Crave

I find myself wanting to re-define who I am.  The past two weeks I've had time to lay, rest, and contemplate what I want the next years of my life to look like.  I don't know why now, why I have this heavy on my heart feeling to re discover things and live differently.  Perhaps it's because for the first time in a long time, my body is healthy, and perhaps I have hope that doctors will be able to regulate my hormones for the first time in my life, giving me a chance at consistency, giving me a fair opportunity to live and love fully instead of being robbed too quickly in order to jump another hormonal hoop of craziness.

Whatever it is, I'm making lists, praying, seeking promises that my Savior whispers, trying to allow Him to make me into who He desires, trying to do it differently.  I've always wanted to be who He wants, my life goal is to pursue Him, live sold out for Him...but for some reason it's different now.  Maybe it's because I've had time, recovering, laying, reading, watching.

I think especially watching.  I'm watching the world live, and even more importantly, I've watched my family do life while I'm on the sidelines, I get to analyze what I see, I have had time to look deep into the seams of our family stitching and I've made note of what I don't like, where the stitching needs to be strengthened in order for intended wear.  But what I've watched mostly is just them living and all the things I miss when I'm living...when I'm normal, there aren't the moments where she comes with a blanket for her and for me and we just lay on the couch talking about very unimportant things, but teaching her what she needs so much to know...mommy is here, you're important.  When I'm living my normal, I don't notice how she cares for her little brother more than I knew.  How she shows him things, runs to bring him his bear when he hurts, how she speaks to him so much like the words that escape my lips, how she shares with him, how she is becoming a big sister.

When I know my usual normal...I don't notice that my oldest will sit with a book next to me and be content to read quietly, I don't hear truly how his day is when my mind is already thinking of all the next things to do.  I have time to not just think about what I need to be teaching him, what his daddy needs to let him know...but I have time to lay there and ache about how will we ever get it right.  How will he ever understand the power that comes through HIS Savior's redemption and FEEL love when his diagnosis leaves him unable.  How can I work around the limitations and teach him what it is to feel, to share, to open a mind up to freedom, and most importantly that God became Man, in order to save him, and how that should make you feel, live, instead of just hear and repeat.  I have time to shed tears over it, and groan to my Father about it.

When I'm living the norm, I don't notice the little things my husband does, I don't realize how stretched and pulled he is living a career that is deeply underpaid and incredibly under appreciated, yet he jumps through hoops and makes little lives changed forever and I certaintly don't appreciate his stress when he comes home far too early, leaving a massive pile of never endings to dos at his office in order to jump through my demanding hoops for him.  I have time to watch him now, to see the exhaustion, to recognize how hard it must be to keep it all together and still fight like mad to understand me...the understandable, to work therapy programs with our children, to tear up when he can't understand how to parent the "un" typical children we have, and how little I care about what must be weighing heavily on his heart.  I've had time to look at him through different eyes, through eyes that have time to stare until the vision can hit the heart...and then the aching begins and the longing to show him that I care even when I've spent years racing through life, forgetting to love him and see him, like I had once promised.

Living slow, like I've lived for almost 14 days now...I've noticed how my little one signs "Kenzie" way more than I realized, how he is starting to love her, enjoy her, and toddle after her.  I have time to stroke his hair more, feel his little lips sucking my cheek as only he can kiss, and I have time to pray deeply for his future.  I have nothing to pull me away during screen time, so I stick to the couch and allow myself to get engrained in his entertainment, and I notice how when he cracks up over a funny party, he looks at me expecting me to share in the moment and giggle with him...I have never been there for that before, using a screen to have a few moments to accomplish a phone call or chop up the veggies for dinner....living fast.

Living like I am, I've had time to notice places on my baseboards that are toting a bit too much skid marks from certain push cars and walkers banging into them, and my eyes can't help but land on the little crayon marks by Kenzie's doors that I haven't cleaned off yet.  My eyes notice that the toilets aren't looking like I'd impress any friends dropping by and my feet know which spots on the tile to avoid due to their stickiness.  I'm recognizing that my granite counter tops aren't gleaming anymore, and toys are strewn all over while little snores come from sleeping children...a usual tell all that we utterly failed to clean before the day was over.  And my heart has ached knowing I will rise to face it all in the morning and I've contemplated why that is so very hard on me every single time.

I don't know.  I just know last night, my daughter pulled me into her room and wanted to read to me.  She doesn't want this often...me, that is.  But last night I was tired, from just being too tired I guess.  And I wanted to say no, I even tried to say no in a manipulative way...."it's a bit late"

I told her, hoping she'd get the hint that we need to throw out a quick pray and shut the lights out.  But she said "But I want you mommy."  So I gently laid my sore body onto her bed, shielded my incisions against her unpredictable "ness" and set in for a good Charlie and Lola Book.  "Those are long" is the thought I had, why couldn't she pick a Level 1 book? Those are always quick.  I surrendered to the thought I'd be there for  a good fifteen minutes and let my mind wander.  My eyes started analyzing her closet...Carter had recently ripped the door off so Kirk has them off to repair them, so I just noticed how it would be nice to have uniformity to the top shelf, and that some of her pink baskets of toys were turned around, etc.  Looking at her lack of shoes in there, I then started making a mental Christmas list for all the children, making sure to include a pair of shoes for McKenzie on the list.  And then my eyes wandered to this...


her, reading to me, after saying she wanted me.  And although my body was there, her mommy was not and of all my children....she knows, she is in constant tune to how we feel about her...and my wandering eyes and mental lists screamed volumes I'm sure.  But, even worse...I missed it, I could have been marveling at my little one reading to me, watching her inflection change, seeing her eyes dance to each word, stopping to figure out how to use her tone with each ending punctuation.  I could have escaped into the world of Charlie and Lola and laughed when it was funny, or sighed when Lola lost her tooth for the tooth fairy.  I should have been present...but I was missing it.  And that is the life I knew 14 days ago, hence why I sit...trying like mad to re-define this life, to make it match HIS plan.  To somehow allow my world to still be successful with toilet rings and dusty baseboards, to be able to call it a successful day even when the counter is sticky when the lights flicker off at night.  I want to crave my family...yes, that sums it up...such a simple, simple statement...crave my family.