Day 328 - Playing Chess

So, this picture was taken by my good friend, Dana.  I was in my first year of vet school at UT and all of my crazy cool friends were seniors at ETSU (2 hours away!)  I was sad and lonely without them.  :(  Sometimes, when I was really lucky, they would come and visit me! :) 

This particular weekend, Dana (taking the picture), Erik (wearing the bandana), and Rufus (wearing the pleated pants) came to Knoxville to hang out with me (wearing the sweater vest.) 

We were hanging out at West Towne Mall and somehow started playing chess on the checkerboard floor.  I'm pretty sure they were just refreshing my memory on how the individual pieces moved, but judging by the looks of the 'crowd' we had around us, given enough time, we likely could have launched a full-fledged game. 

Sweet memories.  Great friends. 

Day 327 - Our Back Yard

This picture was taken April of 2009 and this was the last time our back yard looked this nice.

Until today.

8 hours of physical labor, cleaning, raking, scooping, mulching, and leaf-blowing later..... and we have a clean yard again.  Almost. 

Shew.  Time for bed.  And ibuprofen. 

Day 326 - Sam and Chad

Ahh, good times.  These are my buds from vet school, Sam and Chad.  We went to this game with Matt (he and I were dating) and Samantha was pregnant with their first son, Cole.

They just welcomed their second son, Logan, to the family.  I'm thrilled for them and happy that everyone is healthy and well.

Day 325 - A Bull

This is a bull I sedated to examine because he could not swallow and his tongue and all sorts of grass and hay were hanging out of his mouth.  The farmer did not have a chute to restrain him in, so I darted him with the dart gun on a trailer and waited for him to get sleepy.

Here he is sleepy.  His tongue is hanging out very near to his own manure.  I'm sure if he could say so, he would say that he is grumpy.

Today I am grumpy.  I am this palpably irritable thing. 

My skin is super sensitive.  I woke up at 3am with severe leg pain that kept me awake for hours.  I am stressed for no good reason.  Normal noises are physically painful to my ears (like nails on a chalkboard.) 

I've been this way a couple of times during my illness - and I realize that is what is causing this. 

But that doesn't make it any easier.  Especially for my poor hubby.  (Sorry, hon.)

So, I'm going to go and read in bed and hopefully fall asleep and stay asleep with the help of some ibuprofen and benadryl and pray that tomorrow is better. 

And I will also pray that tomorrow I do not write such long run-on sentences. 

Day 324 - Family Photo

Little Baby Aspen is growing up fast - and with 3 big brothers, she'd better!

I got to take pictures of this family for their Christmas Card this year.  It was a challenge (to say the least) to get them all looking at me at the same time, much less smiling and somewhat in focus.  :)  I'm very happy with this one, though.  Yay! 

Day 323 - October Leaves

I took this picture on October 21st of this year.  It was morning, it was golden-light, and my mind compelled my feet to move and go outside.  "Go - go capture the change of the seasons.  Go - go behold the beauty that is just outside your door."  

I listened and got up. 

Mostly because my dear friend had written this post a week earlier. 

I'm copying and pasting it - but you can see her other brilliant writings here. 

Thank You for October leaves, Father.

Friday, October 14, 2011

October

Four months ago, the hillsides tumbled green upon green. Valleys and rises were determined by a narrow spectrum of shadows and brights. More or less, the landscape was monotone, summer lazy, and supple. Confident maple leaves hung in all their twenty-something vigor, acquainted with hearty rain and heated winds, thinking they knew what there was to know.

I remembered being that age, so I didn’t laugh. Instead, I was tender, because October visits us all.

Yesterday, thrown handfuls of yellow leaves hung like stars against a navy green wood. Spots of light clung to branch with newfound brevity, sensing their weakening connection to familiarity. That which has nourished will release. In the glory of dying, in the flame of brilliance, each little golden body realized that it would pass through the womb of falling to the earth.

I beheld contrast upon contrast. Each life manifest its individuality, because this is what happens in the season of death. The green has gone, the true has come. The covering of the corporate is no longer.

Ochre grasses were painted willowy and bowing in their individual lines. There were tufts of silver grey, slices of red, bushes burning like a hearth. White seed pods cast their children upon hope of spring. Shrubs fussed over their holiday decorations, and fifteen stubborn trees held desperately to the last of their lime like thirty-nine-year-old women.

Autumn awakens. Here, depth is defined by variation.

Most of my life, I have walked among a summer’s faith where two-dimensional promises were made by a pleasant Western culture: “Jesus will perfect my marriage. Jesus will make my children wise, and strong, and moral. Jesus will help me obtain financial abundance. Jesus will make me confident, exegetically sound, and able to collect a little flock of admiring disciples. Jesus passes out health in twelve steps and truth in five points. I will walk manicured and full of my own right choices into a ripe old age of comfort.”

Perhaps. Yet often we imply that the Jesus we worship would never allow us a season of uncertainty, or vulnerability, or war. We think he wants us to be fat, full of ourselves, and sure. We know belief tumbling in summergreen strength through valleys and heights, simple and monotone, making promises of happily ever earthly after.

It is a breed of faith easy enough to manage among wealthy people expecting pleasant things. That is why the anomalies are so horrifying: sicknesses, disasters, misunderstandings, prisons of all sorts, Novembers in June. The story shouldn’t go this way, we think. Dyings are such a shock, for the Jesus we have loved is pleasant and easy, and we shop for him until we find him sold our way.

A thousand times I have read the words, but who ever believes them without October skies grown low and grey? You have died. The old has gone. The new has come. The old shell must be sucked of its green juices and tumble down, resigned to the contrast. For there is another world, and it is often winter here when spring there rises.

The veins of fallen leaves read like hymns, yellow-running, red, and holy. They are prophets of a new dimension.

My life is gone.

Behold what is left:

Brilliance.

Day 322 - Stepping Back

My pictures lately have been lacking much 'story.'  I've been a bit busy with a vet student visiting (she's great!)

So, it was time for a more substantial post.  Here I am - likely age 8?  9?  Somewhere in there....

And it has 3 of my favorite things present:  a dog, a baby calf, and me wearing my favorite color - purple.  :) 

I remember this day.  Likely because there was a picture taken to commemorate it.  My dad took me out in the field because a mother cow had wandered off with the rest of the herd and left her calf alone.  Usually, these calves 'stay put' as their mother tells them to do until she comes and calls for them.  This one was likely only a couple of days old and mom was not nearby - though we were on the watch for her.  :)

The dog in the pic was my first dog, Jasper.  He was a really great dog. I think he is posing quite well for this pic.  Heh.

I always wanted to be a vet.  I always loved animals and it was a job that interested me for lots of reasons.  My great-great-grandfather was a veterinarian (even though he did not go to vet school - he was awarded a license to practice based on his experience and knowledge.)  My other great-great-grandfather was an MD - so I get the medical gene honestly.  My dad wanted to be a vet - but didn't like school so much.  I think I partly wanted to be a vet because I liked the profession and partly because I wanted to make my daddy proud of me. 

I have enjoyed this profession immensely.  I have been so blessed to work here in VA with the family of Commonwealth Veterinary Clinic for 9.5 years.  And though I am not leaving, I am stepping back a bit.

I just formally reduced my hours to part-time status. I am going to work 30 hours a week instead of my normal 50-60 hours. 

I have been ill since our wedding 3.5 years ago.  This stubborn tick-borne illness has wreaked havoc on my body and worn me out - literally.  It's time.  It's time to give my body time to heal.  Time to rest.  Time to enjoy other aspects of my life.

I am beyond thankful for having a boss that supports and loves me.  And I am in awe at how God is providing for our clinic during this time.  It's just amazing.

So, I will still be doctor Leslie who gets to play with cows and dogs - but I'll just be doing it a little less often.