A New You

Lately I've had a thought on my mind that won't go away. I've avoided exploring the idea of it because I wasn't sure I liked the end verdict, but I've finally come to grips with it.

I am a new me. The me I was two and a half years ago is gone, maybe to never return.

I am not as innocent as I used to be. Not as naive. Not as carefree and funloving.

I am more serious. More cautious. Older (literally and figuratively). I carry a heavier load.

I have to admit I don't always like these changes. When all my old friends are off having fun, and I wish I even cared to join them, it makes me sad--but those things don't sound fun to me anymore. My fun comes in other ways, like baking with my girls or getting my house clean. When others are going out on dates with their husbands or boyfriends, and we can barely stand to leave our kids with a babysitter for an hour or two, it makes me sad--but we'd rather us all be together. Period. I hate, hate, hate it when people say, "You're only as old as you feel", because I usually feel like I'm about 100.

The changes aren't all bad. I "get" people more than I used to, because I can generally see past the artificial shell they've put up. I have more compassion and understanding toward people, because I realize what pain truly feels like. I cry more (way more, much to my dismay), but it's because I care more. I'm pretty sure that I'm okay with the person I've become. I don't need to be that person anymore. I'm happy with the place I'm in, even if it can be pretty lonely. The people who "get" me where I am are the people who love me the most anyway.

What about you? Are you a different you than you used to be? Do you think it's good or bad, and what brought the change?

Grumble Grumble

Do you have a complaint? A grumble? Something that's bugging you?

I've done my fair share of grumbling, especially lately, but then I got to thinking. Sometimes it's best to keep it to myself.

I don't mean we never have the right to whine a bit. We all need to let it out from time to time, but this post is to remind others (and myself) to be mindful of what they say and when. There is a time for everything, and that means sometimes it ISN'T the time.

When Emma was in the hospital in the beginning, I had to stay completely off social media sites. Why? Because I couldn't take one more person's whiney post about the "troubles" in their lives (usually troubles they'd put on themselves) while my daughter was fighting for her very next breath. I didn't want to read about anyones disappointment that their boyfriend had to work overtime, or how someone got a bad haircut. I wanted to shout, "Some people have REAL problems!".

This week there was something called the Fiddler's Convention in our town. We like to go, but this year we couldn't. I almost--almost!--posted on a certain social media network about how I wanted to go and was sad we weren't, but then I remembered how I felt when people posted their menial whines in the past. I decided not to post. Then I got online and relief washed over me that I hadn't posted my grumbles.

One friend had posted an update on her 10-day-old infant who is in NICU and on oxygen, and who is facing open heart surgery. One friend had posted an update on her father's funeral. And yet another friend had posted an update of her visit with the funeral home after she'd made arrangements for her 10-year-old son.

I don't have any real problems, not right now anyway. I encourage us all to cut out our grumbles and just be thankful! What are you thankful for today?

Dear God...

Dear God,

My name is Mother. I have a dear child you’ve given me, and this dear child is ill. She is so very sick, and yet she is so very small. She cannot fight this fight on her own, God. Unfortunately I cannot fight the fight for her.

There are tubes taped to my dear child’s body, God—tubes in her chest, tubes in her hands, tubes down her throat—so many tubes. She seems so very alone.

You are the creator, God. You could take this sickness away. You could take all sickness away. You are the great physician. Still, you choose not to. Why, God?

Please help my child, God. She is too small to fight on her own. She is your child, too, I know, and as her father, you surely love her more than I do. Please ease her suffering, and help her to persevere. You are the only one who can save her. I am putting my trust in you and your goodness. Please don’t let me down.

Sincerely,

Mother

 

Dear Mother,

I am your father, God. Yes, I know of your dear child. You see, I knew her before she was formed in the womb. I knew of the trials she would face. I see what you cannot—your dear child is special! I have assigned her a special task for my plan, one that only she can perform. She can reach hearts that you cannot. She can make an impact on souls that a healthy adult never could.

You say she is alone, but she is not. Surrounding her bed, and all those tubes, are angels. The angels hold back a dark tempest, but there is no need to fear. They are heavenly angels, and they are stronger than any tempest that illness can give. They are fueled by the prayers of your family and friends, prayers that haven’t ceased.

I am with your dear child, and I am not going anywhere. I know that you are afraid, but I can bear your burden. You may not see what tomorrow holds, but that is okay. Whatever my plan holds I will be with you. Never fear to bring your worries, your questions, or your anger before me. My love never fails you, and it never fails your dear child, either.

I hope to hear from you again soon.

Sincerely,

Your Heavenly Father,

God