A Father’s Calling
A Father’s Calling-(1)
On August 28, 1982, Carl and Joyce Lambert sat by their daughter Karen’s bedside in shock and grief. The day before, Karen had been a bouncy, spirited sixteen-year-old, a good student and budding musician. Then, the call that every parent dreads: there had been an accident. Karen had been on her way home from a flute lesson when her car overturned on an onramp. She was thrown through the windshield and landed on the pavement, where she was hit by another car. As Carl and Joyce hovered over her in intensive care, Carl felt a strong sense of helplessness. His daughter was not expected to live, and there was nothing he could do to help.To be continue...
A Genius for Loving
A Genius for Loving-(3)
I had learned to watch other children and raise my hand when they did during group testing . The “whisper test,” however, required a different kind of deception: Each child would go to the door of the classroom, turn sideways, close one ear with a finger, and the teacher would whisper something from her desk, which the child would repeat. Then the same thing was done for the other ear. I had discovered in kindergarten that nobody checked to see how tightly the untested ear was being covered, so I merely pretended to block mine.
As usual I was last, but all through the testing I wondered what Mrs Leonard might say to me. I knew from previous years that the teacher whisper things like, “The sky is blue” or “Do you have new shoes?”
My turn came. I turned my bad ear to her, plugging the other solidly with my finger, then gently backed my finger out enough to be able to hear. I waited, and then came the words that God had surely put into her mouth, seven words that changed my life forever.
Mrs. Leonard, the pretty, fragrant teacher I adored, said softly, “I wish you were my little girl.”
Marry Ann Bird
A Genius for Loving
A Genius for Loving-(2)
And then I entered second grade and Mrs. Leonard’s class.
I never knew what her first name was-just Mrs. Leonard. She was round and pretty and fragrant, with chbby arms and shining brown hair and warm, dark eyes that smiled even on the rare occasions when her mouth didn’t. Everyone adored her. But no one came to love her more than I did. And for a special reason.
The time came for the annual “hearing tests” given at our school. I was barely able to hear anything out of one ear, and was not about to reveal yet another problem that would single me out as different. And so I cheated.To be continue...
Well now we have an interesting new discovery of a gigantic flying dinosaur. Previously Petrosaurs were highly disputed as flying animals because of the difficulty of the physiology of flight as we understand it today. However the overwhelming fossile evidence that indicated not just that the animal flew but flew easily has largely confounded experts in modern bird physiology.
To make a long discussion short the issue is material strength and metabolisim. Bird wings are extrodinarily fragile constructs. Anyone that has ever held a flight bird in their hand knows just how in substantial they are and how easy it is to break them. Now imagine such a structure that stretched some 8-9 meters to a side and then flap it hard enough to lift the weight of a bird with a 18 meter wing span. Experts were puzzled before by earlier examples of the capable flyers that petroasaurs evidently were and they have all be considerably smaller than this monster that they just found. The argument in short is that bones can not be both strong enough and light enough for what would be needed to support a bird flapping such large wings. And when you start with that problem to begin with it dosn't get any easier as you add strength.. because to do that you need stronger bones which means heavier bones which mean more force must be generated.
I have no doubt that in the years to come there will be some argument about the flying ability of this new find very similar in vein to the old petrosarus debate. But the evidence in support here seems to be of a similar nature so the question is more HOW did it fly than that it did or did not. and it truly is a puzzle. If you have never encountered the size issue debate of dinosaurs from the understanding of modern biology it is a fascinating discussion. Moden biologists have major problems with the giant sizes of some dinosaurs. Discussions about the sauropod neck are endless as are discussions about the athletic capacity of T-Rex. All evidence seems to point to animals that were highly active, but modern biologists often insist it is impossible. That the shear size presents problems.
A Genius for Loving
A Genius for Loving(1)
I grew up knowing I was different, and I hated it. I was born with a cleft palate, and when I started to go to school, my classmates-who were constantly teasing-made it clear to me how I must look to others; a little girl with a misshapen lip, crooked nose lopsided teeth, and hollow and somewhat garbled speech. I couldn’t even blow up a balloon without holding my nose, and when I bent to drink from a fountain, the water spilled out of my nose.
When schoolmates asked, “What happen to your lip?” I’d tell them that I’d fallen as a baby and cut it on a piece of glass. Somehow it seemed more acceptable to have suffered an accident than to have been born different. By the age of seven, I was convinced that no one outside my own family could ever love me. Or even like me.
to be continue...
Love that Lasts-(3)
There is faith. We both know that God loves us; and that, though life is difficult, He will strengthen and help us. Last week, Scott was on call and already overloaded by the necessary extra hours he spent at the hospital. On Tuesday night, a good friend from church came over and tearfully confessed her fears that her husband, who has cancer, is losing his courageous battle. We did our best to comfort and advise her.
On Wednesday, I went to lunch with a friend who is struggling to reshape her life after her husband left her. Together, we talked, laughed, got angry and figured out the blessings she could still count. On Thursday, a neighbour called who needed to talk about the frightening effects of Alzheimer’s disease, because it was changing her father-in-law’s personality.
On Friday, my dearest childhood friend called long distance to break the sad news that her father had died. Afetr a minute, I hung up the phone and thought, “This is too much pain and heartache for one week.” After saying a prayer, I descended the stairs to run some necessary errands. Through my tears, I noticed the boisterous orange blossoms of the gladious outside my window, I heard the delighted laughter of my son and his friend as they created Lego spaceships in our basement. After backing my van out of my driveway, I caught sight of three brilliant colored hot air ballons floating in the distant turquoise sky. Moments later, I looked left just in time to see a wedding party emerge from a neighbour’s house. The bride, dressed in satin and lace, tossed her bouquet to her cheering friends.
That night, as I told my husband about these events, we acknowledged the cycles of life and the joys that counter the sorrows. We also recognised the satisfaction we felt when we assisted people with the weight of their burdens. It was enough to keep us going.
Finally, there is knowing. I know Scott will throw his laundry just shy of the hamper every night; he’ll be perennially late to most appointments; he’ll leave the newspaper scattered across the floor three out of five times; and he’ll eat the last chocolate in the box. He knows I sleep with a pillow over my head; I’ll lock us out of the house or the car on a regular basis; I’ll have a pretrip fit before we leave on vacation; and I will also eat the last chocolate in the box.
I guess our love lasts because it’s comfortable. No, the sky is not bluer-it’s just a familiar hue. We’re not noticing many new things about life nor each other, but we like what we’ve noticed and benefit from relearning. Music is still meningful because we know the harmonies. We don’t feel particularly young. We’ve experienced too much that’s contributed to growth and wisdom, taken its toll on our bodies, and created our mixed bag of treasured memories.
I hope we’ve got what it takes to make our love last. As a naive bride, I had Scott’s wedding band engraved with this Robert Browning line: “Grow old along with me!” We’re following those instructions.
Annette Paxman Bowen.
Love that Lasts-(2)
There is understanding. I understand why he must play basketball with the guys regularly. And he understands why, about once a year, I must get away from the house, the phone, the kids-and even him-to meet my sisters somewhere for a few days of nonstop talking and laughing.
There is a lot of sharing. Not only do we share the bills, the household worries, the parental burdens and the cooking, we also share ideas. Scott came home from a medical convention last month and presented me with a copy of a thick historical novel. Then he touched my heart by telling me he had read the book on the plane. This confession comes from a man who loves science fiction and Tom Clancy thrillers. He read it because he wanted to be able to share ideas about the book after I’d read it.
There is comfort. It’s the comfort in knowing that I can tell the waitress waiting for our dessert order, “Just bring me a fork. I’ll have a bit of this. “I know that one bit is allowed. If Scott really wants every single bit of his dessert to himself, I know he will say, “Sorry, order your own!” And if he’s not up to sharing, I’m not offended.
There is blessed forgiveness. When I’m too loud and crazy at parties and have embarassed us both by not knowing when to shut up, Scott forgives me. He knows I can’t resist a good one-liner. I forgave him when he came home and confessed he’d lost some of our investment savings in the stock market. I gave him a hug and bravely said, “It’s okay. It’s only money.”
There is “synergism.”. That is we can produce something that is greater than the two of us. (Take for instance, our kids.) When we put our heads together to identify a problem and all the possible solutions, sometimes we’re absolutely, as a team, nothing short of brilliant.
There is sensitivity. I know not to jump all over him for being late when he comes home from the hospital with a certain look in his eyes; I can see that it’s been a tough day. Last week, he walked through the door with that look. After he’d some time with the kids and had eaten his warmed-up dinner, I asked, “What happened?” He told me about a sixty-year-old woman who had a stroke.
He’d worked with her for hours, but she was stillin a coma. When he’d returned to her hospital room to check on her, he had been moved to tears by the sight of the woman’s husband standing beside her bed, stroking her hand. Scott wept again as he told me he didn’t think the woman would survive. And how was he going to tell this husband of forty years that his wife would probably never recover?
I shed a few tears myself. Because of the medical crisis. Because there are stll people who have been married for forty years. Because my husband is still moved and concerned, even after twenty-five years of hospital rooms and dying patients.
Love That Lasts-(1)
I have a friend who is falling in love. She honestly claims that the sky is bluer; she’s noticed the delicate fragrance of the lilacs beside her garage, though she previously walked past them without stopping; and Mozart moves her to tears. In short, life has never been so exciting.
“I’m young again!” she shouts exuberantly. I have to admit, the guy must be better than Weight Watchers. She has lost fifteen pounds and looks like a cover girl. She’s taken a new interest in the shape of her thighs.
As my friends raves on about her new love, I’ve taken a good look at my old one. My hubby, Scott, hasn’t yet had his mid-life crisis, but he’s entitled to one. His hairline is receding. He’s gained ifteen pounds. Once a marathon runner, all muscles and sinew, he now only runs down hospital halls. His body shows the signs of long work hours and too many candy bars. Yet, he can still give me a certain look across a restaurant table, and I want to ask for the check immediately and head for home.
My natural glow has dimmed a bit after twenty-five years. I can look pretty good when I have to, but I don’t think twice about hanging around the house in my baggy sweat pants, old jersey and my husband’s gray wool socks.
My friends asked me, “What will make this love last?” I told her the truth: “I don’t know.” Then she asked, “Why does your love last?” I told her I’d think about it.
I’ve run through all the obvious reasons: commitment, shared interests, unselfishness, physical attractions, the ability to communicate. Yet there’s more.
We still have fun. Spontaneous good times. Yesterday, after slipping the rubber band off the rolled-up newspaper, he flipped it playfully at me: this led to all-out war. Last Saturday, while at the grocery store, we split the list and then raced each other to see who could gather the required items and make it to the check-out stand first. We’ve made an art form out of our prepared gourment dinners. Even washing dishes together can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.
And there are surprises: surprises in daily living. One time I came home from work to find a note on the front door. This note led me to another note, then to another, until-many notes later-I was directed to the walk-in closet. I opened the door to find cott holding a “pot of gold”(my cooking kettle) and the “treasure” of a gift package. He had been jumping back in the closet for an hour, every time he heard footsteps on the stairs. Ever since then, I often leave him notes on the mirror or slip little presents under his pillow.
Hello, ladies and gentleman. I have something to share with you. A few stories that will touch your soul. Enjoy (^_^)