Does anyone happen to have access to any of the machines below that they would be willing to give away? A cousin of a good friend of mine was in an accident last December and was paralyzed (almost completely) from the neck down. His insurance company doesn't cover a lot of the expensive equipment he needs. Also, the insurance company isn't covering as much physical therapy as the family originally thought, so he will be returning home sooner than expected into a house that isn't ready for him.
If any of you know of a way the family could get access to this equipment for no charge or for very low cost, you can use the link below to contact the family.
Rotating air bed $6,500
Standing machine $800
Estim machine $850 (this works the muscles in his arms)
Estim bike $15,000
Deltoid aid $4,000
Full-size handicap van
http://www.caringbridge.com/cb/inputSiteName.do?method=search&siteName=mikeready
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Another turning point...
Sometimes negative behavior can be traced to an unrealized and/or unacknowledged emotion. A common such emotion is anger, which can manifest itself in self-destructive behavior if not addressed. Another commonly present yet denied emotion is fear, which I have only moments ago realized is controlling my action or lack of action. I fear the vacuum cleaner.
I have never enjoyed vacuuming, but, until I went to college, I never had to do much of it. Growing up, all of the floors in my home were hardwood, and though vacuuming was occasionally required, a dry mop usually was sufficient. When I moved to college, my roommate and I decided we would get wall to wall carpeting, but still, even wall to wall carpet in a tiny dorm room does not amount to much. Then I moved into Cov. House, and it is there that my loathing of all things vacuum firmly established itself in my psyche. First of all, though the carpets weren't bad, they weren't all that great either, and a well-vacuumed floor did not look that different from a floor that had not been vacuumed. Also, hair would continually get caught in the vacuum and I would have to take a pair of scissors and cut it all out. Third, the belt often would burn leaving the nauseating smell of burnt rubber throughout the entire house. Vacuum cleaners since have been complicated mysteries to me. They clean my floor, but they are fickle, smelly, unpredictable machines that I am sure sometimes spontaneously combust and injure dozens each year.
Knowledge is often the antidote to fear, however, and I am making strides to get to know my Dirt Devil. I changed the bag today. It wasn't that bad. I changed it, but I put the new bag in, and everything's good. Plus, the vacuum cleaner works better now. Yes, hair is still a problem, but I'll try to maintain that. Filters - I can change those too. Maybe, with enough attention, the Dirt Devil will become my friend. If not, that's okay. Now that I've peered inside it, it's not so scary anymore. Good vacuum.
I have never enjoyed vacuuming, but, until I went to college, I never had to do much of it. Growing up, all of the floors in my home were hardwood, and though vacuuming was occasionally required, a dry mop usually was sufficient. When I moved to college, my roommate and I decided we would get wall to wall carpeting, but still, even wall to wall carpet in a tiny dorm room does not amount to much. Then I moved into Cov. House, and it is there that my loathing of all things vacuum firmly established itself in my psyche. First of all, though the carpets weren't bad, they weren't all that great either, and a well-vacuumed floor did not look that different from a floor that had not been vacuumed. Also, hair would continually get caught in the vacuum and I would have to take a pair of scissors and cut it all out. Third, the belt often would burn leaving the nauseating smell of burnt rubber throughout the entire house. Vacuum cleaners since have been complicated mysteries to me. They clean my floor, but they are fickle, smelly, unpredictable machines that I am sure sometimes spontaneously combust and injure dozens each year.
Knowledge is often the antidote to fear, however, and I am making strides to get to know my Dirt Devil. I changed the bag today. It wasn't that bad. I changed it, but I put the new bag in, and everything's good. Plus, the vacuum cleaner works better now. Yes, hair is still a problem, but I'll try to maintain that. Filters - I can change those too. Maybe, with enough attention, the Dirt Devil will become my friend. If not, that's okay. Now that I've peered inside it, it's not so scary anymore. Good vacuum.
Sunday, June 25, 2006
Freshman
I wrote this a couple of weeks ago. I'm just now getting around to posting it.
I have that freshman rock in my stomach. Remember it? Think back to when you first started college. After hauling your Steralite bins full of prom pictures, phone cards, dishes, and socks, your sweaty dad slipped you forty dollars and kissed you goodbye, your mom fought back tears as she gave you one more hug, and your teenage sibling awkwardly gave you a hug because he knew he had to. They then drove the SUV away and you were left, knowing that all the laurels on which you had once rested didn't matter anymore. Of course, on the other hand, nobody knew about the time you tucked your skirt into your pantyhose at Homecoming - or about the time you shanked the field goal needed to win the game, but nobody knew that you were a trusted keeper of secrets, a good sportman, funny, interesting, scared, loveable. Nobody knew you. You had to start all over again.
I have that freshman rock in my stomach. Remember it? Think back to when you first started college. After hauling your Steralite bins full of prom pictures, phone cards, dishes, and socks, your sweaty dad slipped you forty dollars and kissed you goodbye, your mom fought back tears as she gave you one more hug, and your teenage sibling awkwardly gave you a hug because he knew he had to. They then drove the SUV away and you were left, knowing that all the laurels on which you had once rested didn't matter anymore. Of course, on the other hand, nobody knew about the time you tucked your skirt into your pantyhose at Homecoming - or about the time you shanked the field goal needed to win the game, but nobody knew that you were a trusted keeper of secrets, a good sportman, funny, interesting, scared, loveable. Nobody knew you. You had to start all over again.
Today was orientation for the start of my studies at seminary. Nametag on, notebook in hand, purse over shoulder, I walked into the lower-level chapel classroom filled with humming chattering of men and women, most of them in pairs, talking about Greek paradigms, PCA this, wife and job that. Grunge and prep, men and women, newlyweds and couples with children, all mingled together. I didn't know anyone. Even more discomforting, no one knew me.
I hadn't felt that sinking weight feeling in a long time. I thought that this time around, because I am older, more experienced, more mature, I wouldn't experience it. I was wrong.
I tend to imagine that these people won't want to get to know me. I inwardly accuse people of all sorts of hautiness when I feel threatened. I think that because I am single, I am looked down upon. I become convinced that because I am not firmly rooted in Reformed theology, I am thought to be spiritually inferior. I wonder if because I don't have a Bible undergraduate degree, my intellect is questioned. Maybe this mind game of mine is a defense mechanism. Maybe it's Satan playing the role of the accuser.Either way, I should know better. The wife, the mother, the Bible college student, the Calvinist - all of us are just trying to find our footing. Whether single or married, women want other women to talk to. And whether a Bible college student or a state university student, young people want purpose and passion and direction.
I take a deep breath before I walk into rooms full of strangers. I need to fix my will before swimming through the unfamiliar voices. But, before long, they will become familiar. I know before long I will love some of those voices and perhaps even cry when I miss them. For now, however, my will needs to be steadied. This time, my parents aren't dropping me off and leaving me - I'm driving myself. This time, I know the accusing thoughts aren't worth listening to. This time, I'm sure of the rock beneath my feet. I just need to keep that rock beneath me - and not in my stomach.
-
I hadn't felt that sinking weight feeling in a long time. I thought that this time around, because I am older, more experienced, more mature, I wouldn't experience it. I was wrong.
I tend to imagine that these people won't want to get to know me. I inwardly accuse people of all sorts of hautiness when I feel threatened. I think that because I am single, I am looked down upon. I become convinced that because I am not firmly rooted in Reformed theology, I am thought to be spiritually inferior. I wonder if because I don't have a Bible undergraduate degree, my intellect is questioned. Maybe this mind game of mine is a defense mechanism. Maybe it's Satan playing the role of the accuser.Either way, I should know better. The wife, the mother, the Bible college student, the Calvinist - all of us are just trying to find our footing. Whether single or married, women want other women to talk to. And whether a Bible college student or a state university student, young people want purpose and passion and direction.
I take a deep breath before I walk into rooms full of strangers. I need to fix my will before swimming through the unfamiliar voices. But, before long, they will become familiar. I know before long I will love some of those voices and perhaps even cry when I miss them. For now, however, my will needs to be steadied. This time, my parents aren't dropping me off and leaving me - I'm driving myself. This time, I know the accusing thoughts aren't worth listening to. This time, I'm sure of the rock beneath my feet. I just need to keep that rock beneath me - and not in my stomach.
-
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Summer
I love summer. A warm scented breeze blows by, and still I am startled, delighted, so glad that winter is over. I love the laid back pace of summer. My dad and I have stripping and painting my old bedroom for almost a week now. He does good work, and we haven't made any mistakes, but we're still not nearly finished. On day one, we stripped wallpaper at an intense pace, and I was ready to strip until we were done. It got to be 4:00 and Dad said we'd do the rest tomorrow. What? Do the rest tomorrow? But Dad was determined to clean up and enjoy the summer evening. I decided to follow suit. I'm a little anxious, just wanting to get it done, but I'm trying to get in step with him, enjoy the work as we go, and look at this project as something to keep us busy and not as something to get done and out of the way. Kind of like summer.
So in love...
My brother got married earlier this month. I can't imagine a more perfect fit for our family than Linsay.
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