The wind howled around our house last night battering the vinyl siding and rattling the patio furniture. It whipped up in great gusts and then moved on while we held our breaths waiting for the next blast. The trees were tossed about, the tops bending almost horizontal before righting themselves. The power flickered a few times and I knew it was only a matter of time before it went out completely. And then it did...the whole house subsiding into absolute darkness and silence.
The stillness of a house without power is really strange. I sat in bed for a long time, journally by flashlight, and listening to the wind. A glance out the windows showed that the whole neighbourhood below and above us on the mountain was also plunged into a mirky quiet but I could see the lights of downtown twinkling in the distance.
This morning our corner of the world is quiet again and sometime during the night I heard the squeal of the smoke detector as the electricity came on. I'm always relieved to hear the familiar hum of the house coming alive again - the furnace kicking in, the refridgerator starting up, and the comfort of knowing that once again everything is back to normal.
Even though the kids and hubby aren't quite over the flu symptoms yet, this week we're supposed to be into the big push toward report cards. This means gathering all the assignments that the kids have done over the past couple of months and assembling them in a presentable manner for the teacher's visit. Some of those assignments aren't completed yet, others aren't marked, and others have mysteriously gone missing. So the task feels a little overwhelming.
After all the busyness of last week, my mood isn't conducive to beginning this daunting task today. Unfortunately, time feels the enemy and a glance at the calendar confirms that I need to get going. Is it just me or do the days seem shorter than ever since we put the clocks back? In truth, the gloomy dark weather of late makes one feel as though day never quite arrives.
I feel a little downhearted today.
On Wednesday evening my youngest daughter also succumbed to flu symptoms after we thought she wasn't going to react to the H1N1 vaccine. She developed a fever, a terrible headache, and a really chesty cough. Strange how this virus knows how to zero in on the weak areas. When Mady was younger she used to get croup every winter. That's the kind of cough I've been hearing over the past few days.
William is doing better but is still bed-bound. His asthma symptoms have settled down but a nagging dry cough is still hanging around. He looks better to my eye today but is still pale and lacking energy. His tummy hurts from the array of medications we keep pumping into his system, and it's also sore from all the coughing. (That reminds me that I need to heat up the little gel-pack for him to put on those aching muscles. I'll do that when this is posted.)
My husband, who is also an asthmatic, had his flu vaccines at the same time as the two children. He has been struggling with flu symptomsall week too. But, being true to his stubborn self, has been going off to work everyday regardless. I've been very thankful that the weekend has given everyone the opportunity for a few days to rest and try to lick this thing.
So much for my prediction (in the last post) that everyone would be feeling better by the weekend! I'm exhausted running up and down the stairs at everyone's beck and call. And, I pulled a calf muscle as I was jogging up the stairs for the millionth time on Friday. So I'm now hobbling up and down.
I'm also running out of ideas for enticing meals or drinks to make my picky patients. Let's see... we've gone through a couple of loaves of bread making toast, a couple of boxes of eggs, several bottles of Orangina, a bottle of V8 Splash, jugs and jugs of water, a whole box of vanilla Earl Grey tea, and many cans of chicken noodle soup. Nevermind, the popsicles, jell-o, puddings, and yogurts. We also used a bottle of extra-strength Tylenol, another of Advil, a week's worth of prednisone (just one dose left), cough medicine, and a shocking amount of asthma meds. Wow. That's an impressive list.
Did I mention that my two older daughters and I haven't received our flu vaccines yet? After seeing how its affected my family I'm feeling quite reluctant to go and get one. How do I chose when I think it will be a good time to start feeling lousy? I think I'll deal with my daughters first, see how they react, and then maybe I'll get one when everyone else is over their symptoms.
...after a long day in Emergency with my youngest.
We were finally able to get him his H1N1 flu shot on Tuesday night, an essential for a kid who's asthmatic. However, he didn't respond well to the shot and ended up coming down with flu symptoms that resulted in a full-blown asthma attack. He was up all through the night dealing with different symptoms, and when the asthmatic coughing started we increased his doses of ventolin.By about 11:30am I realized that I needed to take him to the ER. His asthma meds just weren't doing their job and his breathing was really labored.
Fortunately, they take breathing issues seriously at the hospital and we were whisked in right away to start on the nebulizer. After a dose of prednisone and more doses of ventolin in the nebulizer he finally started sounding better. Only...because he had a low grade fever, the doctor wanted to have a chest xray done to check for pneumonia. I was worried that we'd end up having to stay in overnight, but thankfully we were given the okay to go at around 4:30. Yeah!
So now...we have follow-up meds to administer for the next five days, and of course are keeping a close watch on his breathing. He won't be able to fly around the house for awhile but hopefully by the weekend he'll be feeling completely over this episode.
I am so glad to be home as I didn't have a chance to eat all day and I was beginning to feel rather faint. Now after a meal and a hot drink I'm about ready to have a quick bath and crawl into bed.
On Sunday night I slammed the car door on my thumb. I stood there in shock for a moment before managing to extricate it and then caught up with my husband and friends who had gone ahead into the restaurant, not realizing my distress. They could tell by my face that something was wrong, and I'm surprised in hindsight that I was so quiet about the whole episode. No screaming or tears. I simply held my breath and waited without success for the wave of pain to pass.
I spent the meal in hazy distraction with my thumb immersed in an icy-cold glass of water. A couple of Advil also helped to mute the throbbing. Still, by the end of dinner I was happy to be heading home until everyone suggested that I get it checked out at Emergency. Unfortunately we were too late to stop by a clinic which in my opinion would have been the lest dramatic of my options. After several hours, avoiding patients who seemed to be smitten with flu and drenching our hands in anti-bacterial wash, the doctor announced that there was nothing broken. However, he did puncture the nail to allow the blood that was pooling underneath to have a way out. Lovely. Truly.
So, for the last couple of nights I've been sleeping with my hand carefully laid on the pillow and trying to avoid bumping it on anything when I turn over. During the day I've discovered a renewed respect for this particular digit as I didn't realize, until it was incapacitated, just how much my thumb is involved in most everything I do. Although the pain has significantly reduced, it still remains bruised and swollen and I'm unable to put pressure on it. Just another reminder to slow down and do less during the strange season of learning to live life differently.
The past two days have been crazy busy. The whirlwind sometimes seems to blow through our lives that way and I'm still not practiced at averting the kinds of situations that add up to feeling overwhelmed and exhausted.
On Tuesday, the kids were exhuding nervous energy all over the place as they talk about and eagerly anticipated the chance to dress up in costumes for Youth. At the same time, our door-repair people finally showed up to fix the door and actually removed it and took it to their shop. So, for about five hours the arctic-like air breezed merrily through the middle floor of our house. We shut doors and worked in areas that could be heated by the gas fireplace. On the way out with the door, the guys bumped the wall and knocked a chunk of paint out. I didn't feel pleased. Meanwhile, both my on-line girls were struggling with challenges that their not-so-helpful English teacher presented them. They were both quite anxious and looking for direction which I felt too impatient to try and figure out. In the evening, my husband arrived home early and we all ate dinner standing at the counter so we could, literally, head in opposite directions for the evening. I was very very glad to climb into bed when I got home at 10:30.
On Wednesday, I spent the majority of my day out and about. The girls had to be at the church for 9:00. Then, one of them had to be picked up at 11:00 while the other two babysat extra long at the church. I didn't get them home until 3:00. Less than an hour later we were back on the road to go to sewing and dance classes. By the time we returned home at 6:15 I had to race to make supper and we didn't sit down to eat until after 7:00. Alas, not much was accomplished in the way of bookwork. These are the kinds of days that you revert to survival mode.
Thankfully, today -so far- has been much calmer. I appreciate that we're all focussed on work. There is much less chatter. Projects seem to be progressing and nobody is upset. I'm hearing positive comments and we're flying through the seatwork. Isn't it strange how one day can be so much different than the next?
This word might conjure up images of large groups of people getting together in a mountain resort for some focussed time on God. For women, this kind of retreat might signal time away for the relentless onslaught of chores and demands that come from raising a family. For some this word can draw to mind a place of silence and solitude that allows them the opportunity to soak in the presence of God.
Retreat for this past couple of months for me has meant permitting myself to pull out of the mainstream and find rest at home. Resting, however, doesn't mean that God is doing nothing in my life right now. The opposite is true. In the stillness of my evenings I am finding more opportunities to connect with God and to answer the questions that He's been stirring up from the shadowy places in my heart. This is often very painful and, without a doubt, an incredibly exhausting process. I am also trying to learn how to rest - to sit and do absolutely nothing (and not feel guilty about it!).
At first when God indicated that this was the direction He wanted me to take this fall, I was heartbroken. I didn't want to step out of the group I was journeying with to spend time on a isolated path. I still have this internal struggle everyday as I keep being reminded by my Heavenly Father that this is a time of healing and restoration, even though it often feels like punishment.
Today while the rest of my family has gone to church, I am seeking sanctuary with God on my own at home. I struggle with knowing what to do with the long, empty, void of time. While I recognize that this time could be a gift, I feel like it's a gift that I'm not sure what to do with. Remember getting those kinds of things at your wedding showers? The ones that you said, "Uh...thanks" to but didn't have a clue what they were for?
I could choose to get busy with chores that are always begging for attention. That's always been my pattern in the past. Or, I could put on some music and escape into beautiful sound. Sometimes I do that because it's good for the soul. Or, I could quickly post a blog-entry and then move into what I've been thinking about since last night - journaling time and the chance to listen to God.
This is how I intend to spend the next couple of hours. Everything else can wait. God is inviting me into his presence and I'm impatient to get there. While I value church, I realized this morning that I don't need to carry guilt about not being there right now. This phase of my journey won't last forever and after all these years I'm finally learning how to take care of myself.
"I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn't want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn't. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something. " ----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I like this quote. It reminds me of the verse posted by my profile from Hebrews 12. We must persevere in this race because our journey really matters in some obscure kingdom-related way. We don't know the impact that our small story has on the people around us. But, we need to believe that our life matters. And the truth is that it does matter. Otherwise we wouldn't be here, at this place, at this time.
Throughout Frodo's journey he hung onto the truth that what he was doing mattered. That carrying the ring through the midst of evil for the purpose of destroying it was a mighty-big and important task. Although sometimes he needed Sam to remind him of this. It's easy to lose perspective when we're weary and hungry and scared.
I guess I need to stop and ask myself the question, "What am I holding on to that gives my life purpose?"
It's easier to do things alone. You have a vision in your head and you make it happen. Nobody puts their impression on it. Its your creation and you can feel proud when it works out.
It's easier to do things alone. You don't have to negotiate and discuss the details. In fact you don't have to talk at all.
It's easier to do things alone. You don't have to check that its been done "properly". You don't have to call someone back to the task or coax them to do a better job.
It's easier to do things alone. You summon up your strength and lift the burden and put it on your shoulders and go in the direction that you want to go.
It's easier to do things alone. At least...until the burden starts to feel heavy. But, you keep taking on more and more stuff even though you begin to feel unsteady beneath the weight. And, because you've never asked for help in the past, nobody even thinks that you might be struggling to stay on your feet. You won't admit that you're feeling overwhelmed so you say "Yes" to one more item being added to your pile. And suddenly...you collapse beneath it. And, you begin to realize...
It's not easier to do things alone. It's exhausting. It's overwhelming. It's lonely. And, when you stumble and fall, there's no one around to pick you up and brush you off and set you on your way again.
Those of us who are Canadian are celebrating Thanksgiving today. Happy Thanksgiving! Our's will be a quiet day as family will not be gathering this year. I feel a little sad but also relieved that the meal can be a simple one. We're roasting some chicken breasts and adding in all the fixings. We'll top the meal off with a pumpkin pie, but alas...some in my family have requested "worms and dirt" - not exactly true Thanksgiving fare.