Sunday, September 22, 2013

Sunday Morning Flares

Sunday mornings are always times of great reflection.  The house is quiet.  The coffee is steaming.  And my 'Elevation Worship' Pandora station is on...just loud enough to where I can hear the words.

My mind - yes, the 200mph one - gears up for the service we'll head off to. And the fun things we'll do as a family, even if that means simply watching tv together. Basically, Sundays are my favorite days :-)

...which is probably why this Sunday started out a little too sappy for the likes of me.

See, I've got this pesky flare that doesn't want to let go quite yet.  I have to say ms is definitely an interesting condition.  I mean, not everyone can say they have stabbing pains in their shins, vibrations in their feet, electric shocks in their face...and could seriously just sleep through every bit of that.  MS is the condition that loves me back.  Why just last night, I got a hug from it - in my chest.  I stood there for a moment and wondered if that squeezy pain was cardiac in nature, because I never felt that near my heart before.  But?  I decided I was too tired to go to the hospital.  I literally thought in my mind, "if this is a major medical emergency, I'm seriously too tired to have it."  This.  This is what 2 weeks worth of constant-yet-random pains will do to my mental capacity.

You all feel me.

Fast forward to Sunday morning.  Today, the present tense.  First day of fall - or 'autumn' for the proper folks - my favorite season.  Steaming coffee.  Gentle, chilly breeze outside.  But...I'm worn down by these shooting pains.  Feeling so over it all.  Bending my head down to see if the L'hermittes sign is any better.  Meh.  Maybe a little, it all blends together right now.  Feeling annoyed.  Actually, feeling like I don't have much tolerance left.  Asking God when this will be over with because it's not fitting very well into my life.  Asking if I can please hurt tomorrow in lieu of today, because COME ON!  Sunday is my favorite day!  Click 'play' on the worship station and try to focus my mind on what's most important.  And hear the following:

"...all who hurt with nothing left, will know that You are holy.  And all will sing out hallelujah!"

Enter that awkward moment when you try to fight the fact that your eyes are doing that waterish thing.  Sniffling.  Swallow down that giant lump in throat.  I'm so not crying...until I hear:

"Shout it.  Go on and scream it from the mountains.  Go on and tell it to the masses.  That He is God..."

Enter full on tears.  Staring down into coffee, quickly looking up so as not to get tears in it and water down the caffeine.  Finding that, suddenly, I have a little more 'tolerance'.  I realize that today is going to be another painful day.  But in a few minutes, my family will be awake and carrying on about their morning with no idea that mommy was absolutely and completely losing her stuff just before they came downstairs.  The basset hound knew, because he tried to lay on my foot and I was all, "seriously???  Do you not know I have a knife in that ankle and my foot is vibrating like a lawn mower?"  Poor dog.  Looking at me as if I'm an extra special kind of crazy.

:::deep breath:::

I will sing it in my heart.  He is God.  He is my strength and my comfort.  I can do all things through Him...

And now I'm called to settle a disagreement between my kids.  See?  I really don't have time to devote to medical issues.

Be blessed, people.  Know that I lift all of us up when I ask the Lord for a little extra measure of physical tolerance today.  Because I do...


Sunday, September 15, 2013

My kids.  Oh how I treasure them...

Sometimes, I wish others could see what I see in them.  Or know what I know of them.

Like how my very quiet and shy daughter wakes up early every single day so that she can help with housework.  What she doesn't finish in the morning, she takes care of when she gets home from school.  No one knows this, because she never complains about it.  To her, it's simply a humble, loving service to her mother.

Like how my outgoing, charming son reaches for my hand every time we're walking somewhere together.  He's taken on mocking stares and has had comments thrown his way for it.  "Mama's boy" and assorted jokes about how he should "be a man".  He doesn't care.  He smiles at me, reaches out and says, "gimme that hand".  It's not that some of those comments don't sting a's just that he puts me before himself.

What I see in my kids is resiliency, strength, and perseverance.

They've seen me fall.  Bad.  They've witnessed the nasty reactions to my shots.  They've watched me go through flares.  They've wondered why I was blinking repeatedly and not realized it was all because I couldn't see them very well.  They've experienced my intense struggles with knock down/drag out migraines.  They've heard me sliding myself down the stairs in the middle of the night in the attempts to drive myself to the ER.

What I know of my kids is their compassion and their strong faith in the Lord.

Because each time they've seen me fall, they've come to see if I was alright. Each time they saw me flat on my back after taking a shot, they sat with me in support.  Each time I've come down with a migraine, they've tucked me into bed.  My son even gave me his most prized, stuffed dinosaur from his days of toddlerhood during a particularly nasty migraine.  It's name is "The Headache Dinosaur" and it takes away my pain.  Why?  Because my son said it does.  That's why.  And, as he places my Headache Dinosaur next to me with each headache, he always says, "God will get you through this..."

Sometimes, others do catch a glimpse of what I see in them.  What I know of them.

Like when someone tells me about a beautiful lesson my daughter prepared for discussion during a chapel event at school.  And how she has chosen specific scriptures to share with her classmates as reminders of God's love and faithfulness.

:::I cry:::

Like when a coach tells us that our son was referred to as "everybody's favorite player" during his hockey draft.  And his skills are not at all what they're referring to.  Or how a mother of an opposing, female soccer player tells me that my son is a gentleman, because he softened his play as they both battled for the ball.

:::I cry:::

Because that.  That is the kind of man we are striving to raise.  Let's face it, the recreational soccer league is really just not that important in the grand scheme of life.  The way he conducts himself is.

Keep shining the light of Christ in all you do, kids.  Do it all to His glory.  No matter what this crazy life throws at all of us in this anyone who may come across this silly post..."God will get you through this".  Whatever "this" may be.

He's got it.  He never fails.  Never.