans reared in a family of ducks."

Um, okay, could this be any closer to reality? It goes on to explain that most INFP's are gifted in language and many become writers, but I will spare you. I am glad to know that my friend's graduate courses in psychology are good for something ;) I suppose it was worth the hour it took to take the test to find out that I am a "quite OK" swan. Gee, I had been wondering!

Ethan Starts Preschool

Okay, I know most of my readers are a little tired of me emoding about my babies starting school, but too bad! My little boy started preschool on Thursday and he did so well! He's going 2 mornings a week for 3 hours. I am so proud of him because they started him ahead of schedule (he won't be three for 3 and a half months) due to his "advanced development and verbal abilities". So just let me bask in a mommy moment for a minute, roll your eyes and I will get back to my insightful postings tomorrow.

Hallie Starts School...

Today is my little girl's first day of kindergarten! I cannot believe we have arrived at this milestone already. It seems like only months ago I first saw her, already 12 hours old (emergency surgery delay), and I lost consciousness in my wheelchair. Okay, so that's a post for another time, but I feel like a very special part of my life is ending. I know that it's a beginning as well, but I have had a lump in my throat all morning. Thankfully, her class situation couldn't be better...her teacher is great, there are only 17 students in her class (including two of her best friends), and the school itself is only ten years old. I know this is a great thing for her and I am excited, I just have to adjust to her being gone until 2:30. At least I still have Ethan at home! Poor thing, he has a fever of 104 so we have spent the afternoon at the doctor's office. Okay, got to go get my girl! Here's a picture of her from this morning.

We're Back!

Wow...what a week! Although I have just returned from a splendid family vacation to the Smoky Mountains, there has been a barrage of tragedy back home. Two friends (both men), one 32 years of age and the other 41, both collapsed and died. Neither had any warning and both had small children. There are two devestated families close to me right now. I also found out 3 days ago that my brother-in-law's mom, who is also a close friend of mine, is violently ill and has been diagnosed with lung cancer that has spread to the liver. The outlook doesn't look good. Many times during this vacation brought tears to my eyes, especially since it was wrought with photographic opportunities. Jackie is the one who helped me get my start in photog freelance, as many of you know. She is such a giving person, as is my brother-in-law, and the thought of that family experiencing any more pain (lost son to suicide a few years ago) is unbearable to me. Unfortunately, she is in a tremendous amount of physical and emotional pain at the moment, and I am powerless. This entire week's events have brought back several unpleasant memories for me where I have felt just as powerless, or even more so. My dad's battle with cancer when I was ten, witnessing my mom's heart attack, head injury and ensuing custody battle when I was eleven, my mom's battle with breast cancer twice, once in 1997 and then more severely in early 2002...all these have made me the anxious hypochondriac that I am today. However, I think they have also taught me more about human strength, the power of prayer and hope than anything else. Right now, as I listen to my husband practice playing the Mercy Me song "I Can Only Imagine" for the first funeral tomorrow, I am somewhat comforted. I may not find resolution today or tomorrow for these losses or for my past tragedies, but there is peace lurking in the vicinity. I just have to catch it.

Jackie's site

One Hot Mama...

The heat index is 114 degrees today! I mean, I am used to the Alabama heat since I have lived here all my life, but this is ridiculous!

My Daughter

Hallie is five years old and has short blonde hair, a little button nose and sweet brown eyes. Not only is she beautiful, she has a heart beyond her years. Fiercly loyal, extremely giving, very creative, affectionate, happy, responsible, nurturing, inquisitive, intelligent and deep...these are my daughter. Whenever I hear her playing with her brother I think to myself "She is going to be an amazing woman one day." She is, of course, a child and she still does childish things. I am not under the impression that she is perfect or that she will someday change the world. Like me, I think she will be content with just changing her world and those lucky enough to be a part of it. Fortunately, Randy, Ethan and I are. When I watch her caring for her brother, patting his cheeks or randomly kissing his head and telling him that she loves him so much..Or when she tells her daddy she wants to marry him...Or when she lovingly strokes my hair and says I am the prettiest mommy ever...Or when she prays "I love you and I like you, God"...I just can't take it all in. I know that I must simply step back, thank God, and watch as He continues forming her heart. I am in awe...not of what I have accomplished in my daughter, but what He has done in spite of our humanity. Is it divine spark or simply His way of reminding us that no matter how we may try, we cannot move away from what He longs to give us?

The love that I feel for my children...times infinity.

Imagery of the Skies

A cloudless night begats a romantic evening with my husband and his telescope.

Comedy of Errors

Have you ever had one of those events where you perfect a plan, only to have circumstances intervene and say "hey, not so fast!"? Today was a perfect day for boating. The kids were at my parents so we could get a chance to catch our breath. There were a few clouds, but nothing ominous. So, we packed a cooler, donned our swimsuits and headed down to the marina. When we got there, we were expecting it to be clean since we paid someone to detail it this week. For some unknown reason, this individual who will remain nameless only rinsed off the outside of the boat leaving the cockpit quite filthy. So, we rolled up our sleeves and got to work. A few hundred spiderwebs and wasp nests later, we headed out. Our first stop was to fill up the gas tank. While sitting in the heat waiting for service, a marine policeman pulls up and says "Let's see your registration". Hmmm....now logically we would have put that on the boat months ago, but logic can be overrated, right? So, a citation later, we head out again, undeterred by these events. Well, we didn't get very far. Five minutes into our trip, the motor starts behaving very strangely. It's about this time we decide boating wasn't in the cards for us today. Disappointed but not ready to give up, we dock and decide to go home and swim. After spending a few hours in the Alabama heat for a boat trip that didn't happen, cooling off in the pool sounded beautiful. However, nature had other ideas, since a steady rain began falling when we turned onto our street. My husband and I looked at each other quietly for a few moments. "Okay" I said. "Do you think a nap would be a realistic possibility or am I just expecting too much from life?" After laughing for a few minutes, we did just that, and it felt soooooooooo good. And guess what? We awoke just in time to swim the evening away with Hallie and Ethan. Even though things didn't work out like we'd planned, I still had all day with my sweet husband and that in itself is good enough for me. Its hard to have a bad day when you are as blessed as we are. I suppose today was just a testament to that!

"Because It's Bro-o-ken..."

You know, its funny. When I bought the "Mr. Incredible" sandals for my 2 and a half year old son, my first thought was "Oh my gosh! They actually have his size! He's going to love these!". I had already been through the Disney store 4 or 5 times in an attempt to find something that A)Didn't have a princess on it, B)Wasn't made for an infant or a preteen, and C)Was actually included in the semi-annual sale. After deciding against a Buzz Lightyear telescoping sword and Incredibles' roller skates because they seemed like a sure trip to the ER, I bought the shoes. What did I actually get? Well, um...a trip to the ER.

It began innocent enough. I broke (pun actually is intended) out the shoes Monday afternoon as a reward for picking up his toys without being told for several days in a row. As he stomped around excitedly in the velcro-laden contraptions, I didn't have a worry in the world. I felt only a warm, motherly sense of accomplishment...I was protecting my child's feet from the elements and making him happy at the same time. A few hours and one tumble later while looking at my son's swollen ankle, it felt more like a cold sense of motherly failure. Hmmm, that sword with the cool telescoping action is looking pretty good right now. At least a Grade 1 concussion only lasts about 15 minutes.

Well, the 4 hour trip to the Emergency Room consisted of X-rays and a splint. The last 4 days have consisted of a frustrated toddler who wants to run and jump and a frustrated mom who also wants to run (away) and jump (off a bridge). Okay, the last part was a joke, but seriously, my left arm is about to fall off due to lugging my 30 pound child in it while I care for a 4 and 5 year old with the other. Well, it has gotten my creative juices flowing and I have said all this to announce that my next book will be entitled "101 Ways to Make Your Toddler Stay Seated and Happy" with chapters like "How to Integrate Pieces From 3 Different Puzzles to Make Your Self-Portrait" and "Snacks: How to Make Them Last for Hours". We will be selling them in all Pediatric Radiology Departments :)

Ethan is doing great and believe it or not, so am I! Hallie and Marshall have been so sweet and helpful. I love these kids!

Decoration Day

Just a poem I wrote about this southern ritual:

First published June, 2002..

Decoration Day dawns like any other
May day in Alabama. Strange…It seems
Those occupying space between reality
and its twisted sisters in some foreign,
yet detectable dimension would have
some perceived power over such events..
Their allegiance unknown, yet suspected
To fall with us, such stupid fools as those
Who go to make beautiful that which we
Fear and forget three hundred sixty four
Days a year…
So in the name of respect we take the
Floral tokens of our love to those who
Cannot see them except for what they are…
Death masquerading as beauty and doing
A damn good job, we lay our bribe at the feet
Of our precious protectors who slumber.
Trying to disguise what is waiting for us
Below the ground that is not so hard as
We think, the barrier between us softer
than we realize. Or are we merely planting
our garden in the most fertile ground we
can find; the only sowing that will surely
reap us all, where our ancestors exhale
their muddy regrets below the names we
Carry in our pockets engraved on plastic
That will last much longer than this flesh.
The land promised to us all yet wanted by none.
I put my ear to the crest of the tomb.
What is that stirring beneath the immortal
Stone? Reality or hope imagined?
One day discovery will belong to me.
One day, it will belong to you.

Copyright © 2002 Jana W. Younger

10-28-2004

In 1977 my parents divorced and my mother found herself in the difficult position of having to go back to work with a 3 year old child and a 4 month old baby. She knew she had no choice, but that didn’t make placing her young children in the care of someone else any easier. So, my mom began to pray fervently for an answer. Ovada Carr was the head of the nursery at our church. She was kind, gentle and understood small children in a way that made her irresistible to them. Every Sunday morning she would be in there, rocking other people’s babies so they could hear the sermon. So, it was only natural that she came to mind when my mom was thinking of her options. You see, my mom didn’t just want someone to see that our needs were met and that we were unharmed. She wanted someone who would love us, nurture us, and in effect mother us. So, even though it was unlikely that someone who was already so dedicated to children would want to keep 2 more 30 hours a week, she decided to ask her anyway…so she did. Ovada said she was flattered that she thought of her and that she would think about it. I don’t think my mom was very hopeful that she would answer in the affirmative, but she prayed that she would. Well, as you may have already guessed, she did and thus began my relationship with the first people, other than my family, that I loved…and boy did I ever. Of course love is not a tangible thing, but there is one object that is the perfect evidence of my devotion to these people. It was just an ordinary Olan Mills picture in a little gold frame, but to my little 1 year old hands it was the perfect piece of love for me to hold on to. I carried it around with me so much that over the years, it became practically unrecognizable, but I never forgot who it was. How could I? You never forget someone who feeds you, changes you, plays with you, helps you learn to walk, lets you help in the garden, sits next to you while you attempt to “fish” in a ditch, fixes you honey with just the right amount of lemon juice, buys you your first tricycle and bicycle and is there for every birthday, Christmas, Halloween and every other major life event? No, I will never forget Ovada and Willard Carr, not only for the 4 years that they cared for me as a small child, but also for the part they played in my life long after that. I will always love them both not just as family, but as the closest kind there is.

Ovada passed from us this Thursday morning, October 28th. I know heaven is a better place, but this earth is less without her and this earth is where I am right now.

I miss you and love you.

Jana

Yeah...what he said! 

Henry sure had a way with words... 

Finding Nemo in a Haystack

Ahhh...the excitement threshold of a toddler. Wouldn't it be great to achieve nirvana over the sighting of an orange and white fish? Well, it's just as much fun (maybe more) seeing your little boy get there.
We had originally planned an extended family vacation to the Gulf of Mexico this weekend. However, Ivan had other plans. After logging on to weather.com every five minutes and searching for a reason to hope, we finally decided to change direction and head north to Chattanooga, Tennessee. A much shorter ride in the car and essentially a much shorter duration of "100 Best Loved Kids Songs" was a nice way to start. We arrived just in time to visit the Tennessee Aquarium where we all had a blast watching Ethan recite the entire script of "Finding Nemo". No, really...I'm serious.
Today we went to the Tennessee Valley Railway. It was a very cool exhibit. We even got to ride in a vintage 1930's train. Once again, Ethan was in heaven. Donning an engineer's cap, he entertained everyone with his reenactment of his favorite "Thomas the Tank Engine" stories. I have to admit, and I know I am a little biased, but he is the cutest, smartest, sweetest, most precious little boy I have ever seen. Our trip comes to an end tomorrow, but it has been a welcome retreat from reality. I will, however, be ecstatic to see Hallie (my 4 year old daughter) tomorrow. It just hasn't been the same without her!