There comes a time in one’s life when you must not only ask yourself hard questions but be willing to answer them. The question, if I am willing to ask it, is do I trust people?  Who do I trust?  And why?

We have come upon a touch of adversity, of late.  It feels disheartening as frustrating &  challenging things keep happening.  I said adversity but not real trials.  We are employed, still have our home, have a healthy family, we can feed our family, we have health insurance and even dental insurance.  In the big things, we are certainly okay.

But still, life is hard right now and my reflex is to scream WHY?!  to the ‘universe’ that keeps on going, no matter what hardship I have had.  Tomorrow quickly becomes today and I can’t ‘get off’ this ride.  This ride is my today.

It’s funny as a mother (or father, but mothering is what I do) you are thrust into situations where you need an advanced seminar in something (today emergency dentistry, Saturday it was sick kittens, last week eldercare … ) and you have to trust the experts that you have already surrounded yourself with.

My son Jacob broke/shattered/chipped his front teeth in the bathtub last night.  I was in a meeting about something that I am very excited about (utilizing artists in our church.  a potential artist’s blog.  a potential wall of photography I might create.  amazing. challenging.  fun.  my blood is pumping!) and after I get out of the building, my cell tells me I missed three calls and I get updated on what happened.

Our dentist is young and lacks history and experience.  And after getting it repaired this morning, I am feeling a bit unsure as to whether the dentist was functioning on the level I want for MY SON! My baby has shattered his two front teeth. If you look closely you can see that his teeth look like ice that has cracked.

I must get a second opinion.   Meanwhile, I can’t order the mouthguard for myself from my dentist, because it turns out even though and dentist and my Primary doc told me it’s TMJ & I clentch my jaw, it’s medical not dental.  I have to get approval through health insurance or I’ll pay $680 our of pocket.

I must get my 2nd cat, Darling, to the Vet to make sure she hasn’t caught whatever Gizmo had and what finally killed her.  And I have to get back over to Emergency Vetenarians for Gizmo’s remains because the boys want to bury her.

The boys need hair repair (they both got BAD haircuts during the summer) and they have school pictures tomorrow.

Emma has to create a timeline from the year of her birth, to now, providing events that occured each year including sports, politics, and three other categories I can’t remember at this moment.  That’s due Thursday, with dinner at my mom’s and soccer practice in between.  The good news there is that she seems to have gotten herself to school on time!

All that shared to say, I don’t have time to find an expert in emergency dentistry and yet, these are his adult teeth and . .  .  I absolutely have to do this.

Does anyone have a great, experienced, wise dentist?  Meanwhile, I’m doing some light reading:

Guideline on Management of Acute Dental Trauma, from the American Academy of Pediatric Dentistry.

the saving of a squirrel and other cool wildlife

Originally uploaded by M e l o d y

So we found a baby squirrel. It was in shock, bleeding out of its nose a little and mostly scared to death! I rocked it like a baby for 15 minutes at least and I was astounded by how calm he got.

The long and short of it, we took it to a wild life lovin’ place, and our baby “Ray” of sunshine will hopefully be fine.

Truthfully this was not how I would have chosen to spend part of my Labor Day, but it was important to my friend my friend and my 11 year old, so we “rescued” the baby squirrel.

I’m more heartless; I would have given it a nice burial close to home. We had to go to two places, before we found the Four Lakes Wildlife Center behind the Dane County Humane Society. It was a cool place. We discovered all sorts of cuties too wild for the Humane Society.

I have to say, it is kind of nice knowing that the little guy will be okay.

I woke this morning with a certain wistfulness.  I am overcome by a feeling that comes from wondering why it is so hard for me to remember and why I focus on the negative memories so often.

Truth, I have very few memories of my childhood and later years.  For whatever reason they are simply gone.  I honestly don’t know why I have lost them, whether I blocked them or they are simply lost because of my feeble brain.

Once in a while I have a memory, that floods in and I should write it down.

Today I am trying to remember good things about my parents.

1. My mother is a great cook, a natural and she used to love to bake or cook for us.  We never had a bad meal in her kitchen.  She had a heart full of welcoming hospitality.
2. I once sat at the kitchen table with my friend Heather, laughing over some shared experience.  My father looked up and said how much I reminded him of his mom in that moment.  This was in high school.
3. My parents always chose their churches for us kids, to ensure that we went to a church with a thriving youth group even if it meant that they didn’t necessarily love the doctrine or musical styles.
4. In high school or earlier, I worked for my dad in his office doing “lick, stick and stuff” type assignments.  One day he came up to me while I was reading a novel, at my desk, and there he gave me the “work ethic” talk that has stuck with me for the rest of my life.  I will never forget it.  If you accomplish your work in less time than expected, ALWAYS look for or ask for more.  That unforgettable talk made me the 110% person that I am today.
5. My mom is a fount of knowledge about nutrition, health, plants, and many other topics.  She’s brilliant, really.
6. My father never met a stranger.  He believed that every conversation could be “divinely inspired” and went through his life meeting the most incredible, influential people (unknown to him until later) and the simple, everyday persons that interested and challenged him with each encounter.  He would strike up a conversation with anyone and show genuine interest, compassion and Christ’s love to each one.  I am hard core shy and truly disinterested in meeting strangers.  He would try to teach me “conversational starters” (From Dale Carnegie) but I must say I wasn’t the best student.
7. My father has no memory of being told he was loved by his parents as he was growing up.  He was almost ritualistic about coming to each one of us at the beginning or end of the day, with a hug and a word, some expression of love (not always the words “I love you” but always the intent).  I carry that tradition on now with my own children.  I hope the words don’t lose their meaning I say them so much.  But I never want them to be able to say “I’m not sure my parents loved me.”

That is all I have for now… seven strong memories to carry with me today.