Thankful...('Tis the Season?)

Oh, the "thankfulness" trend that strikes Facebook every November! It's almost as if to say, "I'll find something to be thankful for this month...but the other 11 months of the year, I'm using Facebook as my personal barf bag of whine."
(Cynical, Cass? Sheesh, that's sarcastic even for me!)
I'm kidding...mostly! I've been listening to the Bobby Bones show on The Bull, in the morning. It's hilarious-it's a far cry from the political garbage I had been assaulting my brain with, and it keeps me entertained while I'm on the long drive. This morning, he was talking about weird things that people whine about on Facebook, and I so understood!
Disclaimer: I have bronchitis, and I was griping about it yesterday on Facebook. So, I'm totally guilty of this from time-to-time. I'm willing to admit that I will occasionally use Facebook as a soapbox in my pity party. I'm sorry, and I will try to do better.
Bobby Bones talked about how he blocks the chronic complainers, and I had to wonder if that's me? How often do I complain on social media? Even if it's a little bit, it needs to change, right? Especially as a Christian:  "Yeah, everybody! Find Jesus like I did--isn't my life AWESOME?!?!?"
Um, NO.
Fail.
This doesn't mean I'm relinquishing my love of Grumpy Cat...but it definitely means I will be rethinking my posts even more than I already do. And he has me thinking about blocking the feed of the chronic complainers that I know on Facebook...You know, the ones who never say anything good or happy...the ones that criticize everything...the ones that rain on everyone else's parade? It's too awkward to unfriend them, because I know they'd know...So, thanks to Mr. Bones, I'm going to start blocking people that I find depressing. And I'm going to determine more than ever to be the opposite of that. You should WANT to be my friend on Facebook. You should find me uplifting, amusing, and some kind of a testimony, no matter how broken I am. Even broken things can be used as vessels for something.
I usually try to keep it humorous on Facebook, as a rule, because no matter what, life is funny. There's ALWAYS something to laugh at....you just have to look really, really hard to find it, sometimes.
In this season of thankfulness, though, I wanted to jump on the bandwagon. You see, this just might be my favorite holiday (besides Christmas) in spite of the sad memories that go along with it. Thanksgiving, 11/28, marks 7 years since my beautiful princess Hannah passed away. It's been 7 years since we said goodbye, and those memories are never far from my brain.
This Thanksgiving will be the first truly Happy Thanksgiving we've had ever since, and I am so excited to celebrate it. My in-laws throw the conventional celebration (with the best stuffing and Fried Turkey that you could EVER dream of), with too many people in too small of a house...with paper plates, and loud noises, and lots of family. It will be crowded, sweaty, and fun, and I will be chasing my little guy all over the place (he's mobile, and there are stairs).
My  mother will serve an incredible, beautiful feast of Lord-only-knows what. I'm always both shocked and impressed at what makes its way onto her Thanksgiving table...It might be her super-cheesy broccoli noodles, or Hawaiian bread, or Chinese cole slaw--who knows? What stays the same every year is that it is a lovely gathering of the ones who I hold most dear in my life...And I will be chasing my little guy all over the place, in a much larger house that offers many more shiny things for him to crawl toward.
I can't wait to make these memories. I'm so thankful for my families...for my Mom, who takes care of my little guy several days a week...who always takes care of me...who drives me crazy in the best and worst of ways, and who always points me to Jesus...who has taught me more about serving than anyone on this planet...I'm thankful for my Dad, and for his gruffness...for teaching me to stand up for myself, and that you can do anything you set your mind to, if you have the right tools (what are those?!?). I'm thankful for my in-laws, and for their kindness in helping us through difficult financial times...for their willingness to share their blessings with all of their kids, and for never shaming us when we've had to ask for help.
I'm looking forward to this Thanksgiving with such hope and such happiness...there is more to be thankful for in this season than most people know. David and I are changing directions in how we look at need....what do we really "need," and what do we we really "want?" It's a frustrating transition, but it's a necessary one. I'm thankful to have our needs met, and that our wants are honestly, few. We have each other; we have our little miracle guy. We have electricity, running water, and a refrigerator that's full.
Most of all, we have a Lord that has blessed us with His love...with His grace, which is so sufficient. He's blessed us with things like forgiveness, for when we take our griping to a public forum--of course we should do the same (and more often!) with our thankfulness!
I'm so thankful for my family. I'm thankful for the time I get to spend with all of them, and for a little bit of time off of work.
I'm thankful that we are creating new, happy memories to offset some very sad ones...but even those very sad memories have moments of brightness that I still recall, and that I'm grateful for.
Happy Thanksgiving to you all...I am grateful for my friends who remind me, one way or another, that every day deserves a laugh...
Proverbs 31: "She can laugh at the days to come."
That's true....but sometimes I think there's just as much value in being able to laugh at the days past...

Croup.

I’m totally drowning in ADD today, which should serve as your warning to NOT expect cohesive thoughts in this blog. In fact, I think I’m writing this strictly because I need to get linear.

We had our first illness with JD this week.

For all of the haters out there that expected me to fall apart at the first sign of illness, take a leap. I did just fine. I didn’t overreact and rush my son to the ER; I didn’t hyperventilate or start a prayer chain at 2:00 am. I didn’t even really have too much of an issue with flashbacks.

I’m kind of proud of myself—I embraced the grace, and got it done. I did my “Mom” thing (with a LOT of help from my Mom, who is officially The Wizard).

He started wheezing at 10; I asked David if we should do something. “What would we do?!? Go to bed,” was the groggy response. By midnight, my son was making this horrible, cat-like cry with a barking gasp for air.

Croup.

I googled it at first, because it’s what I thought it was; I took him outside, praying all the while that the cool, night air would help. Nope.

I called the doctor’s exchange, and was connected to the nurse hotline. A very kind, compassionate nurse could hear my poor boy over the phone, and dispatched us to the Emergency Room, where the official diagnosis was given, followed by breathing treatments and steroids. I texted my mother; she and my dad drove the 45 minutes to meet us at the hospital.

I think my parents saved our lives; at the least, they saved our sanity, because we needed them. Everything was starting to feel reminiscent—the ER, the mask, the horrible breathing—my thoughts were becoming attackers, and I needed my mom and dad to reground me.

JD was there for over 4 hours, for observation (they had to watch for reactions to the medication); he was released around 6 am, and we all went back to my house to grab some sleep.

I had my own medical plans for the day; as my appointment that afternoon drew closer, I noticed that Bug’s breathing was starting to sound bad again, so I called the pediatrician. They recommended us to Cardinal Glennon…and that’s where I lost it. Totally.

David was at work; my mom was napping, and it was just me and Dad in the living room. One mention of “Cardinal Glennon,” and my fragile psyche crumbled. I pulled it together when nurse said I could take him to a different hospital that was closer—that was fine; I could handle that. After a second round of a stronger steroid, JD responded incredibly well, and we came home to baby that was much more like my little guy.  He’s still raspy; we have 5 days before this virus gets out of his system. But, he’s playing, eating, and doing what he’s supposed to do, so I’m happy with that…

Anyway, while my mom stayed with us a few days, he did really well; last night, I think he had a bad night, and it took me hours to get him back to sleep. As I write this from my sleep-deprived-and-Starbucks-fueled brain, I can’t help but reflect on the sheer panic that went through me at the mention of Glennon. I mean, it wasn’t even rational; it was a total flashback/PTSD moment that was crippling. Seeing your child so miserable really does rip your heart out. It’s a terrible, horrible feeling of helpless hell.

I know we aren’t guaranteed a perfect life. We will encounter illness, owies, bumps, bruises, and potentially, breaks (with a boy, that’s pretty much guaranteed). I don’t think that JD is the one who’s going to need to toughen up…

Pretty sure that’s going to be me.

Christmas Catalogs and Margaritas...

This blog started as a reflection of how I spent my late daughter’s birthday, but as I started to write it, it transitioned. 

I’m not going to lie—I’ve been struggling lately. Church is the last place I want to be, even though I really like it. I don’t want to hug, or smile, or act like I’m fine; in fact, if you want the God-honest truth, what I really want is a night out with some girlfriends and some margaritas (and a cab). It’s not like me to want a drink…okay, multiple drinks…But lately, it’s not too far from my mind. I’m feeling overwhelmed, and a little misunderstood by those closest to me. It’s okay—they don’t have to understand me. I feel more alone than I should, but that’s because I’m not telling key people how I really feel. And it’s not like I want to dissolve into tears or anything (I can neither confirm nor deny that’s happened over the past few days) I don’t WANT to share how I feel…I want to hide in a corner—but I can’t, and that’s a good thing.

I have work to do…

And I have smiles waiting for me when I get home, that make me get my game face on and do what needs to be done.

After all—I’m a woman. Isn’t that what we always do?

The world can fall apart, but we will put our makeup on, and put our high heels forward. Our backs hurt; our feet hurt, and our head is splitting, but darn it, our kids are clean, the laundry’s done, and there’s money in the checking account (although Lord knows it’s not there for long). 

I have so much respect for my mother—she did it all, and she had to feel like she was stuck in the middle of a tornado.

I know I do.

How it’s possible, to have such joy co-habitating in my heart with such temporary sadness, I don’t know. I know that I don’t focus on the sad parts too much; going to the cemetery on Hannah’s birthday was certainly a help, but it’s not easy.

There is more in this world that tells you you’re a terrible parent, than tells you you’re a wonderful parent…which just means there’s more in this world for me to ignore, because I’m doing my best.

Looking at the toy catalogs for this this year, I looked at Bug and shook my head: How in the world can I possibly give him his best life, when I know good and darn well that he’s going to grow up on Aldis and Target?!?

For just a few minutes, the room started to spin; then my Mama put me back in my place.

No, I can’t afford the fancy diapers or the name-brand formula.

Yes, I have mostly-second-hand cloth diapers that I use in conjunction with off-brand diapers and off-brand formula on my child that is dressed in clothes from Goodwill (as am I).

Yes, I drive a 15-year old car that has more cosmetic damage than I do.

No, I don’t go to fancy restaurants or even to the movies.

No, I don’t have cable.

My child will not be growing up with a Playstation or his own smartphone.  Our world is not one of organic, grass-fed Whole Foods steaks…Our world is one of Wal-Mart discounts and coupons, and maybe if you’re lucky, breakfast at Bread Co. or lunch at Crazy Bowls ($6! Yeah!).

As much as I want to give my son the world on a silver platter, it’s going to be a simple life..  

He’s not the only one that has to be happy with that—I have to be happy with that. Not only do I have to be happy with that; I have to be at peace with knowing that I am a good parent even though my child doesn’t have his own iPad (Heck, I don’t even have my own iPad! Full disclaimer: I have a Nook.). I’m not giving a toddler a $600 piece of electronic equipment to call his own, and I am not afraid to sit here and call that foolishness. JD is going to have to be happy with the toys that he has, and I am going to have to be happy believing that it’s not the toys that help him learn; it’s my interaction with him.

My fear is that our not buying him the coolest electronic toys will cause him to not be as technologically advanced as other kids his age, when he starts school…but I have to think that those kids that are exposed to that level of neuro-affecting electronics are probably at a higher risk of ADHD, so I’m probably on the right track.

I have to take every fear I have—even the silly ones—and give them to the Lord. I have to counter the fears and falsehoods with His truth and His reality. I have to take the sad moments, the moments when I look at our life with JD, and wonder how Hannah would have changed it, and I have to give those moments to Him before they wreck my world. I can’t sit here and dwell on them, because then I will become just as stuck as Lot’s wife.

I have to trust God.

I have to trust Him with everything from our dwindling bank accounts, to JD’s education and future, to my marriage, my car, and my job. I have to do what I do for Him, because I trust Him to take it and make it into something beautiful.

This is not the life I planned for me, but this is the life that I have.

And this is the life that I love.

I’m in a rough patch (man, those margaritas sound awesome), and even at its worst, I know it’s only temporary. I’ll be on the other side of it soon.

But even if it takes me a while to cross through, I know it will be okay.

God is still God; I am still not; and the world is so much better for that…

When I walk in my front door, I know that a few things will happen, no matter how awful the moment/day/week: JD will smile his beautiful, teething grin when he sees me. The dog will bounce and wag her tail, in a showing of total happiness.

The roof will still be over our heads, and the lights will still be on; there will still be food in the refrigerator, and the fact that it’s not name-brand organic food will not stop it from being delicious.

My son will drink his non-name-brand formula, and my dog will eat her name-brand dog food; I will wear my 5 year-old nightgown and drink water instead of wine.

We’ll watch Netflix  instead of cable, and we’ll enjoy one of the few expenses we  haven’t cut: wi-fi. We’ll talk about our day, and we’ll chase our son, and when we go to bed, we’ll thank the Lord that we’ve survived another work week.

And in my home that will never keep up with the Jones,’ we will fall asleep in a house that is rooted in Christ, and is full of love.

That, my friends, is happiness.