Bigger is Better, But Wisdom is Best

I knew it was going to happen.  Or at least I was prepared for when it did happen.

You see, one of my spiritual gifts happens to be intuition and discernment.  It's a blessing and a curse.  And maybe I'll talk more about that another time.

I became "aware" about two weeks ago.  It was a Friday night.  Friday Friend party night!!! . . . . . except I had a nervy feeling in my stomach about work the next morning.  (I run a swim lesson program)  I wasn't sure if I was just being a wench or my "feelings" were legit.

So I went exploring.  And my mind's eye came up with a picture.

In my home town there's this really neat family.  It's a pastor and his family.  And a couple of years ago they adopted 3 teenagers from the Ukraine.  Two of the kids come to swim lessons on Saturday, and one of those kids is a daredevil on the diving board.  He's good.  And fearless.  All the makings you need to be a diver.

My mind picture was of this daredevil hitting the diving board with his head.  He would need to be backboarded. And it was going to happen right at the end of swim lessons, when the whistle was blown.

I hated it.  But I prayed over it.  Asking God to please let that not happen.  But if he did, to please cover me in wisdom, as I would be the one to be making the calls.

I prayed real hard.  And I went over and over, in my head, the drill for backboarding a victim.  And nothing happened that Saturday.  And I breathed.

Fast forward to last night.  Having moved on from my nervy feelings . . . . I wasn't thinking about diving board accidents anymore.

Tuesday night is homeschool swim.  I bring Murnice and Ed for a lesson. Mother runs the program.  Sometimes I lifeguard.  Sometimes I teach a lesson.  Last night I lifeguarded.  Mother was playing with Ed in the shallow end while she chatted with me.  The whistle blew to signal the end of class.  And the divingboard made a horrific sound.

I looked up to see 3 adults rush to the divingboard.  I knew somebody had hit it.  And then saw that it had been B.B. Bobby.  He was at the edge of the pool.  Which was a good sign that he could move.  I started yelling "DID HE HIT THE BOARD" as I ran down to the deep end.

After about the fifth time of asking the question, somebody finally said "yes, he split his head".

B.B.Bobby is out of the pool at this point, bent over, blooding running down his face.  I take this all in as I grabbed the backboard and start ripping the velcro to shreds.

I'm yelling out commands, "CALL 911" and "HELP ME GET HIM ON THE BACKBOARD".

Immediately about 5 adults surrounded me and start yelling at me, "HOW DO WE HELP?"

This is funny to me.  You know how in fast moving events, its blurred?  So I wonder if what I was saying was actually making sense to bystanders?  And then I wonder if I even answered their questions?  Or if I just did it myself?

I remember throwing my hands up in the air at one point because I couldn't even get to all the straps because there were so many people surrounded him - supporting and gauzing and evaluating.

And then he was finally on the board, properly.  Strapped.  Immobilized.  He was nauseous and dizzy.  And then there's ice.

B.B.Bob was breathing and conscious.  The ambulance was on their way.  And then I realized, Ed was missing.  I didn't see him anywhere in the mass of people.  I yelled real loud.  Three times.  "WHERE'S MY SON".

And there he was.  Wrapped in a towel, sitting.  By Murnice.  Guarded by the lovliest mom.  She shared herself.  Her time.  While others took care of her children.

And then we waited.

I kept going over check lists in my head of what needed to be done.  I not only needed to observe the happenings with B.B.Bobby, but there was paper work, and disinfecting, and kids that needed to be taken care of, and dazed parents that needed to be walked step by step through simple directions - such as how to get dressed, a pool to generally organize and lock up, cars and belongings to collect and be driven back to Mothers - since she was going on the ambulance ride, and organizing helpers to stand in the parking lot to direct the ambulance to the correct door.  Since Father wasn't answering the phone he needed to be personally got, along with warm clothes and cell phones. And phone calls to later evening funs had to be cancelled. 

I am amazed.  I am grateful to the helpfulness of all.  From sitting with smaller children to lending underwear.  Standing in the cold outdoors with just a bathing suit to guide the EMS to cleaning up the blood bath.  To covering in prayers and not leaving his side with jokes.

I was covered.  I had already prayed 2 weeks before.  Wisdom.  It was the most perfect, worst accident the pool of 30+ years has seen.

8 staples.  No headache.  Nothing broken/fractured/sprained.  Bloody and bruised, yes.  His hands are very tender and swollen.  And they are the worst of it, pain wise.

I believe with all my heart that that accident was meant for the daredevil diver.  I believe with all my heart that my prayer changed what was meant to be.  And God was gracious and so perfect.

My heart is full of Thanksgiving.

List of Gratefulness/Things I Love - But Only For Today

Things that I love love love - or possibly don't love, but am grateful for.

1)  A story to tell that hopefully brings something good to others. (I was lying in bed last night and realized that it's going to be a never ending story - mainly because I'm writing every blue-dog detail of 5ish years.)

2)  Ed saying to Murnice, "Murny, you wanna make babies?" - Meaning, draw babies.  Um, I fell in love with him 31 pounds more.

3)  Sister Bear calling me at quarter of eleven last night to ask what my message was that I gave B.B. Bobby.  (Seriously!)  The message I gave to Bobby was, "tell S.B. 11 o'clock at the beach".  And Bobby couldn't remember that?  And then S.B. has to call me when I'm fast asleep?  I guess at this point you're all thinking, "don't answer the phone."  But I have to keep my phone 3 inches from my head at night because I've had just enough late calls that have to do with spousal fights and cockroaches and smashed Tupperware and tinker on the edge of having to call the SWAT team in to diffuse.

4)  Ed has been telling Big D for a few weeks now that he loves him.  It's very sweet.  But Ed hasn't shared his love with anybody else, and being the person who pushed him out of my vagina - I feel I should be the first that he loves.  Out of pure devotion.  But yesterday, when I was scrounging in the fridge, Ed saw a whole bowl of hard boiled eggs.  And he told me he loved me.  a)  I am thrilled he finally found it in his heart to utter those words to me.  b)  I am horrified that the only reason he loves me is because I boiled some eggs for him.

5)  Getting a text from S.B. saying that she was going to McDicks.  (for coffee).  Um . . . "mcdicks" cracks me up.  Or maybe I'm over tired from less than important phone calls in the middle of the night.  Yes, quarter of eleven is the middle of the night.

6)  Ed obsessed with his "nest" in our bedroom.  Ok, so Ed has been sleeping in our bed for weeks now.  And it's so sweet and not snugly with very little sleep.  Big D gets very hateful over this topic.  And I'm getting grumpier night by night.  So I ended up making a "nest" on the floor by our bed that he is, can we say - in love with.  I made it so when he woke up in the middle of the night he could come to his nest. But his nest is the only place he's sleeping.  And for quite a few nights in a row, it has greatly impinged on Big D's and my very adult time that was supposed to go down.

7)  Finding some "workout" clothes at TJMAXX that I can stomach wearing.  AKA - Big D hates them.  I say they are "workout" clothes because I found them in the workout section.  I legitimately will feel like a queen wearing them.  You may find me wearing workyouty clothes every once in awhile. But you will NEVER find me wearing sneaks.  EVER.  Or if i do, it will be a very hidden and private affair.

8)  Watching B.B. Wensleydale twirly grow into man.  He recently became a believer, and his maturity has just blown me to the moon.  And possibly the stars.  I'm so excited to see what this next year has for him.

9)  I recently became privy to some very disheartening/angering/appalling/shocking/wear-my-boxing-mitts, information.  And I want nothing more than to yell it from the roof tops.  Shedding light where the darkness is.  Bringing truth to the deceived.  Letting the world know what's happening to a blind eye.  So I prayed about it.  Asking God what I was supposed to do with this information.  And he IMMEDIATELY said, "use it for good".  Not fully sure what that means, but I'll do my best.  P.S.  have I ever mentioned how much I love getting an answer, not to mention an immediate answer from God?

Take Aways
1)  I think there are 13 more things I want to chat about - but I must get ready for the leachy beach.
2) I'm not quite sure why I'm in such a grateful mood this morning.
3)  Also I said a blessing over Big D has he walked out the door to work.  He got really weirded out.  And left real fast.
4)  Can you believe today is Thursday?!
5)  Now that's good news.  I love Fridays best.

Swapped Butt Juice

Bruver Bear (B. B.) Wensleydale and B. B. Bobby are still living at home.  Which means that I get to see them every morning and during the working day - because they work with me at the pool teaching swim lessons.  I won't say that I see them at night because they are off with their hussy ladies that care WAY too much about their appearance.

Anyway, B. B. Bobby always gets up so cheerful and eager to great the day.  B. B. Wensleydale wakes up wanting to kill everything in sight.  Including me and B. B. Bobby.  Bobby eats breakfast with me every morning and Wensleydale is just rolling out of bed when Bobby and I are leaving for work.  Bobby and I chat morning pleasantries.  Wensleydale growls worse than I do when I haven't had morning tea.

So last week, Bobby and I were eating breakfast, exchanging morning smiles - him filling me in on the hussy evening (which. just. gets. my. blood. BOILING.)  And who do you suppose comes charging through kitchen doorway?  Bruver Bear Wensleydale, that's who.  Oh, and he was gruff.  Actually, livid.

Bobby is just a hair larger than Wensleydale.  But Wensleydale is older.  And both of them have matching swim trunks.  And they both hate that they have matching swim trunks.  But that's what Mother bought.  Mother loves.  LOVES for us to match.  It's hideous and a curse.

When Sister Bear and I were younger, we had to make family matching outfits for pictures or vacations.  And Mother never bought appropriate material.  Material that would make us look somewhat like a normal family.  She would only buy the loudest, brightest, most laugh appropriate fabric.  Neon cats or huge toucan jungle theme.  Mmmm fond memories.

So, apparently Wensleydale (who is more grumpy about the matching suits than Bobby is) told Bobby to NEVER to hang up their suits next to each other (when drying - or ever)  And for whatever reason the suits got too close to each other the night before.

Which brings me back to Wensleydale, who is now livid standing in the kitchen doorway.  With his brow furrowed down into his nose hair, he roared, "GIVE ME BACK MY SUIT".  To which Bobby responded, "oh, I just thought my abs got a little bigger".  And then Bobby shook and smooshed his manly buns (while still sitting) all around in multiple circles singing, "I'm naked in your swim suit, I'm naked in your swim suit".  Which got Wensleydale REALLY excited.  And then I think there was some mooning, and maybe a few punches.  Followed by an exchange of swapped butt juice trunks.

Take Aways
1)  Yes, this is what I'm living with for the next 3 weeks.
2)  Please pray that neither fellas get mixed up with my swim suit.
3)  Don't ever match your kids or cousins or friends.  It only invokes awful memories.

Bachelor Pads That Cause Me Unneccessary Grief

You may be wondering why my posting is sodidlyoh sporadic when I used to have posts up consistently by 9 am.  I wonder the same thing.

And here's the answer:

I do not have my own computation device.  Mainly because Big D thinks that instant queenship-hood will envelop me and I would walk around with a crown on my head and nose 3 inches higher than it already is.  So in order to keep me properly placed in my mom squzzies - cooking him dinner 3x a week and washing his man panties, I have to beg usage of others.

Ok, so I walk into Mothers knowing that I have nothing, and must produce something.  On a regular basis - ie 5x a week.  Challenge accepted.

I do have 2 brothers still living at home that both have a nice half eaten apple machine.  As well as a new man, J-man (because he's the man) hanging around town (aka Mothers) who ALSO has a nice half-eaten apple machine.

And I thought to myself, "Foxy, this is NOT, legitimately NOT going to be an issue.  This problem of having nothing - Jesus just turned nothing into 3 apples.  I am cov-ured by the blood."

Until I realized that I had moved into a bachelor's pad.  Yup, three bachelors.  All on the hunt.  They have this room with couches and corner tables and beds.  Yes, multiple.  It's air-conditioned.  And dark.  And they hide up there.  With the apple machines.  And they talk about hussies, that care WAY too much about their appearance.  Hussies that I want to box their ears in and then ask, WHAT NOW?.

Back to the topic - machines.  So these fellas hide what I need mostly.  But on a rare occasion there will be a slip-up and somebody will leave their computer lying around in the western boating wing.  I'll open it up feeling like a half queen, pleased as punch that I landed such a find.  Only until I open the turkeybutt appliance and find that there are more password/codes/fancy finger moves/high kicks and wizard twirls that must be performed before I can even get to the internet.

My cover is legitimately blown.  I either have to give up or holler for help with the wizard twirls.

That's the scoopy-poopy.  You could pray for me that these men would have more of a generous, helping spirit. *ahem*

Take Aways
1)  Box the hussies ears in, regardless.
2)  Have a heart-to-heart with all the rude men that surround me.
3)  Steal their computers and memorize the fancy moves it takes to get to said internet.
4)  Give up completely and worry only about attending to body lice.