Doorways

"doorways"~a new photo collection by jerri

Maybe I'm strange, but I like doors...

I like what doors do.

I like what doors represent.

I like the infinite variety of doors.

I like to photograph doors.

Here is a photo of one doorway in my neighborhood.

I love this particular doorway. I love the plants. I love how the screen door is ajar. I love the mosaic tile numbers. I love that the house is green...for me, it all works together to create such an inviting picture.

Do you suppose that the people who live inside of this house are hospitable?

(I imagine them to be.)

What would this doorway say to us if it were able to speak? What kinds of stories might this door have to tell about the people who live inside, about the people who pass by, or about various and sundry individuals who stop by for a visit?

What secrets might this door be keeping in?

What dangers might this door be keeping out?

I can imagine all kinds of things.

Can you?

Yeah well, maybe doors don't do much for you? Maybe you are bored stiff right now?

If that's the case, you might not want to read my blog over the next few days because I'm going to throw up a few more doorway photos and musings over the next week.

I'll even post a photo of my own home's doorway. Wait until you see our doorway. It's a sadly funny kind of doorway....very metaphorical, very sweet...very Jerri.

Curious? Well then, stay tuned. There are more doorways to come!

What if....

What if Jesus showed up in church this Sunday and told our congregations that it is more important for us to care about one another than it is to worry about the three B's; that is to say, buildings, budgets, and butts in seats?

What if Jesus then went on to say that true worship of the Father occurs when people gather together to remember that their lives have meaning....and that there is more, so much more of God's life available to us than we ever dreamed possible?

What if Jesus gathered us so closely around himself that we could hear the beating of his heart and in that moment of sacred sharing , we heard Jesus whisper that his greatest desire was for us to love one another and to help one another as we go out and love the world?

What if Jesus went on to say that all of our wealth, our money, our homes, our boats/cars/whatever, are not our own? What if Jesus patiently explained to us how EVERYTHING belongs to God? What if Jesus were somehow able to impress upon each one of us that every breath we draw flows from the life and love of God Himself?

What if Jesus grabbed up the offering plates and threw them like frisbees onto our podiums and banished them from our churches, commanding us to share all of our resources with one another, to give to the poor, to live inter-dependently.

What if Jesus called for our children, all of our children, and what if Jesus stood before us all and instructed us to raise His children, as a community, as Christ's family, together.

Do you think your church would listen?

I'm not sure my church would listen....we certainly haven't listened very well thus far.

I wonder if we ever will?

Secrets

Want to hear a secret?

Sometimes I like to watch TLC's show, "A Baby Story".

My secret?

I cry everytime the baby is born.

Everytime.

Riverfest

This past weekend a festival of sorts was held in our neighborhood.

It was a city-wide event, organized by Reid Saunders and nearly 200 local area church leaders.

There was music, food, carnival games, arts and crafts, gi-normous inflatable playgrounds for tots, skateboard, BMX and freestyle motocross exhibits and athletes...in short, there was a little bit of something available for nearly every generation's entertainment.

It was quite the spectacle and best of all, it was free to the public.

Oh, but make no mistake, even though this "giant family block party" was absolutely free of charge, it still cost a cool $400,000 to organize, promote and execute.

So what was the point? Why Riverfest? Why spend in excess of $400,000 and countless hours organizing this two day event? I can answer those questions with two words.

Evangelism and entertainment.

I'm guessing there was a whole lot of fun to be had, fun that was age specific and culturally relevant. I'm guessing there was some good music to be heard and I'm guessing that there were more than a few folks who made decisions for Christ.

I say "I'm guessing", because I didn't go to Riverfest. Why?

I kept coming back to that $400,000. I kept thinking about how there are 650+ kids registered in our school district who don't have homes. Conservative estimates indicate that there are actually 900+ homeless children if you take into account those children too young to attend school, and those homeless teens who have already dropped out.

Organizers claimed that Riverfest was going to change lives.

I found myself wondering how? How were lives going to be changed? And what lives? Do you suppose any one of the 900+ homeless kids found a home because of Riverfest?

Ok, I'm not stupid. I get that we are talking eternal values here. I get that one person's decision for Christ causes all of the angels in heaven to celebrate with great joy. I get that. I really do.

I also get that this event was intended to evangelize, to bring people into relationship with Christ. I get that....but dang, doesn't anyone else get it?

It cost 400,000 dollars people! Riverfest cost $400,000.

Did Jesus command us to host community wide festivals in his name? Maybe I missed that part in the Bible?

Nearly every Christian I know has read Matthew 25. That's the part in the Bible where Jesus clearly instructs us to feed the hungry, to clothe the poor, to care for the sick, to visit the incarcerated and to house the homeless. We are instructed to have special concern for the orphans and the widows. We are to care for the "least of these", because they are Christ.

That $400,000 would have gone a long way in meeting those kinds of needs in my community; and who knows, a few souls might have been saved along the way too.

I don't know, it all seems upside down to me.

Yes, I know that Jesus commanded us to "go and make disciples of all the earth." I'm just not sure that a $400,000 fun fest was what Christ had in mind. Especially in a community where more than 50% of that community's children live in poverty.

Ok, just so you hear me, I'm going to say this as loudly, as clearly, and as succinctly as I am able.

I'm tired of events, and churches, and pastors, and fellow Christians, who seem more interested in talking about Jesus than they are in actually doing what Jesus told us to do.

We could talk all day, every day about what a great guy Jesus was; but if we don't do what Christ asked us to do......well, what's the point?

Riverfest seemed just a tad self-serving to me, like it was just one more fun event for Christians and possibly their outchurched/unchurched family and friends to attend.

It's so much dirtier, so much more heartbreaking to meet Christ in the faces of hungry children, meth addicts, and the mentally ill.

Oh, I know that for some of you out there in cyber-land, I'm preaching to the choir and the rest of you either don't give a damn or think I'm whack anyway. So, before I completely lose myself in a good rant and begin foaming at the keyboard, I'm going to just stop typing and push the little orange "publish post" button.

There, mission accomplished.

Life is messy...redux.

Yesterday I wrote that my life is messy.

If you could see my insides, the real me, you would know that I am a selfish, hurtful, frightened person. You would also know that I am compassionate, giving and when the need arises I can be quite fierce, brave even. If you looked inside me, you would see both my capacity to sin and my capacity to love, to forgive, to be holy as God is holy,

All I want is a church where it is safe to be who I am. A place to be authentic. A place that makes room for people like me, the outcast with an unlovely and broken soul.

The closest place I've come to experiencing "authentic church" is an AA meeting. After over a decade of sobriety, I still go to meetings. There's one in particular that I love to attend. It's a women's group. The women there are real. They are honest about who they are and they embrace the real Jerri, and I feel safe. For me, it's a holy place, but it's also a messy place. Oh, make no mistake, it's a messy messy place filled with tears, and groans, and laughter and swearing...but it's holy because it's a God-filled place.

This group has recently seen an influx of desperate mothers. Young women with young children who crave sobriety and community. Young women who lack resources, who don't have baby sitters and yet, they need meetings. They need recovery and they've heard about our meeting and they are coming.

They are coming because they've heard ours is a group that practices good recovery, where the group members work the program and love one another. Oh, if only you could see them. If only you could see the hunger in their eyes....they are so very, very hungry for new life. A life free from the brokenness of addiction. And so they come, and they bring their children with them.

The children's presence has created a small division within the veteran group members. Some can't stand having the distraction of children present in the meetings. Some think it's inappropriate. Some have mixed feelings and others, like myself, believe those kids deserve a sober mother. Some, like myself, praise God that so many women even want to get sober in the first place.

Next week, after our Monday night meeting, we will convene our monthly business meeting, where we will read the 12 traditions of AA. And we will pay especially close attention to the second tradition, which reads: For our group purpose there is but one ultimate authority - a loving God as He may express Himself in our group conscience. Our leaders are but trusted servants; they do not govern.

We will open the meeting up for discussion, and we will determine our group conscience regarding the presence of children at our weekly meetings. It won't be easy. It will be messy. People will disagree, it's possible some feelings may be hurt. Our discussion may become heated; but by the end of the evening, a group conscience will be reached. It may not be the outcome I desire, or it may be, who knows?

The point is, we are each willing to admit that we don't have control. We are each willing to release that control into the hands of God. We are each willing to trust the Holy Spirit to move our group to a consensus that's pleasing to God, that honors Him, so that we can continue to create a holy space for healing and hope.

This is the kind of church I crave, but haven't really found.

I'm just like those newly sober women in my AA group with their hungry eyes. My eyes are hungry too. Hungry for a place to worship God, to explore this new life in Him, hungry for community and caring.

You see, people in recovery have figured something out that those of us in church would do well to either learn or rediscover in ourselves. People in recovery know that you can't do recovery alone. You need others to heal, to hold you accountable, to guide you along the way. Being a christian is the same. You can't be a christian alone either. We need each other.

That's why I hunger so for a real church, with real people, complete will all of this life's messiness.

And the crazy thing is, I trust God is at work. I trust that there is a purpose to all that I am feeling and experiencing regarding my spiritual and religious journey. Knowing this, trusting as I do, sometimes makes the living part easier, sometimes it doesn't. It's a mixed bag and it's messy.

Life is just plain messy. No matter how hard you trust. No matter how hard you believe. No matter what, life is messy.

And that's all I'm left with again today. It sucks sometimes, doesn't it?

My messy life.

My life is messy.

There's no other way to say it.

My relationships are messy. My house is messy. Often times my heart is messier still.

I suppose that is why I long for a community of messy people.

I suppose that is why I long for a church that reflects the messy realities of daily life.

I want to go to church on Sunday and hear snoring babies. I want to see toddlers crawling under pews as they chase after their errant crayons/cheerios/you-fill-in-the-blank. I want to see pre-schoolers drawing all over the sermon notes tablets and I want to smile inside as I watch them reading their pew bibles upside down.

I want to see those elementary age children talking, squirming around, restless to play and vibrantly alive. I want to see the tweenies with their fresh, oft times anxious faces. I want to see the teens and the young adults.

I want to see young families and old families and older adults.

I want to see black faces, brown faces and all the colors in between.

I would like for my church to be the kind of church that even welcomes our four legged companions. Yeah, you read that right. I would like for my church to be a dog church. After all, I'm convinced that my dog loves better than most people. Dogs in general love better, and forgive faster. We could learn alot from our dogs in church.

And if a baby cries during a service, is that such a crime?

If a toddler dances down the aisles during worship, what is the harm?

Would it be so wrong for someone to wail with grief, or shout for joy?

What I really want is a place to be real.

I need a place where it is safe for me to admit that I often don't enjoy reading my bible, and to confess that much of it bores me to tears. I need a place and the ears to hear the questions I have about the parts of the Bible that I do actually read. I need for someone to care that I am so fearful inside. I need for someone to murmur knowingly when I express my doubt that God loves me, that He cares, that He is near.

I need a community of people who are willing to embrace me in all my messiness, who are capable of seeing the real me in the midst of this life's chaos.

And I want to see others in their realness too. I want the masks to slip away. I want for us to be vulnerable and transparent to one another.

I want us to risk making mistakes, and to forgive quickly when we do.

I want to see Jesus shining in another person's eyes because they see Christ shining in mine.

Is that really asking too much?

Is it?

I wish to goodness that it weren't.

Church as community.

I've been thinking alot about church, or more specifically, about the one church I've called my own for the past nine years.

I've gone to this particular church for nearly a decade.

I've participated in bible studies. I've led Christ centered 12 step recovery groups. I've spoken to Shepherding groups about the spiritual disciplines of fasting, simplicity and silence. In other words, I've been a part of the fabric of this church in very real and significant ways.

I'm not sure what I expected when I first walked into our church nine years ago. I was, at best, a spiritual seeker. I knew God was real, but I thought He was a vindictive, punitive God and Christ made no sense to me at all, so I'd discarded Him completely.

I went to church because I had questions about God. I went because I was lonely and I craved community. I went because on some deep, intuitive level I sensed that there had to be more to this life than what I was experiencing.

I am now convinced that the real reason I went to church was because in some mystical way, I was responding to God's call, to His desire to draw me to Himself.

The funny thing is, I never really found a safe place at church to ask my God questions. I never found the answer to my own loneliness and I most certainly did not discover any real or lasting community.

And I think to some extent, that is what this post is about. It is about a failing of community, or again, more specifically, it is about how my church has failed as a Christian community.

Several years ago, a homeless African American man walked into our church and was treated shamefully. I wrote about that here.

One morning, a man came seeking comfort after hearing the news that his wife had breast cancer. He found none, or precious little comfort in our church lobby or with our church staff. I wrote about that here.

An inebriated, homeless man was barred entry into our sanctuary for Sunday service. I wrote about that incident here.

A friend, and longstanding member of this same church was facing homelessness and when she sought assistance from our church she was turned away. I wrote about that too, you can read about it here.

I referred a young mother to our church earlier this Fall. She'd just been released from jail and was in need of linens, towels, etc in order to furnish a room for herself and her daughter in an Oxford house. No help, no response ever came. A homeless teen we know and care for needed new glasses and again, our church did not respond.

When I was ill earlier this year and hospitalized not once, but five separate times, not one soul from our church called, or visited, or offered succour of any kind.

Now, for a long time I've thought that these things happen to me and to others in my sphere of influence/vision because I am such an incredible fuck-up. The love and support and community I saw others enjoy, or at least heard was happening within the church community , was never mine. Nor was that love and support extended to those like me. I figured we must all be such unworthy fuck-ups that somehow, in some way, we didn't deserve entrance into this community.

I would never had admitted to this on a conscious level, because doing so would have revealed two things. It would have revealed that I am still deeply wounded and struggling with my own self-esteem; and two, that I have not fully grasped and internalized the truth of the gospel message. (And God forbid that anyone who's ever publicly taught within a church such as mine admit to such failings.)

I've spent the past four months on a church fast, praying and processing and asking God why do these things happen to me and to the people I care about? Why are we, the marginalized, and the hurting, and the poor, denied access to the same love and support seemingly offered to all the "proper" Christians within my church community? What are we doing wrong?

God hasn't answered. At least not in a real, lightening-bolt-from-the-sky kind of way; but I am beginning to grow into this realization that what I am experiencing is a failure of community. It is not that my church is "bad", or that I am "bad", or that the entire body of Christ is a failure. This one particular community has failed to do what a community should do.

It has failed to care. It has failed to love.

And now that I know this, I am not certain what my responsibility in all of this truly is; but I do know this much. I am a member of this community, and as such, I do share some responsibility.

In the meantime, I've broken my church fast. In returning to church, I see that little has changed, within me or within my community. I continue to struggle with the words I hear preached and the disconnect between what I see lived. I continue to struggle with the demonstrated lack of caring and the felt lack of community.

I continue to struggle and in the midst of it all, I know that God is with me. He is the only thing that keeps me going. He is my head. He is my heart. He is my very soul. And so I stand with Him, and I stay and I endeavor to love as God loves.

At this point, what more can I do?

A day in the life....

Today is such a busy day.

Once I get the kids off to school, take my 2 mile power walk, and shower, I will head downtown to listen as the powers-that-be reveal our community's 10 year plan to end homelessness. I will listen, I will applaud and then I will head home.

Did you read that? Home. When the rally is finished, I will head home. We have a home. Over 680 children in my community do not. Did you catch that? More than 680 children.....homeless. Homeless. No place to call their own.

God in heaven, that hurts. It really hurts.

Then I will head out again to register at our local community college to take that Spanish language class I've been hankering to take. I'm going to stretch this old brain of mine, invigorate my neural pathways and I'm going to learn to speak a language that has long eluded me. I want to be able to communicate with our Latino community. I want to do so in their language. Why, you ask? Why not?

Once I've completed the registration process, I will rush home to whip up my famous spag-o-licious crockpot spaghetti sauce for dinner. I need to get that sauce simmering because I won't be home for dinner. Instead, I will be attending a Social Services Advisory Board meeting, where I will undoubtedly create a stir because I intend to question the whole "measurable outcomes" movement that's so big right now in our social services community. Not challenge mind you, simply question in order to gain a better understanding.....

In between doing all of that, I will be transporting children to ballet and fencing classes, walking the dog, doing laundry, vacuuming...well, you get the idea, right?

There you have it. A day in the life of Jerri.

...and I laugh as I type that, because the funny thing is, this day is less exciting than most.

**mid-day update**

Oh man!

My day just gets better and better.

I walk in from the Kickoff to End Homelessness rally, and I'm greeted by a house full of teen boys all sporting AC DC t-shirts, amplifiers and guitars!

It seems that today was an early release day from our neighborhood high school and while I was away, our home became the stopping ground for a small band of teen boys, who even as I type this post, are shaking the walls with some serious head banging, mind blowing music.

Yeah baby, rock on!

There's something wild and unfettered about their playing, something raw and profoundly real that taps into my own psychedelic soul. Right now, I need their music to carry me.

Less than 30 minutes ago, we learned that my Father-in law has prostate cancer.

I'm not sure how I'm feeling about that. All around me, the music pulses and pounds and for the moment anyway, I just let the rhythms fill me up.

.....sigh.

My day isn't even half over.

God help us all.

Beauty

If you had told me 17 years ago that our oldest daughter would be entering a national beauty pageant, I would have laughed.

Pageants?

I am so NOT a pageant person. Those of you who know me, know that I am a wash and wear kind of person. I don't "do" fluff-n-stuff. My kids don't fluff either. They are wash and wear people too. If you met anyone of us on the street, you would see us as generally well kempt but very natural...no flash, no frills, just ordinary people with ordinary hair, ordinary clothes, natural nails, and unmade faces.

So imagine my surprise when my oldest daughter asked if I would accompany her to an orientation for the 2007 Nationals Pageant Competition. I almost crapped my pants. Literally.

Apparently this daughter of mine has learned that some serious college scholarship money is available through pageant competition. She wants that dough. She wants it bad. Forget about that faux diamond tiara, just give her the $25,000 cash scholarship.

Now, my oldest child is quite lovely. She's also smart, funny, and incredibly self-possessed. I am biased of course, but it is this mother's humble opinion that any pageant would be fortunate to have a young woman of her caliber in their pageant. I just can't help wondering if the pageant world is ready for her. Will they even give her a chance?

When I explained to our daughter that in order to be competitive she might need to conform to the beauty industry's standard for beauty. That would mean waxing her eyebrows, wearing foundation and false eyelashes, and learning to perch herself gracefully atop a pair of spiky high heels.

Her reply was "Why should I wax my brows? I like my brows and heels? Pfft. For $25,000, I can learn to walk in heels."

I'm actually a bit awestruck by her determination and her willingness to try something so completely foreign to all of us. There's no doubt that I intend to support her if she decides to move forward with this competition. I have also decided that I won't pressure her to be a cookie cutter pageant competitor. If she doesn't want to wax her brows, so be it.

If she doesn't want to wear those funky squishy plastic booby pusher uppers in her bra, so be it. Forget the vaseline on the teeth and the glue-on caterpillar lashes. Let her be who she is and let the chips fall where they may.

She's a winner in my book...

...and who knows, maybe the judges will see that too.

SPINAL UPDATE: It appears that our son does exhibit changes in his spine that might require treatment. We'll know more after we receive the radiologist's report and speak with our doc. Not to worry though, the changes are minor and may not even require treatment. That's our hope anyway.

Blah, blah, boring....

X-rays.

I've had more than my fair share this past year due those pesky TIA's I suffered back in January.

Today, it is my son's turn. In just a few hours, we will be heading off to have a set of spinal x-rays taken.

Last spring, during an annual sports physical the pediatrician noted abnormalities with our son's ribcage and sternum. We weren't particularly concerned then, but x-rays were taken just to rule out scoliosis. No definative diagnosis was delivered, although no evidence of scoliosis was found either.

Over the summer, our son struggled with intermittent back pain. Our doctor tells us that this could be a sign that something in the spine has changed, and thus we are making yet another visit to our local imaging consultants.

Blah, blah, blah, oh, and by the way, our washing machine is broken too, blah, blah, blah.

....and I don't know why I'm boring you with all of this.

I guess I'm just worried for my son and annoyed by the death of our 17 year old washing machine.

Small potatoes compared to what some families must deal with today.

So, I'm just going to quit while I'm ahead here and say that even though I'm worried, even though I'm annoyed, I consider myself incredibly fortunate.

Today, we have food for our dinner. We have a home to rest our weary bodies; but most important of all, we have love. We have love for one another, for our God, and for our neighbors.

I can do this. I can get through this day. I can because Christ's love, which is the glue that holds all things together, will hold me together too.

In the end, love conquers all things. Nothing's too small for God. Not me, not my child nor any one of my many household appliances.

....blah, blah, blah, I'm done, blah, blah, blah, thank God, right?

Boggled

So many thoughts have rolled through my mind these past couple of weeks.

So many ideas, so many questions.....

So many feelings, so many hopes.....

So many....too many to ever really catalogue here.

That's probably a good thing. I mean after all, do you really want to hear about my struggles with continuing our family's presence in our local church? Do you really want to know my anguish and the resignation of knowing that we will never truly fit, or for that matter, be welcomed into our neighborhood's expression of the body of Christ? Our church certainly isn't interested in knowing this, why should you be?

Do you really want to hear about my Saturday? How I spent the entire day working on an annual work plan for our city's Social Services Advisory Board. Do you want to hear how my insides rolled and became agitated when the majority of our board proposed we incorporate a "measurable outcomes" clause in our contract with service providers? Does anyone really care how much I believe we will lose sight of caring for people if we become too outcome oriented?

Does anyone really care to read about one of the homeless families we know who can't seem to find adequate resources in our community to obtain glasses for their teenage son. The kid is literally blind without his specs. Our oldest daughter commented how sad it was to see this kid pressing his face up against the numbers on the doors of his classes to make sure he had the right room for class at school. Do you really want to hear how frustrating it has been for our family to continually approach churches and civic organizations for help with this need and to have them ignore our pleas?

Does anyone really want to hear how I cried as I took down the newspaper clippings of the children in need of adoption off of our refridgerater. I needed to make room for new faces. I cried for every child that hasn't found a loving home.

Does anyone really want to read about my friend who relapsed on crack and alcohol, the friend suffering from PTSD who cried at my kitchen table yesterday morning, or the hungry homeless guy I bought a burger for on Monday?

Does anyone really want to hear me recite the statistics for homelessness in my community? Do you really care that this literally breaks my heart....to see children homeless? Do you want to hear the statistics for hunger in my community, to know that our food banks are empty, that giving is down and need just keeps going up?

For the love of God, does anyone care?

Anyone?

PS~Rhetorical questions my friends, rhetorical. Please know that I value each of you reading. I also know that good things are happening all across the globe; and yes, good things are happening even in my own community. What riles me is knowing that we have the resources to end homelessness, hunger, and many, if not the majority of the social justice issues facing our world. It boggles my mind. It freaking boggles my mind.

There. I'm done. Rant over.

Bee-utiful!

Today has been a spectacularly beautiful day.

I snapped these photos and thought I'd share.

Behold! A bumble and a beauty!

Bragging Rights

Today I feel like bragging.

My middle daughter auditioned for a part in the Moscow Ballet's Great Russian Nutcracker. She was officially cast as an angel and shall be dancing alongside some of the world's premiere ballet dancers.

.....and as if things could get any better, this same daughter was also baptized this past August.

\

Ok, so I'm biased, but I have three wonderful, amazing daughters. Here's a photo of my "baby" heading off this morning to her first full day in the first grade.



Ahhhh, and lest I forget my oldest daughter, here's a photo of her clowning around with her baby sister. Clearly, she's not afraid to look silly!



My girls. My beautiful, beautiful girls.......

....how I love them.

When skewers attack!

We had a busy day this past Sunday.

Our youngest daughter was playing upstairs and stepped on a bamboo skewer. The skewer impaled her in the ball of her foot and broke off.

She, of course, became mildly hysterical when my husband tried to grab the little piece of wood that stuck up over the flesh of her foot. My husband in his wildly misguided effort to keep her calm, had her bite down on a clean hand towel while he continued to try to dislodge the skewer. This biting down caused our daughter to knock out her barely loose front top tooth, which in turn bled and added to our young daughters growing hysteria.

By now, everyone in the neighborhood could hear our child's frantic wails

At this point, my husband called for reinforcements.....which translates of course to mean me. I took one look at the situation and said, "Hmmm, I think we need a doctor."

Our daughter's foot had swollen by this time and the exposed tip of the bamboo skewer had disappeared deep into swelling. There was no way I was going to get that skewer out. We needed medical intervention.

Sooooo, off to the urgent care clinic we went.

When we arrived, we were treated fairly quickly. The doc tried everything. He used the sliver forceps, alligator clamps and even tried the skinny nosed mosquito forceps. Of course, nothing was moving the 1.5 inch skewer tip lodged in our child's foot. Noooo, that would have been too simple, now wouldn't it?

More invasive action was required. Novocaine syringes were produced and the doc proceeded to numb our child's foot. He dug around, dug around, poked and poked, but wouldn't you know it? That darn skewer tip wasn't cooperating.

Soooooo, out came another Novocaine syringe, more numbing and a small incision was made.

Finally, after an additional five minutes of digging and chasing that darn piece of wood, the doc was able to pull out the skewer from our daughter's foot.

Meanwhile, our oldest daughter was at home baking our youngest daughter the most amazing "sorry you skewered your foot" cupcakes I've ever tasted.

She even decorated the cupcakes with broken off skewers.



All's well that ends well, right?

Phew! What a day!