Quiet Friday night

The boys are in bed, Josh (our latest strep victim) is asleep on the couch in the living room - some cop show still on the TV, Cosmo is sprawled on the bedroom floor and I am listening to a custom mix of songs on my ipod. Another one of those nights, where I am tired on multiple levels and yet still sitting here with too many thoughts running through my head - tumbling over one another and mixing around. I'm tired for all of the usual reasons. It's been another busy week in a long string of busy weeks. A jumble of busy mornings, trying to get everyone ready and off to their respective destinations with the appropriate books, lunches and bags morph into chaos at work and trying to figure out what I need to get done in the allotted time (what can't wait, what can and what will just have to) with a segue back into picking up little boys who may or may not be happy to see me - they have rough days too - and on to the mad rush to complete homework, piano lessons, get everyone fed and cleaned up, maybe squeak in some play time and then off to bed. Nothing out of the ordinary, not for us, not for most households at our stage in life. Maybe that is what is troubling me a little bit tonight. We're living normal lives, for the most part. Sometimes that is confusing to me, like something isn't right. It's not supposed to be like this, not yet.

Tuesday I pulled into the driveway and noticed my daffodil shoots starting to push their tips up out of the ground and I stopped, just paused at the end of the driveway. I love noticing this for the first time and look forward to it every spring. It sounds cliche, but it always fills me with such hope and anticipation. I know living in Indiana that winter may have one or two last spells in store, but gray cold skies will soon give way to color and warmth and freedom from heavy coats, hats and scarves. Those little green tips are like someone sneaking in with a finger to smiling lips harboring a very special surprise. Spring is coming, it won't be long now. A year ago it meant that a long winter filled with anxiety was winding down and we might be able to breath easier - venture out and start living like a normal family. I compared it to the last couple miles of a marathon. This year when I saw these shoots, I wasn't sure how I felt. This winter was normal for us. Very little illness, certainly nothing we could not handle. It was supposed to be more of a worry. We still should have been concerned about bugs and respiratory illness and potential hospital stays. We didn't have to, but it seems that every time I talk to someone, check email or another blog, I hear or read of another family who is struggling the way I thought we might, or much worse. I think this year when I saw those shoots, my heart broke a little. Not for myself, but for them. They deserve to be where we are and God only knows why we've been so blessed. I have tried to be worthy, maybe that is the lesson I am grappling with. I feel a need to give more of myself and I am searching. I make sure that when I promise someone I will pray, I really do it. When I ask how they are doing, I really listen. I think I care more. I think so. This week I tested a baby and confirmed the results of a significant hearing loss already found in another clinic. As I discussed my findings with the mother and watched the struggle for acceptance in her eyes, I felt the professional and the mother in myself meld as tears began to well in my own eyes. I told her I didn't understand how she felt because none of my children had hearing loss, but I did know how I felt when someone told me my child was not "perfect". I knew that my words were both critical and completley unimportant. This moment was not about me, but what she needed. We talked for a little while, and although when she left she was not done mourning, I think her spine was already beginning to stiffen a little. She'd be fine. Her beautiful baby girl was diagnosed very early and would get the intervention she needed - and barring any other events, should grow up just like any other child. Unfortunately the child right after this one also had a significant loss, so barely an hour into the afternoon clinic I was feeling drained. I think it is a good thing I was too busy to think much the rest of the day.

Today I played outside with the boys and just let the "stuff" I had told myself needed to be done this afternoon just sit. We played basketball, rode bikes and just enjoyed the sunshine and the emerging spring. It is too soon for this weather to be permanent, there are cold days and possibly snow still in the forecast, but it's coming. So I'll quiet my fears and my misplaced guilt for now - like the cold, I know it'll resurface from time to time - and enjoy today. I'll continue to pray that others will feel the same hope that helps me shake off the winter bleakness and look forward to brighter days to come.