Category Archive: Uncategorized
You: Hi there, Rebecca! Whatcha doing today?
RT: Oh, just recording some blood sugars, carbs from breakfast/lunch/dinner and how much insulin I gave for each meal.
You: Sounds like fun!
RT: Oh boy, is it!
You: Hey! What are you reading there, Rebecca?
RT: Oh, hi. I’m reading up on the latest continuous glucose monitoring systems and doing internet research to determine which one might be best for me.
You: That sounds like fun! Wish I could do that, too!
RT: Doesn’t it?!
You: Hey, Tredway! What are your plans this week? Want to get coffee?
RT: Howdy. Sorry, no coffee for me. I have exciting plans to call my insurance company and see what kind of coverage they’ll offer me for great diabetes care! And after that, get this, I’m going to make appointments for eye exams and dental care. Woohoo!
Type 1 diabetes has been a constant companion since I was 16 years old. I’ve had years of ups and downs. Ironically perhaps, I cared more for myself when I was first diagnosed as a teenager. I’ve gotten really lazy, really bitter and really annoyed by diabetes in the past ten years or so. I’ve done enough just to get by, but it’s not enough to make the future look bright.
My new slogan is: Diabetes is my hobby.
Like any new challenge, I am going to give my attention to diabetes for awhile, at least long enough to ascertain patterns and carb counts and how much insulin is needed and when. And while those conversations above will never really happen, I need to work hard on caring for myself. It’s going to take time. It’s going to take encouragement. It’s going to take perseverance. But, if I can focus on what really matters, it’ll make all the difference in the longrun.
My friend Joanna runs Ministry of Reality Mondays on her blog, In Search of Lost Time. Another friend, Moriah, as noted in the comments section, runs Fun Mom Fridays. Both are great blogging ideas and I want to feature them here. As it happened, I recently ran a fun idea in the middle of the week and now a moment of reality on a Tuesday. BUT… if I ever do it on the right day, friends, I’ll let you know!
This photo shows my own Moment of Reality after Livia and I went to the zoo on one of the most humid days this month. I felt like a great mom that day: I bought food for the goats! I bought train tickets! I was taking my kid to the zoo on a Saturday even though I hate Saturdays at the zoo! I’m not sure Liv valued my efforts as much as I did, however. She was hot, and sweaty, and tired. So, right outside the zoo gates, she sat down on a bench in the shade and I could. not. move. her. Here it was, a thousand degrees out and my car, my Bastion of Air Conditioning, a mere 50 feet away, and my child quit moving entirely.
My friends, I did not perform well in that moment. I scolded and threatened and eventually moved her bodily onto the sidewalk once more. Inside I was getting more and more worked up. (Let’s just say I can understand the emotions that led to Steven Slater’s dramatic plane exit recently.) My hand propelled her towards the car door and then, get this, she walked away from the car and stubbornly stood in the shade of a nearby tree.
Public setting. Child with an internal tantrum. Mother about to lose it with an external tantrum. Images of myself on the six o’clock news flash before my eyes.
So, with an eye on my daughter, I got into the car, cranked up the A/C, and yelled something like, “Get in the freaking car!” I paused, looked around the car, wondered how to proceed and… picked up my camera. I’ve taken photos for many, many reasons, but this was the first time I snapped a few shots in order to calm myself down. And for the most part, it worked.
I can’t remember when Livia got in the car. I can remember hollering a lecture and issuing discipline at home. I recall the sweetness of air conditioning and how grateful I was to live in a time where air conditioning is possible. I also recall apologies all around, from mama and child alike. Thank God for grace, and photographic evidence.
I plan to pull out this picture when Liv has a rough moment with a stubborn child someday. : )
“Every artist was at first an amateur.” – Ralph W. Emerson
I wanted to poke my eyes out while reading Emerson in high school. Yes, it was that painful an experience. But I felt like kissing Mr. Emerson when reading a few quotes this morning. As I prepare for my first ever gallery showing (!) I feel like amateur hour times a thousand.
Like I mentioned before, Arizona is so cool because it is so very different from home. For example, we do not have palm trees in Nebraska. Say nothing of the fact that 99.9% of Lincoln front yards contain grass, not rocks or gravel.
Our backyard also does not contain a trampoline. My child loves trampolines. A friend recently acquired a tramp (with a net!) and I’m considering sneaking into her yard on a regular basis to let Livia burn off some steam.
Finally, we do not have orange trees in the backyards or front yards or even side yards of Lincoln, Nebraska. I’ve forgotten how lovely it is to see oranges growing on trees around town. When I was a kid, and we were moving from Georgia to California, we prayed for an orange tree in our yard. Oddly enough, I can’t remember whether we had one or not. What I do remember is praying hard for pool, which we did not get. Later on I found out that Mom had been praying against the pool. I then learned that mothers have a special connection to God. ; )
Her arms kept spasming at her sides in excitement. First we waited for friends, then waited for the lights to go down, then waited for the actors to walk onstage. It was almost more than she could bear. But then the orchestra began to play, and the Darling children were in the stage lights, and her attention was caught.
I tend to get nervous when I see high school performances. Fourteen years of growth is gone in an instant and I’m quivering inside, just like I did before acting in my own high school’s shows. But tonight was different. Tonight my attention was focused on my child and I sat back and enjoyed the show like any other patron. And when Peter Pan made his entrance at center stage, literally flying in amidst sparkly fairy dust, I gasped like a kid—it was awesome. And Tinker Bell? Brilliant. Clearly, I’ve never seen the Peter Pan the musical before because I believe the staging was like this all along, but Tinker Bell was so well done. For the life of me I couldn’t guess how the director would pull off a pint-size fairy, but they didn’t have to. Tinker Bell was a little green light that “spoke” in xylophone-like tones. To further the magic, toys and drawers and dollhouses were rigged to fall over, open and close, and light up every time Tink came near. Great, great idea. And so well-executed by the crew tonight. The kids around me fully believed—or let themselves delight in believing for a few hours—that the green light was Tinker Bell. Livia’s friend Amani, during the audience-participation moment where clapping is needed to keep Tinker Bell alive, looked absolutely horrified at the small “dying” blinking light in Peter Pan’s hands. Peter begged the audience to believe that fairies were real, and Amani’s passionately concerned face was something to behold. Fortunately, the audience wholeheartedly believed, Tink lived to see another day, and Amani looked greatly relieved.
The student who played Peter Pan was a find. He could sing, act and fly like nobody’s business. He had the gregarious youthful charm needed to play the boy who refused to grow up, but he carried the show like a man. Bravo! My personal favorite, though—and perhaps the favorite of many others—was Captain Hook. It was hard to believe that the same actor who played the droll nincompoop Mr. Darling also played hilarious, weenie-with-bravado Caption Hook. Why are the best lines and moments given to villains, I wonder? At any rate, Hook was wonderful tonight. Also worth a huge mention were the ensembles. Pirates, Indians, Lost Children, all—the scenes where ensembles sang and dance were the best of the entire program. The choreography was phenomenal (Courtney Piccoli, whose name I’ve seen on the Lincoln arts scene time and time again) and the Indian/Lost Children dance number was my absolute favorite.
The show is at Lincoln Southwest High School and I believe it runs through next week. Support the arts—and the awesome Koenig kids who graced the stage tonight—and go see a magical musical.
My art is in words. The swirling watercolors and acrylics can be founds in letters in print, in between black and white lines, both casually and purposefully painted across a screen. Today I’m ready for more. I long for art to be splashed across the pale walls of this old house, and I know that someday these blank slates will be filled with the creative works of kindred spirits. My soul is dissatisfied with the flickerings of television and computer screens. I want paint, thickly applied to a canvas. I want sculpture I can caress and wrap my fingers around. I want to feel the rhythmic churning of the pottery wheel controlled by my right foot, my hands tight around a sloppy glob of clay. I want to sit quietly, breathing in and out, as I create. As I cut out shapes for a collage, make marker strokes on a bookmark, or artfully wrap a birthday present. I want to inhale aromas of fresh mountain air, salty sea breezes, pastries from a bakery or coffee so strong it stays on my skin all day. I want to encourage artists around me, tell them they are amazing, and wait with anticipation to see what they do next. I want contribute to the world, make my mark on it, be proud of what I create. I want to be meaningful, purposeful, strong and beautiful in my pursuit.
My thoughts, swirling and enriching and outward-focused, are wrapped snugly under a down blanket next to the sleeping form of a sick five year old. Her deep breaths, slowly in and out around the two fingers tucked in her mouth, lull me, comfort me, ground me. Peacefully sleeping, she radiates the glory of a God who delights in making beautiful things like soft foreheads, wispy little girl hair, and tender downy ears that look like seashells. The day is dark and overcast and my mood, too, has been dark and overcast until the excitement of creative work and the sweet peace of a sleeping child spread joy to scare away the shadows.
Today I create with words. I’ll go in search of sculptures and paintings tomorrow.
This is me watching the Oscars all by myself.
This is me, terribly excited to be watching the Oscars.
This is me… blogging… because I am an extrovert, and as previously mentioned, I am watching the big show by myself. So. Who looks great tonight? Who are you rooting for? What do you think? (And yeah, I’ll totally delete this post if there aren’t any comments. lol)
While I don’t personally know anyone in Haiti, friends from Grace Chapel have been traveling there for years and I know they are terribly concerned about friends and loved ones among the earthquake’s devastation.
If you’d like to send monetary aid, consider the agencies from the blog posts of Pastor Mike Hsu and Renee Welstead. Thank you!