It's the kind of day where I wish I had a witty opener, but I'm clean out of wit. And openers.
So I'll just summarize my last few days:
Home from Michigan late Thursday evening.
Spent all morning Friday at the hospital with C (and the other 2. Yay!) (the news wasn't great)
Stayed in Friday night. (tacos for dinner)
Breakfast in bed Saturday courtesy of my people (overdue from my birthday) (don't even ask about that)
Road-trip to Muncie to hang with some of our favorite people.
Then there was church. We went to say goodbye to heart-and-soul friends, to pray them into their big move to Kenya, so I expected some tears because that's just the kind of girl I've become - a teary one. What I didn't expect was to repeatedly talk myself off an emotional ledge throughout worship. I could not swallow down the lump in my throat. I thought I might puke. It was the strangest feeling and I kept thinking, Is this the Holy Spirit? Why would he make me puke?
I was so caught between the newness of all His mercies and my love for my friend Nicki and her family. I was pulled between that swelling feeling of Christ's love made known and gripping fear for my child.
I was afraid for Calvin. It hits me sometime.
I won't bog you down with details, but please keep praying for our boy. I hate the way these things sneak up on us... one night we're watching Chopped in the sketchiest motel ever...the next day, we're burnt toast. It makes me mad and sometimes it makes me cry.
Tonight it just makes me tired. It makes me pouty that we have to go back tomorrow. It makes me feel sorry for myself that we keep missing out on normal summer. It makes me ache for my dude, who just wants to lay around the house a while and go swimming and ride his bike.
So we pulled over.
Flowers are my love language, didn't you know?
They make any day better.
I forget in the in-between that he's always worst in Summer. Every year it snatches me from behind and it makes me so mad, to have to remember. In the words of Rusty, it all feels like a big, dang gyp.
There's just no other way.
We have to promise to notice when things turn around.
We have to not get scared. Mama has to not get scared.
30 minutes at the garden did us all a world of wonder.
I'm laughing so hard at this picture. People, this is the real, raw deal. This is me, looking like a ghoul, Ruby looking manic, Silas looking...strained.
It's okay, you can laugh, too.
Just understand that my life is even weirder than I let on. And we'll leave it at that.
Cory offered to fix my under-eye circles, but that felt like too slippery a slope for my current state of mind. Before you know it, I'd end up looking like this.
Calvin rallied and willingly moved around in an upright position for the first time in two days.
(I take a lot of pictures, but when we're all out together, I leave it to the pro.)
So these glorious flowers and the fact that I've retained a shard of perspective and joy are all courtesy of the Bearded One. Only now, he's whittled it down to a goatee, and I'm good with that. As Robert said, "It's a step in the right direction."
Our garden walk helped snap us all back into focus and the rest of our evening was productive and swell.
The flowers, they'll fix you.