speeding through chapters

dear rory,

I realize that I have not written for a long while, and for that I am sorry. as it is, this letter will most likely be rushed and unpolished (and considering I just ate a bunch of chocolate, it could be rather curious), but please bear with me.

and if you possibly can, please help me answer the following question:

where on earth has time flown?!?!?!?

doesn't it know winter is long gone? it's time to migrate back! start flapping those wings! come back up north! preferably to northern Illinois! to a little brick house with a bright red door! to a somewhat frazzled blonde! I NEED MORE TIME!

*pants for air*

*regains composure*

sometimes I feel like my life is a boring book. a new chapter can be written about once every six months with a dull title like "school" or "more school" or "GUESS WHAT? more school". but sometimes life comes at me fast and I feel like I can't read my own story quickly enough. I'm turning the pages as fast as I can, but the new chapters have bizarre names and the plot has weird twists that I would never have expected and everyday I wake up and wonder, "what is the Author writing today? am I ready for whatever adventures He gives me?"

recently, my chapters have looked something like this:

Chapter 487: a mini zoo-

that's what our backyard has become. currently it is filled with eleven-ish chicks (I didn't take the time to properly count), an old dog house waiting to be renovated into a coop (stay tuned for the next addition of Extreme Makeover Chicken Coop Edition.... ), a fluffy dog who is afraid of little noisy chicks, and a bunch of the neighborhood kids (whom I am considering charging a fee to see the Smock Circus).

as it is, we're passing out popsicles and generally laughing (and occassionally shrieking when a mess of feathers accidentally flies in our faces) as we try to chase the chickens out of the rose bush and back into their home in the garage.

Chapter 488: a mini store-

that's what the garage has become. it is filled with roller blades and old doors and stop signs and street names and bikes and vaccuums and a refrigerator and a box full of chickens and saws and hammers and nails and sleds and counters and scooters and exercise equipment and old tables and chairs and paint and stain and popsicles. and it seems like people are stopping by quite often to borrow this or that, see a chick, grab a frozen treat, and leave. it's the hang out place. it's my dad's work place. it's the store all the junk place. it's the home of our future breakfasts (not the chickens I hope. just their eggs. though they do sort of remind me of chicken nuggets... mmmm. ;)

Chapter 489: a mini army-

that's what our family has become. my mother is expecting. no, not expecting a package. she's expecting a child. a child who will hopefully make it's appearance in the world sometime next January (if it was wise, it would wait til spring when the weather is nicer... but mother probably wouldn't like that, and to be honest, I'm rather anxious to meet this baby myself). soon there will be at least six of us (if not more... twins do run on my mother's side.... makes them an awful nuisance to catch when they're born... *somebody punch me for being so punny*... and if you don't get it, just keep reading and pretend I didn't try to make a joke). dad is rooting for a boy. so am I. the others have yet to decide. I think Megan would be happy with a squirrel, so her vote doesn't count. nonetheless, a baby is coming, and we are completely overjoyed and starting to get overcrowded. which means figuring out rooms and who sleeps where. dad offered to sleep in the chicken coop... mom laughed. I nodded approvingly. then dad set his jaw, narrowed his eyes, and him and I had a fake boxing match. the outcome is that dad gets to stay in the house after all.

Chapter 490: a mini taxi service-

that's what we're running over here these days. my dad, mom, and I all have regular jobs now and my middle sister often babysits. it feels like we're constantly driving and running and skipping and hopping (okay, well, I'm the only one who really skips and hops anywhere... what can I say? skipping and hopping is fun!). Mom is working at a health foods store and I really hope she doesn't become too much of a health nut, because Cheetos and I have recently reconnected after our long seperartion (my sickness) and I really don't want to break up again. I'm working at a BBQ Smokehouse restaurant and I have found that smelling like smoked pig 24/7 is really quite pleasant. plus, if I get hungry in the night, sometimes I wake up and find that I still have bbq sauce on my arm (which makes for a lovely midnight snack).

Chapter 491: a mini victory dance-

I'M ALMOST DONE WITH HIGHSCHOOL. enough said.

anyways. I won't bother you with any more chapters. but you get the point.

and I know I'm not the only one with a busy life. my dear, dear friends are constantly out running too and sometimes I feel like we have more of a chance of crossing paths than Neptune and Pluto do.

"life's like an hour glass glued to the the table..."

I have nothing terribly deep to add to what I've said.

only this

"WHATEVER YOU DO, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men." Colossians 3:23

Nobody has an emergency break to slow down time when life is driving their car at 150 mph. Nobody has a way to speed things up when the speed limit God has set for the stretch of road they're on is 15 mph.

but I do know this: in the fast times, in the slow times, do everything for God's glory.

and trust Him. He knows what He is doing. He knows where life is taking you.

He writes the boring and exciting chapters.

until we meet again,
muffin

life is beautiful

dear muffin,

she was nervous. I couldn't blame her.

terse replies were all I could draw out as I finished my work; her face was taut, expressionless.

it's doubtful that anyone in the history of the scalpel has not been nervous in those moments of waiting. moments before the wheels begin to clatter along tile floor, rolling past sterile operating rooms. after all, the idea of having one's insides opened to the world has never been a pleasant one. 

"okay then! I think we're ready." the nurse deposited an armful of IV bags & tubing into my waiting hands. "make sure you keep that piggyback higher than the primary fluid," she said in my direction. 

we helped the woman onto her feet, allowing her to smooth back disheveled blonde hair, & began the procession. the nurse led the way with routine briskness, followed by the patient herself. I took up the rear, holding the IV bags at shoulder height & keeping the train of tubing off the floor. 

her surgery was scheduled for 0800 hours, which meant it was already 30 minutes behind schedule. but no matter. the mass of foreign tissue growing below her diaphragm would be removed, the incision sutured, & before she knew it the whole ordeal would be over. still, no reassurance can shorten the moments before the plunge.

inside the operating room, every surface glinted in sterile perfection. scalpels arrayed with mathematical precision, gauze neatly stacked, suction equipment hooked up & tested. sterile blue drapes were spread over the table, ready to receive the patient.

"and, the surgeons are here." announced the circulating nurse. "Michelle, you want to get them ready?" the scrub nurse nodded & began unfolding blue plastic gowns as the surgeons poured into the room, followed by the woman's husband-- who looked ready to faint. while they scrubbed in, the anesthesiologist struck up small talk with the patient.

"so. how're you feeling?" he asked after a moment. the woman laughed shakily.

"you know that part on a roller coaster, when you're going up & all you can hear is 'click...click...click...?' that's what this part feels like." 

"alright!" announced the head surgeon. "we're a go." the light glanced off the first scalpel as it went in. 

blood. blood trickling down a swollen abdomen. the smell of burnt flesh as cautery hits blood vessel. the surgeons opened the skin with a smooth cut & then burned back the yellow fat beneath. I moved to get a better view.

there; I could see it. a mass rose into sight as the abdominal muscles separated. it was smooth, taupe-colored, with a complex pattern of blood vessels visible beneath the surface. it was larger than I had imagined. the surgeon made one final slice, reached in deep, & pulled. as he lifted, the foreign body came free in his hands.

he held up 8 pounds, 3 ounces of tissue. & as he moved it towards the light, it kicked him.

the room launched into motion. nurses closed in, transferring the now-wriggling mass to a table. the table disappeared from view as blue scrubs bent over to perform a well-practiced dance.

"heart rate 150."

"BP 67 over 35."

"O2 sats?"

"68."

"looks good!" announced the pediatrician, laying aside his stethoscope. a nurse gathered up the bundle & brought it over to the woman & her husband, who was furiously rubbing away tears of joy.

"Here you go," said the nurse with a smile. "Congratulations; she's beautiful."

-rory