Michelle Wegner

What My Kids Have Taught Me

 

I've been a Mommy for 10 years.  Long enough to know

• My girls can easily divide and conquer me and their Dad if we let them. 
• Every day is a new challenge
• I will never cook like my Mom
• I could never put enough helmets, knee pads, elbow pads or safety glasses on my kids to keep them from being hurt
• My kids are awesome, but other people's kids are awesome too
• There are no easy answers
• It's never too early to teach them about character and integrity
• I often do the wrong thing.  Saying sorry to my kids is invaluable
• There are other Mom's and Dad's that are way smarter than me.  I try to learn all I can from great parents
• My parents did so many things right.  I hope I do too.

Silver Lining?

I haven't written about it in a while, but I have Rheumatoid Arthritis.  It really stinks.  I hate it.  So far I have not seen the "silver lining" in the cloud, or the "sunshine through the storm."  Nope.  It just really  hurts and makes me really tired.  Anyway,one of the joys that comes along with this wonderful disease is the many medications that I have to take every day to keep it under control.  One medication costs $77 a month, another $33, and yet another $2.50.  That is a whopping total of $112.50 .  Yikes. 

Rob picked up one of the medications for me from CVS, and I took it at bed time like always.  The next morning I didn't see it in the medicine cabinet, so I started wondering why I hadn't put it back in it's regular spot.  I casually looked around for it, but by around 5pm, I was close to frantic.  I emptied the medicine cabinet 3 times, looked through the junk drawer, the refrigerator, pantry, etc.  Then came the dreaded, "looking through the trash"  I was convinced this is where it was.  Everything that gets lost in our house is usually found in the trash...go figure.

So, I dug my way through a rotten tomato, dryer lint, sticky papers and wet, disgusting paper towels with who knows what on them, all the way to the bottom of the trash.  No medicine.  My head literally started pounding, I'm not sure if it was from revulsion or worry, or a combination of both. 

Rob got home.  I told him about the missing $77 medicine.  He was very kind and didn't lecture me.  He took the trash outside and proceeded to do exactly as I had done.  No medicine.  We went to the girl's meet and greet at school, out to dinner, then back home.  Still no medicine.  I looked through the junk drawers, refrigerator and medicine cabinet one more time and ....oops.  There it was....on the shelf where I always keep it.  I had forgotten that they gave me the same medicine in a different bottle. 

So what can we learn from this?  Looks can be deceiving?  Live and let go?  When Life gives you lemons make Lemonade?  Hopefully there is something clever worth learning here.  Any ideas?

Life Lessons in the Month of July part 3

Don't be sarcastic and blog about someone jokingly thinking they will never read your blog.  You might not have internet access and have to IM a friend and beg her to take down the post for you.  Ouch.  This was a hard lesson.

Life Lessons in the Month of July (part 2)

   

Don't ever sit down on an escalator on a whim.  It will eat you, and it will hurt very badly.

Don't Waste Your Pain pt. 2

Ok, so now that I'm over the "Jesus bandaids," here are my thoughts about last weekend's message. 

It's a funny thing being married to a Pastor.  People get all kinds of funny ideas in their heads about what he is like at home or what in the world it is that he does in between times that he is teaching.  Our neighbor boy is so perplexed about this.  I just let the question linger for fun.  "Where is your Dad?" He is always asking me.  I say he's at work, and he just gives me this puzzled look.  It's pretty hilarious.

Anyway, no, Rob doesn't preach to me or the family very often.  He doesn't stand up and sermonize before each meal or before bed.  Usually we just talk or hang out.  He is insanely normal, and that's why I love him.  When Rob is on for the weekend or on a Thursday night, we get to talk about whatever it is that he will be discussing quite a bit.  I am always coming up with the best ideas, but he usually just looks at me funny.  However, whatever it is that he is talking about usually gets in my head and won't go away.  When he is preaching it is almost like I am right there with him going "yeah, yeah, and..."  It's kind of strange and hard to explain.

All that to say this past weekend's message was great for me to hear.  What will I do with the pain in my life?  Will I turn into a hermit, close my windows and doors and not let anyone in?  That's my temptation. 

I feel like sharing this stuff kinda diffuses the pain a bit.  Not that I want to spill my guts to every person I see, or become a leech, sucking the life out of people, but sharing my experience with a few close, personal friends seems to shine the light on these issues and call them out for what they are:  issues of humanity.  We all have them. 

Pain like the Rain

A few weeks ago I decided to "go public" about the issue of pain.  Some people were shocked at this disclosure, but believe me, You get to see parts of my life on this here blog, but....there are parts of me that you won't be reading about on my blog....Like about when Maddie and I were shopping the other day and I picked up a box of Pepsi Max (lots of caffeine, plus ginseng to make you smart) and she said, Mom, you should buy those and drink one every morning before you wake us up so you are not so grumpy." 

Ok, so I shared that, but that was kind of funny.  Mostly, I shared about dealing with physical pain because I know that so many people do but never really say anything because they are AFRAID that other Christians will come over to their house and cast demons out of them, or secretly "lay hands" on them in passing, or worse, put their name along with all the gory details of their illness on the prayer web without  permission. Or, most likely, people are afraid of sharing about this stuff because it makes them appear weak or vulnerable. 

Pain is part of being human.  When we travel in India, I am reminded of how good we have it here in America.  About every 3rd person you see in India has something physically apparent and wrong with them.  Here, if we see some one like that, we cringe and think them "unclean".

Pain has taught  me a lot about myself, a lot about Jesus, and a lot about life.  I look forward to sharing more on this topic soon.

On Tortes and Aging

Apparently, 34 is the year you get old.  Well, maybe not you, but me.  I've been very healthy my whole life.  I hit 34 and fell to pieces.  At least it feels that way right now.  I made a chocolate raspberry torte yesterday.  I was pretty darn proud of myself, but all I kept thinking about was that this is something my Grandma should be making, not me!  I'm not old enough to make something like a torte!  Perhaps it was because I was having a pity party for myself. 

I found out this week I have rheumatoid arthritis.  I was shocked and saddened by that piece of news.  You know it's bad news when it's the doctor's voice on the other end when you say "hello" and not his nurse calling to tell you everything's ok.  The rheumatoid arthritis wouldn't be so bad in and of itself.  On top of it, I have a torn nerve in my back, scoliosis, a herniated disc....and bone spurs.  Ouch.  Next thing you know I will be pouring bacon grease on all my family's meals like my Grandma did. 

I'm trying to be brave.  Trying to tough it out and put a smile on my face.  Trying to learn.  Trying to grow.  Trying to stay close to Jesus and find out what He has to say about all of this.  Mostly, I'm trying not to have any more pity parties.  The torte turned out just right.  It only took me 34 years to make one.  Perhaps Jesus knew he could trust me with this trial just now.  And so, I walk (or should I say limp) ahead into the unknown and wonder.... 

Dreaming

The other night I had a dream about my Grandmothers. I was on an old fashioned street, and I was lured by some interest into this apartment building. My Grandma Lanting was in it. The entire house was decorated in the 1950's style. She was singing a song and vacuuming with her old fashioned Hoover vacuum. There was a record on the record player, and her black, rotary dial phone on the wall. My Grandma Blom was present also.

One floor up I visited with my Great-Grandma Blom. Her room was decorated in the fashion of the 1940's. She had the most amazing and wonderful, inviting smile. She looked through my eyes to my soul and cared so deeply for me. I went up one more floor, and it was the home of my Great-Great Grandmother. Her face was vague, but her joy was present for me. Her room was old, and in a style I did not recognize. Her dress was long and her hair pulled back. I presume she was from the 1800's.

I felt I was visiting a corner of Heaven. Truly. Those who have gone on before me lingered there. Waiting, encouraging, hoping and pulling for me. I think Grandma Blom's presence was there because here on earth her body is present but her mind is gone, but I do believe her soul is with Jesus yet still with us in some way we with our capable minds cannot comprehend.

The Spirit of this dream has blanketed me for several weeks.

Why God sends these messages every now and then, when we don't ask for them, and when we least expect it, I don't know. I know that it blessed me in the most real sense of the word.

Handel's Messiah

I have been driving my children crazy this Christmas season. They say I am hurting their ears by playing Handel's Messiah over and over again. I can not help it. Blame my Dad and Mom. They always played this music around the Christmas season. I think my Dad had like 17 records total. Now we have the entire Messiah on 2 CD's. Much easier to keep track of.

This has been a hard, hard week. If you have read any of my previous posts, you will know that there have been 2 deaths in our "family" in the past 2 weeks. Both were tragic and horrible and unexpected.

I am sitting here working on a memorial for my dear friend Maribeth's son Jason that passed away on Saturday. I am glad no one else is home to "hurt their ears." I am comforted by the words of the Messiah that are straight from the Bible.

I asked myself a question I thought I'd never ask God this morning. "Where are you in all of this God?" Listening to the words of this song, I realize He's right here. And, he's right there with Maribeth and her Grandkids who just lost their dad.

Comfort ye, comfort ye My people

For every mountain and hill made low

and every valley will be exalted

And rough places plane

And crooked straight

And the Glory, the Glory of the Lord shall be revealed….

And all flesh shall sing together

Halleiluia, For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth.

His grace overpowers my questions…Take a listen. I hope it doesn't hurt your ears.

Doomed to a Lifetime of no Nail Polish

I have a severe allergy to Nail Polish.  I have been playing games with the fact for the past 10 years.  I have timed myself to exactly how many days, hours, and minutes I can go with out breaking out in hives.  I have enjoyed this game, kind of trying to cheat death I guess.  Well, this time, my genius game back-fired on me.  While Rob and I were out eating dinner at Yesterdays, my eye started watering profusely, then I started itching.  By the time I got home, my whole face had broken out in hives.  I got all the nail polish off, went to bed..then STOPPED BREATHING in my sleep.  (Only once though). I took a total of 5 Benedryl on Sunday, it did nothing.  I went to the Doctor today, got a shot in the you know where, and a big lecture from my doctor about how serious this is.  I got it.  No more nail polish.  I am so sad.  But, I'd rather be alive than have fancy nails.  Oh, but if I do die, can one of my good girlfriends PLEASE make sure that my nails are PAINTED a very bright red or pink?  I would be eternally grateful.