Recently, I was asked to proofread (or "beta" read, as it is called in the ebooks "world") for one of my favorite authors. It was really neat to be able to read a book before everyone else got their hands on it! I'm excited to do it again, and another author came to me to beta read for her, too. She has a very different voice than the first author, so it's really neat to see and read another person's work. She has since sent me a few short stories from her own personal experiences. Some had me in stitches while others had me in tears; I can SO relate to them!
I asked her to take a look at my blog and give me her opinion (good OR bad!) on it. She gave me a really good idea, and a direction to go in.
Stories.
Stories of my family, from my Dad's generation to now. Listen folks, that's a LOT of stories! I could tell the one about the boys shooting the capons, or the one about the boys killing the flowers, or the one about the boys wanting to try out a home made parachute (I just noticed I have stories about mostly the boys, huh?)
Is that what I'm good at? Telling stories? If so, I get that honestly. My Dad is a wonderful storyteller. Strange how the Lord works sometimes, isn't it? I mean, this man, my Daddy, never graduated from high school. He dropped out in the 11th grade. Why? Because he didn't want to get up in front of the class to give an oral book report. Now? He preaches. Oh, he's not an ordained minister, but if you come to the farm and can catch him when he's not running around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to get the beans in or the corn cut, he will talk to you. And he will talk to you. And if he thinks you need it, he will preach to you. He teaches Sunday School class at church, and once a month goes to one of the nursing homes in the area and preaches there for the residents. This man, who was too shy to give a book report. He'll tell you (and I will too) that is ALL from God.
So, I'll start telling stories. Not just on my own children, but try to get family stories written down.
Are you ready for this, Lehman family?
Pokeberry Boys Cover Photo
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
Thursday, August 27, 2015
The Car Accident That Blessed Our Socks Off...Part II
Spending the night in the hospital after a car accident that resulted in a concussion is no fun, especially if you're pregnant. The whole time I was in the ER, the nurse checked the baby's heartbeat numerous times. She even put a little heart shaped sticker on my tummy where she found him so she could always go back to that spot. For the most part, he cooperated and was still enough for her to hear him. When the got me in a room, however, he had had enough! The nurse in the L&D unit got so frustrated with the little stinker at one point that she just gave up. He was obviously moving around a lot, because every time she would catch him he would scoot away! So I got hardly any sleep there, between waking me up every few minutes because of the concussion and trying to hear the baby, I was exhausted when we finally got home!
Let me rewind a little bit here. After the men pulled us out of the car, other people rushed to "duty". Our car landed on it's top in the road, right in between the two driveways of the church. People started to direct traffic through the parking lot so the ambulances could actually get to us and the traffic could keep going. Of the many people that helped us that day, three beautiful souls come to my mind. I don't know their names, perhaps I never will. One of the men introduced himself as a nurse (we found out later that he was actually a Corpsman in the Navy), and another young man introduced himself as an EMT. The other was a beautiful blond lady that was pouring water on my hand while she shook like a leaf. She was trying to wash my hand the best she could without hurting me.
Let me just insert here, how wonderful our God is! These people were put there specifically for my husband and me, that day, at that time; no question in my mind! Not just one medical professional, but two! What's even more miraculous was what we were told by the EMT. He was a young man; usually went to church with his Dad somewhere else, but that day, he just felt that he was supposed to come to church with his Mom. Praise God that he was there!
Ok, back to the story. After I took a long nap, I called Bethel Baptist church to thank them for all their help, and to let them know we were banged up, but ok. The woman that answered the phone sounded very excited to hear from me; she had apparently been getting phone calls all day long asking about us. She was so happy to know that we were ok, and that she could tell people that very thing now. She then asked if there was anything they could do for us. I jokingly said, "well, if you know of anyone selling one, we're in the market for a new-to-us car!"Basically, we had just totaled our car.
Tuesday afternoon, the phone rang. We didn't recognize the number, so we let the answering machine pick it up (wow-this was even before voice mail!) We heard someone saying something about the accident, so Shawn quickly went and answered it. After a few minutes, he got that nervous laugh that I know so well. He kept saying "thank you!" and I could hear the excitement in his voice. When he hung up the phone, he rushed into the living room, put his head in my lap and said, "they want to give us a car!" Wait. What? Surely he didn't say that right. Give us a car?
Apparently there was a young couple a little older than us that had just had a second child. They had already bought a bigger vehicle, but had planned on selling their car. Instead, they decided to gift it to us! I really didn't believe it; not at all.
Shawn did all the arranging; I had to make a surprise trip back to the ER that week for a severe headache. The next Sunday, exactly a week after we wrecked, these angels brought a 1996 Mercury Sable to my parent's house. (We lived in Virginia Beach at the time in a, how shall we say it, rough neighborhood. No place to park a car with no tags!) I think I was still a little in shock, to tell you the truth. Why would someone do this for total strangers? But there it was, free. Ours.
Not only did they give us the car, but they knew it needed new tires to pass inspection by the end of that month. So they put $200 cash in an envelope in the glove compartment so we could buy new tires. The car that was wrecked was a 1995 Ford Taurus. If you know anything about cars, then you'll know that a Ford Taurus and a Mercury Sable are practically the same car. We had just put new tires on the Taurus, and they weren't damaged (remember, we landed upside down?). So we were able to harvest the tires from the Taurus and put them on the Sable. Funny thing, though; it was almost exactly $200 to get the car title changed over and registered to us, because it was a gift.
No. Not a funny thing at all. God's hand was at work.
Let me rewind a little bit here. After the men pulled us out of the car, other people rushed to "duty". Our car landed on it's top in the road, right in between the two driveways of the church. People started to direct traffic through the parking lot so the ambulances could actually get to us and the traffic could keep going. Of the many people that helped us that day, three beautiful souls come to my mind. I don't know their names, perhaps I never will. One of the men introduced himself as a nurse (we found out later that he was actually a Corpsman in the Navy), and another young man introduced himself as an EMT. The other was a beautiful blond lady that was pouring water on my hand while she shook like a leaf. She was trying to wash my hand the best she could without hurting me.
Let me just insert here, how wonderful our God is! These people were put there specifically for my husband and me, that day, at that time; no question in my mind! Not just one medical professional, but two! What's even more miraculous was what we were told by the EMT. He was a young man; usually went to church with his Dad somewhere else, but that day, he just felt that he was supposed to come to church with his Mom. Praise God that he was there!
Ok, back to the story. After I took a long nap, I called Bethel Baptist church to thank them for all their help, and to let them know we were banged up, but ok. The woman that answered the phone sounded very excited to hear from me; she had apparently been getting phone calls all day long asking about us. She was so happy to know that we were ok, and that she could tell people that very thing now. She then asked if there was anything they could do for us. I jokingly said, "well, if you know of anyone selling one, we're in the market for a new-to-us car!"Basically, we had just totaled our car.
Tuesday afternoon, the phone rang. We didn't recognize the number, so we let the answering machine pick it up (wow-this was even before voice mail!) We heard someone saying something about the accident, so Shawn quickly went and answered it. After a few minutes, he got that nervous laugh that I know so well. He kept saying "thank you!" and I could hear the excitement in his voice. When he hung up the phone, he rushed into the living room, put his head in my lap and said, "they want to give us a car!" Wait. What? Surely he didn't say that right. Give us a car?
Apparently there was a young couple a little older than us that had just had a second child. They had already bought a bigger vehicle, but had planned on selling their car. Instead, they decided to gift it to us! I really didn't believe it; not at all.
Shawn did all the arranging; I had to make a surprise trip back to the ER that week for a severe headache. The next Sunday, exactly a week after we wrecked, these angels brought a 1996 Mercury Sable to my parent's house. (We lived in Virginia Beach at the time in a, how shall we say it, rough neighborhood. No place to park a car with no tags!) I think I was still a little in shock, to tell you the truth. Why would someone do this for total strangers? But there it was, free. Ours.
Not only did they give us the car, but they knew it needed new tires to pass inspection by the end of that month. So they put $200 cash in an envelope in the glove compartment so we could buy new tires. The car that was wrecked was a 1995 Ford Taurus. If you know anything about cars, then you'll know that a Ford Taurus and a Mercury Sable are practically the same car. We had just put new tires on the Taurus, and they weren't damaged (remember, we landed upside down?). So we were able to harvest the tires from the Taurus and put them on the Sable. Funny thing, though; it was almost exactly $200 to get the car title changed over and registered to us, because it was a gift.
No. Not a funny thing at all. God's hand was at work.
Wednesday, August 26, 2015
The Car Accident that Blessed our Socks Off
Looking through my blog last night, I realized that I haven't written out my pregnancy stories! Now, I know what you're thinking; "Pregnancy story? She's gonna get bloody and gory, isn't she?" Nope! Well, there is a teeny bit of blood, but not in the way you think. This story starts 6 months before the baby was even born!
Let me set the stage for you:
It was May 16, 2004. (I am freaky with dates like this; don't know why, just always have been.) Shawn and I were young (he was 29, I was 28), youth leaders at the church we attended, and had already gone through a miscarriage the year before in August. I was 16 weeks pregnant, and it was a beautiful, sunny Sunday morning. The day before, we had been with our youth group all day; we picked strawberries, cleaned them and made strawberry syrup out of them. We canned them with the purpose of selling the jars for a fundraiser. Shawn and I were going to church early that Sunday morning: him to teach Sunday school, and me to finish preparing the jars for our customers. (I was going to put pretty ribbons and fabric on the tops, you know? Make them cute.) I had all the orders in a metal cash box in the backseat of the car.
What we had forgotten was this: The bridge was closed that weekend. We lived in Virginia Beach at the time, and traveled over that bridge every time we went to church, or to my parents house, or anything. We had just been at church the day before, and we had remembered that the bridge was closed, so we went the other way, over the other bridge. But Sunday, we remembered too late to go the easy way. By the time we remembered, we had to go down Elbow Road.
For those of you that don't know this area well, Elbow Road is what one might call a death trap. It's a long, winding, narrow road with no shoulder to be seen on either side. Many people have lost their lives in crashes on this road. Shawn had never driven down this road before, nor was he very familiar with the car he was driving, because it was the car I usually drove. So when we went around one corner and he caught the gravel on the non-existent shoulder, that was it. The car fell down into the ditch, we hit a culvert head on, and then the car flipped back up into the road, upside down. We spun around like a top for a minute before coming to a stop, facing the same direction we were traveling, just upside down. We never crossed the center line, and we landed right in between two driveways of the church across the street.
When we stopped moving, I could hear my husband crying out, "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..." over and over. I think he was in shock. For some reason, I was very calm, almost peaceful (I later realized that I had been hit in the head, most likely the console piece where the air bag comes out, but we'll never know for sure) and I remember hearing what I believe to be God speaking to my heart saying "The baby is OK. Get out of the car. Now." You don't need to tell me that twice! The problem was that I was hanging upside down in my seat belt. My right hand had been badly injured (though I didn't really realize it at this time) and I couldn't use it to push myself back into the seat so I could unhook the belt. Shawn was trying to get out, too. His driver's side door was jammed, so he put his seat back to get out the back door. I needed him to help me get out of the seat belt, and by the time he'd done that (and we were both on our hands and knees in glass shards and whatever else <shiver>) men from the church across the street had come and pried his door open and were pulling us out.
At this point, I lost sight of my husband. I knew he was OK; I had seen him walking around. People flocked around me. They walked me a safe distance away from the car and sat me down in a grassy spot. I couldn't figure out why everyone was fussing over me so much. I was pleading with someone to call my parents. They were at church where we were headed by this time. I was hollering out the number to the church (I still have it memorized; I told you, I'm weird that way!) begging for my parents to come. All this time, I remember a beautiful lady with white blonde hair kneeling beside me, using a water bottle to try to wash off my badly mangled hand. She was shaking so badly that I wanted to hold her had to calm her down! When we had started to crash, I had reached out the window to hold onto the roof of the car. My right hand had been crushed between the roof of the car and the asphalt. It was not a pretty thing to look at. One of the men told me that I also had a "pretty big goose egg" forming on my forehead.
By the time the ambulances arrived, my parents had gotten there. They were putting me in the ambulance when I heard my Mom's voice, telling me that Shawn was in the other ambulance and that he was going to Chesapeake General. I asked them to take me there, too, but Chesapeake refused me. I was hurt worse (not to mention PREGNANT!) and had to go to the big hospital in the city, Norfolk General, and their trauma center. My Mom rode in the ambulance with me while Dad stayed at the site andbossed everyone around got the car towed back to the farm. Then he joined us up at Norfolk General. My sister-in-law went to Chesapeake and stayed with Shawn; he was released quickly with some minor scratches on his face and arm. She brought him straight to me when they were done.
When we got to the hospital, I was hollering out that I was pregnant, because the EMT hadn't told them that over the radio as we were headed in. The doctors and nurses immediately began working; cutting my clothes off, ultrasounds, x-rays, sent me for a CT of my head, the works. I insisted that they check the baby first. When they did the ultrasound, there he was, be-bopping all over as if to say "Mommy, that was fun! Let's do it again!". It was obvious that he was fine.
They did an x-ray of my right hand right there in the trauma bay. The doctor saw it and I know he immediately thought "surgery practice!" because of how bad it looked. When the first x-rays came back and revealed there was NO damage to the bones, he made them do it again. He didn't believe that my fingers weren't at least dislocated or something! But nope, just badly skinned. Each finger on the side, from the bottom knuckles to the tips of each finger. The doctor called it my "hamburger hand"". I had complained about my backside hurting, and the thumb on my left had was turning all shades of purple and black and hurt like the dickens, but he didn't seem concerned about those. I did find out a couple of weeks later that my thumb WAS broken. Quite a few years later I found out that my tailbone had been broken, as well. Since I was pregnant, they didn't want to expose the baby to more x-rays than were needed, and there's nothing you can do for a broken coccyx anyway!
They kept me overnight for observation in the Labor & Delivery unit so they could monitor the baby and my head injury, and then released me the next day, Monday. Shawn and I went home and rested for a while (because let's face it, you get no rest in a hospital!) and then I placed a call to the church where we crashed, Bethel Baptist church. I wanted to thank them for all that they did and let them know that we were ok. What happened next is the next part of this story. It was one of the biggest blessings in our lives.
Come back tomorrow and I'll finish the story!
Let me set the stage for you:
It was May 16, 2004. (I am freaky with dates like this; don't know why, just always have been.) Shawn and I were young (he was 29, I was 28), youth leaders at the church we attended, and had already gone through a miscarriage the year before in August. I was 16 weeks pregnant, and it was a beautiful, sunny Sunday morning. The day before, we had been with our youth group all day; we picked strawberries, cleaned them and made strawberry syrup out of them. We canned them with the purpose of selling the jars for a fundraiser. Shawn and I were going to church early that Sunday morning: him to teach Sunday school, and me to finish preparing the jars for our customers. (I was going to put pretty ribbons and fabric on the tops, you know? Make them cute.) I had all the orders in a metal cash box in the backseat of the car.
What we had forgotten was this: The bridge was closed that weekend. We lived in Virginia Beach at the time, and traveled over that bridge every time we went to church, or to my parents house, or anything. We had just been at church the day before, and we had remembered that the bridge was closed, so we went the other way, over the other bridge. But Sunday, we remembered too late to go the easy way. By the time we remembered, we had to go down Elbow Road.
For those of you that don't know this area well, Elbow Road is what one might call a death trap. It's a long, winding, narrow road with no shoulder to be seen on either side. Many people have lost their lives in crashes on this road. Shawn had never driven down this road before, nor was he very familiar with the car he was driving, because it was the car I usually drove. So when we went around one corner and he caught the gravel on the non-existent shoulder, that was it. The car fell down into the ditch, we hit a culvert head on, and then the car flipped back up into the road, upside down. We spun around like a top for a minute before coming to a stop, facing the same direction we were traveling, just upside down. We never crossed the center line, and we landed right in between two driveways of the church across the street.
When we stopped moving, I could hear my husband crying out, "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..." over and over. I think he was in shock. For some reason, I was very calm, almost peaceful (I later realized that I had been hit in the head, most likely the console piece where the air bag comes out, but we'll never know for sure) and I remember hearing what I believe to be God speaking to my heart saying "The baby is OK. Get out of the car. Now." You don't need to tell me that twice! The problem was that I was hanging upside down in my seat belt. My right hand had been badly injured (though I didn't really realize it at this time) and I couldn't use it to push myself back into the seat so I could unhook the belt. Shawn was trying to get out, too. His driver's side door was jammed, so he put his seat back to get out the back door. I needed him to help me get out of the seat belt, and by the time he'd done that (and we were both on our hands and knees in glass shards and whatever else <shiver>) men from the church across the street had come and pried his door open and were pulling us out.
At this point, I lost sight of my husband. I knew he was OK; I had seen him walking around. People flocked around me. They walked me a safe distance away from the car and sat me down in a grassy spot. I couldn't figure out why everyone was fussing over me so much. I was pleading with someone to call my parents. They were at church where we were headed by this time. I was hollering out the number to the church (I still have it memorized; I told you, I'm weird that way!) begging for my parents to come. All this time, I remember a beautiful lady with white blonde hair kneeling beside me, using a water bottle to try to wash off my badly mangled hand. She was shaking so badly that I wanted to hold her had to calm her down! When we had started to crash, I had reached out the window to hold onto the roof of the car. My right hand had been crushed between the roof of the car and the asphalt. It was not a pretty thing to look at. One of the men told me that I also had a "pretty big goose egg" forming on my forehead.
By the time the ambulances arrived, my parents had gotten there. They were putting me in the ambulance when I heard my Mom's voice, telling me that Shawn was in the other ambulance and that he was going to Chesapeake General. I asked them to take me there, too, but Chesapeake refused me. I was hurt worse (not to mention PREGNANT!) and had to go to the big hospital in the city, Norfolk General, and their trauma center. My Mom rode in the ambulance with me while Dad stayed at the site and
When we got to the hospital, I was hollering out that I was pregnant, because the EMT hadn't told them that over the radio as we were headed in. The doctors and nurses immediately began working; cutting my clothes off, ultrasounds, x-rays, sent me for a CT of my head, the works. I insisted that they check the baby first. When they did the ultrasound, there he was, be-bopping all over as if to say "Mommy, that was fun! Let's do it again!". It was obvious that he was fine.
They did an x-ray of my right hand right there in the trauma bay. The doctor saw it and I know he immediately thought "surgery practice!" because of how bad it looked. When the first x-rays came back and revealed there was NO damage to the bones, he made them do it again. He didn't believe that my fingers weren't at least dislocated or something! But nope, just badly skinned. Each finger on the side, from the bottom knuckles to the tips of each finger. The doctor called it my "hamburger hand"". I had complained about my backside hurting, and the thumb on my left had was turning all shades of purple and black and hurt like the dickens, but he didn't seem concerned about those. I did find out a couple of weeks later that my thumb WAS broken. Quite a few years later I found out that my tailbone had been broken, as well. Since I was pregnant, they didn't want to expose the baby to more x-rays than were needed, and there's nothing you can do for a broken coccyx anyway!
They kept me overnight for observation in the Labor & Delivery unit so they could monitor the baby and my head injury, and then released me the next day, Monday. Shawn and I went home and rested for a while (because let's face it, you get no rest in a hospital!) and then I placed a call to the church where we crashed, Bethel Baptist church. I wanted to thank them for all that they did and let them know that we were ok. What happened next is the next part of this story. It was one of the biggest blessings in our lives.
Come back tomorrow and I'll finish the story!
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Birthday Party, Sickness and What We Did about It
This past weekend, we had my second son's 7th birthday party. We had to do it early for logistical reasons; his birthday isn't until next week! Of course, he had a great time.
It was a beautiful day; a little cool, but not terribly chilly. One of the guests actually decided to shed his shoes and socks and run around outside barefoot! Two days later, however, it was chilly again. It's really been back and forth, up and down in temperatures around here the last few weeks.
Some of you know me well enough to know that I'm a big essential oil user. Some of you may not have known that, but now you do! I've been using EO's for a little over a year now. I had gone to about 4 or 5 classes with my friend, and was still quite dubious about the whole thing, until I had a breakthrough. I'll spare you the gory details, but the digestive blend oil from doTERRA literally changed my life. I was hooked, and I've seen so much in our lifestyle change ever since then.
We've had a little bug here in our home the last few days. It started as a little sniffling from all three boys. As soon as I noticed that, I began diffusing these three oils: Protective Blend, Wild Orange and Respiratory Blend. I love the scent of all of these combined!
Monday morning, the symptoms were:
4 year old: ear infection (which we did go to the doctor for, I'm not totally against antibiotics when they are called for!) and runny nose.
6 (almost 7) year old: sneezing,... stuffy/runny nose, normal seasonal junk.
10 year old: Sore throat, lethargy, coughing, stuffy/runny nose (he was the worst of the boys)
Me: Exhausted, sore throat off and on fever (for no apparent reason)
Dad: Never did tell me, but he was definitely off his game.
It was a beautiful day; a little cool, but not terribly chilly. One of the guests actually decided to shed his shoes and socks and run around outside barefoot! Two days later, however, it was chilly again. It's really been back and forth, up and down in temperatures around here the last few weeks.
Some of you know me well enough to know that I'm a big essential oil user. Some of you may not have known that, but now you do! I've been using EO's for a little over a year now. I had gone to about 4 or 5 classes with my friend, and was still quite dubious about the whole thing, until I had a breakthrough. I'll spare you the gory details, but the digestive blend oil from doTERRA literally changed my life. I was hooked, and I've seen so much in our lifestyle change ever since then.
We've had a little bug here in our home the last few days. It started as a little sniffling from all three boys. As soon as I noticed that, I began diffusing these three oils: Protective Blend, Wild Orange and Respiratory Blend. I love the scent of all of these combined!
Monday morning, the symptoms were:
4 year old: ear infection (which we did go to the doctor for, I'm not totally against antibiotics when they are called for!) and runny nose.
6 (almost 7) year old: sneezing,... stuffy/runny nose, normal seasonal junk.
10 year old: Sore throat, lethargy, coughing, stuffy/runny nose (he was the worst of the boys)
Me: Exhausted, sore throat off and on fever (for no apparent reason)
Dad: Never did tell me, but he was definitely off his game.
So, with the diffuser running, applying the Protective Blend and Oregano to our feet and taking some Protective Blend capsules (only Dad, me and the 10 year old, the worst of us) we went about the days. Oh, school was non-existent Monday, except for the 4 year old going to preschool. Tuesday, we were back in the swing of things, but still a little slow. Today, is a different story. Today (Wednesday) we're feeling better! I actually got the bed made, laundry done, and school done. I'm tired this evening, but it's the accomplished tired. There is still some sniffling going on, but you can tell the boys are perking up.
Do you want to know more about doTERRA essential oils? Please leave a comment, or you can check my website at www.mydoterra.com/blessedmamaof3. I'll be talking more on my blog about doTERRA and all the wonderful products they offer!
Do you want to know more about doTERRA essential oils? Please leave a comment, or you can check my website at www.mydoterra.com/blessedmamaof3. I'll be talking more on my blog about doTERRA and all the wonderful products they offer!
Sunday, March 1, 2015
Let Me Ask You a Question
Hello everyone!!
I've been told by a whole bunch of people how much they like reading my blog. Thing is, I have also been told that some of you aren't getting email notifications when I post something. Now, I know most of you read it by clicking over from Facebook when I post there, but I have a few friends that don't have Facebook (GASP! I know!!) or those that may be taking a break from social media altogether, that still want to read my blog.
I need to know how many of you click over from Facebook, and who just gets it in email. I mean, if my own HUSBAND isn't getting the notifications, then who else isn't, you know?
Please comment here to let me know how you're getting to my blog, would ya? Please?
Thanks ever so much!
I've been told by a whole bunch of people how much they like reading my blog. Thing is, I have also been told that some of you aren't getting email notifications when I post something. Now, I know most of you read it by clicking over from Facebook when I post there, but I have a few friends that don't have Facebook (GASP! I know!!) or those that may be taking a break from social media altogether, that still want to read my blog.
I need to know how many of you click over from Facebook, and who just gets it in email. I mean, if my own HUSBAND isn't getting the notifications, then who else isn't, you know?
Please comment here to let me know how you're getting to my blog, would ya? Please?
Thanks ever so much!
Thursday, February 19, 2015
A Boy, a Girl, and a Bed
Let me tell you a story. A story about a husband. And a wife. And a bed.
You see, this bed was bought after a fire had happened in the couple's house. The first bed that the couple ever had (it was their first major furniture purchase together) had been destroyed by the smoke damage. While they were waiting for their house to be repaired, someone gave them a very nice new mattress and box springs. When they moved back into their house, they bought a bedroom set off Craig's list. Unfortunately, the bed wasn't complete, so they had to buy a bed frame as well. They didn't really like this arrangement, but for the money that they had, it was the best they could do.
After a while, the wife (let's call her "Lina") found that the bed was sagging on the husband's (let's call him "John") side. When she would sit down to put on her socks, she would almost fall to the floor! Now, Lina isn't the smallest gal in the world, but she ain't THAT big! Add to that the fact that whenever John would come to bed after the Lina was asleep, she would literally fall into him when he laid down.
Finally one day, Lina said to John, "Honey? I think maybe the box springs are broken on your side." and then she proceeded to demonstrate why she thought so. She thought maybe they would have to buy a new mattress as well, because there was an indentation where John's rear end always was. (I have been asked to refrain from calling it something else, but suffice it to say the couple's ten year old son, "Jonah" thought it was hilarious!) John just casually brushed it off and said, "Nah. They can't be broken."
Well, the couple continued to sleep on said bed for quite a while, because they just couldn't afford anything else. Finally, after doing their taxes and getting their refund, they were able to shop a little. Lina found a very nice bed, almost like the one they'd had before the fire. It was even actually the exact same price as they'd paid for their original bed more than 16 years before! They even had enough to get their son, Jonah, a headboard for his bed (since he'd been sleeping on just a mattress and box springs!)
The bed was delivered, and John went to work. Lina knew enough to stay out of his way, only to help when asked, so she was sitting in her favorite chair when she heard "well no wonder!!" yelled from the bedroom. When she asked what was going on (though she felt she already knew the answer), he answered, "The box springs are broken!"
She didn't really want to say "I told you so", but it escaped her mouth before she could stop herself.
He looked sheepish when he came out of the room, saying "I don't want to talk about it."
So they didn't.
Lina called her mother, (who has a Sam's card) and they went to Sam's at 6:00 pm that evening and bought a new box spring for their bed. Problem was, they didn't plan well enough. They thought that maybe it would fit in the back of the minivan that Lina drove; they even took out the bucket seats and folded the back seat down.
Nope. Not gonna happen. *sigh*
So, they called Lina's cousin who drives a truck. "Can you come get us, please?" An hour and a half later, he showed up. Lina and her mom finally got home, and John was finally able to get the bed together.
Oh, did I mention that their middle son, "Darren" decided to use one of the brand new cross-bars as a helicopter blade and spin it around, therefore cracking it? Yeah. The first time they laid in the bed, they heard a craaa-aack. NOT something you want to hear when you lay down in a brand new bed! Thankfully, they were able to rig it and sleep on it that night. The next day, John went to Home Depot and bought some more wood to shore up the broken cross beams.
John and Lina now have a new bed! It doesn't make squeaking noises when you get in and out, Lina doesn't fall into John when he gets into the bed, and the mattress is like new again! They are sleeping better than they have in a long time!
*****************************Disclaimer*****************************
This story is NOT purely fictional. This actually happened. You can guess who this happened to, and you'll probably be right. Names have been changed to protect the "innocent", but let's face it, everyone already knows who Darren is!
You see, this bed was bought after a fire had happened in the couple's house. The first bed that the couple ever had (it was their first major furniture purchase together) had been destroyed by the smoke damage. While they were waiting for their house to be repaired, someone gave them a very nice new mattress and box springs. When they moved back into their house, they bought a bedroom set off Craig's list. Unfortunately, the bed wasn't complete, so they had to buy a bed frame as well. They didn't really like this arrangement, but for the money that they had, it was the best they could do.
After a while, the wife (let's call her "Lina") found that the bed was sagging on the husband's (let's call him "John") side. When she would sit down to put on her socks, she would almost fall to the floor! Now, Lina isn't the smallest gal in the world, but she ain't THAT big! Add to that the fact that whenever John would come to bed after the Lina was asleep, she would literally fall into him when he laid down.
Finally one day, Lina said to John, "Honey? I think maybe the box springs are broken on your side." and then she proceeded to demonstrate why she thought so. She thought maybe they would have to buy a new mattress as well, because there was an indentation where John's rear end always was. (I have been asked to refrain from calling it something else, but suffice it to say the couple's ten year old son, "Jonah" thought it was hilarious!) John just casually brushed it off and said, "Nah. They can't be broken."
Well, the couple continued to sleep on said bed for quite a while, because they just couldn't afford anything else. Finally, after doing their taxes and getting their refund, they were able to shop a little. Lina found a very nice bed, almost like the one they'd had before the fire. It was even actually the exact same price as they'd paid for their original bed more than 16 years before! They even had enough to get their son, Jonah, a headboard for his bed (since he'd been sleeping on just a mattress and box springs!)
The bed was delivered, and John went to work. Lina knew enough to stay out of his way, only to help when asked, so she was sitting in her favorite chair when she heard "well no wonder!!" yelled from the bedroom. When she asked what was going on (though she felt she already knew the answer), he answered, "The box springs are broken!"
She didn't really want to say "I told you so", but it escaped her mouth before she could stop herself.
He looked sheepish when he came out of the room, saying "I don't want to talk about it."
So they didn't.
Lina called her mother, (who has a Sam's card) and they went to Sam's at 6:00 pm that evening and bought a new box spring for their bed. Problem was, they didn't plan well enough. They thought that maybe it would fit in the back of the minivan that Lina drove; they even took out the bucket seats and folded the back seat down.
Nope. Not gonna happen. *sigh*
So, they called Lina's cousin who drives a truck. "Can you come get us, please?" An hour and a half later, he showed up. Lina and her mom finally got home, and John was finally able to get the bed together.
Oh, did I mention that their middle son, "Darren" decided to use one of the brand new cross-bars as a helicopter blade and spin it around, therefore cracking it? Yeah. The first time they laid in the bed, they heard a craaa-aack. NOT something you want to hear when you lay down in a brand new bed! Thankfully, they were able to rig it and sleep on it that night. The next day, John went to Home Depot and bought some more wood to shore up the broken cross beams.
John and Lina now have a new bed! It doesn't make squeaking noises when you get in and out, Lina doesn't fall into John when he gets into the bed, and the mattress is like new again! They are sleeping better than they have in a long time!
*****************************Disclaimer*****************************
This story is NOT purely fictional. This actually happened. You can guess who this happened to, and you'll probably be right. Names have been changed to protect the "innocent", but let's face it, everyone already knows who Darren is!
Monday, February 2, 2015
The Day Our House Burned Down and What Happened After: The End!
So. Our house burned down. Well, not down, they just basically had to gut the house and start again. In some ways, they said, it would have been easier to knock it down and re-build the house from scratch than to try to match what was already in the house.
You see, my Grandpa built this house more than 50 years ago. Our farm has been here for over 100 years; started by my great-grandfather and now run by my father. Up until 2005, it was a dairy farm. Yes, people, I've milked cows. I will fully admit to being the princess; with two older brothers to do the heavy work, I did get out of a lot. I did, however, have to get up early before school and help when I was old enough! My jobs were to help get the milking started and feed the babies. No, I wasn't terribly excited about it, but my parents told me that my job came with my birth certificate.
But I digress.
When Grandpa built this house, he used the trees that grew behind where the house stands. When the restorers looked at the inside of the roof from the attic, they were flummoxed. They had never seen a roof built like it was, with rough cut lumber in planks. They left as much as they could alone, but they had to use plywood in the places that couldn't be saved.
You see, my Grandpa built this house more than 50 years ago. Our farm has been here for over 100 years; started by my great-grandfather and now run by my father. Up until 2005, it was a dairy farm. Yes, people, I've milked cows. I will fully admit to being the princess; with two older brothers to do the heavy work, I did get out of a lot. I did, however, have to get up early before school and help when I was old enough! My jobs were to help get the milking started and feed the babies. No, I wasn't terribly excited about it, but my parents told me that my job came with my birth certificate.
But I digress.
When Grandpa built this house, he used the trees that grew behind where the house stands. When the restorers looked at the inside of the roof from the attic, they were flummoxed. They had never seen a roof built like it was, with rough cut lumber in planks. They left as much as they could alone, but they had to use plywood in the places that couldn't be saved.
 |
| The roof being torn off |
Once they tore down the walls and ceiling, they began spraying everything with what is basically a sealant.
 |
| Before the sealant |
 |
| After the sealant |
There was a lot of work to do. All in all, it took four and a half months. During that time, people from our community, friends and family and church family showed up. They brought food, clothes (oh my, so many clothes!!), money; you name it. We were blessed by so much that summer.
We made decision after decision; from flooring to counter tops, lighting to appliances, Mom and I were busy those months. We did have fun going to the stores and spending someone else's (insurance company) money, though!
 |
| We bought everything AND the kitchen sink! |
We were able to find furniture on Craig's List for good prices, and thanks to so many wonderful donations that we just put in the bank until we could use them, we had enough to get all the furniture we needed. We finally were able to get back into our house at the beginning of October.
 |
| Our first night, on our new (to us) sofa in our NEW house |
I learned a lot of things that summer. One thing is, stuff is just that: stuff. We call it "kindling" now, actually. I know, it's a terrible joke. To us, though, it really is. We think twice about the things we buy now. Do we really need it, or do we just want it? (Sometimes, it's just fine to buy something you want, I'm not saying that you should never treat yourself!)
Another thing that I learned is who my real friends really are. I was quite surprised by some that "showed up", and let down by some that didn't bother. That made me stronger, though. I am comfortable in my own skin, and the only One I need to answer to is God. Don't get me wrong, I have my moments (or days, weeks or..er..um..well, you get the idea!) where I feel less than, unworthy and all that. In the grand scheme of things, though
"For I know whom I have believed, and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I've committed unto Him against that day."
2 Timothy 1:12
Basically, God's got this. I've learned that sometimes the best thing to do is just sit back and watch.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
The Day Our House Burned Down and What Happened After (Part 5)
If you have been reading along, this is part 5 of my story. If you haven't, you really should read it in order!
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Shawn's boss told him to take all the time off that he needed to take care of things here at home. I was very grateful; I needed him here. He was home for a week, cleaning the house out and basically directing everyone that came to help. I was no use to anyone.
When my in-laws were here, they brought a queen sized air bed for us. Shawn and I were able to at least sleep in the same room again; he on the air bed, me on the regular bed. (He moves around too much, and every time he did, he'd bump me right off the air bed!) We stayed that way for 6 weeks, until someone gave us a mattress and box springs.
Monday and Tuesday people came to help get more stuff out of the house and garage. A youth group from a church we don't even go to came out and cleaned things like dishes and "stuff". I remember someone trying to clean the boys building blocks; you know, the Mega Blocks? Yeah. Soot won't come off of those. I told them to throw them away.
You know, smoke doesn't discriminate. Heat doesn't, either. I had a desk top computer in the kitchen, on the other side of the house from the fire. There was also a laptop computer, on the floor, not 4 feet from the actual flames (there was a chair between the flames and the computer.) Can you guess which one survived the fire? The laptop! The desktop, because it was plugged in and because it was above the floor on a desk, fried. The laptop was on the floor, under the smoke and not plugged in.
Our wedding album was in a utility sink that we used for storing stuff; we never ran the water in it. It totally survived.
My oldest son, Noah, was in a loft bed that night. I'm convinced that if his bedroom door had been open and not closed, he wouldn't be with us today; he would have perished from smoke inhalation. He was so high up, close to the ceiling. There was an Ikea shelving unit under his bed that we stored toys on. When it was taken out of the house, Shawn scraped a sticker off of it. This it what he saw:
We called this picture "Beauty from Ashes".
We lost everything in our attic. Our Christmas decorations and ornaments I had been collecting for 13 years were all gone. When the restorers were up in the attic, they were told to just throw away what they found. I didn't want to see it. When I went down there one day to get the mail and check on things (that became my daily routine) one guy came out with this in his hands:
I didn't have any Santa decorations in my home but this one. It was the only Christmas decoration that we found. Thing is, now it's disappeared. We have NO idea where it is, to this day!
Let's switch gears here a little, now, shall we?
After the fire, I didn't sleep. I was fine during the day, but when the sun went down, I wasn't. It was as if I had to stay awake to protect everyone else. My Mom's dryer had an alarm that would buzz when the clothes were done; I had to make her turn it off, because it sounded too much like the smoke alarms. It scared me every time. She also has an upright freezer that was malfunctioning, and it too had an alarm that sounded like the smoke alarms. Unfortunately, we couldn't turn that one off, and it would go off in the middle of the night.
Between those things and no sleep, I was jumpier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
I finally went to the doctor. I told her what had happened, and that I wasn't sleeping. I thought I needed sleeping medicine. I'd been given Ambien when I was pregnant, so I figured they'd just give me that. She told me I was wrong. Oh, the sleeping pills would put me to sleep, yes, but I would wake back up. She told me that I was suffering from anxiety.
Anxiety? Me? Are you sure?
It was almost like PTSD. She prescribed some anti-anxiety meds and anti-depressants (this was before my discovery of essential oils!) and sent me home with instructions to rest as much as possible.
Riiiiiiight.
...to be continued, again...
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Shawn's boss told him to take all the time off that he needed to take care of things here at home. I was very grateful; I needed him here. He was home for a week, cleaning the house out and basically directing everyone that came to help. I was no use to anyone.
When my in-laws were here, they brought a queen sized air bed for us. Shawn and I were able to at least sleep in the same room again; he on the air bed, me on the regular bed. (He moves around too much, and every time he did, he'd bump me right off the air bed!) We stayed that way for 6 weeks, until someone gave us a mattress and box springs.
Monday and Tuesday people came to help get more stuff out of the house and garage. A youth group from a church we don't even go to came out and cleaned things like dishes and "stuff". I remember someone trying to clean the boys building blocks; you know, the Mega Blocks? Yeah. Soot won't come off of those. I told them to throw them away.
You know, smoke doesn't discriminate. Heat doesn't, either. I had a desk top computer in the kitchen, on the other side of the house from the fire. There was also a laptop computer, on the floor, not 4 feet from the actual flames (there was a chair between the flames and the computer.) Can you guess which one survived the fire? The laptop! The desktop, because it was plugged in and because it was above the floor on a desk, fried. The laptop was on the floor, under the smoke and not plugged in.
Our wedding album was in a utility sink that we used for storing stuff; we never ran the water in it. It totally survived.
My oldest son, Noah, was in a loft bed that night. I'm convinced that if his bedroom door had been open and not closed, he wouldn't be with us today; he would have perished from smoke inhalation. He was so high up, close to the ceiling. There was an Ikea shelving unit under his bed that we stored toys on. When it was taken out of the house, Shawn scraped a sticker off of it. This it what he saw:
We called this picture "Beauty from Ashes".
We lost everything in our attic. Our Christmas decorations and ornaments I had been collecting for 13 years were all gone. When the restorers were up in the attic, they were told to just throw away what they found. I didn't want to see it. When I went down there one day to get the mail and check on things (that became my daily routine) one guy came out with this in his hands:
I didn't have any Santa decorations in my home but this one. It was the only Christmas decoration that we found. Thing is, now it's disappeared. We have NO idea where it is, to this day!
Let's switch gears here a little, now, shall we?
After the fire, I didn't sleep. I was fine during the day, but when the sun went down, I wasn't. It was as if I had to stay awake to protect everyone else. My Mom's dryer had an alarm that would buzz when the clothes were done; I had to make her turn it off, because it sounded too much like the smoke alarms. It scared me every time. She also has an upright freezer that was malfunctioning, and it too had an alarm that sounded like the smoke alarms. Unfortunately, we couldn't turn that one off, and it would go off in the middle of the night.
Between those things and no sleep, I was jumpier than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.
I finally went to the doctor. I told her what had happened, and that I wasn't sleeping. I thought I needed sleeping medicine. I'd been given Ambien when I was pregnant, so I figured they'd just give me that. She told me I was wrong. Oh, the sleeping pills would put me to sleep, yes, but I would wake back up. She told me that I was suffering from anxiety.
Anxiety? Me? Are you sure?
It was almost like PTSD. She prescribed some anti-anxiety meds and anti-depressants (this was before my discovery of essential oils!) and sent me home with instructions to rest as much as possible.
Riiiiiiight.
...to be continued, again...
Saturday, January 31, 2015
The Day Our House Burned Down and What Happened After (Part 4)
Saturday morning dawned. I hadn't slept again that night; Mom and Dad have a second bedroom with a double bed that for the first few nights that my oldest two boys slept in, and a pack and play for the baby in the same room. They also have a FROG (finished room over the garage), but there is only a double bed in there. Shawn slept up there for the first couple of nights while I slept on the couch in the living room. We wouldn't fit comfortably together in that small bed, and he needed his sleep more than I did; he was doing heavy work, after all.
Shawn and I woke up very early (if I really slept at all) and went to Home Depot to get respirators and gloves for people to use while in the house. When we got back at around 8am, there was already a car in front of our house. It was our pastor, ready to work. We hadn't even had breakfast, so we told him to come over to Mom and Dad's and eat with us.
When we were done (he'd already had breakfast, but came with us anyway) there were more people there. Honestly, I don't even know how many people came; I know of one special lady in particular that wrote this status that afternoon after she'd come to help for a bit:
"Okay folks: I just left the Johnson's home. The immediate need is for LOTS of people to come move EVERYTHING out of the house TODAY. Look at your own home and imagine if every single thing needed to be packed up and moved out by Monday morning. Also, they need boxes for packing. I suggest you wear work boots. I know it is a busy weekend with graduation, Annie's funeral and Father's Day...but just one hour would help tremendously."
Someone brought food that day (people actually brought food for a couple of weeks after; we had so much!) and there was so much, Mom and I took it down to the house, set up the picnic table outside and fed everyone that was there.
My best friend and her family came. I cannot tell you how much I love this lady. She sat with me, cried with me, and just loved me. This is what she had to say when she got home that evening:
"Just came from my friend, Tina Johnson's house...Sean helped with pulling stuff out of the house, I hung out with the kidlets and the momma's. I had a good look at what fire contained in a hallway can do to an entire house. So so so grateful that I still have my friends and their sweet little boys. It is nothing short of a miracle that this is so. God is good and stuff is just stuff."
My in-laws came that day, too. My father-in-law went down to the house and looked at it; I've never seen him cry, but Shawn said he did. That evening, they took us to the store and bought us shoes, clothes, underwear, everything. Some of the ladies that had come to help clean took clothes that had been in the dressers home with them to wash them. One lady in particular still makes me giggle; she sent me a text that night saying "you have a very impressive sock collection!" I wrote back: "you should have seen it before Shawn made me pare it down to just TWO drawers instead of three!!"
The next morning, my in-laws left, taking my oldest two boys home with them for the week. I needed to keep the baby; he kept me grounded. I had to have something/someone to take care of. It was Father's Day. We went to church that morning, put the baby in the nursery, and went in to worship. I remember just sobbing during the praise and worship time. It was a welcome release. After church, Shawn and I ran away. We just needed alone time, together.
Monday was coming, and the hardest work was about to begin.
Part 5 coming soon!
Shawn and I woke up very early (if I really slept at all) and went to Home Depot to get respirators and gloves for people to use while in the house. When we got back at around 8am, there was already a car in front of our house. It was our pastor, ready to work. We hadn't even had breakfast, so we told him to come over to Mom and Dad's and eat with us.
When we were done (he'd already had breakfast, but came with us anyway) there were more people there. Honestly, I don't even know how many people came; I know of one special lady in particular that wrote this status that afternoon after she'd come to help for a bit:
"Okay folks: I just left the Johnson's home. The immediate need is for LOTS of people to come move EVERYTHING out of the house TODAY. Look at your own home and imagine if every single thing needed to be packed up and moved out by Monday morning. Also, they need boxes for packing. I suggest you wear work boots. I know it is a busy weekend with graduation, Annie's funeral and Father's Day...but just one hour would help tremendously."
Someone brought food that day (people actually brought food for a couple of weeks after; we had so much!) and there was so much, Mom and I took it down to the house, set up the picnic table outside and fed everyone that was there.
My best friend and her family came. I cannot tell you how much I love this lady. She sat with me, cried with me, and just loved me. This is what she had to say when she got home that evening:
"Just came from my friend, Tina Johnson's house...Sean helped with pulling stuff out of the house, I hung out with the kidlets and the momma's. I had a good look at what fire contained in a hallway can do to an entire house. So so so grateful that I still have my friends and their sweet little boys. It is nothing short of a miracle that this is so. God is good and stuff is just stuff."
 |
| My husband's brand new chair |
 |
| The first pile of furnishings that had to be thrown out |
My in-laws came that day, too. My father-in-law went down to the house and looked at it; I've never seen him cry, but Shawn said he did. That evening, they took us to the store and bought us shoes, clothes, underwear, everything. Some of the ladies that had come to help clean took clothes that had been in the dressers home with them to wash them. One lady in particular still makes me giggle; she sent me a text that night saying "you have a very impressive sock collection!" I wrote back: "you should have seen it before Shawn made me pare it down to just TWO drawers instead of three!!"
The next morning, my in-laws left, taking my oldest two boys home with them for the week. I needed to keep the baby; he kept me grounded. I had to have something/someone to take care of. It was Father's Day. We went to church that morning, put the baby in the nursery, and went in to worship. I remember just sobbing during the praise and worship time. It was a welcome release. After church, Shawn and I ran away. We just needed alone time, together.
Monday was coming, and the hardest work was about to begin.
Part 5 coming soon!
Friday, January 30, 2015
The Day Our House Burned Down and What Happened After (Part 3)
(This is the third installment of our house fire story. If you haven't read the beginning, you may want to go back to Part 1 and then Part 2 to catch up!)
So, here we were. A family of five, one child still in diapers, and we got out of the house with the clothes (PJ's) on our backs. One small blessing was that we had some dirty clothes in the garage waiting to go in the wash, and since the garage is on the other side of the house from the fire, they were fine. We did a small load at my parent's house. Mom handed us some money and told us to go to the store to get some basics: diapers, wipes, toothbrushes, and an outfit for each of the boys.
After a night of practically no sleep, Shawn and I found ourselves walking the aisles of Target, trying to figure out what we really needed. I remember he got a phone call from his boss while we were there, and I remember having a crying fit right there by the shampoo. He had to get off the phone and hold me til I stopped. (I'm tearing up just remembering this!)
It's weird; I only remember little snippets of things that went on over those couple of days after the fire. I remember walking through Target with Shawn, getting phone call after phone call from concerned friends and family, people stopping by to see what they could do to help, just lots of things happening in a very short amount of time. Friday was spent trying to figure out what to do next.
<Insert short rant here>
One thing you will hear me preach now is that if you are renting, PLEASE get renter's insurance!! We didn't have it. We lost everything. And we didn't have the money to replace everything. If we had just spent the tiny bit of money per month (I think it's maybe $13-$17 per month!) we could have replaced everything brand new. Furniture, electronics, clothing, EVERYTHING. Don't make the same mistake, spend the money. Trust me on this.
<end rant>
We were informed by the Homeowner's insurance agents (thankfully, my parents own the house and have excellent HOI) that since we didn't have renter's insurance, we had to clean out the house if we wanted to save anything. There was no way I was going to be able to do this; I was still pretty much in shock (and actually stayed that way for quite a while) and Shawn is only one person. This is where my church family stepped in.
The renovators told us that while we were in the house, because of the damage and the fumes, we should wear gloves and respirators. People asked how they could help, and we told them about cleaning out the house. Saturday morning dawned, and what happened next still bring tears to my eyes.
But I'll leave that for tomorrow; dinner needs to be made!
So, here we were. A family of five, one child still in diapers, and we got out of the house with the clothes (PJ's) on our backs. One small blessing was that we had some dirty clothes in the garage waiting to go in the wash, and since the garage is on the other side of the house from the fire, they were fine. We did a small load at my parent's house. Mom handed us some money and told us to go to the store to get some basics: diapers, wipes, toothbrushes, and an outfit for each of the boys.
After a night of practically no sleep, Shawn and I found ourselves walking the aisles of Target, trying to figure out what we really needed. I remember he got a phone call from his boss while we were there, and I remember having a crying fit right there by the shampoo. He had to get off the phone and hold me til I stopped. (I'm tearing up just remembering this!)
It's weird; I only remember little snippets of things that went on over those couple of days after the fire. I remember walking through Target with Shawn, getting phone call after phone call from concerned friends and family, people stopping by to see what they could do to help, just lots of things happening in a very short amount of time. Friday was spent trying to figure out what to do next.
<Insert short rant here>
One thing you will hear me preach now is that if you are renting, PLEASE get renter's insurance!! We didn't have it. We lost everything. And we didn't have the money to replace everything. If we had just spent the tiny bit of money per month (I think it's maybe $13-$17 per month!) we could have replaced everything brand new. Furniture, electronics, clothing, EVERYTHING. Don't make the same mistake, spend the money. Trust me on this.
<end rant>
 |
| This is the fireplace that my Grandpa built. The fire was "contained" in the hallway to the right. They didn't say anything about smoke damage. |
We were informed by the Homeowner's insurance agents (thankfully, my parents own the house and have excellent HOI) that since we didn't have renter's insurance, we had to clean out the house if we wanted to save anything. There was no way I was going to be able to do this; I was still pretty much in shock (and actually stayed that way for quite a while) and Shawn is only one person. This is where my church family stepped in.
The renovators told us that while we were in the house, because of the damage and the fumes, we should wear gloves and respirators. People asked how they could help, and we told them about cleaning out the house. Saturday morning dawned, and what happened next still bring tears to my eyes.
But I'll leave that for tomorrow; dinner needs to be made!
Thursday, January 29, 2015
The Day Our House Burned Down and What Happened After (Part 2)
So yesterday, I told you the beginning of when our house went POOF.
Of course, I called 911 back.
Fire trucks came. Since we live in a rural area, they had to bring pump trucks, because we don't have fire hydrants. I had also called my parents, who live right across the field. They came, and we watched the firefighters work. After a little bit, the boys became grumpy, so Mom and I took them over to their house to let them go back to sleep.
That is my house, with 6 fire trucks in front of it. Shawn and my Dad were still there until the fire trucks left around 5am. The firefighters said that the fire was "contained to the hallway area", so I thought that meant things were better than they actually were.
You see, when Shawn went back into the house to find the fire, he found smoke coming from the attic access door. When he opened that door, as he was looking up, he saw more smoke coming from the closet door to his left. He opened the closet door and found the source. There was a blanket that had fallen onto a bare light bulb. We never turned that light on, but we had little children in the house. Somehow, that light had been turned on during the day, and it smoldered all that time. When he found the smoldering blanket, he pulled it out, stomped on it (with bare feet !!!!??!!) and thought it was out.
But it wasn't.
Since the firefighters said that the fire was contained, I thought "oh, ok. It's not so bad. We'll be back in there quick." I went over there to look at things (I was told not to, but I'm hard headed like that) because I just knew I was right.
What I saw made me melt into a puddle of goo.
We had a discussion with the insurance agents and the renovation people on the front porch of my house that day. We asked how long it would take for the house to be livable again. The renovation guys said 4 to 6 months.
Of course, I called 911 back.
Fire trucks came. Since we live in a rural area, they had to bring pump trucks, because we don't have fire hydrants. I had also called my parents, who live right across the field. They came, and we watched the firefighters work. After a little bit, the boys became grumpy, so Mom and I took them over to their house to let them go back to sleep.
 |
| Me and my boys, still in our pajamas; about 4am. |
I got on Facebook and asked for prayer. A friend that is living in Pakistan called me to see if we were all right. I took this picture from my mother's couch that morning:
That is my house, with 6 fire trucks in front of it. Shawn and my Dad were still there until the fire trucks left around 5am. The firefighters said that the fire was "contained to the hallway area", so I thought that meant things were better than they actually were.
You see, when Shawn went back into the house to find the fire, he found smoke coming from the attic access door. When he opened that door, as he was looking up, he saw more smoke coming from the closet door to his left. He opened the closet door and found the source. There was a blanket that had fallen onto a bare light bulb. We never turned that light on, but we had little children in the house. Somehow, that light had been turned on during the day, and it smoldered all that time. When he found the smoldering blanket, he pulled it out, stomped on it (with bare feet !!!!??!!) and thought it was out.
But it wasn't.
Since the firefighters said that the fire was contained, I thought "oh, ok. It's not so bad. We'll be back in there quick." I went over there to look at things (I was told not to, but I'm hard headed like that) because I just knew I was right.
What I saw made me melt into a puddle of goo.
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| My bookshelf; the bathroom is on the right |
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| Looking into the burnt hallway from the living room |
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| The attic access, um, hole (there used to be a door there) |
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| This is the closet where the fire started |
We had a discussion with the insurance agents and the renovation people on the front porch of my house that day. We asked how long it would take for the house to be livable again. The renovation guys said 4 to 6 months.
Wednesday, January 28, 2015
The Day Our House Burned Down and What Happened After (Part 1)
June 15, 2012. That was the day. Well, actually, that was the morning. 2:30am, to be exact. That was when Shawn and I were awakened by the shrill, piercing screech of the smoke alarms in our home.
The weekend before had been our state's homeschooling convention; we try to use that weekend as a getaway weekend. We leave the kids with grandparents and have a date weekend. We are overloaded with information, participate in fabulous seminars for 3 days, listen to engaging speakers and just generally re-group. I LOVE our HS convention!! This particular weekend, I had gone to every one of Crystal Paine's seminars (she's the Money Saving Mom if you didn't know!), bought our curriculum for the next year and had a nice time with friends and my hubby.
The night before, Thursday evening, I had auditioned for our church's Praise and Worship team. I was nervous, to be sure. I mean, I did go to college for Music Education with a vocal concentration, so I can sing. I wanted to be on the P&W team for a long time, I just hadn't had a chance to audition. When I came home from the practice knowing I was accepted, I was so excited!
That night, my world was turned upside down.
The smoke alarms started going off, waking me up first. Shawn woke up soon after, and we both knew something was wrong. We stumbled around the smoke-filled house, trying to find a fire. We couldn't. There were no flames, only smoke, and lots of it. I felt the Lord speaking to me at that moment: "Get the kids. Get out of the house." Yes sir! I grabbed Elijah (who was 1 and a half at the time, still in diapers, a crib, and in his own room), and Shawn grabbed Noah and Aaron (7 and 3 at the time, and together in the same room), we got in the car and pulled it out of the garage. I then called 911 from my cell phone.
Because of where we live, just on the edge of one city, (and because I was using my cell phone) the 911 call was answered by the neighboring city, and had to be transferred. As I was calling, my sweet husband decided to go back in the house to look for the fire some more. I was telling the dispatcher we have a fire, don't know where it is, but there's smoke everywhere, etc., and then Shawn comes running back out saying "I found it! I found it! It's Ok!". When I relayed that to the dispatcher, she said that they still had to send someone out, and I was fine with that. I hung up the phone, we turned around to look at the house, and we literally saw it go:
Come back tomorrow for the next installment!
The weekend before had been our state's homeschooling convention; we try to use that weekend as a getaway weekend. We leave the kids with grandparents and have a date weekend. We are overloaded with information, participate in fabulous seminars for 3 days, listen to engaging speakers and just generally re-group. I LOVE our HS convention!! This particular weekend, I had gone to every one of Crystal Paine's seminars (she's the Money Saving Mom if you didn't know!), bought our curriculum for the next year and had a nice time with friends and my hubby.
The night before, Thursday evening, I had auditioned for our church's Praise and Worship team. I was nervous, to be sure. I mean, I did go to college for Music Education with a vocal concentration, so I can sing. I wanted to be on the P&W team for a long time, I just hadn't had a chance to audition. When I came home from the practice knowing I was accepted, I was so excited!
That night, my world was turned upside down.
The smoke alarms started going off, waking me up first. Shawn woke up soon after, and we both knew something was wrong. We stumbled around the smoke-filled house, trying to find a fire. We couldn't. There were no flames, only smoke, and lots of it. I felt the Lord speaking to me at that moment: "Get the kids. Get out of the house." Yes sir! I grabbed Elijah (who was 1 and a half at the time, still in diapers, a crib, and in his own room), and Shawn grabbed Noah and Aaron (7 and 3 at the time, and together in the same room), we got in the car and pulled it out of the garage. I then called 911 from my cell phone.
Because of where we live, just on the edge of one city, (and because I was using my cell phone) the 911 call was answered by the neighboring city, and had to be transferred. As I was calling, my sweet husband decided to go back in the house to look for the fire some more. I was telling the dispatcher we have a fire, don't know where it is, but there's smoke everywhere, etc., and then Shawn comes running back out saying "I found it! I found it! It's Ok!". When I relayed that to the dispatcher, she said that they still had to send someone out, and I was fine with that. I hung up the phone, we turned around to look at the house, and we literally saw it go:
Come back tomorrow for the next installment!
Tuesday, January 27, 2015
When Did the Word "Modest" Become a Lightening Rod for Controversy?
Browsing through Facebook this morning, I saw where a friend had "liked" an article Why I Choose To No Longer Wear Leggings, written by Veronica Partridge. It sounded interesting, so I read it.
Ok, so she doesn't wear leggings as pants anymore, because she felt convicted. She felt that she shouldn't be dressing in a way that would make a man look lustfully at her. This was HER decision; she never said that no one else on planet Earth should ever wear leggings as pants, this was just something that she felt that she needed to change. I get it.
Then, apparently things blew up, and she was skewered for her decision (this was just one that I found.) Not mine, not yours, hers. Some have come to her aid, like Matt Walsh, and I love what he says and how he says it. But he left out a little factor, that he may just not have considered.
You see, I am the mother of three boys. Three young men that their father and I are trying to raise to be Godly men, husbands and fathers themselves one day. Two of them are still young (4 and 6), but my oldest, at 10, is beginning the early stages of <shudder> puberty. Right now, it's just the sullen, sulky, grumpy, get my brothers away from me type of behavior. My husband has had "The Talk" with him, but at this point, the reaction was, "EW! That's gross Dad!!" and that was it.
I know, however, that the time will come when it won't be gross to him anymore. In this day and age where Victoria has no secrets left, I fear for him. I like how Matthew L. Jacobson puts it in his post, Modesty in Modern Culture: Why Veronica is Right and Victoria is Wrong
If you know me, you know that I usually wear skirts. In fact, I really haven't worn pants (except for a couple of really cold days or just around the house) for about a year and a half to 2 years. Why do I wear skirts all the time? I have a few different reasons.
1. Let's face it. I have three boys. I don't have the opportunity to dress a little girl in frilly, pink stuff. Do I miss that? Maybe a little. I won't lie.
2. I have boys. Can you imagine the conversations that go on in this house on a daily basis? I mean, just the other day, my youngest told the oldest, "Hey! I just farted! Come smell my butt!!" *sigh* Yes, that is my life. I need something feminine, ya'll. I need to feel like a girl, and skirts do that for me.
3. I have BOYS (did I say that already?) I want to be a good example for them of a modest woman. Do you have to wear skirts all the time to be modest? Of course not. That is just my choice, for the reasons above.
Do I wear leggings? Yeppers! It gets cold out here, and I wear leggings under my skirts. Personally, I would never dream of not wearing something over my leggings; you just don't want to see that.
I know I can only control what I do. I can't control what someone else wears, or what someone else looks at. But, I can choose to do what I feel honors God and my husband. And while they are still young, I can protect my boys from images they shouldn't be seeing. But while I can't protect them forever, I can try to instill in them what it means to be modest, what is right and what is wrong, and pray for them to be Godly men.
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I say this man and these boys are worth it.
Ok, so she doesn't wear leggings as pants anymore, because she felt convicted. She felt that she shouldn't be dressing in a way that would make a man look lustfully at her. This was HER decision; she never said that no one else on planet Earth should ever wear leggings as pants, this was just something that she felt that she needed to change. I get it.
Then, apparently things blew up, and she was skewered for her decision (this was just one that I found.) Not mine, not yours, hers. Some have come to her aid, like Matt Walsh, and I love what he says and how he says it. But he left out a little factor, that he may just not have considered.
You see, I am the mother of three boys. Three young men that their father and I are trying to raise to be Godly men, husbands and fathers themselves one day. Two of them are still young (4 and 6), but my oldest, at 10, is beginning the early stages of <shudder> puberty. Right now, it's just the sullen, sulky, grumpy, get my brothers away from me type of behavior. My husband has had "The Talk" with him, but at this point, the reaction was, "EW! That's gross Dad!!" and that was it.
I know, however, that the time will come when it won't be gross to him anymore. In this day and age where Victoria has no secrets left, I fear for him. I like how Matthew L. Jacobson puts it in his post, Modesty in Modern Culture: Why Veronica is Right and Victoria is Wrong
If you know me, you know that I usually wear skirts. In fact, I really haven't worn pants (except for a couple of really cold days or just around the house) for about a year and a half to 2 years. Why do I wear skirts all the time? I have a few different reasons.
1. Let's face it. I have three boys. I don't have the opportunity to dress a little girl in frilly, pink stuff. Do I miss that? Maybe a little. I won't lie.
2. I have boys. Can you imagine the conversations that go on in this house on a daily basis? I mean, just the other day, my youngest told the oldest, "Hey! I just farted! Come smell my butt!!" *sigh* Yes, that is my life. I need something feminine, ya'll. I need to feel like a girl, and skirts do that for me.
3. I have BOYS (did I say that already?) I want to be a good example for them of a modest woman. Do you have to wear skirts all the time to be modest? Of course not. That is just my choice, for the reasons above.
Do I wear leggings? Yeppers! It gets cold out here, and I wear leggings under my skirts. Personally, I would never dream of not wearing something over my leggings; you just don't want to see that.
I know I can only control what I do. I can't control what someone else wears, or what someone else looks at. But, I can choose to do what I feel honors God and my husband. And while they are still young, I can protect my boys from images they shouldn't be seeing. But while I can't protect them forever, I can try to instill in them what it means to be modest, what is right and what is wrong, and pray for them to be Godly men.
I say this man and these boys are worth it.
Monday, January 26, 2015
Enough
Merry Christmas!!
Yeah, I know I'm a bit late. I've been a tad busy lately! Between Christmas functions, family visiting and sickness, we've had a very full Christmas season.
Now, here we are: 2015. I've been inundated with emails from bloggers (yes, I read a lot of different blogs!!) about organization, de-cluttering, etc. since just after Christmas. To be honest, these don't really apply to our life right now. I'm not saying that we don't have any clutter and I'm super organized, at all!! It's just that after our house fire a couple of years ago, we just don't have a lot of "stuff".
One day, I'll write a post about our fire. Today isn't that day. I want to write about being content. In this day of social media, it is so easy to look at your "friends" lives and decide that you aren't content with what you have. It's so easy to play the comparison game. You start to think that you aren't enough. What you have isn't enough.
What is enough?
Enough is having a warm place to sleep at night.
Enough is having food to feed your family (even if it is only bean burritos!)
Enough is looking into the eyes of your 4 year old as he looks up at you with love and says "Mommy, you are the greatest Mommy in the whole wide world."
We play the comparison game too much, friends. We all have our blessings, we all have our crosses to bear. Mine is different from yours. Doesn't make it better or worse; just different. And let's face it; we only post the "perfect" pictures on Facebook, don't we? I know I took a bunch of pictures this morning as my boys piled in my snuggly warm bed with me, only to deem them not fit for public scrutiny!
Well guess what? I'm getting off the comparison merry-go-round.
I have enough. I AM enough.
In the words of a song by Francesca Battistelli:
"I don't need my name in lights
I'm famous in my Father's eyes
Make no mistake
He knows my name
I'm not living for applause
I'm already so adored
It's all His stage
He knows my name!"
And I thank my Father every day for all that I have.
Yeah, I know I'm a bit late. I've been a tad busy lately! Between Christmas functions, family visiting and sickness, we've had a very full Christmas season.
Now, here we are: 2015. I've been inundated with emails from bloggers (yes, I read a lot of different blogs!!) about organization, de-cluttering, etc. since just after Christmas. To be honest, these don't really apply to our life right now. I'm not saying that we don't have any clutter and I'm super organized, at all!! It's just that after our house fire a couple of years ago, we just don't have a lot of "stuff".
One day, I'll write a post about our fire. Today isn't that day. I want to write about being content. In this day of social media, it is so easy to look at your "friends" lives and decide that you aren't content with what you have. It's so easy to play the comparison game. You start to think that you aren't enough. What you have isn't enough.
What is enough?
Enough is having a warm place to sleep at night.
Enough is having food to feed your family (even if it is only bean burritos!)
Enough is looking into the eyes of your 4 year old as he looks up at you with love and says "Mommy, you are the greatest Mommy in the whole wide world."
We play the comparison game too much, friends. We all have our blessings, we all have our crosses to bear. Mine is different from yours. Doesn't make it better or worse; just different. And let's face it; we only post the "perfect" pictures on Facebook, don't we? I know I took a bunch of pictures this morning as my boys piled in my snuggly warm bed with me, only to deem them not fit for public scrutiny!
Well guess what? I'm getting off the comparison merry-go-round.
I have enough. I AM enough.
In the words of a song by Francesca Battistelli:
"I don't need my name in lights
I'm famous in my Father's eyes
Make no mistake
He knows my name
I'm not living for applause
I'm already so adored
It's all His stage
He knows my name!"
And I thank my Father every day for all that I have.
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