On Wednesday I made a cake, celebrating that my bone marrow is fine. It's like a birthday to know I won't be having a bone marrow transplant any time soon. The day before Christmas Eve I found out that I have the genetic mutation that runs in my family and predisposes people to myelodysplastic sydrome and acute myeloid leukemia (one or the other or both have affected 7 of my family members so far). On Janaury 17th, I had a bone marrow biopsy to see if there was any sign of either. Any significant trouble with my bone marrow would have indicated the need for a bone marrow transplant. On January 20th, I found out that my bone marrow is healthy (with the small caveat that some of my blood tests - not bone marrow - show some impaired immune functioning).
So, I made a celebration cake - the gluten free, sugar free kind with whipped cream on the top!
And when I broke the eggs over the bowl, into the flour and salt and butter, there was an egg with a double yolk. Follow the link to fall down the rabbit hole of the double yolks...
Showing posts with label double yolks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label double yolks. Show all posts
Saturday, January 25, 2014
Sabbath Joy Dare
January Joy Dare Prompts (think of 3 gifts for each day - use prompts if you want!):
8. Dusky light, Surprising Reflection, Lovely Shadow
9. A Gift Held, Passed By, Sat With
10. A Gift Sour, Sweet, Just Right
11. 3 Yellow Gifts of Fresh Mercy
12. Something Above, Below, Beside
13. 3 Things About Yourself you are grateful for
14. 3 Startling Graces of God
My list (picking up from the last list):
422. Shabbat Candles in the evening as the sun is going down
423. Finding a scripture that says we are the CANDLES of God. Mmmm... Going to have to reflect more on that one.
424. I always love the shadow of the dried flowers on the wall.
425. Holding Mango's hand through the hospital
426. The beautiful glass blown artwork at Mayo - just like the piece at MIA
427. Jo-Jo snuggling in my lap
428. TWO bags of grapefruit on the counter when you're trying to keep everyone from getting sick in the MN winter!
429. Chocolate wine for Shabbat
430. Crockpot chili simmering all day
431. Ha! Yellow! Remembering how Mane used to call herself "Yellow" when she was little.
432. Again, a memory: Of the yellow bridesmaid dress I wore for a delightful wedding! Mercy. What a mercy that marriage has been.
433. Yellow. The color of the walls in my kitchen, which I know I've mentioned in this list before...but how cozy on a winter morning!
434. The patterned ceiling of my kitchen. I don't know anyone else with such sweet old ceiling panels.
435. Hardwood floors. Nothing says peace, and earth, and grounded like the real wood floors of an old house.
436. The window beside me that looks out on my messy porch...with all the funny little do-dads, finger puppets, trinkets on the sill.
437. I'm pretty at home in my own mind. I love to think, reflect, puzzle through, sort...
438. I'm grateful for small feet that carry me everywhere and still do the job, even though they're small!
439. Freckles. Because Mango likes them.
440. That peace can still be found in such a torn up world.
441. Twins! That God made people to sometimes have twins! That the egg I broke for the celebration cake the other day had a double yolk!
442. That snowflakes are beautiful, albeit cold.
8. Dusky light, Surprising Reflection, Lovely Shadow
9. A Gift Held, Passed By, Sat With
10. A Gift Sour, Sweet, Just Right
11. 3 Yellow Gifts of Fresh Mercy
12. Something Above, Below, Beside
13. 3 Things About Yourself you are grateful for
14. 3 Startling Graces of God
My list (picking up from the last list):
422. Shabbat Candles in the evening as the sun is going down
423. Finding a scripture that says we are the CANDLES of God. Mmmm... Going to have to reflect more on that one.
424. I always love the shadow of the dried flowers on the wall.
425. Holding Mango's hand through the hospital
426. The beautiful glass blown artwork at Mayo - just like the piece at MIA
427. Jo-Jo snuggling in my lap
428. TWO bags of grapefruit on the counter when you're trying to keep everyone from getting sick in the MN winter!
429. Chocolate wine for Shabbat
430. Crockpot chili simmering all day
431. Ha! Yellow! Remembering how Mane used to call herself "Yellow" when she was little.
432. Again, a memory: Of the yellow bridesmaid dress I wore for a delightful wedding! Mercy. What a mercy that marriage has been.
433. Yellow. The color of the walls in my kitchen, which I know I've mentioned in this list before...but how cozy on a winter morning!
434. The patterned ceiling of my kitchen. I don't know anyone else with such sweet old ceiling panels.
435. Hardwood floors. Nothing says peace, and earth, and grounded like the real wood floors of an old house.
436. The window beside me that looks out on my messy porch...with all the funny little do-dads, finger puppets, trinkets on the sill.
437. I'm pretty at home in my own mind. I love to think, reflect, puzzle through, sort...
438. I'm grateful for small feet that carry me everywhere and still do the job, even though they're small!
439. Freckles. Because Mango likes them.
440. That peace can still be found in such a torn up world.
441. Twins! That God made people to sometimes have twins! That the egg I broke for the celebration cake the other day had a double yolk!
442. That snowflakes are beautiful, albeit cold.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Heavy Metal
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Yes, Creativity Boot Camp is going at its own pace in my house. And I don't know when I'll finish. That's not the point. At least, that's what they tell me over there. So, bear with me. While everyone else is finished. I am on Day Four.
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When I was about five months pregnant, Mango and I went to the Whistle Stop Bed and Breakfast in New York Mills, MN. I brought along my prenatal yoga DVD and practiced every day in our very own train car while Mango tried to convince me that pregnancy looked good on me. He even took my picture while I was up to me ears in bubble bath. (Yes, the train car had a whirlpool tub.)
We came home with a heavy chunk of metal as a souvenir: a railroad spike painted gold, the signature gift of the Whistle Stop B&B. It was such a strange gift, heavy and spray-painted. We still have it, and I've contemplated from time to time what it means (being a person who contemplates the meaning of the unexpected and unusual in life - see my posts about double-yolked eggs...oh, and there were several more double yolked eggs one morning last week - we're still wondering about the meaning of this...).
The "original" golden spike was driven by Leland Stanford at the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869, a commemoration of the union of the two major railroads in the U.S. at the time. I like that - a symbolic spike tying the two railroads together...railroads that go a lot of different directions but are ultimately united and work together for the same purposes and goals. And that's what Mango and I are - two people working on various separate things in life but ultimately united together in purpose, in goals, in meaning. And there we were about to have our first baby, half of my DNA bound to half of his DNA to create something completely new and different, a golden spike, if you will, tying us together, not just in purpose and spirit but in the real physical world. It isn't that we weren't bound together before, but a baby is a tangible, physical bond...not evidence of our bond, but an actual real life bond - part of me and part of him.
I just have to sit with that for a while.
Then I think of all the things that railroads mean. My grandfather worked for Burlington Northern for his entire work career. Perhaps that's why I find some fascination with railroads, though he never spoke with me about his work. Or, perhaps, it's because I grew up with the movie Stand By Me, and there was something so captivating about following a railroad track. Railroad tracks are on a mission to somewhere and they slice through so much of life along the way. Like my life. And Mango's life. And our children. Yet the whole thing is tied together by these spikes, grounded, stable, connected to the solid terra firma and to every other track.
And it was on the old railroad bridge over Lake Calhoun where Mango first told me that I was beautiful. This was before we were a couple. And I didn't know what to say. There I was on those old tracks, not even knowing which direction my life was going or what to say about it. I like the way that old railroad tracks sit in the ground and the grass and flowers grow up around them, and they seem almost (but not quite) like part of the natural world all over again. They remind me of the past, of the people who came before me and the things that make me who I am today. And I can still follow those old tracks to somewhere...and sometimes they meet up with some new tracks, like the Hiawatha Line in Minneapolis, like the way layers of my life meet up and are sort of the same but altogether different...all tied together by those heavy chunks of metal. Heavy metal.
The "original" golden spike was driven by Leland Stanford at the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869, a commemoration of the union of the two major railroads in the U.S. at the time. I like that - a symbolic spike tying the two railroads together...railroads that go a lot of different directions but are ultimately united and work together for the same purposes and goals. And that's what Mango and I are - two people working on various separate things in life but ultimately united together in purpose, in goals, in meaning. And there we were about to have our first baby, half of my DNA bound to half of his DNA to create something completely new and different, a golden spike, if you will, tying us together, not just in purpose and spirit but in the real physical world. It isn't that we weren't bound together before, but a baby is a tangible, physical bond...not evidence of our bond, but an actual real life bond - part of me and part of him.
I just have to sit with that for a while.
Then I think of all the things that railroads mean. My grandfather worked for Burlington Northern for his entire work career. Perhaps that's why I find some fascination with railroads, though he never spoke with me about his work. Or, perhaps, it's because I grew up with the movie Stand By Me, and there was something so captivating about following a railroad track. Railroad tracks are on a mission to somewhere and they slice through so much of life along the way. Like my life. And Mango's life. And our children. Yet the whole thing is tied together by these spikes, grounded, stable, connected to the solid terra firma and to every other track.
And it was on the old railroad bridge over Lake Calhoun where Mango first told me that I was beautiful. This was before we were a couple. And I didn't know what to say. There I was on those old tracks, not even knowing which direction my life was going or what to say about it. I like the way that old railroad tracks sit in the ground and the grass and flowers grow up around them, and they seem almost (but not quite) like part of the natural world all over again. They remind me of the past, of the people who came before me and the things that make me who I am today. And I can still follow those old tracks to somewhere...and sometimes they meet up with some new tracks, like the Hiawatha Line in Minneapolis, like the way layers of my life meet up and are sort of the same but altogether different...all tied together by those heavy chunks of metal. Heavy metal.
Monday, December 28, 2009
The Saga of the Double Yolks
Monday, February 09, 2009
French Toast
On the night before we left for Mexico we made French Toast for dinner, one of Vespera's favorite meals. She requested it, and it sounded so nourishing and sweet that we all agreed.
When I broke open the eggs, the last 3 had double yolks. I smiled quietly to myself. In July of 2006, a few months after she was placed with us, I made breakfast one morning and every single egg I broke open had a double yolk. (I posted about it here: New Meaning.) I don't know that it has any special meaning. And, yet, it brought me comfort on the night before our departure.
In retrospect, I see how every bit of our journey was doubled blessed, and we were cared for abundantly...double yolks, double nourishing for our minds, our spirits, our souls. The eggs were a reminder.
When I broke open the eggs, the last 3 had double yolks. I smiled quietly to myself. In July of 2006, a few months after she was placed with us, I made breakfast one morning and every single egg I broke open had a double yolk. (I posted about it here: New Meaning.) I don't know that it has any special meaning. And, yet, it brought me comfort on the night before our departure.
In retrospect, I see how every bit of our journey was doubled blessed, and we were cared for abundantly...double yolks, double nourishing for our minds, our spirits, our souls. The eggs were a reminder.
Monday, July 24, 2006
New Meaning
Everything takes on this crazy sense of meaning since Vespera joined the family. I just gave her and Mane their vitamins. Silly girls. They were lying in bed together. Vespera was reading history homework. Mane was pretending to want to know all about it. I make sure they both get their vitamins. It's weird. I took Vespera to the chiropractor last week, which is totally normal for our family, but she's never been to a chiro before. Her Mexican birth family is all about herbs and natural healing. So, it isn't too much of a stretch for Vespera to learn about the things we "do" like chiropractic and organic foods, natural cleaners and recycling. She showed me last night how her mother pulls her hair in a certain way on her head & makes places on her head "pop" in order to get rid of headaches. I almost fainted when she did it to her head & I heard this loud pop.
And speaking of all the stuff she was telling me last night... She came in my room to say goodnight at about 9:30, and she talked and talked and talked at the edge of our bed until 11:30. Usually we laugh about how Mane can't stop talking. Last night Vespera was like some kind of teenager on the phone, except she was in my room talking to me. She was talking about the half-moons on our fingernails, whether men have hormonal changes when babies are born or not, and what she thinks about black and white magic. We talked (Vespera, Dh & I) about angels and demons and how not all supernatural powers are good...maybe not even those of supposedly "white witches." We talked about how we go directly to God when we have troubles and we pray over our home to be protected from anything evil. We talked about how evil spirits cannot inhabit the same body where God is present. What an unusual turn of conversation. She is hungry for knowledge of God. We have begun reading the Bible after dinner most nights, before anybody gets started on homework or anything. Vespera has even done some of the reading. We've talked a lot of theology in a very short time.
I think God sent her to us BOTH because she is hungry to know more about God AND because we needed something in our lives like her to get us into a faithful routine of paying attention to God as a family.
Last week she cried and cried Thursday night & told me she's not sure she'll ever get used to this. I told her that I think she will but it will be a little like when somebody dies. You become able to live without that person but you still miss them sometimes. You even cry and get really sad sometimes. It gets easier, though, not so heavy. She didn't want to go visit her birth family last weekend because it's hard to leave them again when she comes back here. I told her that she needed to go see them. They can give her so many things that we cannot, and she does not need to tough it out and refuse to see them just because she's trying to get used to being here. I told her that I don't really think that not going homw would make it any easier anyway. She would still miss them.
This morning I made eggs for breakfast. I broke open 6 eggs. Every single one of them had 2 yolks. I got chills every time I broke open another one. I wonder what it means... of course, I suppose it could mean nothing at all, but I find that highly unlikely.
And speaking of all the stuff she was telling me last night... She came in my room to say goodnight at about 9:30, and she talked and talked and talked at the edge of our bed until 11:30. Usually we laugh about how Mane can't stop talking. Last night Vespera was like some kind of teenager on the phone, except she was in my room talking to me. She was talking about the half-moons on our fingernails, whether men have hormonal changes when babies are born or not, and what she thinks about black and white magic. We talked (Vespera, Dh & I) about angels and demons and how not all supernatural powers are good...maybe not even those of supposedly "white witches." We talked about how we go directly to God when we have troubles and we pray over our home to be protected from anything evil. We talked about how evil spirits cannot inhabit the same body where God is present. What an unusual turn of conversation. She is hungry for knowledge of God. We have begun reading the Bible after dinner most nights, before anybody gets started on homework or anything. Vespera has even done some of the reading. We've talked a lot of theology in a very short time.
I think God sent her to us BOTH because she is hungry to know more about God AND because we needed something in our lives like her to get us into a faithful routine of paying attention to God as a family.
Last week she cried and cried Thursday night & told me she's not sure she'll ever get used to this. I told her that I think she will but it will be a little like when somebody dies. You become able to live without that person but you still miss them sometimes. You even cry and get really sad sometimes. It gets easier, though, not so heavy. She didn't want to go visit her birth family last weekend because it's hard to leave them again when she comes back here. I told her that she needed to go see them. They can give her so many things that we cannot, and she does not need to tough it out and refuse to see them just because she's trying to get used to being here. I told her that I don't really think that not going homw would make it any easier anyway. She would still miss them.
This morning I made eggs for breakfast. I broke open 6 eggs. Every single one of them had 2 yolks. I got chills every time I broke open another one. I wonder what it means... of course, I suppose it could mean nothing at all, but I find that highly unlikely.
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