The Brain Transplant - A Spooky but True Story

      I’m not a big supporter of the spooky side of Halloween but I am a fan of free chocolate.  All those Mounds bars that my kids don’t want are happily consumed by this momma.  So in the spirit of free candy and all that is good and chocolate, I share this true and spooky story with you.

The Brain Transplant

 “I found your brain,” the mother said to the father in passing one autumn evening.  She looked down the hall at her husband on the couch next to their seven-year-old son.  Seeing the younger one’s wide-eyed reaction she immediately followed with, “Yeah, Thing 2, every boy has a brain transplant when he turns eight.  We didn’t tell you because we didn’t want you to be nervous.”

“What?!?!?!” the nearly eight-year-old boy replied with fearful disbelief.

“Yeah,” the father chimed in, “the brain your mom found was mine.  See, here it is.” He holds it up for Thing 2 to see.  “But don’t worry, you really don’t remember it. That’s why I can’t remember much from my childhood before I was eight.”

“Nuh uh! You guys are just teasing me!.....Right?! That’s not your brain,” Thing 2 says with a lot more question than conviction. 

At this point the mom is seeing $10k lost if only she had a secret video of this whole conversation to capture and send off to AFV.  Her son’s wide eyes are priceless and she can barely hold back her grin.

Later that evening the nine-year-old male child with a mostly unhidden smile tells his younger brother, “It’s true.  I had my brain transplant last year.  And when you get your new brain you know all your math facts. It’s kind of nice.“

“Nuhh Uhhh!” shouts Thing 2, still not certain but pretty sure his family is trying to freak him out.

She isn’t sure what made her do it. It wasn't planned, it just came rolling off her tongue. Somewhere along the way of raising three male offspring she exchanged her clear conscience for a good laugh. Perhaps it was all the years of potty mishaps, tantrums, and endless sibling squabbles. With three sons you learn to laugh before you dissolve into tears.  Like when one small boy manages to splatter vomit on five surfaces in the bathroom, just inches from the toilet. 

Whatever it was that made her say it, the mom knew she needed to put this seven-year-old’s brain at ease.  After a few hours feeling less guilty and more amused than she should she decides to fess up to the truth.

“Thing 2, you are right, that isn’t your Daddy’s brain.  It is coral.”  Just as the relief is registering fully in his big brown eyes she adds with a twisted grin, “They don’t really let you keep your brain after the transplant.”

“Nuhh uhhh!!!! It’s just coral!  They. Don’t. Give. Boys. A. Brain. Transplant!!!!!”

She just smiles and walks away…some days I really think they should!

Record of Faithfulness: Remembering Jo

Since Heather’s sudden death four years ago I’ve wondered if it would be easier to accept if I had had a chance to say goodbye.  Or is a freak accident a mercy?  No suffering, no lingering, no knowing all you are about to lose?  My husband put it well when he said Heather’s death was “traumatic.”  Jo’s was just plain painful.  Having had grief both ways now I’m not sure one is easier than the other, just different.

________

Sept. 10, 20013

                Jo died yesterday.  It was hard to see her so frail and in pain.  Cheeks sunken, breath broken, body swollen and suffering.  This was not the vibrant woman whose personality instantly filled a room.  This was sin’s consequence staring back at me – not her sin, but everyone’s.  Death was coming to steal, plunder and destroy all the goodness God had breathed into Jo – all the life.

 My heart agrees with  these words, “We were never meant to experience (death) because it was not part of the wise Creator’s original plan.  Since we have forever wired in our hearts, death is an inconceivable, dark reality.” (Forever, Paul David Tripp, p.44).  The dark reality is all the ordinary days and special celebrations where she will be dearly missed.

                My heart breaks over the separation, no matter how temporary.  I know Your heart breaks too. Through loss I better understand the emotion behind Your Words in the Garden, “What have you done?” (Gen.3:13). There is no accusation in those words, only tears. 

But You had a plan in mind to rescue us. (Rom. 6:23). Instead of judgment You hold out Your nailed scarred hand and welcome us into Your embrace.  No more shifting the blame with Adam or hiding with Eve. No more covering our shame.  Just Love.  Just forgiveness.  Just cleansing and Life, bought at the highest price.  Life celebrated with each day we live by faith here on earth and in heaven forever.

Jo knew this faith.  She lived for this Love.  She didn’t do it perfectly, no one does. . But when it counted the most, in the midst of cancer, she did not waver in her faith. One of my treasured memories with Jo is hearing her teach on thanksgiving while battling her illness. She never stopped asking for more time, and more importantly, when she didn’t get what she wanted she did not turn away from You.   

Jo brought glory to You, the One who gives life, the One Who is Life. The One Who is celebrating with her right now a life well lived in service to You, and all there is to come… forever. Well done, my good and faithful friend.

___________

Yesterday I found this note from Jo along with a journal she gave me shortly after Heather died.

“This is a journey we didn’t ask for, and don’t even really want to be on – yet here we are.  Should God move – when God moves – in a special way, a record will tell of His faithfulness. All my love, Jo”

This is the beginning of my record of your faithfulness my friend, words cannot describe the present sorrow nor the hope I hold onto at our future reunion.

This is the way We Celebrate 13 Years of Marriage

 When we bought our house this spring there was a tall fence blocking the view of the front (and all the dirt and weeds). You can sort of see the fence to the right in this pic. Before we even moved in hubby ripped off the fence but two tall posts remained. 

For our anniversary I requested we tackle this project in lieu of the diamond  necklace I'm sure my  husband had picked out for me.  :)

 As with any joint project in marriage, it started out with negotiations.

Me: What would you think of re-landscaping the front this weekend?

Hubby: What did you have in mind?

Me: (thinking quickly... as an ENFP I have a feeling of what I want, not a detailed step-by-step list in mind)   Ummm, I liked the idea of cutting back the posts and putting up a split-rail fence.

Hubby: What else?

Me: We could put in a couple of rows of plants and flowers in front of the fence...(if it doesn't snow first). 

Hubby: I'd like to have a specific plan before we start. 

After 13 years of marriage this response is not surprising.  He is the opposite of my personality, an ISTJ who likes to have a plan, not a feeling to guide him.  Lucky him, he married me to add all the go-with-your-gut instinct he lacks.  Lucky me, I married him, to actually get the job done right the first time, within budget and efficiently.

Me: Okay, I'll call our friend who is a master gardener and see if she has any suggestions.

Saturday morning rolls around and we finalize our plans with a bit of tension and more negotiating.  After soccer we agree to at least get the fence done.  If there is time we will go to phase 2: mulch. How is it that those Home Depot and Lowes commercials make this look so much easier, more exciting and less stressful on a marriage???

 

While hubby patiently drills away at the fence posts, the garden expert comes over and consults with me about plants.  Seeing as there really is no "we" in the fence project beyond my idea to do it, I work on painting the Adirondack chairs.  (I'll digress here to tell you that my sweet, sweet husband knows my sentimental side.  These chairs were a gift from my dear friend Heather and her husband when we bought our first house a decade-ish ago.  They sorely needed refinishing.  When we moved here the chairs came in pieces with just a white base coat on them.  Hubby surprised me by re-assembling them for a couple weeks ago.)

Sunday arrives, our 13th anniversary.  After church and the Packers (who won BTW), we move onto phase 2.  Hubby digs out the clogged drain pipe in front while I make my first trip to Lowes.  I return with 14 bags of mulch and various drain parts that the Lowes employee sort of knew I might need but didn't seem that much more sure than I was.  

As we are spreading the mulch I think about those chairs and where we are going to put them.  The potential flower bed that will look soooo pretty (dreamer side of an ENFP) until I never get around to weeding it (reality side of me) is actually a nice flat place for two comfortable bright red chairs.  The best part is chairs won't need weeding and will add color all year long.  

I tentatively broach the idea of a change of plans.

Me: What would you think of putting mulch in front of the fence instead of plants?  And our chairs and a table out there?

Hubby: I think that it could work.  Pavers would look really nice.  (He considers the extra cost for a few minutes and labor involved.  Suddenly my unplanned feeling merges with his logical budgeting expertise.) I think the wood chips are a great idea!

Me: Great!  I head back to Lowes for round two. 

I love projects that make a big difference but take very little time.  My attention span is pretty limited. Doing mulch means no waiting until spring to plant!  And we can always add some plants later anyways. 

 And that is how two very different people with opposite approaches to just about everything re-landscape together.

 

Part of the reason I wanted to do this for our anniversary is bc I wanted a project we could do together.  Sure the selfish side of me would like to just have my way, starting off the day wandering through the nursery and grabbing whatever plant looks pretty.  And I'm sure my husband would have rather finished up a few other things last weekend than start a new one with me. But that is the wonderful thing about marriage.  Two people forced to lay down their preferences, seeking to honor and love the other...and occasionally by God's grace, getting it right. In this case, a much improved landscape-nice.

Oh, and we did get cleaned up and have a very nice date out that night!  Patio seating, fire place and a mountain view.  LOVE!

Now I think I'm going to go finish that other chair...stop and by and have a sit with us when you are nearby!

This is the Way to Get A Woman

Me to Thing 1(9 yrs old): When you recite your poem you have to look your teacher in the eyes or you will get marked down.

Thing 1: But I don't like making eye contact.

Me: Well, it is an important skill you have to learn in life.

(As often happens, Thing 2 interjects some interesting comment into the conversation)

Thing 2 (7yrs): Yeah, if you want to get an attractive woman someday you have to make eye contact. 

Well, there you go. 

Based on the awkward stance and distance between T2 and the neighbor girl on the first day of school  I don't think I need to worry about him bringing home an attractive woman quite yet.

But I look forward to meeting her when that day comes. 

This is the way...

This is the way the four year old likes to talk on the phone:

This is the way the four year old gets me to put in one more video so I can finish my conversation with Jesus:

This is the way he exercises while I do my work out video:

This is how the seven year old brother wakes up after the four year old has watched two shows and jumped off the fireplace 500 times:

This is how the four year old "helps" make my bed:

This is the way the seven year old likes to view most of life, perched up in a tree. Sometimes way way higher than this momma on the ground would prefer. But she keeps her mouth shut...most of the time. 

This is how the nine year old looks in his first pair of glasses:

This my favorite way to spend my Sat mornings, watching my nine year old have fun playing soccer: 

And this is where I store these memories for the day when no little boys do flips on my legs during my Quiet time, crawl under me while I do an Updog, make a fort out of my bed pillows, slowly wake up under my favorite blanket, celebrate over another goal scored, or giggle while wiggling fingers under my bathroom door.