Day 26 - Mess

Dave often encourages behavior that leaves me, as the mother, torn between stopping it and throwing my hands up while letting the fun continue. This is one of those things - times 2.

He asked them, "How do the piggies eat?" They showed him without a moment's hesitation. This was before he showed them his most beloved Christmas movie of all time, so they did it without even having the Christmas Story reference. I was equally horrified and amused at their eating like pigs and that he showed them the movie.

They loved it, of course. The first night, I fielded 284 questions about bullies and licking frozen flag poles, but since then, they ask him to turn it on every time they go downstairs with him. He loves having someone to share it with, as I've only just started tolerating the movie. I hated it when I was little - because of the bully and the flagpole licking and the mean Santa.

It also led to a good conversation with Ella when she asked me, about the bully, "Why does God make bad people?" I explained as plainly as I could that God made us with free will and that we are all sinners - we all do bad things. Sin separates us from God, but God wants us to be with him, so he sent Jesus to die on the cross for us. Jesus paid his life for our sins so that, if we love Him and ask Him to live in our hearts, we can live in Heaven with God after we die. It's not the first time we've talked about this, but it is the first time she's asked me to explain God in terms of something she views as negative. I hope I didn't make a mess of it.

Day 25 - Lunchtime.

Because Christmas is about Jesus, we celebrate him on Christmas day with cake and gifts, as is proper for a birthday party.

It has four layers because we couldn't reach consesus
 on a flavor this year; thus, two cakes in one.

We don't actually have lunch on Christmas day because we have late breakfast and early supper, but we do usually eat birthday cake in the middle of the day.

Earlier this season, while we wrapped presents for our family, Ella asked me if we should leave a gift for baby Jesus. I ran with it.

Me: Hmm, I like the idea but how would it work?
Ella: We could just leave it by the manger set.
Me: We could. Do you think we've already given Jesus a present this year?
Ella: (head shaking, eyes questioning)
Me: Well, you know that the baby Jesus was born as God's gift to us so that he could grow up and die on the cross to save us from our sins, right?
Ella: (Nodding affirmation)
Me: And one of the things that Jesus teaches us is to take care of other people who need things, like the little girl we filled a shoebox for and the kids we bought stocking stuffers for? I think that by taking care of other people, we have already given Jesus a present.
Ella: (Thoughtful, then decisive) No, I don't think it works that way.

She has always been very literal. She wanted to leave an actual gift by the manger for the baby Jesus, just like the wise men did, and that's okay because the seed is planted. At the suggestion of her preschool teacher, we did create an ornament for our tree to give her something tangible that represents her gift to Jesus.

“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’" - Matthew 25:40

The Valet Parking Lady

As busy as the Bruno Cancer Center is and as much as I've been impressed with the nurses and doctors and office staff, there is one lady there who just blows me away: The Valet Parking Lady.


Today's parking spot.



We found out yesterday that she goes by the name of Suzy Q, and I'm ashamed to admit that it took us four treatments to learn this. Because she knew Dave's name the day after his first one. She never fails to call him by name and she knows when he's there for a long day of chemo and when he's just there for the quick shot (he gets a shot 24 hours after each round of chemo to help his body recover his white blood cells).

This space usually holds 1 or 2 more with
just enough room to drive around them to get out.




The lot was not full today.. there are usually
2 more cars squeezed in this space you see.



Suzy Q works in the hot stress of a parking lot with a seemingly unending flow of traffic - and she is always happy and caring when she talks to the patients. She also has mad parking skills. I'm astounded at the number of cars she can fit in this tiny lot. One day, when she allowed me to parallel park the car myself for our quick shot day, I sucked it up so bad that she offered to fix it for me and bring the keys inside to me when she was done - teasing me the whole time. Another day, she said, "I'm gonna park you right over there in the shade Mr. Roper 'cause we don't want you gettin' too hot."

She does a job that I would hate and she does it with a good attitude, even when the cars are lined up so no one can get in and out of the lot and it's 95 degrees outside. I don't know how much a parking attendant makes, but I know it's not millions. Her job is one that would be easy to glance over without much thought; I'm sure some people see her as a mere convenience so they don't have to find a parking spot. But she's more important than that.  She spends her days running all around the St. Vincent's campus so that cancer patients have only to walk into and out of the front doors to get to their cars - not because the parking situation is sketchy, but because sometimes even the walk to the front door is too far. I don't know if she realizes it, but she has a pretty powerful ministry going on right at the front door of a place where people really need ministering. Any random person could be parking cars there, but not many would do it with the love that she displays for the patients. 

There are so many cars parked that the entrance/exit is one lane.



I believe she has a spiritual gift of service and probably also of mercy, and she is putting them to good work every day.

Do people recognize my spiritual gifts from watching me live my life? I'm not so sure...

It's Me, It's Me, It's Me, Oh Lord

Standing in need of a prayer.

Yep. Asking for prayer again. Not for healing or the ability to cope and care for others, but for peace and strength and wisdom.

I had an epiphany during church this morning. No, strike that, I got smacked over the heart with a realization. I've been under attack. I'm talking about spiritual warfare. The devil.

Since Dave came home from the hospital, 6 weeks ago, I've been waking up at 4 in the morning several times a week thinking horrible, nightmarish thoughts. Thoughts that don't even get close to my mind in the daytime, but that keep me awake in a near panic until I finally give up and get out of bed or fall back asleep. Sometimes I can put them away from me in the light of day and sometimes they linger for days on end, making me bitter and anxious and hateful. It's been so confusing because I really seem to have no control over my mind during those times and they aren't things I believe, but it keeps happening.

I know what I need to do. I need to fill my heart and mind with the word of God. I need to pray out loud in the name of Jesus. I need to make sure I clothe myself every day in the whole armor of God (Ephesians 6: 10-17) because I know that the devil is alive and well and he's after my soul.

"For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms." - Ephesians 6:12

You see, when things are happening in your life that display God's glory, the devil hates it. And he'll do anything to stop it. This is a time in my life when I know without a doubt that God is working and that everything that is happening to us and around us is for His glory. My constant prayer since I was able to put more words around the "please God" has been that He use us to draw people closer to him. Obviously that's happening, else the devil wouldn't be visiting me at 4 o'clock in the morning.

So now I'm asking for another prayer - for protection of my mind, my heart, my soul. For my own strength to say, "Devil, I rebuke you in the name of Jesus; leave my mind." If you happen to wake up in the middle of the night and think of me, please, please pray. I probably need it. I probably need it all day long, too, but it's definitely worse at night.

In exchange, I'll be thanking God for every person who is praying for me though I don't know who or what or when.

There's Something Happening Here

... and what it is ain't exactly clear.

Last night at the supper table, Ella asked us, "Why did Jesus die on the cross for us?"

Picture me with my mouth hanging open while my brain zoomed around at a thousand miles per hour while I tried to formulate an age-appropriate response. I think I sat there in silence for about 4 minutes before Dave jumped in and answered her.

He told her, "Jesus is God's son. God sent him here to die on the cross so that, if we love Jesus, we can go to Heaven and be with God."

All I could think was: How do I explain sin and death to a three year old? She doesn't have any personal experience with death yet and she does not grasp the permanance of it. I was completely unprepared to have this conversation with her at this age. I expected it to happen when she is older with a little more experience under her belt.

On the way to school this morning, she asked Grandmother, "Where did the baby Jesus go after he left the manger?"

Even that one gave me pause.  I was glad I brought my Bible into work with me today so I could look it up and be certain when I answered her. Mary and Joseph took him to the temple in Jerusalem, then the fled to Egypt to hide, and then they returned to Galilee.

Prior to our supper conversation last night, I had already had a few conversations this week about faith and the Bible. One was a deep discussion about God's plan and our free will and how the two work together. And during another one, I admitted that I do not prioritize the Bible at the top of my reading list and I don't have any good reason for that.

Then Ella started asking these questions, forcing me to spend more time reading it.

I believe God gave me Ella to make me a better person, and now she, one of the most important things in my life that takes up so much time and gives me a legitimate excuse not to do a lot of stuff (like spend time reading the Bible), is pushing me closer to God with her questions. I cannot say that I don't have time to spend with God, because one of the things she needs is for me to do just that.

There's something happening here.

From the Weekend

We had a boringly, uneventful weekend and it was glorious. It's true, Ella and I both got a little antsy for somewhere to go by Sunday afternoon, but we settled in for a nap and got over it. She even asked me not to turn Mickey Mouse Clubhouse back on when the first episode went off, so I didn't even have to listen to the incessant TV chatter while I napped in a pile on the couch with my children. Then I woke up an hour before they did and read! It was almost as good having the house to myself for an hour.

We did our grocery shopping, I cleaned, the laundry is finished, we had two good meals and we ate all the left overs out of the fridge so I didn't have to throw them away. I've really been trying to cook what I buy and eat what I cook so that we aren't so wasteful. 

Ella played gymnastics with her babies - finally playing through her fear of the uneven bars, I think. This did my heart good. We've been in that weird place where I know that she loves it, but there are a couple of skills that make her really nervous. She has told me multiple times that she doesn't like gymnastics because "it makes [her] body hurt." When I press her to tell me which part of her body, she says her tummy. (I can relate to that awful, flippy, vomitous feeling just before I do something new or uncomfortable.) When I press her to tell me which parts make her tummy hurt she says the uneven bars and the balance beam. But, when we were running late a couple of weeks ago and she was faced with the option of skipping class or going in late, she chose to go in late - practically bouncing through the gym door to meet her class while yelling, "Good morning!" to her teacher. Obviously, she loves it.

As I was getting ready for church Sunday morning, I kept hearing her yelling, "1- 2- 3- 4-5-6-7-9- 10-11-13-14!" (she always skips 8 and 12) at the top of her lungs. After the 6th or so time, I peeked my head into The Big Room to see what she was up to. She had her nap mat folded and placed below the end table, and she was coaching Ellaroo (the Elephant-Kangaroo Wuzzle - remember those?), who was holding onto the low bar (the edge of the end table) - just like her gymnastics coaches help her. She coached all the babies on the uneven bars before church, and then she did it again after nap. This seems to be the go-to game right now. I'm glad, and I'm waiting to hear if her anxiety level was lower as she went into class this morning.

She also hit me with a new one, as she woke up from her nap yesterday.
EGR: Mom, does God wear a yellow shirt?
Me: Umm. Well. I guess he might. I don't know what color shirt God wears.
EGR: I sink it's yellow with black spots.
Me: What makes you think that?
EGR: I don't know. I just do.

Okay then. I never got any other explanation. Was she dreaming about God? Was there a picture of someone at church that she thought was God in a yellow shirt? I have no idea.

She still pronounces the "th-" sound as an "s-", as in "Sank you Lord for feeding me" or "I sink...." It's cute. Most of her speech is perfectly clear now, but she still has a few letter combinations that come out sounding like she's 3 instead of 10. The funny letter sounds are another of those baby/toddler things that I grieve the passing of because it's just so final when they are gone. It's still amusing every day when she says a new word and uses it in the correct context (she's taken a liking to "apparently" lately), but it's a different kind amusing than hearing her call her new baby brother "'uke" because she can't say the "L" sound, and then "Wuke" because she still couldn't say it, and now she does. She calls him "Luke" or "Luker" or "Nooooooo!" He answers to all three.

Speaking of things I grieve the passage of, the crawling phase is over. Officially. Luke now enters rooms on foot. And he runs. If he knows he can make the distance, he runs. He also waves and says, "Dada." He previously said, "Bye bye" while waving, but I guess since we wave to Daddy every morning, he now says "Dada." He calls the kitties "dog-dog" and he struggles with his soft touch. They lay there and take it, though, when he grabs their ears or handfuls of their fur. Georgia runs if he comes near her. It makes him so mad.

It was a good weekend at home. Now, we'll gear up again for more birthday parties, the first day of school, and a birth!