The Sweetest Valentine

Meant to post this on Valentines Day, so that for once I wouldn't be totally behind on my stories. Oh well...

This may have been my sweetest Valentines Day yet. Allyson and I planned our usual Valentines dinner, complete with kids' champagne and candles, though our lighter was out of fluid and we couldn't find any matches.

Allyson still made the table special...

She made place cards... just two.
(Ethan had dinner with his own Valentine)

She'd wanted her favorite yellow rice and chicken, our typical menu, but she settled on baked potatoes with grilled chicken and cheese instead because I can't eat rice, and she didn't want me to eat something different. I was touched by her thoughtfulness. We made saffron rice on the side, and I laughed when she piled it on top of her potato. Her meal was the very opposite of low-carb!

Allyson dressed up in a pretty dress and borrowed Mama's makeup. And then she informed me that this dinner required fancy attire, and made me change out of my faded jeans.

I was glad she did, so that our Valentines selfie was much prettier:

Allyson is loving her new selfie stick. 

She tried to get Arwen to model for a shot, but she wouldn't cooperate.

She made me this cute and clever card:

And then made this one for good measure, because she hadn't had time to write a sentiment inside the first card:

She made Ethan a card, too. She drew a picture of a cute little cat and wrote, "I have felines for you."

As I wrote in Allyson's card, I am so blessed by her romantic heart, full of the truest love. She spent a few hours making cards for her family at both houses, for all of her teachers, and for many of her friends. In addition to the witty puns she'd copied from the Internet, she wrote sweet messages in each one.

And now we are going to eat the very humble apple pie we made this afternoon. I'm sure it will be much tastier than it looks...

Five. Minutes. Later.

Oh, my goodness! That was so delicious. Allyson and I just finished off half of our little pie. I guess I should have made a full-size one.

Funny, Allyson thought I should have looked for a pretty pie photo online to post, but I thought you'd appreciate the real thing more. But as payment for my vanity in posting photos of my food, I actually dropped my phone into it. If you look closely you might spot the dent in the lower left corner. That was my piece. No matter.

I hope your Valentines Day was just as sweet.

Great Expectations

Oh, I've missed you! I'll try not to wait so long before my next post. No promises, though. 

Two Christmases ago (2013), I shared with you how God amazed me with literally my most beautiful Christmas season ever. Here, this may jog your memory:

That was my first Christmas after the divorce, and I'd been dreading it, struggling to muster up any Christmas spirit. God, my friends, and my family had more than enough Christmas spirit to share, and it really was the best Christmas of my life--all the more so because it was such a delightful surprise. 

After such a wonderful Christmas, I was actually looking forward to Christmas 2014. I wasn't at all worried about being depressed even though I knew both of my kids would be with their fathers on Christmas day. Although there were many blessings that Christmas season, I was surprised when I spent a good portion of Christmas day in tears, which led to a week or two of mild depression. 

So this year, I didn't know what to expect. I just decided to focus on enjoying family traditions. But things were different this year. Allyson and Bill went to Canada before Christmas rather than after, and we didn't get to do several of our usual pre-Christmas rituals, like making marshmallows. For the first time in seven years, we just didn't get around to it. But we did make banana bread and hand that out to our friends in the neighborhood.

Allyson's Blessed Year

I have a few moments tonight, so I thought I'd share some long overdue Allyson stories. Here we are starting the Christmas season, and I realize I never even posted her first-day-of-school pictures.

This year we tried something new for school clothes shopping: we visited a couple of resale shops. Allyson was a little reluctant at first, but I told her our budget was a little limited this year due to all my medical bills over the spring and summer. This way we could get a lot more for our money. When we got to the first one, she was like a kid in a candy shop. She couldn't stop exclaiming over all the bargains. We each walked out with a giant armload of clothes--all the brands she loves--for under a hundred dollars. Ka-ching! During our bedtime prayers that night, Allyson sweetly thanked God for blessing us with all these clothes.

For the first day of school, she put together several of her "new" pieces, including some super cute boots that we got from the teen resale shop. (Like me, Allyson has been blessed with giant clodhoppers and has already grown into women's shoe sizes.)

I was a little nervous about the long sequined tank with the short jean vest, but Allyson was perfectly confident in her ability to accessorize. Good thing, because she's not going to get much help from me in that department. Same with hair styling, I'm afraid. Not to worry, Allyson finds all the help she needs on YouTube.

First Day of School and a Few Other Stories

After two weeks of school, I'm finally posting first-day-of-school photos. Enjoy....

Allyson with Mrs. D, already dearly loved

Wearing her thrift-store sequined blouse and the vest from her birthday

First-Day-of-School ice cream, which Ethan likes almost as much
as Last-Day-of-School ice cream (but not quite)

Ethan, Bill, Allyson, Meggie

I was proud that Allyson chose her thrift-store blouse, a souvenir from our recent Hill Country vacation, for the first day of third grade. She's most excited about the after-school clubs this year, including art and drama, as well as theater class once a week. I'm sure her acting career will really take off this year. 

Can you believe little Ethan is now a senior? Neither can I. He's growing up so fast. Last week he announced he wanted to apply for a job. He'd heard that a favorite hamburger joint was hiring, and I drove him over one evening to apply. "What should I say?" he asked.

"Just say, 'Hello. Are you accepting applications?'" I advised.

So that's what he did, while Allyson and I watched from the car. Every day, Allyson asks if he has turned in his application, and I tell her, "No, he hasn't filled it out yet." One step at a time.

A Little Arwen News

And now for an update on our sweet kitty, Arwen. She has become much more social, wonderful company for me. She no longer hides from all visitors, and occasionally she even lets them pet her for a moment. 

She is also an accomplished hunter. It's not uncommon to find dismembered bug parts in random spots. I always cringe but then wonder why it's not that gross to see a bug leg on the ground. Any other kind of leg would be revolting or even horrifying, but when I see a bug leg, I think, "Oh good. It's dead." And, "Where's the rest of it? Ugh." 

I shudder to think what's down my shower drain. Every chance Arwen gets, she nudges the shower door open and knocks the cover off the drain. Then she crouches over the hole, standing guard for up to an hour at a time. 

My shower isn't quite as dirty as it looks.
Let's say it's the bad lighting and the shadows.
And the cheap plastic floor that's impossible to clean. 

Sometimes she pokes a paw down there, and sometimes she puts her nose into the opening.

One morning a few weeks back, I came across a small grass snake in my kitchen and almost fainted before I realized it was dead. I left it there, waiting for Ethan to wake up and dispose of it for me. In the meantime, Arwen carted it off to the garage. 

When Ethan woke up, he said no way was he going to touch a snake. So my cousin Jenny, who was visiting from Indiana, bravely knocked it into a dustpan and threw it away in the kitchen trash. Ugh!

30-Second Hero

Lately, I've gotten into several scrapes, so much so that I'm beginning to think there's no point making plans because my day so often goes nothing like I planned it. For example, a couple weeks ago at 11 PM, my garage door wouldn't close. This was a true disaster because Arwen's litter box is in the garage, and we want to keep her an inside cat. My kind neighbors Neil and Steve came and screwed in a loose bolt, and then Neil fixed the garage door opener the next day. And then this past Sunday, Neil jump started my car... twice. (It turned out to be just a dead battery, thankfully.) 

The biggest emergency happened yesterday. Somehow, my master bathroom door got locked with no one in it. At first I blamed it on Allyson, but then I remembered going in the bathroom after I'd dropped her at school. So the culprit had to have been me. 

I wasn't too concerned at first. In fact, I saw it as an opportunity to learn new skills, remembering my friend Gentle's encouragement about that when I was newly single. First I poked a paperclip into the hole on the knob, and then the tip of a ball point pen, and then a small screw driver (at the suggestion of a coworker that I was having a phone meeting with). 

Nothing I tried worked, and I was getting anxious because I needed to brush my teeth and change clothes before a lunch date with one of my neighborhood friends. (My closet is inside the bathroom.) So I texted Kim and asked her to give me a couple more minutes.

I raced over to Neil's house and rang the bell, Thankfully, he wasn't busy and was happy to rescue me yet again. He'd had plenty of experience with picking inside locks, so this would be a piece of cake. Only it wasn't. He worked on it for 15 minutes with several implements he'd brought over, including an even smaller screw driver. 

Kim was on her way over, so we agreed to try again when I got back from lunch. While we were eating, Neil sent a text about locking himself out of his own bathroom, which had the same type of knob, and then easily opening it with a homemade slim jim. "I want another opportunity to be a 30 second hero," he said. "Call me when you get in."

He worked on the knob another 20 minutes or so while I worked at my computer. He even took apart another doorknob to reverse engineer it and figure out how to pop that lock. All of his efforts were to no avail, though. 

"You know," I mused. "I've always wondered if it's as easy to break a door down as it looks on TV." 

"You don't want to do that," he said. "The door would be expensive to replace." 

"Oh, come on," I urged. "It would be fun." 

"No, I'm not going to break your door." 

His next idea was to call our other neighbor over. Steve had the "key" that had come with his own bathroom lock. Yay! 

...But it was the wrong size. Steve took off to get ready for work, and Neil tried all the tools one more time before admitting defeat. Finally, he asked if I'd mind him knocking the doorknob off if he promised to replace it. 

"Go ahead," I said. "I really need to brush my teeth." (By now it was 2:00 in the afternoon.) 

So I covered my ears and watched him bludgeon that stubborn knob with my pink hammer (compliments of Gentle, who had painted it for me and put it into a cute little toolbox which she'd decorated with an S). 

Neil apologized several times and said he felt like a failure for not being able to open that door, but I assured him that this had been quite an adventure, though I rather wished I'd been the one to smash the doorknob. 

Not only did Neil replace the doorknob a couple of hours later, but he even went to Home Depot to buy it for me. Now that's a good neighbor, and a two-hour hero. 

A Big Enough Blanket

This year, I wasn't looking forward to the Christmas season at all. In my mind Christmas was all about family traditions, and it seemed that most of those were pretty much wrecked.

What I dreaded most was decorating the tree. Part of me wanted to skip it this year, but I knew that wasn't an option. So on the weekend of Thanksgiving, Allyson and I went to Walmart with my sister Amy to pick out a $39 pre-lit tree, a pretty star, and a $2.50 tree skirt.

On the first Sunday in December, I sorted through a box of memories, about twelve years' worth of ornaments. That was hard on me, but fun for Allyson as she asked the history of each decoration. We took about half and saved the rest for Bill. And then the two of us wrestled that sparse tree together.

After dinner, just as we were about to start decorating, Ethan calmly asked if I could bring some towels. Why? Because the toilet was overflowing. I raced into the hall to find rivers of dirty water flowing across the tile to the carpet. "Jiggle the handle!" I shrieked as I flung open the linen closet and pulled out all the towels.

"I tried that but--"

"Jiggle the handle!" I repeated.

He obeyed, and the water stopped.

"I'm sorry, I--"

I tossed him a beach towel as I hit my knees with my own towel. "Just soak it all up as fast as you can."

Twenty minutes later, after I'd thrown every towel we own into the wash and mopped the bathroom floor twice, I called the kids out to the living room to decorate the tree. I had to laugh, because I felt about as Christmasy as... the Grinch.

At that point, Allyson pointed out that we had no eggnog. "We always drink eggnog when we decorate the tree," she said. (I'm clearly not the only one who's hung up on traditions.)

"I'm sorry, but Ethan drank it all and I forgot to buy more," I said.

"Can't you go to the store?" Ethan asked.

"No! I'm not going to the store!" I snapped. In a softer, more reasonable tone, I added, "It's almost Allyson's bedtime."

So I got on the Internet and found a recipe for homemade eggnog. Another 15 minutes later, I presented each kid with a frothy mug of deliciousness and cholesterol. For tradition's sake, I had a token serving even though I usually avoid both eggs and dairy.

Allyson took two swallows and said it was okay, but she was full, thank you. Ethan took one swallow and said it was gross, not at all like the kind they sell at Braum's.

"This is wayy better than that gloppy store-bought stuff," I protested.

"Nnhhh," they replied.

I couldn't possibly waste such amazing eggnog, so naturally I drank both of their servings. And now I had a bellyache to go along with all of my other aggravations.

At first, Ethan sat on the couch and watched us hang the ornaments. "That's a pretty crappy tree," he commented.

"It's a cheap tree," I agreed. "But I think it's cute. It's a Charlie Brown tree."

"What's a Charlie Brown tree?" both kids asked.

"Oh, you guys have got to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas," I replied. (Allyson and I did, on Christmas Eve.)

When Allyson asked if she could hang his ornaments, Ethan finally got off the couch. In the end, the tree looked pretty sweet, especially with the two of them beside it.

That evening, we started a new tradition, the Jesse Tree. Each of the 24 nights leading up to Christmas, we sang "O Come Emmanuel," read a story of a person in Jesus's family tree, and hung an ornament. Actually, we stopped hanging ornaments after we ran out of ornament hooks and paper clips. But we thoroughly enjoyed the singing and the stories. (To be more accurate, Ethan only tolerated the singing.) On Christmas Eve, we read the story of Jesus's birth and then sang "Silent Night."

After Allyson had gone to bed on the night we decorated the tree, I started another new tradition. Before, my favorite part of decorating the tree was admiring it afterward over a glass of wine, hand-in-hand with my sweetheart. I thought of sharing this tradition with Allyson, but school was already going to come way too early the next morning. And Ethan? Not happening.

"Oh, Lord," I prayed. "This hurts. But I know that I am not alone. Will you sit with me?"

So I poured myself a splash of wine and sat in the darkened living room in front of the tree. I thanked Jesus for coming to dwell with us. I thanked him for my family and all of our memories. I asked him for peace, and then I rested in it.

The next evening, I went to a ladies' dinner at my friend Leisa's church, along with two of our coworkers. The speaker was Kelly Minter, a Bible study author and singer. She read the story of Mary visiting her Aunt Elizabeth, who was pregnant at a very old age with John the Baptist (Luke 1). Kelly pointed out Elizabeth's words: "The Lord has done this for me." Of course, John's conception was part of God's plan to change the world for all of us, for John came to prepare the way for the Messiah. But the fact that He did it for all of us in no way detracts from the fact that He also did this wonderful thing for Elizabeth, who'd suffered decades of shame because of her barrenness.

Kelly urged us to take the Christmas story personally, to realize that God gave us Jesus because He wanted to be near each of us, individually. I pondered her words as I sang "Oh Come Let Us Adore Him," hand-in-hand with my three friends. In that moment, I thrilled to the true meaning of Christmas as never before. Oh, I'd always known it was all about Jesus, but.... (How can I explain this?) Because I rejoice in my salvation all through the year, to me Christmas had always been more about family traditions than about the Christmas story itself.

How foolish that seemed now. What did it matter if I couldn't celebrate all the same traditions in exactly the same way? Didn't I need Jesus, God-With-Us, more than ever this year? All the way home, I marveled that the Savior of the world knows my name, that He delights in spending time with me. Just then, I had an inkling that I would do far more than just survive this Christmas season.

Fran, Leisa, Me, Lisa

The lesson at Celebrate Recovery the next evening added to my Christmas joy. We reflected on grace, and what it had meant in our recovery. One lady compared grace to a coat that covered not only herself, but also her son. Another lady called it a blanket in this cold world. My tears splashed down as I realized what had been bothering me most about all of our broken traditions.

In all that I've gone through the last year and a half, I've never been bitter because I know I'm simply reaping what I sowed years ago. It's not that I'm being punished, but that I am experiencing the natural consequence of my past choices. This brings me comfort because I know that my future is being written by the better choices that I'm making now. But I have big regrets for my children, who are reaping what they did not sow. And that hurts even more now, when I cherish my own childhood Christmas memories.

In that open sharing circle, understanding dawned! If God's grace can cover my own sins, can it not also cover my children? His grace is a big enough blanket for all of us!

I basked in that truth for days, but at times my sorrow was still sharp. One night I was brushing my teeth when a wave of grief struck without warning. On the floor of my prayer closet, I asked God for signs of his love. "I need my manna, like you gave me before."

Throughout the Christmas season, God answered that prayer in beautiful ways. For example, when I cried at the thought of filling my own stocking this year, my friend Gentle informed me that she'd had a call from Santa, and I was not to worry about my stocking; he had it under control. And she also offered to come and help me wrap presents, another thing I'd been dreading.

When she arrived a few nights later to be our personal Santa's elf, what did she find on our porch but a box from Santa himself! Allyson gaped at the inscription: "To Sarah. Do not open until Christmas. From Santa."

Oh, how that mystery tormented her over the next couple of weeks (and me, by extension). Why would Santa send me a box? What was in there, and why didn't he just bring it on the sleigh? Most importantly, did the box contain goodies for herself? It was literally her first waking thought nearly every morning.

Allyson was briefly distracted by our tradition of making marshmallows and handing them out to our neighbors. This year, at her suggestion, we used tiny cookie cutters to make Christmas shapes. This worked out well because that meant we got to eat all the crazy scraps ourselves.

I'll pass on a little wisdom we learned this year: never buy treat boxes at the dollar store. Just don't. It took about 30 minutes and a ridiculous amount of Scotch tape to put together seven boxes (which should have been eight).

Allyson in the Marshmallow Sweat Shop

My next bit of manna came at a Moms in Prayer meeting one Wednesday morning. I confided that I'd been struggling, and the other moms prayed fervently over me. Victoria prayed, "We know this is not Sarah's portion. No, you came to bring peace and grace. You delight in giving good gifts, and you came to set our sister free." As they prayed, it seemed that a physical weight was lifted as I felt God's love wrapping around me, that blanket of grace.

And then there was my family's gift exchange, this past Saturday. When my 16-year-old niece Hillary set a large gift bag at my feet, I eyed her quizzically; we don't usually give gifts to the adults.

"It's a present," she said.

"For me?"

She nodded.

"From who?"

"From me."

"You're going to make me cry," I said, as my vision blurred.

She laughed. "You haven't even opened it yet."

My curiosity mounted as I waited for all the kids to open their many gifts, and then Mom and Dad, too. (It was almost as bad as Allyson's suspense over the Santa box.) At last, Hillary said it was time to open her gift.

With trembling hands, I drew out a purple canvas with a cross on it. When I read the verse, I began to sob. "I told you she would cry," my sister Emily said. And then I was laughing and crying at the same time.

Me, Emily, and the Best Christmas Gift Ever

The reason I cried so much was because, on a walk with Jesus a couple of months before, I'd asked God to help me let go of some negative thoughts that kept plaguing me. "I need a scripture that-"

The answer came before I could even complete my thought: "I am my beloved's, and my beloved is mine." Since then, that verse has come to mind over and over. And I'd been searching for scripture art featuring that verse to hang over my bed. But the only thing I'd found was a black and red plaque that totally clashed with my purple decor. Frustrated and disappointed, I asked God to please help me find the perfect piece so that I could have that daily reminder that I am His.

Around the middle of November, Hillary and her sister Savannah asked about my favorite scripture. I gave them several, and I also mentioned to Hillary that I wanted Solomon 6:3 for my room.

A week or so after that, Hillary was assigned an art project at school, to paint a place that had meaning for her. She decided on the cross. (Hallelujah!!) And then she decided to give it to me, for my room. But she couldn't remember which verse I'd wanted. So she asked her Aunt Amy to find out for her. Which explains why Amy randomly texted me one morning and asked for my favorite verse. I'm sure I gave her several because it's impossible to choose just one, but thankfully Hillary was able to remember which one I wanted.

And that is how Hillary came to paint the very verse that I asked God to help me find for my room. It was her very first painting, and she chose to give it to me!

The Beautiful Artist and Her Beloved Aunt

"I think this is the best gift anyone ever gave me," I said. "I know I will treasure this for the rest of my life."

And then I smiled all the way home, and all the way through cleaning my disaster of a kitchen. I was smiling when I fell into bed at 1:00 a.m., and smiling when I woke up the next morning. And each time I think about it, I still smile. I suspect I always will.

One more story before I call it a night.... On Christmas Eve, it took so long for Allyson to fall asleep that I feared I might fall asleep myself and then Santa wouldn't come. Around 11, I started on their two stockings. With a pang of guilt because I knew how Allyson had been looking forward to opening that Santa box, I cut it open with a steak knife. Inside was the most gorgeous stocking I'd ever seen and a gift bag. I set both on the hearth without so much as a peek and left the opened box next to the fireplace.

In the morning, after announcing that Santa's cookies were gone, Allyson asked, "Why is the Santa box open?"

I pressed my lips together and feigned interest in the apple pancakes I was pouring (which she was far too excited to eat). "I guess Santa must have opened it."

"Why?"

"I don't know. Sometimes things just remain a mystery, Allyson."

"Oh," she said. And then exploring her stocking drove away all her questions.

Her Favorite Santa Gift

After breakfast, I opened my own gifts. They were full of treats and little treasures that made me feel so loved. But the best part was that every item was emblazoned with a scripture. That stocking and gift bag were chock full of treasure!

Stocking on Left

Oh no, I didn't just survive Christmas! Surely I will look back on this season as the most special ever. What did I ever do to deserve such love? Nothing. And that's what makes it so precious.

Merry Christmas to you and yours.

Santa's Workshop Event at Allyson's School

Joy in the Struggles

Doggie Duty
In the short time Bill's been gone, I've gained a new appreciation for all he did around here. Now I get to gather the trash, clean the leaves out of the pool, clean the hamster cage, and... pick up doggie doo. This past Friday was my first time to take on that unpleasant task. Ethan made himself scarce, but Allyson eagerly volunteered to help. The only problem was that the shovel was too heavy for her, and she just about conked me upside the head. Plus she flung poo dangerously close to my ankles.

So I took the shovel from her and handed her the plastic grocery bag full of poop. She stuck with me through the first three or four of Lola's "deposits," but then the stink was too much for her, and I was on my own. I held the bag in one hand and the shovel in the other. It wasn't nearly so easy as Bill makes it look, but I managed to get the job done.

I was just putting the shovel into the shed when Allyson shouted, "You missed one! Over here!" I shouldered the shovel with a sigh and plodded over to the swingset, from which Allyson gleefully pointed out the pile I'd missed.

I set the bulging grocery bag on the grass and headed back toward the shed. I hadn't gone three steps when Allyson got Lola riled up, so that she tore across the yard and right over the bag of dung. It split down the middle. Argh!

I got another bag and gingerly eased the broken bag into it. Whew! And Pee-u!

Allyson and Lola on Poop Scooping Day

A More Pressing Concern
Doggie doo is really the least of my concerns right now. My biggest problem has been insomnia. Although I've felt at peace in the daytime, trusting God with all of my worries, I've passed hours and hours of sleepless nights in my big, empty bed. The first night I realized we were going to separate, I was not at all surprised to be up the entire night. My mind whirled with thoughts and fears.

But over the subsequent two weeks, the insomnia did not subside. During that time I got only one full night of sleep. The other nights I would sleep from one to four hours, or many nights not at all. I can't explain it. I don't lie there worrying or even thinking. My mind is mostly still, and if it's not still I'm praying or praising God. But my body refuses to let go and drop into sleep. If I do manage to doze off, I usually jerk myself awake with a violent kick.

About a week in, I saw my family doctor, who prescribed a sleep aid which worked wonderfully.... at first. And then I seemed to develop tolerance.

This past Thursday night, I asked my mom to come stay with me so she could help me get Allyson ready for school the next morning. Before bed, I soaked in a lavender-scented bath, took a preparation of melatonin, lemon balm, and chamomile, and then prayed over the phone with my friend Rhonda while my mom hugged me.

I was so relaxed! I felt like a limp noodle, deliciously drowsy. I fell right asleep.... and was wide awake just 30 minutes later. At first, I was calm. I read over the scriptures about rest which I'd copied down during the day, and I read over the prayer my friend Gentle had emailed. Here's a portion of what she wrote:

"I will refresh the weary and satisfy the faint." (Jeremiah 31:25)
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. (Matthew 11:28)
He doesn’t say, “Let me think about it, maybe tonight, maybe another night.” No. Your Father says “I will give YOU, my sweet daughter, the rest you seek.” Believe it Sarah. All your HOPE is in Him for everything else. Put all your hope for sleep and rest in your Father…who will surely give it to you.
"I lie down and sleep; I wake again, because the LORD sustains me." (Psalm 3:5)
"In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord make me dwell in safety." (Psalm 4:8)

I lay down again, comforted and quieted, and waited for sleep to take me. It didn't. I prayed, thanking God for sleep. I praised him for the rest that I knew was coming. I felt that rest, but there was no sleep for me.

At 1:00 I climbed out of bed and knelt in my bathroom. (I think I was too aggravated with God to go in my prayer closet.) I rocked back and forth, in a full-on panic attack. My chest was so tight that I felt the knot of anxiety as a physical pain. Tears trickled from my eyes, but I didn't even have energy to cry.

"Why have you forsaken me?" I whined. "Why don't you help me?"

I don't really remember what happened next because I was so tired. But I remember rereading Gentle's email and turning to the book of John. In chapter 4, I read the story of the official who asked Jesus to heal his son. He wanted Jesus to come with him, but Jesus said, "Go. Your son will live." (John 4:5)

Here's what caught my eye and set my heart thumping, in the next verse: "The man took Jesus at his word and departed."

"Okay, Jesus," I said aloud. "I'm going to take you at your word. Your Word says I can come to you when I'm weary and burdened, and my soul will find rest."

Kneeling on the bathroom floor, I sang a song that has brought me much comfort these past months. "Just as I am, I come... Oh, Lamb of God, I come."

After four choruses, I thought maybe it was time to go to bed, but then I felt the need to open the Psalms. My Bible fell open to to Psalm 62, and my eyes were drawn immediately to verse 1: "My soul finds rest in God alone."

"Yes!" I said. I meditated on that whole chapter until my eyes felt too heavy to read anymore. My mind was calm, but my chest still felt tight.

I climbed into bed anyway and asked God to wrap his love around me. Within moments, I felt absolutely soothed. The pain in my chest dissolved, and in its place was a warm sense of security. As I dozed off, I woke twice with a grin. I clearly felt God saying, "I'm taking care of you. This is my plan." And then, "I'm taking care of Allyson too. This is all for your good."

This was around 1:30. I'd like to say I slept peacefully until morning, but I didn't. When Allyson joined me at 3:30, I woke up and couldn't settle back down. But I was able to enjoy the warmth of her sweet body against my chest, which had grown tight again. I breathed with her breaths and delighted myself in this time with her, and again the anxiety melted away.

It wasn't until morning that I was awake enough to recognize the sacred echo God had given me. First  there was Gentle's email about putting all my hope for rest in God, and then the same message in Psalm 62. In retrospect, I know it was worth a sleepless night to hear so clearly from God.

 All the next day, the peace and love I'd felt in the night stayed with me. I knew God was close to me, and He was giving me strength. Since then, I've continued to struggle with insomnia, but God has given me grace and comfort. I'm also taking a different prescription sleep aid, and that helps too.

Life Goes On
In the meantime, life goes on. Christmas is still coming, with all the joys it brings. Last night my family and my friend Elizabeth came over to decorate sugar cookies. We had such a wonderful time together. We ate a crazy meal of cheesy beans plus asparagus, sauteed zucchini, and a delicious salad that Elizabeth prepared. Plus lots of sugar cookies, of course.

Allyson Pouring Lots of Sprinkles

 

My Sister Amy and My Silly Niece Savannah

My Sister Emily Cleaning My Wreck of a Kitchen

Allyson with Beautiful Cousins Hillary and Savannah

Nephew Charlie Being Cute

So many treasures in the darkness!

A Pirate's Fondest Wish

For Halloween this year, Bill helped Allyson pick out a pirate's costume, complete with a sword and a skull necklace with "ruby" eyes. I had jury duty that day, so I had the misfortune (or good fortune, perhaps) to miss the annual trip to Party City with its throngs of rambunctious children and grumpy adults. But I did get to share the fun when Allyson modeled her costume and props.

And I was there on that first day when she broke both the sword and the necklace. "Maybe Daddy can fix them," she said, her voice barely over a whisper.

"I bet he can," I agreed.

"But let's put everything back in the bag so you don't wreck anything else before Halloween," Bill said.

In the weeks that followed, Allyson often repeated her hope that she'd be able to wield the sword and wear the necklace on the big day. But her fondest wish was something that seemed much more iffy. Her front tooth had been loose for weeks, and she dearly hoped she would lose it before Halloween; she figured a missing tooth would give her pirate's costume a more authentic look.

"I don't know, sweetie," I said. "It's not that loose yet, and it takes a long time to lose a tooth."

She continued to wiggle her tooth morning and night, day in and day out, and hoped for a Halloween miracle.

Last Sunday, before we took Allyson to Trunk or Treat at our church, Bill managed to mend the sword with a bunch of clear Duck tape. Good as new! And then he broke out the hot glue gun and affixed the crossbones behind the skull pendant.

"I knew Daddy could fix them," I said.

Allyson grinned, but then she frowned. "I wish my tooth would fall out before we go."

"I don't think it's going to fall out in the next hour," I said.

Even with all her teeth, she made quite a convincing pirate:

And, for a one-eyed pirate, she did amazingly well at all the carnival games. There were beanbag tosses, soccer and basketball goals, and even a game where she threw rolls of toilet paper into a stuffed "toilet." Her favorite game by far was a big inflatable (like a bounce house) with holes to kick a soccer ball through. The holes were way over her head, but she came so close to scoring. She went back over and over, making more than 20 attempts. Despite her tenacity, she never quite got the ball through the holes. But she never got discouraged, and I was so proud of her spirit.

The day after Trunk or Treat, Allyson rushed in from school and greeted me with a huge, toothless grin!

That tooth had come loose during class, creating quite a commotion among the kids as it dangled wildly, blood trickling out. Her teacher waved her to the bathroom, where Allyson held a paper towel to her mouth. And then the tooth popped right out. Losing a tooth wasn't the only first that occurred that day; she also got to go to the nurse's office! The nurse put her tooth into a tiny tooth-shaped container and hung it around her neck.

That night, she wrote this note:



The Tooth "Fariy" left this reply that night, along with three whole dollars! (Bill explained that you get a bit more for the first tooth since it is so special.)

You will get it back one day.... T.F.

So all of our pirate's wishes came true. On Halloween night, she went trick or treating with a snaggle-toothed smile, an almost perfect taped sword, and a skull necklace-with crossbones. I think she was right. That missing tooth added just the right touch:

She had a glorious time, I'm told. I was in Las Vegas for a conference at the time, and believe me when I say, Halloween is craazy in Vegas. As for Allyson, would you believe she broke that sword again?

Jack O Lanterns
This year it was only Allyson and Bill who carved pumpkins as Ethan had decided to pass on that tradition this year (sigh). As usual, all I did was take pictures.

The cat was Allyson's own design. Pretty nice, huh?

Christmas Joys

For the last couple of weeks, I’ve been reading Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts, on the recommendation of a woman I met during my training for the 3-Day Walk. It’s slow going because she has a very odd writing style, but I’m getting a lot from her message: that we draw closer to God and live in peace when we take time to be thankful for all our blessings, no matter how small. For example, she thanks God for the beauty of the fragile, iridescent soap bubbles when she’s washing dishes.

I think I’ve lived more in an attitude of thankfulness since I’ve been reading; it’s so easy at this time of year. Here are just a few of the joys I’ve been thanking God for:

·         Holding hands with my sweetheart in front of our beautiful tree, adorned with the kids’ humble handmade ornaments—just like Mom and Dad’s tree when I was growing up.

·         Christmas traditions, old and new—such as making homemade marshmallows. (This is my second time to make them, and Allyson has been begging for them the entire year.)

·         The wonder of Christmas music that makes my heart rejoice over the gift of our Savior.

·         Dear friends, old and new. I can’t believe how God has opened my heart to so many friends in the last couple of years. I’m not the shy, withdrawn woman I once was. (Hallelujah!)

·         New truths revealed after decades of reading the Bible, like today’s lesson that it’s not my job to seek God’s will, only to seek God, who reveals His will to me by changing my motives and desires. I’m seeing this in my life, and it thrills me. Example: I realized on our last weekly nursing home visit that I was actually having fun; it was no longer just an act of obedience.

·         The way God has answered my prayer to let me see the beauty in people whom I might have deemed unlovely, and in others I might not have even noticed—like sweet Estella, who loves cardinals, and who grew up watching birds in Nebraska where “there wasn’t much else to do back then.”

·         Seeing Allyson’s delight as she played Santa’s helper today, holding out a box of Kleenex to each elderly patient as Santa handed them a bag. She brought them so much joy, and it made my heart glad.

Allyson with My Coworker, Mike

·         The opportunity to visit with family at our Christmas celebration. It’s such a pleasure seeing my nephews growing up and getting married, and getting to know them as young adults.

·         Watching Ethan grow into a considerate young man, who helps me with cooking and helps Bill with yard work (with a bit of arm-twisting).

·         Volunteering with Bill at Allyson’s very first school Christmas party and seeing her in her “natural environment.” (Also meeting her so-call boyfriend Elias. Daddy’s not too sure this falls in the joys category.)

·         Christmas cards to remind us of all the friends and family we love so much.

·         And… my brand-new Zojirushi Mini bread machine, which bakes a day’s worth of bread so we can have it fresh every day! It just arrived about two hours ago, and of course my first loaf is already inside. Bill’s rolling his eyes at me, but I think he’ll change his tune when we’re enjoying that hot loaf. Then again, he probably has the sense not to eat bread at 11 PM, and by morning it will be a bit stale. And I will go to bed happy but with a tummy ache.

Do You Think She’s Family?

I know this is supposed to be a bullet list, but I can’t resist adding one story about our last nursing home visit. We were saying goodbye to one of our favorite patients, Fabian, when his roommate pointed at Allyson and asked, “Do you think she’s part of my family?” (He’d never spoken to us before.)

I said, “No, she isn’t. But she’ll probably give you a Christmas hug if you’d like one.”

“I’d love a hug from a pretty girl like her.”

She hugged him then, and his grin almost brought tears to my eyes. Next, he surprised me with a firm handshake and a strong, confident voice that reminded me of an executive. “I’m Bob,” he said.

When I told him my name, he said his oldest granddaughter is Sarah too. And then he told me all about her career as a teacher in Japan. I was shocked that I could have an enjoyable conversation with someone who… well, someone so senile. Now we have one more favorite patient to add to our list.

My cup runneth over!

How about you? What are you thankful for this season?

Halloween Pictures... Just in Time for Thanksgiving

I figure I ought to post the Halloween pictures before we hit another major holiday. Since I have a cold and I'm tired, I've resolved to just post the pictures this time. No stories! Let's see if I can pull that off.

Friday 10/28/11

Allyson getting ready for school, dressed up as a favorite story book character...

Don't you just want to pinch her cheeks?

Sunday 10/30/11

Jack O' Lanterns - Bill's, Allyson's, Ethan's (which he traced and carved all on his own)...

Halloween Night

I cringed when Bill cut up one of my old suit jackets for Ethan's hobo costume. Bill rubbed my back and spoke in soothing tones. "It's o-kay. You have enough clothes to wear." I protested that I wasn't worried about having enough clothes; it was just that I had that jacket in the Goodwill pile. Bill said no one would miss my out-of-style suit.

I have to admit it worked pretty well for Ethan's costume. See the soot on his cheeks and shirt? Bill practically had to hold him down in order to rub that on him. When did he suddenly become a clean freak?

Ready to go...

Allyson and I went out with Ethan and the neighbors across the street, our usual trick-or-treat buddies. After only a couple of blocks, Allyson announced that she had more candy than she needed (!), and she asked to go home and hand out candy with Daddy. Ethan stayed out another hour or so and came home with about five pounds of candy.

Sifting through her loot...

Looks like she got a yucky candy...

The highlight of my evening had to be eating a piece of pumpkin pie, freshly made from a pumpkin I'd roasted the night before, with a crust I made myself, topped with freshly whipped cream. YUM!!!

There, I did it. Pretty much. Those weren't stories, right? More like captions. Happy late Halloween to you, and happy early Thanksgiving too.