I wouldn’t say it was great…I did have to stop Moe from chewing my sweater (because that’s a thing?!?!). And Bea got wiggly, so David took her out for a bit.
During consecration Moe was resting his face on his hands, and at one particularly quiet point he exhaled in a way that produced a surprisingly flatulent sounding raspberry. I’m not sure if our poor pew mates knew from which end that sound came…
Really those seem like reasonable issues for their ages, though, even if as parents we’re exhausted after Mass, it’s not surprising.
I’m wearing the usge– fit and flare dress, sweater, and sandals from Lands’ End, and a wooden bead necklace from the Cee & Elle collection.
I stayed after Mass to visit. With adults. For realz. David took half the kids home, and I kept half who played in the nursery. Usually I’m so drained after reigning everyone in that we leave right away, so it was a treat to talk to adults without someone tugging at me saying, “Let’s go, Mom,” over and over.
Since the call from Cincinnati we’ve been having a tough time adjusting. It doesn’t make sense, really, because nothing has changed. But there’s this increased understanding that life is going to get more complicated. As more and more doctors concur with the need for a double hip replacement for Cee, it’s becoming an unavoidable reality.
She’s doing well now, but we don’t know how quickly things are going to deteriorate.
In the SJIA online group a couple days ago one mom shared a picture of her hospitalized daughter who looked around three years old. She was connected to a whole network of cords and machines because she is struggling with complications to her heart and lungs. Another parent asked for an update as to her condition, and the response was, “She’s still alive.” That was the update.
Another family just posted that they have lost their battle with SJIA.
It’s hard not to dwell on both the suffering of these other families and the possibility that we could be next.
The Gospel reading from John 14 today opened with
Jesus said to his disciples:
“Do not let your hearts be troubled…”
And I’m all, “But my heart *is* troubled. My heart is majorly major troubled. How do I not let it be?!?!”
Denial isn’t healthy. But neither is wallowing. I’m not sure how to balance that. How to feel all the feels without letting it spoil Mother’s Day and life in general. We know people who are firmly in the denial camp or the wallowing camp. We don’t want to be in either.
As I’m type-ity typing, I can hear Elle singing in the next room. She’s making up the melody and words on the fly as she draws. She is singing the story of what she’s drawing. “Nothing at aaaaaaaalllllll!” she just belted out, power-ballad style.
This is life. This is not letting my heart be troubled. It is choosing to focus on the positive, not denying the gravity of a bad situation, but not allowing it to consume us either. It’s taking time to cry alone, but then choosing to get up and participate in life again. We’ve got dandelions to pick and books to read. There isn’t time for feeling sorry for ourselves or worrying about what might happen years down the road.
We are scared. We are worried. We don’t know what to do. But we can’t let that overpower the beauty of our imperfect life right now.
We only have today. That’s all. Today’s Gospel reading is a reminder to me, and to all of us, to keep sweeping up bits of joy from the dustpile.
If you haven’t already, you can like Sweeping Up Joy on facebook so you don’t miss posts. After a little break this Lent, I realized I didn’t have to say goodbye to social media forever. 🙂 We’re going through tough stuff…if you know anyone who is going through tough stuff too, feel free to pass along the blog so we can get through it together. <3