The roller coaster of a life I was meant to live.

Saturday brought an out of the blue, first ever seizure for my daughter that led to a trip to the emergency room only to leave with no answers. We chose to lay low for the remainder of the weekend and just be. Ahh, that felt good! Knowing that the week ahead held the strong likelihood of high stress outcomes, we savored every minute of our weekend.
On an average, there are anywhere from four to nine appointments that I journey out for weekly with the kids, most of which are routine and far from emotionally taxing. Today, however, was unsettling, vexing, and honestly downright ugly. Two simple appointments and we started off great, with my sons pre-op. He was cleared with flying colors for his first round of Botox and Phenol injections. On our way to loosening him up and preparing him to walk! We left there with smiles and a skip in our step (or wheels). No stress so far!
With some extra time on our hands we made our way over to one our favorite stores and then grabbed some lunch. Faces filled with delight, holding their new toys, we made our way to my other sons appointment. The title Interventional Cardiologist might scare some, but for us it was just another "ologist" to see and add to our list.
Our newly added "ologist" had far more to say than I was ready to hear, and I can take a lot! Maybe it is because I went in thinking we already had a small scare and everything turned out okay, or because we were just going to see him to "rule out" things. Whatever my mind had decided to believe kept me from worrying and I guess that is for the best. Dr. Smartypants (used huge "ology" words) was as nice as could be but as he spoke of the concerning factors and needed procedures, all I could see was horns coming out of his head. Was he the devil? Was this a bad joke?
Another, making that seven, surgeries will need to be done to test his venous pressure around his heart. Possible/probable placement of a balloon and/or stent if we are lucky, will need to be done. If we are not lucky? Well then, we will find an issue with the sack around his heart; that's when I went into the tunnel. My ears heard "if we find that, we will be looking at surgery, but if we find the other, we are talking transplant list". My mind however, heard transplant, and got stuck. I kept a solid "I am fine, and sure I got this" look on my face while my heart raced, my stomach turned and my mind reeled. What?!
Now, let me say that I strongly believe that he was simply being thorough and honest, giving me both the worst and best case scenarios. Problem is, I really didn't like either and as hard as I tried I couldn't get out of my tunnel vision.
Driving home my son was chatting with me a bit and I asked him how he felt about the appointment and what the doctor said. His reply yanked me out of my "stuck" instantly. "Mom, its not like this is our first rodeo, isn't that what you always say?"
There is a reason, a magnificently divine reason that I was gifted with being the mom of such perfectly imperfect medical puzzles. I may never fully understand the why, throw the occasional tantrum, and get stuck in my emotional tunnel at times, but I will never doubt that we were meant to be.
I want to say a huge THANK YOU to all of you that read my blog and dare to follow this emotional journey with us. Many of send positive words and thoughts and cover us in a blanket of prayer. Bless you!

Popcorn ceiling, focus on the popcorn ceiling. It's not happening, just pretend it's not happening. Why wasn't someone coming to help, knowing I was being hurt? How could no one on this ginormous planet not hear my screams?
I wasn't screaming outwardly, I was numb and my screams were deafening but only to myself as they were buried deep in my soul.

Years of memories were erased, or so I thought, from my mind. I desperately needed those years back, I needed those memories as awful as they may be, they were a part of my story and finally I had reached a place that I cherished my story and myself. The shame and fear and guilt that came with not remembering years of my life was heavy, as if somehow it was my fault for not holding firm to these horrific moments. My ongoing prayer was "God, in your perfect time, please reveal the truth and hold me tight as I see it".

Blessed with the world's most loving and understanding man by my side those memories came one after another, often bringing me to my knees. Was I really seeing my own reflection on the canvas that was once blank, now being painted with the darkest of dark?

That was me. This is me. However, I am not the me who used to be. By the grace of God I walked, sometimes crawled through the memories of old and peace eventually settled over me. No, the pain was not erased and the memories remained fresh but a new found sense of freedom began to fill me. I knew my story, all of my story and it didn't kill me, define me, or crush my spirit. That was a victory in and of itself.

Daily we are graciously invited into a myriad of dramas. As thoughtful as this is of our fellow earth sharing humans, we do have the power and right to kindly decline the invite.
My children are adorable little teachers of this, with their quick responses of "no way, jerk". Okay, I admit we ought to choose kinder words, however the decline to the invite is more than clear.  Some people mean well and with (sometimes)   genuine good intentions welcome us in to their seemingly endless dramas and with pity or maybe just obligation we accept. Then comes the gut wrenching, skin crawling, feeling of dread. In our feeling of being stuck, we continue down the path with them, all the while questioning why and how we got there. We made the choice. We accepted the invite.
So now what? How in the world do we still be a friend, show compassion, and love well, yet safely guard ourselves and set solid boundaries?
Simple, right? Nope! The reason you accepted the invite in the first place is because you have an overgrown and beautiful heart. Let's not change that one bit, rather let's  add teacher into those labels. We can all love and teach those in our circles of the value they hold and the part they play in this world. Distance is your friend here, your heart is precious so guard it carefully as you walk this road. Loving well,
by no means equals being a door mat.
Those dramas have authentic pain behind them, faces and names attached to them, and they reached out to you because of a need. Evaluate  what you can give, how much, and set those boundaries. In my experience the receiver is far more appreciative of authenticity and boldness in love than phony, obligated concern.
Love well, both yourself and others!

Gracious, intensely passionate, empathetic, ridiculously fun, driven, fitness addicted, first rate father to many, foxy. Jason Neal, my husband, my rock! 

Seasons of life bring about opportunities for growth and reflection. As I find myself embarking on a new season I get stuck on a beautiful truth, my husband is a blessing I am daily amazed by. 

Marriage is precious, requiring a fine balance of soft-spoken gentleness and a fiery fighting force. We looked each other in the eyes and vowed to cherish, to love, to forgive, to fight for one another and our union. Marriage is not to be taken lightly, it is to be treasured, every moment savored, each mountain climbed embraced and etched in our memories. The good, the bad, the ugly, all to be soaked in bringing forth more beauty and resilience, deepening our love. 

With each day my children awake to a written message from their father with words that uplift, affirm, and awaken their spirits. His love for his children is one of the greatest loves I have ever seen. It is a gift to be his wife, to see his love for life pour out into the lives of others. His last dollar given to one in need, his forgiveness never ending, his grace and mercy in his eyes and words, his heart fully sold out for God, he is my hero, my love. 

Hold tight those you love and fight with a fierceness for the

good of them and all.