Man of the Cloth LLC is online

Hey, this is a really quick post to say that Man of the Cloth LLC is up and running on the web.  Getting the website up and running has been consuming quite a lot of my time.  First, I completed the brochure to introduce our service to seminary students,  Once we took it to the printer, the website moved front and center to our attentions.  We were so pleased to hit the publish button on it yesterday.  You can check it out at:

http://www.manoftheclothllc.com

Just a little behind the scenes tidbit... on the "About Us" page Richard wanted a photo to be posted for each of us since a picture is worth 1000 words.  The picture he chose for me was quaint and manager-ish enough to lend credibility to me.  He was searching for his image as "designer" and this is what he originally came up with.

 
I agreed that is was eclectic, creative and free-spirited, but I also pointed out he looked like the ancestral church father, C.F.W. Walther.  We chuckled a bit and then reviewed photo albums to find further options.  You will have to make the call on which choice is better.  We would love to have specific feedback on anything you see that could stand improvement to make the website easier to maneuver.

Microcosm of Prayer Answers

We pulled off at the first cheap St. Louis gas station to fuel up ($3.159 per gallon looked pretty sweet to me).  I fueled the car while the girls went to the restroom.  When they came back I slipped off to pay my honorary visit to the little room of relief, so I was not there when the call came in to Erin’s phone. 

You see, Erin, Laura and I were on our way to see the neurosurgeon who had cared for Richard.  This trip was to establish Erin as his patient.  You may not have known that in May, 2010, Erin had experienced a grand mal seizure out of the blue. At the time she was referred to the University of Kentucky for medical care.  They discovered a brain tumor that did not appear malignant but was menacing in that it caused seizures.  They had been watching her closely with MRI studies every 3 months.  Since there were no changes they recommended that she go down to 6 months between exams. Moving to Missouri created the need to find a new doctor for follow-up.  Erin had scheduled the appointment a month back while she was still Erin Hay. 

We were only 30 minutes away from the doctor’s office when the call came in. The secretary from the doctor’s office was following up on new information she had discovered the day before – Erin and John do not have insurance.  The secretary told Erin the appointment was cancelled and that given her financial need she should make arrangements to be seen at one of the two teaching medical facilities in St. Louis. Erin took down the numbers and politely bid the secretary good bye. 

We all sat there bewildered.  We had come 1½ hours distance already and only had 30 minutes to go to be at the office. What should we do?

I turned to Erin and asked, “May I call the office back to speak on your behalf?”  

With a soft, near-tears voice, Erin replied, “I guess.”

Erin provided me with the number the call had come from and I was off on the chase.  The hospital computer picked up the call and I waited thought all the “if you want so-and-so, press this number” commands.  At last since none of the choices worked I stayed on the line for the operator.  She transferred me to another operator who finally transferred me to the secretary’s number which went directly into voice mail.  I introduced myself as one calling on behalf of Erin Cook. After stammering around about guaranteeing that today’s visit would be paid for in cash, I stated we were still coming to the appointment. Then I got down to leaving my number, but an ending tone sounded before I had all the numbers spoken.

I turned to Erin and said, “We will just go in and see what happens.”

I pulled back onto the highway.  About three miles down the road Erin’s phone rang.  The secretary was calling back.  Immediately she clarified on Erin’s name and Erin had the opportunity to explain that she had married in the past 2 weeks.  She apologized for not having made her name change clear.  She thought she could take care of that at the office.  The secretary simply stated acknowledgement that she would see us in a few minutes.  We all heaved a sigh of relief.

Once at the office Erin meticulously completed all the paperwork received from the receptionist.  The secretary came to the door to call “Mrs. Cook” in.  As she saw us both stand to enter her face lit up with recognition. 

“So, this is your new daughter-in-law,” the secretary declared.  “Now it all makes sense.”

Our doctor had promised on our last visit that he would be pleased to see our new daughter-in-law when she was indeed in the family and the area. The rest of the visit was sheer blessing.  As we left I was near tears myself as doctor told Erin not to worry about the bill, along with other encouraging words that things will work out. 

Now, what is my point of writing this long tale?  The bottom line is that I learned a HUGE lesson that day – a lesson about prayer, intercessory prayer. 

Prayer and courage go hand in hand.  Intercession, being held up by others, relying on the intervention of others is God’s way of weaving the fiber of His people together. Prayer ignites courage.  We needed to simply pull out on the road and move ahead as we prayed. Praise the Lord for His provision of courage and success and the future of hope.  

Fairy Tale Buster

Recently, Laura passed the driver's test to receive her licence.  She had been driving with a learner's permit for 1 1/2 years so she had never been alone in the car.  We were so accustomed to that it took a couple weeks for us to come up with an excuse to send her off on her own to run an errand thus making her maiden solo voyage.  We sent her to get milk from a local farmer.  The trip is about 5 miles one way.  She went and returned without apparent incident.  At least that is what we thought. Today, she finally leveled with us about the fatalities she caused.

Today as I was driving to church I had to dodge a turtle crossing the road.  Laura must have had a frightful flash back because she started to talk. I glanced in the rear view mirror because I was certain I had hit the innocent slow stroller.

"You didn't hit him, Mom," Laura piped up. "If you had, you would have heard a thump."

"Oh? How do you know that?" I inquired.

"I never told you," Laura confessed, "but I hit a turtle on that first trip to the farm to get milk. That wasn't as bad as the rabbit I hit a little further down the road. He ran out so fast that I couldn't even swerve."

"Let me get this straight.  You hit a turtle when you were on your way to the farm and then you ran over a rabbit, too. All this on your first trip?"

"I figured the race was finished, and the fairy tale was done. I'm just glad that didn't happen to me when I was taking my test with the state driving examiner.  The state driving test says if there is an accident with a casualty or death the tester is to automatically fail the testee.   A squirrel crossed the road while I was taking my test. The tester was shouting at the squirrel, 'Run little squirrel, run!"

Now we all have the lingering question.  Does roadkill disqualify a student driver from passing the road test in Missouri?  We have decided to get Peter's learner's permit to start moving toward an answer.  Meanwhile, it may take us a few years to have the courage to get him to the licence test, insurance rates and all.  So much for the fairy tale ending...

Newlyweds Inspire Memories

As I sat on the patio this morning cleaning onions my mind drifted to the days when we were still young.  It was at the time of our first anniversary.  We had moved into a trailer on the farm and had a garden for the first time.  I was enthused about learning to can, and I had always loved my mother's home-canned tomato soup.  Mom gave me the recipe and I gathered up the goods to produce it.  The cans all processed well, and the glowing red contents were beckoning us to sample them.  I popped open a test jar for Sunday dinner.  The flavor knocked us back in our chairs!  It was full-bodied but hot, hot, hot.  Mom's was never like that.  I scooped up a bowl and dashed to get her opinion.  One taste and she had the diagnosis - too much onion.  Really it tasted like concentrated onion juice with a hint of tomato.

"But, Mom," I insisted, "I followed your recipe exactly."

"How much onion did you put in?" she asked.

"I put in 12 like the recipe said," I confidently replied.

"How big were they?" she chuckled.

I held up my hand to indicate softball size.  That melted her into a full-fledged guffaw.

"The onions were supposed to be no bigger than a shooter marble."

We ate every bit of that soup confident that it was a once in a lifetime experience.   That memory fled back to me today as I sat and cleaned onions.  The men had dug all the onions the first of the week.  It has been such a wet summer so far here that about 1/3 of them came out rotten to some degree.  I sat and cleaned the rotten ones.  An onion that started out the size of a tennis ball would end up the size of a shooter marble.  Those were the size I should have used 35 years ago.  Finally, I understand.  I had Laura can a batch, and she did it properly.  Human progress.

The Wedding Was Beautiful

Friday, July 22 was wedding day for John Cook as he took Erin Hay to be his wife. The wedding was simple and beautiful, making it simply beautiful.  John and Erin agreed on the wedding text in advance. I just have to share it with you as it was such a great text for newlyweds and for oldie-weds too.


2 Peter 1: 5-8
For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge. and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affections with love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they keep you from being ineffective or unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.  (ESV)

I thought the wedding would be a breeze for me.  After all the mother-of-the-groom is a very minor character.     My greatest responsibility was in planning the rehearsal dinner.  We made it a no-brainer by ordering a sampling of pizza from three different pizza restaurants in Paris, Kentucky. No, the worst thirty seconds for me where spent right before I was escorted to my seat by Dallas.  I took a moment to give John a hug and to wish him well.  That was when the realization hit me - he is no longer my little boy, but rather he is Erin's man. How embarrassing to have tears streaming down my face as Dallas seated me.  But that was the end of the "water works" as I watched our family receive a tremendous blessing in adding Erin to our clan.  Realizations and additions, simply beautiful.

Quickie Update as We Run to the Wedding

Friday, July 22, John will be marrying Erin Hay in Paris, Kentucky.  Here it is Wednesday and we are dashing about to get packed and leave the house in order as we head to the rehearsal tomorrow.

With the business, we have received about 5 shipments of materials from three sources.  Richard is starting to move beyond the sample garments to some serious construction.  As he completes a new alb we are listing the original sample in his shop on Etsy, an online shopping mall.  We have one listed so far but hope to have more the week after the wedding.  We hope this will give us a little feel for the market, but at the least it helps us jointly work though the process of online sales.

I, Renee, have been selling on eBay for about 2 years so I have a little idea about working with writing a listing, shipping costs and managing Paypal. Richard had not given my eBaying much attention since I did it while he was away from home at work.  Now the slower pace of Etsy is proving a good teaching medium for his current learning style.  Here is his link if you want to take a look at his Etsy profile.  His shop items are on the right-hand side of the profile page, and you can click it for a closer look:

http://www.etsy.com/people/ManoftheClothLLC

Meanwhile, back at the wedding, all the siblings are going to make it for John.  I have to confess to being a little excited about getting all our offspring together.  I hope we remember to get a picture.  In times past we just get so wrapped up in visiting that we forget the camera.  I'll let you know later how it comes out.

Toodles,
Renee

Paper Trained for Business

I, Renee, am on the edge of my seat.  Friday afternoon this document arrived in the mail.

This paper is our tax license for doing business in Missouri.  Companies across the county use this document to validate that we are a serious business worthy of receiving wholesale prices.

I hustled to Staples Friday and faxed it off to three wholesale sources.  Sadly, it was 6 pm by the time I got them off.  Since it was after business hours AND a holiday weekend, I am waiting for Wednesday to call the wholesalers to verify that we are in.  Meanwhile,  Richard and I are sorting through the websites to have our dream/shopping  list  ready to plunge right in. 

So I am on the edge of my seat to go ordering. 

Call Out Our Pluck

2 AM Saturday
"So," Renee asked, "did you ever dream we would be doing this?"
"If I'd have known," Laura groaned, "I'd have gone to bed earlier."

Laura and I were standing elbow to elbow pulling pinfeathers from two little roosters we had just harvested.  You see, a raccoon inspired us to butcher these little beauties.  At about 1:30 a.m. we were all awakened by a ruckus in the yard where the chickens are penned.  Horrendous scream after horrendous blood-curdling scream exploded from the pen of the little cockerels.  The screams only briefly blotted out the flop and drumming of dozens of wings as they were fighting off the intruder.

Peter, Richard and I grabbed flashlights and ran out to find a raccoon scrambling about in the pen.  In the beams of our lights he was groping to find his exit point while we were circling the pen to find his entry point.  The areas we had feared vulnerable were still soundly fortified.  The pen still looked impenetrable but the presence of the coon was chilling testimony to our error.   We three circled and circled the pen, as the raccoon ran to the concealed roofed area of the chickens' roosts.  The poor little terrified and battle-weary cockerels cowered in the farthest corner from the raccoon.  I ran to enlist John and Emory, Peter ran to get the air rifle, and Richard continued searching the pen for the breach.

While circling the pen, Richard tried to keep an eye on the vermin, but with only one flashlight beam to illuminate the area the raccoon was able to slip out. Since Richard was near the cowering cockerels when he noted the raccoon's absence he deduced the breach in cage integrity was on the opposite side in the roofed chicken roost area.  Relaxed that the critter was gone, Peter and Richard opened the gate to the roost area.  Aha, the hole the raccoon had created - it had pushed the fencing away from where the roofing extended down.  Some clips and nails had given way letting a slit open in the construction. Emory held a flashlight while Peter wove taunt wire into the fencing to repair the slit.

As they worked Richard tallied the damage. The count yielded five casualties - one dead and four wounded. Two of the wounded needed recovery time and further assessment later at a more civil hour.  The other two were in critical condition needing immediate harvest.

In the time it took to boil water, Richard sorted out how to butcher the chickens.  He had to reach back in his vintage memories to a time when he was a young boy at his maternal grandmother's side.  For me, I discovered I had no memory of how to process a chicken.  By the time I was old enough to learn chicken butchering my grandparents were all dead, and my parents had discovered a butchery that would process home-grown chickens.  So much for being a farm girl!

Richard slaughtered, dipped in hot water and plucked the birds.  He brought the carcasses in for Laura and me to finish cleaning.  Since he plucked them by the light of a single yellow bug light on the porch many feathers were left behind.  Laura and I had our work laid out for us.  We mustered our pluck (courage) and plunged in.  A half hour later we came up for air. Together we survived our learning and grew in female bonding over the sacrificed cockerels. By 4 a.m. we all went to bed.

We relied on memories to build memories beyond our dreams.

Double Play

Our June started with a trip to Florida to meet the twins.  Sarah and Neal are currently foster-parenting twin boys in anticipation of future adoption. The mathematics of Sarah's double pleasure with those eighteen-month-old charmers is exponential for us; we go from two grandchildren to four in one fell swoop.  

Birth Certificate of a Business

The "birth certificate" of our business arrived last week.

We now have a valid, state-recognized name for doing business.  We have also purchased a County Merchant's License for Phelps County, Missouri.  We are heading to business.

The only paperwork we are still waiting for is the tax-exempt number from the state.  When it arrives we will start tackling the next hurdle - finding quality, appropriate materials.

During this waiting time Richard and I have been negotiating to define our jobs in the business. We have come to the agreement that Richard is the ARTIST responsible for product design and production. I, on the other hand, shall be called MANAGER responsible for finances and marketing. Small steps they may be, but progress by any other name is still progress.

Getting the Business Going

All the necessary papers have been submitted for our business to be valid in the state of Missouri, so we are simply waiting for the numbers to arrive.  Armed with the complete tax numbers we will be able to wholesale purchase the materials for the robes.  Well, that is if we can find the materials.

On May 10 we made an exploration trip to St. Louis to try to connect with a couple sources we had identified on the internet.  When we arrived at the first one I think we were mutually shocked. We walked through the door that we thought led to a showroom only to find some stacks of papers and a couple women with desktop computers.

The lady nearest the door politely informed us, "I'm sorry, but we only do internet orders.  If you have the item number we can order it for you."

"Could we see some samples? Renee asked.

"No, we don't have any samples here; our goods are drop-shipped from several different warehouses."

We kept on moving.  A retail store nearby was more promising.  We found a couple bolts of fabric that would work well.  After buying samples, we went home and started some more research.  We came upon their source of one fabric, but when Renee telephoned about ordering it they were surprised we had found that one on a store shelf.  "We quite carrying that one about ten years ago," the representative said.

The other fabrics were unfamiliar to the company rep. Now back to the drawing board to search for a source for quantity and quality fabric.

Meanwhile, Richard is sewing up the samples for the materials we were able to get.  This week it looks like the rain may be letting up so he is pursuing his seasonal passion - gardening...

... and Renee's seasonless dream.

Richard has taken on keeping the laundry done and Renee is euphoric.  The Lord has mysterious ways of providing even in earlier assumed adversity. {wink}

Botswana in Our Backyard Briefly

A few days back we were taken by surprise. For Mother’s Day Sarah had sent me a 5-gallon bucket of white sorghum grain, the traditional grain of Botswana.  

On Thursday, May 12, Betty Mathiba, a friend from Botswana whose husband is studying at Missouri S&T in Rolla, came to our house to show us the proper traditional way to process the grain into a usable flour for porridge.  Here is a photo record of the process.

We had brought a kika and motsi (mortar and pestle) from Botswana as part of our artifact collection.  This small one was really designed for pounding meat, but the grain pounding one was too large to fit in our shipment back.  Betty was resourceful in helping us make this one work.  

Betty moistened the four cups of the grain in the mortar with one and a half cups water. The water helped the grain swell slightly to push off the outer shell. She then set to work pounding the grain kernels to crack off the hulls. 

The slow and arduous task of pounding the grain was followed by the even more challenging work of winnowing the husks off of the desirable part of the grain.

Betty was able to keep the edible part of the kernel in the basket while making the hulls dance off the edge.

The growing drift of hulls on the floor mat were ideal to save for chicken feed later.

Betty made the grain fly.

Peter tried his hand and after much effort became pretty talented.

The hull-less kernels were then clean and ready to go to the next stage of the grinding or flour making process.

The hull-less grain went back into the kika to be ground into a fine flour for cooking. Betty again put water on the grain to help it swell slightly to be easier in breaking down.  

The "thud-thud-thud" of the motsi carried on for a total of 6 hours by the time we got about 8 cups of the grain processed.

We tried to use a metal sieve to speed separating the finer flour form the course chunks, but...

The basket still proved to be the best tool to get the finest and most consistent product.

Finally, we were finished.  We had about 3 quarts of bopi jwa mabele or sorghum flour.  The following week we had porridge for breakfast.  The porridge is made from a starter that takes about 2 days to sour a bit.  I have no proof of the effect of the fermentation on the food quality, but I suspect it improved the amino acid formation and mineral/vitamin content.  Regardless of the nutrition data, it was delicious!  Frankly, I was so excited that I forgot to take pictures to share the final product's appearance.  Oh well, I guess I will just have to do it again.   

Getting to Business - To the Accountant

When Richard did personal tailoring for men at seminary 25 years ago the rules must have been dramatically different.  Granted, we were living in a different state, but today tax practices have intensified the money end of running a personal home-based business.  Wanting to be cautious and above board, we made an appointment with an accountant to help us set up reliable and simple record keeping.

Molly Malone, our accountant, graduated from high school with Richard.  I have been greatly honored to have met Molly many times over the years and have sincerely enjoyed her.  Now I feel empowered by her sound advice.  She is helping us submit the federal and state papers to acquire the necessary numbers and permits to do business with integrity and legal compliance. We will be known as an L.L.C. which means Limited Liability Company.  As a married couple it is the most efficacious way to go. Therefore, I am disciplining myself to always write Man of the Cloth, L.L.C. when I am formally speaking of business.  

Back to business... Molly has clarified current business and tax record keeping so that we feel empowered to equip the business for production and integrity.  Our plans are to purchase a stock of standard fabrics Richard can use for producing robes of various weights and fashion.  That goal has created a challenge. Fabrics are not as readily available as in decades past. 

Last Tuesday we were in St. Louis all day searching location to location.  One national chain store had marginal quality fabrics for premium prices. Another store was not a traditional store.  The woman at the desk said, “We only sell online. If you have the product number I can enter your order for you.” Finally, a locally owned fabric store had premium fabric for premium prices. Another locally-owned merchant had very no fabrics that would work for ecclesiastical garments unless the pastor would want to be a drag queen in satins and taffeta – it only supplied bridal fabrics.     

That dismal search has led us to the internet where we are not exactly impressed with our findings.  We are ordering samples of fabrics and continuing our search.  Meanwhile, we will work with the St. Louis shop with the premium fabrics to get started.  Next Tuesday, we are back in the city for a doctor’s appointment and a buying trip.  Hopefully, we will have more info later.  

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

The reality is sinking in that Richard is home full-time now.  As of April 22 he was “resigned in good standing” at the Missouri Veterans Home as is their policy when a person enters long-term disability.  The maximum time of disability support will be four years given Richard’s age. At that time he will be rolled over into early retirement without penalty at age 62.  Since his time of service within a state agency was only eighteen months, his state retirement will be quite small, significantly smaller than disability.  Also his retirement from any other sources will not kick in until he reaches 65 or older. 

Anticipating a gap in income, we see a time to take stock of our future by looking at the past. We recalled that Richard had received a parcel a few months before his incident that led to his diagnosis and brain surgery. The parcel was from Jane Hillhouse, a cousin and graphic design artist. 

Back in 1994 he had been corresponding with Jane about publishing the patterns he had developed while he was in seminary.  In the 1980s during his seminary years he had supported the family with a home-based tailoring business specializing in ecclesiastical garments.  He had developed his own patterns for albs, cassocks, surplices and other components of the clergy wardrobe.

In 1994 he was seriously seeking to publish the patterns but even with Jane’s help he could not find a printer to reasonably produce an affordable product.  Botswana then came into our picture and Richard told Jane, “Thank you, but we can forget this.  It isn’t going to work.” Jane set the parcel of samples aside.

In 2010 Jane was cleaning a closet and found the parcel.  She posted it to Richard.  He looked at it and placed it on his I’ll-get-to-it-later shelf, dismissing it at the time.

As is the natural nudging nature of a wife, I reminding him of the pattern parcel when we were waking up to our financial future.  He pondered it a few days and then declared, “I’d like to try my sewing business again. I’d like to be my own boss.” 

We have embarked on the new journey back to tailoring.  This time I am more intimately involved because Richard is not certain about managing the financial and marketing side.  We are not living in a seminary community, thus we will have a different challenge in connecting with customers. 

To assure himself that he can do it, Richard decided to construct some test garments to confirm that he can manage the patterns.  It looked like watching a man take to a bicycle after years of sitting on the curb.  He was a bit wobbly at first, but then the momentum grew.  Soon he had the small, medium and large albs completed.  What a blessing that the Lord so conveniently provided models for test fitting them.  He was even able to try different styling features on each one.  Voila!

MAN OF THE CLOTH is born again.

...and Another Thing...

From One Thing to another Thing, John was also in Seussical the Musical as Thing Two. He was assisting in the technical side of the performance also. 

Over April 9 – 10, we – Richard and I – were honored to accompany John to Berea, Kentucky to visit his alma mater, Berea College. While John was off doing his thing we had the joy of visiting with Dallas who is in his second year studying at Berea. 

So what was John doing?  He was making a quantum leap into his future.  On Saturday evening he asked Erin Hay to marry him.  She agreed and now sports the engagement ring of proof.  Erin will be graduating on May 8 at the top of her class.  They hope to achieve a summer wedding but more information on that to follow.  Meanwhile, John ducked closer to the happily-ever-after side when he was affirmed this week that he is now a full-time counselor at South East Missouri Behavioral Health. He had wavered about proposing while he was in only a part-time job situation.  He is rejoicing that the Lord honored his step of faith. 

Future Things?

Sarah has added her share of excitement to our lives again – this time in the form of twins.  About a year ago Sarah and Neal began the application process to qualify as adoptive parents.  Last month they received fifteen-month-old identical twin boys to foster with the anticipation of adoption.  Having been placed into the public foster system only nine months before, the boys were still in the legal process of termination of parental rights. This past Wednesday the courts gave the nod to proceed with the legal transfer of parenting rights to Neal and Sarah. They anticipate the process may take up to six months, but in the meanwhile the boys are thriving in Sarah and Neal’s home.  We hope to make the journey to Florida to see them in May.  

Clown Sighting? No. Thing Sighting.

It is no wonder that Richard can have challenging days with moments of confusion when one looks out and sees a Thing in the yard.

Emory was quite a Technicolor spectacle while he was mowing the yard today.  That green mop on his head is really his hair dyed for his part in Seussical the Musical.  You see, he is a Thing - Thing One to be exact.  You may recall that the Things were the blue-haired helpers The Cat in The Hat let loose to liven up the rainy day for the poor boy and girl left at home.  Emory has dyed his hair blue so he can serve as part of the technical crew for the play that ran last week. He has to touch up the color tomorrow so that he is back to neon blue for the last four performances this week.  

The Waiting is Over... Again

Wait for the Lord;

be strong and let your heart take courage;

wait for the Lord!   Ps.27:14

I looked at the expiration date on the small can of tomato sauce – January, 2013. That snapped me back to the reality that we are living in a new series of timetables. The tomatoes would expire before Richard’s first term of disability. The waiting was over. The anticipated disability notification letter arrived yesterday with all of the time frames laid out for us for up to four years.

To qualify for disability support the first two years, Richard must be unable to perform at the capacity to fill his most recent post. The next two years will require that he try working at any profession in which he has the ability.  With any job, disability will supplement his pay up to his former pay scale. After four years he will be moved on to early retirement with the state for a fraction of the price they pay for disability. 

Over the past months I had collected verses on a little bookmark in my Bible.  The verse at the top of this entry was the first one, and it was so very appropriate for the days until now. Whenever I risked despairing I would recite that verse to get re-centered.  Now that we know some time restraints and just what our financial resources will be, it seems to be time to move on to the next verse which happens to be –

Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me!

O Lord, be my helper!   Ps. 30:10

When I would give a child a challenging task I would often have the child appear at my elbow with the complaint that so-and-so sibling was not helping with the task.  My retort was always, “How can he be helping you if you are not working? Get back to work to show your sibling what obedience looks like. Then he might just be inspired to help.”  When I saw the child return to work I could then deliver an inspirational speech to the idle sibling to pitch in to help, and we would all live happily ever after. 

The one called on to help could not help when the caller was not working. It seems our Heavenly Father may have that advice for us now as we search out His will, His work and His plan.  

ARRIVALS

PRIMO ARRIVAL

Over the past weeks we have been submitting letters and applications regarding Richard’s work future.  Last Wednesday, March 30, he submitted a letter to his employer requesting an old-fashioned leave of absence.  He is currently off work under a federally mandated Family Medical Leave which expires April 19.  Since there is no way that he could be ready by April 19 to return to a nursing position providing care for 50 residents, he hoped the old-fashioned leave of absence without pay would push off the date of return while keeping the job door open. 

Back on March 9, Richard had submitted application through his employer for long-term disability. He had been informed that the disability application was received and the material he had sent was adequate to support a ruling. As the time moved on he felt the time pressure of the April 19 deadline to return to work. 

Yesterday, he received a reply from his employer declining his request for the additional four months of leave, but instead was granted two days. His employer said that he had been approved for long-term disability and the two days she granted would create a seamless transition from his leave to his disabled status.  Once he enters the disabled status he is automatically classified “voluntarily resigned in good standing.”

We took that all in with mixed emotions. This was a second-hand report about his disability status being approved. After all this is Missouri, the Show-Me State, so show me the official papers.  Anticipation will heighten our vigil for the postal carrier until it arrives.

DINNER FUTURES #1

Meanwhile, other things have arrived this past week.  In all, 26 chicks arrived on Thursday – Buff Orpington cockerels.  The little fluff balls are so very entertaining as they scamper around of the brooder area.  I could just pull up a chair to watch them for hours on end. 

That brings to mind a story…

In Africa, Sarah was on a safari trip with her cousin Carla.  Sarah happened to comment to a guide that there are seven children in our family.  The guide snidely asked, “What, don’t your parents have television?”  “No,” Sarah retorted innocently, “they have chickens.”  He didn’t get it, but Sarah had a good laugh at his puzzlement.     

DINNER FUTURES #2

Another arrival with a future to be invited to dinner was five or six baby bunnies.  As a part of Richard’s therapy, the family made it clear to him to decide when our bunny couple could strive for progeny.  While they had come of age back in November, they had been held back from breeding, first to avoid a winter birth and second simply overlooked amid the surgery hustle. Early in March Richard declared that it was time to permit them to be fruitful and multiply.  With a 30-day gestation period, we are proud to announce the arrival of the baby bunnies today.

But this brings to mind another story…

Let me share a flashback to clarify just how passionate Richard is for rabbits.

One of his last comments before his surgery involved the rabbits. When he was in the pre-op holding he had vowed that “the next person who asks me if I have any questions, I have one for them.”  He was prepared to ask his then-most-recent favorite joke. 

The joke goes…

As the rabbits were put together for mating, what did the male bunny say to the female bunny? “This won’t take long, did it?” 

Sadly, after he made that resolution, no one asked him if he had any questions.

TRIUMPH

The socks were done three days before the temperatures got warmer.  Yippee.  Let the warm air come in. 

Decisions Making

Sunday we enjoyed the opportunity to visit with a friend from South Africa.  David Tswaedi, former seminary classmate of Richard and former bishop of the Lutheran Church in Southern Africa when we were in Botswana, was in St. Louis.  David had a couple free hours Sunday afternoon and we were able to visit on the St. Louis seminary campus. At the end of our visit David asked if we could give him a lift to a church in St. Peters, Missouri.  “Sure,” we said in good African form, even though we had no idea where the church was. 

In the car Richard got out the St. Louis map.  My heart raced mildly as I remembered the last time he was armed with a map in St. Louis. (See March 9 entry)

I climbed into the driver’s seat and asked, “Are you sure you can figure this out?”

“Yes,” he said, condescendingly, giving me a side-glance and unfolding the map.

As we pulled out of the seminary, we discussed how to get to I-70 which had the most direct route to St. Peters.  Richard relaxed to permit me to find the best route.  I chose I-170 but was plagued with left hand exits that furrowed Richard’s brow briefly.  Soon we were on I-70. 

As we crossed the Missouri River I realized I had no idea which exit to take.  I was totally dependent on Richard’s map reading since the road we were seeking did not have a direct exit from the interstate.  He projected that the fourth exit after the river would be the best option.  He was correct, but off the interstate I failed to get in the correct lane to execute a right hand turn.  By the grace of God, a couple cars at the first light were slow and I could play the jackrabbit to get into the right lane.  Soon we were on the road searching for the church.  Bingo, Richard saw it.  He had successfully read the map, and I had successfully listened!   Progress again!

Setting the Alarm

We were both gratified that Richard did so well at making decisions with the map and in delivering such clear direction. But by the time we returned home he must have used up all his precision brain power.  I was delayed at getting to bed as I completed some writing business for an article I was submitting to the advertizing tabloid.  I thought Richard had simply gone to bed, but the truth came out in the morning. 

Richard invested his waiting time in adjusting his cell phone settings.  He has a spare non-network cell phone beside his bed that he uses only as a clock.  He had set the calendar to alarm at one time and the alarm clock at another time.  On his ATT cell phone he had set his alarm to go off at still another time.  Starting at 5:30 this morning an alarm went off every little bit until we got them under control by 6:05. 

I took a moment of silence while I contemplated what to do with that man.  I decided to simply give him a hug. We then disarmed all the alarms and schedules on both of our cell phones and agreed upon one time that our phones would simultaneously ring every morning.  I never would have guessed that decision-making would be such a target in therapy. 

A Close Clip

Yesterday (Thursday) was the clearest day Richard has had since surgery.  He started the day out saying, “I feel great! I am thinking clearly.”  He was as sharp as my best kitchen paring knife.  As the day progressed, he tapered to be more like a nice quality butter knife, but he still had a cutting-edge wit. 

At bedtime, we talked about plans for the next day.  He offered to give me a haircut since I was looking a bit shaggy.  He has been my primary hairstylist throughout our 35 years of marriage, so I said, “Let’s plan on it.”

Today, Richard sat up in bed and said, “I’m cloudy today.”

I instantly thought – do I want a brain-damaged man taking a sharp instrument to my head?  Should I let him give me a haircut?

I voiced my reserve at the breakfast table.  My children were so consoling.  They came to the comforting consensus, “Dad won’t do anything that a buzz-cut can’t fix.”

They all offered to do before-and-after pictures to document Richard’s prowess with the scissors.  I was afraid they were really thinking of making a bizarre Power Point to post on YouTube.  I declined the photo documentation.

After breakfast, Richard asked, “Well, do you trust me?”

How could I say “no” to such a sincere offer? We chatted further, and I agreed that the children were close to correct in that even if Richard failed I could have it repaired elsewhere. 

I smiled a weak smile and resolved to sit in Richard’s stylist chair.  He draped me with the barber’s cape and set to work. I closed my eyes, as was my usual, to keep hair chaff from flying in.  Snip, snip, comb, part, snip, clip.  Soon he was finished.  

I loosened the clamp on my eyes and peeked out. He was smiling a wide silly self-satisfied smile as he held up the mirror for me to inspect his work.  The mirror only reflected the barber’s cape.  I reached up to try to reposition it, but he kept tilting it down.  He didn’t notice the mirror’s angle. He was grinning with pride at my haircut.  I couldn’t see it very well, so I said it was fine as I scampered off to the shower for a wash. 

After I was out of the shower with squeaky clean hair and with a wall-mounted mirror I could utter the verdict – PERFECT.  It was one of the best cuts he had given me in at least five years.  I gave my stylist a big kiss and “thank you.”

“See,” he declared. “Your brain-damaged husband can still cut hair. It is only the communication I have a problem with.”