"Retell" Therapy

I've admittedly been out of the loop these days, fighting sinus infection #4 (counting since late October 2007), throwing a bridal shower for my cousin, starting my venture into the swampy pit of serving on church council, baking goodies for snacks at Sam's school this week, *attempting* to sing at church on Wednesday night, etc... Who out there is old enough to say and really mean, "Calgon, take me away?!?"

To pick up where I left off last week, I sent the kids out of town to have some quality time on the farm with my in-laws, who BTW are some of the sweetest people I've ever known and love dearly. There was some drama, as usual, about this bridal shower, however. My mom, my sister, and I were co-hosting this shower to help my cousin fill her needs for the kitchen. This all started from sitting down and going through cookbooks at the beginning of the year with my mom, and we came across a recipe for Lime Sherbert punch. We got to laughing about how bridal showers used to be so predictable. Every shower that was done up properly always had this frothy, limely concoction along with finger sandwiches and bowls filled with mints, nuts, etc. So we settled on a "vintage" theme for this shower. I thought that the coolest thing for a party favor would be to make waist aprons like my grandmother used to wear out of some old-fashioned looking cloth, and since I sew I figured this would be so cool and easy to do. Long story short, I looked on eBay for some vintage kitchen-themed fabric and found authentic vintage kitchen waist aprons! Not only that, there were two dozen on there, and that was approximately how many people we were expecting! Yes, Lord, this was clearly meant to be! Or was it...??


So I found out, after winning the auction for said aprons, that they would not be shipped until 1 FEB. They were coming from New Jersey, and I didn't know if they would get here in time, so I won some more off of eBay. Oh, did I forget to mention these were coming from CANADA?!?!? Yeah, not only that, but it was supposed to take 2-3 WEEKS to clear customs and be delivered. But God is good, and I thought, 'You know, Lord, it would be really cool if You could just magically make these aprons show up on my doorstep in time for the shower! So if You could just get right on that little detail, that would be grrreeaaaaat..." As if!


All of last week flew by, and not a blessed sign of these #$!!$^@&@ aprons. As I was flying through the house taking care of last minute details about an hour before guests were to begin arriving, DON'T YOU KNOW THOSE SUCKERS SHOWED UP!!! AND ON MY DOORSTEP, TOO!!! Hand-delivered by the mail-lady! Yes, God is still on the throne and sovereign over all, even smelly old aprons! hahahahaha!!!


Saturday afternoon, as the ladies were oohing and aahing over all of my cousins's gifts, I began to notice that my voice sounded like Joe Cocker all of a sudden, and due to the sinus infection I was coming down with, I was also developing laryngitis. Sweet. I got in to beg for drugs early on Monday and was enforcing "voice rest" so that I could sing on Wednesday night. It is a rare thing that I get to simply sing and not be playing an instrument at church, and our Lenten services are really special. Unfortunately, I sounded like a bull moose for most of it! But at least I was able to remotely participate.


Despite how busy the last few weeks have been, I have started noticing how I am needing to focus on my health and stress level. I need to be a good steward of my health, not just because God has blessed me with relatively good health, but also because my kids need to see me modeling this behavior, and they need me to be playing my "A" game. We were doing this contemplative prayer exercise at church on Sunday (What?!? Lutherans doing contemplative prayer?!? DURING CHURCH?!?!?), and the word that came to me is "rest." God is rest. Rest for my body -- I need to slow down and take care of myself. Rest for my soul -- He is the only One Who could possibly know what I am going through in my heart, day in and day out. I may feel alone in a crowd, but He sees, He is El Roi. I have always seen God as a Father in whose arms I can cuddle up when I am too tired to go on. The One who will not judge me for being angry or sullen or anxious and will comfort me in a soul-soothing way. I have been under a lot of stress lately, and it wasn't until I spoke to a friend the other day whom I haven't spoken with in several months that the floodgates just opened up. I don't know if she shares the same spiritual views that I have, but I know that God had something to do with that phone call. She really ministered to me in a way that few people are able to do because of her personal, repetitive experience with loss. At the age of 31, she has lost both of her parents, two of her grandparents, and countless other close relatives. In fact, the running joke between us is that, if I haven't heard from her in a while, it means no one else in her family is dead. Morbid, yes, but that's how we roll...! She just happened to call me on a particularly hard day, but her words were to me like a warm washrag on a scraped knee. She got right to the heart of the matter, wiped away the dirt and the grime of the painful emotions I was going through to expose the wound, and then left me in a position to be more receptive to the healing process, to properly care for the wound so that it heals completely with a minimal scar. Yes, there will always be a scar, but it won't be the first thing you notice about me.


So many things going on in my life and in my heart these days! R.'s movers are packing his household goods even as I type these words. He will say "aloha" to Hawai'i next week and will spend his 2 1/2 week layover spending time with the kids and me until he's off to Alabama. We haven't seen each other since New Year's Day, and it feels like the time has stretched on forever. Bud turns 3 on Saturday, and I look at him, wishing Tom could have seen what a tender-hearted, rambunctious little boy he's becoming. My baby is no longer my baby, and it breaks my heart in such a wonderful way to watch him grow. Oftentimes I watch him and Li'l G during the crazy days and think about how many times my mother-in-law must have changed Tom's diapers, read him stories, wiped his cruddy nose, watched him learn and grow. Would the days have seemed more precious had she known that he would die so young? I look at my kids and wonder, due to how Tom died, if the same situation could be in their futures. I know that sounds absolutely horrid, but his situation was an inherited condition, and I can't ignore that. But I also won't allow it to keep them from living, from being vibrant and experiencing life to its fullest. It's a function of loss and grief to be sure, but it doesn't get me down for the most part.


Now I've just got to brace myself for the toddler birthday party next weekend... a dozen 3 year olds at the Inflatable Funland -- oh joy...