I Love You

For the first time ever, my son who doesn't say much of anything, who has been diagnosed with a speech disorder, told me that he loved me.  I heard the words "oove you mom".  My heart melted and I crawled into bed next to my red-haired batman and cried.  I have been waiting for so long to hear my son say those words to me, and they came when I needed them the most.

 I had spent the day crying hysterically because my husband is taking a trip to Salt Lake to attend a funeral.  I know that so many of you are used to your spouse’s going on trips, but I am not and I can't like it!  I have to drive him and his mother to the airport...this is unacceptable for me.  He wanted me to come and bring the boy, but I just haven't got enough strength built up yet to withstand another funeral.  So I cried, and cried, and cried some more...like women are apt to do.  I cried myself right into a migraine...and while putting my son to bed as I normally do, after I tell him that I love him...I turn to go and I hear those simple words that I have longed to hear for so long.  My migraine didn't go away, my husband is still going, but my little boy said "oove you mom".

This simple phrase has the power to change lives, knit families together, and fill mommy’s hearts.  That day it had the power to pull me out of my pit of darkness and back into the light in seconds.  If only we could all see the value that this simple phrase has.  How 3 simple words can mean so much as to pull a person back from the brink of hell.  It is a stream of light in a dark world, and why do we not give it freely?  Why must we bury it in the ground as the servant who was given only 1 talent did?  When we pull it out it hasn't grown, it hasn't multiplied magically, and we cannot approach our Lord and say I have given freely the love you gave to me and it grew so large that my very being was enveloped in your very essence.  Just as money and gifts must be used to become greater, so it is with love...and it is so easy to give, as it takes nothing from you to give it to another, and giving it makes you stronger.

Everyone’s life is filled with trials, and troubles, and dark places.  We all need help at times, and having been in circumstances where all another person can do for you is give you love; I can say for certain that love saves lives.  Love, support, and kindness can truly mean the difference between life and death.

 Here's to I love you's, may we use them more freely than we do.  May we all end up with more love than we know what to do with.  May we espouse the hymn:

 "Savior, may I love my brother, as I know thou lovest me, Find in thee my strength, my beacon, for thy servant I would be.  Savior may I love my brother, Lord, I would follow thee."

The In-Between

Since the hospital I divide things up in two categories; before the hospital and after the hospital.  I have noticed that as long as I don't apply before to after my life remains in check...at least for the most part.  There are routines that are set for me and have remained from before to after, like Casey’s school routine, and my cleaning routine.  But how these are accomplished has changed a lot.  My ability to focus on one task is highly diminished, and I waste a great deal of time going from one place to another with no real reason or goal in mind.  Someone will ask me what I am doing..."well it is Monday so I am cleaning Casey's room"...oh, so why do you have comet and a toilet brush and you are standing in the loft?  I remember starting to clean her room, but I haven't the foggiest how I ended up in this situation, but I am sure there has to be a logical chain of events that lead me here now.

I am already aware that I am broken, in pieces on the floor, but I can't be a cup anymore...I have to learn to be something new.  I know in my heart that God is attempting to form me into Royal Doulton, but my mind keeps screaming "WHY?!  I was just fine being the ceramic coffee cup!"  And this learning to live again is killing me.  This is not the first time that I have had to relearn how to live, and had to walk away from the wreckage and not look back.  I didn't have anything to look back and weep for then, but now I do.  My family has happily placed themselves next to me ready to get moving forward again, while I cast my eyes behind to see a woman weeping over a broken coffee cup.  I can't go back to her and she can't come forward to me, and it becomes the parting scene between Kirk and Spock.  "The ship out of danger?...yes, you saved the ship!  The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few...or the one.  I have been and always shall be your friend...live long and prosper".  And I watch as she picks up those chunky pieces that were once a well-worn cup and walk away where I can no longer go.  All I want are those pieces back, because I'm sure that with enough of the right glue they will stay together without breaking again and again.  My heart tells me what I know to be true, put that cup back together, but I really want to try!

I feel caught between the new and the old, and I'm frustrated about this.  I'm anxiety ridden with panic attacks when I pee, and I quickly become impatient.  I have a handful of pills to take in the morning, a handful of pills to take at night, and Valium to carry with me.  My life has become an in-between; I'm caught and can't get out.  I want so badly to go back to being happy and loving what I do, but the hospital changed me.  Satan broke what I loved into little pieces and continues to mock my loss.  God spent 5 days reforming what was broken, but I'm still learning how to be what I am now.  I was reformed in love; complete and total unconditional love...without interruption or distraction.  I know God made me stronger, but I suppose any gain must come with a loss.

I can say that I have become content and resigned to losing everything I knew before.  I feel uneasy and unsure, but I am content to be what God has made me.  I live my life with a dog at my side and usually some form of chaos around me.  I take breaks, I breathe, and I am.  People ask how I am doing...I'm not too sure, but I know I am alive and I'm content to be that for now.  I try to immerse myself in what is around me, in my responsibility...my house and my children and my parents.  In that immersion there is a form of peace, it is quiet and fleeting, but it is there.  I cherish the small moments; like my son sleeping on me and drooling into my cleavage at my nephew’s baptism. My husband laughed at me and smiled.  I watch my daughter dance, and learn, and fight to survive.  I would be better to take a page out of her book:  she dances without a care, and she is in a constant state of learning, open to new things, without prejudice or expectation.  And she fights; fights to live, fights convention, and fights restraint.  She will stand right at the front of the battle our children will have against Satan.

Here's to the in-betweens, here's to learning to live again, and here's to walking into the future with hope.  May we all learn to be content with where we are and what we have.