Ladies By Design

The Nourished Life

In my life, there always seems to be someone who needs something. And with all the medical issues I deal with, sometimes I feel as if I carry everything alone. Self-care is necessary for survival, as is making a habit of refueling body and soul. Sometimes this means time out with friends to relax and unwind, and sometimes it requires making arrangements to have times of quiet. Rest is mandatory. Nourishment, essential. We take better care of those we love when we take care of ourselves, too.

 

I have to cultivate the habit of stepping away to see that my needs are met. It may seem daunting, but it's necessary. Sometimes I feel isolated, or believe there are no resources. But the truth is there is a way to self care- if I am willing to commit to it, to work towards it. Wellness takes work. It takes planning ahead- and sometimes, a willingness to step into the unknown. To put my needs out there and ask for help. It's risky, and sometimes I don’t want to ask. But the benefits are worth the risk. 

 

Sometimes it's an issue of “want to”. What keeps me from drawing aside, what do I gain from over-working? Does it help me forget? Does it make me feel better about everything that seems wrong in my life?

 

Everything I commit to fills a need in me. The need to be a good wife and mother. The need to feel valued, like my work matters. Do I deny my needs because I have to be a martyr to feel acceptable? Do I believe that I do not have the right to take care of me, too?

 

It’s time to give permission to have needs. To take care of me- in a healthy way. Chocolate cake may taste good for a moment, but it won’t heal the gash in my soul, nor will it placate the troubles in my heart.

 

Exercise, movement, is healing. I walk and pour out, and sometimes I want to run. I don’t do it well (or for very long), but I need the physical reminder of what I am carrying emotionally. I run, a block, maybe two, and at the bottom of the hill my chest heaves and I sputter and breathe jagged breaths and it feels like my life. I have to train for the long haul and I have to rest before I am spent. 

 

Jesus did said to serve others, just as He did. And He served with His whole heart- but he also set the example of drawing apart regularly and seeking rest. If we want be like Jesus, we have to balance pouring out and finding rest.

 

Isaiah 55:2 says:

Why spend money on what is not bread, and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, and you will delight in the richest of fare.

The Message puts it this way: “Pay attention, come close now, listen carefully to my life-giving, life-nourishing words. I’m making a lasting covenant with you, the same that I made with David: sure, solid, enduring love.”

 

We have to make time to let God’s love wash over us, healing, restoring, giving rest in spirit, soul, and body. Don’t take this for granted. We need fuel not filler. We need to pursue that which nourishes, that which truly fills. We can chase after what leaves us empty, running on fumes- or we can plan time to rest and recover. Self control is not only self denial.  Self control is seeking that which gives lasting nourishment- in spirit, soul and body. It’s making time to find daily abundance in the heart of God.

 

 

Loving By Default

When I started writing for Ladies By Design, little men didn't register on my radar. I was oblivious to children. Now, as a new mommy, I see the world through my son's eyes—sometimes because I try, but mostly by default.

When we are at the park, I can't help but notice how oblivious adults consumed with busy thoughts rush past us—never seeing his small hand waving hello. Oblivious adults like myself don't often look down but this morning was different. I didn't just look down—I got down on my knees.

Little man seemed to wake up in a foul mood today. Usually, he's such the chum, the good natured happy boy. Today was different. His schedule was different. Life has been different lately. I'm sure he's been absorbing the tension we felt since my husband was laid-off. Toddler or not, he knows.

I wasn't thinking about his feelings this morning. As I pulled into my parent's driveway, I'd determined to do a drop and dash. I was looking up and ahead, past my child, and into my busy thoughts. Oblivious, I asked for a kiss and little man responded with a slap.

Of course, I immediately scolded him, even punished him, but I didn't dash as planned. Instead I lingered by default. I waited by default. I stalled by default. A few unhurried minutes passed as I studied the back of his little hoodie. Then, he turned and lunged at me with a bear hug. By default, I was waiting for his heart to soften. Not just for my sake, but for his.

In the moment, it was tempting to walk away. I knew he would be in good hands. I had a full day of work waiting for me but God had a work to do in me first. Often, I think of God as a hurried parent, impatient with my petulance and mistakes—"I'll be back when you are ready to behave." That's not who He is though. I am not a theologian but I think He waits on us. He waits for our hardened heart to soften. He waits for our unreasonable emotions and contemptuous attitudes to be still. He waits for us.

Had I simply rushed off—I may have gained a hurried minute but I would have lost a defining moment. May we all spend more time on our knees, being still, and loving our children as Ladies By Design.

Held

It has been a difficult season. In the past weeks and months, I've felt the need to draw aside and refill, often. The harshness of holding onto life wears on me. I feel the urge to seek out that soothing Voice which hammers out what tears at my soul. I love that he dances over me, yet most often, I need to be held, to seek out quiet moments, to allow the silence to be filled with reassurance and rest. 

Today I began reading in Zephaniah chapter three. Zephaniah often spoke of catastrophe and destruction, of judgement for a rebellious people. Yet, when I read carefully, I find the book is not as depressing as it might, at first, appear.  Chapter three speaks of punishment for oppressors, and their removal from places of power. Nestled within these pages is a declaration of the Lord's great love for his daughters.  

Zephaniah 3:17 declares, 

"The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save.

He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love,

He will rejoice over you with singing. 

I love this image of the all powerful Lord God wrapping me in his arms and quieting me with his love. Anyone who's perused my personal blog knows that since November, my family has been walking through the metaphorical fire, medically. As a new year dawned, my oldest son, who has type one diabetes, had two separate life threatening experiences within a few weeks of each other, and only a few weeks ago my husband ended up in the ICU after routine surgery due to a bad reaction to morphine.It is not, by any stretch of the imagination, normal to see a loved one laying on a hospital bed turning gray, as medical personnel surround, trying to sustain life. Nor is it normal for people in scrubs to be running down halls calling out that a precious life is in danger. It tears at my heart just to speak it. No matter how many times this happens it never becomes normal. But what I am grasping despite all of this is that regardless of my circumstances, God has already seen to my needs.

When there is stress, or fear, or grief- and I've know each repeatedly this year- God provides in a myriad of ways. One of which is through the biological design of our bodies. Most notably, our tear ducts, designed as a conduit of release. Surviving trauma of any sort requires the release that comes through the cleansing, salty, stress releasing gift of our tears. When we don't cry, our bodies suffer. In his great love for us, God has provided a way for us to pour out our burdens emotionally and physically. We don't have to hold it in. He designed us to have a way of natural release. No detoxifying spa methods needed. He's already given us what we need, through gifts he created in us from the beginning.

When my son lay in the hospital as "diabetic  emergency" was being shouted through the halls, I leaned over him, fighting back the tears, assuring him that "Mommy is here", taking that comforting stance because he was awake and afraid. When my husband was unable to stay awake, and having difficulty breathing, I was forced out of the tiny hospital room so that medical equipment could be moved in. I was, for the moment, no longer in the role of caregiver. I took a break to relieve myself, and found that instead what came was the relief of tears. 

I sobbed. I wept, I cried out. Release overtook me, and for a few minutes, I simply surrendered to the tears. And then, as suddenly as the flood surged, it ceased. I stood, speaking out loud, words unplanned springing forth, "God, here I am- use me." And the healer of my soul stepped in, equipping me. I returned to the room, and with the removal of the x ray machine, I was able to enter in again. This time, surrounded by the strength of the Lord, filled with his wisdom, and ready to do battle. For the first time in my natural life, I was able to pray over my loved one fighting for life, rather than be consumed by fear and grief. I was able to stay emotionally present in the moment, rather than simply survive.

I placed my hands on my husband and prayed as I'd never prayed before in such a moment- calling down God's healing hands, asking for restoration of breath and life. I spoke the words given to me in the moment- that God is not finished yet, that my husband's time here on this earth is not yet complete. I prayed until the words no longer came, and then, I rested, in quiet peace, knowing I'd prayed in partnership with the Spirit, not grasping my own way. The life struggle continued, and I was held.  Like the daughters of zion, I knew what it was to be quieted by his love. And I am convinced that the conduit which connected me to his strength was my tears.  As the tears removed the toxins in my body (built up through stress), both my body and my spirit found release. I was bouyed up emotionally as I cried out and connected to the One who holds me through the madness. 

In times of stress, fear, and even loss, we have a choice. As daughters of the King we have the privelege to seek out his comfort, his help. When we are hurting we can hold him at a distance and try to survive. Or we can seek the sweet release that comes from a good cry on his shoulders. When I reach out to him, he gathers me in, holding me close. As I cry out, he listens, he sooths, and I find that he is my strength. He is indeed Mighty to Save.  

~Bekah

A Time for Everything

I wake to the morning light, feeling as if I am under a weighted cloud. I’ve walked this road long enough to know that what haunts me is not clinical depression. No, there are other diagnoses that name the heaviness in my heart, and I realize that this is very much a place of grieving. My son is no longer growing, and I am afraid. Diabetes is a complicating factor; the treatment is as difficult as the condition. The load I bear increases, and PTSD often keeps my husband huddled in a place I cannot reach. I am lonely, weary of this life of consistent medical deluge. I want to stay in bed, snuggled under soft sheets, blanketed by fear and grief. I push through. Past anger to the sadness. Sometimes life is very, very hard. This is where I am, a place where medical terms crash into real life. I want to learn to live thanksgiving in the midst of the storm.

New life is manifested through conscious commitments to create a new pattern. My journey will involve healthy grieving paired with the giving of thanks. I tug against the process. I do not like how I feel while doing the work. I dread fleshing out what our culture often sees as weakness. Yet, there's another tugging at my heart and I know the truth. I will not heal if I do not grieve.

I remember a story I've known since childhood, from the book of John. Jesus escapes arrest only to have word come, "The one you love so very much is sick." I know this story well. "...oddly he stays where he is for two more days." (MSG) The God-man chooses to stay, so belief within those who follow him can grow. Four days past death Jesus arrives in Bethany. He knows his mission; to raise the dead. Yet he sees the flow of grief, and steps in. Anger and sadness wash over him, marks of the cycle. The Son of Man chose to grieve. Why was there a need to weep when He knew that God had given him authority to raise the dead? To set the standard for healthy grieving.

Our culture often sees strength as resisting tears, yet Jesus' power was shown through them. He continued to allow the cycle of grief as he approached the tomb, instructing, "Roll away the stone." Sisters protested the stench, but Jesus stood firm. "Didn't I tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?" The stone was removed, and standing before the tomb, Jesus gave thanks. "Father I'm grateful that you have listened to me. I know you always do listen." Even in death and loss Jesus found gratitude. An then, in the wake of decay, Jesus called forth new life. On a word and a prayer and a grateful heart, a miracle was borne. 

 Ecclesiastes 3:1 tells us, "For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven." New life comes as I learn to balance grief with gratitude. There is a time to stand at the tomb and work through the loss, and there is a time to be grateful for what been given. Healing and gratitude are entwined with the rememberance that we are never alone. There is One who listens, and One who knows, for He chose to walk through grief to new life-- and more than once. Remember, the tomb is empty!!

~Bekah

 

 

A Cord of Three Strands

The first year is always the most difficult. With any diagnosis, learning a new lifestyle is challenging. There is no normal. Perhaps there never was. I listen to the rain falling outside my window and I wonder at the instruments chosen to teach me a new song. Diabetes, PTSD, Celiac Disease, and Sensory Processing Disorder. A cord of three strands is not easily broken, but a cord of four may break me. It has, in a thousand heart rending, soul restoring ways. The first two were traumatic, the third educational. The last taught me to reframe life as I know it.

That moment, when the word came, all I felt was relief. Surging, trembling relief. This is the why. So many unanswered wonderings, suddenly step into line. My life frame shifts off sinking sand, and I find my Rock ever there. Always. No matter what. The journey through grief is cyclical. It must be for life ever changes the shape of the journey ahead. The path to the altar is well worn.The breath of release pours out. I held my breath for so long, and find I must practice finding breath again. I inhale deeply, in, and slowly out.

And now begins a season of stretching and learning. Expanding my knowledge base, learning how to care better for the ones I love. To fit together each strand in a way that makes sense for me. Again, and again. Often I miss the mark, and look back, with clearer focus than I had in the moment. Some days I cope, others I soar. I've learned to take care of my needs, too, so I can take better care of those I love. I used to be the one that many came to for support. Now I need to draw back and receive. And the Lover of my soul gives abundance, pouring cleansing rain through me. Each day offers a new beginning, a chance to be infused with life and choose well. I choose. I choose to be Wife and Mommy to a passel of specially wrapped gifts. And to refine my own identity along the way. I am more than what I do.

The rain has stopped, the world washed with healing. I too can be whole, if I choose to partake. Will I resist the cleansing? Or step forward, again and again- though unknowns lay before me. If I stay I will stagnate. I can see the step ahead, and I choose to trust in the One who restores, who holds me through the darkness and lights the way. A candle in the darkness, ready to be lit- to move the blaze with each step, illumininate - if I choose to grow. To respond to the invitation and step out, giving thanks for the glow, and the hope held beyond.

~Bekah

Unreasonably Unhinged

This time last night I was unhinged. It's one thing to be undone. It's another to be unhinged and I was unreasonably unhinged. Last Thursday, I left the office feeling fully weighed down with all the work left to do. Before I exited the parking lot I had determined to spend time over the weekend working above and beyond the usual domestic chores. You know, those loads and mounds and heaping piles of smelly laundry.

Despite my plans, I found myself wooed by my little man, coffee with girlfriends, dinner with family, and couch time with my hubby. I ceased the working and the striving and the worrying. I just lived. Sunday came quickly though and it wasn't long before I was consumed with preparing for the week ahead. The working and the striving and the worrying crept up on me. I didn't realize I was feeling fully weighed down until I thrust our crying little man into my hubby's arms.

"Take him" I said. I needed to clean off the kitchen table piled high with paperwork. I had to wash the dishes. I planned on folding those loads and mounds and heaping piles of not-so-smelly laundry. "Just take him" I said.

In that moment of living unreasonably unhinged I found myself thinking about thanksgiving. What if I spent some time meditating on thankfulness? What would my night be like? However, in a split second sanity disappeared and I was once again unreasonably unhinged.

Arms empty, I began my planning. I would absolutely positively show up to blog on Monday. I would eliminate all obstacles. I would be consistent no matter what. SInce I didn't work over the weekend I would wake up super early and get a head start. Oh, I had plans and my hubby had a headache.

I didn't wake up super early but I did finally come to my senses this morning. On my drive to the office I found myself thinking about the power of God. The Bible says He is the Alpha and Omega—the beginning and the end. In my words—He is past, present, and future. In thinking about the power of God, I couldn't help but realize how weak I am and how fearful I can be. Interestingly, the Sunday message was all about recognizing fear in our lives.

With my hand on the steering wheel, navigating through typical Monday morning traffic, I found myself meditating on milk breath. I love litle man's milk breath. Suddenly, it occurred to me that God simply wants us to be present. The past, present, and future belong to Him. We can't change the past and we can't control the future. All He asks us to do is be present.

I was anything but present when I said "Take him." I wasn't present to enjoy his milk breath. I wasn't present to kiss his little fingers and toes. I wasn't present to soothe and sway and shush—shush—shush our little man. Not long after entering the parking lot I was surrounded by my co-workers in our daily staff devotions. Interestingly, this week's theme is the "Power of God." There are no accidents and many interesting occurrences along the Way of Love.

Tonight, I am pleased to say that I've happily typed the evening away. I've also happily walked away to tend to little man more than a few times. I soothed and swayed and shush—shush—shushed. In the end I managed to both write and mother all in one night. It's amazing how much more time I am able to enjoy when I focus on being present. It's impossible to be present and not be be thankful. They go hand in hand. So, dear friends, I challenge you to be present. Don't worry over the past or the future. Be present and you will find yourself thankful and then you will truly be living as Ladies By Design!

The Altar

It is unusual for the school nurse to be out on Tuesday, but since we had one day's notice about the change in routine, the school counselor and I met yesterday to plan Tyler's back up care, and I was hopeful that all would proceed smoothly.  We had a plan in place, and it was under control. Or so I thought.

This morning Mrs. Warneke (the counselor) pulled me into her office to let me know that Tyler's classroom teacher, who has taken the diabetes training, and most importantly, knows how to give the emergency shot if the nurse is out, is at home with a sick child. And the paraprofessional who assists in Tyler's classroom and can oversee his blood glucose checks and snacks happens to be home sick, as well. So despite the hierarchy of "back up personnel" for the days the nurse is not on site, it seems that everyone who knows how to take care of Tyler care at school is not in the building today. When confronted with such a situation, I would usually decide to drop everything and spend the day back and forth to the elementary school managing Tyler's care myself. It would be hectic, but I would make sure he was taken care of, myself. But the last few days of the month are the more intense days for my work schedule. Even though I do not want to, I really need to step back and allow the school to cover Tyler's general care today. They can manage Tyler's care at school, and this will free me to take care of all my responsibilities. I will be able to run up there if there is an emergency, but I need to let go of Tyler's routine care and place it in the capable hands of the school counselor.

Mrs. Warneke is a wonderful support. She already had a plan for today's care, enlisting the help of another paraprofessional who assisted with Tyler's Blood Glucose checks on a recent field trip. They are going to work together to cover the normal BG checks and daily routine. She went over the changes with Tyler, and encouraged him to use his voice and "be persistent" if he needs help and the sub forgets "the signal" we've worked out with his teachers.  I am confident in the staff's ability to handle everything, but yet, I am fighting worry. "I'm just a phone call away," I reassured the ladies (and myself). There has been an upset in the way that things usually work, and also in our first contingency plan, and I am finding that fear can easily give way to panic.

Questions pour into my mind like pounding rain. What if there is an emergency? Will the sub know what to do? Will she be able to track down the right people to help? Worse case scenario: What if counselor is out of her office and Tyler has a seizure?  Who will call 911?  

The principal happens to be covering the office today because one of the secretaries is also out. (And my youngest has a sub, too.) A lot of the normal staff seems to be gone today. There are a lot of variables, a lot of unknowns, and what I am finding is that when something in my life seems out of my control, I tend to attempt to exert MORE control over other areas in my life. I want to frantically clean the house so that something in my life appears to be in order.  In such cases, I can find often myself trying to control my husband or children, or the people around me. Or even the cat (good luck with that one!) I recognize the signs, and how I am responding to my worry, and though I feel helpless and out of control, I know that at some point I have to take it all to the altar.

Several years ago, as I was coming to terms with my son having a life altering condition, the Lord drew me to the story of Abraham. The Lord asked him to take his son to the altar; his only son left, for his other son was lost to him, driven away into the desert. Abraham obeyed. It must have been a difficult journey, physically and emotionally, and I often wonder what battles Abraham was fighting in his own mind. Did he have a sense of urgency in his preparations, or did he dread the journey? Did he command his servants with more determination than usual? Did directing his servants in their daily tasks give him a sense of control over something?  Anything?

"On the third day, Abraham looked up and saw the place in the distance."  The Place where his life would be forever altered, in one way or another. God had given him a promise, a promise for his family to be established, a heritage to be passed down. It was a promise that he later learned would come through this son, and no other. Isaac was "The son of the promise." Yet, in order for Abraham's life to be altered, he had to meet God at the actual altar. The altar was a vital  part of the journey to the promise. Painful, but imperative.

As Abraham took the wood for the sacrifice and placed it on his son, did his heart break? Did he wish he could take the burden on himself? Did he wish he did not have to make this grueling journey? Did he wish he could change his reality... to control the outcome? To think that he blindly obeyed, without question, is to minimize Abraham's faithfulness, or brush over Abraham's inherent human-ness.

As humans, we battle for control, yet rarely actually have it. When our reality does not look like we think it should, we often try to control others, yet desperately need to control ourselves instead. Especially when it comes to the people we hold most dear. Yet, control is only an illusion. Perhaps Abraham recognized this. In any case, Abraham did not have all the answers, and he surely struggled with the unknown, but yet, he chose to trust God, and to obey. To surrender control and take his son to the altar.

And like Abraham, I will only find peace if I, too, make the journey to the altar and leave my precious son in the hands of the Lord.

My prayer:

Holy Father, it terrifies me to face unanticipated changes. I confess I am afraid of what could happen. I fear the unknown, I fear difficulties and loss. I do not want my son to suffer. He carries such a burden for one so young.

I come to you and I bring all the worries, all the fear, all the heartache, and I place it all on the altar. I surrender my son, my precious child, who I love, into your loving hands. I give His very life to you and I yield to Your plans and purposes for him. I let him go, Lord. I choose to trust in You, Lord, and You alone.

 

 

Letting Go

I have been feeling not quite right since eating out for lunch Saturday. Not horribly ill, but "off". A bit woozy from the imposed diet of only applesauce and crackers, and feeling almost as if I am watching the world go by in slow motion. Low motivation, even when it comes to trying to rest. I know the wisdom in taking some time to not  "push through"; and thankfully my work schedule is a bit on the lighter side this week, so there is some room for rest. However, I find that what I am doing is less "resting"  and more of feeling weak and wimpy.

Despite how I feel, I made it through the first morning back from spring break without being terribly cranky with my kids.  Mornings in my home are often a battle against time, with me struggling to stay calm as the boys get off track very easily. They would much rather play around than just get ready and get it over with.

 

Today I simply did not have the energy to be grumpy, or crack the whip. I had the attitude of "Whatever happens, happens."  I found myself moving a little slower than usual, and once or twice I quietly reminded them to be aware of the time. I did not fuss when Tyler chose to not eat his gluten free cinnamon toast and have only organic milk for breakfast. I simply asked him to put the untouched food into an Evolve Ziploc baggie, give insulin for the milk, and go brush his teeth. I was sure he would be hungry before lunch, and normally I would worry and stress over this-- but the thought struck me that perhaps he simply was not yet hungry. And perhaps hunger pains later will convince him to eat a little more another time... not that I will hang my hope on that (nor will I preach to him about it this afternoon). Who knows what the outcome will be, except that I did not overstress about making the morning "perfect.

Juggling two boys with special issues, and individual needs and likes can be a bit hairy, but this morning I did not have the strength to stress. I helped Tyler find clean clothes, and made sure Blaine's hair was wet down and combed-- not quite sleek or perfectly straight, but is it really that important for a 7 year old to have a flawless hairdo? Blaine was satisfied that his 'do was "Skater" enough (he likes the bangs across his face), and so I moved on to help Tyler tame the Alfalfa sprout at the back of his head, while also assisting Blaine in squeezing the rather mangled toothpaste tube. Next, Blaine and I practiced shoe tying (this is a sensory issue; he is still developing the fine motor skills to be able to accomplish the task), and while the bunny ear attempted to go into the hole, Tyler appeared in his clothing choice. I decided that it did not really matter whether or not my eleven year old accurately matched his blue pants and "sort of blue" shirt, and we moved on. 

The boys were amazingly quiet this morning, too. As we drove to school, I contemplated how well they both comply when I am not trying to force them to do the things that often, are unnecessary in the greater scheme of things.  I simply let the morning progress and did not become overly anxious about any one issue. An entry in my Mom's devotional bible says, "It is better to tuck in a happy, dirty child, than a cranky, clean one." Or to take one mostly combed and one sort of matching child to school, when they are simply happy I have the time (and sanity) to walk them to class.

 

As with all things, there must be balance.  Sometimes I think I over-stress about unimportant things. Is it really so very important that Blaine's cow-lick be perfectly tamed? (Particularly when it is hard for him to keep his head still for the amount of time it takes to paste it down.)These are things that have more do with what others might think of me as a mom, or even, my own perfectionism, than about what is best for my child. As I share my experiences with others, I am finding that for many mothers, so often what we do to try to be "a good mom" is actually striving for approval from other women (or perhaps, ourselves), and it does little to help the children-- or ourselves, for that matter.

 

While I do not desire to be "slightly ill" every morning, I am thankful for the opportunity to slow down and look at why I do what I do. And today, what I plan to "do" is focus on the most important things, and let all the rest go.

 

Delight Part - 1

My morning began with the normal rush to get the boys ready for school while sharing counter space with the hubby who is also hurrying to get out the door. Rush and hurry can make for strained conversation and opportunities for self-control. Many opportunities for self control. Of course, just to add a bit of extra stress, Thursday is the morning Blaine has to be at school half an hour early. 
 
The school nurse is out, so I made extra sure that all the diabetes supplies were laid out where the other staff members could easily find them, until I could pop back up to the school to take care of the lunchtime necessaries. Bg Check, carb count, and Bolus (or giving insulin through the pump for everything Tyler eats). "If you feed your mouth, tell your pump," as we often say. None of this is terribly difficult, just the facts of life we must plan around.

I've been running on about a half tank the past few weeks, trying to be sure that I'm taking some breaks weekly to relax, but never quite feeling refreshed. So I planned to take a little me time today. And then, the bottom dropped out. I was headed home to eat breakfast, and, I hoped, to take a quick walk before picking up groceries and diabetes supplies. I planned to spend a couple hours logging time at work. I had envisioned enjoying a peaceful day at home with no noisy boys running to and fro while I got my work done. Maybe even grab the ever elusive power nap.

And then... my cell phone was suddenly not working... unless plugged into the wall. Oh, dear. There goes "errand time." I have to have my cell phone in case the school nurse calls. The school staff must be able to communicate with me AT ALL TIMES. My son has a medical disorder, after all. So the trouble-shooting began.
 
You probably can guess the next part of the story. The 1-800 number told me I had to go to the local store. The local store told me I had to go to a different store (forty-five minutes away). I took care of Tyler's lunch routine, and explained to the school staff that I would be out of pocket for a little bit. "Call his dad if there is an emergency- but Tyler OUGHT to be fine, since he just had lunch". Hoping all would be fine, I made the trek across town to the special warehouse store. After quite a wait, they could not help me. "You have to call the 1-800 number." I thought, "You're kidding, right?" (The guy behind me was equally perturbed at getting the same answer. I won't tell you what he said.)

After driving forty-five minutes home —since the cell phone mostly worked, I contemplated simply waiting until tomorrow to deal with the rest- until I remembered that tomorrow Blaine has Occupational Therapy, and the appointment combined with drive time takes up most of the day. So I decided I had better push on and resolve the issue TODAY. Sigh. More phone calls, to the store near me again (who apologized for sending me on a wild goose chase, but really couldn't do anything at all for me.) The manager said, "All I can do is offer you an apology." I called the 1-800 number again, who gave me yet another 1-800 number to call. Just listing it all makes me tired. VERY tired.

So, six phone calls, a couple hours of driving all over the Dallas area, two supervisors, five sales people, and a $50 deductible later... The outcome is that insurance is going to cover a replacement phone. Partly, anyways. Which I think might be over-nighted to me, for a fee on my next bill, of course. UGH.
Suddenly it was homework time which is becoming synonymous with weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth. I forced my eleven year old to study for his science test tomorrow. I tested my seven year old on his spelling words (he whined out the spelling of each word... which would have been comical if I had not been so drained.) I made them both read for twenty minutes, and PRAISE THE LORD, there was no math homework tonight.

So it has been a day. Oh, what a day! I am tired, stressed, and so very tempted to run to the nearest grocery store and buy a turtle pie and stuff my face with about half of it. I could call it "pie therapy." 

When I am stressed, angry, hurt, disgusted (and I have run the gamut of each emotion today), it is easy to fill the void that grows with something that brings momentary gratification. We don't call them "comfort foods" for nothing. What I want is something to alleviate the stress, the pain, the disappointment.Perhaps in my craving for comfort, my foggy brain thinks chocolate is the answer to unwinding, but what I know to be true is that the longing for chocolate is really just a shadow of my longing for something else. Some One else.