The Train Station...(aka The Bridal Diaries)...Back in Business.

Well, after six weeks of recuperating from my broken leg, I have returned to the bridal shop.  The ladies are glad to have me back and I am even more happy to be back with them.  I've missed being with them; missed being appreciated, accepted and called friend.

I haven't really missed working with brides though, as I found myself busy helping different brides-to-be in their quest for that one special dress.  I still haven't been able to regain that pep that I used to have when working with someone.  I find myself once again, just going through the motions of trying to sell a dress instead of focusing on making it a memorable experience for the bride.

I am working on this issue and have made strides in exceeding in customer service since I've been back.  One notable example of outstanding customer care was with a bride that I had no desire nor intention of helping at all.  I didn't really care for her or her family and when I saw her name on the schedule, I even told the ladies that I would not be dealing with her, so someone else would have to do it.

Of course, nothing ever goes as planned with me, and the bride's mom spotted me and started talking to me, and the next thing you know, I'm telling the bride that she looks lovely in her dress, and her shoes are perfect, yada yada yada. 

I found myself actually enjoying the conversation, catching up on family stuff with the mom.  Then I willinging helped them check out so they didn't have to wait for the seamstress. I gave advice about the best time to pick up the dress before the wedding.

And to top it all off, I found myself saying words that I never ever intended to say to these people:  "It was so good to see you guys today!"  Then I smiled and said something equally sweet like "take care, and congratulations!"

What in the world did I just do and say?!  I was pleasant and kind and acted like I cared.  And honestly, it wasn't all that hard to do.  I really was trying to be nice and it worked.  I think knowing that my behavior was a reflection of the shop, helped keep me in line.  Plus, I'm really more bark than bite, when it's all said and done.

When I relayed what had just transpired to the owners, one of them had said that "God was working on my heart."  They know, as well as God, that I have allowed it to become hard over the past few years. I've not only built a wall around it, I've built a tower around it, added a castle and a moat.  No one is ever going to be able to easily get to my heart again.

Although, I think being around these beautiful bridal ladies must be doing something to me.  Somehow they've managed to get me to soften up a little, thaw a little, so that God's' mighty chisel can finally start to put a dent in the wall of the tower, in the castle that I have built to protect it.

Maybe one day my heart will be out on my sleeve again, rather than in a kingdom far, far, away.

The Train Station...(aka The Bridal Diaries)...Side-lined, for now.

"Help, I've fallen and I can't get up!"  That was literally the predicament I was in three weeks ago after a dog ran full-force into my left leg, knocking me down like a bowling pin and leaving me unable to get back up.

And to top it off, I was stranded on the ground for two and a half hours until a neighbor saw me and came out to my rescue.

What started the whole ordeal was my 10 yr old yellow lab, Macguyver.  He was sniffing around in the field with his canine friend, Koho, when he spotted the vultures.  There were about 30 of them, flying low, circling slowly above the corner of the field.

Let me explain to you about "Guyver" (as we call him) and vultures.  You could be anybody; the UPS or FedEx guy, the mailman, or any stranger for that matter and he would let you come right up to the door. 

An exception has to be made for the Amish on their scooters or roller blades; he doesn't like them and will follow them out onto the road and chase them. I think he somehow knows that they are not kind to their animals, and therefore feels the need to vindicate his fellow animals.

Getting back to the vultures.  Guyver will let anyone, basically, onto our property, except for vultures.  He absolutely goes nuts when he sees them in the air.  Now we are surrounded by farmland, so there are always vultures in the air, patrolling the fields for any good pickins'.

Guyver will bark and run all around the yard, "chasing" these birds out of our air space.  He goes nuts.  I guess he feels he must protect his family and property from these creatures of the air.

And that's exactly what he did out in the field 3 weeks ago.  He started barking at the air, running after the vultures, who didn't really seem to care.  Then Koho, who thought Guyver wanted to play, got all wound up and started to run around, and in all the excitement, barrelled right into me, head-on.

Koho, probably knocked silly by the impact of his head with my knee, immediately laid down next to me.
Guyver, the nut case, still obsessed with ridding the air of these winged pests, was oblivious to the chain reaction that he had just caused.

Consumed with excruciating pain in my left knee, I went down in the grass, eyes shut tight and breath held.
I swore a little too.  I knew something was terribly wrong because I couldn't move my leg without unbearable pain.  Which meant that I couldn't get up and couldn't get help.  My daughter was in the house, but dead to the world, off in la la-land, and was of no use to me.

You see, the real problem, which everyone points out to me, was that I didn't have my cell phone.  Yes, that would have solved my dilemma. But I'm someone who doesn't live and breathe by having my phone attached to me.

I still have a flip-phone and absolutely cringe at the thought of having to get a smart-phone or any other touch screen kind of thing.  Touch screens make me think I'm ordering a sandwich at Sheetz.

Regardless of what kind of phone I like or don't like, I didn't have mine with me, and therefore, laid on the damp grass, with two dogs, for two and a half hours until I was saved by my neighbor lady.

I tried to crab-walk, drag my left leg, crab-walk my way to the house, but only made it about forty feet down the grassy slope. 

I stopped and pulled out two stakes (that were keeping newly planted trees upright)
and used my jacket to make a splint (thank God for my days at Camp Batawagama) but had to ditch the idea when I felt the pitter-patter of lightly falling drops of rain.

I remember thinking to myself, as I was unprotected from the elements now, damp and muddied by my fruitless maneuvering, "Well, this sucks."  I had to abandoned my make-shift splint and put my jacket back on.

I was able to drag myself to tree cover, only after crawling through tick and poison-ivy infested grass.  I thought to myself that after I was rescued, I was going to write to Animal Planet to try to get on that show "I Shouldn't Be Alive."  I may not have had to cut my leg off, but I did feel like I was gonna be a gonner.

And you know the whole time, being with a lab whose breed is known for service, I found myself thinking where was Lassie when you needed her? 

All I got were face sniffs and licks from two dogs who, occasionally felt the need to check on me.  They would lay down next to me off and on, before getting back up to sniff the ground, pee, and eat grass.

The one good thing about me moving to cover, was that the dogs followed, then went ahead of me.  In doing so, they were spotted by my neighbor, who was looking out her window.  She thought something might be up and was able to catch sight of me on the ground.  She came out to see if I needed help and I was saved!

And that's when the infamous words "Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!" came out of my mouth.  I knew she wouldn't have been able to help me get to the house, so I had her call 911.  I used her portable phone to call my husband. 

Knowing that crazy stuff like this always happens to me, to cause him more headaches, I just came out and told him that I was going to be going by ambulance to the ER. 

The phone cut out before I could explain what all had happened, and within about 5 minutes, old Cliffy g was there, shaking his head at me.  His boss followed behind him, to catch a glimpse of the freak show.

Good thing they came, because it took them, the neighbor lady, her daughter, and the two paramedics to push the stretcher up the wet, slick grassy slope to the ambulance.

The whole time this was going on, Guyver kept trying to jump on the stretcher with me.  He even tried to get into the ambulance, bless his heart.  He's my buddy, and I could never be mad at him for causing all this ruckus in the first place.

It turns out that my husband was home, putzin' around, at the time of my incident.  He told the ladies at the bridal shop that he actually saw me on the ground, but thought that I was picking flowers.  How perceptive.

Any way, I didn't have my cell phone, so it was all my fault, and let this be a lesson to us all.

During my trip to the ER and after x-rays of my leg, it was determined that I had a probable fracture of the bone directly below my knee.  Apparently this is not an uncommon injury that is seen in the ER.  I was given a knee immobilizer, a prescription for Vicodin and was instructed to see an orthopedist for further treatment.

The following day I saw a surgeon who called my tib/fib fracture a "crack" and told me that no surgery was required.  Then, after being wowed by all the swelling of my knee and thigh, he stuck a syringe with a very big needle into the side of my lower thigh and drained 100cc of blood out of it.

It was not the most pleasant experience of my life, but my knee sure felt better.  He told me I had to wear the immobilizer at all times and use crutches until he saw me again in 2 weeks.  I was given the OK to walk, drive and work, with some minor limitations.

So, once home, I was a captive to the family room, living out of a little suitcase my daughter packed for me, and sleeping on the couch for the next few weeks.  And of course, I was limited to sponge baths, and washing my hair in the sink.

Cliffy g did his best to keep things running normally.  He's really good at housekeeping (after all, he is German,) and he took in stride the extra duties that were required of him.

The wonderful ladies at the bridal shop came to our aide and provided delicious meals for the first week.  They sent flowers and cards, letting me know how much they missed me and that they were praying for me.

The kindness and caring acts of my bridal shop friends made me miss church.  A church that reaches out to those in need is a church that truly understands Christ's mission and purpose.  A church whose members come alongside a hurting fellow sister is a church who gets the concept of love. 

The ladies at the bridal shop get it. 

However, since I was shown more love, loyalty and compassion by two dogs than by those in my previous church, I won't be stepping foot inside any building of God, in the near future, though.

I'm thankful for the words of Paul, in Acts 17:24-25:  "The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by hands.  And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything, because he himself gives all men life and breath and everything else."

Those words really struck me about a year or so ago, when I was really really angry at the church.  When you come out of a cult-like environment, like I did, the truth of those words was the magic key that unlocked the chains of legalism in my heart and mind.

And they got me thinking that God must be way bigger than I thought he was.  And despite my feelings about church, I've haven't branded God with the same failing grade.  The ladies at the shop are helping me with that.

So, as I convalesce at home, I'm grateful for the non-seriousness of my injury, for a loving family, for caring neighbors, and loving friends.

And for a loyal, loveable and silly dog, who kept the air free of vultures, who may have mistaken me for their next meal.