Steele (the Day)

Where Were You 9/11/01?

// September 11th, 2009 // 8 Comments » // Faith

I will forever remember the entwining of heart, mind, and body that day.

I was at work, and we had a whole room full of patients exercising, and the TVs were on as usual. Then the announcement came of the initial plane crashing into the World Trade Center.

The patient’s blood pressures and heart rates shot up to levels that made it unsafe to exercise. It was a powerful display of the physical manifestations of the stress response that all too often our heart patients ignore, but were literally recorded on paper that day. After all, that stress response is partly what brought many of them to us in the first place.

Never doubt the body’s physical ability to respond to the feelings in your heart and the thoughts in your head. You can read about it in self-help books, peruse research, and study the chemistry. But when you actually see it happening, see it in their eyes, and palpate it in their hearts, you understand how real it is.

Praying for peace today.

Tea today: Citrus green

Oceans and Mountains Iowa Style

// July 2nd, 2009 // 13 Comments » // Uncategorized

Ron Burgundy and I took a business-type trip with some clients last weekend aboard The American Lady for a dinner cruise down the Mississippi. A quick trip – one of us packs intentionally; the other packs randomly in an old leather satchel with a zipper that doesn’t work. Any guesses who’s who?

It wasn’t exactly “down the Mississippi” as we know it – rather it was down a little then back up, in about the time it took 50 people to go through a buffet line of iceberg lettuce, canned corn, have a few barley pops, and enjoy the sunset.

Nothing like the day-long trips we used to take. With Twizzlers. And Chex Mix. With three sunscreened, life-jacketed kids.

Just the two of us, on the road toward the river.
And the obligatory stop at the Dyersville DQ.
We have spent weeks, maybe months, on the river over the years, if you add up all of the weekends of boating we did when the kids were little. We just haven’t gone much in the past few years.

As they grew up, we heard “Can I bring a friend?”

Then a couple years later “Do I have to go?”

Then a couple years later “I’m not going to go.”

Now it’s “Dad, I’m taking the boat this weekend.”

Left behind.

RB doesn’t want to sell the boat because he’s waiting for that time warp to take us back to when the kids were 8, 6, and 5 again. So for now, it pretty much sits as a driveway ornament, and we’d I’d certainly sell it if anyone made us an offer. Unfortunately, nobody thinks our good memories are worth as much as he does. This boat has never been my favorite one, even though it’s a beautiful watercraft, and it barely has 100 hours on it.

Sleeps four. Head. Stove. Sink. Make us an offer.

It might be possible that I don’t like it because he bought it a few years ago without telling me. And it’s just too dang big for my liking.

“I gave the guy a low-ball offer and he took it. What was I supposed to do?”

Change your mind? Good thing I forgive easily.

He had to borrow a vehicle from the local dealership to go pick it up because we didn’t have a big enough truck to tow it. And then next, understandably, we had to buy a truck to tow it.

So boatless but river-bound, we arrived at our hotel to be greeted with a gift bag. Is there anything as cool as a gift bag? And a great room in a historical hotel?
We boarded and cruised, I just kicked back, knowing I wasn’t the one paying for the boat gas (though I would, just to catch a whiff of that smell…) and took in the beautiful Iowa/Illinois scenery. We often missed that as we were skiing, tubing, or eating Twizzlers. There are beautiful huge bluffs along the river. Iowa’s mountains, if you will. And the sunset as the background to the IA/IL bridge. The lock and dam system that keeps the water at just the right depth for the barges to do their hauling is simply an amazing engineering phenomenon. And the beautiful width of what appears to be a calm water, with the raging current underneath. You can never have too much respect for the current in the Mighty Mississippi. It will send you down to the next dam faster than you can say Mark Twain if you’re not paying attention. We went back Sunday afternoon and just gazed over the river, walking along the rocky shore. Ron Burgundy became pensive. Or prayerful. Or both. And then we drove home. Well, he drove. I slept.

He drives well with his knees, don’t you think? I always need a foot rub.

Tea today: Tazo Zen

Love from LuckyPuppy at the Bridge

// June 8th, 2009 // 17 Comments » // Faith, Family, My Fabulous Life

Dear Mom and Dad,

I’m at the Rainbow Bridge now. It’s so beautiful here – I know you are very sad and your tears feel like the soft, gentle rain that fell while you were burying me this morning, swaddled snugly in the boys’ old bedspread. Please know I’m running and playing like a puppy again. I have no pain. I don’t limp or fall and the rabbits actually let me catch the up here! But I just play with them, because up here, they are special, too. All of God’s creatures are free to run and play without fear. And I am no longer afraid of people with sunglasses.

My nearly 15 years of being a part of our family were the best any puppy could have had. I remember well the day Mom and KT came to pick me up after my birth mom was killed by a car and I had to fight my brothers and sisters for food in that barn. Yes, I was the runt, but KT knew right away I was meant for our family. She and the boys loved me so much; they never turned away my kisses. I always hated it when you sniffed my feet though. I never understood why you thought my feet smelled like Fritos.

Dad, the time we spent together was precious. Like sleeping very late, especially on cold winter mornings. And playing in the yard while you worked so hard to get the pond in tip-top shape for Mom. It’s fitting that I should be physically buried in a place we all love so much. I loved laying under the crab apple tree and just feeling the cool grass on my tummy. (And while you were digging today, I heard you say you felt like Tony Soprano. Stop it, Dad, – not even close)!

I’m really sorry for the “stink bomb” I left on your new suit that day you took me along when you interviewed President Rawlings, just because I was a new puppy and you simply didn’t want to leave me alone. And for all the “pupkiss” I left on the windows of your truck (except I agree with Mom – you never really noticed it). I just wasn’t a very good traveler, but I sure loved being with you! I loved boat rides! And that present I left in your truck on our way up to Dr. Taylor’s today? That was one last special gift to you!

Mom, you were the one who always walked and walked me. Wasn’t that fun? I never got tired! Oh, the places we’d go! And when I got a little lame, you so gently carried me home, even though at almost 60 pounds, I know I was a bit heavy for you. But you just kept saying “You’re not heavy, I’m your mother!” Remember when I ate the entire WonderRoast chicken you bought for Dad, bones and all? And how about when I ate all of Ben’s graduation mints while you guys were at church – and threw them up all over the carpet just before the party? And yet I always felt forgiven, loved, and pampered. Especially these last few months when you made me chicken and vegetable stew since I couldn’t eat my dog food. Not too many puppies have a personal chef. Those sweet potatoes were my favorite!

Yes, you are the best family any puppy could ask for.

You will hear my tags jingle, even now that I’m gone. You are not imagining it. I’m shaking them for you, just to tell you I love you and to keep your chin up. I know you miss me terribly, and I miss you too, but really, I am at peace and romping just like I did in this beautiful video Dad made in memory of me.

Thank you for all of the gentle, loving care. A puppy was never loved as much as I was.

LuckyPuppy

Lucky at the Bridge on Vimeo.

Tea today: Green with lemongrass

Our Waterfront, er, back Property

// June 2nd, 2009 // 13 Comments » // Uncategorized

After many years of family boating and spending day after day on the water, it was always in the back of our mind that someday we wanted some waterfront property. When we built our home back in 1996, it came to pass. Sort of.

All I really wanted was the sound of running water outside our bedroom bay window on a cool evening, relaxing me to slumber. Little did I realize how much that sound conjures up the urge to get up every hour and pee.

With the house, I no longer had the passion for another place to keep up. What about a small pond with maybe a fountain and a couple of fish? Puh-leeez???

We had our landscaper plot out the pond and estimate the cost. Ouch. $4K for the sound of running water in my sleep was a bit too steep. So we borrowed the blueprints and said we’d think about it.

Ron Burgundy doesn’t do anything small. Or easy. Or quickly. Bless his heart. The gradual hill that lingered in our back yard provided a vision that was not to be squelched. “How about we just build it into the hill a little? And have a little waterfall?”

“It’s just a hole in the ground. I can dig it.” Always the optimist, that boy. But dig it, he did.

The curious neighbors would come over and say “You’re digging that with a shovel? Most people use a backhoe! Or at least a bigger shovel!” He’d smile and sweat and say “Almost done” while mumbling “It really needs to be deeper.”

And deeper it got. When one waterfall didn’t seem like it captured the corner of the yard quite right, he decided on two. He went around the neighborhood collecting huge rocks from lots that were being dug for construction. And he made a trip to Stone City for limestone, loading and hauling 2 ton of rock in a 1 ton truck, pulling a trailer.

All. By. Himself.

Our pond as an infant.

And at its midsummer best.

We added lots of plants, including carpet roses that have looked worse each year, I had one little corner for an herb garden (which has moved to patio pots except for the chives and spearmint I can’t kill) and we bought two Koi and a baby fantail goldfish. Mary, Joseph, and baby Jesus. Fish have to have names, and these fish had personalities. You knew who was whom.

It took about 3 weeks for the disciples to follow, and after that, well, you know The Story. Literally thousands of followers. Including frogs.

Mary, and Joseph made it about 6 years – pretty remarkable considering our -20 degree Iowa winters (the temp below the frost line is a constant 50 degrees – so glad RB kept digging)! Jesus lived on, and after that we went with just fantailed goldfish – they were 19 cents a piece as compared to $30 each for the Koi. Only a few bit the dust by getting sucked up in the pump. But Jesus’ legacy of thousands of fishes prevails. Haven’t seen any loaves, yet.

Last year RB did a major overhaul when the liner tore and we lost most of our water, but amazingly, very few fish perished. So we he started over. He put in a bottom drain, new liner, new pumps, and restructured all the stone, including adding stone edging. It’s a teenager now (like the bags of mulch?), full of fish (take some, please), thousands of tadpoles, and more chocolate mint than you can shake a weed-whacker at. Whew, that smells so good, especially when grows in the rocks by the falls. You can smell it all over the yard. You can come take all you want of that, too. But like a growing child, this project needs some serious discipline.

My obligatory Lantanas, the unknown plant in Luke’s old football shoe for old times sake, and a new variegated sweet potato vine are about all we added. Other than a truckload of mulch. It will take a few weeks for the switchgrass to grow up, but my favorite part is the thornless hawthorne tree at the top. It has a unique clumped trunk and a perfect shape for shade.

This all puts my salad garden to shame – a simple two-foot strip behind the garage with mesclun, banana peppers, jalapenos, 2 heirloom tomatoes and one Better Boy.They usually don’t make it to a state of ripeness because of my insatiable passion for fried green tomatoes. But we will have salad all summer for a 59 cent pack of seed. It’s all we need.

Well, other than my herb pots! Can’t live a summer without fresh Italian parsley (half of which I’ve already used so it better grow fast), cilantro (my favorite herb-crack), rosemary, oregano, thyme, chives, and of course basil to help flavor my favorites – wheat berry salad and barley-mushroom salad on grilled asparagus.

Tonight, I’m blessed with the lingering presence of LuckyPuppy, who is probably spending his last summer laying under the crabapple tree. With sweet potato still on his nose from lunch.

He’s a little embarrassed to have his picture taken, being he’s in such a morbid state. But despite the tumor on his schnoz, lack of meat on his bones, spring in his step, and sparkle in his eye, he knows he’s loved. And he knows that once again tonight Mom chopped and peeled and stewed his vegetables for his wonderful homemade chicken soup. He even closes his eyes when you ask him to look at you, because then he thinks you can’t see him.

And no doubt he’s muttering “Why did I have to wait nearly 15 years and be so near death for her to feed me table food?”

And the two of us sit out there, listening to the waterfalls and think there is no more perfect refuge in the world today. There’s no more perfect place to pray. Maybe that’s why he has his eyes closed.

While his veggies were stewing, I slammed down half a Zola acai juice and I took a quick bike ride. On my way home, the sun was slipping behind the clouds, and I caught beautiful reminders of the One who gave me all of this exhilarating place I live. My legs were shot – I had not one smidgen of glycogen left by the time I hit the last hill for home, so it was a quick smoothie made with vanilla yogurt, blackberries, the other half of my Zola and a little ice. I guess that was supper. But these views, and returning to the sound of my running water made it all worth it.

Is this heaven? Pretty darned close. It’s Iowa,

Tea tonight: Jasmine

The Curious Case of Ron Burgundy

// December 26th, 2008 // 6 Comments » // Uncategorized

Coming down after Christmas. Emotionally, I mean.

It’s a grieving process, of sorts. After the catecholamine surge of getting the dinner on the table hot and steamy, seating people so nobodys feelings are hurt, going through the exhaustion that follows a 4 day meal prep (which is eaten in 20 minutes), shaking off the tryptophan tiredness, and the aftermath of an empty house…let’s just say it was a bit anticlimactic.

It gives me pause to remember why we celebrate all of this, anyway. Oh yea. Him. The Gift. The One who made all of this possible, the up and the down. The way He’d always planned it.

Now I feel better. No really, I do.

Rather than a season of good buys, this was a season of good byes for me.

Good bye to shopping – I did next-to-none other than a few gifts online. I didn’t try to out-do anybody, knowing full well He already had. Who can compete with that??

Good bye as the kids, one by one, return to their respective lives.

Good bye to LuckyPuppy, though despite the denial by everyone but me that he’s actually dying, his next Christmas will be from the Bridge.

Good bye to my laptop, dying a slow death as I type from an attached USB keyboard, all of which requires balance and coordination which said good bye many years ago.

Good bye to a year of hard work and some “uncomfortableness” which means simply bringing in another one of the same, yet not saying good bye to the faith and strength that has so graciously allowed me to perservere. The faith that allows me to firmly trust that I am enslaved to no one or nothing as long as I choose to follow Jesus with a servant’s heart, knowing this plan of His is unfolding in my life and I may as well submit or be dead. That’s a hard pill for a control freak to swallow. But I have learned so many lessons along the way.

Good bye to the BHTC. It was nice knowing you for over 15 years and I miss you and the friendships it provided. Even though I promised to stay in touch, I didn’t. Keep me in mind for Rudy’s on Wednesday. I’ll make it eventually. I know everyone was dying to receive my White Elephant gift this year. My laptop wallpaper even got the boot.

So as I feel the years creeping in and the tooth getting long, I gaze out the window this afternoon to see this:

Yes, that’s Ron Burgundy next to what appears to be a snowman.

And he’s talking to himself (Ron, not the snowman). It’s my guess he’s talking to the Great Snowmaker and He must also be the Great Multitasker because He’s listening to me at the same time.

And when the snowman’s done, he comes in to share his boyish joy (yes, one can be a “boy” at 58) and happily obliges me a photo op. This fully-grown man has taken time to relive the simple joy of recreating a childhood memory.

All. By. Himself. Sorta.

He took his sadness of the post-holiday empty-nest mood and purposefully, intentionally, cast it to the winter wind, smashed it into a snowball. And another. And another.

And stuck a carrot in it for good measure.
He needed very little earthly “stuff” to get this job done. Just the heaven-sent snow, random rocks, oh, and perhaps Christmas lights for a mouth?

It would serve us all well to go back to the simple things that can bring us happy thoughts. Safe thoughts. Peaceful thoughts.

It’s my guess that it wasn’t about the snowman, but the thoughts God placed on his heart this afternoon to create it.

Tea today: Green Ginger

Bustin’ out on a Saturday night

// December 21st, 2008 // 4 Comments » // Uncategorized

What kind of woman with a dead cell phone and a sick dog goes out into the minus 21 degree wind chill facing 2-3 ft drifts to drive 6 miles to church on a Saturday night alone?

A woman with her tree decorated.

A desperate woman with a really big truck.

A drift-bustin’ truck.

And in the silence of prayer, in the midst of an beautiful sermon about “listening” and a handful of church-goers…

there was a really loud God.

Tea tonight: Chinese flower

Baby Tears

// November 21st, 2008 // 3 Comments » // Uncategorized

I cried twice today.

Every mother’s prayer. Babies. Her babies. Those seemingly perfect-in-every way babies that grow up to be imperfect human beings who need each other and learn the hard way how much they need the Lord. So what was so sad about this beautiful picture I’ve put in your mind?

I didn’t say I was sad. I merely said I was crying.

I held a baby boy this evening, almost 16 weeks old. Peach-fuzz-baby-smelling head. Chipmunk cheeks. He fussed, then I did the baby sway with him (I haven’t forgotten how because I still do it in church with no baby in my arms). He fell asleep on my shoulder, so I sagged my weary back into the couch and this onesied-bundle did the baby-wriggle-gonna-nestle-up-real-close-heavy-sigh REM sleep thing on my chest. And as I covered him with his blanket, I cried. It was a moment that took me back 31 years and that overwhelming feeling of baby passion just overtook me. Sometimes it doesn’t even matter whose baby it is.

And then.

I went to see the unveiling of the engagement pictures of my eldest baby and his beautiful fiance. Fresh faces. Brilliant leaves. Autumn sunshine. Adoring smiles. Sappy (albeit tear-jerking) music background.

I cried again.

I cried out of gratitude for three healthy grown babies and a soon-to-be daughter-in-law. I cried out of angst for days gone by. I cried over mistakes I’ve made and things left undone that may or may not have changed anything at all. The embrace of His grace now brings me peace in my exhaustion and I’m ready to fall into that snuggly sleep just like those babies used to. Without the onesie.

But just one more time, I think I’ll cry.

Three times today.

Tea tonight: Numi Monkey King

(Un)Comfortable in My Own Sin

// November 14th, 2008 // 2 Comments » // Uncategorized

I just finished reading (and studying, and discussing) Respectable Sins, by Jerry Bridges with an awesome group of women at church. It was a book I could have finished in a day, and normally would have, but taking a book like this and really digging in for 10 weeks and studying, soaking up the concepts, and feeling convicted, rather than just reading and thinking “How true” or “He’s exactly right”….well, it was just an experience I really want to have again. Soon. That, coupled with getting to know other women who are 25 years younger and 25 years older, yet sharing common bonds of being stuck in those sins we tolerate as women, wives, mothers….it was truly a spiritual experience for me.

It’s one thing to be comfortable in your own skin (which has taken me many years) but to be comfortable in your own sin, now that’s a different story. And one I plan to rewrite. Thank goodness for that Gift of Grace, for it’s never too late to write your story.

What’s your story about His glory?

Tea tonight: Republic of Tea Honey Ginger

Doggone It.

// October 4th, 2008 // No Comments » // Uncategorized

It was, quite simply, only a matter of time.

No tea tonight – can’t swallow

I was right.

// September 29th, 2008 // No Comments » // Uncategorized