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Date Posted: 17:49:28 02/19/08 Tue
Author: jenny wren
Subject: Re: biography of Jenny wren
In reply to: jenny wren 's message, "biography of Jenny wren" on 17:45:54 02/19/08 Tue

>chapter 1-Biography my whole life Lead [-]
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>Biography
>Lois Virginia Rice was born May 21, 1930 in White
>County, Tennessee, number 12 of the children of Matt
>and Arizona Rice. I had a pretty normal childhood.
>Then puberty set in and all hell broke loose in my
>life. I loved school but at the age of ten or eleven I
>developed epilepsy, and each month I suffered
>grand-mal-seizures. Each seizure would clearly wipe my
>memory, totally blank, taking my past life out, each
>month. It was as if I was having shock treatments. In
>fact, it was a never-ending 'learning process' all
>over again, each month.
>
>Just when I felt I could start to really learn, and do
>pretty well at it, the dreaded seizures would show up
>again, I was mocked in school, made to feel like a
>third class citizen, and never got good grades. To get
>a 'C' was to me an 'A'. I would be so glad to have a
>somewhat normal grade.
>
>I was knocked back into the world of not having any
>control, over and over again; so many times I lost
>count. This body that God has given to me, so uniquely
>made, was given to me to last for a whole life time.
>
>Finally, at age 15, I finished the eighth grade, and
>by my sixteenth birthday, I was married and moved out
>on my own, with no knowledge of what married life
>entailed., I had never known a man or had never had a
>kiss from someone other family, in my young life,. I
>had a seizure when I met Cager Howard, my future
>Husband, at a ball game. He asked for permission and
>had taken me for a real date (my very first). Wouldn't
>you know it? When it was time for my fist date I had a
>seizure. I awoke at my home. There sat Cager on the
>side of my bed with me, He was holding a wet
>wash-cloth to my forehead. I cried so hard, I wanted
>to die rather than face him after having a seizure. I
>felt as if I had embarrassed him in front of his
>friends. But why was he still sitting there? He was
>caring for me as if he truly cared if I lived or died.
>I thought to myself, I will just close my eyes and die
>right here and get it over with. I was praying for God
>to go ahead and just kill me now. But Cager must have
>known what I was feeling.
>He said in a scolding manner, "Girl there is something
>'wrong' with each person in this whole world and do
>you know what?'
>"What?" I sobbed. He finished up his sentence "I think
>I love you." and he smiled like the angel that he was
>to me and then he cried along with me. Then he said
>"Sleep for a little while. I will sit right here
>beside you. You are going to be just fine. Yes, you
>will be alright," All I could do was cry at the pure
>love being lavished upon this young girl by this
>handsome 28 years old veteran that had just come home
>from world war 2. Needless to say, I knew I loved Him
>as I had never felt for another person in the world
>like I did at that moment. We married within three
>months. (I was still a virgin,) I had a youth to be
>remembered (what I could recall of it). This was when
>I was taught me to treat people 'right', to try and
>see 'their point of view on matters', to try to
>'understand them, and to 'show agape love for one and
>all' as a Christian is supposed to do. You will indeed
>know Christians by the Love they show to one another.
>Cager made me take responsibility, and to live my life
>in spite of the seizures. He trusted me to do my own
>thing in life. He loved to hear my writings and was
>not ashamed to have manly feelings which included
>being able to cry at wrongdoings.
>I thank God for having Cager there to love. He was
>just what I needed. He made me feel as a 'whole'
>woman, not an inferior product. He helped me have the
>courage to dive into anything I wanted to try, and
>should failure come he never blamed me, for I was not
>afraid to try doing as I pleased.
>I grew up fast with him at the helm of our ship of
>life. He was and still is at the helm. (The memory of
>him is still a treasure to me.) We had 39 years of
>marriage before he died with lung trouble. He was sick
>for over twenty years, but God was there and helped me
>through losing him to death.
>Part II - Thank God for Arms
>
>
>Being born without arm sockets is a horrible
>happening, I thought I was double jointed, but I was
>'no jointed!' Dislocations started as I had my second
>child, Freda, in 1951. My dislocations happened real
>frequently, and it became a way of life. Finally, in
>1963 my dad had a stroke and since I was a nurse's
>aid, I put that training to good use.
>One night I went to sleep with my arm up above my head
>and it slipped out of place and the main bone slid
>down under the skin beside my right breast. I woke up
>and there lay my bone. I felt it near my waist under
>the skin,
>I thought "Well… old Jenny gal, what do we do now? God
>please, show me." I heard myself telling Momma to
>"roll out the bed" (it had those little wheels that
>made an antique iron bed roll to move easily). Momma
>woke up and saw me. She almost flipped. "What can I
>do," she was crying. You see my hand, which was now
>all a-tremble, was sticking out between the iron
>bars,)
>"Go get the rolling pin and come back and pull my arm
>up, even, to where it goes." She did, as I instructed.
>I tried to keep calm and relaxed, as much as possible,
>Mom did what I said and we did it - we gradually
>worked the bone up to shoulder side by side, and
>slowly took the hand forward, and then lay it gently
>beside my body the right way, and then placed the
>rolling pin there to pry it with into place. During
>this time Momma was crying,"I cannot do it!" I gritted
>my teeth at her and talked as calmly as possible. "Do
>it now!" I ordered. She did. We worked it down and it
>suddenly sprung over to where it was near the place it
>should be. There I lay, quivering as usual. But I have
>never experienced such pain. That was the last time my
>arm came out. When I returned to Chicago with my arm
>in a sling to hold it on my body, there was a doctor
>who was visiting the Hammond Indiana hospital from
>Germany. He was a famous doctor named Mintz, who just
>happened to be visiting and he did the surgery with a
>gallery of Doctors watching.
>.I heard later that he was beauty in motion, doing
>that surgery. When I woke, I felt like a Mack truck
>was resting on my arm after skidding the tires and
>coming to rest right there on my shoulder.
>Oh my, such agony for almost six months. My arm was
>pinned together and nesting right under my right
>breast in a tight sling day and night, but finally -
>praise the Lord - the thing healed. Now it was
>restricted, but movable.
>It was my right arm (I am left handed), so I was able
>to still write and still work a little around the
>house. The children helped me so much. Later the
>doctor told me he did the surgery on the right arm. He
>asked whether, if I had it to do all over, I would
>have just taken it off. Then he said "The bone was too
>little to place a pen in, to put the muscles and
>ligaments on.
>Through what bone was left, he drilled a hole and tied
>ligaments and muscles to draw up the muscular system
>and it has remained restricted for the rest of my
>life, But - praise God - that booger has not
>dislocated anymore, except for one time when it came
>out on the back side, where he had transferred a
>muscle from my spine to use as a bicep muscle, but it
>slid right back. That truly scared me. Then, two years
>later, I had three seizures in a row and awoke with
>the left arm out of socket place, and I just cried
>until I decided "there were no more tears left in the
>whole wide world to cry." (We lived in Florida then
>and I had surgery on the other arm.) This is the first
>time I have written about and the memory is still so
>fresh in my mind. That is why I can pray for someone
>who has a dislocation, and get to God's ear right
>away, because I can still feel the agony of going
>through that pain. God bless you and take care of your
>precious arms. Look down at them now and praise God.
>If you have them now, raise them both and praise God
>with them. One day I will be able to do that. When you
>get to heaven and you look over the crowd, and you see
>hands in the air, they will be mine, in praise. Now
>look down at your arms as you write or move and just
>praise him for these extremities. I have to lay mine
>on the desk to even type, but praise God, I can fly,
>mistakes and all. They are at the right level to type
>and even play the piano. Love,
>jenny wren.

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