As Plain as the Mud on my Face!

Oh! How I wish I had pictures of this great story to share with you, but alas, they are feeble.

Camping. It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but we really enjoy it. Spending time outside soaking up the smell and sights and sounds of God’s creation is exhilarating to us.Two weeks ago we hooked up with four other families and ventured off to spend four days in the great outdoors. Bliss!

The very first day, several people went hiking, but one other dad (Dad #2) and myself stayed behind to watch the crowd of kids who wanted to take a dip in the creek and swim in the pool. Yes, this campground had a pool. Posh, I realize. The sun was shining, the wind was refraining from tousling our hair and the gurgling of the creek was calling to us.

Look very closely at the small patch of brick-colored muddy bank on the left side of this picture. It seems harmless. It was not. That was the slipperiest mud on God’s green earth. I told the girls several times, “Be careful! The mud is slippery!” The girls dragged me, my backpack and my folding chair to a place up the creek to a delectable rope swing with four huge knots. To my surprise, all three girls took turns swinging out over the water, but not dropping in as it was a tad chilly. I was standing still in the slippery mud. Then I was lying face down in the awful tasting slippery mud. In between those two events there was a loud scream and involuntary throwing of the backpack and the folding chair. I landed on my knees, my elbows and my face. Lovely. I so wish I had a picture of my mud-caked self. Slowly I stood and started to wipe the mud off my arms and face and spit out the mud and gravel that didn’t taste so yummy.

The kids who I was “watching” and five other boys circled me with mouths a gaping and wide eyes. Mama down. Red Alert! Using my water bottle, one of the boys (a stranger!) slowly poured into my hands so I could “wash” them and then rinse my face. I knew I needed a shower but then one of the other boys yelled, “Your leg is bleeding really badly!” Glancing down, I noticed the front of one shin was muddy brown and the other was bright red. Blood red, to be exact.  A large gash was just starting to pain me in my right knee. We poured some of the bottled water on the cut and then I held it shut with Kleenex, because we all know that Kleenex is sanitary and won’t fall apart or get inside a large gash.

The girls ran to find Dad #2. The boys ran off too, I wasn’t sure where. Slowly I limped up the path, holding my Kleenexed knee. The first campsite I arrived at harbored a full-on 38-foot motor coach, complete with a fancy “camping” lady with large, coiffed blonde hair, a long skinny cigarette, a three carat diamond ring on her manicured tennis-bracelet-ed hand and a newly-shaved white poodle with a green bow on each ear. At first site of a muddy, bloody woman limping out of the jungle she dropped that poor dog, put her smoke on a wood pile (!) and ran for her hose to help me get cleaned up. When asked what I needed I requested a cup of water to rinse and spit several times. The kind lady hosed off my pants, legs and shoes. I remember mentioning her smoking woodpile at some point, and there wasn’t a fire later, so she must have taken care of it.

Some of the boys who had witnessed my downfall returned with their very German father and a very well equipped first aid kit. At this point Dad #2 from our group drove up with the rescue vehicle. I was patched up and put in the car on several of the kind lady’s towels. Five stitches, three x-rays and three hours later, we were back at the campground eating grilled cheese sandwiches.  Easy peasey.

Five stitches. No biggie. I figured it would slow me down for a day or two. I figured incorrectly. An infection set in and my wounded leg turned burning-hot red and swelled up from my knee to my foot. Then I got to go visit another ER! A shot in my backside and some strong antibiotics were administered. I was on the couch for NINE DAYS!  NINE DAYS! Because of some slippery mud! The infection stayed for two weeks, but it finally relented and I could walk again.

So the moral of the story is: don’t cry over slippery mud…. no…. falls well that bends well… no… as plain as the mud on my face…… my way or the mud way….. five stitches in time saves nine?… (I’ll quit now.)

“Be Ready!”

In March 2012, our eldest child flew off alone to Tulsa, Oklahoma (OKLAHOMA!) to interview for a scholarship for the college she REALLY wanted to go to.  It was one of the few colleges that made the cut of still believing and upholding the godly standards on which it was founded.  As she was a thousand miles away that weekend, I had one of those God moments where I heard His still small voice in my spirit (in the bathroom, but that is beside the point) whisper, “Be ready!”  That was it.  Be ready.  READY FOR WHAT? I wanted to scream…. in fact, I probably did.

Of course in my own little control-freak mind I made my list of what I thought I needed to be ready for… or with… or against… or because of…   (See? It was pointless!)  I prayed up more.  I Bible studied harder.  I threw myself into money making. I lectured.  I bit my tongue.  (See? It was pointless!)  I should have been focusing on Psalms 46:10, “Be still and know that I am God.”  Oh yeah. Right.

We knew the cost of school for our sweet girl would cause us to walk the tightrope of faith financially.  And we have.  And God has shown up.  Over and over again.  Please let me climb up on my testimony box and shout out some praises for a minute or two… or three, of how God has shown up in the last THREE WEEKS!

Three days before our Canadian-thick-blooded relatives were coming to stay with us in sunny Arizona, the air conditioner decided to only work for ten seconds at a time in three minute intervals.  For those who don’t live in Arizona, that is not quite adequate for keeping the house at a comfortable temperature for Canadians.  (I was fine, but this is not about me.)  I called Rob the A/C repairman.  He came out and visited me for three hours to the tune of $1,300.  Ouch!  Thankfully Rob and my husband Rick are members of Tradesource, where private businesses can barter services, so we only had to fork over $370…. of the $380 in our account at that time.  I wrote the check and sent God a little reminder that we may need Him to show up in the next few days if our relatives planned on eating while visiting.  “Hey, welcome!  It’s canned tuna week!” 

Corresponding with the northerly visitors, Larisa, our college girl was also coming home for Spring Break with her roommate!  WhoooHOooOOooo!  Party time! (and you thought the cafeteria food was bad!)  I scrubbed the visitor bathroom until it gleamed like Joel Osteen’s teeth.  Seriously!  The only thing I needed to purchase was a $2 shower liner so I headed off to Bed Bath and Beyond with four hours and $8 to spare!  Perfect!

Two miles into my three mile adventure, a girl pulled right out in front of me and I t-boned her.  This is what I remember: Air bags. Checking if Nora (9 year old) was ok in the seat behind me.  Nice strangers who stopped to help. Policemen. Firemen. OH DANG IT DO MY LEGS HURT! My dad coming.  ER visit (without my boys… that was rare!). And then I arrived on the yellow couch in the living room 21 days ago.  I’m still there.  What I am allowed to share is that I am wounded and receiving care. God protected us BIG TIME!  (I can walk. I can cry.  I can brush my teeth with my left hand. I can type. And I’m really good at taking pills every 4 to 6 hours that may cause dry mouth, chills, panic attacks, anxiety, inability to sit still, seizures, delusions, fainting, itching, slurred speech, etc. etc. etc.)  Is THIS what I needed to be ready for?

That was a Saturday.  The following Monday the Canadians showed up at the doorstep along with the homeschoolers and various other peeps who delivered meals for two straight weeks (and now we’re on an every-other day schedule for two MORE weeks.)  Not just pasta dinner.  Gourmet chicken with French names and seasoned vegetables that were hoarded by my children. And not just dinner.  Breakfast pie showed up.  Oranges by the bag full. And pizzas and sandwich meat and fruit bowls and chocolate cake and bagels and cream cheese and whole grain bread that I never buy and potato salad and ice cream sandwiches and milk and ALL the food that was necessary to feed our family and the four visiting guests while $8 sat in our bank account.  Maybe THIS was what I needed to be ready for.

The van may or may not be totaled.  We’ll see.  We got a rental car that I am too delusional to drive….. and my children are not over 21, so they can’t drive it either.  FUN!  My husband figured he may as well take it to work and save money on gas…. and he rear-ended a nice lady who stopped really rapidly on the highway.  IN THE RENTAL CAR. Can you spell deductible?  So, my hubby took it back and got another rental car that looked exactly the same, except the seats were tan, not black.  He came home that night and took his brother to the store.  His brother mentioned, “I could have sworn these seats were black!”  Um, yeah.  Is THIS what we needed to be ready for?

If that hoopla wasn’t enough to make my mother hit her replaced knees in fervent prayer, yesterday my hard-working son (who has a Jedi braid, but that is not crucial to the storyline) volunteered to spend his day helping his cycling team set up for a race last night.  As if our family has big targets on our backsides at the moment, a loathsome individual made off with my son’s $8,000 bike. Yes, you read that right. A two-wheeled pedal bike… $8,000.  He is sponsored.  It is on loan to him.  We did not pay $8,000 for a bike with which I can do one-handed curls. I learned about the lifted bicycle from my husband who left me a message on my phone while I was in my 6th doctor’s appointment to end the week.  WAS THIS WHAT WE WERE SUPPOSED TO BE READY FOR???

Today my bikeless son’s facebook status reads, “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him and have been called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28 God showed me this yesterday.”

Besides messaging me about the missing bike, my husband prayed.  And then he posted a little ditty on facebook about the bike and asked others to pray.  Because we know that prayer works.  A friend of ours in Canada who was supposed to be paying attention in a business meeting, who happens to hate injustice and loves hardworking youngsters, went on facebook and read Rick’s message……. and bought a new bike for my son.  We were close to speechless.  A tearful thank you was all I could get out. What I loved about this was all the glory was given to God… in front of the teammates.  By son and father, without shame.  Maybe THIS is what we were supposed to be ready for?

Be ready…. to live your life for God no matter what.  Be ready …. to rely on God for everything.  Be ready…. in good times and bad to praise God, for He is worthy of our praise.  Be ready.

How We Celebrated Elvis’ Birthday

January 8, 2009. It started out as any ordinary day in the Crosby household… yet, ordinary days for the Crosbys are not that ordinary, I’ve come to realize. I needed to get some blood work done for our adoption physicals and packed up the boys, who chose to wear hats instead of combing their grossly, grown-out hair. (Sad news about scissors is coming their way later.)

We checked in at the lab and 23 of the 24 chairs in the waiting room were filled. oh yes, I counted! NOT a good sign. The boys decided to sit on a sofa in the lobby and play video games. Fine. After 45 minutes, I asked how much longer until my name was called. Another half hour. I went to the lobby to inform the boys and Austin pointed to his brother across the room without looking up from his game and calmly stated, “He’s choking.”

There I found Keeve crying, chocking, sweaty and red. He ran to the bathroom and threw up his breakfast. (My apologies if you’re eating while reading.) After much questioning, he explained that he swallowed the metal end of a cowboy belt…. and it was stuck in his throat. This son of mine has swallowed ridiculously stupid objects for years… but this one was BIG in comparison.

Fortunately, we were across the street from the ER and arrived in three minutes.  X-rays were taken… and boy does metal show up well.

The nurses were going to give him a numbing drink for his throat before putting in an IV to put him asleep for the removal of said metal object. Right before that all happened he threw up again…. into a blue plastic bag with a 5″ metal rim that I was holding for such a time as this. Keeve informed me that the end of the belt came out. Praise God. So the boys enjoyed Popsicles, Keeve was given a high dose of Motrin for swelling and pain, we paid $150…. and then we went to In-N-Out Burger…. for Elvis’ birthday. Get it? In-N-Out… so appropriate for the morning’s festivities!

We made a quick stop at a store for a dog muzzle for Keeve (just kidding), I can’t remember what we were shopping for. But Austin suggested, “Since you just spent $150 on Keeve, can you buy me a toy?” Um, no. (Austin’s ER visits triple the rest of the four family members put together.)

Later, when the excitement wore off, we did take in an advanced showing of Hotel for Dogs, (we renamed it Heartbreak Hotel for Dogs, being on Elvis’ birthday and all) which turned out to be an adoption movie… for dogs and kids. Yes, I cried in the end. Then we went to the Coyotes game against the Lightning. We wondered if it might be the last time we see Mark Recchi play here in Phoenix??  I hope not, but he is 41 this year.

The ordinary day ended with us picking up our beloved computer. Sweetness. Now to find all the start-up discs for the web-cam and the printer. Good grief, where do those things hide???