Thursday, July 11, 2013

Worn



"Do you think you'll come back on Wednesday?" I asked the new girl before she left tonight...
I wanted to tell her it would be alright and Abby would come around, but the truth is that is what I hope for or hold on to.  It's the hope that keeps me going.  It's what gets me up to get her changed and fed in the mornings, but I don't really know if it's the truth.
Times like this play into my greatest fears...
Will she one day retreat to more than we can handle?  Will the bed that contains her or the toys that entertain her, cease to do so?
Each time she enters one of these phases I remind myself that we've been here before and we'd make it like we always do, but this time...
I'm worn
I'm five months pregnant and the thought of another baby excites and terrifies me...
I know it's summer.  I know we just moved her into a new bed in a different room.  She hates change, but reality is she's been "off" and getting progressively more grabby and more determined to "finger paint".
It's just seemed more bearable as she has such competent, seasoned "helpers" that rotate and take her away so no one person has to deal with it all day for days on end.  It's a beautiful cycle that enables us to wait periods like this out longer because it's more tolerable.
And some days are good.  There not all bad.  We've just strung more "not so great" together lately in the midst of a lot of other chaos that it's overwhelming.
A new baby on the way with a very sick mama, unemployment, summer break and change of schedules, new people in and others out, and a general unsettled feeling that accompanies all this with uncertainty...

I was reminded this week that no matter how our lives change we still cannot really take care of Abby ourselves.  We'll always need help with her.  Sometimes it more than other times, but the fact is we will always be above our heads when it comes to her.  She's a constant reminder that this life is bigger than me and I desperately need a big God to show up in order to live the life He's called me to.
I didn't sign up for this.
He set this path in motion and He is the only one who knows how it can play out without us losing our minds.

I'm often drawn back to Ephesians 3:20 "To Him who is able to do exceedingly abundantly more than we can ask or imagine..."  That is His promise to me, and that is what should get me up in the morning.

It's a cycle of life, my life, that gives me days where I sit in awe at the beauty around me, the sweet girls that entertain my days and the man who I adore that walks beside me... and others where I wonder at the futility of it all.  I have Ecclesiastical days, but more Psalm-like days.  I like the Psalms because they are more realistic like that.  One moment the writer is lamenting his existence and the next overcome with the amazing God who keeps it all in motion.

I borrow worried "what ifs" knowing full well that worrying about tomorrow is such a waste of a perfectly good today
I lay in the hammock overwhelmed with the serenity found in the peacefulness surrounding me and quickly switch to losing it all or having to walk away from it
I focus on accomplishing something, yet feel as if I continue to lose my footing no matter how hard I try
I take extreme joy in sitting by the lake, picking berries or being on the field with my Belle
Yet I have to keep my head in check as it gets the better of me with dwelling on the past instead of living in today

It's the cycle of change.  Things are always changing, but how I field that change determines a lot.  Sometimes I take the "bad hop" in the chops and sit to nurse my wounds; but other times I can see the dip in the dirt and adjust my footing to scoop it up like a pro.  I realized a few days ago there were adjustment to be made.  I had gotten caught with my head in the clouds and lost sight of the simplicity of the game.  Abby has been aggressive. I want her to do more with me. She cannot handle that.  It's my need to have her near me that is driving me batty! Adjust! Adjust! Adjust!  It's the coaches that stick to their game plan even when it is failing terribly rather than making necessary changes that frustrate me, yet I see the tendency to do just that.

So I needed to adjust my swing to the screw ball pitcher on the mound.  Instead of getting frustrated with her pinching and pulling, I have to bring her to her room and walk away.  I chose my level of disappointment and frustration.  The result:  I have a quiet cup of coffee and some time alone to read & much to my surprise, she is happy as a lark playing by herself for a bit.
I have visions in my head of doing certain things together.  Of her progressing to where she helps me in the kitchen, but...
 those are my dreams.
Those are my wants... not hers... yet.
I don't give up but I readjust my expectations, my routine to accommodate today.
I use my backhand because I can't get to the ball to funnel it toward the middle, shorten my crow up and find I can still make the play if I stick with it... or I  note the drop in this particular field and make a mental note for the next ball that will inevitable come my way.
Since it's summer and I'm helping coach again this year, there are so many times when life lessons pop into my head.  Maybe it's why I love sports so much.  It can be such a microcosm of paralleled life lessons...
Being knocked down but getting up again
Taking a brush back and stepping back in the box
scooping the miss throw and making it look easy
taking an extra step off the base to get a second look to buy a teammate some time
the calculated guesses, the intricacies of knowing a batters swing, how she stands and what pitch is coming next just to get that half step advantage...

... today I switch gears;
I modify my expectations;
I ice my bruised ego;
and get up and try something else.
Today it is leaving the house, adjusting meds (ie get the blood drawn bc it's really not that big of a deal)
letting her play in her room rather than roam...
and crawl in beside her to cuddle her... after she's asleep :)

1 comment:

  1. My sister, my friend, I love your words and writings even when they speak of heartaches and strains. The analogy's are perfect for me to grasp as well...
    As always, I love you, I love all of you!

    ReplyDelete

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