My whole body went cold when I saw the number on the telephone. Univerisity Hospital Urgent Neurology Department.
I had an M.R.I. last week and they said the result would take about seven days...
Everyone knows it's not usually a good thing if they actually call you about the results...
Would they want me to come in and discuss them?
Dear Jesus....help me....
help me just to pick up the phone.
He did, and I did and it was all a false alarm. Apparently I've finally been booked into an appointment with a migraine specialist in the city.
A sigh of relief so mighty I think my knees gave out.
Isn't it amazing how powerful fear is?
My sister and I were reminiscing last week on our separate but equal experiences of being chased home from kindergarten by a large dog. Two different kids, two different schools, two different towns , two different dogs...exactly the same adrenaline that made us fly home faster than any five year old's legs every carried them; swept along by blind panic that any minute the large playful dog hot on our heels would devour us in it's enormous jaws.
Thinking about it, still gets my heart beating.
And just last night we took our five year old for her first ever horse-back riding lesson and no actual horse-back riding actually happened. Because it was the same combination of small child and large animal and my poor overwhelmed kid just stood there after all the months of chatting excitedly about getting to ride a horse, after all the drawings of herself on a horse, after decorating her bedroom and filling her wardrobe with homemade "cowgirl" outfits, after all the times we've driven out to visit horses in their stables where they were being ridden by other girls, going to the rodeo and even just watching it on YouTube, after pointing out loudly, every horse spotted on the side of the highway...after all this, she burst into tears.
I can't do it mom, I can't ride it mom, I just can't. I just can't do it!
Now granted I think her normal amount of pluck was badly bludgeoned by the immunization incident she suffered on Tuesday morning. But I really wasn't that surprised that she had that reaction. After all, docile and old, she may be...but that horse was still pretty big.
It took a lot of coaxing and the special touch of her very skilled trainer to get her close enough to old Mary to begin brushing her and eventually with me standing beside her we got to brushing out her mane and tail and even picking out her hooves. She got more and more relaxed and she began to chat and I could see her relaxing and beginning to open up.
Finally it was time for me to stand back and her trainer showed her how to hold the lead rope and together they took Mary into the practice ring. My daughter learned how to guide her left and right, how to back up and how to say "woah" and bring the mare to a stop.
By the end of the class her trainer was standing on one side of the ring alone and my daughter focused and pleased with herself led that big creature all around and through the pile-ons that had been set up.
All. By. Herself.
She never did get up on Mary's back, although she assures me she'll try again next week and with the progress she made in only an hour last night, I'm pretty confident she will too.
The hard part for me as a mom is simply knowing when to step in and when to back off. When do I put my hand over hers with the brush and help her get her hands onto the horse's back and when do I fade into the distance so that she can take the reigns so to speak?..
The best teachers are those that have perfected that art.
It's humbling on one hand to realize my little girl still needs me and it's humbling to realize she only needs me to a certain point.
It's a balancing act, Even for myself in mastering my own fears. When do I accept or ask for help, when does that support become a crutch?
Driving home from the stable, my shoulders were tense and I felt strained and nervous. I have very poor night vision and it was at my husbands push, that I was the one behind the wheel. He wants me to be able to be the one who shares these weekly classes with our daughter and I want that too, but I don't usually like to drive after dark, especially on little gravel roads that lack streetlights, lines and proper ditches.
But I did it and I'm glad I did, because next week perhaps I can make it on my own.
Me behind the wheel and my little girl up in that saddle.
Both of us conquering our fears.
It started off with me thinking that it might actually be okay this time.
"We have an appointment this morning sweetheart" I told her in the morning when she came to me, curling herself up like a kitten, like a still small baby like she used to. I'm so glad she still does.
"It's for a needle sweetie, just one poke...it's no big deal" I reassure her and she nods because I've been doing this all along too. Reassuring her.
I learned long ago when she was still a small babe, that the stronger I was, the stronger she could be. The calmer I was, the calmer she would be. So I trained myself to be still and calm and strong and hold her steady through the screaming and writhing and the tears and she'd be okay.
I'm trying to train myself in this in other ways too. And sometimes I fail. Miscommunications happen on the telephone and emotions run strong and I am the one with tears and a raised voice and the overreaction to pain and I forget she's there, watching and soaking it all in....little sponge that she is.
And sometimes I fail in the hot seat itself. I have her little body braced in my lap, but it's going to be three pokes not just one and my reassurances look like lies. And the needles themselves; they're huge. Three times the size of those when she was here last, 18 months old and so much more trusting, so much more forgiving and forgetful. A smarty could still fix the tears last time. But this time there fear and my singing isn't penetrating it. My gentle rubbing of her back isn't fixing anything. She's wild eyed and shrieking and breaking my heart as she begs and pleads for it to be over, but there's still two more to go and I fail her. Because I forget to pray.
I forget the source of all that calm all that peace that transcends human understanding and I leave him out of the room when he is needed most. I forget to draw on the well that is the only thing that can help and I am instead left doing a pitiful job in my own strength.
She knows it and I know it, and she cries all afternoon. Cries from the soreness and the stiffness and the fever that follows that night, the trip to the bathroom because her stomach has turned sour and she cries from the sight of the blood and the bruising because I didn't hold her still enough through her panic. Mostly she cries because she feels betrayed. Her face is puffy until the next morning.
I don't know who feels worse.
There was a lot of emotion yesterday, and eventually it was sorted through. A slow untangling and straightening out. Things returned to normal...no better than normal. Because at the end of all the struggle there is something better, something that may protect from the storm again next time. There's been lessons learned and the biggest one is to not leave the arms of the one who is holding me tight through it all either. My heavenly father is there with me braced in his lap, holding my hand, holding me still and I forget. I writhe and shriek and turn away. I try to do things on my own with a counterfeit serenity that helps no one. And I can't afford to hand the same counterfeit to my daughter. She needs more.
Later in the afternoon, I suggested we pray. She shook her head fiercely.
" I don't want to! I don't know how!!! It hurts too bad".
I know the feeling, I've said those words myself.
"Alright, well why don't you pray with me and you can repeat my words"
You can follow my example.
And she does.
It's been a week of treats here at our house. I summoned the energy to do some baking with the kids in honor of Valentines day. I thought it might be nice to share with you all our favorite chocolate chip recipe (made extra special by the addition of pink food coloring)
Where I got this recipe, I really have no idea. It crossed paths with me when I was in University, right around the time one needs a good recipe for chocolate chip cookies to snack on while cramming for exams.
I did not actually possess any implements for actually baking the cookies back then. I used a dutch oven as my mixing bowl and purely estimated the measuring of ingredients but even then, by golly they were good. (maybe even better).
the pictures are cute, are they not?
3/4 cup white sugar and 3/4 cup brown
2 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
3/4 tsp salt
2 cups chocolate chips. We mix it up and add 1 cup chocolate chips and 1/2 cup each of white chocolate chips and butterscotch chips.
Preheat oven to 350 (175 C)
In a large mixing bowl cream butter, sugars, eggs and vanilla (add the food coloring at this point if you want colored cookies)
In a separate bowl combine flour, baking soda, and salt. Mix dry ingredients into the wet ingredients.
Stir in all those chocolate chips
Drop batter by spoonful onto not stick cookie sheets and bake for 6-8 minutes in the preheated oven. Allow to cool for five minutes at least before scarfing them down.
I made a resolution this afternoon to be a better mom. It was right around the time I had finished sewing up the first of two decorated cloth envelopes so my kids could awaken tomorrow morning and have fun opening them to find all manner of little loving goodies. My plan was to write a love note to each of my children so that there would be some lasting token of my affection for them long after the candy wrappers had been thrown away. I thought about those little notes I wanted to write and all the heartfelt things I wanted to genuinely say and I made a firm vow that I was going to really be that mother all of the time from here on out. No more nagging, no more frustration leaking into my voice, no more inconsistencies, no more unfair judgement calls, no more being tied up on the telephone or internet or sewing machine. I was going to do it all from now one better.
I made it about two hours ...most of which my daughter was at school and my son was sound asleep....sigh.
An hour or so after that I was standing on the side of the road with my toddler in my arms trying to soothe him whilst he cried from the bite of the cold wind. "Don't worry little buddy, I know you're cold. Her bus will be here any minute....any minute now....any minute...oh dear Jesus please help her bus to come now!"
Finally, we had to admit defeat and retreat back to the house, where I frantically dialed her bus driver wondering what had happened to make her a half hour later for our usual pick up time. All sorts of scenarios ran through my head, and this isn't the first time the consistency of the bus system from her school has fallen through. (let's just say, it's not the most solid rock I've got to stand on).
Within moments of course, I received a call back from the driver assuring me they were en route but had been stopped by a large accident on the train tracks that split our town in half. Very soon, my sobbing five year old was in my arms, while my frazzled nerves worked overtime to comfort us both.
Then the baby cut his mouth and dinner hardly got cooked and my picky little one's deigned to sully their forks with any of the veggies and then there were fights and screaming and children being hard of hearing and cupcakes that had to be made for the next day and the second cloth envelop almost didn't make it, (which would never do) and I found myself a distracted, harried, ungracious mother far off the mark I had set for myself short hours ago...
Earlier today I had fallen in love with the words and music of a classic hymn I had never heard. More than anything the message stole me completely. "Abide with Me", Henry F. Lyte pleaded of God as he lay dying in the middle of the 17th century. His words resonated deeply with me even today, here is a small excerpt:
Abide with me; fast falls the eventide
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide
When other helpers fail and other comforts flee
Help of the helpless; abide with me.
I need thy presence every passing hour
What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power
Who like Thyself, my guide and stay can be
Through cloud and sunshine; abide with me.
Upon the sweet truth of this hymn is the secret to finding a rest, a stillness, a peace and a strength I so often lack. I lack it most when trials come or the day feels long and bleak or my heart turns to ice as I look down the road and don't see that expected thing coming to me, anxiety creeps in and takes it's hold and I am not abiding. I am struggling and this too must be my prayer, that when other helpers fail and other comforts flee, that the Help of the helpless might abide with me.
I failed today, miserably. But thankfully, the presence of God doesn't depart from me based on the merit of my behaviors or attitude. The measure of my patience is out of step with the measure of His for me. Tomorrow I will wake up and I will resolve again to do my very utmost to love my children and be the mother they need for me to be. Only I won't be able to do it on my own strength. The wonderful thing is that I don't have to. Grace, Forgiveness, Mercy, Wisdom, these things are in limitless supply from the one who abides with me.
I will awake to my responsibilities anew, and with fresh determination I will throw myself into this business of being a mama. Together we will cut paper hearts and eat cupcakes, make mistakes and have meltdowns and I will write them letters of love from the bottom of my heart that they cannot understand at this age. Because I have first been given a love that I cannot fully understand, and it is abiding with me....always.
 |
| photo by husband. |
I haven't really knit in earnest since I was about 8 years old and I was taught how on a set of pencils by my step-nanny.
I've always enjoyed the rhythm and feel of crocheting instead and I've dabbled in a bunch of those projects over the last year and put off knitting because ...well it's hard and intimidating and I had no one to really show me how.
I took my needles and yarn with me last week to the local library and spent a humbled but blissful hour being shown the ropes by some very talented and lovely ladies.
I have discovered in only the two weeks that I have taken up the craft there are two secrets to learning to knit. Holding the yarn properly and having other people around you who knit and know what they're doing.
They are honestly the nicest, most enthusiastic and a little quirky ladies I've met in a long time and I am so pleased to know them and have them teach me.
Tuesday is fast becoming one of my favorite days of the week and I am finding it none too difficult to practice at least one hour a day. I'm working on getting my tension right and not dropping or adding stitches and so far so good. But also a little boring so tonight at the library I asked Paula (the lovely group facilitator who teaches textile arts for special needs kids at the local high school, is working on getting her ham radio license and wears fabulous hats) to help me get started with this pattern.
 |
| Isn't that gorgeous?It's from"Instant Expert Knitting" by Ros Badger and I picked up this book a couple years ago second hand the last time I thought I'd give knitting a try and didn't. |
It claims to be a beginner pattern and I think I might be able to figure it out with all the help I can get. Nancy (another expert knitter in the group who cards, spins and dyes her own wool) offered to help me any time if I stop by her yarn and fabric shop (she also teaches classes on spinning wool...oh my, wouldn't that be exciting!). Anyway I'm now 10 rows in and loving it, although I took this picture earlier today when I was still working on boring dishcloths because that's when the light was in my living room.
 |
| I'm working on a basic garter stitch on size 4 bamboo needles with this yummy blue yarn I picked up at the thrift store. It's so soft and stretchy it puzzles me that someone would part with it, but their loss is my gain. |
Anyway, I'm thrilled to be back here with Ginny from Small Things for Yarn Along (a place for readers and knitters to share what they're up to). I'm with a new blog and it's been a long time but it feels good and my hands are getting the hang of both needles faster than I thought they might, so hopefully next week, I'll have more to show.
Oh and for books, it was a ton of fun earlier today to quiet my kids squabbling at each other with this book that I also loved at their age, "The Sweater" retold by Jim Ayelsworth. I clearly remember my kindergarten class reading it and doing projects based on it (though an older version). I think there was even a flannel board involved( be still my five-year-old heart).
Tis the season for citrus and I am loving it let me tell you. I sadly realized while in conversation with my sister (it's amazing how many revelations I have in conversation with those blessed sisters of mine) that I fall drastically short when it comes to recommended servings of fruits and vegetables. As a child, vegetables were my mortal enemy and I learned to swallow down the bites that were part of supper like pills with my glass or water. Fruit was hardly better. It always seemed mushy, bruised and overripe and because the rules were that a piece had to be picked and eaten from the fruit basket everyday, I'm afraid more often than not, the spotty bananas and brown apples met creative demises far from my mouth and digestive tract. (my stepmother still doesn't know to this day that they were often chucked over the back fence and their peels laid carefully in the garbage can to hide our deception).
So, fast forward 20 some years and here I am still wincing at the thought of munching down on the fruit bowl or the veggie crisper...
Alas my health is much better when I am consistently chowing down on carbs of the more complex variety and a change needed to occur.
"Just pick the few fruits or veggies that you do like and make sure to eat those every day" was my sister's advice and it was good advice. Besides I am actually allergic to a large selection of tree borne fruits and therefore what is available to me is slim pickins.
First on my list was grapefruit, I actually do enjoy it and because I eat it with a spoon there isn't any sticky fingers to deal with like there always is with oranges (which is also an issue with me left over from my childhood disdain of having messy hands...sigh)
Every morning these days, a grapefruit is sliced and sprinkled with just a touch of sugar, scored and then spooned up. It'd delightful. and just the fact that I'm starting the day off with fruit makes me feel good about myself. (and that's before I get into how much more water I now drink or the 1.4 miles I run every morning...yussss!)
And the kidlets have noticed too....unfortunately. My kids like many manners of fruit but they have also decided they like grapefruit and it's become a fight to get it all into my own body before they start pleading at my elbows with those giant eyes for a "red orange" of their own.
I have begun to hover protectively over my grapefruit because because let's face it, I am a sucker for those eyes and well what mother doesn't want to give her children more fruit...
I certainly don't want history to repeat itself, I want my children to want their fruits and veggies so I guess it's a good thing...although veggies is still a different story for the kids. Just last night their was battle to get my daughter to eat her zucchini and I was tempted to teach her the trick of swallowing it like a pill with her water...but I didn't. I shoveled it into her mouth while she screwed her eyes closed...and then gagged until it was finally chewed and swallowed, but it was chewed and swallowed so I guess that's what matters..
I dislike labels as much as the next person. There's a ton I've had to fight being put under and putting on myself.
I bristle at the idea of being coined as a "pack rat" and yet here I am trying to find a way to downsize my life by about half of what I own and it's no small task. I'm not a hoarder that's for sure, but I do have a tendency to hang on to stuff I really don't need to, and in conversation with my sister the other day, I came up with the reason why...unfortunately it's a label that fits.
I'm a just in case keeper. I keep all manner of useless things just in case. I have multiples of multiple things because, you never know when you'll need it again. But this is ridiculous because no one needs as many pyrex dishes as this woman's got. I did need them once upon a time when I was 8 months pregnant and went nuts filling my freezer with more casseroles than any family can really stomach...but since that time they're just taking up space. And that's space that I'm really not going to have in another year or so.
There's a freedom that comes with finally hauling out all the bits and sundry that are cluttering up the corners of my life, but there's an anxiety too and that's a problem....one I needed to get to the heart of.
Thankfully I am the child of a Heavenly Father who is in the business of getting right to the heart of me and his timing is impeccable. No sooner had I decided to join my husband in throwing our well- laid picket fence plans by the way side for the next five years than I picked up a devotional book by Priscilla Shirer that hits the ground running with a tough talk on contentment.
Now contentment is something I thought I had...but I don't think anyone with true contentment should be so anxious over getting rid of some baby clothes she doesn't need or feel like what she has already isn't enough. In fact, this statement from the book hit me pretty hard between the eyes.
" You can always tell people who operate from a position of perceived lack and deficiency. They're stingy with their time. They're selfish with their resources. They're tight fisted with their energy. They're reluctant to sow of themselves into the lives of others because they're afraid they don't have enough to it with and still have enough left over for themselves."
ummm...ouch. Excuse me while I crawl out of view...because yes, that is all too often me in spades. And I'll tell you why....
Because here I am agonizing over getting rid of some bins of baby clothes and I am right now fully aware of FOUR brand new babies that are going to be coming into this world just shy of two months from now, needing exactly what I have stashed away in my basement for some imagined just in case scenario.
A page earlier Priscilla had hit me with this as well,
" The more you believe that God's grace to you is overflowing, the more you'll be convinced that you will always have everything you need. And the more certain you are that you'll never lack, the more willing and able you'll be to give of yourself and your resources when called for because you'll be certain God will always replenish your supply."
and how can I be sure that God's grace to be will overflow?
"God is able to make every grace overflow to you, so that in every way, always having everything you need, you may excel in every good work." (2 Corinthians 9:8).
Oh. That's how, it's right there in the Bible.
ahem.
So here's the way I'm looking at it... and this isn't to pat myself on the back. I share this because it has literally hit me with the profound truth of all of this...not because I somehow hold the corner on how this all plays out.
I don't need probably half of what I have.
Someone else needs some of what I have.
God wants me to use what I have for his glory not my own
If I don't have something it's because I probably don't really need it.
If I do have something it's because I probably need to help someone else with it somehow.
If I end up truly needing something else later on...God is able to fix me up...again....like He obviously already has.
I know it seems pretty simple but it can still be pretty hard to wrap my head around.
I'm not saying we all need to rid our homes of everything but toilet paper and water. Having things is not wrong, aquiring new things is not wrong... selling the old things instead of giving them away is not wrong...wanting things is not wrong....keeping things is not wrong.
What is wrong is hoarding things all to ourselves when really we will be so much freer if we just hand all those imagined just in case scenarios over to a Father who is able to supply them if they come to pass. What is wrong is being tight fisted and stingy and letting anxiety make us selfish.
and so now, my living room looks like it's thrown up....but you should see how clean my basement is.
1 Comment