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Monthly Archives: January 2012

Not Gonna Be a Pretty Week

This morning is my sleep deprived EEG. Not only did I have to wake up at two (and stay awake…sooo tempting to pull up a pillow as I walk by one dog curled up on the couch and another stretched lengthwise across my bed–brats), I’m not allowed any coffee, either. At least I’m allowed to eat and I could have decaffeinated tea, but all I have is chamomile and I’m afraid that would only make me want to go back to bed all the more. Water it is…


Even better, I’m not to use any hair products like conditioner, mousse, gel or hair spray today. They want your scalp clean and oil free. Guess the electrodes stick better that way? So, sleep and caffeine deprived, and untamed crazy hair. Better keep a low profile if I go anywhere near the psych ward….could be looking like an escapee!


Tomorrow I’m not allowed to wear makeup to my MRI…?? Apparently there could be small traces of metal in the cosmetics that would disagree with the giant magnet swirling around my head. You can bet I’ll be guzzling my coffee, though!


Friday, then, is my TEE, which I’m not allowed to eat or drink anything for six hours before the test, caffeinated or not, since they have to put me under for this three hour joy ride. Who signed me up for Torture Week? I’m not liking this at all…



FuFuzzy this morning. Up early, just past three. But I have this sleep deprived EEG coming up on Tuesday, so I thought it would be good practice to stay awake rather than lay back down and try to sleep more.


Listening to the rain, wishing it was snow, though it’s peaceful, the patter on the skylights. Soothing. Curled around upside down, twisted Tucker, stretching strong, skinny legs, begging belly rubs, kissing whiskery chin. Ruby snuffling in her sleep half under the bed.


Hubby comes home today–our last weekend together before he goes north for good until the house sells. Always this house selling…the waiting…my heart some six hundred miles away. We’ve done this before, just not with this added twist of complications in the mix. Trying to reclaim the wind in my sails again…


God comforts me. Surrounds me with friends who encourage me, strengthen me. Holding me up when everything underneath me is falling, slipping, raining away….He has me. They catch me, carry me, help me bear this burden…I am humbled and grateful.


In the unknown of tomorrow, I am reminded of His plans, His provisions. My desktop calendar quotes Jeremiah 29:11. This morning’s blog post at (In)Courage declares the same. The past few years God has drawn me ever closer knowing this time would come…that I would need Him to see me through and He reminds me once more I am His.


Sleep Eludes Me

I don’t know if this is from stress or perimenopausal or just another symptom of whatever is going on with me, but I’ve not been sleeping well at all lately. I head to bed around eight, light a vanilla spice tea light, read a little, play a little Words With Friends, squeeze in between Tucker and Sweet Pea, burrow under the covers, and off to la-la land…for a few hours.


Eleven o’clock rolls around and I’m awake and burning up. I don’t want to open my eyes because I’m afraid of the clock. I don’t want to see I’ve only been asleep a few hours and have the entire night yet ahead of me. I give in, force my eyes open. Evil clock angrily glaring a little past eleven back at me. I groan. I push down the covers and swap out pillows for one that feels cooler, try to turn over between the two dogs pinning my legs under blanket and comforter. I shut my eyes, offer up a prayer for some help to fall back to sleep, then toss and turn until finally drifting off again for another few hours.


Same thing happens all over again around two. Burning up once more and even angrier, I don’t know if I’d be better to get up for a little while, or to just stay in bed. I look at my phone, maybe somebody left me a text in the middle of the night. Not usually. Everyone else is sleeping. The dogs are snoring. The heat comes on and blows raucously. I’ve given up my ear plugs since Bill is away, just in case Michael would need me during the night. Maybe that’s part of it. Maybe the noise of the dogs snoring and the heat blowing is what’s waking me up.


I resign myself to try to get back to sleep. Drink whatever remains in my water bottle from bedtime. Lay half covered, half uncovered, crookedly wrapped around and between the dogs-no wonder my back protests in the morning. Hoping the clock will read some time after four the next time I look upon it…I don’t like this getting old business, not one bit.


Be Still

“Be still, and know that I AM God.”

~Psalm 46:10


Everything is calling me to ‘be still’ lately. Bible studies, blogs, devotionals, life-in general-calling me to stop, just stop. Enough so that I am trying to be still. I created my peace retreat, though, I have to confess I’ve yet to really retreat. It’s pretty. And that candle smells oh so good. I pop in for a prayer. I scribble a few lines in the journal. I’ve not really stopped to linger. There’s so much going on…I feel restless if I slow down for just a minute, let alone five–who has five minutes??


Just writing this post, I had to get up and drain the chicken stock I’ve had simmering on the stove all afternoon, then toss on a pair of jeans before it’s time for me to head to the bus stop to pick up Michael. From there I have to run back to the doctor’s office to pick up the paperwork for the slew of tests they want me to have done to begin testing for MS, then head over to have a chest X-ray and blood drawn before my appointment with the neurologist tomorrow morning. Then it’ll be home and homework and dinner and bathtime, then finally, exhausted, dropping into bed. Then I’ll be still. I won’t be concious, but I’ll be still…


So, so thankful God has a sense of humor….


But God is certainly telling me to make Him a greater priority in my day and in my life. I’m trying. I’ve started praying at set times throughout the day–even though I’ve had to set my alarm to remind me! At nine, noon, and six my phone goes off and I kneel down in my little retreat space and offer up a few words of gratitude and praise. Today’s been sprinkled with a few tears looking ahead at the coming week, praying for strength to see us through. And I know He will…He always does. He gives me words of encouragement and reminds me of all the times He’s carried me in the past, He won’t leave me now.


I lift up my eyes to the mountains—

where does my help come from?

My help comes from the LORD,

the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip—

   He who watches over you will not slumber;

indeed, He who watches over Israel

will neither slumber nor sleep.

The LORD watches over you—

the LORD is your shade at your right hand;

the sun will not harm you by day,

nor the moon by night.

The LORD will keep you from all harm—

he will watch over your life;

the LORD will watch over your coming and going

both now and forevermore.

~Psalm 121



I haven’t talked to my brother in almost a year and a half. After he made some pretty poor personal decisions that have gravely affected his family, his children…scarring deep. I tried talking to him then, to make him see what he was doing wrong, how he was hurting those around him, but he refused to hear. He’s always had all the answers and he’s never, never wrong. So we’ve simply shut each other out of our lives. He’d gone his way, I went mine.


In that time I’ve raged angry, judging him, condemning. And at other times, calmer times, I’ve notioned that I’ve not lived the perfect life. I’ve made some pretty poor personal decisions in my forty-four years. And I’d been pretty stubborn when others tried to steer me back in the right direction. Had to crash pretty hard before picking up scattered, shattered pieces, put myself back together. Thought I knew it all, too. Oh, how little I knew….


So, I thought maybe I should try to reconcile before we all head to New England. I don’t know, at least talk it out. But I don’t have his number anymore and he no longer has mine. I can’t message him on Facebook because he has me blocked. I sent a message to his girlfriend and got back a less than welcoming response. Bitter pills we have to swallow.


I found an old bookmark the other day that has 1 Corinthians 13: 4-6 on it: Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.


It keeps no record of wrongs…Oh, but I do. Tally ’em up tall and high. And I hold on tight. Justified. I thought I was in the right, not forgiving because the wrong wasn’t done against me, it was done against his family, against God. I didn’t have to forgive him. He has others to answer to when that time comes calling.


Still, are we not called to love others as God loves us?


“So now I am giving you a new commandment: Love each other. Just as I have loved  you, you should love each other”. ~John 13:34


God loves me in spite of my mistakes and bad decisions, and I certainly haven’t come up all sparkly, shiny, and perfect all of a sudden. I’ve got my share of ugliness still happening–working on it, but have a long way to go…


Whether he decides to talk to me or not, I tried. I am offering love. As I am loved.



Back to Normal

How do your find your way back to normal once normal’s beat a hasty retreat out the back door? I really need to know. I made an appointment with the neurologist for next Monday, the soonest they could get me in unless the doctor looks at my chart and thinks I need to be seen sooner. So I’m waiting…hoping for a cancellation so I can get some answers a little quicker…


Meanwhile, the world seems to have slid off kilter. I don’t feel like me. Maybe that’s the Ativan. It’s almost like an outer body sensation…I’m going through the motions but I don’t feel attached to the activity. And my short term memory seems to have taken a vacation without me (rather rude, I think…) I tucked a few ‘valuables’ away before our showing Sunday, then for the life of me, I had zero recollection of where I had stashed everything! Michael wanted his PSP but I couldn’t remember where I’d put it, along with my digital camera. I knew I’d tucked my Kindle in the nightstand–for some reason that stayed with me, but we ran frantic all around the house that night trying to find the missing electronics! Finally I discovered them safely stashed with my Kindle–why I didn’t look there in the first place is beyond me–I truly thought I had put his PSP in his room…


Yesterday morning it was my MP3 player that evaded me. Spent a good half hour digging upstairs and downstairs, emptying purses, rummaging through drawers–no, that hadn’t made it to the safety of the nightstand…Drove me bananas as my pressure went up trying to recall where I’d put it. Now, when I’d run, I kept it in my dresser with my pepper spray, whistle, and phone case–but I haven’t run outside in months. I decided to take a look anyway…and there it sat, tucked away with my new matching earbuds I’d gotten for Christmas. I wanted to listen to Adele…something to calm me down.


Bill flew off yesterday morning to Long Island for the week, and this coming weekend will be the last that he’ll be home until we get the house sold. However long that might take…He’s feeling guilty for leaving and I’m feeling guilty for making him feel guilty–he shouldn’t have to worry about us here at home. There’s no reason I shouldn’t be able to take care of Michael and the house, the birds and the dogs, and life be smooth sailing–for the most part, there’s always a road bump or two, but not a head on collision like this. I just want to wake up, shake it off, whip on my running shoes and hit the road for a few good miles, and life be back to normal. Where did that go?? How did I lose that?


Then Michael and I had to have a fight before he got on the bus to school…as if the stress of moving isn’t enough for him, now he’s got a mom freaking out with seizures to wig him out even more. Yet somehow I expect him to get his act together and try to make this whole situation a little easier on us–no pressure for a ten year old, right??


I just want normal back…please…


I can’t stop looking. The beauty, the gift God sent through the night. Snow, pristine and perfect, world wrapped in white, pure. So simple what makes my heart happy, feel like a child once more on Christmas day to see the trees sparkling, diamond light glistening. Humble, peaceful.


I love snow. I melt watching it fall from the sky, lighting on branches, coating the yard, the street, whatever lay immobile beneath. Ruby comes in from outside frosted over with flakes, white on white, I smile.


And people have to steal that joy. Complain about the cold, the drive. Why are people so ugly, so hurtful? Why is it so hard to let another be happy? To enjoy such a beautiful simple gift? I don’t begrudge them their summer, their heat, their sun. This is my season. My joy. Everyone is different, we love what makes us glow inside, unique. Let me enjoy what makes me happy.


I am turning a deaf ear to the negative, the complaints, the ugliness. I am listening for the song, beautiful on high, music in my heart, peace in my soul. I am listening for Him.


Whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely or admirable-if anything is excellent or praiseworthy-think about such things. ~Phillipians 4:6