A Spring of Joy

One year ago today, my journey through treatment and healing began, and tonight I lie sleepless, tossing and turning. My mind is haunted with the mixture of emotions, memories, fears, struggles, and most of all, gratefulness for how much God has provided and protected in our home. So, please forgive my random thoughts as I try to make sense of their jumbled musings…

What is your only comfort in life and in death?

Last night our little family curled together in the middle of the hallway floor. Yes, the hallway floor. (I love impromptu moments like that!) Ash leaned his long form against Brian’s shoulder while Audrey snuggled in her Daddy’s arms. Micah folded up next to me with his head in my lap, and we prayed together for Asher’s first day of school. Later, after all three were tucked under their comforters, Ash emerged.

Waking up to the sounds of my little girl playing in her crib. Listening to Brian’s gentle breathing as he sleeps next to me. Hearing the soft footfalls of my Bear’s sleepy steps up to our loft to join me in my quiet moments watching the sun. Turning my ear to the whisperings of the Holy Spirit as I prepare to join the body of Christ in worship on this day. Knowing I will spend the afternoon with my family, resting, laughing, enjoying each other and enjoying all that God has created this day of rest to be. This is how I begin my morning. And I am blessed.

“That desk is so big.” My mind reeled as we walked into his school room last night at the Welcome Back Student Picnic. “He’s much too small for that.” Ash whirled around his new classroom, brown eyes taking everything in. “Look, Mom! There’s fish! And here’s the reading corner. And here’s where I will hang my coat and put my lunchbox. And here’s my desk.” He climbed in and sat down. And lo and behold! That little body fit perfectly in that much too big desk.

For that one of you who might perhaps be disillusioned into thinking life always goes smoothly in our home, let me paint a mental picture for you.

My two youngest were outside alone for a total of two minutes. Two minutes. I headed outside to check on them, and what to my wandering eyes should appear? But the bare backside of my son who was relieving himself in the woods next to our home. His sister was amazed. She was especially enraptured with how high he could make the arc of liquid stream. Then he decided it would be fun to twist and turn and water the leaves all around him. Unfortunately, his sister was in the line of fire, and her amazement turned to terror when she was doused head to toe in said liquid stream. She turned, saw my arrival and commenced screaming at the top of her lungs, “Mommmeeeee! I am yuckeeeeee! Yuckeeeee on meeeeee!”

New beginning.
“We’ll name her Angela.”

New steps.
“Wake up, sweetie. It’s your first day of school!”

New freedom.
“I passed my driver exam.”

New heartbreak.
“He broke up with me!”

New growth.
“Congratulations on your acceptance to JMU.”

New friend.
“Hi. I’m Brian.”

New love.
“Will you marry me?”

New journey.
“I do.”

New life.
“The EPT is positive.”

New grief.
“I’m sorry, we couldn’t find the heartbeat.”

New heartbeat.
“It’s a boy!”

New addition.
“It’s another boy!”

Yes, it’s Fair time again. Heapin’ doses of denim, boots, big hair, smelly animals, greasy food, sugar and unsafe rides. Oh my, that sounds so delightful, doesn’t it? So, why is it we love the Fair so much?

As I rocked Audrey that night, she made it abundantly clear what the answer is. She curled on my lap and talked non-stop. I’ll let her words tell you all about it.

“Went to da Faay-er! Audee wide howa-seees (the carousel)! Mommy hold ME! I wide in cawr-a wiff bow-eyes (boys)!

We eat fway-nch fwies ay-nd FWUNNEL CAY-AKE! Pet baya-by duckies!

I watched the hypnotic flash of blue lights in front of us and listened to the monotonous sound of hazard lights clicking on and off. Cars moving slowly in single file through the streets following the police car that led us to the cemetery. Daddy was a pall-bearer, so we rode ahead of the hearse that carried the body of dear Lillian. Cars around slowed, pulled over, stopped. A moment of respect, then they picked up and moved on. Some cars didn’t even stop, either not noticing or not caring. They had a life to live, things to do, places to go. Couldn’t they see the hurt that rode next to them? Or did they not know what they should do with it?

My mom took the kids and me to Chick-fil-A last week. After consuming large quantities of chicken and fruit cups, we made our way into the playroom for a whopping good time that turned into a nightmare. There were three siblings in there with mine. Two boys and a girl whose parents sat outside not supervising their children and enjoying their milkshakes. I felt the rush of anger and self-righteousness as I watched their kids disobey every rule posted. Climbing where they shouldn’t be climbing, running, etc. It got worse when they began pushing, hitting, pinching, and screaming.

Could it really be one year?! This post was originally published on August 11, 2007.

Last night I held my kids a whole lot tighter before they went to bed. As I snuggled with Bear, I thought about how he climbs into bed with us every so often afraid of the monster in the shadows of his room. He’s had a lot of fear for a 3-year old… recurring nightmares about a mean girl dressed in white who comes up from the floor in his room. I’ve held him so many times and told him there’s no such thing as monsters and that even if there were, his Daddy is big and strong and he’d take care of that mean ol’ monster. Then he smiles contentedly and goes off to his room feeling safe for a while.