It happens in most every family. The first child heading of to their first day of school. In and of itself it's pretty repetitive. All the pictures, teary (or exuberant) mommies and daddies waving goodbye to their not-so-little children. Well, this is my tale.
It didn't go exactly as planned. Life would be boring otherwise, right? We saw Tobin off with the usual pictures, hugs, misgivings about whether or not school would chew up and spit out my child. At least HE was excited. I was too, truthfully. I even managed to get in a run this morning but it was more for my nerves than anything. Made a big breakfast that I'm sure I won't be able to keep doing every day. Cooking while you're sleepy is hard!
After we waved him off, Coen was sulky for much of the morning but we managed to check Tobin's school schedule and do something similar at home to pass the time and fill in the quiet space left behind by big brother. Pretty smooth sailing for the rest of the day. Then around 2:30 I started to look at the clock about every ten minutes. Tobin's bus wouldn't be here till around four so occupying myself took some doing. We made snack mix and "healthy" cookies. I'd like my butter and sugar back, thank you very much. Most of the cookies had to be scrubbed off the pan into the garbage disposal anyway.
Finally none of us could take it anymore. After the fifth "When is Tobin coming home?", I decided it was time to head out and get the mail and play. The kids made a beeline for the bus stop after we got the mail so we ended up hanging out for half an hour. Then the questions began again as 3:45 came and went. And then 4:00 came and went. Other parents were wondering, too. Lots of pacing, bouncing on tiptoes and trying to see just a little farther down the street.
I have seen many beautiful things in this world. Chocolate. Bacon. My husband waiting at the altar for me and each arrival of my three children. Seeing that bus make it's appearance at the top of the hill fits into that category. I'm a little ashamed to say that I almost ran to the edge of the grass without a thought of my other two children. I wanted him off that bus and in my arms, pronto!
We stood on our side of the street while the bus driver let out the stop sign and put down the crossing bar. Coen and Aria were yelling his name even though they couldn't see him yet. I watched as one by one, each child came around the front of the bus and ran across the street. I kept checking the traffic to see if some idiot was going to try and run the stop light. My head was on a swivel what with watching left and right and not wanting to miss Tobin crossing the street right in front of me.As every child bounded towards their mom and dad, my brain checked them off. Not Tobin, not Tobin, nope, not Tobin. One of the other moms had brought her phone to video tape her sons getting off the bus for the first day of school in a new town. Why didn't I think of that?
And then I saw the bus door close. And he folded up the stop sign. Before I knew it, I was hearing the sound of the driver letting off the brakes. But I did not have Tobin.
None of the cars had moved yet so I waved my hands in the air and yelled for him to stop. I yelled Tobin's full name to him and he shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. I could hear him faintly call for him and look in the rearview mirror but he looked at me and shrugged his shoulders again. Right then a car horn honked as if this little scenario might be inconveniencing him. If there had not been kids within earshot...I threw my hands up at the little blankety-blank like "Really? What are you gonna do?" The bus driver offered to let me on to check when I explained that Tobin may have fallen asleep. I half expected this so I wasn't really panicking yet, feeling sure I would find my little tired man slumped in a seat drooling and dreaming away. Made it all the way to the back of the bus. Surely I had missed him at the front, bounding on as I had in my panic. All the way back to the front again calling "Tobin, it's time to wake up! Tobin the bus is here. Gotta go home!" My son was not on that bus.
There must have been a misunderstanding, the bus driver said. I'll call the office. I wasn't mad. Of course it's the first day of school, these things happen. IwillnotpanicIwillnotpanicIwillnotpanic. I didn't have a car. Christian had it at work! I had struck up a conversation with the other mom taking pictures. She saw me come off the bus without him and immediately said, "C'mon, I'll take you to school to find him." Meanwhile, Mr. Impatient Pants honked again because of course this fiasco had taken up just a bit too much of his time. I wish I could say I gave him the symbol for "God bless you". What is that, the sign of the cross? But there were kids there once again so for some reason I hit my chest and took my best "come at me, bro" stance. There was a dad on the scene that had a few choice words and I do believe I was called the b-word so that's going down in the history books.
We race to her car. Thankfully the school is only two seconds from my place and I RUN inside the school before I realize I've just left my children in the care of a person I've just met this morning. So once again, my head is on a swivel between the front office of the school and this lady in what could be a getaway car with my other two children while I search for my firstborn.
I tell her who I am and she tells me they put him on the wrong bus! No big deal, right. These things happen. Thousands of kids on the first day of school and there are going to be a couple of mix-ups right? The rational part of me is really trying to keep it together but then there's the other part of me who is a card-carrying member of the local Over-reactors Anonymous chapter. So they're putting in calls and trying to get ahold of the bus he's supposed to be on. I'm going to break my fingers if I wring them anymore. Trying to figure out when I should put out an Amber alert. FINALLY they get ahold of the driver and ask him if Tobin is there. "Nope."
I'm sorry, my son is lost on his first FIRST day of school and you just said "Nope." like you don't know if it's gonna rain tomorrow or not? The lady manning the cb radio and the phone almost loses her eyeballs and then glances at me, the lady who is now trying desperately not to grab the phone and do my best Liam Neeson impression. She can't continue the conversation because of all the other traffic on the radio and asks me if I'd like to take a seat. Take a seat?! "Nope." I'm doing my best trying to stay rooted to the spot and not run around in a circle while pulling my hair out!
She had to ask him three separate times if he had Tobin. Finally he pulled over somewhere and looked for him. Poor guy was awake staring out the window and probably didn't hear him or the driver didn't even see him. He had been on the bus for over an hour.
The secretary apologized profusely and said they would make sure it would get straightened out and then asked me if I still wanted him to ride the bus! We'll give it another shot tomorrow. The superintendent called (everyone) later in the afternoon with a message about the first day of school and mentioned snafus with the bus route. Last kid got home at 5:00 so I guess I shouldn't complain about 4:30. It was not the picture perfect ending to the first day of school but he survived and he's home and he still wants to go back so as long as my nerves hold up, we're all game to try again tomorrow!
Thursday, August 14, 2014
Thursday, February 6, 2014
Looking For You
I wrote this on a crummy day. One of those days where, even if everything is going well, it all falls apart when one piece gets out of place. Jenga! And then I'm stuck starting all over again. But it's funny how one aspect of our lives can make a difference in other areas, even if we'd like to believe that it isn't all connected. I turned to my journal and found this verse from Matthew 28:6, "He is not here; for He is risen, as He said." All of the italics are verses from this chapter.
I did a workout on tv today. The lady was very nice, very encouraging. "You can do it." She said it more often than I said it to myself. I believed her, though. "Why are you working out today?" She asked the question more than once. Well, why? Because I don't like the way I look. Because I signed up for a half marathon and don't wan to embarrass myself. Because I need to burn off the calories. My heart. How do I grab on with my heart and want this? I should work out. I need to work out. But unless I want to work out, my last workout might be my last ever. I think I cried today because I was so ashamed of how little I believe in myself. I believe in Jesus, my husband, my children. But being physically able? I have never believed that about myself. It's time to change that.
I am looking for you. I am tired of being afraid. Tired of carrying around this weakness, this burden. This belief that I can't. This unbelief. I am looking for you. I am done. "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified." I am tired of dwelling on failure, on the circumstances, on what happened. "He is not here; he has risen, just as he said." It's over. That was then, this is now. Even if my circumstance remain the same, my life is forever changed. My outlook is forever changed. If I choose. If I choose to believe in you, in myself. In the strength that is available to me through you. "Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples" 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee.'" There is too much to do for me to dwell on what I have and haven't done in the past. My future is not dependent on all the things I haven't done. It doesn't mean I can't do that in the future. There is no time for dwelling. If I'm going to move quickly, I have to move. I need to unbelieve all of it. I am looking for you.
I did a workout on tv today. The lady was very nice, very encouraging. "You can do it." She said it more often than I said it to myself. I believed her, though. "Why are you working out today?" She asked the question more than once. Well, why? Because I don't like the way I look. Because I signed up for a half marathon and don't wan to embarrass myself. Because I need to burn off the calories. My heart. How do I grab on with my heart and want this? I should work out. I need to work out. But unless I want to work out, my last workout might be my last ever. I think I cried today because I was so ashamed of how little I believe in myself. I believe in Jesus, my husband, my children. But being physically able? I have never believed that about myself. It's time to change that.
I am looking for you. I am tired of being afraid. Tired of carrying around this weakness, this burden. This belief that I can't. This unbelief. I am looking for you. I am done. "Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus, who was crucified." I am tired of dwelling on failure, on the circumstances, on what happened. "He is not here; he has risen, just as he said." It's over. That was then, this is now. Even if my circumstance remain the same, my life is forever changed. My outlook is forever changed. If I choose. If I choose to believe in you, in myself. In the strength that is available to me through you. "Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples" 'He has risen from the dead and is going ahead of you into Galilee.'" There is too much to do for me to dwell on what I have and haven't done in the past. My future is not dependent on all the things I haven't done. It doesn't mean I can't do that in the future. There is no time for dwelling. If I'm going to move quickly, I have to move. I need to unbelieve all of it. I am looking for you.
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Good Morning 2014!
You know how when someone gives you something that goes above and beyond what you can even rationalize? When friends hook you up, well, it's because you're friends. They gave me a baker's dozen but I already bought a dozen, so it's an appropriate perk, right? But when complete strangers give your kids free cupcakes just because you can't afford it, what's the catch? What's the reason? Why should YOU get a cupcake and not the next broke person? Why can't they just have one and split it? No kid needs that much sugar anyway.
This has been the soundtrack of my year. Countless times we have been loved on not only by people we know but by complete strangers. And I'm left speechless. Sometimes with gratitude, I'm definitely getting better at it, sometimes with wounded pride, vowing to avenge the attack of kindness by being kind to someone else. Sometimes we call it paying it forward but I'll bet sometimes it's to ease the guilt. The "who am I?" guilt. Why not the next person? How can I be standing here with my arms full when so many are still so empty? Like survivor's guilt, I suppose. How often have we survived a crisis just because someone reached out to us?
I don't know what your motivation is for giving. I'm still working on mine. Sometimes it's as off the mark as playing "Even Stevens" but what a prideful thing to think that I could ever even the score. Sometimes it's nice to be in the giver's seat instead of the handout seat. Horrible thing to say but who hasn't been grateful that they aren't "that person".
This year has been a hard one on my heart. Reshaping it has not felt good. But I've been starting to get it right. Giving because that's what I was put here to do. Who else is there? Instead of praying for God to send someone to help, just help. Even though my help may be woefully insignificant compared to someone else. And accepting because this is where I am. I won't always be here but there are lessons here that nothing else can teach me. An empathy that I don't want to wash away if we ever "make it". Something that is starting now because even now I can do a small something. And my kids. Gratitude is contagious and I hope they never get over it.
I could write a whole list of things I'd like to do differently this coming year, ways I'd like to improve, experiences I'd like to never go through again! But really, I just want to end next year the same way I did this year. Grateful.
This has been the soundtrack of my year. Countless times we have been loved on not only by people we know but by complete strangers. And I'm left speechless. Sometimes with gratitude, I'm definitely getting better at it, sometimes with wounded pride, vowing to avenge the attack of kindness by being kind to someone else. Sometimes we call it paying it forward but I'll bet sometimes it's to ease the guilt. The "who am I?" guilt. Why not the next person? How can I be standing here with my arms full when so many are still so empty? Like survivor's guilt, I suppose. How often have we survived a crisis just because someone reached out to us?
I don't know what your motivation is for giving. I'm still working on mine. Sometimes it's as off the mark as playing "Even Stevens" but what a prideful thing to think that I could ever even the score. Sometimes it's nice to be in the giver's seat instead of the handout seat. Horrible thing to say but who hasn't been grateful that they aren't "that person".
This year has been a hard one on my heart. Reshaping it has not felt good. But I've been starting to get it right. Giving because that's what I was put here to do. Who else is there? Instead of praying for God to send someone to help, just help. Even though my help may be woefully insignificant compared to someone else. And accepting because this is where I am. I won't always be here but there are lessons here that nothing else can teach me. An empathy that I don't want to wash away if we ever "make it". Something that is starting now because even now I can do a small something. And my kids. Gratitude is contagious and I hope they never get over it.
I could write a whole list of things I'd like to do differently this coming year, ways I'd like to improve, experiences I'd like to never go through again! But really, I just want to end next year the same way I did this year. Grateful.
Monday, October 28, 2013
Mountain Moving
It is so much easier for me to climb a visible mountain. One foot in front of the other, right? But it's the invisible obstacles that trip me up all the time. Let me back up.
I haven't written for so long and so much has happened so I'm going to have to go back to a couple of weeks ago. It's an experience that has stayed with me and has inspired my husband so perhaps I should share it. I decided last Saturday to tackle "the hill". I do not like hills. I pretty much will reroute my whole path to avoid having to run up a hill. Then there's my definition of a hill. Basically, if it's not level ground, it's a mountain. Much too dramatic. I see one and my heart kicks into another level of cardio. But I am running out of options for avoiding them. They are everywhere and I've put a few behind me, resisting the urge to do the "Rocky" dance at the top because that would just mess up my time. Who am I kidding? Like I'd have any extra energy to jump up and down once I made it to the top anyway!
So on Saturday I decided to go for it. This was truly a hill. We drove it the following Monday so I could show Christian and the van had to switch gears to get up it. The good news it that there was at least a downhill to get me started. There was no shoulder and this was a country road so my biggest concern was getting up the hill as fast as possible before getting run over by oncoming traffic. Ah, fear, the great motivator. I plopped one foot in front of the other until I made it all the way up. Did I mention that I was overdressed for the occasion? The weather had turned cold and I freaked out and threw on long sleeves, my running tights, and gloves. No fun. But I made it! Just in time to see another hill.
That's fine, it's not as bad as the first. I briefly considered turning around and heading to my easy route but remember the lovely downhill that I had to start me off? It has now mysteriously turned into an uphill battle. I'm stuck going up a hill either way. Might as well keep going forward.
One more hill down, and I see two in the distance. This is not fair. The previous hills did not warn me of their evil twins. And on and on. I finally came to the biggest hill of the whole ordeal. It went on forever. It was one of those two part suckers where you run up, level off and then run up some more. While I'm running up this hill, it is hot. I have no water, I'm over dressed. The sun is surely sending all of it's evil rays to torture me and I am an equal distance from home either way. There are no short cuts. Oh and cars keep coming over the cursed hill trying to see just how close they can get to me without actually hitting me. I wonder what their point system is.
I start praying. I start bringing to mind all the scriptures I know about running. I even sing the song to the "Jeffersons" at one point. I start thinking about how God takes care of the lilies of the valley and how He's going to get me home. And then I jump screaming over a squished snake. You get to know road kill up close and personal when you're running. And a voice enters my head, "Take care of the lilies of the valley, huh? You're probably gonna get squashed just like that snake." Now, I don't know how much you read your bible and to be truthful, there are many scriptures I've forgotten but I know enough to know that it could just be negative thoughts on my part (cuz I can get pretty negative) or the devil trying to get me to worry (which isn't hard) or stop trusting. You see, as soon as I brought God into this run, it was no longer just a run, but a spiritual battle that someone didn't want me to win. That's what happens. Living without God is sometimes in some ways a lot safer. There is no battle. You can't lose. But you'll never finish the race either. I seem to remember a verse, though, that talks about Jesus crushing the head of the serpent. I can check my bible now but on my run, I just had to let him know that God wins. God crushes Satan. On we go, up the hill.
This was at the three mile mark so I was still a mile and a half and a few hills from home. Easy sailing was not happening just yet. Did I mention I'm still trying to climb up the hill of horror? So, since it seemed like a mountain, what do I know about mountains? I know that if I have the faith of a mustard seed, I can move a mountain (Matt. 17:20). And you know what happened? It moved. Step by step until I turned around and it was behind me. It didn't explode or vanish into thin air. It wasn't thrown into the sea but it was out of my way. Sometimes I feel like our faith is supposed to make amazing things happen. Like all the miracles I read about in the bible or hear about on the news. To be sure, faith can make that happen. But it is a faith that moves. A faith that says "I believe" is nothing with out action that shows "I believe." And that's where I get stuck sometimes. I can talk a good game but when it's time to step out of the boat, I become a pansy. More often than not, I fail the faith test. More often than not, I'm more content to stay in the valley rather than make the painful journey up and out to get where I need to be. But it's so worth it, to look over my shoulder and know that the mountain is behind me because I chose to take one step after the other and believe that God would get me home.
I'm trying really hard to resist the alliteration that popped in my head...doubt, debt, dishes! I can't help it! I always find a cheesy one! I'm sorry. Even if your mountain doesn't begin with a "d", God's got more than enough strength to get you to the other side. Ooh, laundry. That one doesn't begin with a "d"...
I haven't written for so long and so much has happened so I'm going to have to go back to a couple of weeks ago. It's an experience that has stayed with me and has inspired my husband so perhaps I should share it. I decided last Saturday to tackle "the hill". I do not like hills. I pretty much will reroute my whole path to avoid having to run up a hill. Then there's my definition of a hill. Basically, if it's not level ground, it's a mountain. Much too dramatic. I see one and my heart kicks into another level of cardio. But I am running out of options for avoiding them. They are everywhere and I've put a few behind me, resisting the urge to do the "Rocky" dance at the top because that would just mess up my time. Who am I kidding? Like I'd have any extra energy to jump up and down once I made it to the top anyway!
So on Saturday I decided to go for it. This was truly a hill. We drove it the following Monday so I could show Christian and the van had to switch gears to get up it. The good news it that there was at least a downhill to get me started. There was no shoulder and this was a country road so my biggest concern was getting up the hill as fast as possible before getting run over by oncoming traffic. Ah, fear, the great motivator. I plopped one foot in front of the other until I made it all the way up. Did I mention that I was overdressed for the occasion? The weather had turned cold and I freaked out and threw on long sleeves, my running tights, and gloves. No fun. But I made it! Just in time to see another hill.
That's fine, it's not as bad as the first. I briefly considered turning around and heading to my easy route but remember the lovely downhill that I had to start me off? It has now mysteriously turned into an uphill battle. I'm stuck going up a hill either way. Might as well keep going forward.
One more hill down, and I see two in the distance. This is not fair. The previous hills did not warn me of their evil twins. And on and on. I finally came to the biggest hill of the whole ordeal. It went on forever. It was one of those two part suckers where you run up, level off and then run up some more. While I'm running up this hill, it is hot. I have no water, I'm over dressed. The sun is surely sending all of it's evil rays to torture me and I am an equal distance from home either way. There are no short cuts. Oh and cars keep coming over the cursed hill trying to see just how close they can get to me without actually hitting me. I wonder what their point system is.
I start praying. I start bringing to mind all the scriptures I know about running. I even sing the song to the "Jeffersons" at one point. I start thinking about how God takes care of the lilies of the valley and how He's going to get me home. And then I jump screaming over a squished snake. You get to know road kill up close and personal when you're running. And a voice enters my head, "Take care of the lilies of the valley, huh? You're probably gonna get squashed just like that snake." Now, I don't know how much you read your bible and to be truthful, there are many scriptures I've forgotten but I know enough to know that it could just be negative thoughts on my part (cuz I can get pretty negative) or the devil trying to get me to worry (which isn't hard) or stop trusting. You see, as soon as I brought God into this run, it was no longer just a run, but a spiritual battle that someone didn't want me to win. That's what happens. Living without God is sometimes in some ways a lot safer. There is no battle. You can't lose. But you'll never finish the race either. I seem to remember a verse, though, that talks about Jesus crushing the head of the serpent. I can check my bible now but on my run, I just had to let him know that God wins. God crushes Satan. On we go, up the hill.
This was at the three mile mark so I was still a mile and a half and a few hills from home. Easy sailing was not happening just yet. Did I mention I'm still trying to climb up the hill of horror? So, since it seemed like a mountain, what do I know about mountains? I know that if I have the faith of a mustard seed, I can move a mountain (Matt. 17:20). And you know what happened? It moved. Step by step until I turned around and it was behind me. It didn't explode or vanish into thin air. It wasn't thrown into the sea but it was out of my way. Sometimes I feel like our faith is supposed to make amazing things happen. Like all the miracles I read about in the bible or hear about on the news. To be sure, faith can make that happen. But it is a faith that moves. A faith that says "I believe" is nothing with out action that shows "I believe." And that's where I get stuck sometimes. I can talk a good game but when it's time to step out of the boat, I become a pansy. More often than not, I fail the faith test. More often than not, I'm more content to stay in the valley rather than make the painful journey up and out to get where I need to be. But it's so worth it, to look over my shoulder and know that the mountain is behind me because I chose to take one step after the other and believe that God would get me home.
I'm trying really hard to resist the alliteration that popped in my head...doubt, debt, dishes! I can't help it! I always find a cheesy one! I'm sorry. Even if your mountain doesn't begin with a "d", God's got more than enough strength to get you to the other side. Ooh, laundry. That one doesn't begin with a "d"...
Sunday, October 13, 2013
Hand Foot Mouth, History, and Hymns...and Hammy Titles
I'm so glad this week ended on a good note. We started off with the fevers leftover from last weekend. 104 for Aria and by the time it caught Coen, I couldn't fine the darn thing but it was high. And then the rashes. I just went to the doctor on Thursday with Aria! A fever that high usually sends us to the doctor but it wasn't an ear infection or strep. A mystery virus. But the rashes. I had never seen a rash like Coen's before. I have seen a few in my time as a preschool teacher but nothing like this. So of course the only smart thing to do was to Google childhood rashes.
If you'd like to scare yourself silly and convince yourself that your child has mono, do what I did. I knew going in this was a bad idea. I told myself to keep cool, to not believe in Crone's disease, to remain objective. Yeah, that flew out the window real quick. Mono, meningitis, Rheumatic fever, all of these panic-inducing results flashed on the page. After much nail-biting and texting my sister (an LPN) to let her know my children were dying, I made another appointment. When I described the symptoms, they told me to come immediately and they had me wait with them in the hall. My children had the plague. Or leprosy.
Hand foot mouth disease! Do you know how many times I've seen this in my years as a preschool teacher?! Yes, it was around their mouths and, yes, their hands too. But the fever was so high and the rash was so bad and I'm such a worry wart that I was sure it was a tropical strain of the measles or something. This is what Coen's leg looked like.
In other news, we were waiting and waiting for a check to come in from some side work Christian did. Waited for a week. Watched the money leave the bank as bill after bill needed to be paid. Watched as the gas gauge dipped closer to "E." Watched the fridge get a little bit emptier each day. Good thing I like to do cooking experiments cuz when certain ingredients are out of stock, we gotta make it up as we go! Watched the mail, waiting and waiting. I wish I could say I watched and prayed. I wish I could be that lady in the picture that is calmly praying and perfectly believing. I had moments. Moments where I was sure that God, who has come through every time, would come through once again. And then I had moments of panic. Where my mind would run away on the what-if train, just knowing we were going to crash and burn. Every hopeful, hurried trip to the mailbox ended with a worried trudge back to the house to announce, "No check."
Finally on Friday, I made the call I had been dreading. Not because I don't like who I'm calling. I like her a lot, actually. It was the kind of call that made me feel not so grown-up. Not in control of my own destiny. To admit I needed help. I had to psyche myself up for this call. That it was okay. That God would forgive me for being so faithless. I had held it together the whole week but IF that check didn't come, I wouldn't even be able to make a phone call come Saturday. And in that moment I wasn't sure if he would come through. I called my mommy. Asked her and dad if we could borrow money with promises to pay it back. Whenever the check came. You know what I didn't do before I called her? Check the mail. We bought groceries as soon as the money was in the account and instead of checking the mail on the way back from the store I trudged in grateful for all the food I had to lug in but sad that I had not been able to hold it together. Maybe it would be in the mail Saturday morning. Maybe we'd have enough time. The check was sitting in my mailbox that Friday afternoon.
You know what I'm most grateful for? The fact that God doesn't let me drown just because I lose faith. He rescues me from my situation but also from my faithlessness about the situation. And He restores it. And I can feel stupid about what I did but He's ready to move on.
The other reason this week was a little tough was this week marked not only the birthdays of my Grandma and Granddad Wilson but the death of my Granddad. His funeral was actually one year ago today. Which definitely mixes my emotions up having Aria's birthday today as well. Her first birthday was met with a lot of tears so this was the first time she'd had a birthday party.
I've heard lots of church music this week. Christian won tickets to a Jimmy Needham concert. If you haven't heard of him, he's pretty stinking awesome. We had only heard him on the radio. Nice songs, but hadn't thought much of it until we won the tickets. Another person touring with him was Ross King. You must know this guy. I'm not saying you do, I'm saying you MUST! His words blew me away. I really liked "Hallelujah For the Cross." You can tell he's not really one to do music videos but don't laugh. Just listen to the words and close your eyes if you must.
Anyway, in addition to that, I heard a lot of hymns, which are part of my DNA just about. When you grow up falling asleep in a pew to these songs, they're kind of like a mile marker along your life journey. Times when you had no idea what they meant and couldn't care less, times when you believed and were on fire, times when you finally realized what they meant. Not to mention the times when you knew what they meant and didn't care. When times were simpler and I wasn't so tired. I've been to all of those places. I don't hear them as much as I used to anymore. I suppose they are kind of uncool or irrelevant for some. It was hard this week hearing them again because they remind me of my grandparents too. I'm on the fence about them being made over. Some that I have heard are great but I also feel like, "Don't you be messing with my hymns." I know it's shallow. After all, I'm not supposed to be worshipping a song or genre.
I don't have a witty closing but to say, that was my week and I hope I have the energy come Monday morning to make it through a new one! I have a terrible two year old on my hands, after all!
If you'd like to scare yourself silly and convince yourself that your child has mono, do what I did. I knew going in this was a bad idea. I told myself to keep cool, to not believe in Crone's disease, to remain objective. Yeah, that flew out the window real quick. Mono, meningitis, Rheumatic fever, all of these panic-inducing results flashed on the page. After much nail-biting and texting my sister (an LPN) to let her know my children were dying, I made another appointment. When I described the symptoms, they told me to come immediately and they had me wait with them in the hall. My children had the plague. Or leprosy.
Hand foot mouth disease! Do you know how many times I've seen this in my years as a preschool teacher?! Yes, it was around their mouths and, yes, their hands too. But the fever was so high and the rash was so bad and I'm such a worry wart that I was sure it was a tropical strain of the measles or something. This is what Coen's leg looked like.
I've never seen that before. He also had a secondary skin infection. So add that to your database of childhood rash disease photos. In other news, we were waiting and waiting for a check to come in from some side work Christian did. Waited for a week. Watched the money leave the bank as bill after bill needed to be paid. Watched as the gas gauge dipped closer to "E." Watched the fridge get a little bit emptier each day. Good thing I like to do cooking experiments cuz when certain ingredients are out of stock, we gotta make it up as we go! Watched the mail, waiting and waiting. I wish I could say I watched and prayed. I wish I could be that lady in the picture that is calmly praying and perfectly believing. I had moments. Moments where I was sure that God, who has come through every time, would come through once again. And then I had moments of panic. Where my mind would run away on the what-if train, just knowing we were going to crash and burn. Every hopeful, hurried trip to the mailbox ended with a worried trudge back to the house to announce, "No check."
Finally on Friday, I made the call I had been dreading. Not because I don't like who I'm calling. I like her a lot, actually. It was the kind of call that made me feel not so grown-up. Not in control of my own destiny. To admit I needed help. I had to psyche myself up for this call. That it was okay. That God would forgive me for being so faithless. I had held it together the whole week but IF that check didn't come, I wouldn't even be able to make a phone call come Saturday. And in that moment I wasn't sure if he would come through. I called my mommy. Asked her and dad if we could borrow money with promises to pay it back. Whenever the check came. You know what I didn't do before I called her? Check the mail. We bought groceries as soon as the money was in the account and instead of checking the mail on the way back from the store I trudged in grateful for all the food I had to lug in but sad that I had not been able to hold it together. Maybe it would be in the mail Saturday morning. Maybe we'd have enough time. The check was sitting in my mailbox that Friday afternoon.
You know what I'm most grateful for? The fact that God doesn't let me drown just because I lose faith. He rescues me from my situation but also from my faithlessness about the situation. And He restores it. And I can feel stupid about what I did but He's ready to move on.
The other reason this week was a little tough was this week marked not only the birthdays of my Grandma and Granddad Wilson but the death of my Granddad. His funeral was actually one year ago today. Which definitely mixes my emotions up having Aria's birthday today as well. Her first birthday was met with a lot of tears so this was the first time she'd had a birthday party.
I've heard lots of church music this week. Christian won tickets to a Jimmy Needham concert. If you haven't heard of him, he's pretty stinking awesome. We had only heard him on the radio. Nice songs, but hadn't thought much of it until we won the tickets. Another person touring with him was Ross King. You must know this guy. I'm not saying you do, I'm saying you MUST! His words blew me away. I really liked "Hallelujah For the Cross." You can tell he's not really one to do music videos but don't laugh. Just listen to the words and close your eyes if you must.
Anyway, in addition to that, I heard a lot of hymns, which are part of my DNA just about. When you grow up falling asleep in a pew to these songs, they're kind of like a mile marker along your life journey. Times when you had no idea what they meant and couldn't care less, times when you believed and were on fire, times when you finally realized what they meant. Not to mention the times when you knew what they meant and didn't care. When times were simpler and I wasn't so tired. I've been to all of those places. I don't hear them as much as I used to anymore. I suppose they are kind of uncool or irrelevant for some. It was hard this week hearing them again because they remind me of my grandparents too. I'm on the fence about them being made over. Some that I have heard are great but I also feel like, "Don't you be messing with my hymns." I know it's shallow. After all, I'm not supposed to be worshipping a song or genre.
I don't have a witty closing but to say, that was my week and I hope I have the energy come Monday morning to make it through a new one! I have a terrible two year old on my hands, after all!
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Everyday
Well, nothing has settled down much, but everyone has their own personal circus. We have another birthday coming this Sunday. Aria will officially be terribly two. We're currently trying to get over a bout of hand, foot, and mouth disease. Coen has it the worst I have ever seen! He has so many huge blisters that he's developed an infection. Nice, I know. You want a picture? I'll spare you. The thing is, I looked online to try and see what I could find out for myself knowing full well I would probably believe he was dying. It didn't look like anything he hadn't already been vaccinated for before so, after checking with my LPN sister, we took him in.
In other news, is there anything as a parent or teacher that you don't worry about? If they are writing, I'm worried about their art. If they do science, I worry they haven't built a block tower lately. And as soon as they sit in front of the tv or play video games, I'm worried that their brains are shrinking by the second. Oh, and then there's the great outdoors. Every minute spent inside means they aren't making vitamin D and they'll be deficient. Not to mention outside is awesome. You know, if we didn't have this dog, I think we'd be outside a lot less. I think I have too many of those days where I just don't want to go outside. Which is silly, seeing as how I know that once I'm outside, my funky fog will lift and life will be awesome again. That's how it is for me anyway. I'm a professional worrier. And eater. And yes, I know they're related.
I've cut down on coffee. I haven't had any for the past two days. I had some chai tea yesterday because I had to have something. There's just something about actually making it to the point where I've brewed coffee and things are calm enough for me to pour myself a cup that makes me feel normal. Like showering. As long as I get a shower and my coffee, we won't go under. My problem has been that when I make a pot of coffee, I usually end up drinking the whole thing. Not good for my nerves, not good. Especially since I'm high strung anyway! So we'll see what I can do about moderation. It's not really my strong suit.
I've also started running again. I've been struggling in that area too. So many 5k's have come and gone that I just can't spend the money on. And the one where I could have volunteered, we had a birthday shindig! It's discouraging. But I suppose if I really want to run, it shouldn't matter if it's in a race or not. It would be nice to be able to run for a good cause and someday I will. Maybe I'll have a bunch of racing shirts too! Until then, I'll just burn away the miles. I didn't buy these running shoes for nothing!
Well, that about sums it up. Not much fluctuation in the level of crazy around here, just a different version depending on the day. Perhaps that's why I haven't written much.
In other news, is there anything as a parent or teacher that you don't worry about? If they are writing, I'm worried about their art. If they do science, I worry they haven't built a block tower lately. And as soon as they sit in front of the tv or play video games, I'm worried that their brains are shrinking by the second. Oh, and then there's the great outdoors. Every minute spent inside means they aren't making vitamin D and they'll be deficient. Not to mention outside is awesome. You know, if we didn't have this dog, I think we'd be outside a lot less. I think I have too many of those days where I just don't want to go outside. Which is silly, seeing as how I know that once I'm outside, my funky fog will lift and life will be awesome again. That's how it is for me anyway. I'm a professional worrier. And eater. And yes, I know they're related.
I've cut down on coffee. I haven't had any for the past two days. I had some chai tea yesterday because I had to have something. There's just something about actually making it to the point where I've brewed coffee and things are calm enough for me to pour myself a cup that makes me feel normal. Like showering. As long as I get a shower and my coffee, we won't go under. My problem has been that when I make a pot of coffee, I usually end up drinking the whole thing. Not good for my nerves, not good. Especially since I'm high strung anyway! So we'll see what I can do about moderation. It's not really my strong suit.
I've also started running again. I've been struggling in that area too. So many 5k's have come and gone that I just can't spend the money on. And the one where I could have volunteered, we had a birthday shindig! It's discouraging. But I suppose if I really want to run, it shouldn't matter if it's in a race or not. It would be nice to be able to run for a good cause and someday I will. Maybe I'll have a bunch of racing shirts too! Until then, I'll just burn away the miles. I didn't buy these running shoes for nothing!
Well, that about sums it up. Not much fluctuation in the level of crazy around here, just a different version depending on the day. Perhaps that's why I haven't written much.
Behold the Chiefs
Let's go back to September 30, 2013. Not so long ago, but at the speed of life around here, it seems eons ago. That day was...magical. Like a fantasy, like I was on some sort of awesome drug that gave me a partial sunburn. Christian and I went to see our first football game in real life.
I guess the reason I haven't written about it is, honestly, I haven't figured out how to put it into words. All week I was planned, packing (read: stressing), and wondering what it would be like. the kids were going to spend the day with mom and dad and the cousins on Sunday so they were having an adventure of their own. I remarked to Christian that this was the first time I had not been pregnant or nursing for our anniversary! Yay for new chapters!
We woke up at 4:30 in the morning, rubbing the sleep out of our eyes to make way for the wonders that would behold us. After pit stops for gas, food, and picking up extra people, we were finally on our foggy way. Seriously! From the moment we set sail, all the way to KC, we drove through fog. Even after the sun came up, it had a hard time burning away this blanket. We passed over Truman Lake and you couldn't even see it! But this helped with the wonder factor. My husband will probably do a face palm but riding through the fog and emerging in Kansas City Sunday morning traffic was like...time warping through a portal into the land of Oz. It's like when you take the ship or the griffin in WOW. It was seriously science fiction stuff that I've totally messed up but that's what it was. Other worldly indeed.
From then on out I was wide eyed wondering what to expect. We made our way to Arrowhead stadium as it was struggling to rise through the fog and grill smoke of the tailgaters who had been there...since sunup? I don't know. That was the biggest parking lot I'd ever seen. You see it from the blimp on TV but you don't really believe it. The party was already in full swing. Block after block of tailgaters, as far as the eye could see. The morning was crispy cold which was totally at odds with people already busy with making lunch at 8:00 am. I was so unprepared. I felt like I needed to take notes for next time. I already knew there had to be a next time.
We unloaded, set up the grill, and set to work making our camp. We were an instant target for ridicule as our tour guide for the trip was a diehard Giants fan. I wanted everyone to know I wasn't really "with" him as far as the Giants were concerned, but then it begged the question: who was I with? And here's the other reason I haven't shared the experience. I am a fair weather fan. A prodigal fan. For years I cheered for the Chiefs, holding on through every loss, and nursing my broken heart after every game or playoff game that they almost won. But didn't. I was hurt, disillusioned. Angry that I had cared so much about a stupid game to be disappointed so many times. I couldn't take it anymore. I stopped cheering when they won, even though I was happy, because I knew they would just lose again. I didn't get my hopes up because it hurt too much.
So when I saw them start to win, I tried to keep myself occupied. They won the first game? Good for them. They could use a win. 2-0? Well, just wait. After this, it will probably just go downhill. 3-0. I'm listening. Listening to the buzz, the chatter. Still guarded, still waiting. For the other shoe to drop.
When we packed up to head to the stadium the electricity turned up a notch. The gravitational pull was unbearable and I wanted to run all the way there. The smell of grills cooling down and fans revving up spurred us on. For every heckler, there was a Giants fan willing to give my BIL a high five. Some folks, who had already had an ample supply of alcohol that morning doled out hugs of encouragement.
Once through security, which wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be, we wound our way up the staircase, wide-eyed and watching. If you're a people watcher, it's a wonderland! We found our seats and even though we were high up in a corner, I could see the game perfectly.
The anticipation built until they sang the national anthem and the fireworks went off and it was on! My phone died ten minutes into the game but it freed me to actually watch it. People yelling for beer and water. Making fun of each other's teams. Trading stats like insults. The wave! It went all the way around the stadium! And I did the Tomahawk Chop. I was so excited for every positive thing that happened for the Chiefs but I held back. Out of respect for "real fans"? Respect for my BIL? But Dexter McCluster. He sold me Running that kickoff back for a touchdown. I almost didn't stand up, expecting, like most people, that he would be tackled in due time. But there was no whistle. We all started standing...screaming...taking a breath to scream some more...and he was in the end zone! I jumped. I screamed. I lost my head. Almost lost my voice. I was sold. So sad for my BIL but sold.
I know. I should be ashamed of myself for being unfaithful for all those years. I am. I never latched onto another team. My husband is a Niners fan, so of course I want them to do well just so I don't have to live with a grump after the games...but...I was lost. I've been rooting for them. Saw the last game. Don't know what I'll do when they play the Niners. I guess the loser can sleep on the couch.
After the game I walked out on a cloud. Just being there, adding the air of celebration. People, drunk people, were running in the streets, more hugs and high fives. I had had too much Dr. Pepper and not enough sleep so there was that delirium to add to it too. The fumes of the experience followed us all the way home. We beat the kids home and I sat on the steps waiting for them, daydreaming about the day that we could take them to experience something like what we had just been through.
It was a once in a lifetime experience. I certainly hope it will happen again but life will still be great even if I only have that one adventure enshrined in my memory. Go Chiefs!
I guess the reason I haven't written about it is, honestly, I haven't figured out how to put it into words. All week I was planned, packing (read: stressing), and wondering what it would be like. the kids were going to spend the day with mom and dad and the cousins on Sunday so they were having an adventure of their own. I remarked to Christian that this was the first time I had not been pregnant or nursing for our anniversary! Yay for new chapters!
We woke up at 4:30 in the morning, rubbing the sleep out of our eyes to make way for the wonders that would behold us. After pit stops for gas, food, and picking up extra people, we were finally on our foggy way. Seriously! From the moment we set sail, all the way to KC, we drove through fog. Even after the sun came up, it had a hard time burning away this blanket. We passed over Truman Lake and you couldn't even see it! But this helped with the wonder factor. My husband will probably do a face palm but riding through the fog and emerging in Kansas City Sunday morning traffic was like...time warping through a portal into the land of Oz. It's like when you take the ship or the griffin in WOW. It was seriously science fiction stuff that I've totally messed up but that's what it was. Other worldly indeed.
From then on out I was wide eyed wondering what to expect. We made our way to Arrowhead stadium as it was struggling to rise through the fog and grill smoke of the tailgaters who had been there...since sunup? I don't know. That was the biggest parking lot I'd ever seen. You see it from the blimp on TV but you don't really believe it. The party was already in full swing. Block after block of tailgaters, as far as the eye could see. The morning was crispy cold which was totally at odds with people already busy with making lunch at 8:00 am. I was so unprepared. I felt like I needed to take notes for next time. I already knew there had to be a next time.
We unloaded, set up the grill, and set to work making our camp. We were an instant target for ridicule as our tour guide for the trip was a diehard Giants fan. I wanted everyone to know I wasn't really "with" him as far as the Giants were concerned, but then it begged the question: who was I with? And here's the other reason I haven't shared the experience. I am a fair weather fan. A prodigal fan. For years I cheered for the Chiefs, holding on through every loss, and nursing my broken heart after every game or playoff game that they almost won. But didn't. I was hurt, disillusioned. Angry that I had cared so much about a stupid game to be disappointed so many times. I couldn't take it anymore. I stopped cheering when they won, even though I was happy, because I knew they would just lose again. I didn't get my hopes up because it hurt too much.
So when I saw them start to win, I tried to keep myself occupied. They won the first game? Good for them. They could use a win. 2-0? Well, just wait. After this, it will probably just go downhill. 3-0. I'm listening. Listening to the buzz, the chatter. Still guarded, still waiting. For the other shoe to drop.
When we packed up to head to the stadium the electricity turned up a notch. The gravitational pull was unbearable and I wanted to run all the way there. The smell of grills cooling down and fans revving up spurred us on. For every heckler, there was a Giants fan willing to give my BIL a high five. Some folks, who had already had an ample supply of alcohol that morning doled out hugs of encouragement.
Once through security, which wasn't as awkward as I thought it would be, we wound our way up the staircase, wide-eyed and watching. If you're a people watcher, it's a wonderland! We found our seats and even though we were high up in a corner, I could see the game perfectly.
The anticipation built until they sang the national anthem and the fireworks went off and it was on! My phone died ten minutes into the game but it freed me to actually watch it. People yelling for beer and water. Making fun of each other's teams. Trading stats like insults. The wave! It went all the way around the stadium! And I did the Tomahawk Chop. I was so excited for every positive thing that happened for the Chiefs but I held back. Out of respect for "real fans"? Respect for my BIL? But Dexter McCluster. He sold me Running that kickoff back for a touchdown. I almost didn't stand up, expecting, like most people, that he would be tackled in due time. But there was no whistle. We all started standing...screaming...taking a breath to scream some more...and he was in the end zone! I jumped. I screamed. I lost my head. Almost lost my voice. I was sold. So sad for my BIL but sold.
I know. I should be ashamed of myself for being unfaithful for all those years. I am. I never latched onto another team. My husband is a Niners fan, so of course I want them to do well just so I don't have to live with a grump after the games...but...I was lost. I've been rooting for them. Saw the last game. Don't know what I'll do when they play the Niners. I guess the loser can sleep on the couch.
After the game I walked out on a cloud. Just being there, adding the air of celebration. People, drunk people, were running in the streets, more hugs and high fives. I had had too much Dr. Pepper and not enough sleep so there was that delirium to add to it too. The fumes of the experience followed us all the way home. We beat the kids home and I sat on the steps waiting for them, daydreaming about the day that we could take them to experience something like what we had just been through.
It was a once in a lifetime experience. I certainly hope it will happen again but life will still be great even if I only have that one adventure enshrined in my memory. Go Chiefs!
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