How I Dealt With My Child's Chronic Illness

I was crying.  

It was becoming more often and I didn't know what to do.  My baby boy was diagnosed with a chronic illness and I felt helpless and afraid. Terrified, actually, and desperate.  Desperate for life to go back to what it was before, to end what was so unfair for him and to be able to protect him like a mommy should.  

I had prayed about it, said all the right things, done all the research.  I became a diabetes fanatic, checking his blood sugar around the clock, documenting, finding trends, searching for anything that would make it better.  This uninvited guest stayed and with every finger poke and insulin shot my boy was a trooper. I was falling down a dark hole, jealous of other moms who didn't have to endure this, mad at the world because they didn't understand, but mostly it was the despair that circled me round and round like a slow tornado, tripping me up, making me feel helpless and guilty that I couldn't make him better.

I cried and worried and prayed in the middle of the night when no one would see. My sweet husband was asleep and he'd been through enough without me falling apart on him again. This particular night I frantically cried out to God in a way I'd ever done before, asking Him what to do, was my son going to be okay, how was he going to live like this for the rest of his life, would he even live a long life?  

And God answered.

In my flurry of thoughts and tears, my mind became still and silent and I heard:

'Don't you think I love him, too?'

Everything in me stopped.  My tears stopped.  Time stopped.  I sat up and looked around as my husband slept soundly.  I just had a miraculous moment but there was no one else there to witness it.  He had spoken to me as if He was in the room.  It's hard to explain, it wasn't verbal, but when you know that you know....it was Him and He had taken the time to speak to ME.

It was as if someone had gently taken me by my shoulders and shook me. I realized I had never truly turned over one problem to God, not this one, not any. The fact that He loved my son as much as I did, MORE than I did, had never dawned on me.  Which meant that my son had a Father and protector that was greater than anything that I could offer or imagine. He was all knowing and in control, and if I let Him, He would overcome my fears, my despair and any disease. He's got this and more importantly, He wanted the best outcome for my little guy even MORE THAN ME.  I still have a hard time wrapping my brain around it sometimes.

From that day forward, I slept soundly.  My despair was gone.  Of course, the fears would try to continue to creep in but those were always quieted with the memory of that moment.  God is not the author of fear. I knew that my son would be okay. 

If you are dealing with a child with an illness, or anything, for that matter...

Dig down deep, when you really think about it, you know that you know...

He loves them too. 

❤️, Elizabeth

That Time I Tried To Skip Father's Day - A Bear Tale

We are sitting in church when the pastor asked all the fathers to stand up to be recognized for Father's Day.  I'm gazing around the room, watching the humble, sweet dads standing, mostly wanting to sit back down and not draw attention to themselves.  Then there was this one.  He was standing with his head held high, actually, was he on his toes? Is he trying to stand taller than the rest? This dad was a proud one, he was.  Then I see his face which has the biggest grin.

It's The Bear.

 I lean over his brother to get closer to him and whisper in the 'mom' tone.  "Bear, sit down."

Bear: "No, mom.  I'm a dad."

Me: "You are NOT a dad, SIT DOWN."  He's ten. Why am I having to have this conversation?

Bear: "I am so a dad.  I'm ELLIE'S dad."  His grin got bigger and I know in his mind he was also thinking, Why am I having to have this conversation? And so there he stood with the rest of the fathers and, of course, was among the last to sit down. The fact that someone in the church that morning had given him a whole bag of twizzlers (which he gladly had eaten every piece) was evident.  He was in full Bear mode.

Being Father's Day, I'd been thinking of my dad and Bear's antics reminded me of a time my dad had told me he had also misbehaved in church.  His pastor would leave a written copy of his sermon on the pulpit before church began.  Dad and his friends really wanted to go swimming that day, so they 'misplaced' the sermon.  That was the quickest service they'd ever had and out they went to the pool. Hmmmmm. It must run in the family to be little stinkers.  At least Bear's stunt was over and it didn't result in church being dismissed.

Bear got up and walked to the back of the church as the preacher started his sermon.  I'm thinking bathroom break.  Then the mom vibe hit me and I look over and question his brother with my raised eyebrows. (His brother deserves a more proper introduction, but for now, he is my almost 20 year old sweetheart/prankster of a child, who at 6'2", I still call 'Little B'). 

Me: 'Bathroom?'

Little B grimly shakes his head.  We have this whole nonverbal conversation with eyebrows and eyes rolling and lifted shoulders.  Which could only mean one thing.  Troubles a-brewing.

Little B: 'See that block of sunlight on the wall behind the preacher's head?'

Me: 'Yes.'  I was starting to sweat.

B:  'He wanted to know if that came from the foyer window.  Then he left.'

I could only wait helplessly.  To give you a clearer picture of what was going on, there was a rectangle of sunlight shining through the window at least 4-5 feet tall just above the preacher's head on the wall behind him in the pulpit.  The congregation sees the outline of a window. Bear sees a great shadow puppet arena.

My little guy is a performer.  And perform, he must.

I could only sit in a panic and wait.

Soon I saw the huge shadow of his profile slowly walk by. 

Once.

Oh my.

Twice.

Oh dear. Please sit down...

Three times.

I held my breath.

I knew by the time I got to him the show would be over. I wanted to look away but it was the train wreck you had to watch.

The fourth time there is a little wave of a giant hand.

I smiled just a little.  Wait, what am I smiling at, this is soooo wrong.  And besides, I had already decided I was emotionally skipping out that day. Father's Day when cancer has stolen your father is just a day that you want to get over with as quickly as possible.  I was not going to smile, mister.   

Getting braver, the fifth time there was a giant dancing silhouette.  Shew.  There it was again, a little grin along with my terror.  Thank goodness it was a quick dance.  

Bear returned and both boys were quietly laughing and smiling from ear to ear.  And being the ever so inappropriate mom that day, I silently giggled with them. And then almost snorted. Soon I laughed inside so hard tears were forming and I was trying not to be so obvious as I shook up and down trying to hold it all in.  These kids had transformed me into a misbehaving teenager at the worst possible time.  I could do nothing to reprimand The Bear other than try to muster up the sternest look I could give him.  He triumphantly sat down.

I'm sorry to everyone in the church, I really am. 

While I was mourning and all caught up in death, my boys were celebrating life and I decided to join them.   

My dad would want it so. 

Daddy?!

Introducing.....The Bear

I've been struggling on how to properly introduce The Bear.  He's 10, and there's no description that fits this combo of blunt, wild and wonderful, other than maybe picture Jack Black meets Robin Williams with a dash of Charles Grodin all rolled into one child. There are so many stories I could tell but when I ran across this tribute I once wrote, I thought it may be the perfect way to give you a glimpse of a typical day of my life with The Bear.   

I think you're going to like him...

A MOM'S TRIBUTE

Thank you, Mr. Policeman, for not arresting me in Kroger parking lot, when, to my horror, my Bear yelled to you, 'HELP! I DON'T KNOW THIS WOMAN!'

Thank you, Mr. Fireman and company, who raced to my house to put out the nonexistent fire that was exaggerated by my Bear bursting out of the front door in his pajamas screaming, 'OVER HERE! THE FIRE IS OVER HERE!' when I had simply burned the zucchini.  No fire. Nope.

Thank you to my innocent friend, who never knew that my Bear had filled his water gun up from the toilet bowl when he shot you in the face, for your patience and apparently hardy immune system.

Thank you, elderly man in Kroger, (yes, a lot of things seem to happen at Kroger), for simply smiling at me in my time of exasperation when my Bear wouldn't listen.  I thought you were flirting with me in a subtle way (because I am usually only hit on by the 70-80 age range these days, if at all) but actually you were probably politely thinking that you may need to call for the manager because in my frenzy I was putting all my groceries into your cart.  Good times.

Thank you to the woman in your early 30s who has yet to figure out that your 'match' on Match.com is actually a 10 year old who has snuck onto the internet and created an account with some random guy's picture.  We'll just keep it our little secret. 

Lord, I pray that you give me reminders in my time of frustration with the Bear that one day I'll miss his antics.  I pray for patience and the ability to see the humor in all situations.   And that he always knows how much he is loved.

And peace, Lord.

Yes, Peace.  And Bacon.

Oh Lord, do I need a little peace.

Amen.

❤️, Elizabeth

Fostering a Child- How Not to Fall in Love

It was November 3rd.  She arrived to me in the social worker's arms in nothing but pink sweatpants and a blanket reeking of smoke, her eyes peeping out from under her wayward curls.  The bottom of her feet were so black with dirt it looked like she had played outside barefoot for a million years.  At 16 months old, you don't really care about that.

"I couldn't do it.  I couldn't let them go."

"Better you than me, my heart would be ripped in two if they went home."

Not a lot of people understood my willingness to take a chance of loving a foster child who might leave one day, but I dived in with all my heart. 

That little girl with the curly hair stayed for over a year, eventually calling my husband and me, 'Mommy and Daddy'.  She got used to being bathed everyday.  Her blanket had been washed.  She now refused to leave the house without a hairbow holding back her curls.  But, even after living with us several months, as we played at the park one day she dropped to the ground and tried to hide as she heard a police siren.  She had seen and heard a lot in her almost two years and we couldn't wash that away.

And then the call came.   Our time was over.  We loved her like she was ours but she wasn't. And yes, our hearts were broken and I think in ways hers was too.

Thankfully, we did see her again.  Our foster daughter came back to live with us at age 6.  She knew more than any child should and once again, she was sent back to where she came from after a year.   My youngest son forever told everyone he used to have a sister, but she ran away.  He knew the truth, but the run away part made a more dramatic story. (And he LOVES to make me look like a crazy lady). 

We had let our foster license lapse by the time she was put into foster care the third time but kept up with her situation as much as we could.   She is now a sweet, beautiful soon to be teenager and, despite not always living in ideal situations, she has grown into a strong person who makes wise decisions.

My plan was to adopt her and be hers forever, but sometimes my plan and God's plan are different.  I have to think that those years she was with us provided a glimpse of a normal life and maybe that was all our part was supposed to be.  God's plan for me was to give me two wonderful, VERY mischievous boys and I thank God they're mine.

Do you feel led to foster?  Your heart may never be the same but I can tell you, it will mend.

Or is there a different plan calling you that makes you feel uncomfortable?  But it keeps nagging you?  There are so many small ways to serve others that may be on your heart that isn't as big of a commitment as fostering but still.....it's inconvenient, it's time consuming, it's UNCOMFORTABLE. 

Do it anyway.

You'll get as much of a  blessing as the person you are serving.

How do you foster a child without falling in love? 

You don't. 

And that's okay. 

❤️, Elizabeth

The Lottery

I won the Lottery. 

And I still don't have the perfect wardrobe or house. Not great legs.  Not spiritually where I want to be. Could be a better mom.  Could be a better wife. (All comments made by my family members at this point will be changed to glowing reports of my efforts).

And it's because I only think about the changes I need to make and yet do the same uninspiring things every doggone day -like surf the web- (what the heck am I looking for??) instead of making decisions in my life that will make a difference. (But not perfect. I can't adult most of the time, don't make me do perfect).

Today is the day!  I am making those differences!  And it's not even Monday! (Are you serious right now? Nobody starts anything unless it's on a Monday. Sigh). I have new goals, like healthy eating and exercise, becoming more prayerful and I'm finally taking some chances.  As in starting a blog about things that really don't go together like how to have a good marriage and decorate your house and how to survive your children when they are smarter than you. 

And by the way.  I never won any cash, it's not that kind of lottery, but I have been granted freedom and choices and the same 24 hours everyone else has.  I am choosing to be grateful for my life and enjoy my winnings.

I won the lottery. 

And I bet you did, too.