The kids and my parents arrived home last night about 9:00 p.m., almost twelve hours after leaving Massachusetts. Between accidents and highways closed and backed up due to brush fires, it was a long trip. Mom and Dad were up and out this morning by 10:00 a.m.. Thankfully, their return trip took only eight hours.
Between broken wrists and pet fish dying (On my watch no less. Doesn't that just figure?) and brush fires, I am glad to have the children home safely. And I am very appreciative of my parents who took such good care of them.
Some thoughts I have been pondering... I am really going to miss Caleb's help around the house. That sounds selfish, but honestly, he is a huge help to me. It is also nice to take care of my boy. He is struggling with all the things he can't do. He dissolved into tears today when he tried to play a wii game and was unable to. I think this whole experience is going to be one that stretches Caleb's patience. One of the blessings of having had cancer and all the ensuing garbage that goes along with it is it allows me to better put myself in his shoes. When he is crying about something he can't do, I know the feeling. There are things I will never experience again because of this disease. And so I can understand his frustration. And hopefully, I can kindly and with patience (because I can be woefully impatient) encourage him that this too will pass. It's an inconvenience, yes. But it will pass. He will be able to hold his wii remote again. He will play baseball again. He will hold a pencil and write. He will run and play and ride bikes and shoot baskets and all the things that soon-to-be eleven year old boys love to do.
We encourage and tell our children that the Lord loves them and cares for them. My prayer is that Caleb experiences this first hand as he deals with the challenges coming his way.
And a quick funny...
My darling daughter, Elisabeth, was weeping and wailing one evening at my parents' house. My mother and sister came downstairs to ask her what was wrong. "Nate (my nephew) is stealing my bones!" she wept.
"Bones!?! What bones?"
"My imaginary bones!"
Upon which my sister considered putting them in imaginary time-out, but opted for a real bottle of wine for herself and my mother. Great. My child drives my family to drink. And Mark wondered, "Couldn't she just imagine some new bones?"
She's not our drama queen for nothing.
God uses our own pain to carve out wells of compassion inside of us for others.
ReplyDeleteYou've had wells carved out that cause you to be able to relate to Caleb.
He's having some wells carved out himself right now.
Ultimately, that's gonna be a good thing.
I hope Elisabeth gets her imaginary bones back SOON! ;-D
Susan, that's a great way to put it. I shudder to think how much less compassionate I'd be if I hadn't gone through all the cancer crap. I wouldn't be mean (at least I hope not!) but I know I wouldn't "get it" in a way I can now. I think I'd be much more if a "just suck it up" kinda mom. And there's a place for that. But there's also the time to come alongside and commisserate in the cruddiness of it. And I think I'm a little better at that part of it than I would have been. Does that make sense?
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