Today was to be my reset. My 'Oh my word, I've gained more weight in the last 2 weeks than I lost in 6 months, stop drinking so much soda and eating so many M&Ms, get your hind end to the gym, and RESET."
Is it age? Is it exhaustion? Is it thyroid? Nope. It's that I really, really like food. I really, really like chocolate, and I adore Coke with a twist of lemon, and let's not forget the gloriousness that is an ice cold Mt. Dew.
I bought new running shoes on Saturday, and was so excited to put them on and go for an honest run. Not a treadmill run, but a trail run, complete with headphones and quiet time, maybe some wild animals (let's skip the coyotes, though, okay?) and some good, old-fashioned sweat.
Saturday night, after a rousing bout of trivia with friends, I came home and was getting comfortable. By comfortable, I mean I was letting the girls loose. I think, as ladies, we can all agree with the sense of freedom that accompanies that point in the day when we can take off our bras and just relax, am I right? Well, I can attest that relaxed is not what I felt. One arm out of a strap, and a sharp cramp hit the muscle in my right armpit. That's correct, folks. This girl's body is so smokin' that the very pit of it catches on fire while removing an item of clothing.
Yesterday, I popped out of bed to grab something out of the bathroom, and my tailbone felt like it just popped out of place. It nearly sent me to the floor. Then later, as I was walking (not running, not doing some kind of jig, not performing a Michael Flatley routine) my left knee just went out. Now, every step I take coincides with this tweaky ligament pulling thing that makes each step feel like a marathon.
Today, my reset day, left quite a bit to be desired. No Butts & Gutz class this morning, no Zumba tonight, no trail run... but there was definitely some Peanut Butter M&Ms, Coca-Cola Life, some cheese and crackers. Sigh. Zero self-control. I have zero self-control.
Maybe tomorrow can be my reset day. You know, after the deluge of food I will inhale at MOPS, and the Minsky's that I will chase down the MOPS food with... maybe then I can start all over. You don't know.
For now, there's the remnants of a giant bag of Peanut Butter M&Ms calling my name. I'm answering them. Just today. Tomorrow is reset. I mean Wednesday. Wednesday is totally reset day.
Monday, February 23, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Grace That Pardons
I've been sitting here staring at the blinking cursor for the last hour or so. Granted, it was interspersed with a recorded episode of State of Affairs...but still. Blink, blink, blink. Tapping fingernails. What to write?
There are so many things this week that have snagged my attention for some reason or another.
Meanness.
Messiness.
New Chapters.
Doubt.
Sick Kiddos.
Answers.
Renewed faith.
More sick kiddos.
That's quite a list... yet still, I am unable (or perhaps unwilling) to pick one, and run with it.
As I read through it again, the one word resonating in my heart is grace. Grace. Grace extended. Grace received.
I could return meanness with meanness. No, seriously. I'm good at it. It is a special skill that I have finely crafted over many years. It is no doubt tempting. Some person who name-called, or called my intentions into question for no other reason than to alter someone's perception of me to suit her own purposes. I want to be mean. I'm mean in my head, as I play out potential come-backs and conversations that could take place. I know that it is a heart problem. Just the fact that I can play out the meanness in my head means my heart is not where it should be. I hear my kindergartener's voice reciting his scripture verses he's learned at school, "Keep your tongue from evil," and I'm reminded, not so gently, of how many times my tongue has been left unguarded. I extend some grace. I keep my mouth shut. Oh, so difficult for me.
Messy. Messy hearts, messy houses, messy minds. Messy kids, messy closets... dear Lord, please create in me a clean heart. Continue to extend that grace to me and all of my mess.
I'm thinking about how much we've relied on God and trusted in His goodness over the last two years, especially. I'm also pondering how it takes one little fraction of a millisecond to determine that things not happening in the time-frame we'd like them to causes that ugly doubt to raise its head. How quick we are to try to insert ourselves into a position of control. How dare we waver with uncertainty after all that we've seen? And because He is so good... more grace comes flooding in. We get answers to questions we're struggling with. We get reminders of where we've been. People are put in our paths who can testify to something amazing that He's done. The healing of an unborn child. The healing of a child whom doctors had thought was beyond hope. A renewed health after an organ transplant. A relationship saved because of a loving response. Grace.
It is bigger than my meanness. More than my fears or doubts. It can cleanse all the yuck. Clemency for so much gunk with so little return...
Let me somehow learn to extend it as willingly and as often as it has been extended to me.
Grace.
There are so many things this week that have snagged my attention for some reason or another.
Meanness.
Messiness.
New Chapters.
Doubt.
Sick Kiddos.
Answers.
Renewed faith.
More sick kiddos.
That's quite a list... yet still, I am unable (or perhaps unwilling) to pick one, and run with it.
As I read through it again, the one word resonating in my heart is grace. Grace. Grace extended. Grace received.
I could return meanness with meanness. No, seriously. I'm good at it. It is a special skill that I have finely crafted over many years. It is no doubt tempting. Some person who name-called, or called my intentions into question for no other reason than to alter someone's perception of me to suit her own purposes. I want to be mean. I'm mean in my head, as I play out potential come-backs and conversations that could take place. I know that it is a heart problem. Just the fact that I can play out the meanness in my head means my heart is not where it should be. I hear my kindergartener's voice reciting his scripture verses he's learned at school, "Keep your tongue from evil," and I'm reminded, not so gently, of how many times my tongue has been left unguarded. I extend some grace. I keep my mouth shut. Oh, so difficult for me.
Messy. Messy hearts, messy houses, messy minds. Messy kids, messy closets... dear Lord, please create in me a clean heart. Continue to extend that grace to me and all of my mess.
I'm thinking about how much we've relied on God and trusted in His goodness over the last two years, especially. I'm also pondering how it takes one little fraction of a millisecond to determine that things not happening in the time-frame we'd like them to causes that ugly doubt to raise its head. How quick we are to try to insert ourselves into a position of control. How dare we waver with uncertainty after all that we've seen? And because He is so good... more grace comes flooding in. We get answers to questions we're struggling with. We get reminders of where we've been. People are put in our paths who can testify to something amazing that He's done. The healing of an unborn child. The healing of a child whom doctors had thought was beyond hope. A renewed health after an organ transplant. A relationship saved because of a loving response. Grace.
It is bigger than my meanness. More than my fears or doubts. It can cleanse all the yuck. Clemency for so much gunk with so little return...
Let me somehow learn to extend it as willingly and as often as it has been extended to me.
Grace.
Tuesday, February 3, 2015
Milestones
Two years ago today, I arrived for my first visit to Salt Lake City, Utah. It was a most unexpected trip, and one I had no intention of making. The phone call I had received the night before, notifying me that my beloved had been paralyzed in a skiing accident, had prompted an emergency flight out at a most ungodly hour. I was hoping that the surgery they were wanting to perform would keep until I could lay eyes on him, but there was no way to know.
I left my youngest kiddos in the trusted care of family members with next to no groceries in my fridge or pantry (because people, if we ever go into survivalist mode due to some kind of alien takeover or nuclear bomb, my family will be the first to starve to death... I am the reigning champion of the 'Who Can Put Off Grocery Shopping the Longest" contest) and no access to my bank account. I had it stuck in my noggin that this whole thing would resolve itself in a couple of days, and that we would be back home no worse for wear. He kept telling me on the phone that he was starting to move his arms and that the feeling was coming back. Fluke. Had to be a fluke.
My brother-in-law picked me up at the baggage carousel and told me that my husband had been in surgery for a few hours, and that it would be a few more before he would be out. And so we waited in the surgery waiting room. A few hours later, the surgeon finally came and talked us, and I rushed to see this guy...
I expected some bumps and bruises, but the surgeon failed to tell me that laying face down on an operating table for a spinal decompression and fusion of the C3 - C6 vertebrae meant all the blood and fluid rushed to his face and made it swollen. I may or may not have had to sit behind him for a while with my head between my knees, but that's neither here nor there.
I didn't find out till a week or so ago that the paramedics were in a complete panic in the ambulance. I found out at the same time that they had already done the central line and his PIC line and had been in the ER for about 5 hours before they suggested he may "want to call his wife now." His double-digit concussion history made him think that he was going to just shake this off, and this one was just a little bit worse than before. No need to panic me several states away. [insert eye roll here]
Yesterday, as I was contemplating the two year mark of this major road diversion we took, I was flipping through Facebook posts from those first few weeks. Scriptures sent to us from sweet friends, pictures of power-chairs, and surgery incisions, the lear jet that flew us home after three long weeks in Utah... and the memories flooded over me so significantly that it took my breath away. I was overcome.
Overcome with gratitude. Overcome with wonder. Overcome with a little bit of that pesky fear that keeps poking its ugly head at me even though we have NO DOUBT that God has been all over this process from start to finish. Overcome with that ugly cry that starts deep in your soul and pinches off all the air in your lungs so that you have to gulp and swallow, all the while having tears and snot running haphazardly down your face. Overcome.
Tonight, as I'm typing this, my man is upstairs singing to our girl. Mockingbird. He took her up and put her in the tub, washed her hair, got her in her jams and is now singing her a lullaby. My heart is so full. Two years ago, he had to be moved from a bed to a power-chair using a Hoyer lift. God is so very good.
I can lay out all the physical milestones that he has achieved since the accident...recount miracle after miracle that God has performed, because they were and are plentiful. We have new ones all the time. Rather, the milestones I was thinking about today were altogether different.
We now can rely on God in a way we never really had to before, and because of all we've seen Him do over the past two years, we can trust Him in a way we didn't even know we could.
We can trust each other in a way that we've never had to trust another human since childhood. Because, you know, there are some things that can't be unseen. We've seen each other at our most vulnerable, and lived to tell the tale. We have laughed about things that other people would not find funny. You've never really giggled until you've laughed about bowel care or urinal mishaps. Your spouse may have never considered you a tantrum thrower until he saw you literally sitting on the floor kicking your feet and crying over a pair of stupid TED hose. (Those things are straight from Lucifer himself, by the way.) Seeing each other at your weakest creates a whole new level of intimacy. The mere fact that we went from spending a bit of time together each week after travel and work, to spending twenty-four * seven with each other and no one has been maimed or killed speaks volumes, I think.
We have gained friendships, built relationships that we value with people we had only cursory associations with before...people we now have deep affection for.
We have compassion for people that we hadn't experienced before. Empathy for those who have any kind of difference or disability.
Those are the good milestones... the ones that will stick to the walls of my heart, the ones that matter. The rest of it... that's just the gravy. Or the chocolate. Let's call it chocolate... because you know...chocolate.
I left my youngest kiddos in the trusted care of family members with next to no groceries in my fridge or pantry (because people, if we ever go into survivalist mode due to some kind of alien takeover or nuclear bomb, my family will be the first to starve to death... I am the reigning champion of the 'Who Can Put Off Grocery Shopping the Longest" contest) and no access to my bank account. I had it stuck in my noggin that this whole thing would resolve itself in a couple of days, and that we would be back home no worse for wear. He kept telling me on the phone that he was starting to move his arms and that the feeling was coming back. Fluke. Had to be a fluke.
My brother-in-law picked me up at the baggage carousel and told me that my husband had been in surgery for a few hours, and that it would be a few more before he would be out. And so we waited in the surgery waiting room. A few hours later, the surgeon finally came and talked us, and I rushed to see this guy...
I expected some bumps and bruises, but the surgeon failed to tell me that laying face down on an operating table for a spinal decompression and fusion of the C3 - C6 vertebrae meant all the blood and fluid rushed to his face and made it swollen. I may or may not have had to sit behind him for a while with my head between my knees, but that's neither here nor there.
I didn't find out till a week or so ago that the paramedics were in a complete panic in the ambulance. I found out at the same time that they had already done the central line and his PIC line and had been in the ER for about 5 hours before they suggested he may "want to call his wife now." His double-digit concussion history made him think that he was going to just shake this off, and this one was just a little bit worse than before. No need to panic me several states away. [insert eye roll here]
Yesterday, as I was contemplating the two year mark of this major road diversion we took, I was flipping through Facebook posts from those first few weeks. Scriptures sent to us from sweet friends, pictures of power-chairs, and surgery incisions, the lear jet that flew us home after three long weeks in Utah... and the memories flooded over me so significantly that it took my breath away. I was overcome.
Overcome with gratitude. Overcome with wonder. Overcome with a little bit of that pesky fear that keeps poking its ugly head at me even though we have NO DOUBT that God has been all over this process from start to finish. Overcome with that ugly cry that starts deep in your soul and pinches off all the air in your lungs so that you have to gulp and swallow, all the while having tears and snot running haphazardly down your face. Overcome.
Tonight, as I'm typing this, my man is upstairs singing to our girl. Mockingbird. He took her up and put her in the tub, washed her hair, got her in her jams and is now singing her a lullaby. My heart is so full. Two years ago, he had to be moved from a bed to a power-chair using a Hoyer lift. God is so very good.
I can lay out all the physical milestones that he has achieved since the accident...recount miracle after miracle that God has performed, because they were and are plentiful. We have new ones all the time. Rather, the milestones I was thinking about today were altogether different.
We now can rely on God in a way we never really had to before, and because of all we've seen Him do over the past two years, we can trust Him in a way we didn't even know we could.
We can trust each other in a way that we've never had to trust another human since childhood. Because, you know, there are some things that can't be unseen. We've seen each other at our most vulnerable, and lived to tell the tale. We have laughed about things that other people would not find funny. You've never really giggled until you've laughed about bowel care or urinal mishaps. Your spouse may have never considered you a tantrum thrower until he saw you literally sitting on the floor kicking your feet and crying over a pair of stupid TED hose. (Those things are straight from Lucifer himself, by the way.) Seeing each other at your weakest creates a whole new level of intimacy. The mere fact that we went from spending a bit of time together each week after travel and work, to spending twenty-four * seven with each other and no one has been maimed or killed speaks volumes, I think.
We have gained friendships, built relationships that we value with people we had only cursory associations with before...people we now have deep affection for.
We have compassion for people that we hadn't experienced before. Empathy for those who have any kind of difference or disability.
Those are the good milestones... the ones that will stick to the walls of my heart, the ones that matter. The rest of it... that's just the gravy. Or the chocolate. Let's call it chocolate... because you know...chocolate.
Friday, January 30, 2015
Title Track
You wanna know what happens when you have a billion things that you'd like to write about, and your internet goes out for 6 days? Everything. That's what. More things than you can shake a stick at.
Maybe you have to spend 5+ hours talking to people at your ISP who were incapable of assisting you. In fairness, that was the first 3 1/2 hours. The last hour and 45 minutes were with a gentleman who didn't make me threaten to drive to his office and snap him like a twig. Shane 'I'm not the supervisor you asked for 10 times, but I'm a genius and can handle any problem you can have' needs to watch his back, however.
Maybe you have an almost threenager who refuses to stay in her own bed for the duration of the night. Maybe she will randomly appear anywhere from 2:30 am to 6 am and insist that she needs you. Perhaps she will go back to her own bed if you carry her there like a baby, sing two songs of her choice, kiss her, hug her, hug her again with a squeeeeeeeze, throw each other imaginary presents that she pretend puts down her shirt, and make sure she has Delilah. No, not Delilah, Cocoa. No, not Cocoa, Rosie. No, not Rosie, but Delilah AND Cocoa. Rosie needs to go back to her cradle. No, she can't just lay down on the floor. No, she can't be placed gently on the dresser. The cradle. The cradle. The cradle. Make sure that Cocoa and Delilah are covered up with the blankets and on the pillows, especially so that in an hour or less, they can be abandoned when said threenager shows up in your bed again.
Maybe your 5 year old son surreptitiously advises you that his daddy was married to someone else before you... in case you didn't know. Maybe when you inform him that you, too, had been married before Daddy, he will gasp and shake his head in complete disgust. He may potentially then point out that if Daddy goes to heaven to be with Jesus, that you will be a widow. But not a black widow. Because they're spiders.
Perchance your sweet husband, who has dealt with a severe spinal cord injury for almost two years, will trip over a rug in the basement and face-plant hard enough to have a golf ball sized knot on his forehead and develop numbness and tingling in his arm. To be safe, you may take your man to the emergency room and get him a CT scan which will lead to the discovery of a broken vertebrae one vertebrae down from his original injury, and a broken nose. Maybe.
It's also possible that while you're in the ER, you run into the nurse who pretty much saved your life during a miscarriage 4 and a half years ago. You could recognize him right away as the man who helped get you out of the car when you stupidly drove yourself into the ambulance bay as you lost over half your body's blood volume. You could spend a significant period of time thanking him for the care he gave you, all the while getting a level of comfort and closure you didn't know you still needed.
Maybe when you're taking your kid to school and internally raging at the fact that you are once again late, late, late getting out of the house, you come upon a truly awful wreck at the intersection that you would have likely been going through at the time of the accident if you hadn't been a little tardy.
Maybe when you sit down at your laptop, finally able to access the internet and write, you'll recognize that in the midst of chaos, God can still offer you peace. Maybe you'll grasp that your story is more than turmoil. Maybe you'll know that God has a plan...one that isn't on your schedule, that isn't the way you may do it (thank heavens), that has divine orchestration and is what is ultimately going to bring Him glory no matter what you do to try and screw it up. Maybe you were late so you weren't hurt in an accident. Maybe your husband was hurt so you could get in touch with someone who will end up helping with issues he's struggled with in his recovery. Maybe you were at that ER at that time, so you could heal a little part of you that still was scabbed over. Maybe when you thanked that nurse, he needed it more than you did. Maybe. Maybe you'll never know. Maybe you don't need to, as long as you gain some insight, or get a reminder of the great God that you serve.
Maybe you have to spend 5+ hours talking to people at your ISP who were incapable of assisting you. In fairness, that was the first 3 1/2 hours. The last hour and 45 minutes were with a gentleman who didn't make me threaten to drive to his office and snap him like a twig. Shane 'I'm not the supervisor you asked for 10 times, but I'm a genius and can handle any problem you can have' needs to watch his back, however.
Maybe you have an almost threenager who refuses to stay in her own bed for the duration of the night. Maybe she will randomly appear anywhere from 2:30 am to 6 am and insist that she needs you. Perhaps she will go back to her own bed if you carry her there like a baby, sing two songs of her choice, kiss her, hug her, hug her again with a squeeeeeeeze, throw each other imaginary presents that she pretend puts down her shirt, and make sure she has Delilah. No, not Delilah, Cocoa. No, not Cocoa, Rosie. No, not Rosie, but Delilah AND Cocoa. Rosie needs to go back to her cradle. No, she can't just lay down on the floor. No, she can't be placed gently on the dresser. The cradle. The cradle. The cradle. Make sure that Cocoa and Delilah are covered up with the blankets and on the pillows, especially so that in an hour or less, they can be abandoned when said threenager shows up in your bed again.
Maybe your 5 year old son surreptitiously advises you that his daddy was married to someone else before you... in case you didn't know. Maybe when you inform him that you, too, had been married before Daddy, he will gasp and shake his head in complete disgust. He may potentially then point out that if Daddy goes to heaven to be with Jesus, that you will be a widow. But not a black widow. Because they're spiders.
Perchance your sweet husband, who has dealt with a severe spinal cord injury for almost two years, will trip over a rug in the basement and face-plant hard enough to have a golf ball sized knot on his forehead and develop numbness and tingling in his arm. To be safe, you may take your man to the emergency room and get him a CT scan which will lead to the discovery of a broken vertebrae one vertebrae down from his original injury, and a broken nose. Maybe.
It's also possible that while you're in the ER, you run into the nurse who pretty much saved your life during a miscarriage 4 and a half years ago. You could recognize him right away as the man who helped get you out of the car when you stupidly drove yourself into the ambulance bay as you lost over half your body's blood volume. You could spend a significant period of time thanking him for the care he gave you, all the while getting a level of comfort and closure you didn't know you still needed.
Maybe when you're taking your kid to school and internally raging at the fact that you are once again late, late, late getting out of the house, you come upon a truly awful wreck at the intersection that you would have likely been going through at the time of the accident if you hadn't been a little tardy.
Maybe when you sit down at your laptop, finally able to access the internet and write, you'll recognize that in the midst of chaos, God can still offer you peace. Maybe you'll grasp that your story is more than turmoil. Maybe you'll know that God has a plan...one that isn't on your schedule, that isn't the way you may do it (thank heavens), that has divine orchestration and is what is ultimately going to bring Him glory no matter what you do to try and screw it up. Maybe you were late so you weren't hurt in an accident. Maybe your husband was hurt so you could get in touch with someone who will end up helping with issues he's struggled with in his recovery. Maybe you were at that ER at that time, so you could heal a little part of you that still was scabbed over. Maybe when you thanked that nurse, he needed it more than you did. Maybe. Maybe you'll never know. Maybe you don't need to, as long as you gain some insight, or get a reminder of the great God that you serve.
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
New Things
Apparently, my fitness level is equivalent to that of a ninety year old hippopotamus. I thought that running (even though I had gotten off track during the holidays) and some periodic free weights was at least sufficient to get me through one fitness class at my gym. I was mistaken. I wasn't just a little wrong, either. I was perfectly, totally, and completely incorrect.
My good friend suggested that we take a "Butts & Gutz" class at our local community center. Fun, right? Within 10 minutes of the class starting, I knew that I was ill-prepared for what was occurring. Squat repeatedly while holding weights you say? Faster? Sorry, but I've clearly been mistaken for one who actually possesses functional quadriceps. I am not.
Fifty minutes of somewhat keeping up with the instructor (and I use the term 'somewhat' VERY loosely) and I was pretty convinced that my death was imminent. As I headed down the steps to the locker room, my Jell-O legs were barely able to make it from stair to stair. I was tempted to sit down and scoot, and I may have actually tried to do such a thing, had it not been for the fact that I wasn't certain I would be able to get from the bottom step to an upright position without assistance.
The following day I could barely get out of bed. Walking around seemed to help, at least until I paused for any length of time. Sitting in a chair? Ha! To all appearances, you should be able to lower yourself in a chair rather easily. If, however, your quads, hamstrings, AND glutes are all rebelling against you, sitting should be avoided.
We are now at two days out, and the same good friend and I had the audacity to go to a Pilates class and then follow that up with a short run. My muscles were a little more loose, and that lasted for exactly 2 minutes post-run. In the mean time, I nearly rolled myself into a concussion on the large exercise ball, and laughed so hard attempting to do 'push-ups' with the ball underneath my hips that I could hardly even stay on the crazy thing. Entertaining, for sure. I'm pretty sure I made the other first-timers in class look totally fantastic... so you're welcome, ladies!
Perhaps we may try for a little Yoga Flow class tomorrow night. We shall see. I'll bet I'll make the people in that class look like the coolest, most Zen people on the planet.
My hope is that one day, my quadriceps may actually function. Perhaps I'll even have a couple of working hamstrings. You can't be too sure about these things, but I'm hopeful all the same.
Now if it's all the same to you, I think I need a nap.
My good friend suggested that we take a "Butts & Gutz" class at our local community center. Fun, right? Within 10 minutes of the class starting, I knew that I was ill-prepared for what was occurring. Squat repeatedly while holding weights you say? Faster? Sorry, but I've clearly been mistaken for one who actually possesses functional quadriceps. I am not.
Fifty minutes of somewhat keeping up with the instructor (and I use the term 'somewhat' VERY loosely) and I was pretty convinced that my death was imminent. As I headed down the steps to the locker room, my Jell-O legs were barely able to make it from stair to stair. I was tempted to sit down and scoot, and I may have actually tried to do such a thing, had it not been for the fact that I wasn't certain I would be able to get from the bottom step to an upright position without assistance.
The following day I could barely get out of bed. Walking around seemed to help, at least until I paused for any length of time. Sitting in a chair? Ha! To all appearances, you should be able to lower yourself in a chair rather easily. If, however, your quads, hamstrings, AND glutes are all rebelling against you, sitting should be avoided.
We are now at two days out, and the same good friend and I had the audacity to go to a Pilates class and then follow that up with a short run. My muscles were a little more loose, and that lasted for exactly 2 minutes post-run. In the mean time, I nearly rolled myself into a concussion on the large exercise ball, and laughed so hard attempting to do 'push-ups' with the ball underneath my hips that I could hardly even stay on the crazy thing. Entertaining, for sure. I'm pretty sure I made the other first-timers in class look totally fantastic... so you're welcome, ladies!
Perhaps we may try for a little Yoga Flow class tomorrow night. We shall see. I'll bet I'll make the people in that class look like the coolest, most Zen people on the planet.
My hope is that one day, my quadriceps may actually function. Perhaps I'll even have a couple of working hamstrings. You can't be too sure about these things, but I'm hopeful all the same.
Now if it's all the same to you, I think I need a nap.
Wednesday, January 7, 2015
I started a new post yesterday about mean girls and bullies, but trying to get through it zapped every ounce of creativity I had, and I could not finish to save my life. It can really be boiled down to the following: Ladies, (especially those who tout theology and are Jesus followers) knock it off. Stop being unkind, mind your pie-hole, and remember that everything you say and do are being held under a microscope as an example of how Christian women behave. You never know how something that you don't think twice about saying or doing has impacted a non-believer, and often in a way you would be devastated to learn. End rant. I'll probably finish the initial post someday, but not today.
Today, I want lighthearted sweetness. I want something that can make me smile, maybe even laugh out loud. I want to feel anything but the overwhelming heaviness that often accompanies days like today, when it's icy cold and dreary outside.
On days like this, I can typically turn to one of my kazillion children for some type of amusement, because let's face it. They are a funny bunch. For instance, yesterday was our first day back to school from winter break for my precious kindergartener. He and his baby sister were in front of the TV before we left, telling each other how much they would miss one another while he was gone. Seriously. Holding hands and the whole nine. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I recalled the night before, when she took one of his toys which caused him to pop her in the back of the head and then call her a bully. I was reliving the tears streaming down her face..."Mommy, Cwosby called me a bu-wee." Insert racking sob here.
It had taken me 5 full minutes to figure out she said bully. At first, I thought he called her a boy. Big deal. I kept telling her that we all were well aware of the fact that she is ALL girl, all the time. Not to worry. This inspired deep sighs and eye rolls from my precious little princess. Her own mother can't understand English. The drama she is forced to endure because of inept parenting is too much for her.
On the ride to school, Kindergartener tells me "if you and Daddy miss me too much while I'm at school, just go into my room, and you'll remember me." Thanks, bud. I'll keep that in mind. I didn't tell him that I had every intention of doing some sort of jig when I got home. We'd been trapped in a house for 5 straight days at that point. Love ya, see ya, wouldn't want to be ya... peace out. That's not to say that I didn't have a sense of excitement picking him up and hearing about his day, but I did manage to suffer through.
Tonight, while I was preparing dinner for (let's be honest) the first time in a while... I noticed that my 16 year old had used his finger to write 'poop' on the microwave. Of course, it doesn't show up until the steam rises from the oven, so I have no idea how long it's been there. Classy.
Earlier this afternoon, after changing into pajamas for nap (yes, she has to have on pjs for nap, it is cause for annoyance, but a battle I've been giving up to maintain my sanity), my almost three year old was doing this jumping squat maneuver that I can not adequately put into words. When I furrowed my brow at her and asked what in the world she was doing, she said, "I'm getting all the pee out."
"WHAT?"
"Oh, mommy. I didn't pee in my pants," she scoffed.
What does that even mean? She didn't have any sort of accident...so... I mean... huh?
These things are what I shall focus on tonight. Kids being little weirdos that I so love. Making dinner for my family, even if the word 'poop' was on my microwave. 5 year olds telling jokes that make you want to slam your head into a door. The fact that every time I read The Hungry Caterpillar to my 2 year old and get to the part where "He wasn't a little caterpillar anymore. He was a big, fat caterpillar." she feels it necessary to say, "That's you, Mommy." Makes me want to "accidentally" knock her out of her bed. The giant brown eyes that look like chocolate pools when either one of my youngest two bat their long eyelashes and try to appear innocent.
I will not focus on the meanness, the cold, or the yuck that is on the news every day of the week. I will not focus on the fact that the two year old is literally digging her head into my hip as I try to finish this up, because I have exhausted her ability to be ignored. Just the light, the love that is in my household, and the friends that I've chatted with throughout my day. For now, that is just what I need.
Today, I want lighthearted sweetness. I want something that can make me smile, maybe even laugh out loud. I want to feel anything but the overwhelming heaviness that often accompanies days like today, when it's icy cold and dreary outside.
On days like this, I can typically turn to one of my kazillion children for some type of amusement, because let's face it. They are a funny bunch. For instance, yesterday was our first day back to school from winter break for my precious kindergartener. He and his baby sister were in front of the TV before we left, telling each other how much they would miss one another while he was gone. Seriously. Holding hands and the whole nine. My eyes rolled to the back of my head as I recalled the night before, when she took one of his toys which caused him to pop her in the back of the head and then call her a bully. I was reliving the tears streaming down her face..."Mommy, Cwosby called me a bu-wee." Insert racking sob here.
It had taken me 5 full minutes to figure out she said bully. At first, I thought he called her a boy. Big deal. I kept telling her that we all were well aware of the fact that she is ALL girl, all the time. Not to worry. This inspired deep sighs and eye rolls from my precious little princess. Her own mother can't understand English. The drama she is forced to endure because of inept parenting is too much for her.
On the ride to school, Kindergartener tells me "if you and Daddy miss me too much while I'm at school, just go into my room, and you'll remember me." Thanks, bud. I'll keep that in mind. I didn't tell him that I had every intention of doing some sort of jig when I got home. We'd been trapped in a house for 5 straight days at that point. Love ya, see ya, wouldn't want to be ya... peace out. That's not to say that I didn't have a sense of excitement picking him up and hearing about his day, but I did manage to suffer through.
Tonight, while I was preparing dinner for (let's be honest) the first time in a while... I noticed that my 16 year old had used his finger to write 'poop' on the microwave. Of course, it doesn't show up until the steam rises from the oven, so I have no idea how long it's been there. Classy.
Earlier this afternoon, after changing into pajamas for nap (yes, she has to have on pjs for nap, it is cause for annoyance, but a battle I've been giving up to maintain my sanity), my almost three year old was doing this jumping squat maneuver that I can not adequately put into words. When I furrowed my brow at her and asked what in the world she was doing, she said, "I'm getting all the pee out."
"WHAT?"
"Oh, mommy. I didn't pee in my pants," she scoffed.
What does that even mean? She didn't have any sort of accident...so... I mean... huh?
These things are what I shall focus on tonight. Kids being little weirdos that I so love. Making dinner for my family, even if the word 'poop' was on my microwave. 5 year olds telling jokes that make you want to slam your head into a door. The fact that every time I read The Hungry Caterpillar to my 2 year old and get to the part where "He wasn't a little caterpillar anymore. He was a big, fat caterpillar." she feels it necessary to say, "That's you, Mommy." Makes me want to "accidentally" knock her out of her bed. The giant brown eyes that look like chocolate pools when either one of my youngest two bat their long eyelashes and try to appear innocent.
I will not focus on the meanness, the cold, or the yuck that is on the news every day of the week. I will not focus on the fact that the two year old is literally digging her head into my hip as I try to finish this up, because I have exhausted her ability to be ignored. Just the light, the love that is in my household, and the friends that I've chatted with throughout my day. For now, that is just what I need.
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Miracles and Coincidence
I don't believe in coincidence. I used to, but that time has passed. Isn't it funny how time and specific situations can forever alter your perspective? What some call coincidence, I choose to believe is God using specific people, specific incidents, and specific timing all to achieve His greater purpose.
Example: I worked for a dear lady who has become a close friend. She witnessed the aftermath of my divorce, and knew what my hopes were for the future. She left the company we worked at, and later recommended me for a position at the company she went to. After I accepted that position, she left again (I was starting to take it personally) to work for a man that she kept insisting I meet. She pestered and cajoled, not just me, but him as well. After continuously declining, she was 'casually' mentioning that he was picking up his son for weekend visitation, and that he was also picking up his ex-wife's son from her first marriage. He had raised that child since he was two, and was maintaining visits with him as well as his biological son. Having my own children from my first marriage, that piqued my interest. At the same time, she shared something with him about me that caught his attention. We agreed to meet... and were engaged 9 months later. It could be seen as a series of coincidences, just happenstance. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God set those plans in motion.
We had some difficult decisions to make over the last year or so. There were financial limitations to some of these decisions, but after much prayer, we had to step out on faith and spend money we didn't really have. I'm talking about several thousand dollars. After much prayer and angst, we pulled money out that was earmarked for something else. Within the week, I opened a junk drawer in the kitchen that I am literally in ten times a day. I came across an envelope from our insurance company that I assumed was something we'd already dealt with electronically. I opened it to confirm, and a check for almost the same amount we'd pulled out was inside. It was over a year old, and had to be reissued from the insurance company. It was taken care of within that same week. Again... several thousand dollars. Overlooked? I don't think so. It's not like we live in a fashion that we can just not need several thousand dollars of expected income. God knew when we'd need it, what we'd need it for, and He provided.
Still not buying it? Try this on for size. My husband had a severe spinal cord injury almost two years ago. He was told he'd likely never walk again. If he did walk again, it would be 6 months before he would be able to take even 1 step. It would be exhausting, and he'd only be able to take two or three steps and then have to sleep for hours just to recuperate. At the most, he'd maybe be able to recover maybe by 80%. He would always have pain, he would always have muscle tone and spasticity, he would always need bowel care and catheters. The list goes on and on. He took his first steps 1 month and 4 days after the accident. Instead of walking a couple of steps, he walked 11 feet. He hasn't had a catheter in over a year, and his bowels require no additional care most of the time. Miracles have abounded throughout this journey.
In that vein, here's another 'coincidence' for you. We have a dear friend that we got to know better during Bob's initial recovery. She and her sweet husband helped us tremendously. They followed our story, they prayed over us, they even did our laundry, and managed some very personal care for Bob while I had to be away. Somewhere along the way, they made friends with a couple in Florida. I don't know their whole story, but I don't believe they share our faith. A couple of weeks ago, their son had a diving accident in Miami, and suffered a spinal cord injury. He's at the beginning of this journey, and from personal experience, I can tell you it's a scary road. Doctors aren't always people of faith. Typically the opposite, as they breathe science day in and day out. The spinal cord and brain are so crazy complicated, that even the specialists will tell you that they never know exactly what to expect. We have experienced more than once the condescending pat on the head when explaining that we have experienced new functionality after intense bouts of nerve pain. When we tell them symptoms we believe are healing, they let us know that it is likely symptoms of a plateau in recovery. They don't always offer hope. Contrarily, they are trained to prepare you for the worst. Because our friend has seen my husband's healing process, she has been able to relate example after example of positive results from devastating circumstances. Is it a coincidence that she began a relationship with this woman when she did? Is it just by chance that she's been able to offer hope, share her faith and love on this family? I don't believe it is.
Over the last couple of months, my husband has had some nearly unbearable pain. He has struggled with functionality, and that can be disheartening. We were able to remove one medication that has turned that around, for the most part. Still, he's had horrible arm pain on his weak side. (His injury impacted his right side more than his left). Last night, he came home and said that there was a wave of electricity that was washing over that right arm. It was painful, traveling down from underneath his shoulder and into his fingers connected to the ulnar nerve. He was excited, knowing that new abilities may be around the corner. I can assure you that his physiatrist would look at us while shaking his head and patting our hands. He would tell us that we could believe whatever we need to in order to get through this. An hour later, my husband pinched me hard with his right hand. The hand that he could barely grip with a day ago, snatched ahold of my arm with some vigor.
God is in every detail. He performs miracles every day. You can choose to see them for what they are, or you can choose to call it coincidence. Personally, I think it takes more faith to believe in coincidence than in Him. What about you?
Example: I worked for a dear lady who has become a close friend. She witnessed the aftermath of my divorce, and knew what my hopes were for the future. She left the company we worked at, and later recommended me for a position at the company she went to. After I accepted that position, she left again (I was starting to take it personally) to work for a man that she kept insisting I meet. She pestered and cajoled, not just me, but him as well. After continuously declining, she was 'casually' mentioning that he was picking up his son for weekend visitation, and that he was also picking up his ex-wife's son from her first marriage. He had raised that child since he was two, and was maintaining visits with him as well as his biological son. Having my own children from my first marriage, that piqued my interest. At the same time, she shared something with him about me that caught his attention. We agreed to meet... and were engaged 9 months later. It could be seen as a series of coincidences, just happenstance. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God set those plans in motion.
We had some difficult decisions to make over the last year or so. There were financial limitations to some of these decisions, but after much prayer, we had to step out on faith and spend money we didn't really have. I'm talking about several thousand dollars. After much prayer and angst, we pulled money out that was earmarked for something else. Within the week, I opened a junk drawer in the kitchen that I am literally in ten times a day. I came across an envelope from our insurance company that I assumed was something we'd already dealt with electronically. I opened it to confirm, and a check for almost the same amount we'd pulled out was inside. It was over a year old, and had to be reissued from the insurance company. It was taken care of within that same week. Again... several thousand dollars. Overlooked? I don't think so. It's not like we live in a fashion that we can just not need several thousand dollars of expected income. God knew when we'd need it, what we'd need it for, and He provided.
Still not buying it? Try this on for size. My husband had a severe spinal cord injury almost two years ago. He was told he'd likely never walk again. If he did walk again, it would be 6 months before he would be able to take even 1 step. It would be exhausting, and he'd only be able to take two or three steps and then have to sleep for hours just to recuperate. At the most, he'd maybe be able to recover maybe by 80%. He would always have pain, he would always have muscle tone and spasticity, he would always need bowel care and catheters. The list goes on and on. He took his first steps 1 month and 4 days after the accident. Instead of walking a couple of steps, he walked 11 feet. He hasn't had a catheter in over a year, and his bowels require no additional care most of the time. Miracles have abounded throughout this journey.
In that vein, here's another 'coincidence' for you. We have a dear friend that we got to know better during Bob's initial recovery. She and her sweet husband helped us tremendously. They followed our story, they prayed over us, they even did our laundry, and managed some very personal care for Bob while I had to be away. Somewhere along the way, they made friends with a couple in Florida. I don't know their whole story, but I don't believe they share our faith. A couple of weeks ago, their son had a diving accident in Miami, and suffered a spinal cord injury. He's at the beginning of this journey, and from personal experience, I can tell you it's a scary road. Doctors aren't always people of faith. Typically the opposite, as they breathe science day in and day out. The spinal cord and brain are so crazy complicated, that even the specialists will tell you that they never know exactly what to expect. We have experienced more than once the condescending pat on the head when explaining that we have experienced new functionality after intense bouts of nerve pain. When we tell them symptoms we believe are healing, they let us know that it is likely symptoms of a plateau in recovery. They don't always offer hope. Contrarily, they are trained to prepare you for the worst. Because our friend has seen my husband's healing process, she has been able to relate example after example of positive results from devastating circumstances. Is it a coincidence that she began a relationship with this woman when she did? Is it just by chance that she's been able to offer hope, share her faith and love on this family? I don't believe it is.
Over the last couple of months, my husband has had some nearly unbearable pain. He has struggled with functionality, and that can be disheartening. We were able to remove one medication that has turned that around, for the most part. Still, he's had horrible arm pain on his weak side. (His injury impacted his right side more than his left). Last night, he came home and said that there was a wave of electricity that was washing over that right arm. It was painful, traveling down from underneath his shoulder and into his fingers connected to the ulnar nerve. He was excited, knowing that new abilities may be around the corner. I can assure you that his physiatrist would look at us while shaking his head and patting our hands. He would tell us that we could believe whatever we need to in order to get through this. An hour later, my husband pinched me hard with his right hand. The hand that he could barely grip with a day ago, snatched ahold of my arm with some vigor.
God is in every detail. He performs miracles every day. You can choose to see them for what they are, or you can choose to call it coincidence. Personally, I think it takes more faith to believe in coincidence than in Him. What about you?
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