Last night I was working on a lesson I will be teaching tomorrow for a church thing. Family relations. I am an expert in what not to do, so I guess it qualifies me to teach. As I sat at the computer working away, Guy put shoes on nearly a dozen feet and headed off to baseball practice with the kiddos. As he kissed me good bye and shuffled little ones out the door, I jokingly called out, "No broken bones, please!"
Approximately one half of one hour later, Guy surprised me by walking in the door, far too early to be back from practice.
"Guess what?" he said dryly.
Ellie trailed in behind him holding her arm, face beat red and tear streaked, horrible noises coming from her chatter box.
"Oh, you're kidding me." (My ultra intelligent response to calamity). "What did she...?"
"...jungle gym." Guy stated. Of course.
Well, last week we had spirited Adam to the ER rather hurriedly. I decided while we were there that I had been hasty. Not that I wouldn't have taken him, just that I would have waited a few more minutes for him to calm down so that I could see what we were really dealing with. So I sat Ellie down with a bag of frozen corn and some arnica (our miracle bruise cream, ask me about it anytime, I should be the company spokesperson...) and my mother's ancient, tattered copy of Little House in the Big Woods.
Two chapters later, it was clear that no bones were broken, and that an ace bandage and some love would be just what the mama ordered. What a blessing. Really, I have spent way too much time in doctors offices lately.
And way too much time at my pitty party. The company (me) is getting old. So I feel like making a list of my blessings right now. Here I go:
Ellie's smile. I'm so glad it's not broken (it = arm, not it = smile, but I'm glad her smile is not broken, either!).
The kids at 3:15. So far, 5 days in a row, all smiles after school.
Guy with a cotton ball taped to his arm. He is taking on all the testing we now need to do after so many miscarriages without a complaint. When he came home with that cotton ball taped to his arm after his blood test, I felt like he had brought me flowers.
Unlimited access to our neighbor's pool. No explanation needed.
My kind friends. How could I survive being in my head all day with out a phone break with one of them? Or several?
Ice cream: Legal narcotic. Not against the Word of Wisdom.
Ellen's hands. She and I bartered for an art/massage trade. It's massage, it's therapy, it's friendship. It's bliss. If there were chocolate involved I would find no need to pursue a glorified afterlife.
Scriptures that fall open to a whole chapter that was written thousands of years ago, just for me. (Job 5). Thanks, Job.
Hand me downs. When we had all these kids we knew we would have to provide for them. I am so blessed to receive hand me downs for them to start school, and that they don't care at all that the clothes aren't new.
Prayer, even when I'm not getting answers.
Tessa's adoration of me. I have never had a child be so in love with her mama. She gets high on rubbing her face on my skin. Seriously, it's like she is stoned, she loves it so much. "Mama, you so wahm!" she croons. She heals me.
Silly hats at dinner to celebrate a new school year, complete with sparkling cider and pinkies held aloft, "dahling!". Life needs to be fun again.
My helpful husband. He knows he can't take away my trials, so when things are hard he steps it up a notch to help me deal. I truly feel sorry for women who chose men that act like an extra child and choose not to help with the house and the kids.
Past trials making current ones a little easier to bear and to understand. Just another egg. And one less trip to the hospital.