IT'S A BOY!

When Katy was born, I promised myself she wouldn't be slighted, as the third child syndrome threatens. So we took lots of pictures. As you can see she wasn't nearly as thrilled to be here, as her siblings were to have her as their new plaything!

I bought her a baby book, similar to Kimberly's pink

one and Kent's blue one.

Thirteen years later, Katy was thumbing through her yellow baby book. She'd giggle at the pictures, "Aw-www" at her little footprints and smile as she read her 'firsts.' Suddenly she exclaimed, "Mo-ooom! You got the writing in my book mixed up with Kent's."

"What?"

"Mama, right here under 'Daddy's first words upon seeing me were____' you wrote that he said, 'It's a boy!' This is MY book, not Kent's! You got mixed up."

"Katy, sit down with me. I've been waiting thirteen years to tell you this."

Her scowl softened into curiosity.

"Honey, you see when your brother and sister were born, they didn't allow the fathers into the delivery room. By the time you came along, fathers were more a part of their children's births. So you were the only one Daddy actually saw born."

"But, Mom..."

"Hang on, Honey. Another thing back then was parents didn't know if their child was a boy or girl until that moment of birth. Sonograms came along later. Dad was leaning over my head when you made your grand entrance into the world, so he asked the doctor, 'What is it?' since he couldn't quite see you yet.

The doctor spun you around, umbilical cord still between your legs, and told Dad, 'See for yourself.'

Daddy saw the CORD and his first words were, 'It's a BOY!'

'Better look again,' the doc said, lifting up the cord.

When I filled in your baby book, Daddy really didn't want me to write this, but it's the true history and I can't change his first words. I've just been waiting all these years for you to get old enough!"

Our very feminine Katy laughed and loved the story of her birth. Me too. Not so much Doug though.

I could have embellished his first words, adding my own commentary, like "WHAT a boy!" or when they cut the cord, something like, "He's not Jewish!" or "There go the bass notes!"

He still winces a bit and gives a crooked grin while we laugh hysterically at the delivery room story. One day I'll have to tell you about Doug in the labor room!

True confessions,

Kathy

‎"Humblearious"--(My own coined word, defined):
When the editor/writer/mentor who trained you, writes a blog comment pointing out a misspelled word. And it's your own name! (Now corrected.) See blog below this one in comment section for details!

VISIT WITH BERT

Many of you pray regularly for my big brother, Bert Tippett, who has terminal cancer. Awhile back he wrote two guest blogs for me, sharing the lessons cancer has taught him.

http://kathyhenderson.blogspot.com/2009/09/bert-my-big-brother-shares-his-recent.html

http://kathyhenderson.blogspot.com/2009/09/ten-things-cancer-has-shown-me-by-bert.html

The journey and the lessons continue, not only for Bert, but for all of us as a family.

Doug and I visited him last week in the hospital in Nashville, Tennessee. We NEEDED to see each other!

This week he will finish up 10 more rounds of radiation and go home Thursday. My younger brother, Ricky, will go to Nashville tomorrow with his wife, Gwen, to visit our big brother.

We've always been close as brothers and sister and never moreso than now. Through his pain and weakness, Bert's smile still reflects his joy in the Lord. What a model of facing trials with peace that only comes from a close relationship with Jesus!

I couldn't stop kissing Bert. He couldn't stop caressing my hand. He practically raised me, being 7 years older than I.

No one is loving life abundantly more than Bert right now. He lives fully in "Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done ON EARTH. . ."

Our visit was precious, tears mingled with joy and raucous laughter. Bert's wife, Dianne, their son, Brian and grandson, Mitchell, joined in the noisy reunion!

Then God topped it off with a blessing I'll call my cherry on top. Yes, Jack, that's a cliché and you DID teach me better. But a man I love like a brother walked into that hospital room unexpectedly. Jack Williams is my friend and mentor.

Bert had no choice. God placed us in the same family so he has to claim me. Jack, on the other hand, CHOSE me as his little sister. As he said, "I helped raise her. Bled lots of red ink over her writing!"

I was doubly blessed last week!

"Moses went on and addressed these words to all Israel. . .I can't get about as I used to. . .Be strong. Take courage. . .your God is striding ahead of you. He's right there with you. He won't let you down; he won't leave you." Deut. 31 (The Message)

"Even to your old age I will be the same, and even to your graying years I will bear you! I have done it and I will carry you; and I will bear you and I will deliver you. Isa. 46:4 (The Message)

Bert appreciates your continued prayers for less pain and more strength and mobility. We talked about a keen awareness of God's moving through this process. His peace and encouragement flow freely as He uses the people He placed in our lives, both friends and family, to deliver His love to us all daily!

In His Hands,

Our whole family

WE PAY FOR SERVICE CALLS

"Hello," I greeted as I answered our phone.

"Mom, I have a story for you but first you gotta promise me something."

"That I won't write a blog about it, right?"

"Ri-iiight," he or she confirmed. (That limits your guesses to 6 people who call me that.)

In the background I heard kids' voices chiming, "Blog it, Nana! Blog it!"

This was gonna be good. As you can see we reached a compromise at the corner of embarrassingly funny and anonymity.

"I took our van to the mechanic today because of the loud swishing noise erratically coming from the engine through the dashboard." (All 3 of our kids have vans!) "The mechanic climbed in with me and reached for the direction of the radio. Turning it off, the engine trouble disappeared. So did I, as soon as I could get away."

Laughing, I asked, "Did he charge you?"

"No."

"That's good. Only thing worse than stupidity is paying for it." Seems someone ejected a CD and left the radio on a non-station. Yeah, right. Someone always gets blamed.

I was reminded of two similar family stories. Seems my blog brain works that way. In trilogies. Trying to make him or her feel better, I shared them.

"Years ago, one of my brothers. . ." (that narrows your guess to 2) ". . .heard a strange rattle from their refrigerator. It would come and go. Cleaning the coils, pulling off the back to look at the motor and unplugging it briefly all made no difference to the whimsical, metallic noise. Fearing a motor might burn up and be more costly, he and his wife finally called Sears for a repairman.

He came out and waited with the couple staring at the silent Kenmore. Finally the rattle started up as a motor kicked in. Tilting his skilled ear, the serviceman reached on top of the fridge and removed the glaring culprit. AN EMPTY PIE PLATE!

"I hate to charge you a service fee, sir, but if I make a call, I'm required to by Sears.'"

The voice on my phone laughed with me. Then I continued with another family incident.

Mama and Daddy lived just down the street from us in Raleigh. Her kitchen, like mine, had a built in plexiglass-type cutting board. Hers was a translucent milk-glass with a pebbled texture.

As I popped in one day to visit, Mom sighed in exasperation, "Well I just don't know what else to do!" Smirk on her face, sponge in her hand, she puffed her lips out and blew in my direction.

"What's wrong, Mama?"

"I guess I've ruined my cutting board and don't even know how or when!" she pointed to it with her yellow sponge, reeking of Clorox. We peered over it and the faint circles dotted it in random sizes and colors, some blue, others red and a faint yellow here and there."

I took her sponge and swiped to no avail as she lamented her new kitchen ruined, "I tried Ajax! I tried bleach! I've scrubbed and scrubbed! It doesn't even budge!"

I leaned in closer and noticed the perfect symmetry of the colored drops. "Mom, did you use food coloring here recently?"

"No! Never!"

Slowly I pulled out the drawer beneath her counter cutting board. As I did, I noticed the dots begin to slowly move. At the same moment a Wonder Bread bag popped out of her junk drawer.

"SHAW!" was all she said as she snatched it out of my hand and crammed it into the garbage can.

At least I don't charge. Not for family members anyway!

At your service,

Kathy

FOLLOW UP FROM LAST WEEK:

After last week's embarrassing moments blog, I heard from Dr. Picirilli via his daughter. I won't reveal the name of his unwitting victim, at her request.

June Picirilli McVaySeptember 16, 2010 at 6:57pm Subject: From my Dad I sent the paragraph that you wrote about embarrassing things that had to do with my Dad...and this was his response: Tell Kathy that I remember it well. That wasn’t the only time such a thing happened to me. Billie Sexton (Don Sexton’s wife) did the same thing one night (in Hixon, TN). I did something even worse. . . I thought I was standing next to Clara and patted _____ on her fanny and said, “Let’s go.” You know how red _____’s face can get! Tell Kathy that Clara and I really do intend, some time when we’re in Florence, to get in touch and have lunch with her and Doug. It just seems like the short time we’re there fills up so fast that we never get around to it.

POTTY PRAYERS AND STUFF

"Pray on the hoof," Anne Graham Lotz challenged us. Weekly I sat (with 500 other ladies) under her teaching at Bible Study Fellowship in Raleigh. Her father, Billy Graham, said she's a better Bible expositor than he. She was extraordinary!

My prayer life has evolved several times over the years. My prayer list began to feel like rosary beads. So for a season, instead of a prayer list, I began to journal. Prayer took on various written forms--a section for confession, praise, thanksgiving, request, etc. I even prayed for awhile by thinking in pictures rather than words. As I visualized a face or place, I'd lift the image as a prayer, realizing God knows my very thoughts. Nature's beauty played a role in this.

Today my prayer life may be more like Anne described.

This is not to say that a time devoted strictly to prayer is not necessary. It is. But even that can become ritualistic, a checklist Christianity, rather than meaningful communion with my Father.

Being aware of God's constant companionship with me, I speak to Him as freely as I may phone Doug throughout the day to share whatever is on my mind.

Every now and then I'll phone Doug and when he answers, I'll sing, "I just called to say I love you. . ." or "Have I told you lately that I love you?" Sometimes he'll even start to sing, harmonizing with me. But always I hear him smile. Yes, you can tell when someone is smiling just by their voice.

God likes that too. Sometimes I'll burst into a spontaneous, "Lord, I just love you so much!" No requests. No list. I just called to say I love You. Sometimes I feel His love coming back to me. We duet! It's amazing to think, "He rejoices over me with singing." (Zephania 3:17) Can you imagine what God's voice sounds like singing your name?

Another form of hoof-praying I wandered into is what I call prayer-by-association. Frequently my sleep is interrupted by potty trips. Several years ago I decided to turn that annoyance into a purpose greater than itself!

My nephew, Brian Tippett, was diagnosed with lymphoma. Now while our family prayed for him often throughout the day, I told him, "Brian, I want you to know you are also the sole subject of my potty prayers." I explained and he didn't even flinch at the weirdness. He gets me. (Bless his heart, he's LIKE me!) But many times in the middle of the night, I called his name to the Lord. I'm not sure how Brian felt being associated with my throne, but he was healed!

Brian & Bert

My big brother, Bert, (Brian's dad) was diagnosed with terminal cancer. Soon after that, I told Karen, his daughter, that she would be the recipient of my potty prayers for awhile. God has given her amazing strength to walk this path with her parents. Bert was hospitalized yesterday so he and Dianne will be on my heart in the middle of the night now. Please pray with me for him.

My whole family knows about my potty prayers and have come to treat me as quite normal in that.

Another niece, Christine Tippett Ellis, is a missionary in Honduras. She's the firstborn of my younger brother, Ricky. We began writing blogs about the same time. We've shared a lot through the experience. One day I was surprised at the delivery of a large package. It was filled with amazing varieties of Honduran coffees. She knows my weaknesses! What a perfect love gift of thanks. Every morning as I pour another flavor, I pray for Christine, Robbie and little Claire. Prayer by association.

For Mother's Day my baby, Katy, gave me jewelry. Special jewelry. The lovely necklace, bracelet and earrings were made by a woman in Uganda. Beads for Life is a ministry enabling women who have no way to earn a living (due largely to family deaths by AIDS) to work and care for themselves and their children. With the jewelry came a card picturing 3 women, one of whom made my jewelry set.

Sunday as I wore the jewelry I prayed, "Lord, I don't know which of these women made these, but You do. Bless her livelihood with success, keep her safe from danger and evil. And thank You for Katy and her thoughtfulness."

http://outreachuganda.org/Pittek_Beaders_Project.htm

My prayers have been associated with the hymnal. I sing the verses to God. Sometimes I even go to the piano here at home and worship alone with Him.

More recently I decided not to turn on the radio or CD player in the car. Those few minutes in errands around town have become a sweet sanctuary for God and I time. The car is my association with silence, solitude, a holy of holies without interruption.

Occasionally on facebook I feel the Lord nudge me to offer to pray for folks. Quite a few post requests, some privately. For a couple of weeks, hearts pour out to me and I embrace the holy task to lift them up in prayer.

Sometimes praying the Word back to God or applying what I just read in prayer meshes both the Bible and prayer into more of a conversation. It may be a prayer of praise or confession, sometimes just a request to learn or do what I just read about. The Word becomes living in that process.

When I began this blog I said I would throw open our curtains and let you glimpse into our lives. Today I do just that and offer you little vignettes of my prayer life. It's not a soapbox or even a suggestion or example. It's just me being me.

Maybe what Paul meant when he said, "Pray without ceasing" today has something to do with potties, coffee, jewelry, hymnals, pianos, car-errands, even facebook!

Prayerfully,

Kathy

Today I asked God to bless you with a flood of His love, dear reader. He knows your name, even if I don't.

REMEMBERING 9-11

We showed this powerful, moving video in worship service today at church. What reassurance to know God will be with us, His children, whenever "our 9-11, stairwell" comes!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xtZrVV7kq8

POWERLESS OBSERVATION

Ever hear about powers of observation? Well, apparently Doug and I are afflicted with the opposite. We can miss the most obvious and even trip over it!

One night supperclub met at our house. The ladies were in the kitchen and several men gathered in our foyer, when I heard Pastor Mike call me over, "Hey, Kathy! Come here a minute."

I should have known better. They all wore Cheshire-cat-smiles, as Doug hid behind them.

I entered their lair as Mike snickered, "Notice anything new?"

"You're all wearing the same silly grin," I ventured.

Everyone's smiles expanded as he pointed to my wall of family photos.

There it was, an 11x14 family portrait, hanging where an older shot had been. They all guffawed in unison, pushing Doug out front, pointing at him with, "HE hung it a week ago and wondered when you'd notice."

I hadn't.

So I called the herd of men to my living room and said, "See that chandelier?"

Experts on the obvious, they all nodded. "Well, Doug was out of town and I had it hung. Randall, one of YOUR friends, wired it for me and we measured it at 6'1" so Doug would clear it by an inch when he walked under it." (Randall is an electrician.)

Doug sheepishly backed into the crowd again. He knew this story and where I was headed.

I continued, "Randall, perched on the ladder, had asked me, 'Think Doug'll notice?'

'Sure he will. It's smack dab in the middle of our living room. How could he miss it? He'll have to pass under it to get to the bedroom.'

'I bet he won't even see it,' Randall wagered.

'You're on.'

Several days later Doug came home from his trip, suitcase in hand, kissed me, then headed to the bedroom. I couldn't wait for him to turn and see the chandelier. After all it WAS his anniversary gift to me. He deserved to enjoy his present I chose. He subconsciously ducked as he walked under it but never noticed it.

He deserved a second chance so I called him back, 'Oh, Doug, can you come back here for a minute?' as if I forgot something.

Puzzled, he spun and ducked under it again.

'Never mind,' I waved him on. Third time's the charm. One more pivot and surely I'll win this wager.

He ducked a third time but didn't even know WHY! I still owe Randall."

* * *

Awhile back Doug wore a mustache. One morning he decided to shave it off, tiring of it after a year. We were at church Sunday morning rehearsing when someone noticed, "Doug! You shaved your mustache!"

Startled, I gasped, "You did? You DID! Wow! I guess I didn't look at you very closely this morning, Babe."

"Nor the last three days, Kathy. I shaved it off Thursday."

* * *

Now one might think this is just an aging thing or that one of us is more prone than the other. But as I think back, it began right after the birth of our first child. We were such proud parents taking Kimberly to the nursery her first Sunday. Before service folks gathered around our beautiful daughter oo-ooing and ah-hing.

During church service her birth was announced and we beamed again. After the benediction we put away the music, shut down the sound system and headed to the car, following old habits. Suddenly one of us realized it was just the two of us in the car! "Oh no! We forgot the baby!"

So, best I can figure, our powers of observation were diminished most of our adult lives. I figure we even each other out though. Between us, we have ONE well-equipped brain!

Blessings!

DougandKathy

9/5/10 UPDATE:

This blog has been up several days and Doug just asked, "Did you write about me and the chandelier?"

"Yes, and me not noticing the family photo you updated."

"Well, how do you like it?"

"The one from CHRISTMAS, Doug?"

"No. I put another one up a week ago. It's from last summer and you STILL aren't noticing!"

WE DONE DONE IT AGAIN! Here's the updated photo. . .we'll see it together.