Shoes

"Cinderella is proof that a single pair of shoes can change your life." I'm not sure who said that but I like it.

I've been known to be a bit of a shoe-hound. I have several pair. I currently only have 21 pair. When I married, my husband told me I needed to get rid of some shoes. I boldly went through my 43 pair at the time and very reluctantly tossed out 13 pair. I was, of course, heart broken and within a week had purchased 2 new pair to fill in the empty spaces in my closet.

I admit, I can go overboard. I've been known to purchase a pair of shoes that will simply go with only 1 outfit. What's a girl to do? And what girl can pass up a buy 1, get 1 half off sale? I'm trying to be a bit more conservative when I shoe shop, after all we're in a recession. To prove my point, I just purchased a super cute heel on sale for $10.99, marked down over 50% off. Can you believe it? When I showed my husband he stated, "Don't you already have those?" I said, "Honey! Those are black leather. These are brown suede. Totally different shoes." He simply rolled his eyes and sighed as he knew he was defeated in any argument he may have wanted to incur.

Shoes are like comfort food. They give pure satisfaction and unconditional love. The bonus is there is no caloric intake. This makes them even more coveted. BoGo anyone?

Firefighter's Wife

I am a firefighter's wife. A volunteer firefighter's wife, I may add. There is a difference. All firefighter's wives carry the burden of worry as their husbands respond to the call of duty, but a volunteer firefighter's wife hears every page that is called out. We carry an extra burden called knowledge. We know if a grass fire is burning out of control and families need to evacuate. We know if there is a serious car accident with possible fatalities. We know if someone's loved one is lost in the woods when the temperature is subzero. Not only do we worry of the potential dangers our husbands face, we also worry about the families our husbands are serving.

There is a special camaraderie when you are a firefighter's wife. There is an unspoken word that's shared, for each of us knows the others fears. There is a pride we carry deep in our hearts, but we dare not boast. We are fervent prayer warriors, as prayers are lifted at every page, "Keep him safe, oh Lord, and bring him home to me."

I used to resent being a firefighter's wife. I couldn't understand why my husband could devote so much of himself to a job. I told myself countless times that he loved the job more than me. I know now that isn't the truth. He doesn't do the job because he loves me less, he does the job because I love him. Loving him gives him the strength to do the job. Firefighting is his passion and it's who he is. I couldn't ask him to turn away from himself.

As I write these thoughts, the pager goes off. Grass fire in Mayhew township, section 18. "Keep him safe, oh Lord, and bring him home to me."

Hospital Corners

As I sat watching my sister fold a hospital corner on the bed she was making, I was struck by how much we take for granted in this life.

Two years ago this March 8th my sister had a near fatal car accident. She was T-boned on the passenger side of her car by a truck traveling 65 mph. Volunteer firefighters had to use the jaws of life to free her from the wreckage. Paramedics rushed to keep her alive as they took her by ambulance to the Mayo Clinic. She underwent emergency surgery to check for internal injuries and she suffered from two collapsed lungs and swelling of her brain. The following seventy-two hours were critical.

The three hour drive to Rochester, MN was unnerving. We drove past the accident sight. Thoughts of death and unspoken feelings went through my mind. But none of that compared to what I thought or felt when I walked into ICU and saw her lying in bed. I've never seen anyone look so small. She was tiny. Her hands were cold. Her only movement was from the ventilator as it filled her lungs causing her chest cavity to expand. I wondered how she would ever recover.

She's still recovering today. Her balance is still off, but she no longer has to walk with a cane. She's lost her ability to multi-task. Her sense of humor is getting stronger too. She lost her short term memory so it takes awhile to make a memory. Her stubbornness however, was never lost.

My parents moved to an apartment this past weekend. Because of my sister's balance, she was unable to help except when it came to making the beds. She boldly told everyone to step out of the room. I offered to help but she turned me down. "I can do this," she said. I stood in the doorway and watched. I could see her eyes knit together as she meticulously lifted the corner of the sheet to fold a hospital corner. I saw a glimpse of pride flash across her face as she stepped back to see how she did. I turned away with tears in my eyes praising God for hospital corners.