some things remain the same...

I had my first asthma attack at my new home.  Thanks to the theophylline for the dysautonomia, these have become uncommon to me.  However, something about forgetting to take your medication means you cannot depend on distress-free days.  And, well, spray painting primer in an enclosed space probably did not help matters much.

Bettina showed me how to set an alarm on my new iPod to ensure the door is locked at night.  Given how often I have forgotten my evening medication (including my most potent ammunition against nighttime asthma attacks), I should have already set an alarm to take the medication.  That has been remedied...now.

I risked using a second epipen instead of searching out the nearest ER.  So, two epipens and three rounds of nebulizer got this one stopped.  Being up all night meant that I missed Divine Service this morning, which is far more distressing that the struggle to breathe...now that I can again. In the moment, I am a feeble wimp about it.

I have nebulized twice thus far this day and probably will need to do so ever few hours for the next few days.  When I walked outside to fetch spare batteries from the car (I had tucked them beneath the front seat for the long drive here forgotten to bring them inside), the bitter cold set me off again.  That is not something I considered in moving here.  I suppose that means I shall be one of those funny looking people with a scarf wrapped over their mouths.

Sitting on the couch in the middle of the night, I was comforted when the birds flew down to hang out with me as I nebulized.  They have been rather silent since being banished to the bathroom while the truck was being loaded with my furniture and boxes.  Two days ago, Madeleine started singing again, though not very much.  Sam has remained silent.  Perhaps my sitting on the corner of the couch inhaling the medication was familiar enough for them to feel as if they are finally home. 

Sam, my intrepid friend, flew across the living room through the dining room into the kitchen on Thursday. The long flight shook one of his blood feathers loose.  I managed to get the bleeding stopped quickly, but the feather is lodged half in/half out.  I was advised he would take care of it in a day or so and not to worry as long as he was eating and drinking.  He was doing that, but he also wiggled his wing over and over again, fretting and moving about the top of the cage.  He scolded me something fierce about it, but I managed to trim it down to just shy of the rest of his feathers on Saturday.  Since then, he has appeared more comfortable. The silly bird does not understand that he needs to preen it out.  Maybe once he takes care of the matter and is feeling better, he will start talking again.

I suppose we are all getting used to a new home.  I am sure they enjoy the larger space at least as much as I do, for when they take off in flight they are no longer running into furniture or walls or windows.  My first real and true fire was an interest to them.  The crackling and popping had them dancing atop the cage, coming to the edge to stare at the fire and them returning to the highest perch.

I, of course, can hardly believe that I am here.  Someone told me Friday that only God knows why He brought me here, but that it was clear He did.  She told me that if He could provide such a home as this, one that is a beautiful haven and refuge of peace for me, surely He will provide a means by which I can earn a living.  A part of me thinks I should be far more worried about that.  Yet, somehow, I am not...yet.

Today, I have been thinking about forgiveness.  Oh, how I wish I could understand this better.  Someone yesterday truly troubled my waters over this.

Mana, though, gave me a bit of peace to go along with the distressing thoughts chasing themselves about my head.  She wrote that in German, the word "to believe" is not far from the word "to praise."  What she was reading made the connection between these two verbs, talking about how to have faith is to praise.  In her words, "So faith is not a work, but the praise for having received.  If I can say, 'thank you,' I have faith."

Thank you, dear Lord, for pouring out Your mercy upon this wretched sinner in such heaping measure of late. 

I  believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth.

What is meant by this Article?

I believe that God has created me and all that exists; that he hath given and still preserves to me my body and soul with all my limbs and senses, my reason and all the faculties of my mind, together with my raiment, food, home, and family, and all my property; that he daily provides me abundantly with all the nessessaries of life, protects me from all danger, and preserves me and guards me from all evil; all of which he does out of pure, paternal, and divine goodness and mercy, without any merit or worthiness in me, for all which I am in duty bound to thank, praise, serve, and obey him.  This is most certainly true.  [Luther's Small Catechism, The Evangelical Synod of Pennsylvania and Adjacent States, 1863]


Lord, I believe.  Help my unbelief!