06-18-07 That's the way the cookie crumbles...

Wow. Time keeps stomping out its endless march forward. It is a merciless, foe; ever present and ever vigilant. There is nothing anyone can do to slow its pace or to get it back. We cannot hold onto it to save it for later or pause it to remain in the moment a little while longer. Once it passes it is gone forever.

I’ve written this eloquent introduction instead of staring with, “AAAAAAHHHHHHGGGGGGG!” I thought it might be a little more grown up to ponder the mysteries of time rather than admit that I am feeling overwhelmed, overburdened and just plain exhausted with life right now. This thing with Landon dying from some sort of trauma is so mind numbingly horrific that I just can’t wrap my brain around it. Add to that the deaths of more precious children to congenital birth defects and a friends’ niece dying two days before delivery for absolutely *no* apparent reason and I want to scream, “NNNOOOOOOOO! That’s enough! Dear God, how long will the innocent suffer? How long will your judgment be withheld from this fallen world? How long until we feel the gentle, cool breeze of Heaven’s shore and all this pain and suffering will be a forgotten memory? I want, I need, I desire, I require Your salvation to take me through every moment of every day. Come now, Lord! Bring Your kingdom to reign. Your grace and mercy are all that separate me from the blazing fire that burns at my heels as I walk through life.”

I am sure that some of my bleak outlook is due in part to the fact that I am extremely sleep deprived right now. And the stress of taking care of four children and five residents without any real days off isn’t helping either. We are so far not able to find relief caregivers who are reliable… Check that… Who bother to show up! I am on the verge of tears at any given moment. It doesn’t take much to reduce me to a sniffling mess lately. Amidst the clouds of sadness there are however, some beaming rays of sunshine.

I am overjoyed to share that Silas is progressing and growing wonderfully. There is absolutely nothing to differentiate him from any other 15 month old. He has eight front teeth and two molars poking through his sore little gums. And even though he isn’t *running* around yet (although I'm sure he will catch you someday Nanette!) he has definitely left crawling behind… Well, unless of course, one of his siblings is playing a chasing game and his adrenaline rush flings him to the floor and he scampers past with a squeal! He has given up nursing completely (much to my chagrin and resignation) but he is eating and drinking everything like a big person so I am at peace about it. He is healthy and growing and extremely active. He has a very determined sense of what he wants and will try any number of tantrums or “suck-ups” to get it. I am sure he is a bit spoiled, but I am unsure to what extent I should go with the discipline. Take time-outs for example; is he screaming because he doesn’t like being in his play pen in time-out? Or is he feeling panicked that I’ve left him all alone just like in the NICU? After the few times we’ve done a time-out, he has been EXTREMELY clingy and won’t let go of me for a long time. I just don’t know.

Jerusha, now six, has been an angel whose halo hides her horns. She can be so loving, cute and adorable that I think I will burst with the sweetness of her personality. “Good night. Sleep tight. Don’t let the bug-beds bite. Mommy, can the tooth fairy read? Do we have to write really small for her to read it?” And then her horns flash through and she tries to maul the dog to death, sneak an extra piece of cake for desert or dump a bottle of nail polish on the bedroom rug; “It was on accident, Mommy.” Yeah, well it was Savannah’s nail polish and you had to climb up the shelves to get your little hands on it when you know you’re not supposed to, Jerusha!

Then there’s Savannah (age nine) who asked on the last day of school if there were any way she could go to summer school. I have to literally ground her from her books just to get her outside to play. I also have to remind her that sitting under a tree reading does not constitute *PLAY*. Her vocabulary and creativity are astounding although they need to be reigned in at times. And one ongoing question is, “Mom, what were your favorite mystery books when you were a kid?” I am not sure how much longer I can avoid telling her that it was Agatha Christie who most captured my attention with the detailed, adult descriptions of murder, intrigue and passion. These are not books that I wish my nine year old to delve into just yet! The world definitely does *NOT* need another me running around in it, so let’s avoid the graphic, mind altering input into my child’s mind shall we?

Micah (age twelve) went to Washington, DC with his dad and the Young Marines this summer. They had an all together wonderful adventure. It was a Civil War trip and the group visited some awesome places and learned so much about the war that decided the fate of our great nation so many years ago. They saw Gettysburg, Fredericksburg, homes that still stand riddled with bullet holes and so many monuments to the brave soldiers who have lost their lives over the years in defense of our country.

It is massively huge! I had no idea.

They also bumped into an unexpected senator who reluctantly posed for a picture with a few of the YMs.

Once, when the YMs were in the airport, a young lieutenant had disembarked from his plane and came to say hi to their group. When he left, he removed a patch from his uniform and handed it to Micah. He said, “I have carried this patch the whole time I have been in Iraq fighting. I’m home now, and I don’t need it anymore.” Another soldier who ate lunch with the YMs gave my son one of his chevrons and told Micah that he would get another one because he was shipping off to Iraq shortly. Two men on either side of battle. Two men who’d leave their families and everything they knew and loved behind to fight for the protection of all they hold dear. Two men who go to defend my freedoms. I am amazed and in awe of these men and I say thank-you anytime I cross paths with uniformed military personnel. The patch and chevron mean so much to Micah that he carries them around in his wallet and tells everyone he can about the remarkable men who gave him their mementos of battles won and battles yet to come. He is a very sensitive kid and this experience has touched him to the core. I wonder what impact it will have on his future. Albert too enjoyed the experience immensely and came home with trinkets for everyone (much to the delight of the girls). He and Micah are already talking about next year’s program!

As for me, I am surviving. Each day brings new trials and I struggle to keep up with them. I feel I am swimming against the current with each wave washing over my head and making me gasp for breath. It is hard to keep the joys of life at the forefront of one’s mind when the trials loom so constant and so large. I guess “that’s the way the cookie crumbles”. I just wish there were more chocolate chips in my cookie lately… Maybe even an M&M or two, eh? Oh well, at least it is a cookie and not broccoli.