Category Archives: Family Times

April 23, 2014 · 11:05 pm

Eye Appointment Findings

Today, Mom and I went to Cincinnati for my ophthalmologist appointment. I was super excited this past November at my last check up that I could extend my next appointment from 4 months to 6 months, as my optic nerves had been very stable and doing well. Three months later, the end of February, I started noticing blurred vision in the farthest corner of my left peripheral vision; random days of blurriness in my vision began in both eyes by mid-March; by the first of April it was consistent.

Considering the extent of my disease, this probably is not the best way to go about living everyday, if and when, I am feeling or “seeing” new changes. But oftentimes, I give the changes a fair chance to prove they are significant changes before I mention anything, because some changes are not worth a huge fuss over. However, if I feel the changes are a major issue or I am concerned right at the start, I will talk to my parents and make them aware. Just depends.

In this case, I only mentioned something about my left peripheral vision when I announced my driving decision. At that point in time, I did not think the hazy blur would change and would just show, at most, as more blind spot on my visual field test in May. But when the blurred haze started becoming more frequent, I also noticed it was affecting the ways my eyes react to light and focusing–ultimately, balance and lip-reading as well.

By now, I am not sure if I had so much mentioned the problem to my parents, but I know I did a bit of gripping about my vision frustrations–and besides that, I would take off my glasses to read, as I can’t focus fully without major squinting when wearing them. First time Dad saw me in this manner, he sort of gave me that shock look (“What are you doing?”)…”I read better without my glasses on,” I tell him. Reading without my glasses or else squinting profusely are now a pretty normal sight to see.

My parents are notorious at knowing my disease (a whole lot better than myself, how ironic) and when I finally explained my eye problems in full-length, analogical descriptions, several possibilities were discussed: maybe I just needed new glasses or bifocals; it could be my optic nerves, but it didn’t seem to quite fit as I have had that experience previously; or it could be cataracts, as long-term use of the steroids can cause an increase in this area. Keeping all these in mind, I wrote my blog update very vague, because even details to me were not worth trying to figure out on my own–leads to worry anyway.

And so today, we learned a few things: 1) By the way I was holding my punch button while taking the visual field tests, it was proof that I did not grow up playing Mario Brothers. And I mentioned this to the lab technician as we started the right eye test for a second time, (haha).  2) My visual field tests and optic nerves are actually around the same results as they were in November. Stable results are joyous thoughts of thankfulness! I am so glad it is not my optic nerves! 3) Thus, the cause and problem is cataracts. I see a surgeon specialist, highly recommended by my ophthalmologist, on May 14th where we will discuss what comes next. For now, it is back to waiting in the blur, without worry.

So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

2 Corinthians 4:18, NIV

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April 21, 2014 · 10:36 pm

Sounds of the Soul

Something’s missing.

That is how I have felt these past few weeks. I don’t have to embark on a search party to find what I am missing, because I feel it deep down. Deep in the soul. I know what it is: it is music.

I think the feeling of void came flooding back when I was making a short list of important songs for my parents before they left for their trip. One song being an old favorite by rock band Petra, I spent a few hours one evening between email replies singing to oldies by watching music videos. I admit–I even watched my boy band. Yes, this is extreme music voidness if you find yourself reliving those junior high obsession heart-throb days. But there was no turning back; Plus One’s hit is forever, “Written on My Heart.” 😉

And so Easter morning arrives…yesterday was gorgeous. The sun shining as if radiating glory and proclaiming, “He’s Alive!” Not that Easter morning has to be sunny. Jesus is very much alive today as He was yesterday or will be tomorrow. That is the hope and joy of Easter. (Hebrews 13:8.) But the sun made it extra special to say the least and I was excited for worship that drive to church.

My excitement wore off as we started singing. I only knew two songs. Sure, I could read the lyrics on the power-point and could make-up tunes of how I thought the song sounded based on the tempo I was lip-reading (a bit fun, almost like imagining character voices in your head when reading books), but it is not the same. The void came crashing back and instead of Easter joys, my mind started meddling with self-pity.

The sermon starts and I am not getting much out of it, because there was no sermon notes left in the foyer, nor did they use the power-point unlike usual Sundays. My eyes are not lip-reading well that far from the pulpit, so I start thinking of music and my favorite Easter songs, such as “He’s Alive” by Don Francisco. Then in almost in demanding anger, I say in my head, “I want to hear music!” The music void.

I sit and think. Then it dawns on me, like the morning sunlight: My ears are dead and useless to me now, but one day, they will hear again. And what a sound it will be!!!

 

 

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April 18, 2014 · 12:52 am

A “Pick-Me-Uppy”

During my parents ten-day absence, my Lifeline was set so in the case I fell, triggering the sensor or needed help, thus personally pressing the button–if no one answered with the communicator over the intercom, the Lifeline representative would automatically dispatch emergency personnel instead of calling my parents cell phones, which is usually the prior action in normal circumstances when they are home.

Knowing this, I took extreme extra caution as to my watching my balance (although I could not fully control that aspect) when standing up from sitting at the table or the times of bending over to retrieve something off the floor. I also made certain that I tried my best not to accidentally bump my necklace and set off the sensor without my knowledge. Last thing I wanted was for an emergency squad to come barging in finding me perfectly normal or otherwise startled by their presence. I only had to concern myself with this thinking when I was home alone.

I had an immense!! coverage of helping, encouraging, loving, giving hands during this time. Actually, it is not something new; I just felt the impact of everyone’s generosity and concern more being here alone. And I am grateful…so blessed. There were hot evening meals, invites to get coffee or help me with errands, if needed; there were those who offered to be “backup” plans just in case and one to be available to help with outdoor needs, such as in the event we got snow. I got texts and emails from friends out-of-state making sure I was doing well and had the chance to make a few Skype video chats and call my grandpa as well. The week was anything but the dull-drums! 🙂

Because I do need more help these days–and just for a safety factor–we did ask two girls my age to help me on a regular basis. One came for a few hours in the afternoon and the other stayed with me late evening until mid-morning. They helped me get to the basement so I could paint, walk to get the mail or take me for errands/church; dishes, folding laundry, cleaning Muffy’s kitty litter and taking out the trash; even getting my compression stocking on in the morning! Things I can no longer do well or if at all on my own. Marcia was around often too, but it was nice not to lay all responsibility on her shoulders; my family does so much already.

However, it was Marcia who saved me from a Lifeline emergency squad experience. The day after my parents left, my friend had invited me over to her house to be with her family and stay for dinner. I had roughly about an hour between my evening helper leaving for the day and my friend coming. I finished getting ready and then decided that I had enough time to quickly check my email. I pushed my walker into the study room to use my parent’s computer as it was more convenient (or so I thought.) I parked my walker to the right of the office chair and was in the process of swiveling the chair around so I could sit when my shoe hit the floor mat and sent me off-balance.

I blurt out, “AH!” and since the chair is also moving, I have no composure–only the downward decent to the floor. Now keep in mind this all happens so quickly, as like my thoughts–and as my head is swarming with perceivable outcomes (emergency personnel, being stuck on the floor, my friend coming), I suddenly feel a pair of strong arms trying to ease or prevent the rest of my fall to the floor. I am Deaf and my position to the computer left me with my back facing the study room door; plus I was home alone two minutes prior.

One would think that this would have at least startled me or caused another blurtation, “AH!”–but instead I am thinking thoughts of an angel. I finally land on the floor sort of siting awkwardly cross-legged and see a whiff of hair out of my right peripheral vision. I tilt my head up and see Marcia’s smiling yet concerned face peering down at me. “Oh! Hello!”…the first words out of my mouth. The Lifeline sensor finally sets off the intercom; Marcia goes to correspond with the representative and then returns to help me off the floor. I would say “impeccable timing,” but my friend that evening declared, “Hand of Providence!” Indeed, it was.

“Thank you.” The two-worded phrase doesn’t seem to circumference the gratitude I have for all that is bestowed…whether in meeting my physical needs or upholding my name in daily prayers. To each of you–may you be richly blessed. ❤

—

You Tube video: (you can click on the song title to be directed o the page)

“More Than You’ll Ever Know.” Watermark. All Things New. Rocketown Records, 2000.

 

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April 16, 2014 · 11:40 am

Pride and Humility

“Oh, the things you used to complain about,” I tell myself as I rummage through a stack of folded clothes on my closet shelf trying to find a pair of cozy sweatpants. It was getting later in the evening and if I hadn’t already thought the rest of my day had been a frustrating one, I did even more so at that moment. The unexpected sick intestines always forces one to extreme humility. Learning humility is not a glorious experience. Yesterday was just one of those days.

My parents just returned Monday evening from their special anniversary trip. During their absence, I had an abundance of help, but also had times when I was alone. I thought I did pretty good for myself, considering everything. I even boasted, “I’m so proud of myself,” and would continue to tell why this was so.

Growing up, we sisters liked to watch the Kevin Sullivan televised movies, Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea. I am surprised those VHS tapes lasted (better still that my parents still have them!) One of my favorite characters is Mrs. Rachel Lynde–always in the gossips and people’s business, or as Marilla Cuthbert would say, “meddling in other’s affairs.” This would draw a sharp gasp from Mrs. Lynde as if she were offended by such an accusation, though it never took her long to get right back to her normal self– “You know I pride myself in speaking my mind.” In her eyes she was never at total fault for her disputes with Anne and offered sound guidance to any ear listening, which usually was Marilla. “You know what they say Marilla: ‘Pride goes before the fall;'” Anne had just left for Diana’s pre-wedding b0nfire party, thus leaving the two old friends in the kitchen. Marilla is at the stove retrieving the water kettle, back turned to Mrs. Lynde, she semi-rolls her eyes before turning around and patiently replies to her friend. An act of humbleness.

I don’t think yesterday was an example of a “Pride goes before the fall” moment, rather, I believe God used it to show me Jesus. You see, as I was fumbling around trying to change clothes and make myself cozy, Mom was on her hands and knees cleaning up in my bathroom, because I physically can’t myself; even my “help” at the end didn’t account too much. When crisis happens, I am not abandoned, but surrounded with helping hands. Yesterday, though not a glorious day, was my humble reminder.

But Jesus, even after showing His Love to His disciple’s by getting down on His hands and knees to wash their feet, was abandoned by all in His greatest time of need. Mocked, beaten, betrayed and death–it was then that his disciples, in confusion, thought they had been abandoned. Shocked and morning His death, they didn’t understand..not until later when the Truth appeared to them–Jesus was alive! The Easter story is not about abandonment but salvation–surrounded by Christ’s Love and held in the nail-scarred hands.

But may it never be that I would boast, except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, through which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world. 

Galatians 6:14, NASB

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April 2, 2014 · 9:15 am

Standing Still

Please read: this is not a post to stir controversy, point fingers in blame or have any affiliation with political parties; it is not my intention to come across in a complaining “woe to me” status or even use this post to vent personal opinions on the subject at hand.

This post is about me and my disease; how curve balls thrown at you in life don’t hit the gutter as they usually do in bowling lanes–but hit you straight on, leaving a knockout of confusion and frustration. Leaving no answers. You know my story: my body is changing, becoming more dependent on others. And as my body continues to change, so does everything else–medicines, insurances and provider policies, and the like. It affects me. It affects my family (my parents as they are my ears on the phone and the brains as we read the paperwork during these situations.) But even my parents don’t understand everything.

“Living with a handicap is not simple,” I said as Mom positioned herself in the driver’s seat after just placing my walker in the trunk for what seemed to be about the thousandth time. The reality is that anyone can say this about life: it is not simple and changes are not easy. You don’t have to face life-threatening or long-term illnesses to affirm this. Speed bumps come in everyone’s life–different time, circumstances. Some we see as we draw near, allowing us to prepare and take caution. Yet others take us by surprise, shock and confusion as they appear to come out of nowhere.

Last week, my life hit a large speed bump. Unexpected, as I am in the midst of changing health insurances due to age, I find I have been dropped from another; Frustrating, there was no warning, no official papers. Confusion at this critical time. And still, as I slowly go over this bump, what seems to be a total mess (which it is)…God is supplying the persons and resources necessary to meet my need. I could not have planned this course, nor do I understand it either. It is a God Room speed bump. His ways are best.

Stand and watch, but do not fight the battle. There, you will watch the Eternal save you, Judah and Jerusalem. Do not fear or worry. Tomorrow, face the army and trust that the Eternal is with you.

2 Chronicles 20:17 (The Voice)

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March 16, 2014 · 11:31 pm

In the Storm

I’m just going to be honest here…this weekend has been rough. Like a sea of emotions, mixing memories of the past with the present times and having to face the reality of potential changes in the near future. Collide them together and the waves crash into the boat. And it feels as though I have been thrown overboard and I get physically sick. Weak and vulnerable, I feel my courage start to fade.

I am in the middle of the storm. A voice calls out,”Take courage! It is I. Do not be afraid.” (Matthew 14: 22-33)

He bids me come…but I am fearful of the waters, the waves–I am fearful of letting go of the sinking ship that is currently keeping me afloat. I must decide. Do I wait until the boat is no more or do I release my grip while it is still in sight? The decision is mine. How long I remain at stalemate is unknown.

Yet in the storm, I see Him waiting. He has not abandoned me. I cry out; I plead for strength, discernment, hope.

Reach down for me, True God; deliver me.
The waters have risen to my neck; I am going down!
My feet are swallowed in this murky bog;
I am sinking—there is no sturdy ground.
I am in the deep;
the floods are crashing in!
I am weary of howling;
my throat is scratched dry.

But, Eternal One, I just pray the time is right
that You would hear me. And, True God,
because You are enduring love, that You would answer.
In Your faithfulness, please, save me.

Psalm 69: 1-3, 13 (The Voice)

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March 12, 2014 · 4:50 pm

Beauty Sleep

I always thought the phrase, “Beauty sleep” was a figure of speech. That is, until I experienced beauty sleep first hand. Beauty sleep is real.

Now, what I am about to tell you may come to you as a shock. You may find it unbelievable or just plain weird; I doubt this scenario ever reaches Psychology 101 classes. If it did, I would love to participate in the discussion. However, since it is just me and you, I want to offer a little pre-reading advice: after seeing my family’s reaction as my story unfolded the morning after my beauty sleep, I highly suggest that if your mouth is full of food or liquids that you first swallow before continuing to read. I’ll wait… (pause)

Like most stories with a good plot, the reader benefits from learning about the character’s setting and pre-existing events that might factor in as the story progresses. A general synopsis of myself: I drink 2 cups of coffee in the morning and herbal tea in the evening; I just renewed my gym pass and Thursday walked a half mile around the indoor track, resulting in the realization that I am very out of shape and it is harder to hold my neck in good posture. Friday, we embarked on a whole day out visiting various shops in an outlet mall for some necessities and a day of being together. I walked the whole day (with my walker) and by the time we grabbed Chipotle for dinner, I was so hungry, but almost too tired to eat. I am not sorry for overdoing myself though as it was one of the best times out that I have had in a long time.

Saturday morning, we left for the Victoria Theatre in Dayton as we attended a lightwire production of The Ugly Duckling by Hans Christian Anderson and a modern twist to Aesop’s The Tortoise and the Hare. As evening gave way, we set our clocks forward an hour for Daylight Savings and Sunday morning seemed to arrive too quickly. I didn’t have time for my first cup of coffee before leaving for church and just planned on having it when I returned home again. After church, I had a few errands to run on that side of town, so I ended up coming home around noon. Deciding Sweet tea would taste better with our tuna lunch, I then went the whole rest of the day with only one other cup of hot Vanilla Almond black tea. As midnight rolled around, I finally concluded my weekend and headed to bed most exhausted.

It is all hazy memory from that point on until 9am Monday morning. I can’t tell you much details. I don’t know what my intentions were, what time in the morning it actually was (I am guessing around 3am or so), or how long I was in beauty land. One thing’s for sure–I am quite talented in my sleep. Yes, beauty sleep. And if you need me to enhance the already laughable tale…let me tell what I remember. I was standing at my bathroom sink. I had my powdered foundation in my left hand and had somehow managed to retrieve the circular pad from the bottom of the foundation container but it had dropped in the sink. I remember seeing the sink, but thinking the pad is on top of the foundation, so I start trying to “grab hold” of it. Frustrated at my hands, I start digging my fingers into the foundation, but then realize the pad is not there. I am not sure what happens in my train of thought after this, but I do manage to get the pad from the sink and swipe it on the foundation. It was as if I was explaining to someone how to smoothly apply your makeup, because I was saying something as I started applying the powder to my face. It was then that I broke into a better state of consciousness.

I put down my foundation and sort of mumbled, “What am I doing?” and then giggled as I turned to leave the bathroom and back to bed. I didn’t get up again (at least to my knowledge) until 9am. I didn’t get up thinking or even remembering beauty land, until I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth. My counter-top was messy with my makeup sprawled out and powdered foundation remains near the sink. You need evidence? My foundation bears trench lines where I had aimed to retrieve the powdered foundation pad but to no avail. Best part is when I opened the middle-cupboard drawer to put my makeup back in my makeup bag, I found it full of non-makeup items, one being a travel sized Vaseline container. I have no memory of any kind in this re-shifting/organizing process. As I get everything back in order, I try to think of a plausible explanation. I come to none but laughter.

Extreme physical fatigue, Daylight Savings and lack of my normal caffeine levels are all intermingled in this strange experience…although a higher emphasis in the caffeine withdraw is most probable. I also wondered why my makeup? I only wear mascara anymore, and it is usually only on the days I am headed out around town or other occasions. Even mascara takes me long to apply, so I just have gone back to a natural, no makeup face and have had no regrets. I have only kept my makeup otherwise for very special occasions, such as weddings or upcoming graduation ceremonies. I suppose I will never know or understand–not that it matters–but one thing’s for certain: “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,”regardless of whether or not you are fully awake.

For this reason it says, “Awake, sleeper, And arise from the dead, And Christ will shine on you.”

Ephesians 5:14, NASB

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March 11, 2014 · 11:59 pm

When You Give

In the second grade, I was in Mrs. Brumfield’s class. There are a few special memories I think of when remembering Mrs. Brumfield and her class: She always wore bright red lipstick and because she used my personal book, Abel’s Island, to read to the class for our afternoon reading time, I have a smudge of that red lipstick in the front cover of my book. It still remains one of my favorite children novels. Our circular building held classrooms divided like a pie and our door faced the playground–I especially liked the monkey bars, so much that I gave my palms blisters; but once my name was written on the chalkboard and I had to stay in from recess.

Mrs. Brumfield’s favorite type of animals were pigs. We even made “pigs” using pantyhose stuffed with pillow cotton and after we tied off the curly tail, we hot-glued on felt ears and sewed buttons for the eyes. My pig has pink ears and purple buttoned eyes…and it is in my special box. On our birthday, we got to make a chart using pictures from home to tell the class a bit about our favorite things and about our family. A family member was invited to attend and sit with us up front, but because neither mom nor dad could attend mine, Mrs. Brumfield allowed my best friend at the time, Stephanie, to sit with me.

At the end of the day, there were two dismissal bells for the bus shifts. Because I left on the second bell, this allowed me ten extra minutes of reading time…as we always ended the day with quiet reading in our own “corners or desks areas.” Being a book nerd from an early age, I took this time seriously and never wanted to leave class at the second bell if I was in mid-sentence. And Mrs. Brumfield gave us a take home assignment, but it was “fun” homework: when it was our turn, we took home a large Ziplock bag containing a book, entry log, and a stuffed animal of a mouse in overalls holding by Velcro–a chocolate chip cookie. Our assignment was to log our different activities of what we did with our new pal. Mom tried to find a few educational activities. 🙂 The hardest part was keeping track of the cookie! The book:

if_you_give_a_mouse_cookie

If you have read either this book or the other, If You Give a Moose a Muffin, the overall concept of the story is the same: you give and they keep asking for more–eventually circulating back around to what was initially given.

Recently, my parents went on an extended weekend vacation back to Colorado. It was not initially the reason why we set the Lifeline for use, but it was planned to have that established before their trip for safety reasons. My weekend was not much different from others. I had a few appointments already set, tasks I needed to accomplish and had some sister chat times. I carried out my days like usual routine–my own breakfasts and lunches. Several ladies from my parent’s Sunday school class signed up to deliver hot meals for my dinners. I cannot tell you how much that was appreciated!! A few ladies contacted me just to see how I was doing and if I needed anything. Genuine kindness.

Mom did ask a girl from town around my age to come in the evenings to spend the night (mainly for my Lifeline factor), but also to help take out trash, clean Muffy’s kitty litter, help with dishes and anything else I might need. We decided this was best in their absence–she came in around 10pm and left in the mid-mornings for her other duties and jobs. It worked nicely and since the Olympics were still being covered in Primetime, I usually was in the basement at the end of the day relaxing and working on a friend’s late Christmas present while watching the Games.

I really cherished the weekend, but also saw how much I possibly take for granted within my family all the extra help they give so selflessly. Miriam would ask if I needed help with anything else before going to bed herself and unless it was something I just couldn’t do, like unbutton my new sweater so I could wear it the next day, I didn’t initially ask for much assistance. Maybe it was embarrassment, maybe pride. Maybe I am used to my family seeing me struggle, like when I try to pick up medicines that have fallen to the floor, and they just come to the rescue without my asking. Or often, maybe I am just tired of asking for people to give their time and help–as I turn more dependent, I am becoming stubborn and wanting to still do things on my own. How do I balance between the two? It is something I am still in process of learning.

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March 3, 2014 · 11:59 pm

My Latest Days

Oxymoron: (from the Greek),

an expression with contradictory words: a phrase in which two words of contradictory meaning are used together for special effect

(Bing Dictionary)

“Are you ready to sleep in and enjoy your first day of Spring break tomorrow?” It’s Friday night and we are driving home from a spur of the moment decision a few hours earlier to go out to eat as a family and attend a Nicole Noredeman concert. The fast food dinner, Piada: Italian Street Food, was a new experience and a most tasty one! My main reason for going out that evening was simply dinner with family; I had initial thoughts of not going, but quickly resolved that I could read a few chapters in my book when the others enjoyed the concert session. The concert being at a church, I sat reading in the foyer and got to text my sister, Megan, as well. An evening satisfactory to all.

My question on the drive home was at a red light; there was enough street lights glowing for me to lip read. Marcia slightly nods but adds, “I think I would rather have a full day of doing nothing than sleeping in all day.” I nod in agreement, but as the fullness of her sentence replays in my brain, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing! “Do you realize that what you just said is a huge oxymoron!!” I continue to rant in laughter about this sentence and we discuss it for a few more minutes until it is dark again. The rest of the drive home, I sit in silence.

“A full day of doing nothing.” Right now, my days sometimes feel like this. It is not that I am actually “doing nothing” all day–more what I am doing is nothing planned on my agenda. I am notorious for daily to do lists…there are days when I see great progress and check marks on the sheet of paper; other days, I simply cross off the current ‘day” and set the next in hopes to complete the projects then. I don’t think it is necessarily bad to make lists (I would forget important events/dates/details otherwise), but it has also taken me a few years to learn to become flexible. I am still learning to be flexible. And so, my latest days have been filled with being flexible and “doing nothing” on my to do lists.

Take today for example. I was hoping to get up early and have my usual breakfast with coffee/readings. My list entitled doing the dishes and getting my laundry done; making a phone call to my grandparents; finishing a painting; writing a blog post (different one than this); and finishing a book. Actual day included rising early–nothing like a Charlie horse cramp in your right leg for an alarm clock–and falling out of bed, because I had put my right foot forward in attempts to get to the bathroom. You hear people talk of starting your day by getting out on “the right side of bed” (figurative); since I already have that part complete (literally), I say, “Start your day with your best foot forward.” Obviously for me, it is my left foot.

I contemplated getting ready for the day and having my coffee time early. Instead, I crawled back in bed figuring I can read a little; if I fall asleep, I assumed that I would wake in an hour or so and be back on my feet around 9am, as that is pretty typical. I end up waking four hours later..bummed that I had wasted my morning hours, I get brunch and coffee anyway. I get ready for the day, type a few emails and run some errands in town with Mom in the mid-afternoon. When we returned, I had about an hour before I was to have a Skype session and so I started my laundry.

My Skype chat was to be with a group of girls from the University of Cincinnati DAAP about my artwork. A social worker from Children’s Hospital–who was the first person to initiate my paintings as part of an art viewing when I first moved here-had given my name and contact to this group, “Art for Survivors,” led by Jenny Ustick. Since I cannot make the actual class in physical presence, Jenny suggested Skype.  I brought up some paintings from the basement to show and ask my questions. My session was set with three students of Jenny, who were familiar with my painting styles through my blog. It was a great conversation! I asked my questions on how to thicken my paint for texture, abstract ideas, different brush sizes for different techniques, and pricing artwork. They gave me some suggestions for new abstract techniques and will gather some painting medium information for me as well. Towards the end, art shows were mentioned and I was invited to take part in their art viewing in April.

Suddenly, my “full day of doing nothing” turned into an evening of full possibilities! I am ready to restart my paintings–growing and learning in the process; living in flexibility. “Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men.” Colossians 3:23

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February 27, 2014 · 2:14 pm

I didn’t finish…

I have to admit that while I am a Summer Olympic Games fanatic, the Winter Olympic Games definitely have a few personal highlights: figure skating, luge, curling (which was never aired this year at normal hours; I could never get myself out of bed at 3:30am to watch the event…sad) and a new fascination for Slopestyle skiing. Not being naturally talented at any of these, or any other events for that matter, my most common response while watching the performances went as such: “That’s INSANE!” Yes, pretty much insane, but this is what these athletes train for–the dream, the passion, the Olympic moment.

During these games, I realized that I sympathized with the athletes who had a hard time performing in their events–not being able to land their jumps and twists, coming in a split second short of being on the medal podium, the emotions of personal background stories of their own family losses…these moments remind you that even the greatest athletes are human. And while there were many memorable moments to celebrate in outstanding performance victories, I believe the greatest victories were evident from the athletes who struggled. They fell down, yet picked themselves up to finish their performance. It showed true determination. True victory.

I was most impressed by the figure skating performances. Now, I have a hard enough time standing and balancing on my own two feet as it is…so if shoes consist of having attached blades, wheels or anything that causes movement–such as skis or snowboards–I don’t touch them. But this was not always the case. Growing up, I did enjoy skiing (I learned to ski at age six and skied through high school years), a little snowboarding (until mid-college days when my balance turned for worse), rollerblading, ice skating (we had a frozen pond out in the back field or we used the ditch across the road), and roller skating (except the last memory, in which I took a fall at the YMCA center leaving me unable to get up on my own and a trip to the ER: thus, it confirmed that my days of moving feet business were over!)

ice skating

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Being somewhat a helpless romantic when it comes to either ballet or figure skating–and maybe combination that this Olympics, due to deafness, I couldn’t hear the figure skating music–I started to think of songs that I would perform my routines to in the event that I was a figure skater. For a short program, because judges score on technical activity, I thought fun songs, such as “I have Confidence” from the Sound of Music or “Linus and Lucy” from The Peanuts would be lively. And the long, free skate program: “Moonlight Sonata” by Beethoven! It is a deep emotional song…a performance could be so lavishing.

I did perform “Moonlight Sonata” my senior year of high school; not in a free skate performance, but for my senior piano recital. I had been playing piano since the first grade. I had memorized pieces of Bach and Beethoven in the past, but “Moonlight Sonata” was my last. I memorized the music, practiced until I felt secure in the music, and set out for my performance. I am not one for audiences. I tried to calm my nerves. The piano faced the wall. I was staring in white. I started to play with shaking hands.  “Moonlight Sonata ” is not a fast tempo music. It is a slow tempo…deep emotions. I let my mind wander for a split second in which I lost my concentration. My mind went as blank and white as the wall I faced.

I stop and turn to the audience. “I need to start over.” I get nice reassuring smiles. By now I cannot get my mind and thoughts to relax. I restart the piece, but struggle in mid-way…again my mind goes blank. I feel a flush flow to my face turning my cheeks red and stinging tears about to drop from my eyes. To avoid crying on stage, I simply get up from the bench, take a slight bow, and return to my seat. My dad whispers, “Don’t cry. They are going to take group pictures,” and gently puts his arm around my shoulders. Too late. Tears abound. No one mentioned my performance. People understood. But I held it against myself: I didn’t finish.

There are days when I ask God how I am to finish the task set before me, when I feel as if my physical body simply is just staring into a blank white wall. Circumstances seem too difficult, uncertainties leave room for doubts and questions of my abilities. I still struggle with wanting to be doing bigger things, but was reminded graciously that if I am faithful in the small, God will reward with more when I am ready. Olympians are not made overnight. They train in the small daily tasks for years…with the reward of a bigger performance than they ever imagined.

The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not winning but taking part; the essential thing in life is not conquering but fighting well.

~Pierre Coubertin, founder of the International Olympic Committee; “Father of modern Olympic Games.”

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