Third (Part 3)

     Once the operating room calmed and the staff regained composure, the process of prepping my wife for surgery started from the top.  It took another fifteen minutes and my wife was ready…or so everyone thought.  Then, Dr. Bryars went to make the cut in my wife’s abdomen and announced that the surgical application covering her abdomen had been taped on and applied upside-down!

     “Ahhhhhhhhh!”  I screamed silently in my head.  This was too much.  I looked at God, however one does that, and I smiled the biggest smile.  I knew he was playing with me.  At that moment I KNEW we were going to have a little girl.  Earlier, when the fly landed, I had a hunch He was up to something, but now I knew it.  He was toying with me and I loved every minute of it.  I whispered a silent thanks as I turned my attention back to my wife.

     The dressing was removed and replaced facing the proper direction.  It was the fault of an intern learning a lesson the hard way.  She was apologetic and rather embarrassed. Finally, the surgery began.

     And ten minutes later our child was pulled into this world by Dr. Bryars as he casually announced,  “It’s a girl!” 

     The words echoed in our heads and in our hearts.  My wife and I repeated them to each other.  “It’s a girl!  It’s a girl!”  We both started to cry.  ”It’s Hannah,” I said softly to her as the nurse handed our daughter to us.  “She is beautiful.  She is absolutely beautiful!”

     We had the name Hannah picked out since our first child and now she was finally here.  We could hardly believe it.  It was a moment neither of us will ever forget, a gift beyond any gift imaginable.  A little girl named Hannah was now a part of our family of five thanks to the One who works in amazing, magnificent, and memorable ways.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

Third (Part 2)

     It was a long wait.  From the time we found out we would not know the sex of our third child until his/her birth to the actual event was very, very, very long.  There was constant speculation.  My wife’s sister was absolutely sure we were having our third boy.  Our friends at church were hoping and praying otherwise.  We heard all kinds of “old wives tales” about how to determine the baby’s sex.  We took off our wedding rings and let them dangle over the womb, but the results were never consistent.  We talked about how high or low my wife was carrying the baby, what sort of food cravings she was having, where the baby was kicking her, and how bad her morning sickness was, but none of these things proved conclusive.  So, we waited.

     Finally, the time came for our child to be delivered.  Since the prior 2 deliveries resulted in C sections, the doctor decided to go ahead and schedule a third.  We arrived at the Women’s Pavilion (tasteful word for hospital) early in the morning.  We were a little nervous but everything was very familiar and that made it easier.

     As the first nurse entered the room to start everything moving toward the surgery she casually asked my wife, “Are you ready to have that third boy?”

     It caught us both off guard and my wife took a deep breath and sighed.  She did not respond to the nurse because she was out of the room before my wife could say anything.  I think she wanted to cry.  Of course, the nurse did not really know anything that we didn’t know.  But it was hard to believe that she did not have some sort of advantage with all of her experience.

     The usual preparation seemed to go a little faster this time and before we knew it we were in the operating room under the surreal lights surrounded by doctors and nurses.  Dr. Bryars, the doctor performing the section, spoke calmly to my wife and I about life in general as he went about his routine.  I stroked my wife’s hair as I sat next to her on a rolling stool.  Then, I checked the video camera to make sure everything was working as it should.  While I was doing that, the strangest thing happened.

     A small fly came out of nowhere and landed in the middle of the sterile gauze that had been carefully taped to my wife’s abdomen.  Dr. Bryars stopped abruptly in the middle of his conversation and stared in silent disgust at this disease infested interruption that had just ruined fifteen laborious minutes of painstaking preparation.  His eyes were soon joined by the eyes of everyone else in the room.  For a moment there was total silence.

     All I could do was smile and silently chuckle at what happened next.  For what seemed like fifteen minutes, this highly paid staff of seasoned professionals fervently pursued this tiny-winged terror all over the operating room.  I really wanted to turn on the video camera but I didn’t think they would like that too much.  The staff went from corner to corner and ceiling to floor, as they each took pot shots at this clever little insect.  It was to no avail.  Time after time he would escape them mocking their educated minds.  He taunted them from the surgical lights suspended over the operating table.  He extended his tongue in scorn as he perched on one of their heads.  His ridicule seemed to know no end, and the more they pursued the more clever his dodges became.  I am sure that my uncontrollable laughter did not hep them feel any better about the situation, but the more the chase continued, the more side-splitting it became.  I was in tears!

     Finally the fly had his cockiness get the best of him as he returned to his original point of departure.  He landed on my wife’s abdomen again, and as he did a large, African-American nurse snuck up behind him.  With her eyes opening wide in anticipation of the kill she lifted a large roll of gauze and paper high abover her head and…”Whap!” she brought it right down on top of him.

     “Gotcha sucker!”  she shouted in triumph. 

     The room erupted in applause as the hunter wiped her prey into the trash can and smiled the sweet smile of victory.

     My wife was so out of it she didn’t feel a thing.

Next Week – Third (Part 3)

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

November 15, 1989

If there is one thing you learn when living in Alabama, it’s how to deal with tornadoes.  They are a regular part of our lives and can strike at almost any time during the year.  They only last a handful of minutes, but their legacy is never forgotten.  I have known many places and quite a few people affected by these terrible twisters, but there is one Alabama memory that overshadows all others when speaking of this disaster.  The twister that forever changed my life and the lives of my family and friends hit at 4:30 PM on November 15, 1989, in Huntsville, Alabama.

It has been some time since I reflected on this surreal story, but reflection is good for the soul I’m told.  I remember I was employed with JC Penney as a manager trainee in the Fall of that year.  I was at work and my new wife was home in our apartment.  We were both on the northwest side of Huntsville when the tornado warning was announced.  I did not know it, but at the moment I heard the warning sound the tornado was already gone and all of the damage had been done. 

{To read an account and see some photos of the infamous Category 4 you can go here or here.  To read other stories you can go here or here.}

After working her shift at a local hospital in Huntsville, a good friend of ours and the maid of honor at our wedding five months prior was sound asleep in her upstairs apartment in Waterford Square.  She would never wake up.  At 4:30 PM the category F4 tornado crossed Memorial Parkway packing 250 mph winds.  It hit her apartment head on smashing her and the entire building in seconds.  I am sure she never knew what hit her.  After traveling another 16 miles more on the ground the funnel lifted back into the sky and the whole thing was over, for some.  For everyone else the long and extremely difficult night had just begun.

After contacting parents and other family members my wife and I were able to determine that almost everyone was okay.  However, one of our close friends, Steve, had still not been able to get in touch with his fiance of two weeks, Vanessa.  As the night progressed we started to fear the worst.  We went to his house to join him as we waited for news.  After some time it came.  Vanessa was dead.  I still weep as I think back on that horrible feeling that washed over me the moment I found out.  I remember exactly where I was standing in Steve’s house.  I also remember the very, very long week that followed.  Don’t get me wrong, there was a lot of love and a lot of encouragement for all of those affected by this tragedy, but Vanessa was no longer present with us, and that hurt more than any words can ever begin to describe.

My wife, who lost her best friend, went with others the following day to see what they could salvage from the wreckage.  All of them came back stunned and silent.  It was more overwhelming than they ever imagined, total destruction.

So, I will post this blog with teary eyes as I remember Vanessa Hastings-Poole and everything she meant to Steve, my wife, myself, and countless others.  I will post this blog seventeen years later at the exact time the tornado took her life on that dreadful day in 1989.  I will post it in her honor and with reverence for the One who took her out of this world at such an early age.  For no matter how much we may strive and strain to control our lives, ultimately we cannot.  This particular story is vivid evidence toward that fact.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

Third (Part 1)

After my second son was born in May of 1996, I had the perfect family…for me.  I grew up with one younger brother and my Mom and Dad.  So, with the birth of my second son I was on common ground.  I knew I could handle the situations that would arise.  Everything was very familiar.  Then, my wife and I decided to have another child.

It was easy to talk me into having a third child.  I love kids!  They bring something into your life that no one else can bring.  So, in the latter part of 1999 we got the news that would change our lives forever, again.  My wife was pregnant.

Her doctor found out fairly early and brought her in for a sonogram at eight weeks.  Needless to say no one could tell at that time whether we were going to have a girl or a boy.  As the pregnancy progressed and the baby grew we decided that we could not stand the suspense this time.  We did not find out the sex of either of our first two children ahead of time.  This time we wanted to know.  The doctor scheduled my wife for another sonogram.

We were both quite excited the day she went for the sonogram that would reveal the sex of our third child.  Of course we were both hoping fervently for a little girl to join our family.  However, we knew the chances of that happening were rather slim.  After all, my wife’s older sister gave birth to three boys, and everyone told us the odds.  If you’ve had two boys already, there is a really good chance your third child will also be a boy.  So, we assumed that this child was probably going to be a boy also.  Even so, in the back of our minds and in our heart of hearts we both prayed for a little girl.

As my wife entered the room where they perform the sonogram she was nervous with anticipation.  She sat down and the nurse started to get things ready.

Then, out of the blue the nurse said, “Okay, we’ll need a check for the full amount before we can get started.”

“A check?” my wife replied.

“Yes,” the nurse clarified.  “You’re insurance doesn’t cover a sonogram to determine the sex of the child.”

“I thought the doctor ordered it,” she said.

“He did, but the purpose of the sonogram is to determine the sex of the baby.”

Somewhere, at some point a terrible miscommunication had taken place.  We thought that the sonogram was going to be covered by insurance.  It was not.  Our budget was tight, too tight to spend several hundred dollars on something we did not really need.  We would have to wait to find out if we were having a boy or a girl.  We were both a little depressed that day, but only a little.  We were used to waiting.

Next week – Third (Part 2)

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

Marriage

     Back in 1989 when I married my beautiful wife, our minister asked if it would be okay to start the ceremony with a joke.  It’s been years since I thought of this, but it was really quite apropos.

          A pastor was asked to come and talk with a Sunday School class about marriage. He prepared his lesson carefully, entered the class and began with a question. “Boys and girls, I am here this morning to talk with you about marriage. Before I begin, can any of you tell me what Jesus had to say about marriage?”

After an awkward silence, little Johnny raised his hand eagerly. When the pastor nodded, he proudly gave his answer: “Jesus said, `Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.’”

     Isn’t that the truth?!  If you are married or if you have been married I know you can identify.  I love my wife and I love my family, but on that Saturday in June of 1989, I really did not have a clue what the future would hold.  I did not know that we would endure simultaneous stomach viruses thanking God for two bathrooms.  I did not know that her grandmother would become part of our immediate family for years before she passed away.  I did not know that one day a doctor would hold up her uterus following her first caesarian section and ask me if I wanted to take a peek.  I didn’t know any of these things.

     Still, it really did not matter.  I’m sure that was the point the pastor made on that fantastic summer day back in 1989.  It was a commitment we were making, a commitment to always be there for each other no matter what was in our future.  I guess that’s what marriage is when you get down to it – a commitment, and an understanding.

     Maybe it’s time to pull out the old wedding video again and remind myself of the things I said.  But before I do that, let me share one more with you:

A man was speaking to God.
“God, why did you  make women so beautiful?” he asked.
God said: “I did that to make you love them”.
Then the man asked: “Well, God; why did you make them such good cooks?”
God said: “I did that to make you love them”.
The man then asked: “But God, why did you make women so stupid?”.
God said: “Oh, I did that to make them love you ! “

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

There’s no man like a Snowman!

The recent chilly weather got me thinking. 

Do you remember the old classic Heinz commercial where a little boy stared into a full ketchup bottle waiting for the object of his desire to emerge on to his plate while the background music played, “Anticipation, anticipation…”  Well, for some reason that is how I feel about the upcoming winter in Alabama.  I am literally praying that we might see some of that freezing white fun they call snow sometime this winter.  For all of us in the middle portion of the state it has been years since we have seen any real accumulation.  As a matter of fact, of my three kids only the oldest can remember ever seeing snow in our yard.  Now you may think I am being selfish, but I don’t think any growing child should be deprived of the unique opportunity to pelt his or her sibling with a tightly packed ball of fresh powder.  I also think every child should have an Alabama memory of sledding full speed down a deserted wintry street past his newly created snowman and crashing headlong into a snowbank in front of the neighbor’s house.  But alas, perhaps my dreams are in vain.

The problem is this.  It has snowed here before.  As a matter of fact our last big snow was over eight inches!  (Okay you northerners…you can stop snickering, now…)  So, we have had a taste of the good life.  That is why it is so hard to deal with the current situation.  I really want to share a snow day or two with my family before they are grown.  I would love to wake up to the sound of silence in the streets and the radio declaration that, “Everything is closed!  Stay home and go crazy with your wife and your kids!”  That would be the greatest opportunity in the world for me, a blog waiting to happen!  Will it?  We’ll see.

From my desktop to yours…hopefully, it will be another Alabama memory!

Simply A-Maze-ing!

October brings Autumn Alabama memories to my mind, trick or treatin’ and pumpkin seeds, haunted houses and Halloween carnivals, rolling yards (see my earlier blog) and giant cardboard box mazes!  Okay, I know you were with me until the maze thing, but honestly one of my most vivid and awesome memories centers on the monumental task of building a giant refrigerator box maze in our church gymnasium every October.

Our Associate Pastor was a rather innovative fun-loving California dude with unkempt hair and a need to tell stories to everyone he met.  Oftentimes he would repeat these stories as the listener pretended that it was being told for the first time.  After all, we didn’t want to hurt his feelings.  Anyway, one Fall back in the 1980s, he came up with an ingenious plan to construct a very large maze out of large cardboard appliance boxes and massive amounts of duct tape.  He decided this would be accomplished best in the church’s gymnasium.  Since I was part of the volunteer leadership at this point in history, I earned the opportunity to work my tail off during the construction phase of the maze.  However, when all was said and done my time-sheet was not nearly as impressive as others who worked on the project.

The result of this labor of love was quite impressive.  It was a rather complex enclosure of twists and turns that confused many youth during the October weeks.  It went up and over itself.  It went in circles.  It went everywhere it could go in that church gymnasium.  Of course there were those who occasionally panicked and screamed at the top of their lungs to be removed from this torture chamber.  Anticipating this situation we had built in emergency exits where these frightened individuals could be pulled to freedom by one of the maze monitors.  We also had fans blowing fresh air into the maze at various locations.

All in all it was truly an experience I will never forget.  I don’t think I have seen anything like it since.  Hmmm, maybe it’s time for the maze to be reborn…or, maybe not.

From my desktop to yours…did I mention that I used to help the girls find their way through the maze?  Hey, I wasn’t married yet and besides, it was the nice thing to do, right?  After all, it was really dark in there, and they could have been scared.  Okay, so maybe they thanked me once or twice.  Hmmm, no wonder I remember the maze so fondly.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.

My Little Girl

       Okay, it’s time to get sentimental.  If you know me at all you know how much my family means to me.  They are the gift greater than all gifts in my life and I cherish each one of them, especially my little girl.  While I was growing up I was surrounded by my brother and my parents.  So, when my wife and I had two boys, our family seemed very familiar.  I was in my domain.  It was very comfortable.  Then, along came my little girl and life has never been the same.

       For most of my life girls have been an unsolvable mystery.  Even still I hold this to be true today, but with less intensity than during my youth.  During my younger days I was extremely insecure around the opposite sex.  I knew they were supposed to be ordinary people like anyone else, but I wasn’t really sure how to act around them.  So, with that background in mind, along with my “comfortable” family of three guys and my wife, imagine my thoughts when the doctor cried out, “It’s a girl!”

       I cried when my little girl was born.  I cried when all of my children were born.  As a matter of fact, I don’t see how anyone who witnesses a child being born can keep from crying.  Anyway, after I finished crying, I realized what had just happened.  I was now the father of a new little girl.  The whole idea was just downright crazy!  How could I be expected to raise a child of the opposite sex?  How could I take care of something or someone that had been so mysterious and alien to me for the majority of my life?  Eventually, my anxiety calmed.  I realized I was not alone in my new responsibilities.  I’m not sure I have ever been more thankful for my wife.  After all (stating the absolute obvious) she is a girl!  She would know what to do.

As my little girl has grown to the age of six I can truly say that, so far, my fears have been in vain.  So far, it has been an amazing adventure to see a girl growing up.  There have been tough moments, but there were and are tough moments with my boys, too.  The truly amazing thing has been watching my little girl be a little girl, to see the things that set her apart from all of the little boys in the world.

       My little girl can make me smile in a way that no one else can.  She is delicate and yet very strong.  She is dainty while she lifts a twenty pound puppy and carries him to her room.  She is gentle unless she is beating up on her older brothers.  She works hard when she wants and she does things voluntarily that no one else will do.  Granted, she can be stubborn, very stubborn.  At times she will take punishment instead of doing what she is told.  She will never believe that she cannot do anything and everything her older brothers can do.  She loves her friends and her family, and she hates it when people are mean.  She wants to dance ballet and take karate.  She loves books, soccer, movies, green peas, animals, her mommy, and great big hugs.  She also loves to be tickled.

       My little girl is special beyond words and for me, to hold her is to embrace heaven.  For through her God gives me a treasured glimpse of his unconditional love.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory. 

One of my Favorite Toys

When I was growing up in northern Alabama there were many new and innovative toys that crossed my path.  However, none of them were quite as simple and eloquent and the infamous set of “clackers!” 

We used to play with these for hours at a time.  The best of us could get the two hard acrylic marble-looking balls to smash into each other above and below our fingers at amazing rates of speed.  Of course, the faster you got them going the louder the noise!  That made it even more fun!

Unfortunately all good things must come to an end.  When several kids started receiving injuries from these clackers, they were removed from the marketplace.  I could have sworn I heard a collective sigh of relief from parents and educators throughout the United  States when this happened.  I think this toy redefined annoying and obnoxious to the adult world.  But, in my world, they redefined fun!

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory!

Grand Theft Auto – The Final Chapter

Mark Bowers was a younger friend of ours.  We knew him from church.  This was just too good to be true.

“Mark?!” Chris said in an excited tone over the headset.  “Are you sure it’s Mark?”

“One hundred percent,” I whispered back.  “Cease talk.  They’re too close.”

I was still worried that they would see me, and I did not want to blow this fantastic setup.  After all how many times do you get the chance to nail one of your friends in the act of rolling your yard.  After a minute or so my tension eased.  They were starting their handiwork.

“Chris,” I spoke softly.

“I’m here,” he replied.

“I’m going to make my way to their car.”  I said it as I started the crawl to our neighbor’s driveway where they had left their vehicle.

“Good idea,” Chris replied.  “I am going to give Steve the headset while I call the police.  This is just too good to pass up.”

I laughed as I continued to make my way to their vehicle.  The thought of Mark being interrogated by the police was too funny.  “Hey, Steve?  You there?”

“I’m here.”  I could hear him adjusting the headset.  As he did he asked me,  “Who are the other three culprits?”

“I have no idea,” I said as I reached the car.  “They must be some friends from school or something.  I’ve never seen any of them at church.”  My thoughts switched gears.  “Oh man…Steve!  You’ll never guess what I see!”

“What?”

“They left the doors unlocked and…”  I couldn’t believe my luck, “and they left the keys in the ignition!”

I heard Steve passing along the info to my brother who was now on the phone with the police headquarters.  Steve asked, “What are you going to do?”

“Has Chris had any luck with the cops?”

“He’s on the phone with a dispatch,” Steve replied.  “She is really hoping they have someone available.  She is checking now.”  Steve paused and I could here him talking to Chris as he covered the microphone.

While he was talking I made a split second decision that had the possibility of disastrous consequences.  I decided I was going to “borrow” their car and leave all four of our toilet-papering friends trapped without escape.  Of course, at the time, I forgot that my brother was on the phone with the police trying to persuade them to send on officer to nab the culprits.  If I had thought about that I might not have been so hasty with my decision seeing as Mark and his friends might have successfully charged me with grand theft auto.

Steve came back on the headset, “Hey man, are you still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here…sort of…” I replied.

“Sort of?” he questioned.

“Well, I’m taking their vehicle for a little test drive.”  I had turned the vehicle around and was speeding away from the scene of the crime as fast as I could.  I never looked back, and I lost contact with my partners.  The last thing I heard in my earpiece was, “Are you crazy?  What are you…?!”

Once I was safely away from all of the action I realized that I did not know where I was going.  That was not a good feeling.  I knew I could not go far because I had to hide the car and walk back to my house.  I finally decided to leave it at a small park that was about half a mile from my house.  My adrenaline was racing as I concealed the car behind some trees, locked the doors and pocketed the keys.

It took me about fifteen minutes to walk back to my house.  I tried to raise Chris or Steve on the headset the whole way back.  When I finally did I found out the police did not have anyone available to nab Mark and his friends.  I breathed a quiet sigh of relief having figured out the trouble I might have received.  Chris also told me that Mark and his buddies were now hard at work cleaning up their mess.  Once they saw their car heading south they realized their game was up.  At first they just sat there.  Then, Chris confronted them and told them what they had to do to get their vehicle back.  I cannot remember all of the terms, but I know they were rather humiliating.

We found out later that night that one of Mark’s friends was a foreign exchange student (I think she was from Norway) and that she had never been rolling before, so Mark decided to take her.  I’ll bet she never did it again!

After an hour or so of torture I took them back to their vehicle and warned them never to try to one up us again!  They never did.  As a matter of fact, the legend grew through the years, and it became known throughout the land that you couldn’t roll our yard without getting nailed!  Of course, the challenge was too great to resist for some, and the mighty fell one night about five years later.  But that is another story.

From my desktop to yours, it’s another Alabama memory.