A Kenmore Moment

What is that smell? An unusual odor roused me from the chair where I sat, laptop-clad, tapping out revisions in a math text. I summoned Victoria and we followed our noses to the kitchen. I determined that the scent was electrical – like wires burning. I sniffed each outlet as well as the telephone, stove, oven, dishwasher, trash compactor (pee-yew!), and refrigerator. I suspected the phone and unplugged it. Hmmm - It did smell like a hot phone. Victoria suspected the refrigerator. Sniff, sniff, sniff. She may be right. I pulled it away from the wall and stared.

My mind wandered to an all too familiar fantasy – wishing Dad were here. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to see Dad? I’d call to tell him about a small crisis and he’d drop by with a tool box to fix it or dispense advice. Dad always knew what to do with things like this.

Click. What was that noise? My reverie was broken, and I refocused on the task at hand – identifying the new and mysterious smells and sounds in my kitchen. The odor seemed to be fainter now and I didn’t hear any more clicks. I shrugged my shoulders, said a quick prayer for safety from electrical wiring mishaps, and returned to my project. From time to time I heard a faint click that reminded me of an oven preheating, but the smell had dissipated.

Early the next morning a “plip” caught me by surprise as I headed out the door. Was something leaking? When I returned from an appointment, and reached into the freezer for a package of ground beef to defrost, my senses were overwhelmed as the clues fell into place. I felt like Monk just before he summarizes, “Here’s what happened…” My freezer compartment was transforming itself into a rainforest.

Click. Obviously the smell was connected to this tragedy and the “plink” was the liquidating of the icemaker’s inventory. Click. Now what? How old was this appliance? What is that click? I thought about Dad again. Click. He could remove the grill, discover the culprit, and announce whether it was worth fixing or whether it was time for a new refrigerator. Click. Sometimes Dad could tell you what was wrong just by what he heard. One the time he told me to replace the CV joints on Bobby’s car while along for a quick trip to the grocery store.

I remember holding the flashlight for Dad as he installed a compressor in the patio freezer. I held the flashlight when he diagnosed and repaired some mysterious thing-a-ma-jig on the seaside green Chevy Impala. I held the flashlight as he removed and installed a garbage disposal and hot water heater. And for all the flashlight holding, none of Dad’s fix-it know how was added to my skill set.

If only I could call Dad. I’ll bet that he could even tell me over the phone that it’s probably this or that based on my description of the problem. But now was not the time for phone calls. Now it was time for action. We hauled all of the meat to the garage freezer and assessed the condition of the refrigerator compartment. It seemed to be cold.

Relieved that all was not lost, I decided to give the situation more thought. Click. No sense rushing. Click. I can do a little research on the Internet and decide whether replacing or repairing makes more sense. Click. I’ll check out the price of a new refrigerator. Click. Maybe I could save money by calling a handyman instead of an appliance dealer. Click.

And this morning I discovered the significance of Click. Click is the death rattle of a refrigerator. When it stops, everything begins to warm up. And suddenly, without warning, I was overwhelmed. I went into my bathroom to cry. I really missed Dad. I can get a new refrigerator, but Dad is irreplaceable. “Pops, I could really use your help right now,” I said out loud to no one in particular. Tears flowed and my mind was blank with grief for several minutes.

And then, as suddenly as it began, I regained my composure and stopped crying. I know that the grief of losing Dad will come and go unexpectedly and last longer than all my appliances. But for right then, I decided to go look at new refrigerators. You see, I’m having a party at my house tomorrow night and I could really use one.

John's Incredible Pizza - WOW!

We had a great time at John’s Incredible Pizza in Roseville celebrating our 15 year old’s birthday with several friends. Here are the highlights…The buffet format allowed us to avoid time spent calculating what flavor pizza, how much pizza, and how much soda to order. The game tokens came preloaded onto cards – no dividing up coins. The variety of the foods made everyone happy with their meal (kids, adults, and those with severe food allergies). It had all the latest video games, amusement style rides, and interactive games (from trivia quizzes to “Deal or No Deal” and carnival style watergun races). We were assigned a hostess who handled all of the tedious details such as refilling pitchers of soda, cutting and serving the cake, organizing the presents and cleanup so that the adults could enjoy the party and take pictures. The facility is HUGE. That’s a good thing since all 10 party rooms were filled (14-18 people each) and the 5 other dining halls had lots of diners as well. It felt crowded, but the only lines were for the fresh donuts and ice cream. The place was crawling with employees. When two of our guests had trouble with a video game, an employee was right there to help. And the (not so) lowlights…The delicious fresh mini donut machine couldn’t keep up with the crowd. These little treats are so tasty that there is always a line for them which kept me from eating my fill. (Oops - that might be a good thing!) The kids had to be pried away when we were ready to leave. Rounding all of them up would have exhausted the most dedicated Border Collie. Honestly, the kids weren’t ready to leave, but we had an hour drive home and stuff to do in the a.m., so we pushed and pulled to get them out the door. The more than 3+ hours we spent there seemed to fly by. The older generation suffered a bit of “overstimulation” and sorely needed a break. We were thankful for the ESPN style room with an adult décor, but it was still loud with several televisions showing sporting events. Although we would have loved an “adults only lounge” I appreciated seeing lots of families together – I didn’t see any disruptive or obnoxious kids.

Further '08 at Wolf Mountain

I learned about Wolf Mountain, a 640 acre youth camp nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, through Darrick, a family friend. Every summer Darrick attended one of the programs held on this beautiful site just outside of Grass Valley. His focus was horsemanship, a Wolf Mountain specialty. Other programs include outdoor education for public and private schools and a comprehensive climbing and ropes program.

Both of our daughters have attended camps at Wolf Mountain as well. We know firsthand that campers have a wonderful time at Wolf Mountain and return home with a new network of friends, several hours of tales to regale any willing (or captive) audience, and pride in the accomplishments they achieved during their week away from the city.

But despite my second-hand familiarity with Wolf Mountain, I had never seen any of it for myself. True, I had listened to hours of camp stories, looked at hundreds of photographs, signed several registration forms, and could practically recite the rules of “Mission Impossible;” yet, I had not set foot on Wolf Mountain property. All of that changed on March 29, 2008 as I experienced Further ‘08.

I was invited to spend a few days in Arizona with my family for Mom’s 75th birthday bash. When I saw that my youngest could attend a history camp during the time that I would be away, I was thrilled. That would free my hubby from duty for one kiddo, leaving him with his hands full juggling work, pets, and two teens. So, I signed the registration forms and sent Vicki packing to Wolf Mountain while I flew south.

When I returned from Arizona, there was a message on my answering machine from Darrick. He’s now a permanent staff member at Wolf Mountain, working in the kitchen. He was able to visit with Vicki at camp and invited our family to experience Further ’08, a community open house celebration. Even though I was tired from my trip, I was curious about the camp and decided to give it some consideration. I picked Victoria up from her week away and she was excited about the possibility of returning the next day, so we went home and tried to get as much rest as possible that evening.

The following afternoon, both of my girls invited friends to tag along and we made our way back to the camp. It was like hitting Sam’s Club when all the sample carts are set up. All of the activities at Wolf Mountain were available at no cost. We signed registration forms and waivers, boarded a Magic Carpet transport, and we were off on an adventure.

We began with a trail ride. We reviewed safety precautions, were issued helmets and assigned a mount. It had been a couple of years since I had been on a horse, and I was pleased to get a refresher course explaining how to start, stop, turn, etc… I don’t think I’ve ever met a nicer corral full of horses and we thoroughly enjoyed our excursion through the woods.

Next, we tackled the rock climbing wall. This definitely looks easier than it is. Only one member of our group made it to the top and rang the bell, but I came really close. It was a challenge that we all enjoyed and we each felt like we had achieved a personal best.

Shrieks of joy from the zip line had beckoned us while we were on our trail ride, so we made our way to the ropes area. We stopped to watch several participants who were trying the “Leap of Faith” and before long, two members of our group were harnessed, helmeted, and waiting to make this spectacular climb. After ascending 65’, they would shuffle off a tiny platform onto two planks. Perched at the end of these planks, they would crouch and spring forth, arms extended, in an attempt to grab a trapeze bar. It made me so proud to see my sometimes timid twelve year old make the climb and jump with all her might. Even though she missed, I’m sure she’ll make the attempt again and succeed eventually.




Our next stop was the zip line. This was a high speed adventure over a creek and through the trees. We all loved it and were a little surprised at its heart-pounding effects. Then we headed to the archery range where we were humbled by another activity that looks effortless – it’s not! We would not have fared as well as some of our Native American ancestors. Our final activity was pedal carts. The girls raced around the basketball court, legs pumping madly. It was tiring, but very enjoyable.

We had a full day and didn’t even do everything. We did get to visit with Darrick, but needed to get back to town by 6:30. We didn’t have time for the other ropes courses, paintball, the guided tour, the free dinner, music, or the evening program. Further ’08 was a real treat and I must commend the Wolf Mountain administration and staff for making it available to the public. It gave me an even greater appreciation of the amazing growth opportunities available to youth right in our backyard.

Another Further ’08 event is scheduled for June 7th. For more information, see the Wolf Mountain website at www.wolfmountain.org.

My Best April 1st Ever

Today is April 1st. It's one of my favorite days! I love a good prank, so is today a favorite because of all of the great jokes that are played today? No, not at all, although it began that way.

Rewind to March, 1995. I had a six year old boy, an almost four year old boy, and was pregnant and due soon. I didn't know whether I was having a boy or a girl, but I was excited to be having the baby on April 1st. I thought having an April Fool's baby would be so much fun that I often told people, "This baby will be born on April 1st."

Our pastor's wife cautioned me, "Don't say that, it might happen."

I would reply, "I hope so, it will be so much fun!" I had plans to call my family and announce "It's a boy" or "It's a girl" followed by "April Fools!"

And, when I went into labor on March 31st, I was so happy. Sure enough on April 1st, early in the a.m., I met Emily Moriah Ward - my first girl. And did I call everyone and do the April Fool's joke?

No.

Emily was born with a significant birth defect and the joy we felt at the moment of delivery was quickly replaced with anxiety and apprehension as our tiny baby was examined and prepped for a colostomy. Instead of delivering punchlines, I was crying, praying, and basically melting down.

Friends and family rallied to our support and we prayed, listened to medical explanations, signed a surgical release (for a colostomy) and waited. We waited while more tests were run; we waited to visit in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit; we waited for out-of-town relatives to arrive; and we waited to figure out "What next?"

Then, after Emily was taken to surgery, the most amazing thing happened. The surgeon returned from the colostomy way too early. Emily didn't need it after all. The surgeon was as perplexed as I was overjoyed. Just before he cut into Emily's abdomen, a nurse found a tiny opening that was somehow overlooked during all of previous extensive examinations. And despite having predicted that Emily was missing "innards" and lacked a fully connected intestinal tract, now it looked as if all her parts were there, in all the right places. Emily needed a quick fix surgery, but did not need the colostomy as originally diagnosed.

I experienced both my lowest low and highest high that day. I was so thankful that Jesus healed Emily even though I was convinced of the worst case scenario. It occurred to me that it was the best April Fool's joke ever. My "faith" didn't have anything to do with her healing - God ordained it and it pleased Him to do it for us.

Every April 1st, I think about that day - the worst day of my life that turned into the best day of my life - and I can't help but feel more thankful than the day it all happened. I have been blessed with a wonderful daughter that has only grown more and more dear as the years fly by.