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Mommy, Come See!
This morning has been a simple morning. A quiet morning.
Bri, rising in the dark to work downstairs and letting me sleep in. Sweet whispers from a baby girl, “Mommy, where’s Daddy?” She hates coming in our room and missing him, so she runs downstairs to be with him and find protection from the train whose whistle blows in the distance. I roll over and can’t fall back to sleep so I read for a while.
When I come down, there is worship music filling our downstairs. Boys are still sleeping and Bella is drawing on the computer. Bri is typing furiously… so much work to do.
I fix my coffee and I curl up to catch up on blogs and news and email for the day. And I read some more, sitting with my quote book filling it with more words that speak to me.
Then, every couple minutes, she calls, “Mommy, come look at my submarine I painted!” or “Come see my silly octopus!” So I put down my computer or my book and I get up and I come.
You would think… I would think… I would tire of this. This not getting to do what I want to do without interruption.
But every time I see her face waiting for me to see, my heart melts. This light in her eyes and joy bringing her one dimple to the surface. She is waiting. Waiting to laugh and waiting for love from her Mommy.
And I delight in giving it to her. I love to show her how much she pleases me.
Then I think about my Father.
I think He’s that way, too. Delighted when we call to Him.
So often I think He must tire of me calling to Him with the same old needs, same old struggles, same old fears. Some days just calling Him to be sure He’s there–to remind myself that I believe He’s there. That is my insecurity speaking.
But He doesn’t tire of me. He comes. He joins in my life and he rejoices in me.
And He never tires of showing me how pleased He is with me.
Because I am His child. And that’s enough.
Just a few moments ago, she called me for the last time. “Come see my funny alien, Mommy!” So I stopped writing and I came, and the reward of her laughter about did me in. She rested her head on my arm and laughed her hoarse little laugh. Then she whispered, “I love you, Mommy.” And she ran off to join the commotion upstairs… boys up and singing and dancing and yelling and loud.
Oh, y’all, this is so not about me.
And I’m thankful.
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Feasting
A year ago after my first hospitalization for a skin infection in my arm, I wrote this:
John Piper said, “What choices will you make today that will give you the most pleasure a million years from now?”
I ask myself. Is what I am doing today rooted in what I will gain today? Or is it rooted in the things that will last forever?
And what does my today hold?
It’s sitting on the boys’ beds talking, reliving our days and planning tomorrow.
It’s fixing bagels for breakfast together in the kitchen.
It’s meandering through Costco on a grocery run, my Buddy’s hand in mine.
it’s dancing to Beauty and the Beast with Bella in the kitchen.
It’s comforting a teary Bear.
It’s walks through our back yard and petting the horses in our neighbors’ field.
It’s squeaky laryngitis and hacking coughs and soothing fevers and holding little ones close.
It’s capturing moments of play on camera; joining them the best way I can.
It’s bedtime prayers and morning thanksgivings.
It’s learning to have happy hearts and stop complaining, even when life is hard.
It’s Bella asking me to sing “Summertime” over and over and over through out the day. I never tire of singing it and she never tires of hearing it.
It’s teaching manners around the dinner table and eating yummy meals provided by friends.
It’s perseverance–learning that it takes practice and work to do something well.
It’s reading books together and huge eyes taking it all in.It’s the sweet harmony of Spring Break and sibling play.
It’s staying up late and sleeping in and candy treats and sunny days.
It’s failing and fighting and finding forgiveness.
It’s quiet time and nap time and time with Jesus.
It’s writing letters to our Compassion child and taping his drawing to our fridge.
It’s snuggling by a warm fire on a rainy Sunday and watching basketball together.
It’s Grandma’s visits.It’s a new Easter dress for Bella and the anticipation of the true Celebration.
It’s less Facebook time, less computer time and that wonderful feeling of being unplugged, yet beautifully plugged in to life.
These matter. They matter because even in these very temporal things, I am enjoying the treasures God has given me here on earth.
God is being glorified. And in a million years, will it matter that God was glorified in my home today?
I think the answer to that is a very resounding, “Yes.”
Yes. Yes! A very resounding, “Yes!”
This is the stuff of which life is made… the beauty of the every day ordinary and thanking Him for His abundant gifts.
“Sit. Feast on your life.” (~Derek Walcott)
I have learned that even when life is difficult, there is still so very much to feast upon.
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The Rain
The Rain
by William Henry Davies
I hear leaves drinking rain;
I hear rich leaves on top
Giving the poor beneath
Drop after drop;
‘Tis a sweet noise to hear
These green leaves drinking near.And when the Sun comes out,
After this Rain shall stop,
A wondrous Light will fill
Each dark, round drop;
I hope the Sun shines bright;
‘Twill be a lovely sight.(photo courtesy http://www.public-domain-image.com)
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I Suppose It’s Time for an Update
Honestly, I always hesitate to write these posts. Part of it is that I’m tired of writing about it, but the other part of it is that I wonder if you’re tired of reading about it. That’s my insecurity speaking. Then I hear the voice of my friend, Monica, who reminds me that I write for me, not for others. That’s part of the healing process. My writing. The catharsis of putting into words all that I am going through, learning, seeing. Reminders of ways He is working in my life, in my pain, in my world… all which are an offering to Him.
Another part of it is that you are asking. I am getting emails from people I’ve never met and friends who live miles away who are asking me how I’m doing, how my Asher is, where we are in the process. And I am blown away by this bloggy community, this internet presence that has blessed me so much. So before I write, I have to say…
Thank you. Y’all care. That is part of the healing, too.
So, with no further adieu, I give you another update… tedious for some, perhaps (but I reckon you can choose to read it or not). And with bullet points… or numbers, which is probably tedious for some of you, too, but it helps me organize my thoughts.
1. Asher. We did get his blood work back, and the good news is it’s all negative, which means nothing is showing up in his blood work. The bad news is that conditions like lupus and rheumatoid arthritis often don’t show up in blood work for years. So we are monitoring him for a few more months, and I’m tracking his fevers, aches, joint stiffness, etc. Then if it’s still acting up, we’ll be heading over the mountain to the University Hospital to see the pediatric rheumatologist. It’s all so very overwhelming right now, but he is a trooper. He amazes me with his young faith.
2. BRCA. Two weeks ago I was tested for the BRCA1 and BRCA2 gene for breast cancer to see if it’s genetic. Y’all I cannot tell you the hours I have agonized over whether or not I could pass this on to my children. Friday just before I was discharged from the hospital, my cell phone rang and I picked it up to hear the news.
It is NOT genetic! I do NOT carry the gene! And I sat on my bed and bawled, because the relief that washed over me was numbing. To know that I will not pass this monster on to my children. All I could do was whisper, “Thank you” over and over and over to Jesus. Will you whisper… or shout… it to Him, too?
3. Me. I am recovering slowly from my hospital visit, but I am recovering. The lymphedema in my arm is diminishing which makes things considerably less painful. The antibiotics I am on are making me very nauseated, so I’m on meds to combat that. The only problem is the meds make me sleepy, so I only take them if I have help with the children or it’s bedtime. I am also having dizzy spells and momentary blackouts if I’m up and around very much. All just part of recovering. Honestly, y’all, I’m really tired of recovering and I want to be recovered.
4. Mom. She deserves a whole post, and that’s coming, I’m sure. But my mom is amazing. She has enough on her plate without having all my mess. But she enters into my mess without complaining and helps me out almost every day. She is amazing. Absolutely amazing. I am beyond thankful for her.
5. Redeemer. I know I’ve said it before, so you can skip this part if you’re tired of hearing about how amazing our kids’ school is, but we are so blessed. The other parents and staff from the school have stepped up… providing meals AGAIN for us, carpooling so I don’t have to go out and drive right now, cleaning my house, taking my boys home for play dates, teachers just loving on our boys who can still be so very fragile. I even have one mom who is making sandwiches for Asher’s lunch so I don’t have to because of my nausea.
The thing is… they just do it. They step up and take over and I don’t even have to ask. This is an amazing blessing, because, honestly, y’all, when I am asked, “What do you need?” My brain doesn’t work.. I am so overwhelmed, that I don’t know how to answer. They don’t just leave me with a “Call me if you need anything.” They call me and offer to do things for which I never would have thought to ask. I’m learning from them what ministry really looks like. And I’m learning how to say, “Yes,” which is very humbling.
6. Him. I have felt very keenly my weakness, my sinfulness, my messy faith. And God continues to give me glimpses of Himself in all of this. I listen to sermons online and I hear truth that pierces my heart and oils my spiritual armor. I read the Word and pray, and although I feel distant, I keep reading and keep praying, because He will never fail to show Himself. But I am struggling.
And I am preaching to myself. If it never ends, do I believe He’s still sovereign? Jesus didn’t shed His blood for my happiness. He shed His blood to give me joy (among many other things). Those are two very different things. Reality is that no one is exempt from pain in this life. It looks different for all of us, but it’s there. Truth is, I am free from sin’s curse, even if I am never free from physical, emotional, mental pain.
“And as He stands in victory, sin’s curse has lost its grip on me.” (~Getty & Townend)
That’s the grip I’m glad is gone. The grip of pain might still be there; the effects of sin. But the victory has been won. If it is neverending in this life; it won’t be neverending in the next. It won’t be there at all.
That is JOY.
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Scary Dreams
“Mommy?” she whispered, trying to climb in our big bed.
I rolled over and pulled her in, snuggling her in between us, breathing in the scent of freshly washed hair. “Mmmmm?”
“I had a scawy dweam.”
I opened my eyes and saw her big brown ones staring at my face, desperate.
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
She nodded, pulling her Digger Dog close, “I was at chuhch (church) and I was wearing my pwetty dwess. Then I fell in the duht (dirt) and my dwess got all duhty.”
Tears filled her eyes.
“Then what happened?” I waited for the scary part.
“That’s all, Mommy. That was my scawy dweam.”
Yep. We’re raising a diva.
We’re doomed.
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Love Notes in Lunchboxes
I finally opened up Asher’s lunchbox to clean it out on Sunday (yes, you read that right… it sat for 2 days with dirty spoons and leftover food), and I found his napkin still there. Then I sat right down in the middle of the floor and wept, because my Brian had written this on Asher’s napkin: “I love you, big guy. Have a good day. Dad.”
I wept because that’s what I do every single day. I write notes on Asher’s lunch napkin and tell him I love him and that I’m praying for him and that I’m proud of him. And Brian knew. He knew how important that is to me and to Asher. And I found my hubby and I said, “Thank you.” Then I fell into his arms and cried like I thought it would never end.
I wept because God has given me an amazing man who may not keep the house picked up like I would want it to be when I’m gone, but he makes sure our children are cared for and loved.
This is the man who left work early to drive me to the hospital, make sure I was settled, advocate for me when they wanted to take blood and wouldn’t listen to my refusals, and then he kissed me goodbye so he could go take care of the kids. He found places for them to stay, fed them and jammied them, drove them where they needed to go, and then drove back to the hospital. He sat with me for two hours just to be with me, and we snuggled in my big hospital bed and shook our heads at this crazy turn of events.
This is the man who made phone calls and scheduled play dates, who picked kids up and brought them for visits, who has lived off of pizza and sandwiches and fast food for the past five days, providing for us the best he could. He has gotten kids dressed and taken them to school and church. He has taken them all to Cub Scouts events, packed lunches, and pulled Bella’s hair back in makeshift pony tails. He’s worked out in the yard and grilled steaks for Spring so we could have our traditions.
He’s done all this, yes. And so much more.
I don’t weep because of all he does, although it overwhelms me. I don’t weep because he doesn’t complain. (I’m not exaggerating here, y’all. In the past 2 1/2 years, I have never once heard him complain about our life.) I don’t weep because of the lines on his face; the fatigue that bends him over and drives him to exhaustion. They are part of the weeping to be sure.
I weep because he has never lost sight of what’s important.
He makes sure we all know how very loved we are.
I weep because of his love. For me. For the children.
I weep because he is the very picture of Christ.
I weep because in this crazy life, I see the goodness God has given me every day.
I weep because I have Brian.
The love.
And I am amazed at God’s goodness to me.
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Unexpected Turns
So today turned upside down for me.
But I don’t mind.
Because I get to go home!
The doctor was in and feels like I can do the rest of my recovery at home because of how well everything is looking. I will still be on some pretty strong meds. which will limit how much I can DO, but at least I will BE with my family.
Brian is picking up Ash from school and then coming here to take me home.
We are so thankful. Still fragile, but so thankful.
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No, It’s Not So I Can Watch Basketball All Day
That’s what our friend, Tim, accused me of when he poked his head in my hospital room yesterday, grinning, and spouting, “You did this on purpose didn’t you?” Admittedly, I had the tv on and the basketball games were playing, but trust me, I don’t plan to stay here until the April championship game!
Yes, it’s Friday and I’m still here. The redness on my rash is finally diminishing, and I’m not taking dilaudid for pain any more, just extra strength tylenol, but I am still nauseated from the antibiotics. My blood work isn’t where they want it to be, though, and I’ll see the doctor this afternoon or early evening to see where we go from here. I’d like to go home.
This morning finds me feeling much better… and cleaner. The nurse brought a bottle of baby shampoo from the peds floor so I could wash my hair in the sink, and my sheets are all fresh and clean, so I feel like a new woman. I even put some mascara on (that’s for you, Natalie!). Yesterday I had quite a few visitors which cheered me up immensely, and Sarah spent 6 hours with me. Yep. Six hours. And it still wasn’t enough time together to catch up on life and share our hearts. It was so good for my soul.
The boredom is starting to kick in. I have books and movies and journaling, but after a while this room feels really small, and the dance I have to do with the IV pole and all my tubes every time I get up is getting old. Of course I could watch Coumadin Therapy and You on channel 52 at 1:30. Oh, but wait, basketball is on.. too bad.
It is hard to be away from my family. Asher had his Cub Scouts Derby car race yesterday, and I watched through Facebook as Bri uploaded pictures of my sweet boy. I was supposed to be there, to watch, to cheer him on, to show him how proud of him I was. And we had a date to watch basketball together and see how we did with our picks. I am missing our time. And he is missing his alone time, struggling for time to read and write in his journal. Yes, my Asher is like me in so many ways.
The children are all on edge and much weepier. Bear falls apart at the drop of a hat and they are all tired of moving from place to place and home to home. I did get to snuggle with my sweet Bella for a bit this morning. Bri brought her in once he’d dropped the boys off at school and she climbed right up in bed with me. It felt so good to hold her in my arms, but it was far too short.
We are ready for this to end. I want to be outside in this gorgeous weather playing with my kids, or even just watching them play. Spring starts tomorrow and our annual grilling steaks ritual is in jeopardy, and I am all about my traditions!
It’s another letting go, holding life loosely and breathing in faith, trusting He knows best for me… for us. Honestly, I feel like my fingernails are ripping out, like the clinging is getting weaker and my grip is loosening… my grip on Him, on life, on my sanity. The fatigue overwhelms.
It is times like these that I am immensely thankful for truth… that He will never let go of me. The when I am faithless He is faithful.
He is here.
In my room.
With me.
Never leaving.
I need to know that today.
And I need to know where my nurse is… time for more tylenol… and oh, look, At Home With Lovenox is on at 11:00.
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Feels Like It Never Ends…
I’m in the hospital.
Yes.
You read that right. Here’s the short version:
Spent two days in bed.
High fever. Aches.
My arm began to get red rash all over it.
This happened last year, so I knew what was happening.
Saw doctor.
Put on oral antibiotics which I couldn’t keep down.
Am in hospital.I have a skin infection in my right arm that can’t clear up on it’s own because there is no lymphatic system to fight the infection. I am running a fever, taking IV antibiotics, and surviving on lots of nice pain meds. I was admitted yesterday and should be here for at least three days.
So that’s where I’ve been.
How I’ve been, you ask?
Discouraged is an understatement. Am breathing deep and begging for God glimpses each moment. My dear friend, Sarah once told me, “We believe His plans are perfect, but it’s okay not to understand.” I am believing… clinging to truth. I have nothing else to cling to.
I’ll update more once I know more… and once the dilauded doesn’t make my brain so fuzzy… at least I assume that’s the delaudid.
We are all so tired. So very tired of life in general right now…
And poor Brian didn’t get his Irish stew last night.
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This Day
Happy birthday to my wonderful man… my family man.May you live all the days of your life.
– Jonathan SwiftFamily Man from b on Vimeo.
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A Spring of Joy 