I am not a creature who handles sweltering heat well. This is well known in my home. I have a fan going almost year-round. The heat wave that griped the Midwest and East this week was enough to drive me crazy.
Number One Daughter touched my arm and said, "Mommy, you are too hot." Yes, I said, I am always too hot. She waited a beat and then said, "You are always too hot. You are a hottie." I have never been called that before and never will again, but it was music to my ears. So sweet and pure. :) Little Big Boy added, "You are a hottie mommy." it made my day.
29 July 2005
27 July 2005
The blue man
Little Big Boy said, "The blue man said I can have crayons." Our waiter brought us our drinks and Little Big Boy quizzed, "Are you the blue man?" The waiter smiled and laughed and replied, "Yes. Yes, I AM the blue man."
Little Big Boy kept talking with the Blue Man through out dinner and the thing is that the Blue Man enjoyed it. He liked talking with Little Big Boy. Over the course of dinner, I discovered that the Blue Man was going away to college in September. Truth be told, I do not recall what he was going to study, but I wished him well. He earned a tip that night...not because he provided excellent service, which he did, but because he took Little Big Boy's heart into consideration in everything that he did that night.
It didn't matter how many times Little Big Boy wanted to chat. It didn't matter what Little Big Boy wanted to tell him. The Blue Man was interested and sweet. The Blue Man had a smile for Little Big Boy every time that he passed our table. The Blue Man found reasons to hover near Little Big Boy. The Blue Man will be a good daddy.
Perhaps four weeks later, we were out celebrating Number One Daughter's birthday at a pizzeria and Little Big Boy got very upset when G tried to put him in a high chair. We are in that stage where a high chair is more a security than a necessity. Little Big Boy can sit at the table, but he likes to get up and visit with everyone in a place, so we tend to put him in high chair, just to contain some of his bottled enthusiasm for people.
Anyway, G was trying to place Little Big Boy in a high chair and our three year old protested-loudly, "No. I don't want to sit in the high chair. The black man said I can sit on this chair." We smiled at Little Big Boy and let him sit in the chair next to me. He sat there like a big boy. Curious about everyone and everything around us.
The pizzeria has a fire fighter motif. Hats, boots, tools and two child's' pedal pushed fire trucks are suspended from the ceiling. Little Big Boy was excited to see the fire trucks again. We had been seven months earlier to this pizzeria and he wanted to ride the fire truck very badly. He didn't understand then that he couldn't.
This time was different. He decided to ask the black man about it. Our waiter came to our table with our drinks. Little Big Boy looked up at him and said, "Are you the black man?" Our waiter looked at Little Big Boy and smiled, "Yea. I am." Little Big Boy smiled back and stated, "I wish I could ride the fire truck." Then the Black Man replied, "Me, too." Little Big Boy's eyes lit up. He discovered kinship. The Black Man wanted to ride the prized fire truck, too! The waiter left our table.
Then Little Big Boy turned to me and said, "I wish I could ride the fire truck." "I know," I replied, but you can't." Little Big Boy said, "No! I WISH." Silly Mommy.
Little Big Boy is growing up so quickly. He makes distinctions between something that he can or wants to do. That is a big leap. Before this, he only knew whether we would say yes or no to a request. Now he understands that there are things that you just can't do.
But there is a much greater realization at work with Little Big Boy. He is identifying people. He realizes that there are blue men and black men. He knows the difference and it is very important. He knows that there are differences in people. There are differences in men. And the thing that I like best about Little Big Boy's understanding of his world is that he judges people by color. He judges them by a whole rainbow of color. He judges people by the color of their shirts. If only the world could be so blessed.
Little Big Boy kept talking with the Blue Man through out dinner and the thing is that the Blue Man enjoyed it. He liked talking with Little Big Boy. Over the course of dinner, I discovered that the Blue Man was going away to college in September. Truth be told, I do not recall what he was going to study, but I wished him well. He earned a tip that night...not because he provided excellent service, which he did, but because he took Little Big Boy's heart into consideration in everything that he did that night.
It didn't matter how many times Little Big Boy wanted to chat. It didn't matter what Little Big Boy wanted to tell him. The Blue Man was interested and sweet. The Blue Man had a smile for Little Big Boy every time that he passed our table. The Blue Man found reasons to hover near Little Big Boy. The Blue Man will be a good daddy.
Perhaps four weeks later, we were out celebrating Number One Daughter's birthday at a pizzeria and Little Big Boy got very upset when G tried to put him in a high chair. We are in that stage where a high chair is more a security than a necessity. Little Big Boy can sit at the table, but he likes to get up and visit with everyone in a place, so we tend to put him in high chair, just to contain some of his bottled enthusiasm for people.
Anyway, G was trying to place Little Big Boy in a high chair and our three year old protested-loudly, "No. I don't want to sit in the high chair. The black man said I can sit on this chair." We smiled at Little Big Boy and let him sit in the chair next to me. He sat there like a big boy. Curious about everyone and everything around us.
The pizzeria has a fire fighter motif. Hats, boots, tools and two child's' pedal pushed fire trucks are suspended from the ceiling. Little Big Boy was excited to see the fire trucks again. We had been seven months earlier to this pizzeria and he wanted to ride the fire truck very badly. He didn't understand then that he couldn't.
This time was different. He decided to ask the black man about it. Our waiter came to our table with our drinks. Little Big Boy looked up at him and said, "Are you the black man?" Our waiter looked at Little Big Boy and smiled, "Yea. I am." Little Big Boy smiled back and stated, "I wish I could ride the fire truck." Then the Black Man replied, "Me, too." Little Big Boy's eyes lit up. He discovered kinship. The Black Man wanted to ride the prized fire truck, too! The waiter left our table.
Then Little Big Boy turned to me and said, "I wish I could ride the fire truck." "I know," I replied, but you can't." Little Big Boy said, "No! I WISH." Silly Mommy.
Little Big Boy is growing up so quickly. He makes distinctions between something that he can or wants to do. That is a big leap. Before this, he only knew whether we would say yes or no to a request. Now he understands that there are things that you just can't do.
But there is a much greater realization at work with Little Big Boy. He is identifying people. He realizes that there are blue men and black men. He knows the difference and it is very important. He knows that there are differences in people. There are differences in men. And the thing that I like best about Little Big Boy's understanding of his world is that he judges people by color. He judges them by a whole rainbow of color. He judges people by the color of their shirts. If only the world could be so blessed.
25 July 2005
Zach's Foundation
Zach is seven years old.
Zach is adorable.
Zach is a child.
Zach has a journal: http://journals.aol.com/poohbl/hurricanecharley/
Zach has his own FOUNDATION.
He is an angel on Earth.
Zach is one of those rare people who sees the wrong in the world and does something to make it right. He sees people in need and goes about helping them. He isn't paralyzed by the enormity of the job at hand. And that is a gift.
I think that I look at famine, homelessness, child abuse in all of its forms, disease and other maladies and don't know where to start. I can blog them. I can point to resources, but what do I do that is tangible? Not much.
Zach on the other hand has raised thousands of dollars to help people. He is working on an auction right now and is also gathering items to help homeless children. The list of items in each backpack is listed on his website. A link to his site is on the right gutter or my blog under "Zach's Foundation" or you can click on the title of this post and it will take you to his site. Be sure to sign his guest book! Tell him, "Renee, sent me:)"
Zach is adorable.
Zach is a child.
Zach has a journal: http://journals.aol.com/poohbl/hurricanecharley/
Zach has his own FOUNDATION.
He is an angel on Earth.
Zach is one of those rare people who sees the wrong in the world and does something to make it right. He sees people in need and goes about helping them. He isn't paralyzed by the enormity of the job at hand. And that is a gift.
I think that I look at famine, homelessness, child abuse in all of its forms, disease and other maladies and don't know where to start. I can blog them. I can point to resources, but what do I do that is tangible? Not much.
Zach on the other hand has raised thousands of dollars to help people. He is working on an auction right now and is also gathering items to help homeless children. The list of items in each backpack is listed on his website. A link to his site is on the right gutter or my blog under "Zach's Foundation" or you can click on the title of this post and it will take you to his site. Be sure to sign his guest book! Tell him, "Renee, sent me:)"
The real world
I may be re-entering the real world. The work seven days per week world. I had an interview last Thursday. I must admit that I was petrified of leaving my home. I didn't want to go out "there." But I went and not only did I survive it, but I had two great interviews.
My first interview was with the human resources generalist. An assistant sat in on it so that she could begin conducting interviews. Then I met with the department head and the person who would be my immediate supervisor. All of them were very nice and I enjoyed chatting with them very much.
I walked in uncertain of the outcome that I wanted. I walked out with an air of excitement at the possibilities. I love to be busy and challenged. I enjoy learning new things and I have to be learning to keep my interest in something. I think this could work out. It has potential.
Perhaps the best thing about it is that in a way it involves taking care of people. Helping them feel better. That is something that I have longed to do. Just help people. Make a difference. Have a meaningful occupation.
I think this could be it. I think this could be worth heading back out "there" for. I think it could be good for us as a family. I am trying to let it go. To just think and pray on it and then let it go. I am one of those people who take bake my worries, "Here you go, God!" I shout, "Run out for a long one." But after He catches it, I run the distance and grab it back and make sure that we are playing with the same game ball.
Since I am potentially going back out 'there', I know that I am going to have to let go of the ball and see what happens. Today, I'm going to sit on my hands and wait for him to speak to me.
My first interview was with the human resources generalist. An assistant sat in on it so that she could begin conducting interviews. Then I met with the department head and the person who would be my immediate supervisor. All of them were very nice and I enjoyed chatting with them very much.
I walked in uncertain of the outcome that I wanted. I walked out with an air of excitement at the possibilities. I love to be busy and challenged. I enjoy learning new things and I have to be learning to keep my interest in something. I think this could work out. It has potential.
Perhaps the best thing about it is that in a way it involves taking care of people. Helping them feel better. That is something that I have longed to do. Just help people. Make a difference. Have a meaningful occupation.
I think this could be it. I think this could be worth heading back out "there" for. I think it could be good for us as a family. I am trying to let it go. To just think and pray on it and then let it go. I am one of those people who take bake my worries, "Here you go, God!" I shout, "Run out for a long one." But after He catches it, I run the distance and grab it back and make sure that we are playing with the same game ball.
Since I am potentially going back out 'there', I know that I am going to have to let go of the ball and see what happens. Today, I'm going to sit on my hands and wait for him to speak to me.
23 July 2005
Just Another Bogeyman
Rainbow Lorikeet
Yellow. Orange. Green, blue and red.
A lovely sight with a promise on its head.
The reminder from Him that our souls are saved.
The path to Heaven's gates are already paved.
Beauty in our world abounds.
Just turn away from evil's hounds.
Launch a private war from your nest.
Defend it with all of your joy and zest.
Terrorist, you're just another bogeyman,
So jump in line and talk to the hand.
We're NOT afraid.
22 July 2005
We are NOT afraid
Did you know that there is website called, "We are not afraid" dot com? There is. It is dedicated to pictures of people who are not afraid of terrorism. Not even in the face of 9/11, Madrid, London, Embassy bombings, the U.S.S. Cole bombing or any other act of true cowardice.
I must admit that I swore I would NEVER fly again after 9/11. Then 1 1/2 years ago, my brother had to have emergency brain surgery. I never even thought of 9/11. I boarded a plane w/G and we got there. That was all that mattered.
Since then, a lot of things have happened. I all of a sudden couldn't go outside. Couldn't leave the house. Couldn't face the awfulness anymore, but I have been working on it. I confessed my dread to my little sister and she has been helping me. She has coaxed me outside with little mind games that I can play with myself. She tells me why I should go outside, too.
Yesterday, it all began to make sense. The second bombing in London had taken place and she told me that she wished that she could go over there and get on the subway in defiance. I couldn't understand that. How could you face it. Well we discussed it and it began to soak in. She pointed out the website to me and said that it was inspirational.
I went to the site and began looking through the pictures. People were not afraid. And people were creative. Then slowly, mind you, it began to dawn on me...Terror is just that terror. "They" are trying to terrify us into staying home. "They" are trying to make us stay off of the airplanes. To make us stay off of subways, trains and buses. "They" are trying.
I was letting them succeed. I didn't even realize that I was helping the terrorists win. I didn't get it. I didn't get it until yesterday when my little sister and I chatted and then I began to explore the website.
Then I turned to the bible and found a wonderful passage: Matthew 10:28
Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell.
All of a sudden the light went on in my brain. I have no need to fear terrorists. They cannot kill me-not really. They cannot condemn me. They cannot deny me my own loving God. I am saved. WOW.
Then it all made sense and this very morning, I told my little sister: "If I am going to die at the hands of terrorist's attempts to paralyze the world, then I am gonna go out leading the band!!!!" It's true and I mean it. "They" cannot win and I realized it while my younger sister was holding my hand. Thank you, W. Thank you for knowing what to say and do to help me see Him in all of this. "They" will not win because God is on our team. Amen.
I must admit that I swore I would NEVER fly again after 9/11. Then 1 1/2 years ago, my brother had to have emergency brain surgery. I never even thought of 9/11. I boarded a plane w/G and we got there. That was all that mattered.
Since then, a lot of things have happened. I all of a sudden couldn't go outside. Couldn't leave the house. Couldn't face the awfulness anymore, but I have been working on it. I confessed my dread to my little sister and she has been helping me. She has coaxed me outside with little mind games that I can play with myself. She tells me why I should go outside, too.
Yesterday, it all began to make sense. The second bombing in London had taken place and she told me that she wished that she could go over there and get on the subway in defiance. I couldn't understand that. How could you face it. Well we discussed it and it began to soak in. She pointed out the website to me and said that it was inspirational.
I went to the site and began looking through the pictures. People were not afraid. And people were creative. Then slowly, mind you, it began to dawn on me...Terror is just that terror. "They" are trying to terrify us into staying home. "They" are trying to make us stay off of the airplanes. To make us stay off of subways, trains and buses. "They" are trying.
I was letting them succeed. I didn't even realize that I was helping the terrorists win. I didn't get it. I didn't get it until yesterday when my little sister and I chatted and then I began to explore the website.
Then I turned to the bible and found a wonderful passage: Matthew 10:28
Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell.
All of a sudden the light went on in my brain. I have no need to fear terrorists. They cannot kill me-not really. They cannot condemn me. They cannot deny me my own loving God. I am saved. WOW.
Then it all made sense and this very morning, I told my little sister: "If I am going to die at the hands of terrorist's attempts to paralyze the world, then I am gonna go out leading the band!!!!" It's true and I mean it. "They" cannot win and I realized it while my younger sister was holding my hand. Thank you, W. Thank you for knowing what to say and do to help me see Him in all of this. "They" will not win because God is on our team. Amen.
The almost un-birthday
Poor Number One Daughter.
Poor, poor Number One Daughter.
She awoke and water tasted yucky.
Soon, she was vomiting.
Her tummy was so upset.
A cruel joke to play on an angel's birthday.
For several hours, she continued to feel lousey. She couldn't hold anything down. Not crackers. Not white, flat soda. Not water. NOTHING. It was sad to look at her. She said, "You're not supposed to be sick on your birthday!" That's so very true, Honey.
Around 12 noon, she began to feel better. She wanted to try a sundae. Yes, I know what you are thinking: what mother in her right mind would give a tummy ache complaining, vomiting up everything Number One Daughter a sundae? Ahem, HERE I AM. Over here!
She took a bite. Then another and it slid down her throat and into her tummy. Than all of a sudden, she smiled and said, "Mommy, it doesn't taste funny! My tummy feels better." She finished her sundae and we waited to be sure. No more illness. The phantom illness was gone...as quickly as it had arrived.
Then, she said, "Can we go have my birthday now?" Well, we did. NO pierced ears, though. I think after all of her discomfort in the morning that she figured that she need not add insult to injury. Actually it would be the other way around. The insult was being sick in the first place.
In stead of the ears, she got her hair cute. Yes, that is how I meant to spell it; for her haircut was far too cute.;) Bangs and a little frame around her face with long hair. Beautiful. New swimsuit. My little pony backpack for September. And a couple unmentionables and new socks, too. After she had opened her gifts, she made a message for me, it read, "I like my presents. Thank you. Love Number One Daughter." Sigh. Children + love=a wonderful life.
Poor, poor Number One Daughter.
She awoke and water tasted yucky.
Soon, she was vomiting.
Her tummy was so upset.
A cruel joke to play on an angel's birthday.
For several hours, she continued to feel lousey. She couldn't hold anything down. Not crackers. Not white, flat soda. Not water. NOTHING. It was sad to look at her. She said, "You're not supposed to be sick on your birthday!" That's so very true, Honey.
Around 12 noon, she began to feel better. She wanted to try a sundae. Yes, I know what you are thinking: what mother in her right mind would give a tummy ache complaining, vomiting up everything Number One Daughter a sundae? Ahem, HERE I AM. Over here!
She took a bite. Then another and it slid down her throat and into her tummy. Than all of a sudden, she smiled and said, "Mommy, it doesn't taste funny! My tummy feels better." She finished her sundae and we waited to be sure. No more illness. The phantom illness was gone...as quickly as it had arrived.
Then, she said, "Can we go have my birthday now?" Well, we did. NO pierced ears, though. I think after all of her discomfort in the morning that she figured that she need not add insult to injury. Actually it would be the other way around. The insult was being sick in the first place.
In stead of the ears, she got her hair cute. Yes, that is how I meant to spell it; for her haircut was far too cute.;) Bangs and a little frame around her face with long hair. Beautiful. New swimsuit. My little pony backpack for September. And a couple unmentionables and new socks, too. After she had opened her gifts, she made a message for me, it read, "I like my presents. Thank you. Love Number One Daughter." Sigh. Children + love=a wonderful life.
21 July 2005
Happy, happy, happy birthday
Six years.
I can't believe it.
Six years old.
Amazing.
7.21.99
It is a hot sweltering day. And I mean hot. I am wayyyyyy pregnant. And the doctor's office calls to tell me that I can't have my scheduled c-section because there is an emergency. Okay, fine...but REALLY! What a jip!
The day went on and G decided that he may as well just go to work. I spent the day in the AC reading.
That night, precisely five minutes after G fell asleep, I rose to make a trip to the bathroom before I turned out my reading light. I climbed out of bed and realized that there were flashes of lightening. WOW. We were in for a HUGE storm. Just as I began to step away from the bed, a nice little gush took place. "Uh, G?" I said kind of timidly, "my water broke." He replied, "Shut up!"
I wasn't kidding and he began to make phone calls. I got in the shower real quick and then dressed and was ready to go. By then, the sky was falling almost literally. The wind was kicking things around like they were weightless. OH GREAT... a SEVERE THUNDERSTORM warning and a Tornado Watch. Hey, a little drama is good for the adventure factor.
We arrived at the hospital and I'm telling you, I shouldn't have bothered with the shower. I could have washed on the way to and from the car. I was soaked from head to toe. It was very comical and I mean that in the BEST sense. I didn't care about anything. I was ready to meet Number One Daughter.
Well the epidural wouldn't go in and just before the fifth try, the anesthesiologist said if he didn't get it this time, they were going to use a general. Well miraculously it worked. Enter G. There he was all decked out in surgical garb. He looked ready to deliver her by himself.
About 20 minutes later, Number One Daughter cried. It was wonderful. It was awesome. It was SIX years ago.
So Happy Birthday Number One Daughter. You are so sweet, I could pour you on my hot fudge sundae! I love you for the little lady that you are and for the lovely lady that you will be when you grow up. I love you for your sensitivity and laughter and caring ways. I love you for being so graceful and feminine. I love you for being my one and only Number One Daughter.
Cute aside:
She told me this afternoon that she is going to die if she doesn't get her ears pierced tomorrow. she said, "Does it feel like a shot? Will I cry." I said probably. Then she said she would wait until she is older...then after a moment or two she said, "I want my ears pierced. I'm going to be brave."
We called ahead and they are going to pierce both ears at the same time so that she won't have to have the pain twice. She is excited. She picked out her birthday outfit and is all ready for her day.
I can't believe it.
Six years old.
Amazing.
7.21.99
It is a hot sweltering day. And I mean hot. I am wayyyyyy pregnant. And the doctor's office calls to tell me that I can't have my scheduled c-section because there is an emergency. Okay, fine...but REALLY! What a jip!
The day went on and G decided that he may as well just go to work. I spent the day in the AC reading.
That night, precisely five minutes after G fell asleep, I rose to make a trip to the bathroom before I turned out my reading light. I climbed out of bed and realized that there were flashes of lightening. WOW. We were in for a HUGE storm. Just as I began to step away from the bed, a nice little gush took place. "Uh, G?" I said kind of timidly, "my water broke." He replied, "Shut up!"
I wasn't kidding and he began to make phone calls. I got in the shower real quick and then dressed and was ready to go. By then, the sky was falling almost literally. The wind was kicking things around like they were weightless. OH GREAT... a SEVERE THUNDERSTORM warning and a Tornado Watch. Hey, a little drama is good for the adventure factor.
We arrived at the hospital and I'm telling you, I shouldn't have bothered with the shower. I could have washed on the way to and from the car. I was soaked from head to toe. It was very comical and I mean that in the BEST sense. I didn't care about anything. I was ready to meet Number One Daughter.
Well the epidural wouldn't go in and just before the fifth try, the anesthesiologist said if he didn't get it this time, they were going to use a general. Well miraculously it worked. Enter G. There he was all decked out in surgical garb. He looked ready to deliver her by himself.
About 20 minutes later, Number One Daughter cried. It was wonderful. It was awesome. It was SIX years ago.
So Happy Birthday Number One Daughter. You are so sweet, I could pour you on my hot fudge sundae! I love you for the little lady that you are and for the lovely lady that you will be when you grow up. I love you for your sensitivity and laughter and caring ways. I love you for being so graceful and feminine. I love you for being my one and only Number One Daughter.
Cute aside:
She told me this afternoon that she is going to die if she doesn't get her ears pierced tomorrow. she said, "Does it feel like a shot? Will I cry." I said probably. Then she said she would wait until she is older...then after a moment or two she said, "I want my ears pierced. I'm going to be brave."
We called ahead and they are going to pierce both ears at the same time so that she won't have to have the pain twice. She is excited. She picked out her birthday outfit and is all ready for her day.
18 July 2005
Lexi's Mom's journal
These are the entries of Karla Georgeff's journaling about Lexi's final attempt at quadruple organ transplant surgery. I thought that you would want to know:
June 29, 2005 at 09:23 AM CDT
We are slightly delayed here, there is a donor at CHP that is a match with Lexi. The doctor told us that is is not a perfect candidate for the intestine, because the donor was on blood pressure medication and size of donor is larger than they would like. Dr. Soltis told us that if it weren't for the donor being in this hospital, they wouldn't even look. Anyhow, we haven't heard anything yet. I am thinking that it probable won't pan out, because it has been too long again. We were suppose to hear a while ago. Will keep you posted.
June 29, 2005 at 02:22 PM CDT
Lexi just went into surgery. I don't know if they profused the new intestine, so nothing is definite yet. I do know that the liver looks great. I will keep you posted. If the intestine is good we won't hear anything for 2 hours. Karla
June 29, 2005 at 04:05 PM CDT
Karla was just told that they have made the incision in Lexi - so from what it sounds like the transplant is beginning and they are going to be able to use all of the organs for her. Please keep praying that everything goes as planned during this long operation and keep Lexi, Karla, Dale, Jeni, Michael and of course the surgeons and their assistants in your thoughts and prayers! Thanks :)
June 29, 2005 at 11:17 PM CDT
What was our happiest day has now turned into our saddest. The surgeons had to stop the transplant surgery - Lexi was not strong enough to make it through it. God has now chosen Lexi to be with Him and all of her angels. We are so very very sad,,,,,,Please pray for Lexi and Lexi's family for the strength to get through this sad time.
July 01, 2005 at 04:12 PM CDT
Thank you to all of you who have been calling and leaving messages for our family through the most difficult situation that we have ever had to face. We are overwhelmed by your love, support and prayers, and are so proud of Lexi-that she was an inspiration not only to us, but to an entire community and beyond, even for people who did not get a chance to ever meet her. Also, thank you to all that turned out last night for the vigil. The house looked so beautiful when we arrived home. Again, thank you all for everything. --The Georgeff Family
July 18, 2005 at 07:43 AM CDT
I don't know how we will ever be able to thank everyone for all their help, love, support and prayers. I am at a loss for words. I am so proud of Lexi and miss her so terribly! She really was a brave, brave angel. She suffered so much and still maintained her sweet, beautiful self. I do know that she is in a better place and free from pain and suffering. So many people have asked us what happened after we went to Pittsburgh, which is why I am posting this; it is just too painful to have to talk about it so often. Two days before she passed she was having a pretty good evening. Her ammonia levels were high but OK. She was joking around with Dale and I and even talked to a few people on the phone. We are so blessed for that day! The next morning the ammonia started to climb again and continued to get worse on the final day, all she was doing was sleeping. When we knew the surgery was a go, we woke her up to tell her that she would be finally getting her transplant. She told us that she was scared and we told her that everything was going to be OK. I sat with her in the holding area before she went into surgery. We talked and hugged and I must have kissed her a thousand times and told her as many times how much I loved her. Dale and I sat in the waiting room preparing for a long, long wait. Two hours after leaving her we received a call saying that the surgery was under way. At last, we were nervous but glad that her lifesaving surgery was on its way. Then 2 hours later we received a call from Dr. Mazariegos. He told us that Lexi was having a lot of bleeding and that she was having blood pressure problems. He told us that it was possible that Lexi might have an infection that they didn't know about. Our excitement was now turned to nervous and scared. After about another 2 hours we were called and asked to come to the surgery holding area. Now I was feeling terrified and shaky. I couldn't believe what was happening. I asked the nurse if Lexi was all right and she responded "she is holding her own." We waited in the holding area for Dr. Mazariegos it seemed like forever before he came out. He began to tell us that they had to stop the surgery, because her blood pressure was bottoming out and she was on a lot of blood pressure medication already. He said if they didn't stop that she would die on the table. OK I thought, she is going to be OK. Then he continued to tell us that she was going to be brought to the PICU and we could be with her. That is when I realized that she wasn't going to make it and then found out that she wouldn't even make it through the night. We were with her for about an hour before she passed. It all felt like a bad dream. As far as we know there may not have been an infection, she was just to sick and weak to make it through the lengthy surgery.
There had been so much hope and then as the day unfolded, obviously things began to go wrong. I don't think that anyone believed that the outcome would be anything but good. You can hear it in Karla's voice. You could see it on the faces of those who knew and loved her. Lexi left a void that won't be filled, but she also created a huge family of people to lift up her parents and siblings after she passed. Her legacy is that she was brave to the end. She lived her life like she was well, so well in fact that no one, not even her closest friends knew of her ailment until the crisis began in May. There is an angel looking down who earned her wings before she left this life. She gave many people the opportunity to earn theirs too. From the pilots who were on-call 24/7 for at least six months, to the online messages of support from strangers, Lexi touched the lives of people who she would never meet. She's up there running and jumping and eating anything that she likes now. Heaven must taste as good as if feels.
June 29, 2005 at 09:23 AM CDT
We are slightly delayed here, there is a donor at CHP that is a match with Lexi. The doctor told us that is is not a perfect candidate for the intestine, because the donor was on blood pressure medication and size of donor is larger than they would like. Dr. Soltis told us that if it weren't for the donor being in this hospital, they wouldn't even look. Anyhow, we haven't heard anything yet. I am thinking that it probable won't pan out, because it has been too long again. We were suppose to hear a while ago. Will keep you posted.
June 29, 2005 at 02:22 PM CDT
Lexi just went into surgery. I don't know if they profused the new intestine, so nothing is definite yet. I do know that the liver looks great. I will keep you posted. If the intestine is good we won't hear anything for 2 hours. Karla
June 29, 2005 at 04:05 PM CDT
Karla was just told that they have made the incision in Lexi - so from what it sounds like the transplant is beginning and they are going to be able to use all of the organs for her. Please keep praying that everything goes as planned during this long operation and keep Lexi, Karla, Dale, Jeni, Michael and of course the surgeons and their assistants in your thoughts and prayers! Thanks :)
June 29, 2005 at 11:17 PM CDT
What was our happiest day has now turned into our saddest. The surgeons had to stop the transplant surgery - Lexi was not strong enough to make it through it. God has now chosen Lexi to be with Him and all of her angels. We are so very very sad,,,,,,Please pray for Lexi and Lexi's family for the strength to get through this sad time.
July 01, 2005 at 04:12 PM CDT
Thank you to all of you who have been calling and leaving messages for our family through the most difficult situation that we have ever had to face. We are overwhelmed by your love, support and prayers, and are so proud of Lexi-that she was an inspiration not only to us, but to an entire community and beyond, even for people who did not get a chance to ever meet her. Also, thank you to all that turned out last night for the vigil. The house looked so beautiful when we arrived home. Again, thank you all for everything. --The Georgeff Family
July 18, 2005 at 07:43 AM CDT
I don't know how we will ever be able to thank everyone for all their help, love, support and prayers. I am at a loss for words. I am so proud of Lexi and miss her so terribly! She really was a brave, brave angel. She suffered so much and still maintained her sweet, beautiful self. I do know that she is in a better place and free from pain and suffering. So many people have asked us what happened after we went to Pittsburgh, which is why I am posting this; it is just too painful to have to talk about it so often. Two days before she passed she was having a pretty good evening. Her ammonia levels were high but OK. She was joking around with Dale and I and even talked to a few people on the phone. We are so blessed for that day! The next morning the ammonia started to climb again and continued to get worse on the final day, all she was doing was sleeping. When we knew the surgery was a go, we woke her up to tell her that she would be finally getting her transplant. She told us that she was scared and we told her that everything was going to be OK. I sat with her in the holding area before she went into surgery. We talked and hugged and I must have kissed her a thousand times and told her as many times how much I loved her. Dale and I sat in the waiting room preparing for a long, long wait. Two hours after leaving her we received a call saying that the surgery was under way. At last, we were nervous but glad that her lifesaving surgery was on its way. Then 2 hours later we received a call from Dr. Mazariegos. He told us that Lexi was having a lot of bleeding and that she was having blood pressure problems. He told us that it was possible that Lexi might have an infection that they didn't know about. Our excitement was now turned to nervous and scared. After about another 2 hours we were called and asked to come to the surgery holding area. Now I was feeling terrified and shaky. I couldn't believe what was happening. I asked the nurse if Lexi was all right and she responded "she is holding her own." We waited in the holding area for Dr. Mazariegos it seemed like forever before he came out. He began to tell us that they had to stop the surgery, because her blood pressure was bottoming out and she was on a lot of blood pressure medication already. He said if they didn't stop that she would die on the table. OK I thought, she is going to be OK. Then he continued to tell us that she was going to be brought to the PICU and we could be with her. That is when I realized that she wasn't going to make it and then found out that she wouldn't even make it through the night. We were with her for about an hour before she passed. It all felt like a bad dream. As far as we know there may not have been an infection, she was just to sick and weak to make it through the lengthy surgery.
There had been so much hope and then as the day unfolded, obviously things began to go wrong. I don't think that anyone believed that the outcome would be anything but good. You can hear it in Karla's voice. You could see it on the faces of those who knew and loved her. Lexi left a void that won't be filled, but she also created a huge family of people to lift up her parents and siblings after she passed. Her legacy is that she was brave to the end. She lived her life like she was well, so well in fact that no one, not even her closest friends knew of her ailment until the crisis began in May. There is an angel looking down who earned her wings before she left this life. She gave many people the opportunity to earn theirs too. From the pilots who were on-call 24/7 for at least six months, to the online messages of support from strangers, Lexi touched the lives of people who she would never meet. She's up there running and jumping and eating anything that she likes now. Heaven must taste as good as if feels.
15 July 2005
Adopt a soldier
A woman's son was deployed in Iraq and he told her about soldiers who did not receive mail. They didn't ever receive mail from anyone at any time. It stirred her mother's heart greatly. She decided to write letters to some of the soldiers. Soon the list of needy soldiers grew and Soldier's Angels was born. I recently registered and became a Soldier's Angel. It is a neat way to do something tangible to assist our troops and to let them know that they are not alone.
I have pasted information below that you can check out and decide whether or not you want to register. I would like to offer something up to you: You cannot discuss the location of your soldier. You must not tell people where your soldier is. There are accounts of terrorists surfing chatrooms of military families and trying to obtain information. Just be discreet and private about it and do not discuss your soldier or name your soldier online or in a chatroom and you will be fine.
There is another program, too. For a six dollar donation, a soldier will be given the opportunity to provide their child with a toy. You pay six dollars and the soldier sends a toy to his child with a card and the soldier also gets to choose the gift. It is a neat program and you can access that program at this link: http://www.prweb.com/releases/2004/2/prweb106818.htm
You don't have to adopt a soldier to take part. There are many programs on the Soldier's Angel website; for example, you can make a blanket that will be sent to a wounded soldier. It is a neat program. There is a story on the website where a soldier shows his blanket off. It is touching and heart warming. There is so much you can do to let soldiers know that you are here and that you care...about them.
I have said this before: I remember during the Vietnam war that I wondered why everyone hated my dad. It made me very sad. Now, you can do something that will effect the children as well as the soldier. Children need to see that they are not alone in their caring for their parent who is deployed. What a wonderful gift to give to a child.
Here is the story of Soldier's Angels and a link to the site can be reached by clicking on the title of this post. Thank you. God bless you and God bless America.
"If anybody is wondering: Where are the young idealists? Where are the people willing to devote themselves to causes larger than themselves? They are in uniform in Iraq, straddling the divide between insanity and order."
David Brooks
Please step forward and become a SOLDIERS ANGEL.
Adopt A Soldier , Write a letter, Make a Blanket of Hope or join one of our MANY teams NOW!
Our angels provide aide and comfort to ALL United States deployed & wounded military heroes. Angels who adopt a hero send a card or letter a week and at least two care packages a month. We have found that this support from home truly helps to " Bring Home Healthy Soldiers " Click on the title of this post to apply to be a Soldier's Angel or to discover how you can help in a number of different ways. If you are representing a company or group of people who wish to become involved with our program, please contact us: pcksoldieradoptns@sbcglobal.net.
I have pasted information below that you can check out and decide whether or not you want to register. I would like to offer something up to you: You cannot discuss the location of your soldier. You must not tell people where your soldier is. There are accounts of terrorists surfing chatrooms of military families and trying to obtain information. Just be discreet and private about it and do not discuss your soldier or name your soldier online or in a chatroom and you will be fine.
There is another program, too. For a six dollar donation, a soldier will be given the opportunity to provide their child with a toy. You pay six dollars and the soldier sends a toy to his child with a card and the soldier also gets to choose the gift. It is a neat program and you can access that program at this link: http://www.prweb.com/releases/2004/2/prweb106818.htm
You don't have to adopt a soldier to take part. There are many programs on the Soldier's Angel website; for example, you can make a blanket that will be sent to a wounded soldier. It is a neat program. There is a story on the website where a soldier shows his blanket off. It is touching and heart warming. There is so much you can do to let soldiers know that you are here and that you care...about them.
I have said this before: I remember during the Vietnam war that I wondered why everyone hated my dad. It made me very sad. Now, you can do something that will effect the children as well as the soldier. Children need to see that they are not alone in their caring for their parent who is deployed. What a wonderful gift to give to a child.
Here is the story of Soldier's Angels and a link to the site can be reached by clicking on the title of this post. Thank you. God bless you and God bless America.
"If anybody is wondering: Where are the young idealists? Where are the people willing to devote themselves to causes larger than themselves? They are in uniform in Iraq, straddling the divide between insanity and order."
David Brooks
Please step forward and become a SOLDIERS ANGEL.
Adopt A Soldier , Write a letter, Make a Blanket of Hope or join one of our MANY teams NOW!
Our angels provide aide and comfort to ALL United States deployed & wounded military heroes. Angels who adopt a hero send a card or letter a week and at least two care packages a month. We have found that this support from home truly helps to " Bring Home Healthy Soldiers " Click on the title of this post to apply to be a Soldier's Angel or to discover how you can help in a number of different ways. If you are representing a company or group of people who wish to become involved with our program, please contact us: pcksoldieradoptns@sbcglobal.net.
13 July 2005
100 mph breakfast
buzzzzzZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. WHAM! He literally hit the alarm clock snooze button. Every day was hurry, hurry, hurry. He dozed for those glorious ten more minutes and then he had to get out of bed. It was another hot and humid morning. He sat on the edge of the bed and then turned to look at his wife. She was looking at him sleepily, but she needed to get up and going, too.
He looked at his wife and said, "I should have taken out the trash last night like you told me to."
He got up and went to their bathroom. He had to hurry this morning there was so much to do: shower, shave, dress, breakfast, take out the trash-it was supposed to be curbside no later than 6:30 a.m.; "Why didn't I take it out last night," he asked half aloud.
She was making breakfast. Their four-year old son was off and running already this morning. He was playing with his cars on the floor of the kitchen and asking Mommy what was for breakfast. "I don't know yet," she replied somewhat annoyed. There never was enough time to think around here she thought.
"But what's to eat," her son asked again? "I don't know, I said" was her irritated reply, "What do you want for breakfast?" He was excited to have the chance to pick, "HOT DOGS!" She just looked at him and rolled her eyes, "Hot dogs are not for breakfast."
He entered the kitchen freshly shaved and ready for breakfast. He asked his son why he had to play in the middle of the floor. He said it a bit too angrily and he knew it, but he didn't apologize. He had too much to do this morning and no time to deal with his little four year old son, who at this moment was simply in the way.
Neither his mommy nor his daddy noticed that his feelings were hurt by their curt answers to his questions and comments. They were too busy to notice. He looked lost. Or was it that he looked rejected?
For the millionth time that morning, he wished that he had taken out the trash last night. He was busy tying the bag from the kitchen trash can. He had just emptied all of the trash cans from the bedrooms, bathrooms, living room, den and that should be it. "Shoot," he said angrily. He still had to drag a few things out from the garage to add to the trash pile. It was 6:45 a.m. "At least the trash collector is running late this morning," he muttered to himself.
She finished making a pot of coffee and buttering toast. Then she set out boxes of cereal and some fruit. She called her little boy, but he didn't come to the table. She went to make sure that her husband had taken all of the trash out of the garage, too.
He had left the front door open while he took out the trash and she left it open for him to close when he came back inside for breakfast. As she went back to the kitchen, she thought, "He should have taken the trash out last night."
He came walking back inside and went to wash his hands. The trash truck was rumbling to a stop in front of their house. He finished washing up and went into the kitchen. "Where's Jacob?" he asked his wife. She didn't know, so she called him to the table again. "Do you want to take a thermos of coffee with you to work?" she asked him after she called their son to the table. "Sure," he said and then he began to eat some toast.
Meanwhile, the trash man is tossing all of their trash into his truck. There were lots of bags. A duffel bag and some odds and ends. He was accustomed to the variety of things that people tossed out. This was his last stop on the street, so after he tossed all of their trash into the truck, he walked to the side and turned on the compactor. Then chills went up his spine. From inside the truck, he heard faint yelling and crying. He turned the compactor off immediately. Inside the back of the truck was four year old Jacob.
The little four year old had slipped out of his home and hidden inside a duffel bag that was lying by the side of the curb. The trash man: Inis Ramadani, stood beside his truck that morning to run the compactor. Many trash collectors sit inside the truck and operate the compactor. If Ramadani had done so, he would never have heard the faint cries for help from Jacob.
God must have whispered in Ramadani's ear Monday, July 11th. Ramadani said that he knew immediately that the faint sound was a child. Ramadani is the father of five. He doesn't think that he is a hero. He was only doing his job. Miraculously, Jacob was not injured in the incident. I bet he had hot dogs for breakfast.
He looked at his wife and said, "I should have taken out the trash last night like you told me to."
He got up and went to their bathroom. He had to hurry this morning there was so much to do: shower, shave, dress, breakfast, take out the trash-it was supposed to be curbside no later than 6:30 a.m.; "Why didn't I take it out last night," he asked half aloud.
She was making breakfast. Their four-year old son was off and running already this morning. He was playing with his cars on the floor of the kitchen and asking Mommy what was for breakfast. "I don't know yet," she replied somewhat annoyed. There never was enough time to think around here she thought.
"But what's to eat," her son asked again? "I don't know, I said" was her irritated reply, "What do you want for breakfast?" He was excited to have the chance to pick, "HOT DOGS!" She just looked at him and rolled her eyes, "Hot dogs are not for breakfast."
He entered the kitchen freshly shaved and ready for breakfast. He asked his son why he had to play in the middle of the floor. He said it a bit too angrily and he knew it, but he didn't apologize. He had too much to do this morning and no time to deal with his little four year old son, who at this moment was simply in the way.
Neither his mommy nor his daddy noticed that his feelings were hurt by their curt answers to his questions and comments. They were too busy to notice. He looked lost. Or was it that he looked rejected?
For the millionth time that morning, he wished that he had taken out the trash last night. He was busy tying the bag from the kitchen trash can. He had just emptied all of the trash cans from the bedrooms, bathrooms, living room, den and that should be it. "Shoot," he said angrily. He still had to drag a few things out from the garage to add to the trash pile. It was 6:45 a.m. "At least the trash collector is running late this morning," he muttered to himself.
She finished making a pot of coffee and buttering toast. Then she set out boxes of cereal and some fruit. She called her little boy, but he didn't come to the table. She went to make sure that her husband had taken all of the trash out of the garage, too.
He had left the front door open while he took out the trash and she left it open for him to close when he came back inside for breakfast. As she went back to the kitchen, she thought, "He should have taken the trash out last night."
He came walking back inside and went to wash his hands. The trash truck was rumbling to a stop in front of their house. He finished washing up and went into the kitchen. "Where's Jacob?" he asked his wife. She didn't know, so she called him to the table again. "Do you want to take a thermos of coffee with you to work?" she asked him after she called their son to the table. "Sure," he said and then he began to eat some toast.
Meanwhile, the trash man is tossing all of their trash into his truck. There were lots of bags. A duffel bag and some odds and ends. He was accustomed to the variety of things that people tossed out. This was his last stop on the street, so after he tossed all of their trash into the truck, he walked to the side and turned on the compactor. Then chills went up his spine. From inside the truck, he heard faint yelling and crying. He turned the compactor off immediately. Inside the back of the truck was four year old Jacob.
The little four year old had slipped out of his home and hidden inside a duffel bag that was lying by the side of the curb. The trash man: Inis Ramadani, stood beside his truck that morning to run the compactor. Many trash collectors sit inside the truck and operate the compactor. If Ramadani had done so, he would never have heard the faint cries for help from Jacob.
God must have whispered in Ramadani's ear Monday, July 11th. Ramadani said that he knew immediately that the faint sound was a child. Ramadani is the father of five. He doesn't think that he is a hero. He was only doing his job. Miraculously, Jacob was not injured in the incident. I bet he had hot dogs for breakfast.
11 July 2005
9:11 a.m. Wake Up Call
What follows is a newspaper clipping about the death of an airman in Iraq and then an exchange of letters to the editor. There is a little bit of narration, but not much. My eyes welled up with tears when I read the exchange. My little sister, whose husband is an airman, forwarded this story to me. It is basically the epitome of the adage: don't judge a book by its cover.
I was very moved by this exchange and believe you will be too.
8 June 2005
Albuquerque Tribune
Air Force Capt. Jeremy Fresques, a Farmington native and Farmington High School graduate, joined a growing list of New Mexicans who have died in the war on terrorism, when the surveillance plane in which he flew crashed last week 80 miles northeast of Baghdad. Three of his U.S. colleagues and an Iraqi airman also were killed. Fresques was awarded the Bronze Medal posthumously Friday.
Fresques was 26. He left behind a wife — also an Air Force captain — and his parents. His sacrifice — and theirs — in the name of our nation's security and the cause of democracy was immense.
Col. O.G. Mannon, commander of the 16th Special Operations Wing, rightly called Fresques and his comrades "heroes." We regard Fresques and all men and women with New Mexico connections as family and hold them deeply in our hearts.
Capt. Fresque was killed in the line of duty on Memorial Day 2005, a month before he was to return home, and news of his death was conveyed that day to Lt. Col. Scott Pleus, commander of the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base in Glendale, Arizona, where Capt. Fresques had previously been stationed. Lt. Col. Pleus, along with a chaplain and a medical technician, drove that evening to Yuma, Arizona, to undertake the sad duty of notifying Capt. Fresque's parents of their loss. About a week later, Lt. Col. Pleus was notified that a memorial service would be held for Capt. Fresque in Sun City, Arizona, on 15 June and that a fly-by from Luke AFB had been requested as part of the service in Capt. Fresque's honor.
Lt. Col. Pleus quickly assented: "Of course we would do it. It's a four-ship formation. They fly straight and level over the gravesite and then, directly over the service, the No. 3 plane pulls away while the others fly straight ahead. Symbolically he's headed for heaven. It's the highest form of respect we can pay to a fallen airman. Everyone involved in such a service considers it an honor. The fliers. The honor guard. The bugler who plays taps. All of us.
While preparing to head from Glendale to Sun City (a distance of about 6 miles) for the memorial service, four F-16 fighter jets from Luke AFB flew a holding pattern over Glendale's Arrowhead Mall, prompting a local resident unaware of their purpose to send a sarcastic letter of complaint to the editor of The Arizona Republic:
A letter to the Editor
Question of the day for Luke Air Force Base: Whom do we thank for the morning air show? Last Wednesday, at precisely 9:11 a.m., a tight formation of four F-16 jets made a low pass over Arrowhead Mall, continuing west over Bell Road at approximately 500 feet. Imagine our good fortune! Do the Tom Cruise-wannabes feel we need this wake-up call, or were they trying to impress the cashiers at Mervyns' early-bird special?
Any response would be appreciated.
Tom MacRae, Peoria
The correspondent received a response from Col. Robin Rand, commander of Luke AFB's 56th Fighter Wing, in the pages of The Arizona Republic the following day:
"Luke Air Force Base was asked to respond to a letter writer's question about a "morning air show" he observed recently ("A wake-up call from Luke's jets," Letters, Thursday)"
"The "wake-up call" witnessed the morning of June 15 was a formation of F-16 jets from Luke Air Force Base lining up for a memorial service in Sun City at the gravesite for Air Force Capt. Jeremy Fresques, an officer assigned to Air Force Special Operations."
"Fresques gave his life in defense of our country while serving in Iraq. It is unfortunate that at a time when our nation is at war someone would believe we have less than honorable and professional reasons for such a mission."
"The commander of the fighter squadron was given the difficult duty of informing the family of Capt. Fresques on Memorial Day that the officer, a husband, son and Arizonan, had died in Iraq. On behalf of the men and women at Luke Air Force Base, we continue to keep Jeremy and his family in our thoughts and prayers."
-Col. Robin Rand
Luke Air Force Base
Four days later, newspaperaper also publisheresponseonse from Lt. Col. Pleus himself:
Regarding "A wake-up call from Luke's jets": On June 15, at precisely 9:12 a.m., a perfectly timed four-ship of F-16s from the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base flew over the grave of Capt Jeremy Fresques. Capt. Fresques was an Air Force officer who was previously stationed at Luke Air Force Base and was killed in Iraq on May 30, Memorial Day.
At 9 a.m. on June 15, his family and friends gathered at Sunland Memorial Park in Sun City to mourn the loss of a husband, son and friend. Based on the letter writer's recount of the flyby, and because of the jet noise, I'm sure you didn't hear the 21-gun salute, the playing of taps, or my words to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques as I gave them their son's flag on behalf of the president of the United States and all those veterans and servicemen and women who understand the sacrifices they have endured.
A four-ship flyby is a display of respect the Air Force pays to those who give their lives in defense of freedom. We are professional aviators and take our jobs seriously, and on June 15 what the letter writer witnessed was four officers lining up to pay their ultimate respects.
The letter writer asks, "Whom do we thank for the morning air show?" The 56th Fighter Wing will call for you, and forward your thanks to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques, and thank them for you, for it was in their honor that my pilots flew the most honorable formation of their lives.
-Lt. Col. Scott Pleus
Luke Air Force Base
To his credit, the complainant, Mr. MacRae, tendered a written apology which was published in The Arizona Republic on 9 July:
Regarding "Flyby honoring fallen comrade" (Letters, June 28): I read with increasing embarrassment and humility the response to my unfortunate letter to The Republic concerning an Air Force flyby ("A wake-up call from Luke's jets," Letters, June 23). I had no idea of the significance of the flyby, and would never have insulted such a fine and respectful display had I known.
I have received many calls from the fine airmen who are serving or have served at Luke, and I have attempted to explain my side and apologized for any discomfort my letter has caused. This was simply an uninformed citizen complaining about noise.
I have been made aware in both written and verbal communications of the four-ship flyby, and my heart goes out to each and every lost serviceman and woman in this war in which we are engaged. I have been called un-American by an unknown caller and I feel that I must address that. I served in the U.S. Navy and am a Vietnam veteran. I love my country and respect the jobs that the service organizations are doing. Please accept my heartfelt apologies.
-Tom MacRae
Peoria
I was very moved by this exchange and believe you will be too.
8 June 2005
Albuquerque Tribune
Air Force Capt. Jeremy Fresques, a Farmington native and Farmington High School graduate, joined a growing list of New Mexicans who have died in the war on terrorism, when the surveillance plane in which he flew crashed last week 80 miles northeast of Baghdad. Three of his U.S. colleagues and an Iraqi airman also were killed. Fresques was awarded the Bronze Medal posthumously Friday.
Fresques was 26. He left behind a wife — also an Air Force captain — and his parents. His sacrifice — and theirs — in the name of our nation's security and the cause of democracy was immense.
Col. O.G. Mannon, commander of the 16th Special Operations Wing, rightly called Fresques and his comrades "heroes." We regard Fresques and all men and women with New Mexico connections as family and hold them deeply in our hearts.
Capt. Fresque was killed in the line of duty on Memorial Day 2005, a month before he was to return home, and news of his death was conveyed that day to Lt. Col. Scott Pleus, commander of the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base in Glendale, Arizona, where Capt. Fresques had previously been stationed. Lt. Col. Pleus, along with a chaplain and a medical technician, drove that evening to Yuma, Arizona, to undertake the sad duty of notifying Capt. Fresque's parents of their loss. About a week later, Lt. Col. Pleus was notified that a memorial service would be held for Capt. Fresque in Sun City, Arizona, on 15 June and that a fly-by from Luke AFB had been requested as part of the service in Capt. Fresque's honor.
Lt. Col. Pleus quickly assented: "Of course we would do it. It's a four-ship formation. They fly straight and level over the gravesite and then, directly over the service, the No. 3 plane pulls away while the others fly straight ahead. Symbolically he's headed for heaven. It's the highest form of respect we can pay to a fallen airman. Everyone involved in such a service considers it an honor. The fliers. The honor guard. The bugler who plays taps. All of us.
While preparing to head from Glendale to Sun City (a distance of about 6 miles) for the memorial service, four F-16 fighter jets from Luke AFB flew a holding pattern over Glendale's Arrowhead Mall, prompting a local resident unaware of their purpose to send a sarcastic letter of complaint to the editor of The Arizona Republic:
A letter to the Editor
Question of the day for Luke Air Force Base: Whom do we thank for the morning air show? Last Wednesday, at precisely 9:11 a.m., a tight formation of four F-16 jets made a low pass over Arrowhead Mall, continuing west over Bell Road at approximately 500 feet. Imagine our good fortune! Do the Tom Cruise-wannabes feel we need this wake-up call, or were they trying to impress the cashiers at Mervyns' early-bird special?
Any response would be appreciated.
Tom MacRae, Peoria
The correspondent received a response from Col. Robin Rand, commander of Luke AFB's 56th Fighter Wing, in the pages of The Arizona Republic the following day:
"Luke Air Force Base was asked to respond to a letter writer's question about a "morning air show" he observed recently ("A wake-up call from Luke's jets," Letters, Thursday)"
"The "wake-up call" witnessed the morning of June 15 was a formation of F-16 jets from Luke Air Force Base lining up for a memorial service in Sun City at the gravesite for Air Force Capt. Jeremy Fresques, an officer assigned to Air Force Special Operations."
"Fresques gave his life in defense of our country while serving in Iraq. It is unfortunate that at a time when our nation is at war someone would believe we have less than honorable and professional reasons for such a mission."
"The commander of the fighter squadron was given the difficult duty of informing the family of Capt. Fresques on Memorial Day that the officer, a husband, son and Arizonan, had died in Iraq. On behalf of the men and women at Luke Air Force Base, we continue to keep Jeremy and his family in our thoughts and prayers."
-Col. Robin Rand
Luke Air Force Base
Four days later, newspaperaper also publisheresponseonse from Lt. Col. Pleus himself:
Regarding "A wake-up call from Luke's jets": On June 15, at precisely 9:12 a.m., a perfectly timed four-ship of F-16s from the 63rd Fighter Squadron at Luke Air Force Base flew over the grave of Capt Jeremy Fresques. Capt. Fresques was an Air Force officer who was previously stationed at Luke Air Force Base and was killed in Iraq on May 30, Memorial Day.
At 9 a.m. on June 15, his family and friends gathered at Sunland Memorial Park in Sun City to mourn the loss of a husband, son and friend. Based on the letter writer's recount of the flyby, and because of the jet noise, I'm sure you didn't hear the 21-gun salute, the playing of taps, or my words to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques as I gave them their son's flag on behalf of the president of the United States and all those veterans and servicemen and women who understand the sacrifices they have endured.
A four-ship flyby is a display of respect the Air Force pays to those who give their lives in defense of freedom. We are professional aviators and take our jobs seriously, and on June 15 what the letter writer witnessed was four officers lining up to pay their ultimate respects.
The letter writer asks, "Whom do we thank for the morning air show?" The 56th Fighter Wing will call for you, and forward your thanks to the widow and parents of Capt. Fresques, and thank them for you, for it was in their honor that my pilots flew the most honorable formation of their lives.
-Lt. Col. Scott Pleus
Luke Air Force Base
To his credit, the complainant, Mr. MacRae, tendered a written apology which was published in The Arizona Republic on 9 July:
Regarding "Flyby honoring fallen comrade" (Letters, June 28): I read with increasing embarrassment and humility the response to my unfortunate letter to The Republic concerning an Air Force flyby ("A wake-up call from Luke's jets," Letters, June 23). I had no idea of the significance of the flyby, and would never have insulted such a fine and respectful display had I known.
I have received many calls from the fine airmen who are serving or have served at Luke, and I have attempted to explain my side and apologized for any discomfort my letter has caused. This was simply an uninformed citizen complaining about noise.
I have been made aware in both written and verbal communications of the four-ship flyby, and my heart goes out to each and every lost serviceman and woman in this war in which we are engaged. I have been called un-American by an unknown caller and I feel that I must address that. I served in the U.S. Navy and am a Vietnam veteran. I love my country and respect the jobs that the service organizations are doing. Please accept my heartfelt apologies.
-Tom MacRae
Peoria
God's speed, Captain Jeremy Fresques. We've got your back. For your service and sacrifice for your country, we thank you, G, R, 18 year old, Number One Daughter & Little Big Boy
"Me, My Girl and another on the way!"
Go see the news!!! Check out the news!!!!! http://chocolatemakesitbetter.blogspot.com/
10 July 2005
Nightmares
Number One Daughter came into our room overnight. She was bawling her eyes out. She told me that she had a very, very bad dream. I asked her if she remembered what happened. I was hugging her tight and she replied, "Little Big Boy died." I held her tighter and tried to soothe her broken heart. I told her the things that you say when a little one has a nightmare.
Throughout the day, the nightmare bothered her. She would shake her head from side to side to get rid of the thoughts. She explained the dream to me in great detail and it was very bad. I do not know why she would have such an awful nightmare.
I do know that I need to pay more attention to what she watches right before bedtime. The kids are very in to Power Rangers. I think that the kids do better when we all read books. Number One Daughter read a whole book to me on Friday. All by herself! She did it and I was in awe.
Then Little Big Boy said that it was his turn. He "read" it to us and it was as awesome. He looked at the pictures and told the story that he thought was being told. Each time it was time to turn the page he would say, "Then..." It was adorable.
It is easy now that summer vacation is here to break out of the routine, which is actually what they need more than ever. Routine is a cue of what is supposed to be happening and when. Books are a great part of the routine because they have to use their imagination, but it doesn't make their imagination runaway with them.
It is too convenient to let the routine fall apart when something is amiss, like illness or unexpected surgery or the like. It is easier in a moment of pain or something to shoo them off to the television. That is the sorry way of it. Sigh.
In all actuality, it would be just as easy to coax them into the bed with me and have them read books with me or to me. It would be so much better for all of us. I don't know why I get lazy at parenting.
I take my love of children very seriously and my intention to be a good parent very seriously, too. There are those times when I feel like pushing it to the back burner. I want to be better. I want to do better. Even when I am ailing, I want to be better at parenting. There is a saying that before you can fix a problem, you have to recognize it. Early Saturday morning, the problem slapped me in the face.
The tears that were falling were not mine. Number One Daughter and Little Big Boy deserve my undivided attention even when I am not feeling up to it. She had a tough time going to sleep tonight. We kept telling her to think about Christmas or horseback riding lessons or any number of wonderful things that she enjoys, but the nightmare kept invading her mind. The loop. I hope that she doesn't have the loop. I have to try to help her fight the development of the loop.
Tonight, the television was off before bedtime. Tonight, she was tucked in among her beloved dolls and stuffed animals. Tonight, I pray that she finds light and life in her dreams. Tonight, I hope that she changes the channel if nightmares come knocking. Tonight I pray that she will sleep in peace and comfort. Sweet dreams.
Throughout the day, the nightmare bothered her. She would shake her head from side to side to get rid of the thoughts. She explained the dream to me in great detail and it was very bad. I do not know why she would have such an awful nightmare.
I do know that I need to pay more attention to what she watches right before bedtime. The kids are very in to Power Rangers. I think that the kids do better when we all read books. Number One Daughter read a whole book to me on Friday. All by herself! She did it and I was in awe.
Then Little Big Boy said that it was his turn. He "read" it to us and it was as awesome. He looked at the pictures and told the story that he thought was being told. Each time it was time to turn the page he would say, "Then..." It was adorable.
It is easy now that summer vacation is here to break out of the routine, which is actually what they need more than ever. Routine is a cue of what is supposed to be happening and when. Books are a great part of the routine because they have to use their imagination, but it doesn't make their imagination runaway with them.
It is too convenient to let the routine fall apart when something is amiss, like illness or unexpected surgery or the like. It is easier in a moment of pain or something to shoo them off to the television. That is the sorry way of it. Sigh.
In all actuality, it would be just as easy to coax them into the bed with me and have them read books with me or to me. It would be so much better for all of us. I don't know why I get lazy at parenting.
I take my love of children very seriously and my intention to be a good parent very seriously, too. There are those times when I feel like pushing it to the back burner. I want to be better. I want to do better. Even when I am ailing, I want to be better at parenting. There is a saying that before you can fix a problem, you have to recognize it. Early Saturday morning, the problem slapped me in the face.
The tears that were falling were not mine. Number One Daughter and Little Big Boy deserve my undivided attention even when I am not feeling up to it. She had a tough time going to sleep tonight. We kept telling her to think about Christmas or horseback riding lessons or any number of wonderful things that she enjoys, but the nightmare kept invading her mind. The loop. I hope that she doesn't have the loop. I have to try to help her fight the development of the loop.
Tonight, the television was off before bedtime. Tonight, she was tucked in among her beloved dolls and stuffed animals. Tonight, I pray that she finds light and life in her dreams. Tonight, I hope that she changes the channel if nightmares come knocking. Tonight I pray that she will sleep in peace and comfort. Sweet dreams.
08 July 2005
Some day...
After the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001, I wondered why I was having children. I was three months pregnant with Little Big Boy at the time and Number One Daughter was two. I was devastated by the attack on the World Trade Center. It shook the foundation of everything that I believed in. I, like most people, believed that we were safe.
Here on the shores of the United States, we are supposed to be safe from such heinous crimes. Yet, here it was, a terrorist attack so brazen and well planned that it took our whole country by surprise. Never mind that signs and warnings had existed prior to that fateful day. The fact is the warnings were ignored because no one realized that it was possible to bring terrorism to the United States of America. How wrong we were.
No one was immune from this ignorance or maybe it was conceit; we could not fall victim to such awful terror-WE ARE THE UNITED STATES. It was accepted from the White House in Washington, D. C. all the way to the little white house on the end of my block. The sad fact was terrorism was here and apparently it is here to stay.
Yesterday terrorists attacked London. I think that we identify with it so much not only because of September 11th, but because it is our homeland. In a way, we are tied more deeply to Europe than we often admit. That, of course, is not the sole reason that we identify with the tragedy in London, but it is a part of it.
As I watched the pictures of survivors leaving the site of the explosions, I recalled the soot covered faces of September 11th. I recalled the empty gaze that the survivors wore and the throngs of people in business suits who were walking toward home. A place that I'm sure seemed farther away at that point in time than any time prior. A place where family members were no doubt huddled near the television for word of the extent and impact of the attack.
Yesterday was another day that will be remembered because "soft targets" are the only language that terrorists speak. The terror that exists in the world does make me wonder why I have children or why anyone would want to bring children into this world. Today, I discovered the answer to that question.
We have children because there is good in the world. There actually is more good than bad; we just hear so much more about the bad. That is an old story, I know, but the fact is that there is more good in the world. There is a lot of evil, too. Yes, so much evil, but God has promised us that he will purge evil from this world. He promises that he will wipe evil out of our lives so that we can live in peace and harmony together without a care, concern or tear. This is HIS promise.
So we have children because HE wants us to. He wants us to go forth and raise our families. He wants us to live the life that he has planned for us. I struggle some times with the fact that we are taught that we are following a plan that has been laid out before us. So many awful things happen along the way that I question why that is part of the plan.
But if I examine the truth: He will deliver us from evil. The questions fade away. There will be a day in Eden once again. Everything else we just have to live in His name, in His honor. We live the results of the terror in His name and one day it will end and be purged forever and we are charged with teaching our children about this good news. We are trusted to teach our children about God.
Maybe we have children and teach them about God, so that they can spread the word. If we tell enough people about God, then they will discover Him and His love. Then evil will die on its own. Maybe that is what He is awaiting. He is giving us a chance to share His word and see if we can learn the lesson ourselves. Like a parent. You teach right and wrong and then ultimately, your children have to make their decision about what to do. So he watches and lets us stumble and stub our toes on the evils. Hopefully, we will win, but if we don't, He will pick us up like a proud Daddy who is lifting his child away from any danger.
Today I realized just how deep his love is. You have to let your children make their mistakes and stub their toes. You have to let your children fight their own battles. When it gets to be too much, our Father will step in. Some day we will win the fight or He will win it for us. Some day peace will reign forever. By bringing children into the world, we are carrying on God's promise of peace to us..."let the children come..." Teach your children the value of peace and harmony. That is HIS lesson for us. Teach children to love and honor life. Teach children to understand his desire for us to be happy and peace loving. Teach children not to hate for any reason.
We are hear to spread that message. Live for HIM. Bring children into the world for HIM. Some day we will win. We will win. WE WILL WIN. God bless children everywhere. AMEN
Here on the shores of the United States, we are supposed to be safe from such heinous crimes. Yet, here it was, a terrorist attack so brazen and well planned that it took our whole country by surprise. Never mind that signs and warnings had existed prior to that fateful day. The fact is the warnings were ignored because no one realized that it was possible to bring terrorism to the United States of America. How wrong we were.
No one was immune from this ignorance or maybe it was conceit; we could not fall victim to such awful terror-WE ARE THE UNITED STATES. It was accepted from the White House in Washington, D. C. all the way to the little white house on the end of my block. The sad fact was terrorism was here and apparently it is here to stay.
Yesterday terrorists attacked London. I think that we identify with it so much not only because of September 11th, but because it is our homeland. In a way, we are tied more deeply to Europe than we often admit. That, of course, is not the sole reason that we identify with the tragedy in London, but it is a part of it.
As I watched the pictures of survivors leaving the site of the explosions, I recalled the soot covered faces of September 11th. I recalled the empty gaze that the survivors wore and the throngs of people in business suits who were walking toward home. A place that I'm sure seemed farther away at that point in time than any time prior. A place where family members were no doubt huddled near the television for word of the extent and impact of the attack.
Yesterday was another day that will be remembered because "soft targets" are the only language that terrorists speak. The terror that exists in the world does make me wonder why I have children or why anyone would want to bring children into this world. Today, I discovered the answer to that question.
We have children because there is good in the world. There actually is more good than bad; we just hear so much more about the bad. That is an old story, I know, but the fact is that there is more good in the world. There is a lot of evil, too. Yes, so much evil, but God has promised us that he will purge evil from this world. He promises that he will wipe evil out of our lives so that we can live in peace and harmony together without a care, concern or tear. This is HIS promise.
So we have children because HE wants us to. He wants us to go forth and raise our families. He wants us to live the life that he has planned for us. I struggle some times with the fact that we are taught that we are following a plan that has been laid out before us. So many awful things happen along the way that I question why that is part of the plan.
But if I examine the truth: He will deliver us from evil. The questions fade away. There will be a day in Eden once again. Everything else we just have to live in His name, in His honor. We live the results of the terror in His name and one day it will end and be purged forever and we are charged with teaching our children about this good news. We are trusted to teach our children about God.
Maybe we have children and teach them about God, so that they can spread the word. If we tell enough people about God, then they will discover Him and His love. Then evil will die on its own. Maybe that is what He is awaiting. He is giving us a chance to share His word and see if we can learn the lesson ourselves. Like a parent. You teach right and wrong and then ultimately, your children have to make their decision about what to do. So he watches and lets us stumble and stub our toes on the evils. Hopefully, we will win, but if we don't, He will pick us up like a proud Daddy who is lifting his child away from any danger.
Today I realized just how deep his love is. You have to let your children make their mistakes and stub their toes. You have to let your children fight their own battles. When it gets to be too much, our Father will step in. Some day we will win the fight or He will win it for us. Some day peace will reign forever. By bringing children into the world, we are carrying on God's promise of peace to us..."let the children come..." Teach your children the value of peace and harmony. That is HIS lesson for us. Teach children to love and honor life. Teach children to understand his desire for us to be happy and peace loving. Teach children not to hate for any reason.
We are hear to spread that message. Live for HIM. Bring children into the world for HIM. Some day we will win. We will win. WE WILL WIN. God bless children everywhere. AMEN
07 July 2005
Insanity
The images from London are very disturbing. I will never get used to the idea that civilians are targets of terror. It makes no sense to me. Obviously, no terror attack makes sense, but to target mommies and daddies who are doing nothing more than earning a living for their children is insanity.
Last night 18 year old announced that he was enlisting. He has considered it from many angles. I am concerned to say the least. However, I am a military raised woman, who knows that the military is necessary.
How many "wars to end all wars" will it take?
God bless England and if you have family there for any reason, God bless you, too.
My nephews were born in England. It breaks my heart. I also thought immediately about the images of Tom and Katie in Europe. It would send chills down my spine if I had just been in Europe.
My children are awake now and I am just thankful that we are where we are. I hope you are safe and well, too.
God bless America and God bless the free world.
Last night 18 year old announced that he was enlisting. He has considered it from many angles. I am concerned to say the least. However, I am a military raised woman, who knows that the military is necessary.
How many "wars to end all wars" will it take?
God bless England and if you have family there for any reason, God bless you, too.
My nephews were born in England. It breaks my heart. I also thought immediately about the images of Tom and Katie in Europe. It would send chills down my spine if I had just been in Europe.
My children are awake now and I am just thankful that we are where we are. I hope you are safe and well, too.
God bless America and God bless the free world.
05 July 2005
I've lost my voice
I have not been able to find my voice. I can muddle through a post or invent a post, but in reality, I have lost my voice.
My thoughts won't gel. I am stunned, I think. I first learned of Lexi's plight six months ago. A group of women had made a Winnie the Pooh comforter to raffle off for some charity and instead of using it for the charity, they gave it to Lexi. They wrapped her up in a homemade hug.
I know that she is healthy and wants for nothing now. I know that she is better off. I know that she wasn't my child. Yet, in the back of my mind, I can hear her parents' sobbing. I can hear her siblings crying for her. I can hear these things and I cannot speak.
I do not think that it is about Lexi. It isn't about Shasta Groene, who was miraculously found alive in Idaho or the mystery in Aruba. It is not about children dying of cancer or at the hand of their parents or someone else. No it is not about them.
It is about me. I cannot for the life of me figure out how I am supposed to stop things like these from happening. I know that I want to help protect children. I know how much I love children. I do not know how to use my knowledge or abilities to help them.
So my voice is gone. My dad and my husband try to tell me that I cannot save the world. Well that may be true, but I cannot figure out how to do something meaningful in my little corner of it.
I used to earn my living with my voice. Right now, I feel like I have opened the mic and that my mouth is open, but there is nothing for me to say.
My thoughts won't gel. I am stunned, I think. I first learned of Lexi's plight six months ago. A group of women had made a Winnie the Pooh comforter to raffle off for some charity and instead of using it for the charity, they gave it to Lexi. They wrapped her up in a homemade hug.
I know that she is healthy and wants for nothing now. I know that she is better off. I know that she wasn't my child. Yet, in the back of my mind, I can hear her parents' sobbing. I can hear her siblings crying for her. I can hear these things and I cannot speak.
I do not think that it is about Lexi. It isn't about Shasta Groene, who was miraculously found alive in Idaho or the mystery in Aruba. It is not about children dying of cancer or at the hand of their parents or someone else. No it is not about them.
It is about me. I cannot for the life of me figure out how I am supposed to stop things like these from happening. I know that I want to help protect children. I know how much I love children. I do not know how to use my knowledge or abilities to help them.
So my voice is gone. My dad and my husband try to tell me that I cannot save the world. Well that may be true, but I cannot figure out how to do something meaningful in my little corner of it.
I used to earn my living with my voice. Right now, I feel like I have opened the mic and that my mouth is open, but there is nothing for me to say.
03 July 2005
02 July 2005
Live 8 Hunger
What About Me
Well there's a little boy waiting at the counter of the corner shop
He's been waiting down there, waiting half the day,
They never ever see him from the top
He gets pushed around, knocked to the ground,
He gets to his feet and he says...
Refrain
What about me?
It isn't fair
I've had enough,
now I want my share
Can't you see,
I wanna live
But you just take more than you give
Well, there's a pretty girl serving at the counter of the corner shop
She's been waiting back there,
waiting for a dream,
Her dreams walk in and out, they never stop
Well, she's not too proud,
to cry out loud
She runs to the street and she screams...
Refrain
What about me?
It isn't fair
I've had enough,
now I want my share
Can't you see,
I wanna live
But you just take more than you give
More than you give...
Take a step back and see the little people
They might be young, but they're the ones that make the big people big
So listen as they whisper:"What about me?"
And now I'm standing on the corner,
all the world's gone home
Nobody's changed,
nobody's been saved
And I'm feeling cold and alone
I guess I'm lucky, I smile a lot
But sometimes I wish for more than I've got...
Refrain
What about me?
It isn't fairI've had enough,
now I want my share
Can't you see, I wanna live
But you just take more than you give
What about me?
What about me?
What about....me?
What about me?
What about me?
01 July 2005
For Lexi and her family...
There are many websites dedicated to parents who have lost children. One is called Bravenet, where I found this quote:
"Most people dream of Angels,
I held one in my arms."
You who dwell in the shelter of the Lord,
Who abide in His shadow for life,
Say to the Lord, "My Refuge,
My Rock in Whom I trust."
Refrain
And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.
The snare of the fowler will never capture you,
And famine will bring you no fear;
Under His Wings your refuge,
His faithfulness your shield.
Refrain
And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.
You need not fear the terror of the night,
Nor the arrow that flies by day,
Though thousands fall about you,
Near you it shall not come.
Refrain
And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.
For to His angels He's given a command,
To guard you in all of your ways,
Upon their hands they will bear you up,
Lest you dash your foot against a stone.
Refrain
And He will raise you up on eagle's wings,
Bear you on the breath of dawn,
Make you to shine like the sun,
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.
And hold you in the palm of His Hand.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
