Meet Ted, who had his orchiectomy in February 2008 and has just started chemo for a mass found on a CT.
Good luck Ted!
Friday, April 17, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
Another member of the club!
Please welcome David, from Atlanta, to the TC family! He starts 4xBEP on Monday.
Friday, February 06, 2009
Jan 09
pics taken in early Jan. He's been a bit on the move of late and I've not been able to grab a camera as often. . .
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Here's Hoping...
That you get to open some really amazing gifts this Christmas time!Merry Christmas from me and my parents!
Love,
Z
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
First Hair Cut
It was bound to happen.
It needed to happen.
I didn't want to do it.
We went to the $10 hair cut place that Frank's been going to since we moved. A nice middle eastern man name Ali (yes Ali the barber), cut Zane's angel hair locks.
It was a full on trip to the barber, wet down, cut, blow dry, even trimmers around his ears and nape of the neck. From the time stamps on my pictures it took about 20 minutes! And he was great about it!
Looking down for the bangs to be cut.
I'm not into crew cuts for my little boy. Frank sports one nowadays because chemo left his hair a different texture. I just think Z looks better with some hair, and there's a chance that his curls wouldn't all go away, which, it appears they have not!
It needed to happen.
I didn't want to do it.
We went to the $10 hair cut place that Frank's been going to since we moved. A nice middle eastern man name Ali (yes Ali the barber), cut Zane's angel hair locks.
It was a full on trip to the barber, wet down, cut, blow dry, even trimmers around his ears and nape of the neck. From the time stamps on my pictures it took about 20 minutes! And he was great about it!
The wet down.
Taking a little off the sides.
And some more.
Looking down for the bangs to be cut.
With Daddy, right after he got out of the chair.
The back after it was done.
I'm not into crew cuts for my little boy. Frank sports one nowadays because chemo left his hair a different texture. I just think Z looks better with some hair, and there's a chance that his curls wouldn't all go away, which, it appears they have not!
Monday, November 03, 2008
Halloween 2008
Taking the initiative to put together his own costume....Z, trying on mommy's shoes:
Don't worry kid, Mommy, thanks to Nana*, has got you covered.
Beware of lions lurking in tall grass...
Or crawling through their dens.
Or just sunning themselves...
Did you hear, there's a new rule in the jungle, all lions must carry a ball of some kind around at all times. (His tail swished when he walked)
Lions also have good friends in the three eyed monster and yoda categories.
Here they are all looking in the same direction! (there was a puppy dog on the loose)
Hope you had a happy Halloween.
Don't worry kid, Mommy, thanks to Nana*, has got you covered.
Beware of lions lurking in tall grass...
Or crawling through their dens.
Or just sunning themselves...
Did you hear, there's a new rule in the jungle, all lions must carry a ball of some kind around at all times. (His tail swished when he walked)
Lions also have good friends in the three eyed monster and yoda categories.
Here they are all looking in the same direction! (there was a puppy dog on the loose)
Hope you had a happy Halloween.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Why we go to church at Berry
This was read last Sunday, by the author, in our church here in Chicago. He’s a twenty something musician. It’s his response to why he’s part of Berry UMC. I asked him if I could share it b/c it touched me so as a profound reminder of how important the small church is in the world.
Here’s some background about his references to help make sense of the whole:
• Sherrie is the pastor.
• Ben is a 5 year old rambunctious boy, most often found almost tripping any number of people as he runs in and around our legs, during fellowship time. He's often chasing his twin sister or younger sister.
• Temma is the pastor’s daughter who has the capacity of about a 3 month old. She comes to church every Sunday, is wheelchair bound and 23 years old. Our sanctuary is on the 2nd floor and there is no elevator. It takes at least three strong people to carry her up and down those stairs.
Why I Go to Berry
by Matt
The first Sunday that I attended Berry around 5 years ago, the benediction was in the form of Wendell Berry’s “The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.”
I remember Sherrie’s reiteration of the final lines. “Go now… be like the fox, making more tracks then necessary, some in the wrong direction. Practice resurrection.”
At the time, I was visiting Chicago on tour, while still living in Michigan. In the interest of time, lets say that I was a hardened and withering Fundamentalist attending a 1,400 member congregation with 2 jumbo-tron screens, a neon backlit white plastic cross, and a sense that nothing could happen unless it was MASSIVELY visceral and overwhelming.
I say this, not to condemn that church or way of experiencing God, but to acknowledge the immaturity of my own perceptions and lack of engagement in that community. My judgments kept me from seeing anything through the thick “God presence” fog emanating from a hissing machine behind the plastic plants on stage. I always missed the message because I was so busy noting the production, which was so completely incredible that I was sure – through a well-timed fan letter – it would be featured on This American Life with the suggested title, “Weekly Circus: Super-sizing Sunday Service in Middle America.”
I had disengaged and to curb my frustrations, I was assuming the role of an anthropological scientist. “Just here to watch.”
It’s no surprise that the first visit to Berry was slightly alarming. Everything was completely other to me. It was small. There wasn’t a safe 400th row to bob and weave my way through toward the door. Sherrie took long, considerate breathes between thoughts, which was a revelation in itself. “She’s actually thinking as she talks.” I was in love with the unrehearsed, unpolished, and sometimes down-right raw way that things occurred. Children showing me Jesus by freely running amuck. People shared defaming prayers of joy and concern in the safety and trust of the community.
“Who will serve communion?” How about you and you? And there was communion, without spiritual hierarchy or micro-management. It made sense to me. I could not remain anonymous because this wasn’t a drive-thru window. And though I maybe thought that was what I wanted, it wasn’t. This was a meal at a small table in a friend’s home. It was honest and loving, and that was about all that it needed to be. A community of engagement.
I’ve been here ever since, and I’m a part of it simply because I love it. I see Christ in the minutia here and at times when I’m most uncertain of belief, that is exactly what I need. A still small voice. It could be Ben singing “Jesus Loves Me” or it could be a few of us and Temma making our way down the stairs.
I want to end with a quote from Nelson Algren’s Chicago: City on the Make…
Yet once you've come to be part of this particular patch, you'll never love another. Like loving a woman with a broken nose, you may well find lovelier lovelies. But never a lovely so real.
Berry: Community on the Make
Here’s some background about his references to help make sense of the whole:
• Sherrie is the pastor.
• Ben is a 5 year old rambunctious boy, most often found almost tripping any number of people as he runs in and around our legs, during fellowship time. He's often chasing his twin sister or younger sister.
• Temma is the pastor’s daughter who has the capacity of about a 3 month old. She comes to church every Sunday, is wheelchair bound and 23 years old. Our sanctuary is on the 2nd floor and there is no elevator. It takes at least three strong people to carry her up and down those stairs.
Why I Go to Berry
by Matt
The first Sunday that I attended Berry around 5 years ago, the benediction was in the form of Wendell Berry’s “The Mad Farmer Liberation Front.”
I remember Sherrie’s reiteration of the final lines. “Go now… be like the fox, making more tracks then necessary, some in the wrong direction. Practice resurrection.”
At the time, I was visiting Chicago on tour, while still living in Michigan. In the interest of time, lets say that I was a hardened and withering Fundamentalist attending a 1,400 member congregation with 2 jumbo-tron screens, a neon backlit white plastic cross, and a sense that nothing could happen unless it was MASSIVELY visceral and overwhelming.
I say this, not to condemn that church or way of experiencing God, but to acknowledge the immaturity of my own perceptions and lack of engagement in that community. My judgments kept me from seeing anything through the thick “God presence” fog emanating from a hissing machine behind the plastic plants on stage. I always missed the message because I was so busy noting the production, which was so completely incredible that I was sure – through a well-timed fan letter – it would be featured on This American Life with the suggested title, “Weekly Circus: Super-sizing Sunday Service in Middle America.”
I had disengaged and to curb my frustrations, I was assuming the role of an anthropological scientist. “Just here to watch.”
It’s no surprise that the first visit to Berry was slightly alarming. Everything was completely other to me. It was small. There wasn’t a safe 400th row to bob and weave my way through toward the door. Sherrie took long, considerate breathes between thoughts, which was a revelation in itself. “She’s actually thinking as she talks.” I was in love with the unrehearsed, unpolished, and sometimes down-right raw way that things occurred. Children showing me Jesus by freely running amuck. People shared defaming prayers of joy and concern in the safety and trust of the community.
“Who will serve communion?” How about you and you? And there was communion, without spiritual hierarchy or micro-management. It made sense to me. I could not remain anonymous because this wasn’t a drive-thru window. And though I maybe thought that was what I wanted, it wasn’t. This was a meal at a small table in a friend’s home. It was honest and loving, and that was about all that it needed to be. A community of engagement.
I’ve been here ever since, and I’m a part of it simply because I love it. I see Christ in the minutia here and at times when I’m most uncertain of belief, that is exactly what I need. A still small voice. It could be Ben singing “Jesus Loves Me” or it could be a few of us and Temma making our way down the stairs.
I want to end with a quote from Nelson Algren’s Chicago: City on the Make…
Yet once you've come to be part of this particular patch, you'll never love another. Like loving a woman with a broken nose, you may well find lovelier lovelies. But never a lovely so real.
Berry: Community on the Make
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