All,
Sick guy here.
I live!!! Not much to brag about, but today i will be able to get out of bed. That is significantly more than i could do yesterday. Yesterday was simply miserable. The two times i got out out of bed (1:20am & 4:00am) i almost passed out. Just too sick to function on any level.
The truth is I wanted to call Greg Spry to come get me! For those of you who don't know Greg, he owns and runs the most professional funeral home I have ever worked with. He is keeping up with my blog to see if i take a turn for the worse. He is actually looking for business.
Greg, remember the day you and I both showed up at Jimmy Smith's at the same time? Everybody was in a state of panic! The Pastor and the funeral director showing up at the same time is never good!
Anyway, today has started much better. Yesterday i was too sick to eat. Today i have have enjoyed toast and powdered eggs.
The plan is to discharge me tomorrow unless something like yesterday happens. I can't wait to sleep in my own bed.
Our primary concern is the bladder. As things are right now, if my bladder doesn't improve by tomorrow, they will send me home with the Foley. This is going to make for some very awkward stops on the road.
But i am alive, my systems are up and running, and Denise is by my side. Therefore, what have i to complain about?
And Terry, yes, I remember the rock. And i still laugh about it! Your turn is coming.
Thanks for all the many prayers.
Love and Blessings,
PA
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10 comments:
Praying for a "good" day, bladder awakening, no nausea, all systems go! I know it will be wonderful for you and Denise to be home in your own bed, but don't rush it. We want you healthy and full of joy - back where you belong.
Have a blessed day, Millie
I'm just now catching up with your blog. It has been a rough few days taking care of my sister.
Several years ago I had a difficult surgery, and I had to come home with my pocketbook. I had a patient onetime call it her new pocketbook because she carried it around like one.
That is probabley not the fashion item you would like to have, so we will pray the old bladder gets to working at full force today.
We never cease to pray for you guys, and thank our Father for you.
we are looking forward for your trip home also.
Lewis and Teresa
We read, we pray, we agonize, and we feel the irresistable urge to go pee-pee in the night just to bring relief to you! The kids and I are still praying specifically for fluid flow. We love you guys so much.
laura
Aaron and Denise,
We give Glory to God for your progress thus far and pray for a healing before you leave there that will "Mystify" the doctors.
"But for you who revere My name the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in it's wings"
God bless you and we look forward to hearing about God's miracles in your llfe.
God Bless,
Scott and Judy
Continuing to pray....you know, you are one of my favorite people!
I hope you continue the blog when you go home. We all want to keep up with how you are doing!
Hugs~
Angie Johnson
Thanks for the update! Continuing to Pray!
Phil. 4:19
Jennifer Jones
P.S. Ditto what Angie Johnson said!
The Tuesday mornning bunch prayed hard for you this morning. If that does not work, nothing will.
Love both of you
Bob
Pastor,
Glad you're feeling better. Here is my second of my only two jokes:
Why do gorillas have such big nostrils?
.
.
.
.
Because they have such big fingers!
Prayers continue,
Canyon
I know this is long, but felt it worth sharing.
THE BIRTH OF THE SONG 'PRECIOUS LORD'
Back in 1932, I was 32 years old and a fairly new husband. My wife, Nettie and I were living in a little apartment on Chicago's south side. One hot August afternoon I had to go to St. Louis where I was to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting. I didn't want to go. Nettie was in the last month of pregna ncy with our first child. But a lot of people were expecting me in St. Louis. I kissed Nettie good-bye, clattered downstairs to our Model A and, in a fresh Lake Michigan breeze, chugged out of Chicago on Route 66. However, outside the city, I discovered that in my anxiety at leaving, I had forgotten my music case. I wheeled around and headed back. I found Nettie sleeping peacefully. I hesitated by her bed; something was strongly telling me to stay. But eager to get on my way, and not wanting to disturb Nettie, I shrugged off the feeling and quietly slipped out of the room with my music. The next night, in the steaming St. Louis heat, the crowd called on me to sing again and again. When I finally sat down, a messenger boy ran up with a Western Union telegram. I ripped open the envelope. Pasted on the yellow sheet were the words: YOUR WIFE JUST DIED. People were happily singing and clapping around me, but I could hardly kee p from crying out. I
rushed to a phone and called home. All I could hear on the other end was 'Nettie is dead. Nettie is dead.' When I got back, I learned that Nettie had given birth to a boy. I swung between grief and joy. Yet that same night, the baby died. I buried Nettie and our little boy together, in the same casket. Then I fell apart. For days I closeted myself. I felt that God had done me an injustice. I didn't want to serve Him anymore or write gospel songs. I just wanted to go back to that jazz world I once knew so well. But then, as I hunched alone in that dark apartment those first sad days, I thought back to the afternoon I went to St. Louis. Something kept telling me to stay with Nettie. Was that something God? Oh, if I had paid more attention to Him that day, I would have stayed and been with Nettie when she died. From that moment on I vowed to listen more closely to Him. But still I was lost in grief. Everyone was kind to me, especially one friend. The following Saturday evening he took me up to Malone's Poro College, a neighborhood music school. It was quiet; the late evening sun crept through the curtained windows. I sat down at the piano, and my hands began to browse over the keys. Something happened to me then. I felt at peace. I felt as though I could reach out and touch God. I found myself playing a melody, once into my head they just seemed to fall into place: 'Precious Lord, take my hand, lead me on, let me stand, I am tired, I am weak, I am worn, throu gh the storm, through the night, lead me on to the light, take my hand, precious Lord, lead me home.' The Lord gave me these words and melody, He also healed my spirit. I learned that when we are in our deepest grief, when we feel farthest from God, this is when he is closest, and when we are most open to his restoring power.
And so I go on living for God willingly and joyfully, until that day comes when He will take me and gently lead me home.
-Tommy Dorsey-
Just as in Psalm 40, you have told the glad news of deliverance
to your congregations and you have not restrained your lips, and you have not hidden God's deliverance within your heart; you have spoken of God's faithfulness and desire to save. I know that you both have professed the glory of God a million times, but keep it up! Beth Moore stated that when we're discouraged or feeling overly challenged, it is a great idea to verbally praise the deliverances that Jesus has executed in our lives. We can think it all day long, but Satan isn't privy to our thoughts like God is. When he hears them spoken, he is reminded that we remember who is Lord and that if He brought us through "that," He can bring us through "this." It reiterates to Satan that we are not going to allow him to experience any victory in our struggle. Miraculously, I find that I gain strength by the reviving memories of the blessings and can put on my game face. Satan can just suit up every day if he feels like it, but in your life, I know that he's going to ride the bench.
Hoping for a great rest-of-the-day!
Leigh
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