Photo Therapy

Some days, when you’re feeling a little overwhelmed by life…when your heart is breaking for dear friends who are going through unbelievable trials…when you don’t know quite how to help a sad child…when you’ve had one emotional conversation too many…when all you want to do is climb back under your covers…

Sometimes, on those days, it helps to do something a little therapeutic. For me, that can mean picking up my camera and capturing something beautiful.

It’s been a rough summer, weather-wise. Dry, dry, dry. Of course, we picked this summer to plant gardens here at our new house. At least one plant didn’t make it. Others struggled. We often wonder which perennials will actually have the wherewithal to come back next year.

But our marigolds have thrived. In fact, they’ve practically taken over. It’s as if they’re saying, “Drought? What drought? Everything is just fine.”

And on the tired days, the weary days, their hearty growth bright splash of color lift my spirits and remind me that God is good. And that He is always at work, in all things.

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Keepin’ It Real

I’m going to be honest with you: This spring — the spring of 2012 — is not shaping up to be one of my favorite seasons ever. Not at all.

Just as I am recovering from my broken elbow and sprained wrist, just as the doctor told me I can start doing some more normal, everyday things, we are struck by illness. Two weeks ago, L.(5) got a stomach bug and then C.(13) was struck with something (something that, thankfully, passed quickly).

Also, I am now two weeks into fever and extreme coughing that show no signs of abatement. The folks at the local clinic tell me that I might have whooping cough (which is going around our area — yippee!), or I might have bronchitis, or I might have something viral that is just really nasty. Regardless of the true nature of the infection I’m fighting, they put me on three medications. I sure hope one of them brings me some relief.

The hard part is the lack of sleep. If I so much as slightly recline, my coughing spasms kick into a high and relentless gear. So I spend my days — and my nights — in an upright position, hoping that the exhaustion will win out over the coughing and the odd sleeping position, and that I’ll be able to accumulate more than three or four hours of sleep over the course of a night. I know that if I got some decent sleep, the days would not seem so overwhelming.

Sadly, L.(5) just came down with another fever today. I don’t even want to know what it will become. I hope it’s not whatever I have — I wouldn’t want to see his poor frame wracked with these breath-stealing coughs.

Here’s something else I’ll be honest about: I don’t want to be a whiner. Okay, in the interest of full disclosure, there is definitely a part of me that wants to whine, to complain about the unfairness of one little struggle after another.

But no, on the whole, I don’t want to be a whiner. I don’t want to be a person (or have a blog) characterized by whiny-ness.

I told my husband today that I know God has things to teach me, but that, apparently, I am a slow learner. Perhaps He needs to keep me slowed down, at home, in complete reliance on Him. Perhaps I need a greater helping of patience, of contentment, of gratitude.

Wouldn’t it be nice if God would just fix us while we sleep? If we could get a supernatural injection of the character and integrity and godliness that we need? If patience were implanted into us while we dream, or full reliance on God were something we just woke up to?

But God uses the circumstances of this life — the good ones, the difficult ones, the little annoyances and interruptions, and the heartbreaking situations — to draw us to Himself and to make us more like Jesus.

So today, while I pray for healing and recovery here in this house, I also pray that God would use this time for good, that He would redeem these weeks for His glory and our (my) growth.

And I turn to some Bible verses that I relied on heavily after my initial injury. I share them with you today, just in case you are going through a hard time. You may be going through something incredibly challenging and heartbreaking (and, in fact, I know that several of my readers are facing seemingly-insurmountable heartaches). Or, like me, you might just be feeling overwhelmed by the buildup of one little struggle after another. Either way, I hope these words help to remind you of the One who sees you and loves you.

My flesh and my heart may fail,
but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
- Psalm 73:26

Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you.
- 1 Peter 5:7

Those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
- Isaiah 40:31

Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life?
- Luke 12:25

…All the days ordained for me were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
- Psalm 139:16

Be joyful in hope,
patient in affliction,
faithful in prayer.
- Romans 12:12

God is our refuge and strength,
an ever-present help in trouble.
- Psalm 46:1

Grace along the way

Well, I promised an arm update on Friday and totally dropped the ball on that one. That should teach me to not make bloggy promises at this point in my life!  But without further ado, here’s the current status of my arm:

My elbow fracture(s) are not yet healed, though my doctor was hoping they would be by 6 weeks. So that means that for now, I’m still not allowed to do anything weight-bearing with my arm. No opening jars, carrying laundry baskets, etc. However, the fracture is healing in “almost perfect” alignment, which is fantastic news, and makes it more and more likely that surgery will not be needed. My wrist is sprained more badly than originally thought, so that means more patience, more rest, more time. I started physical therapy last week, for both my elbow and wrist. I have 3 appointments per week, plus exercises to do twice a day, followed by icing, so my schedule is filling up with all things arm-related. But after just a few days, I had gained a few degrees of flexion in my elbow (YAY!). I have quite a way to go yet, but the progress gives me hope and motivation!

***

Now for the real point of this post. I wanted to take some time to list a few of the many things I’m thankful for, as I look back over the past 7+ weeks since I first fell and injured myself. It’s easy to complain; it’s easy to get discouraged. But it’s also easy to be thankful, because God’s grace is abundant and obvious. Here are just a few ways He has shown me grace:

  • My amazing husband and kids. Seriously, they have been fantastic. They help around the house, make sure I’m comfortable, pray for me, encourage me, carry things, fold things, lift things, move things, vacuum things, fix things, open things, close things. And they love me, even when I’m feeling particularly useless and unloveable.
  • Friends and family. So many people have been there for me. My mom has watched L.(5) while I’ve gone to numerous doctor appointments (in addition to all the usual babysitting she does). Friends and family members have checked in on me, prayed for me, helped me. One friend insisted on preparing (and carrying) my coffee at a recent meeting. Two others told me (they didn’t ask, they just insisted) that they would be bringing us dinner — the dinners were delicious, by the way. Other friends helped us at a church dinner I took the boys to while Chad was out of town — everything from pouring my drink to cutting up L.’s chicken. In countless big and little ways, I’ve been so blessed by those around me.
  • This day and age. This might sound shallow, but I’m thankful to be living in a time when we have dishwashers and washing machines, automobiles and microwaves, even a laptop computer. I take these conveniences for granted far too often, but when folding a load of laundry starts taking three times as long as it used to, you quickly become thankful for all the time-saving gear we have at our disposal.
  • Adaptation. It’s amazing how skilled you become at using your non-dominant hand when you really need to. I’m becoming a pro at left-handed makeup application, coffee preparation, driving, typing, and peanut-butter-and-jelly-sandwich-making. Handwriting…well, that would take longer. Thankfully, I’m now able to use my right hand for short periods of writing and typing, so no one has to worry about deciphering too much of my left-handed scribbling.
  • Time. Because there is much I either cannot or am not allowed to do, I find myself with some additional time sitting around. Yes, some of it is at the physical therapist’s, but still, it’s time. It’s been a blessing to use that time for more reading, more praying, more pondering.
  • Progress. Admittedly, these seven weeks have been a very looooong seven weeks. The journey to full recovery seems achingly slow at times. Yet there is progress. The pain has gradually decreased, my flexibility is slowly returning, and I will hopefully be back to semi-normal function within the next month or two. The progress has been gradual, but it’s there, and I’m so thankful for it.

Those are just a few things I’m thankful for. I could list many more, but this blog post is getting long. If you’ve read the whole thing and you’ve been following along with me the last month-and-a-half, thank you!  Though I know I’m a sporadic poster even during the best of times, my forced break has made me miss this blog quite a bit, and I hope to post a bit more regularly as healing allows!

How to Fracture Your Elbow, in Three Easy Steps

Step 1

Follow your usual nighttime routine. After everyone is in bed, get a cup of water for your nightstand, turn off all the lights in the house, and make sure the front door is locked. Proceed to the front door in the dark, since you know your way around the house very well, thankyouverymuch.

This is key: Forget that a very large, very heavy box was delivered today, and is likely still sitting in the entryway, a few feet in front of the front door.

Step 2

Trip over aforementioned very large, very heavy box. Realize that you are unable to get your feet back under you because the box is too big. Insanely clutch that cup of water, because spilling water would be undesireable.

Step 3

Catch yourself — all your weight, all your momentum — on the front door with your right arm. Attempt to hold yourself up with that arm while gravity insists on pulling you down. Also, drop cup of water as the pain makes you forget everything around you.

***

There you have it. That’s all it took. I’ll save you some of the gory details, but between the impact and the battle between my arm and gravity, I managed to fracture my elbow (technically a “radial head fracture”), sprain my wrist, and damage all sorts of things in between my wrist and elbow.

It happened in about one second, and has drastically impacted my life over the last three weeks…and for the foreseeable future. I do not recommend following the above steps in your own home. At all!

I am not a screamer. When I get hurt, I’m more the type to grit my teeth and mutter incomprehensible things under my breath. But that night, I yelled. I woke Chad up, I made C.(13) run out of his room to see what in the world was going on. It was out of character for me, but in hindsight, was understandable. My orthopedist has declared my injury “significant,” so some yelling and some tears were certainly justifiable.

Three weeks in, I’m hanging in there. There has been a whole lot of pain and discomfort, and I’ve lost a huge amount of the range of motion in my right arm (can’t straighten it and can barely bend it past 90 degrees). I can do very, very little with my right arm at this point .

And I may or may not need surgery. Elbows are apparently notorious for being difficult. At any point during the healing process, the bone parts could displace, resulting in a need for surgery (essentially replacing the end of the fractured bone with some prosthetic part). At the one-week mark, it had been healing well, but the doctor said that just meant “no surgery…yet.” Today, we’ll take another look.

In the midst of this whole ordeal, there have been some very bright spots. God’s grace is abundant, and I’ll blog more about those bright spots another day.

I will say, though, that I know my injury did not catch God off guard. The day I was born, He knew that at age 38, I’d have a painful encounter with a door, and would struggle with pain, discouragement, and questions, while finding myself thankful for His grace and faithfulness, and the kindness and help of others. I firmly believe that He weaves things together for His glory, and for the good of those who are His. I pray that my eyes and heart would be open to what He has to teach me.

Forgiveness from a five-year-old

I got L.(5) settled into bed Friday night, following the usual routine.

Jammies were on, teeth were brushed, and Daddy got his hugs and kisses. Then the two of us climbed into L.’s bed and read one of my personal favorites, Calvin Can’t Fly.

We talked about starlings and flying and books, and we giggled a bit.

But before L. started his bedtime prayer, I had to tell him something.

“L.,” I said. “Can you look at me?”

“Yeah, mom?” he asked, turning so his blue eyes took in my gaze.

“I need to tell you that I’m really sorry for yelling at you earlier today. Remember when I did that?”

“Yeah. When you were putting the bikes on the car.”

***

Earlier in the day, I’d had the bright idea to take both boys to the local bike trail, so the three of us could enjoy a little ride. The idea itself wasn’t bad, but perhaps the spontaneity wasn’t ideal.

I had never put the bike rack on the car before (Chad always does that). I had never put bikes onto the bike rack before (Chad always does that too).  It was hot. And my bike is heavy and shaped in such a way that it has to be put on the rack in a really weird way (and yes, Chad always handles that part, too).

C.(12) was incredibly helpful, but still, at one point I found myself sweaty, frustrated, and holding a heavy bike up in the air while realizing that my current approach to bike-rack-loading was simply not working.

L.(5) — not wanting me to forget his bike — pushed his bicycle over just then and stood with it, right next to me, right under the bike I was holding in the air.

And…I’m sure you can see it coming. Instead of responding with grace and kind concern, I yelled at him. I snapped at him. I ordered him to get back in the garage and just. wait. right. there.

He did. Patiently, he sat in the garage and waited until I finished loading bikes.

Ugh. I’m embarrassed to even recall it. It wasn’t a pretty moment. Yes, I was concerned that I would drop a bike on him. But was my response the right one? Far from it.

***

“That’s right, buddy,” I continued, smoothing his bed quilt where it lay on his shoulder. “When I was putting the bikes on the car. I yelled at you to get back in the garage and that wasn’t very nice of me. I should have spoken to you more kindly, and I should have let you know that I was concerned, instead of just sounding angry. I’m really sorry, L.”

“Mom?” he said. “I really, really forgive you.”

And that was that. As far as he was concerned, it was over.

***

I wish I could say that this incident was 100% out of character for me. I wish I could say that I never, ever yell at my kids, and that I always speak to them with just the right amount of gentleness mixed with just the right amount of firmness, surrounded with just the right amount of love.

But I can’t. I don’t think of myself as a “screamer,” but there are days, there are moments, when I respond out of frustration rather than love, when I’m quick to yell instead of quick to communicate. When I over-react. When I snap at my kids.

There have been other nights like last Friday, where we get to bedtime and I once again look one of my sons in the eye and apologize for my behavior.

And time after time, I’m amazed at their response. Yes, they remember the moments I’m apologizing for, but they don’t hesitate to forgive me. They don’t tell me that they’ll “try” to forgive me.

They just do.

Right away.

Completely.

And it’s over. No hard feelings. No grudges.

Just forgiveness. And love.

The forgiveness my children offer me is a grace that overwhelms me. It reminds me of the sure and complete forgiveness God offers us when we confess our sins to Him. It is more than I deserve.

And it spurs me on, makes me want to be a better mom, drives me to prayer, asking God for the grace and help to love my children better today than I did yesterday, and to love them better tomorrow than I do today.