Afraid to Hope

I've been through this before....nursing a dying lizard back to health.  Last time, although we tried, we prayed, we went to the vet - we were unable to save my middle son's leopard gecko.

Back then...we were nervous when we walked into the vet, but when I asked in a hushed whisper, so my son could hardly hear, "So, do you think he's gonna die?"  The vet responded, "No, he should be fine.  This is fairly common."  We were hopeful.  Confident.

When Stripe (the first lizard) died, my son said he wanted to wait awhile before having another one.  He waited about 9 months before he thought he was ready.  Jackson loves lizards.  Actually, he loves all living things.  He has a connection to the inner beatings of creatures.  He is the most himself when he's outside in the forest or digging in the ground...anything God created, Jackson loves.

So, when he said to me a few weeks ago, "Mom, something's wrong with Norbert (the new lizard).  I think he's sick.  You have to take him to the vet," I couldn't help but feel the injustice of it all.  Jackson coos over this lizard, feeds it, turns it's lights on and off.... He does every single thing we were told to do to care for Norbert.

Turns out...we didn't have all the information.  We hadn't been caring for him as well as we should have been. Jackson was scared.  And - Jackson was livid, because in his words, "All the pet store cares about is the money.  They don't care about the pets."  Hard to argue with that.

I took this little bearded dragon to the exotic pet vet where he received a shot, a bath, an eye treatment, calcium, and a super-duper vitamin boost.  I was 'taught' how to syringe feed him at home.  How to bathe him and help him shed.  How to give him calcium and put ointment on his eye.  How to rub his belly to help him poop (Yup - the things a mom will do for her children).

As Jackson watched me do all these things, he said, "It's worse than I thought, Mom."  Hmmm....me too.

"Is he going to die?" he asks.

"Oh, Jackson, I don't know.  It's 50-50.  It's a precarious situation.  We'll do everything we possibly can but there's no guarantees."  I didn't want to promise him anything.

Every day we've been going through this regimen.  And...he's been getting better.  At first, I didn't say anything about it to Jackson.  I didn't want him to start to hope and then have his hopes dashed.

Jack eventually noticed and said, "I think h'es getting better."

"Yes, it looks that way.  But...don't get you're hopes up too much.  You never know," was my response.

But Norbert is getting better.  He ate live food yesterday - crickets dusted with calcium.  I've begun to hope myself.  And, I've begun to realize..what is life without 'hope'?  And why did I try to take that away from Jackson?  If we hope, we may get hurt.  But if we don't hope, our hearts still may break.

Hope doesn't guarantee...but hope is what hanging onto life is all about.

Am I afraid to hope still?  Maybe.  Maybe in many, many areas of life we all are a bit afraid to hope.  Discovering what it means to hope is probably about as close as we get to discovering what it really means to live.

Come on, Norbert!  We're all hoping and praying for you.

Trash or Treasure

I'm moving. Moving...
It still sounds strange for me to say it.

But, I'm actually not moving yet...because I have to pack.

I'm packing.  Packing, packing, packing...at least I am trying to.
I'm not so good at packing because I am not a pack-rat.  I do not by my very nature keep things that I do not think I need.  Most things I own because in some ways they are special to me.

So, when I sat down this afternoon to go through the FIVE large shopping bags filled with artwork my children made... WOW!

That may be all I can say- WOW!  I looked at all their 'All About Me' books from pre-school and their hand-print turkey pictures and their funny chalk self portraits.

I don't need this stuff...it's been in my closet for years and I haven't peeked at it, but oh, did my heart just swell.  Swell with happiness when I thought about how Cooper used to want to be an astronaut; swell with longing for those tiny baby dimples of Carter's; swell with joy at the "You are the Best" cards from Jackson.  And then I saw this scrap...this tiny scrap that I had saved and I remembered it immediately.

It was just a piece of computer paper, with two red stick figures, standing by a little yellow stick figure baby.  Above it were 3 blue candles and 1 pink candle.  And I remembered this picture.  I remembered the day that Cooper brought me this picture and gave it to me with a huge smile on his face.  And he told me to hang on the fridge, because that's where all the best art goes.

That was a day when I knew that God had been working in Cooper's life and I didn't even know it.  That was a day when the Spirit was manifest and I thought, "Oh - this may be what being a mom is all about....a scrap of paper, a few crayons, a giant smile, an outstretched hand with a gift just for me."

If I'm being honest...I almost have tears in my eyes now.

I need that picture.

I can't recycle it.  I must pack it up and take it to our new home.  There are many of those pieces of art which will not make the journey (because, let's be honest...I really only need one bag - not five!).  But I think, that scrap may find a new home...

It's a home we don't know yet, but I have a feeling that when I hang that picture up it'll feel a bit more like home.

But, in the meantime - I will have to continue to pack...maybe I will find more treasures.

The Look of Love

Lately I've felt my oldest son pulling away...this doesn't really bother me because I know he supposed to do it.  And - he still talks to me - sorta.  And every once in awhile he'll send me a text that's a smiley face or something  - so I know we're good.

Today he and I were in the car alone together and I was goofing around with him.  I said something like, "Oh, you know Bud, this is what mom's do.  We are supposed to act silly and embarrass you.  It's just because I love you."

He rolled his eyes.

I continued talking about an idea I had to do at church...something I thought he would like.  Something I thought was "cool" enough for him...

He laughed and rolled his eyes.

I teasingly said, "You used to not roll your eyes at me, you know?  You used to snuggle me and look at me like you loved me."

He rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, Mom, don't worry - this is just the new way I look at you to tell you that I love you."

Then he rolled his eyes again and went back to looking out the window.

I'm glad he said that.  I didn't need to hear it, really.  He and I have a fun relationship and most of the time I look at him and think he's amazing.  But, I'm glad he said it to remind me (and himself) that love looks very different and varying points in our lives.  And not one of them is better than the other - just different.  And harder to appreciate sometimes.

The look of love - look for it, you may find it in unexpected places...like in a van on the way to a birthday party.

An Amazing Time

Recently I ran the Boston Marathon, which has been a dream of mine since the 10th grade.  When I returned many, many people asked me, "How was the race?"

My response was almost always something to the effect of:
"It was GREAT!  My time wasn't that great though.  I ran 8 minutes slower than my usual marathon pace."

And then I proceeded to talk about how exhilarating it is to stand at the start line with 25, 000 other runners, to run the oldest marathon around, to struggle and conquer Heartbreak Hill(s), to spend the weekend with one of my best friends, to have a chance to relax....

It isn't often that I wake up and know that today a dream will be fulfilled.

One time I went through this - reliving all the amazing pieces of my marathon experience and ended it with, "So, it was great even if my time wasn't."

The person responded, "Sounds to me like your 'time' was amazing."

Hmm...that's right.  That is spot on, I thought.  My time was amazing.  Bookend life with that...you can't actual quantify 'time' if you look at it that way.

So, yes, I was a bit slower - chalk it up to really steep hills or taking in the scenery.  Whatever.  I had an amazing time.

Running with Sticks

When my oldest son was young, I was the careful mom.  My son looked cute - all the time.  I always had a spare diaper, some nutritious snacks, and made sure he followed the rules.  Among the rules was: No Running with Sticks!

Seriously...if he ran with a stick, he could trip, and then he could fall, and then he could impale himself in the eye with a stick, and therefore he would be blind for the rest of his life.  No running with sticks.

Then, I had another son, and another...and my rules get less and less strict.  I dressed my kids less and less matchy-match - and basically hoped they had clean underwear.  And...we ate whatever was in the house.

Now...my oldest is, um - gulp, almost a teenager.  I hear him talking about girls - he texts all the time - doesn't talk too much anymore either.  And I thought I needed to worry about him running with sticks.

There don't seem to be any rules for this...I gotta let him run.  It's scary though.

Running with sticks, or lightsabers, or sword fighting sure doesn't seem like a big deal anymore.

Freefall

The other evening I went for a bike ride... The previous few days had been incredibly busy and I needed a stress release.  Normally I run...it's definitely my first choice when it comes to letting it all go.  However, there is an aspect of biking that doesn't happen much with running.

It's the freefall.  You know, the point where you ride up this huge hill - pushing, straining, laboring.... and then on the other side, when you reach the summit - there it is: the freefall.  I love this!

I pause just before letting my pedals go - just so I am ready to take in the rush of air, the speed, the freedom, the weightlessness.  For  me that feeling I get is how I envision "freedom in the LORD".  It's purely living.  Worrying about nothing.  Doing nothing wrong - enjoying everything right.

The one other time I have this same sense of weightlessness is during the last 5 minutes of church.  When I used to sit in the congregation, I waited for this part.  I knew it was coming and I would relax my shoulders, breathe deeply, shut my eyes, and wait...for the weightlessness when I heard:

"Now may the LORD bless you and keep you.  May the LORD make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you.  May the LORD look upon you with favor and give you peace."

Ahhh....freedom.  Really - it's my favorite part.  And it really does feel like a rush for me.

It's the sun shining, spirit blowing, and the hand of God all rolled into one...
Go ahead....let it go.  God's got your back.

Pink Toes

If you are a man, you may have a hard time relating to this post.

The surest sign that Spring is on it's way: No Empty Pedicure Chairs!
That's exactly what I found the other day when I arrived at the nail salon.  It was my day off and I had been looking forward to this little treat I had planned for myself for two weeks.  It was one of the things I kept looking forward to when I was knee deep in the muck and muddle of life (muck and muddle=need for prettied up toes).

I hadn't ordered the beautiful, sunny 60 degree day, but I sure was thankful for it.  A whole lot of other people were thrilled too....they all went to get pedicures.  Pinks, reds, purples....all sorts of colors.  All colors screaming Spring.

It was as if all the toes of the world were thankful to strip off the ugly boots and thick socks they had been wearing all Winter.  Spring had arrived...and even the toes were ready.

As I sat there, reading and relaxing I listened to the chatter going on around me - some in English, some in languages unknown to me.  What I heard in everyone's voices was excitement.  Excitement for warmth and sunshine.  Longing and hope hung in the air.  Longing for the freedom of days gone by - days running barefoot through the backyard grass, of wiggling toes in dirt.  And hope that those days might return again.

If you've sat in a pedicure chair, you know that most people mind their own business, at least I do.  It's my time to not speak to a soul.  I didn't speak to anyone on this day either.  Yet, we each sat on the precipice of that same hope.  We sat in our chairs, with our naked toes being clothes in bright colors, looking out onto the horizon of better days.

What's your color gonna be...because better days are on their way.