May 26, 2012

I've learned that grandchildren grow up. They grow up really fast. Much faster than their parents (APoG - Adult Parent of a Grandchild) did. Once a grandchild is born, there is some sort of time warp that goes into effect, and from then on, it's like a blur before your eyes.

Today our oldest grandchild, Justin, turned 15 years and 6 months old - and we all know what that age means in many states of the U.S. - driver's permit. It that wasn't enough, our second oldest grandson, Zach, went off to church camp this morning - alone.

Whoever decided that a child was ready to be in control of a 4000lb metal - ok, plastic - object, that can travel down a completely loaded 6-lane highway at 65mph. It obviously was not a grandparent. But his APoG's seem to think it's OK that he get his driving permit now. Well, not right now, because it's Saturday - of a 3-day weekend -- days that DMV are closed -- hee hee. So I say, as long as he has to wait until Tuesday morning, three whole days, he may as well just wait until he's.. oh, say voting age  -- or maybe 35.

Camp! What APoG sends a little boy who isn't even 9 years old yet off to camp, 100 miles away! Why, are there even any adults along -- I mean real adults, say over 30 for instance. Do those counselors even know how to take care of kids, and know what it means to insure their safety? What if they're on their cell phones or have an iPod in their ears, and forget there are kids there to watch? Did anyone check that bus driver's credentials?

God has such a sense of humor, to put these two big events on the same date. He must think I'm strong to endure such trepidation. He must know how much I trust Him. I can just see Him now, leaning back on His big throne, a smile on His face, His arms crossed across His chest, nodding His head... 'Yep, there's my favorite daughter, trusting me again. She's got it! And I've got those boys.'

Driving means freedom. I can still remember how good it felt, maybe a little surreal. My first drive alone was to church. I just remembered that. That has an interesting meaning to me today - almost 43 years later.

Camp - The time of my life! I could have lived at camp and been perfectly content -- well, except for the creepy showers they always had. Between ages 8 and 19, I only  missed camp once, the year our family came to Arizona on vacation when I was 11. Camp was so fun, so free. God always met us there - ALWAYS. When we lived in Illinois, He was always there at the camps in Wisconsin. Then when we moved to Arizona, He was always there up in Williams.

Those APoG's I mentioned earlier started going to camp when they were 8 too. They loved it like I did. They also started driving as teenagers. They liked that too.

Papa God and I are just smiling at each other right now -- you'll have to excuse us for a moment.

LOL With God

I went to my first Vestibular Therapy (vertigo) appointment this morning -- which had been delayed for close to a month now for one reason or the other. For instance, I had a hair appointment (first things first), the physical therapy place directed me to the wrong office, where they don't do VT, my appointment there 'vanished' from their records, they didn't have the Rx from the ENT. But I finally got there - this morning. I was told Elaine would be working on me, and she was great.

But when I got there this morning, I met with a male therapist. Wait... they said Elaine was great, what if this guy isn't great. What if he isn't even good. This isn't just a few leg raises and 10 minutes on the bicycle. This is where they twist your head around and make your eyes roll around in their sockets. Elaine knows what she's doing.

He tells me he's going to assess my vertigo before I start on the regular PT (the stuff I've been doing at the other office for my low back and hip pain). He's going to assess me?? I was counting on Elaine doing that - because she's good! I tell him I've had it for about 10 years, that it went away about a year or so ago, but then it came back last fall when I went to a conference and after I did some brain exercise thingy hanging my head over the side of the bed.... BUT, let me add one more thing Mr. Physical Therapist Guy, ummm, well, almost two weeks ago you see, I was healed - I believe in that. Now I was waiting for his eyes to roll around in his head. They didn't; he just said, "OK". I go on, so see, I can look up now (see, watch me). I couldn't do that before two weeks ago. He asked if I had any symptoms now. I told him I hadn't for about a week and a half, but then a few days ago a few of them started to come back, but I've been saying, "No!", and it's still way better than it was. I told him, spiritually I didn't understand that, but...

When I finished my hip/back exercises, Mr. PT Guy comes back and he tells me to stand up. He says though I was healed, he can see by the way I hold myself that it is causing the vertigo that remains by putting stress on my back, neck and head -- or something like that. He told me to sit in a chair and he began to work on my neck. He said he's been doing this for 25 years. I wondered if that was more than Elaine had been doing it.

While he was working on my neck, we talked a little. He hangs out at some of the same places I hang out, and listens to some of the same people I listen to. He talked about blending faith and physical therapy. He talked about PT's putting their hands on their patients being rare these days. I laughed a little - out loud - even though nothing was funny. I'm going back tomorrow.

I have to laugh out loud when I think about God and the stuff He does. A few delays in scheduling, a healing, and a physical therapist helping out for a couple of weeks. I am so crazy about you Daddy God!!! Thank you again.     ----Your favorite, Connie