"You Are Doing God's Work...Wonderfully Well."

I had a very mature conversation with my daughter. 

It had been a long day already with a snowy canyon drive, three IV treatments, and eight bee venom injections. By the time I got home, I started feeling terrible. The bee venom depository in my lower back swelled to the size of my hand and raised by about an inch (ouch). 

My sweetheart had picked up my daughter from school. Her sunny outlook brightens our home. I asked about her day, and she chatted with me about all the things she was looking forward to this week. 

She asked if we could have a "sleepout." A "sleepout" is what she calls a family slumber party in the living room with all our mattresses on the floor. She asks for these weekly it seems, and they happen only about once a year. 

I was feeling yucky and like I needed to lie down. I said no to the "sleepout" for now, but that it might be ok another night this week. 

The thought came that I should give my daughter the facts of why I keep having to say no. It suddenly became the right moment to have a factual, woman-to-woman, face-to-face talk with my little girl. I didn't expect it, but it was time. 

We've hinted at this subject a thousand times, but I've never just said it. I mean, I've been sick since before she was born, but she was never developmentally ready to empathize and understand. Now, suddenly, my baby-turned-schoolgirl stood before me, and I knew her sweet little spirit needed the facts. 

I told my daughter I had something important to tell her. "I am a sick mom," I said. (I didn't like saying those words.)

Before the diagnoses came, I came across as just a tired mom. But I told my daughter that I am actually really sick. That's why I go to the doctor and why I have a big IV in my arm. I told her that for awhile I didn't know if I would live or die, but I am getting medicines now to help me be ok. 

Because I'm sick, I can't do a lot of things, like taking the kids places by myself or letting them play outside whenever they want (I can't supervise very often). I said I want to do lots of things, but I can't, and it makes me very sad. 

I said Heavenly Father told me once that it was ok, that my children are meant to be in our family, and I'm meant to be their mom, and that these sweet children would be ok having a sick mom. I confessed that I have cried, feeling sad that I can't do more for my children. 

And then I was done talking. 

I knew how grown-up this conversation might feel to a little girl. I knew how much real life can hurt, and that this is such an impressionable age. 

My daughter heard me out. I didn't think she would say anything. I thought she would feel disappointed and sad. Worst case scenario, I thought maybe she would stomp and say it wasn't fair. 

But she had great understanding and compassion in her eyes. They glistened with impending tears, and the ends of her smiley lips were turned down. 

Then my darling daughter simply said, "You're doing all the things I want you to do." 

Oh, my girl! We melted into a hug. I was instantly comforted. I held my daughter for a long time on my lap as understanding washed over us. I was so grateful for her unexpected, loving, mature response to the facts. She met my confessions with kindness.  

I told my daughter that just because she has a sick mom doesn't mean she needs to be the mom or take care of mom things. I told her to be happy and play and be a kid, but if she saw a way to serve (and I gave small, age-appropriate examples), that she could help. 

I know my children were sent equipped to be in our family, with a sick mom, a busy (but awesome) dad, a tight budget, and other stress at home during this extremely impressionable point in their lives. I know my children are being blessed and protected in many ways. We all are. 

When it starts to feel unfair that my children don't have a vibrant, energetic mom, I remember how great our lives are together and how much we have been blessed. These challenges present other blessings and opportunities to us in ways I didn't expect. 

I am so grateful for the wise, old spirits in my children and that they are ok with our family journey together. We are a good team. I love my family so much. And I'm glad to know for certain that I am good enough.

I am always encouraged by this quote. 

"You are doing God’s work. You are doing it wonderfully well. He is blessing you and He will bless you, even—no, especially—when your days and your nights may be the most challenging. Like the woman who anonymously, meekly, perhaps even with hesitation and some embarrassment, fought her way through the crowd just to touch the hem of the Master’s garment, so Christ will say to the women who worry and wonder and sometimes weep over their responsibility as mothers, 'Daughter, be of good comfort; thy faith hath made thee whole.' And it will make your children whole as well" (Jeffrey R. Holland, "Because She Is a Mother," April 1997). 

Awe, Angels, and Miracles: I Can't Take It In!

11/21/14

Last night was such a downer. I was realizing that Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and I might leave the table hungry again this year. I don't have the energy to cook my own Thanksgiving dinner, bring it in a Pyrex dish to nuke at the event, and have variety enough for the two-day celebration with extended family. I knew I'd have help, but I was overwhelmed at the complication of it all. My belly hurt immensely. I was inexpressibly sad and angry at this food-centered holiday that would soon exacerbate my mental, emotional, and physical pain. 

But God still loved me and set out to prove it. 

(Side note: please be kind to people with food allergies, illness, eating disorders, or other food problems around the holidays. This can be their most painful time of year. Thank you.)

I don't have the words to relay the emotions that I feel today. Many earthly angels visited, bearing needed gifts, one after another, all day long. 

These angels were friends, neighbors, family, people I knew well, people I didn't know--people who intuitively knew that today of all days I would be needing support and love. Heavenly Father knew I needed reminding that He had felt the ache in my chest as I heaved cries and dripped tears last night. He knew my sadness and frustration. 

It started this morning. My husband took me to an appointment, and my friend, the practitioner, refused to let me pay for treatment. I left with a hug and her encouraging words in my heart, assured and so grateful, yet bewildered that I could ever be deserving of such a gift after last night's feelings of anger and ingratitude. 

This was only the beginning. 

My friend and neighbor asked for our crock pot so she could fill it with safe Paleo food, then return it to us hot and delicious tonight. She also asked to watch our children until dinner was ready so that I could rest from my treatments today. My kids played with her kids and had a blast. 

My long time friend from high school texted me to see if I was home. I told her I was, and she said she would be by in just a few minutes with something for me. She arrived carrying a large box of food. Her children were also there, arms full. They marched a Thanksgiving cornucopia into my kitchen. I was speechless and overwhelmed with the spread of food. There were touching notes attached to many of the items, which I quickly gathered and stapled into a thick book to remind me of this gesture and miracle. They left happy, and I collapsed into a barstool taking it in, weeping. 

I cried and cried and cried. I just can't believe the bounty and the love of the caring and the timeliness of this remarkable miracle. There was so much love before me on the counter. 

About an hour later, some senior, full-time, member support missionaries in charge of six thousand people surprised me on my doorstep with a hot meal, a bundt cake, and a bag of apples. Apples are my candy, and the rest of the food was for my family. What a load off my mind to have a meal ready for my family to enjoy. These missionaries sat down and talked with me for a while. They learned about me and understood the exactness that is required with my food preparation. Their grown daughter has a strictly gluten free kitchen due to celiac. Their caring was tangible, their wisdom was timely; I cry just thinking about it. This was their first time visiting, today of all days. They were inspired, I know it. I was so grateful for that outreach and spontaneous exhibition of Christ-like love from people I hardly know.

Our near-empty fridge was full now. I have no sufficient way to articulate what a blessing this is on so many levels. A mental and financial burden was lifted. Our fridge is full of love and sacrifice from people who cared, and I believe, as an extension of God's care through tuned-in people. I can't take it in, the wonder of this goodness to us. Why us? Why today?

This morning I had been so sad that I had no idea what edifying thing I could write today to my missionary sister serving in the Czech Republic. I was feeling sad about the prospect of Thanksgiving, about my terrible belly pains of two weeks, about being angry. But after being bestowed with so many miracles, I knew what to write. It was a testimony that God knows His children and that He is in the details of our lives.

As I wrote her letter, complete with pictures of this bounty, my kind, Paleo-literate friend sent me a text asking if I would like some of a Paleo treat she had just made. I was so happy to accept her offering. It was so yummy too. 

But I just kept thinking...who arranged for all these varied and far-spread earthly angels to look out for me today? How could all of this happen in a matter of hours? Who choreographed this with such personalized precision? How can I ever thank everyone? How can I ever sufficiently thank Heavenly Father for this?

My mom arrived soon after with a green smoothie for me that my dad picked up. It was such a personalized and kind gesture and just another manifestation of how much God is mindful of me on my hardest days. My parents were so busy today, yet they did this. They did this for their little girl. 

To this point in the afternoon, I hadn't rested much because I was busy receiving! It had been beautiful. I had a couple hours when I could rest now, and I did. I had a little nap, content to know that everything was taken care of and that God was watching over me.

While I was still sleeping, my neighbor friend arrived at my doorstep with the crockpot of pot roast and my happy children. I feel such profound amazement and gratitude. The food was perfect, and my taller half was impressed with how much I ate. He didn't even urge me to have just a few more bites because I ate a third of that pot myself.

We ate as much as we could with all our choices. I don't think anything will make it to the freezer with how excited we are about leftovers. And the groceries that were given--we have so much to be thankful for. It just keeps going. 

My low spirits have lasted the week, and other angels have ministered to me with books and flowers, kind words, prayers and love.

I marvel. I don't have words. I just have tears and tears and tears. I have a warm feeling that my needs are known and the hairs of my head are numbered, that I'm more precious than rubies. So is each of us. 

I don't know how today happened. I don't know the details of my pyrex Thanksgiving yet. But I know God hears our prayers. I didn't ask for any of this to happen today, but maybe you did. Prayer works. Prayer is a gift. And when I'm too frustrated or sad or mentally foggy to pray, sometimes in retrospect I realized this has happened: 

"...the Spirit also helpeth our infirmities: for we know not what we should pray for as we ought: but the Spirit itself maketh intercession for us with groanings which cannot be uttered.

"And he that searcheth the hearts knoweth what is the mind of the Spirit, because he maketh intercession for the saints according to the will of God." (Romans 8:26-27)

Thank Thee Father for answering the prayers I couldn't utter, for anticipating my needs, and for sending a fleet of Thine angels with servants' hearts to bless me all my life...especially today. 

The Nitty Gritty: My Symptoms

I like to read about people who are giving admirable responses to their difficult experiences. But what takes this reading to the next level for me is an account of nitty gritty, day-to-day overcoming of struggles. Admittedly, my blog is too general. It's okay, but I'd like to start zooming in and answering detailed questions I receive. 

I noticed "My Backstory" post is the most-read post I have written so far. I'm surprised because it is sooo long, but also not surprised because people have wondered what my deal is and how I got this way. However, that post does not really list the day-to-day symptoms I feel. 

Talking about my symptoms is not therapeutic or enjoyable to me, but for you, for my memory, and for my posterity, I need to talk about it. I'm going to write about my symptoms as best I can for you in my posts. 

I have had this set of symptoms for many years. I hardly remember what normal feels like. I thought all of these symptoms were just "me," especially the parts in my head. The symptoms have morphed and/or compounded over time.

I read a fantastic, informative article that sums up the main points of my scattered, nonspecific-type symptoms. Here is an excerpt. I'll underline my symptoms (blessedly, some are only rare). 

"Chronic Lyme disease is a chameleon. It can run the gamut from fairly mild to extremely severe. The symptoms can affect virtually every part of the body and include severe headaches, severe arthritis, pains all over the body, vision and hearing problems, dizziness, swollen glands, fevers, heart arrhythmias, heart failure, intestinal and stomach disorders, rashes, and seizures. But as bad as the symptoms are, the worst ones affect the brain and nervous system leading to impaired memory, severe insomnia, mood disorders like depression, anxiety, and bipolar disorder, difficulty concentrating, mental fogginess, inability to follow conversations, and numbness, tingling, 'buzzing' and pains in the arms, legs, hands, and feet. I have seen patients who have almost all of the symptoms at the same time! But as bad as all of this is there is something even worse about chronic Lyme disease.

"Chronic Lyme disease is also an impersonator. And more often than not, it is misdiagnosed. That's because the symptoms can mimic other diseases and because the diagnostic tests for chronic Lyme disease are unreliable. Even in proven cases of chronic Lyme disease, the tests are usually negative. So most people don't even know they have it.

"They are often misdiagnosed as having other diseases and disorders such as multiple sclerosis, autoimmune disease, depression, neurosis, rheumatoid arthritis, ALS, colitis, irritable bowel syndrome, epilepsy, fibromyalgia, dementia, chronic fatigue syndrome, chronic mold toxicity, and ADD (attention deficit disorder). So instead of receiving proper treatment, many chronic Lyme disease sufferers receive prescriptions..."

This was interesting to me:

"...Chronic Lyme is not a disease. It's a collection of various chronic multi-system disorders. Properly speaking, chronic Lyme is a syndrome. The dictionary says that a syndrome is 'a group of signs and symptoms that occur together and characterize a particular abnormality or condition.' Syndromes can have many different factors causing them. They are rarely limited to just one factor. And that is why there is no one successful treatment for chronic Lyme. 

"...Each case must be treated individually according to the systems that are affected." (Dr. Frank Shallenberger's Second Opinion newsletter, "The Reason Most Lyme Sufferers Can't Get Any Help--Until Now," November 2014, Vol. XXIV, No. 11.)

I also have an autoimmune disease that attacks connective tissues. It is probably secondary to Lyme and will probably completely dissipate with the treatment of the Lyme. The only awful symptoms I get from it at this time are canker sores and frozen lower legs and feet. Sometimes I think I'll get frostbite. 

Also, my genetic mutations make me extra special with creating some limited nutrient absorption (I'm malnourished a bit), impaired neurotransmitter production (sorry brain), zero detoxing ability (high metals and toxins in my body), and inability to break down adrenaline (THAT'S a bundle of fun at two in the morning). 

Back to Lyme, I'd have to think, think, think to give you a specific listing of what I have felt exactly. 

My MAIN complaints over the years have usually involved my guts misbehaving--reflux, pain, spasms, altered bowel patterns, nausea, pain that made me wonder if I was dying, burning that wakes me from sleep, weight loss, appendicitis, a paralyzed/inflamed gallbladder, gallbladder attacks, cramps, pain after eating (like canker sores in my small intestine), pain when the stomach is empty, short-lived gastroparesis, low calorie intake, fasting for gut rest, food intolerance, food aversion, sometimes all at once, sometimes a few at a time...ugh, I feel sick just writing about it. 

There are also the MAIN, SILENT complaints of depression, anxiety, agoraphobia, hopelessness, feeling like I'm dying...you know, the cheerful stuff that never wants to come out when an insincere, regular old doctor with his eyes on the chart, head in the last exam room, and stomach in the break room halfheartedly asks, "What's going on today?"

Yeah, no. I'm not talking to you about this. 

Anyway. This is an introduction to how I feel, on a very general level. The symptoms I feel with treatment are a whole other ball of fun that I'll sum up in a list:

Extreme fatigue

Extreme muscle weakness

Zero stamina

Gait disturbances

Dizziness

Low appetite

Gut pain

Nausea

Bad taste in my mouth

Very poor memory

Extreme indecisiveness and inability to focus

Sometimes irritability

Anxiety

Swelling and pain around bee venom sites (yay hot pad)

And I need a soft place to recline because I'm skinny/bony and have loosey-goosey muscle tone.

You know what this is? These are part of herx reactions: when the Lyme spirochetes come out swinging and hopefully die after being attacked by good stuff. This is Lyme to the max for me. This is what I would be down the road if I didn't get treated. 

That's what I mean when I say that with Lyme, you have to get worse before you get better. I see this herxing stuff as a good sign overall. It's induced, and probably temporary as it eases up. 

But I'm not going to think about the future. Expectations don't serve me well. I just know that today is just right, my present is perfect, and the way I feel is exactly as it should be. 

Think Outside the Box for Church Callings

When my diagnosis was still a mystery and I was having major panic and feeling sick at church all the time, it was really hard to do my calling of leading the music in Relief Society (even though I love it!). I thought about quitting, but I stuck it out and found a sub if I couldn't "church" (<--verb) one day. Agoraphobia, guts, nausea, feeling faint, whatever.

Then treatment started, and I was totally dizzy and couldn't imagine staying upright while waving my arm, so I got a sub one week for that.

Then a few weeks passed while General and Regional Conferences happened. I got thinking. I got creative. This is my calling, and by gum, there had to be a way (see 1 Nephi 3:7).

Normally I stood in a space with lots of room and a music stand to hold the hymnbook. Then it occurred to me...

There's a sturdy table at the front of the room. I could ditch the stand, hold the hymnbook with all my buffness (I kid), and lean against the table to keep me knowing which way was up. Brilliant!

I tried it out the next time I led the music. It totally worked. Hot dog!! I win!

I knew that, worst case scenario, I could sit right on the table. Who would care? No one (as long as I sat like a lady, amiright?). I have almost sat the last two weeks, but a little shake of the knees keeps me from feeling like I'm going to faint. So that's cool. It works!

I guess I realized that there are creative ways to do a calling. I have permission and power to think outside the box and be unconventional. And so do you.

I "Look Good" on Sundays!

Sundays are fantastic! Sure we wake up early for church and come home exhausted. But that leaves room for naps and visiting family later in the day, ba-BAM.

My treatment schedule makes it so Sundays are my very best days. My last treatment was three days before, so I'm maybe starting to function on Sundays and behave like a live human, which is cool. People even say I "look good," meaning healthy. (I'd like to give credit to real clothes, mascara, and the eyebrow pencil that make me not look like a ghost.:)

Here's what makes Sundays special for me ( besides the obvious and beautiful Sabbath observance).

I think the clearest on Sundays.
I get to wear my nicest clothes.
I put on a little makeup and dry my hair (a workout, but worth it for the day).
I.e. I LOOK ALIVE! I said that...er, others did.
My soul is fed with spiritual messages.
I get out and talking to others.
I serve in my calling.
I generally eat well.
I can take a nap.
I "jam" at home on my guitar while my taller half plays primary songs on the piano.

Sundays are blessed. I like 'em.

Positive Spin on Sick Days

Today I have been very sick. I kept to my bed in the yoga pants and baseball tee I wore last night while thoughtfully-prepared meals were brought to me. My children were lovingly tended by Grandma and Dad in turns.

All day, I weighed every physical effort carefully to see if I actually had to do it, like getting a drink or changing positions. It's just one of THOSE days. It's been awhile since I have been this physically wiped out.

I stop the self-destructive "why?" game in its tracks because I don't know the answers. I could make guesses about the maxed IV antibiotic dose, or the bee venom, or the diseases and genetic mutations in my body, or my dropping weight, or the food I did or didn't eat, or sleep issues, or great unknowns, or any number of things. But I REALLY don't know. And I kind of don't care.

There's a certain comfort about laying low and just not knowing. There's a peace about accepting myself as I am now. I feel negative feelings when I speculate, blame, try to force change, or pretend I feel well, so I generally choose not to go there.

Sick days can be blessed days. They are slow days and out of control days. They may pass, and the rigors of healthy days may come again. So I enjoy the forced slowness.

I honor my body by being slow and restful and allowing it to be sick.

Sickness is when the microscopic components of our bodies fight to the death for our wellness. They sacrifice everything to make us live.

I am grateful for the cells that fight for me and make me rest while they fight. I'm grateful for medicine and treatments that help them out.

I am grateful for my wonderful body. I can't direct the artillery consciously, cell by cell; but I trust those ranks of living cells that grow, fight, and die for me. They have intelligence to the level they need and are BRILLIANT at their jobs.

I know God is their General, and His Priesthood (given by blessings to me) is their Marching Orders.

Being sick is just another way God shows His love for me. I'm grateful for sick-in-bed days to remind me of this and the wonders of the human body that He created for me. He cares. He has control from the microscopic level to the boundless cosmos, but He cares about my little body. How Great is our Heavenly Father!!!

Bee Stings for the Win!

Once upon a time, I was a little girl who had been stung by bees five separate times.

Each subsequent reaction was worse. The last of those stings was on the front of my ankle, and for a week my foot and ankle were nearly doubled in size.

In the retrospect of later years, I realized that I was allergic to bees. It was confirmed through testing that I was definitely allergic. With worsening reactions, I was advised to carry an epipen during warm weather for possible anaphylaxis.

Do you know how much those things cost? A lot! And how much stress I had around bees? A lot!

Years later still (and just last month), my current doctor recommended bee venom therapy to kick start the immune system and augment the functions of my other current therapies (I think?). I explained my history with bees and that I was allergic.

"Have you ever had throat swelling?" she inquired.

"Well, no."

"If you try this and do have an anaphylactic reaction, we have epinephrine ready. But know that no one I've ever given this to has had anaphylaxis. Pain, swelling, and itching, yes, but no throat swelling."

Aw, what the heck, I thought. "Go ahead." The worst I could do is die, which doesn't really intimidate me anymore, ha!

She injected bee venom under the skin of my lower back. It stung and swelled just like I remember with real bees. But I sat through some IV therapy in the office after that, and guess what! I didn't die!

NEAT.

I had three more injections of bee venom today. (We're working up to ten per session.)

And I didn't die--again!

You guys, this peace of mind is sa-WEET!! I love it! No more epipens. No more surges of alarm when a bee hovers around me (well, actually, give me time to work on that). Bees and I can be friends! We could maybe get a beehive, aaaaaw!

After that first injection, my back was swollen, but I felt at ease. I sat next to my alyssums, marigolds, and herbs as dozens of bees bopped around the countless blossoms. For the first time ever, I was happy those bees were there. Next year, I'll plant even more flowers for those bees to enjoy because I no longer need to avoid them. My lifelong fear of bees is gone!

Beauty in Opposition

I admit that sometimes finding gratitude is an intellectual and not a heartfelt effort.

I'm having such emotional pain about something that even the glad game feels futile. Even when I drum up that list of things to be glad about, I feel little sincerity. I think it's part of mourning sometimes to feel like what you have isn't right or enough.

The good part about days like today is that I have hope for tomorrow, or next year, or the next life. I know the glad game will work again after I've had my cry. I've had enough moments of despair to know that the sun does rise again on a fresh new opportunity to be okay. It warms my back and reminds me that, really, things are very wonderful.

I forgive myself for having a sad day, for bawling through this post, for forgetting the depth and magnitude of my blessings while I weep. Things will get better.

"Beloved, think it not strange concerning the fiery trial which is to try you, as though some strange thing happened unto you:

"But rejoice, inasmuch as ye are partakers of Christ’s sufferings; that, when his glory shall be revealed, ye may be glad also with exceeding joy." (1 Peter 4:12-13)

I am grateful for trials. Many of my prayers have been answered through trials--for patience, faith, strength, capacity, ability, empathy, kindness.

I want to remember the pain of this life. It is beautiful because it is the bitter contrast for all the good ahead. Trials and pain are kindnesses to us so we can understand exultant joy when it comes. I hope I don't look back on my life and find that I grumbled all the while and missed the gifts and beauty that God gave me in the form of difficulty and hard times.

I rejoice that moments of searing pain provide the contrast for the endless bliss that is to come.

"The Spirit itself beareth witness with our spirit, that we are the children of God:

"And if children, then heirs; heirs of God, and joint-heirs with Christ; if so be that we suffer with him, that we may be also glorified together.

"For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." (Romans 8:16-18)

"While it may not come at the time we desire, the faithful will know that every tear today will eventually be returned a hundredfold with tears of rejoicing and gratitude." (Joseph B. Wirthlin, "Come What May and Love It," October 2008).

Everything God gives us is a good thing. I know the heartache I feel is not unique to just me and that we all struggle, but I'm willing to write about it. I hope you know your tears will be returned with rejoicing and gratitude, because they surely will. 

The Gifts of Being a Sick Mom

Before I knew I had Lyme disease, I blamed feeling unwell on so many things relating to the strains of new motherhood and working full time. These were the scapegoats for feeling so sick and not being as active as I wanted to be in my little family and not getting things done around the house.

I gave any energy I had to work, and my family got the leftovers (the totally chewed up, spit out, chronically ill version of me: ew). This was a hideous feeling for me, knowing that all I ever wanted to be was a full-time, stay-at-home mother. But I did what had to be done for the survival of my family, willing to be their figurative martyr...until I realized my actual life was on the line!

The hardest part about realizing I had an actual illness and admitting I am a sick mom was the guilt about not being a better mom and wife. I read articles about how to entertain the kids when you have a sick DAY, like abolishing screen time limits, ordering food in, and hiring people to do stuff for you. Maybe that works for some moms...but what if you have a sick or impaired LIFE?

I started searching for positives of being a sick, impaired mom, truly not knowing yet if this was to be a temporary or permanent state for me in this life. (Actually, I still don't know, but I have the Savior's peace and am not worried!)

Someone told me that Heavenly Father knew what I would pass through, and He EQUIPPED my children to be able to handle being in this family. This is true: they have thrived all the way. I have such comfort knowing this, knowing I'm doing my best, and it is good enough for my children right now. They have all the coping mechanisms and abilities to handle being in our family during its ups and downs. And likewise, I actually have all the abilities I need to mother this family from where I am, right now.

I feel like my children have become more self reliant. They have learned to get their own snacks and make (sloppy, but yummy) sandwiches. They have inherently learned what foods are good and bad for our bodies from the way we eat. They are becoming more obedient about coming inside from playing the first time we call, knowing there are reasons to be inside, even it's just so I can lie down. They realize the cleanliness of their living space relies solely on them because I don't pick up after them much, and they choose whether to live in order or filth. They have earned my trust when I tell them not to answer the door while nap on the couch or shower. They carry their own things in from the car a little better, enjoy outings a little more, and have respect for my abilities when they ask, "Mom, can we play outside for ten minutes?" I can sometimes watch them outside for that length of time. When I say I cannot let them out because I can barely lift my head, they rarely pout anymore and instead play in the unfinished basement with glee. (Get them around their softer Grandparents though, and they'll make a bigger fuss!:)

These are big lessons and big compromises for young children, but I think I've accidentally or intentionally given them self discipline and freedom by being instructive and present, but not always physically active to intervene (as uncomfortable as that can be for me).

As for me, I have been able to enjoy blessings of being a sick mom too. I am being forced to rest...oh, what a gift. (Though, I have a hard time being completely still and usually have a small project in my hands.)

There are other blessings. I like watching my children develop into thinkers and doers. My children get way more time on my lap reading books than they ever could if I was busy getting things done. I have been able to reorganize my priorities. I have let go of some of my pride regarding house cleanliness, my physical appearance, and thinking can do everything. It's liberating and a beautiful gift. It's perfect for right now.

There really are blessings in everything God gives us. I am grateful Heavenly Father could turn my needless guilt into His comforting assurance. I know now that all is well and exactly as it should be.

It takes adjusting your perspective, but His grace turns every stumbling block into a stepping stone.

I'll Always Be Here

There are currently three or four posts on the docket for posting, but they need revision and honing before being published.

IV treatments make my Lyme brain flare up and cause forgetfulness, fogginess, indecisiveness, difficulty focusing, etc., more than usual. It takes two to three days to feel more normal in my brain after a treatment. Thus I have one to two clear-brain days per week, and that is usually when I can focus enough to write. I love writing, butI like it even better when it makes sense. :)

Yesterday was a good brain day, but I used it to write fifteen pages of notes for a class I am teaching later this week.

I just wanted you to know that I am not a neglectful blogger. I think of this blog every day. This blog is a history and will not drop off the earth.

I had a treatment today, but if I get a good moment of clarity, I'll revise and publish one of those posts for you! :) They require more TLC before being viewed.

As an update though, things are going as expected. I feel ew, but it's just a sign that I'm on the road to feeling better. I am enjoying it and feel so grateful to be doing something to help me get better.

My PICC line has been so helpful, and I really appreciate having easy venous access. Later this week I get to hang my own IV from home as the office is closed. The only issue I've had is that the area around the PICC line has been itching since my last dressing change. I don't think my skin likes this kind of dressing. I'm going in today for a different dressing, and I bet I'll be right as rain after that.

That's the scoop for today. I have received so many kind comments and encouraging words from you. Thank you so much. It's an honor to be open with you and maybe exhibit some vulnerability. Isn't that what connects us together as humans, to be (appropriately) open and vulnerable with each other? Thank you for being that way with me too.