Quick Update on Thailand:
Still going well. The book team has furiously written for the past week. They all get props from me, I love working with them! They write succinctly, interesting stories; I am on pins and needles for this book. The stuff they write just makes me so excited to be a part of inviting a generation to a crazy life. I’ll try and post a story of theirs in the near future. Please continue to pray for them: Scott Molgard, Linnea Molgard, Stephanie Fisk, Eric Hanson, Andrew Maas, Morgan McKeown, Erin McKenna, Annie Bower, Mallorie Miller and Jimmy McCarty. They are all rock stars in my book.
Update on Finances: Praise Jesus! He has provided enough so far, it has been astounding. I was amazed that as soon I as posted something the Lord just started providing through so many of you! People I didn’t even know read this blog have jumped on board and it is so encouraging! Old college friends, random friends of the family; it has blessed me so much. Thank you for being a part of this. I still have a bit to raise to finish out the year but the finances continue to come in and I for sure appreciate your prayers. Thank you!
And now for just a bit of humor in your day (also posted and written by my dear brother’s blog):
My mom thought he was getting old. “He’s not getting old, Karen,” my dad responded.
“Yeah,” I chimed in. “This is not an old problem.”
We all looked at our dog Whimsy as he staggered and limped around in front of us. Just the day before there was nothing out of the ordinary from our wonderful black maltepoo (maltese, poodle mix). He howled with my dad, laid on people’s feet, and ran around chasing the thrown toy. What’s a dog to do when the next day his hind legs go limp?
About three hours later as I was brushing my teeth, I heard my dad say “blah blah blah trouble,” (the brushing was so loud to my ears).
“Wha…?” I said looking at the ceiling.
“blah blah Whimsy habby blah trouble.”
I stepped outside the bathroom and looked down the hall at my dad holding Whimsy in his arms. He set the dog down in front of him. Whimsy wobbled and widened his stance, staring at the ground. Not good.
The next thing I know the whole family was all huddled around Whimsy with our hands on the dog, praying for healing. No matter how ridiculous the circumstance, prayer is the solution in the Barnes household. (My sister, Emily, prays that she would win card games.) We prayed and then called the vet.
“Dang!” I said. “Look at that fat tick on his ear.” This tick was fat, but there was one fatter than she, and on the same ear.
My mom told us to leave them on, and so we did. I thought this a ridiculous notion, but perhaps she knew something I didn’t. She came back a minute later. “The vet says she thinks Whimsy’s got tick paralysis,” she said. “The big ones are the females, and they’re the real trouble. If we take them off, the vet says he’ll be a hundred percent by the morning.”
My dad handed me the dog and started plucking. Two down and one popped. I shuttered and gagged. The nastiness ensued. Three more. I set Whimsy down as Estie snuck a thorough, but necessary, glance up the hind end. Apparently ticks like to get up there and inside the ear. Ticks are horrible creatures.
The next morning Whimsy was not a hundred percent, but he was about 75 and getting better.
