A Beautiful Mess

The new craft I decided to try looked whimsical, beautiful and charming.  Most importantly, it looked fairly easy to do! (That's why I chose it:)  But, it's not so easy. Or, maybe it's just that I'm really horrible at it.

Pretty sure I'm horrible at it...

The vintage silverware is beautiful to work with. It's old, it has a history. It comes with flaws. The lettering doesn't have to look perfect. It's supposed to be part of its charm.

Good thing.

Because I'm pretty horrible at it.

Someone recently encouraged me that it's new, I need to get the feel of it and that of course I will make mistakes!

It's just that I have to practice on the pieces themselves which can be a little costly (even though I am getting pretty good at finding interesting pieces for pennies on the dollar) and if it's a particularly beautiful piece it can be quite disappointing to see it end up in the practice pile.

My practice pile is getting to be a pretty sad beautiful mess....

This morning I had a little time and thought it would be cute to stamp "Humble Pie" on a lovely pie server. I stamped the E on backwards. What? That is just unacceptable. Talk about having a slice of humble pie...

But, I had to laugh at myself-it was pretty funny. (a few minutes later....:)

I'll keep trying. My beautiful mess pile will get smaller. I'll have pieces I'm happy with.
I come from a long line of creative women. I have a lot of ideas for these beautiful silver pieces.

And after all, I DID invest in this lovely PB wall organizer to keep it all a beautiful mess:

Talk about putting the cart before the horse:)

This morning, I thought about past mistakes. Why we make them..how we get over them and the need to forgive ourselves and those who's mistakes impact our own lives.

No one gets out of here alive without making a few. We are all flawed. I look down at my imperfect pieces of silver, still beautiful in many ways.

(stupid backward E:)

And then, I wrote this:

Mistakes..
They take you
Want to break you
Try to make you...
Into something you are not.

Tell their lies to you
Slip up beside you
And whisper....
"there is no way back"

But, you get up
You lift your head up
Tired of being fed up..
You're not defined by the past

You won't be suspended
In a time unmended
You'll take the scars..
And called them blessed.

That's when a strength is born..
From a beautiful mess.

Name By Name

In nightly prayers
I share my heart
Not always sure where to start

Prayers for those I am apart
Always fill this mother's heart

Safely in your care I know
This you promised long ago

In secret prayers to you, my Lord
You call my children my reward

And, so I prayed
Name... by name
Through whatever darkness came

There's a battle for the human soul
It sets a price, exacts a toll.

Prays fought out on bended knee
Power like the raging sea...

Dare you test this mother's faith?
I plan to stand and win this race

What's to gain in this long fight?
Added names to the Book of Life

And so I pray
Name..by name.

Birthday Boy

I can hardly believe this beautiful baby is seven years old today! Joy to the world! (Or at least to the Thomas family:)

 It certainly has been a journey into the unknown~ like to the Land of Polymicrogyria. No one goes there willingly. Lots of kicking and screaming into that place....

Don't forget to pack a few things...
Like your faith.
And don't forget Hope.
 Hope is something you never want to be without - not in is this strange land. Hope is like an outstretched hand in a dark room. You don't see it, can't always feel it, but just when you are about to fall into the abyss, it scoops you up, sets you on your feet again, positions you so you can see the tiny shaft of light spilling into the darkness. Then, you feel it. Hope.

When you get to this Land, you find a few things.
Friends.
New acquaintances.
Folks who are walking the same path as you.
Your new normal.
Support
Professionals who try to help you make sense of it all.
Your new understanding.

I'd like to leave this Land in which we are living. I'd like to plan the great escape. I pitched my tent here for a while, but now I'd like to break down camp and go to the Land of Normal and Healthy.

But, it's ok. I've packed my Hope. And after all, it's a birthday!

Before anyone else in the house woke up, Aidan and I had a little pre-birthday fun and he opened a present from his great-aunt and I pretended I was a skilled grandma tattoo artist.
I may have missed my calling...

Aidan is not well these days. No more walking down the hall to crawl in my bed for a morning story..because Aidan can't walk on his own. Can't stand on his own. Can't feed himself well because his shaking hand can't reach his mouth without the food spilling. But, he is happy. He is cheerful. He is full of love. He brings us joy.

There is more than one wish that passes in the breaths it takes to blow this number seven candle out.
(I've packed my Hope. I never leave home without it.)

" Hope has two beautiful daughters, there names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain as they are"~Augustin of Hippo

Good Gifts

“The proper definition of a man is an animal that writes letters.” 
― Lewis Carroll

Besides the twinkle lights, get togethers and just the basic "goodwill towards man" feeling that I get from the Christmas season, one of my favorite things are the Christmas cards filling my box.

It's the only time I may actually receive a letter or card from most of these people and I love that it's a way to keep up at least once a year.

Take for example these two families:

I'm changing their names and their identity (with my recently developed scrapbooking skills) just in case they don't appreciate being in my little blog:)

I've been following the lives of these two families for the last seven years. I do not know these people. I just read their Christmas letters.

They are addressed to the family who owned the house before I bought it and made it my little Blacksburg nest. That was seven years ago.

Seven.

Seven years ago...

What faithful friends! Writing to a family who never responds in kind.

I just googled: "Is opening someone else's mail a federal offense" and here is my answer:

"Yes, opening someone else's mail is considered a federal offense. If it is proven that you have tampered with mail, you can be incarcerated or fined. If you receive mail that isn't yours, please return the mail to the post office."

I would very much appreciate receiving  jail mail..

Every year I say I am going to write to them and let them know that their "friends" are long gone and I am not aware of any forwarding address.  But, time slips away and my good intentions are forgotten. Until, I get their Christmas letters the next year, and sit down and read about the lives of these fun people with a steaming cup of coffee:) My, how their children have grown!:)

Seven years is a long time in a child's life. I've watched most of them get through high school and go on to collage. (Good job mom and dad! Such upstanding citizens:)

But this year, this line struck me:

"The house continues to get bigger, quieter, and emptier."

Now, there's  a piece of a woman's heart squeezed and dripped out like ink onto a piece of paper.

I think its time I write to her.

Believe it or not, I enjoy working retail durning the Christmas season.

There is one woman I will never forget. We have an item called Precious Metal Prints. It's a little kit that comes with detailed instructions and a little form of clay to imprint your child's fingerprint (and now one for your doggies nose print:) which is turned into a metal charm to wear as a necklace. This woman's best friend just delivered her baby stillborn. She remembered we carried this product and came into the store to see if we had any in stock.  She only had a few hours to take it back to the hospital and get this tiny baby's toe print for her mama to wear around her neck.

So, life goes on. The thoughtfulness of that gift stays with me, Christmas season or not.

I think we all realize that in the mist of the merriment, there are the lonely and those grieving the ones they lost to death who won't be apart of the family this Christmas. And those that feel like even though the holiday centers around the birth of Christ and all that that means..God is distant. Quiet. Must have the mute button on.

Do you struggle with doubts? I know I do. Even Mother Teresa struggled with decade long doubts and talked about the "darkness of faith"and said "As for me, the silence and emptiness is so great that I look and do not see, listen and do not hear."

But, then God shows up.  He lets us know he is not being silent. He speaks through the gifts of others.

Here is how I am experiencing God's gift today and his listening ear. I just received a phone call from a young couple asking if they could come over and pray for Aidan.

Now there's a gift.

These young people are giving like Jesus.

How thoughtful.

Merry Christmas to you my friends! May peace reign in your lives today! May this year be good to  us all...and if it's not, may we know how to give good gifts....

"Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace"

On Prayer

Aidan went to a healing service this weekend.

Desperate people do desperate things.

It was a five hour drive into northern Virginia, close to DC with preachers who believe that Christians should walk in divine health~ as if it was their birthright. Never sick, not even a cold. I have a little headache right now as I type this. I'm obviously doing something wrong...

I didn't make the trip, but I understand the trip.

We are desperate people.

So, I stayed home and prayed for the miracle we have all been praying for.

I'm not sure what to think. Are my prayers inferior to theirs? Am I not putting the words in the correct order? Are they more godly than I? Why would God answer their prayers for Aidan's healing and not my own? Still, better take him...just in case.

The feeling is reminiscent of when I was in middle school and chain letters were hot to trot.
 ( A little middle school lingo for ya:)
Braking the chain of a chain letter held a fate far worse than what could happen if you broke a mirror, walked under a ladder while a black cat passed in front of you and god forbid you might step on a crack and break your poor mother's back...
I never REALLY believed in superstitions, or the emotional blackmail of these letters but, I obeyed the directions and got that chain letter out of my possession as fast as I would clean up spilt salt and throw a little pinch over my shoulder.

You know...just in case.

Oh, I want to believe there is a miracle for Aidan.

When I pray for Aidan, I become just like him. Speechless. My prayers drop from my eyes. Surely the Lord understands this language. Tears pour out when the heart can't bear one more thing and there are no words left.

Apparently, tears are an earthly thing. The bible says there will be no tears in heaven. The reason for them are forever wiped away. It makes me wonder what they might look like magnified  like this picture of sand.

Maybe the Lord will give us back our tears, in the form of beautiful gems in a jewel box. Just to prove that He saw every single one, and that something beautiful became of them.

If I were completely honest, I often feel like God isn't doing a very good job at being God. I mean, He is getting a little old. He's been around for....well, forever. Maybe His eyes are getting a little dim. I'm not sure He saw what happened tonight when Aidan hit the floor. Did He hear Aidan's cry? Or, is He getting a little hard of hearing..

They made the five hour trip back. No big miracle for Aidan, but we remain hopeful.

After all, that is what faith is all about. It comes with losses, lessons, second guesses, and doubt.  But, then there are the victories. I've heard that praise is often birthed from pain.

What casts out fear? Perfect Love does.

So, my prayer tonight is this:

Show me the wonder of your great love~ Psalms 17:7
Signed, A Desperate Believer.

One Step Forward

"

So...... I volunteered to go on a walking field trip today. This involved walking:) but if a bunch of short legged first graders could make the trek from Harding Elementary School to the library, surely this short legged grandmother could.

Aidan was excited to see me which made it all worth it, but I notice he was a little wobbly as he walked towards me. I was pretty sure I would be doing some carrying on the way back.

Usually, when Aidan and I walk, we like to stop for a little motivational/inspirational/encouraging little snack at Bollo's. I wondered how I might present this idea to the group. You know, make it educational. For instance:

"If Mrs. Ahma Thomas had three cookies, and she gave you one...how many Weight Watchers Points would she need to confess to at her next meeting?"

Anyway, we're off! I position myself between the only other grandmother and a mom who is also a nurse;)  I had Hoopie Ride on speed dial..

Aidan was fascinated with the construction workers, motorcycles and the "fast" cars. "Fast" is one of Aidan's favorite signs. He uses it about twice as much as he does the sign for  slow, which often happens when we are in the car together. He claps his hands to get my attention, I look over my shoulder, and he uses the sign for slow. "Ok Aidan" (geez, everyone's a critic:)

I was fascinated by the black thong on the sidewalk on Washington Street. We all noticed it. Stepped over it. Pondered it. No need to comment on it; this was a family affair.....

This wasn't just any walk to the library. This included a lecture on what the library is all about! It was a nice little refresher course for me as I have not been to the library in a very long time. (due to an unfortunate HUGE library fine) The librarian read two stories and then gave the good news: All the children will receive their very own library card and may check out two books!

And then this catches my eye:

A coffee bar at the library. Heaven. Why didn't I have a dollar? Oh yeah, I walked here...
I looked around. My favorite Motown song popped into my head: "Aint Too Proud To Beg"
Tempted..and encouraged by the Temptations, but I came to my senses. I promised myself a nice cup of coffee at Mill Mt. Coffee and Tea if I could actually make the trip back.

It was time for Aidan to use his library card for the first time! I tried to show Aidan the books I enjoyed with my children. Indian In The Cupboard, Ralph The Mouse, but not even Ralph And The Motorcycle got his attention. He wanted cars. Fast cars.

When Aidan is happy, I'm happy.

Nothing like sitting and reading with a good friend. A Princess friend:) Part of the reason I like these activities with the class is to see how the other children relate to Aidan and to see for myself the group dynamics. I was happy to see how kind they were. One boy walked up to me and said "I think I know where you can find the Monster Truck books!" (That boy new something about Aidan!) Some of them asked me questions about him, which is to be expected.

It was a lot of stimulation and activity for Aidan. He got increasingly wobbly and shaky as the time pasted, but he was happy to carry his bag with his books and new library card inside.

When Aidan is happy, I'm happy.

We started our walk back, and Aidan fell.

God.

I held his hand and we started off again. He fell a second time. I felt like his little arm might come right out of its socket as I tried to brace his fall.

Did you see that God?

One foot looked like it was turned inward. It was sort-of floppy. His balance was way off.

What is this Lord?

Aidan knew something was wrong.  He gave me the "what?" sign.

I often give God the "what?" sign..along with the "why?" sign.

I lifted him up on my hip and began the walk back.
I'm stronger than I think.

He tucked his head into my neck. I whispered into his ear and asked if he was hungry. He nodded and added the sign for juice. I told him he needed to eat all of his lunch today so he would grow and become strong! Get those BIG muscles like his uncles! And I thought  to myself,  "So you can walk a straight line."

 As if it were that easy. Eat a piece of protein = walk, like everyone else. Drink from a water fountain or drink from a straw..two more things Aidan can't do.

Do you see Lord?

The neurologist tried to prepare us for this. Little bumps in the road. "The medicine will work for a time, then the brain will figure it out and find new paths to take to cause a seizure." And, it will start all over again..the falling, the shakiness, the spaced out look.

I'm tired of this Lord.
Aren't you?
Do something.

I hear nothing but silence. But, I can't not believe..because then I have nothing. So, I keep this song in my heart:

"You are my strong tower
Shelter over me
Beautiful and mighty
Everlasting King
You are my strong tower
Fortress when I'm weak
Your name is true and holy
And Your face is all I seek

In the middle of my darkness
In the midst of all my fear
You're my refuge and my hope
When the storm of life is raging
And the thunder's all I hear
You speak softly to my soul"

And it helps. 

Sparrow

This wasn't a very good morning. I'm sick with something today. I am very thankful it's my day off and I can rest.

But, it's Aidan's first day of 1st grade! We are excited around here..even with a fever:)

Knowing that things rarely go smoothly, we adjust to the fact that they have Aidan on the wrong bus schedule. No one answers the phone at transportation. No one seems to know what's going on.

I've been told about this squeaky wheel.
I don't want to have to be the squeaky wheel.
I just want things to go right.

We live 5 minutes from the school. We could easily drive Aidan, but he loves the bus. He gets excited about a bus ride. (Today he signed that he would like a green bus. I told him it would probably be yellow:)

We finally hear last night that the bus will arrive at 8:20
At 8:55,  I'm loading him into the car when the bus comes around the corner.

The bus driver does not look happy. She has had bad morning.
Aidan's aide on the bus does not aide- because she is busy talking on the phone.
She doesn't look up. She doesn't stand up. She is busy talking on the phone.

Oh! How I miss last years wonderful driver and aide. The ones Busboy would call hags:)  I'm sure he would have plenty to say about these women. I could have said a few things....squeak like a wheel. (I clearly need to learn a few more signs:)

They don't speak to Aidan. I walk with him to his seat. His mother hands the aide his backpack.
She's busy talking on the phone.

Well, now I'm getting hot. It's a hot flash, mixed with a fever, mixed with a grandma wanting Aidan to be welcomed, but instead he gets two grumpy old 'hags".

I'm feeling overwhelmed. I collapse into bed. I picture Aidan's little face through the bus window.
I have 100 things I worry about regarding Aidan. His condition is no joke. It will not make for an easy path.

It's the heartbreak of my life.

And then I hear a whisper.

"I have my eye on the sparrow"

What?

What Lord?

"I have my eye on the sparrow. I see. I know."

That insignificant little bird, the one of small value. Two were sold for a penny, and if the buyer would want four, the seller would throw another one in for free and yet not one would fall to the ground without the Father's notice.

His eye is on my little sparrow. He knows. He sees.

"Let not your heart be troubled," His tender word I hear, and resting on His goodness, I lose my doubts and fears; though by the path He leadeth but one step I may see: His eye is on the sparrow, and I know He watches me...