Hands Wide Open

I’ve been gone. Away. Not Here. Please Do Not Disturb.

I had lapses of faith this winter. I had questions of “Why are we in this situation?” and “Where is God in all of this?”.  Questions that I know other people contemplate but maybe don’t admit to others. Perhaps not even to themselves. I tried desperately to get over it, to mask my restlessness by reading one more book, watching one more movie, walking one more mile. It didn’t work.

In this process of my restless questioning, I hit the pause button on faith, hope, and love. I became kind of a hermit, did not want to see all that many people, realized that I didn’t really have all that much to offer anyone (not that anyone was expecting anything out of me).  But who wants to be around someone whose cup is empty most of the time? And all I had was resentment and bitterness. About a lot of things.

My downward spiral began when I started focusing on things that were beyond my control. But the lie was that I could control them. The enemy is sneaky in that way. I believed that I could make my own way and do my own thing and be okay, be better actually.  I soon lost hope and began to despair. Faith and love quickly fled out the back door as well. And some might question if they were really true in the first place if they can leave so easily. Maybe. Maybe not. I just know I was dry and brittle inside. And when I wasn’t angry, I was numb.

I don’t know what triggered release from all of that. If there is one moment or many moments of realization that draw a person back to God, to reality.  Or if my fingers had to be pried open from the idea of control I had grasped onto. I just know a few things happened to me lately that made me gaze up instead of in.

I recently saw an old friend. And she looked so beautiful…and I realized I wanted what she had. I could see it in her eyes. I could hear it in her story. And it’s what I’d been missing but had so desperately needed. And it’s something no medication of any kind will ever bring. Peace…The kind that goes beyond human comprehension…The kind that when the situation looks its darkest, there is still that. And, I realize  it’s not something I can strive for or buy or grasp at. It’s something I receive when everything else falls away. When hands are held up, not in despair, but in gratitude and release.

A while back, Jeff couldn’t sleep one night, and he felt like the Holy Spirit was giving him a word for me and for each of our children…the things that we needed. And the word for me was, “IT will be there.” At the time, I assumed that the IT was money, because that always seemed to be the most pressing need, the thing that I worried about the most, and for some reason, I always seemed to think that money would solve the problem and be the answer, even though I never would say that out loud. Convinced that money was the IT that the Holy Spirit was talking about, I was confused and resentful when the money wasn’t always there when we needed it.

But money wasn’t the IT at all. I didn’t realize that until a good deal later that the IT was peace. “Peace will be there.” And that no matter what happened to me or my family or my friends or my belongings, now or in the future, peace can always be there.

For me, peace is like letting go and twirling in a field on a sunny day with wildflowers all about, face looking up to a cloudless sky with hands and arms that are held out that go higher and higher and become lighter and lighter until I feel like I could touch the face of Abba. And laughter, of course…wild, silly, hopeful laughter.

Kids, Diapers, and Stand-Out Moments

When you have really little kids, older moms like to say, “Enjoy them while they’re young, because you’re going to blink, and blah, blah, blah,” and I know I smiled sweetly and rolled my eyes, but in my brain I was thinking, “Are you crazy? I would give anything to have my kids grow up faster so I can have ten minutes in the bathroom to myself without someone beating down the door.”

Come to think of it, they still beat on my door while I’m in the bathroom. That really hasn’t changed all that much. But there are definitely some things that have changed; some things that made me giddy and had me jumping up and down.

Here are a of those few stand-out moments for me:

1. A few years back, on a trip I realized there were no more diapers to change. NO ONE WAS IN DIAPERS ANYMORE. I no longer had to try to change a wiggly little kid with a dirty diaper on a van seat, trying to figure out where to put all those used wipes, while trying not to get poop all over the van. And after 11 years of diapers with one year off around year 7, I was ecstatic.

2. But, even though there were no more diapers to change, there was still poop to deal with because there is the butt-wiping that takes place for a good while longer. But the day I woke up and realized I wasn’t wiping anyone else’s behind was a good day, a very good day. It’s the kind of thing that catches you off guard. It just kind of happens, and then you notice you have been freed and the freedom is, I must say, rather crazy good. So much so that you want to start telling everyone you see.

3. A while back, when my in-laws took us out to eat, I noticed I didn’t have to order off the menu for anyone. They all read and can figure out what they want. And not only that,  I’m not cutting stuff up anymore. I noticed Julia picked up her hunk of steak and chowed down. But you know what? She’s happy; I’m happy. She’ll probably eventually learn not to do that.

4. I don’t have to lock cabinets afraid that someone might drink something they’re not supposed to drink or down too many gummy vitamins. I haven’t had to call poison control for some time. That’s always nice.

5. No one has played in the toilet or put things in it that don’t belong, like say, toys or toothbrushes for a good long while. Now, they don’t always flush and since I have four boys, my bathroom is rarely clean and the seat inevitably stays up. But, no toilets have had to be completely taken apart to retrieve toothbrushes.

And, here are some really good things that stand out these days:

1. Talking. We sit around and talk a lot, which I love, since quality time is my thing. We talk about everything. Into the wee hours of the night sometimes. Like last night, my two oldest just didn’t want to go to bed. At 1  o’clock in the morning, they followed Jeff and me into our room, exhausted, but wanting to be around us some more. Very cool.

2. We play games and do puzzles. I have a few kids who really like to play games and connect in that way when connecting is sometimes difficult in other ways.

4. We watch movies that I have loved sharing with my kids, which inevitably evokes more conversation since we have to analyze everything to death.

5. We laugh and joke and have fun. And, yes, sometimes at other people’s expense. For Thanksgiving, we went to see my family. Julia got carsick and threw up. Jeff insisted that her brother Jonah, sitting beside her, hold the trash can while she was vomiting so her hands could be free to hold her hair out of the way. Her brother Jake, sitting in front of her, was holding his ears so he wouldn’t hear her vomiting. And Jesse (biggest brother, sitting as far away from her) and I were laughing, while Jeff continued to drive and insist that Jonah keep holding that trash can. I’m just not sure what Jeremiah was doing because I was laughing too hard at Jake and Jonah to notice. We finally came to a gas station, where we all tumbled out of the car. We all talked and laughed and replayed the whole thing again while Jeff washed the trash can out in nasty, leafy, drainage water. More laughter, of course. And then we all piled back into the van and continued on.  Julia was fine, by the way.

6. We camp. And even though a couple of them aren’t that fond of it, they humor me. And we have a good time. Together. And even though we’re together all the time (due to homeschooling) we’re really together in a tent, out in nature, and it’s great most of the time. Unless you bring one scooter and have four kids who all want to ride that one scooter at the same time, the whole time. Will be camping. Won’t be bringing the scooter.

7. They run around like a bunch of crazy lunatics who are completely out of control. And they’re big; they could knock each other and me down, and it would hurt. A lot. They have no common sense when they get like this, and their hearing becomes impaired (I read this in a magazine somewhere), so I get out of the way and laugh. And say things like, “Watch your brother’s neck” and “Please, don’t drop him on his head.” Even though I know they can’t hear me between my laughing and their lack of sense.

So for any moms out there who still have little ones, they really won’t stay that way long, (blah, blah, blah), hang on and enjoy. And please, by all means, share your stand-out moments.

the fake lay-down

I didn’t mean to lay them down, only to take them up again. That certainly wasn’t my intention. And I honestly thought I laid them down. I thought they gone for good…lack of trust, fear, anger, blame.

For some reason, they seem to vanish when my circumstances change and things don’t look quite so grim, when the bills are paid and there’s money in the bank and groceries in the fridge.  I’m overwhelmed when God provides and applaud Him for His amazing miraculous provision, but what happens right before the provision comes? When the bills aren’t paid and there’s no provision in sight? Then things get a little desperate, and I go a little nuts with worry and fear, and the things I thought I laid down are staring me right in the face again.

The fear and the doubt take over, and everything in me screams for relief, praying like crazy that He would provide once again, even though I’ve seen Him provide again and again. And begging Him for my circumstances to change. But if they did, I know I wouldn’t need Him quite so desperately anymore. So I’m still here, circling around again, and the same stuff is being revealed. Big surprise.

I look at the children of Israel wandering around in the wilderness year after year after year, and they didn’t get it either. And I know I wouldn’t have been any better; I haven’t been any better.

They were people in dire circumstances…out in the desert for three days with no water. They complained. Of course they did. I would have thought I was dying.

Then, the Israelites didn’t have food. I can imagine their little ones with their parched mouths and hungry stomachs and their cries of “Give us food before we die.” They complained and blamed Moses. And I complain because I have to eat the same food.

They constantly begged to go back to Egypt, where they built things up as being better than they were. This too sounds familiar.

I’ve had my 40 years in the desert, and I don’t want to keep wandering around here for another 40. This time, I really, honestly want to lay this stuff down. I don’t want to continue this pattern of circling around and around, while I try to learn the same lessons over and over again.

I want to be different. I want to trust and look above my circumstances at Him, knowing He is the Giver of all good things, including circumstances that make us grow and change. And yet, sometimes, my eyes just fall back to my circumstances and my need only. And I become fearful and angry and start pointing fingers because things aren’t different, like I think they should be.

I’m officially eliminating the word “should” from my vocabulary. Because unfortunately it has taken on a life of its own. I have used “should” to put expectations on God and other people for what they “should” have done for me. And “should” was never good when I used it for myself either, as in I “should” have done this or that…heaping on guilt and shame.

So with “should” gone, I feel freedom from my past as well as lowered expectations (let’s be honest, they probably haven’t completely vanished with a speech change). But maybe this time, I will lay these things down, and I will have victory.

I want to do it better this time. And if I have to continue to wander here, I want to wander better. I want to complain less and not be so stinking fearful but to hope in Him, not for what He can provide but because of Who He is.

All Being Equal

I really like to camp. I love the family time and being around the campfire eating good food and the talking and the hiking and the camping equipment. I like everything about it (well, except for the packing up, maybe). I recently found myself in a Coleman store filled with camping “must-haves,” and I lost myself for a while.

A few weeks back, we went camping with some friends. During this trip, I realized something about myself. It was like a voice, not necessarily God’s, but I don’t discount it, because I heard truth. In my head I heard, “You’re not as laid back as you think you are, or as much as you would have people believe.” And I realized that I have not been honest with myself or with others about the persona I sometimes portray.

During this trip, my friend talked about one of her relatives being like “whatever” about everything. Her description of this person gave me clarity about who I’m not, realizing that I’m not totally relaxed about everything like I would like to think I am. And that that’s ok. And that in realizing this about myself, that I have expected that in others and that I need to cut people some slack, especially those closest to me.

Because heaven help Jeff if he takes a tone with me or is not as relaxed as I think he should be. And my seemingly favorite words to a couple of my kids are, “Chill out” or “Relax already.” The irony being that at the moment these words are uttered through gritted teeth, I myself am neither chilled nor relaxed. I happened to catch myself saying this just a few minutes ago to the one who looks a lot like me.

And that’s where the problem lies…thinking others should be as relaxed as I think I am…

I lost my keys the other day for a few minutes. I have a habit of laying things down places and not having any idea of where I’ve put them. But when I use to lose stuff, it would make me angry, and I would have these outbursts of rage, unable to believe that I had actually lost something, meaning that someone else must have taken the thing and put it where I couldn’t find it.

After I located my keys, Jeff complimented me by saying that I didn’t rage nearly as often as I used to. And I commented that I never did do it very much. However, he kindly refuted my statement about myself by saying, “Oh, no, you used to do it every couple of weeks.” I had to chuckle because I think he’s right; he remembers these outbursts well because they were so over the top and apparently because they occurred more often than I recalled.

So rather than pretend I’m a totally relaxed, fly by the seat of my pants type of person or try to be this “whatever” type of person, I need to embrace who Abba has created me to be. Not perfect, not altogether laid-back, but not exactly uptight either about most things. Just me, trying to be grateful for the people gifts Abba put in my life, embracing them and allowing them to be who they are and realizing that one type of person is not better than another.

What Got Into You?

At times, I feel like I’m just like Peter who was so quick to jump out of the boat to walk to Jesus in the middle of the storm, only to take his eyes off Him and begin to notice the wind blowing hard around him. And then, I too, look down and notice the waves churning around my feet, and I realize I’m not safe. I’ve left safety behind in following Him, and now that I’m out of the boat, what in the world do I do? 

Doubts about His goodness creep in and overwhelm me, and I begin flailing my arms and fighting against Him in an attempt to save myself. And I begin to sink lower and lower in worry and self-pity and discontent. And the little girl inside me is throwing things…and more flailing occurs.

“Master, save me.” That’s what Peter said. And I too say that, but what I really mean is “Get me out of this stinking mess.”

But Jesus, what did He do for Peter? What does he even now do for me?

He didn’t hesitate. He reached down and grabbed his hand. Then he said, “Faint-heart, what got into you?”

Pride. Arrogance. Doubt. Fear. Anger.

And I realize I don’t want to necessarily be emptied of myself…die daily to self…to really be rescued, but what I want is relief from the struggles I find myself in. I need a breather…I want to be able to relax and have things the way I want them for a while and life not be such a struggle.

But as I wrestle through all of this,  Jesus reminds me that this training I’m in is not in vain…that I’m in the same race that Jesus was in.

Fix your eyes on Jesus, who endured the cross, shame, etc…When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again…So don’t feel sorry for yourselves...This trouble you’re in isn’t punishment; it’s training. God is doing what is best for us, training us to live God’s holy best. Keep a sharp eye out for weeds of bitter discontent. Watch out for the Esau syndrome; trading away God’s lifelong gift in order to satisfy a short-term appetite. (parts of Hebrews 12, MSG)

And so, I stop flailing long enough to really say “Master, save me.” In those three words, I finally admit my own weakness and my need for Him and Him alone and submit to Him in trusting- obedience.

When I look at what Jesus went through for me, it’s hard to feel sorry for myself, but in His kindness He doesn’t beat me over the head with it, He gently reminds me to focus on Him and not grow weary and lose heart.

The Real Super Power

It’s the middle of the night, and I really should be sleeping now.  My lack of sleep will cost me dearly. But right now, I don’t care. The little girl inside me can’t stop jumping up and down because of Jesus. If the almost forty year old woman that houses the little girl attempts to jump and keep up, she might sprain an ankle, so writing is where it now manifests itself. (But, please by all means, continue to picture the little girl jumping and twirling because that’s what I’m really doing in my spirit).

Remembering and sharing…that’s what I’ve been doing the last few days. We have a sort of family reunion/Kuzin Kamp for the kids, and the unique thing about Jeff’s extended family is that many profess to be believers, which is an amazing thing. I realize what  a gift this is when I talk to friends who have very little family who are believers. So we get to share for three days about what God’s been doing in our lives for the last year.

But along with this remembering and sharing, Abba has revealed a couple things to me in the past few days. First, that I like to surround myself with people who are similar to me and have the same faith I do. (that’s why church can be such a crutch for me…I feel important there, and it’s not supposed to be about me; it’s supposed to be about Him) I get my “God talk” there and feel no real need beyond that to share anywhere else . Second, that I have a hard time reaching out to people who are not believers because of my fear of rejection and not wanting to be presumptuous. And the combination of those two things has left me paralyzed.  I don’t want to presume on people’s time, and I can’t face them anyway because of the lies I’ve believed about myself. Sadly, it has left me voiceless to those who need Christ so badly.

 I recently read the fiction book, A Voice in the Wind by Francine Rivers, which took place in Roman times, but applies a great deal to how we live here and now.

We must remember we are not called upon by God to make society a better place to live. We are not called upon to gain political influence, nor to preserve the Roman [American]way of life. God has called us to a higher mission, that of bringing to all mankind the Good News that our Redeemer has come…” (341)

Honestly, I have done very little of this. I have this Message of freedom, and I see so many around me in bondage, and I’ve failed to attach myself in relationships and tell of this freedom in Christ. However, I don’t look at myself with condemnation or judgment or shame or strive in my own flesh to knock down people’s doors and become the neighborhood menace, because that’s not done in relationship. It’s not about guilt or fear or shame or about doing better. It’s not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength that God gives that allows you to endure the unendurable. (Col. 1) It’s about listening and following Him and where He leads. It’s allowing people to look into our lives and the Spirit revealing Jesus’ power to heal and save.

Thankfully, God looks at me and sees Jesus and His righteousness. I am worthy because He makes me worthy.Which makes my spirit leap inside me (hence the jumping up and down/writing) Which, in turn, makes me want to know Him better. I’ve seen His power in my own life…power to free me from pits that I had no hope of ever getting out of in my own strength, power to love people I had no power to love, power to provide when there was nothing, and I’ve barely scratched the surface.  But when people begin to see His power and His love and not just Jesus talk (although that certainly has its place) but actual living proof of who Jesus is and what He can do in people’s lives, then that not only becomes worth living for but also worth dying for.

God’s Way is not a matter of mere talk; it’s an empowered life. (I Cor. 4:18, MSG)

seeing past the bedroll

Jesus healed a man on the Sabbath, a man who had been crippled for 38 years. This man had been waiting by the pool at Bethesda for the angel to heal him. But he had no one to put him into the water. So he waited, alone.

Jesus passed by one day and told the crippled man, “Pick up your mat and start walking.” And he did.

Some of the Jews happened to see this healed man walking around with his bedroll on the Sabbath. And they scolded him because he wasn’t following  the lengthy list of rules that they had concocted of what could and couldn’t be done on the Sabbath (ie. not carrying your bedroll around).

They weren’t happy that this man, who had suffered his whole life, could now walk. They didn’t care that this man had been waiting at the pool alone.  They were only interested in everyone following their rules and their agendas because, in their minds, that’s what made them and everyone else good with God, or at the very least, good with them.

So they looked past the healing that had taken place in this man and saw only the bedroll that he was carrying around and the rules he was breaking.

And this is what Jesus says to them, “You search the Scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life…But I know that you do not have the love of God within you.”

Jesus knew that they didn’t really know God because of their lack of love…their lack of care for those around them.

But I realize that seeing only the bedroll,  isn’t just about religious rules that  people try to inflict on each other, it’s about a lack of compassion that encompasses a whole host of things, such as my own need to be right which leads me to compare myself with others and ends in a judgmental, critical spirit that pervades everything at times.

Isn’t everything you have and everything you are sheer gifts from God? So what’s the point of all this comparing and competing?   (I Cor. 4, MSG)

In the Gospels, when Jesus saw the people around Him,  He was often ”moved with compassion.” He realized they were sheep without a shepherd…broken, lonely and desperate for His healing touch.

Jesus understood people’s hearts and motives and loved them, and His love changed them. It still does. 

For me, seeing past the bedroll is about compassion…loving the people around me right where they are, not trying to fix them or change them or judge them. And realizing, too, that they are gifts Abba has so generously given me.

recalculating

A couple Christmases ago, Jeff got me a GPS. I think it was one of the best gifts ever for me. I am directionally challenged, and I lack map skills, and driving around Nashville in traffic with Google maps was just not safe for me and anyone driving near me.

I have to admit, I’m a little nuts about my GPS. So, Jeff and Jesse recently messed with it. On purpose. Each time I got into the van, they had changed something on it. I’m a little slow…But when the GPS woman started speaking in Mandarin Chinese,  I finally figured out that the buttons hadn’t been pushed accidentally.

They thought this was funny and were secretly laughing behind my back. For days.

It seems, though, that following directions is not my strong suit either. When the GPS woman says, “Turn now,” I sometimes don’t, and when she announces the street names, I still miss them.  So my favorite feature is when she says, “Recalculating…recalculating…recalculating. ” It could just be me, but after a while, she almost seems a little angry that she has to say it so often.

Abba has a way of recalculating life for us too. We set out on a plan, the way we think our lives should go. And then He steps in and messes up our well laid-out plans, and some of us secretly think to ourselves, “How dare He.”

Our family has been in the process of having our lives recalculated for a while now, and at times it’s painful and scary, and it often looks a little absurd. Some days I’m up for it, and some days I just want to go my own way… live a life of comfort and safety…a life that doesn’t require too much of me or out of me. 

And then I look at Scripture, and I look at the life that Jesus led and realize I don’t have that option. Not really.

When the people came out to see John the Baptist in the wilderness, he shocked them by calling them “Brood of snakes.” Because John knew their hearts and their motives, and he knew they were coming only for the show everyone was talking about. John told them that their lives must change. Their response to his name calling, “What should we do?” He said,”If you have two coats give one away;  do the same with your food.”

Really? That’s it? That’s the changed life that John was talking about?

I read Scripture, and all of a sudden I see it all over the place. This is real love in action….no longer just words. It’s hearing the Word and doing it. And it has to encompass everyday life.

The early church got it. And people noticed. Because the thing that set the early church apart was their shared life.  They shared their food; they shared their possessions; they shared their lives. And their shared lives and love for each other amazed the people around them.

But people can share life, and there still be no real life in it. So there had to be more. The real difference in their lives? Jesus.  They weren’t just talking about Jesus; they were following Jesus and listening to the Holy Spirit and what He told them to do. 

The early church realized that the kingdom and kingdom living were more important than anything else. And the people around them came to Jesus by the thousands.

As I look at my life, I wonder if others see Jesus even a little bit or am I busy only talking about Him? Do they see love and real life and not just another person grabbing for what she thinks will make her happy? So, this brings me to a recalculation of what is important and what I’m realizing is not.

Take care of My sheep. That’s what Jesus told Peter. I think it’s as simple as that.

I’m called to this life of love. And it’s not the love that syrupy songs are written about. It’s a life of sacrifice, of inconvenience, of risk, of insecurity, of suffering, of waiting, of hands wide open…of receiving but also of letting go, of contentment, of gratefulness in everything. It’s the Jesus life and settling for anything less will always come up short.

“If you don’t go all the way with me, through thick and thin, you don’t deserve me. If your first concern is to look after yourself, you’ll never find yourself. But if you forget about yourself and look to me, you’ll find both yourself and me.  (Matthew 10)

anything but good?

I cannot imagine what the Jesus followers felt at this point all those years ago…devastated, hopeless, filled with fear.

Their Teacher, the Savior of the world died and left them alone. He promised them life, and He Himself died, and not just died a normal death but a death that only criminals died, a heinous excruciating death.

This man forgave sins and raised people from the dead and opened blind eyes and fed thousands of people, but He couldn’t save Himself from death. How could they trust what He said?

They wasted three years of their lives following this man all over the countryside, listening to a bunch of crazy things He said.  And for what?  This? He was supposed to be mighty and powerful, and the night before His death, He washed their feet and told them to serve others. It didn’t make any sense.

He abandoned them. And what were they supposed to do? Wait to be arrested and killed because of Him?

This man, who called Himself the Son of God gave glimpses of hope to many, only to have that same hope dashed by His untimely death.

To his disciples, Good Friday was anything but good.

But to us, who now celebrate Jesus’ resurrection in Easter, we know Jesus’ brutal death was necessary to take away sin and death…it was necessary for freedom. And Jesus told His disciples these things, but they weren’t yet given the insight in order to be able to see it.

But don’t we act like those same disciples?

Jesus says over and over do not be afraid, and yet we cling to our fear. He says, don’t worry about the things that might happen to us or our kids or our parents or our money or our stuff, and all we are is a big bucket of worry.  We too, fail to see the bigger picture of what the Kingdom is all about.

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes.  Matthew 6

For me, Good Friday is a reminder of not only the suffering that took place for me…for all, but a reminder to trust in an Abba who is working out all things for the greater good that I often miss.  Just like the disciples, many times I don’t get what’s going on…not really. But I don’t have to.

Perplexed, but not in despair…not sure what to do, but we know that God knows what to do.

So we’re not giving up. How could we! Even though on the outside it often looks like things are falling apart on us, on the inside, where God is making new life, not a day goes by without his unfolding grace…The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever. 2 Cor. 4

I want to be like those birds that Jesus talks about in Matthew 6, the ones that don’t sow or reap or gather into barns, not worried about the future…free and unfettered…careless in the care of God.

too old to sled…

With all the snow we got this winter, we went sledding on a hill near our house. The second time we went, it was very cold and the snow had turned icy.

We have two sleds, so it takes a while for all seven of us to get a turn. A couple of my kids went down, and then Jeremiah and I got on our long blue sled and went down together, like we had done the day before.

I knew as soon as we pushed off that I was sitting up too high in the sled.  And, due to the ice,  the sled was going faster than it had the day before. I knew we might be in trouble, but I didn’t have time to ”right” myself.

I usually laugh all the way down the hill, but when we hit the first bump, I quit laughing because I knew the inevitable was about to happen.  We hit the second bump, and Jeremiah and I went flying off the sled. I tried not to land on top of Jeremiah, so I stopped myself and landed on my hand.

I don’t do so well with pain.  I don’t know how in the world I gave birth to five kids, even with drugs. Because, I can stub my toe really badly and feel like I’m going to throw up. So when I landed on my hand, I laid in the snow for a long time and focused on not throwing up.  

Jeremiah immediately jumped up and looked at me and said he wanted to go home. I just nodded at him. Jeff thought I was ok at first and waited for me to bust out in laughter.  He kept calling my name from the top of the hill, but I couldn’t answer because I really thought I might pass out or throw up or something.

So I just laid there in the snow until Jeff came down the hill.  When Jeff reached me, he said he would pull me back to the car in the sled.  But I declined and said I could walk.  I mean, there were people standing at the top of the hill, and I’m not that much of a baby. Geesh.

However, I should have taken him up on his offer because every few steps I would get lightheaded and feel like I was going to throw up all over again, so I would lie back down in the snow, kind of like a slow collapse.  We had 50 steps or more to get to the car.  So it took awhile. Step. Step. Step. Collapse back down in the snow until the lightheadedness and urge to throw up subsided. Step. Step. Step. Lie down in the snow.

We eventually got back to the car and got home. I couldn’t move my hand, and my wrist looked broken or at least out of place. I was all pale and lying gingerly on the couch, moaning in pain.

So Jeff took me to the emergency room to have a few x-rays, to find out not only was it not broken, but that there was nothing they could even do even if it was.  But that’s a whole other thing about our broken health care system and the absurb amount of money that they now want for doing next to nothing. (note to self: never go near an ER ever again.)

My wrist and hand are somewhat better now (it’s been 3 months), but I’m thinking I might have to forego sledding in the future if I want my body to remain intact for the long haul.

Actually, the RN at the hospital said I couldn’t sled anymore. I didn’t bother to clarify with her…Did she mean just the rest of this winter or forever?

I’ve always been spastic and prone to injury, so it’s no surprise that I would hurt myself, and I inherited my dad’s pain tolerance, not my mother’s. Although I don’t think my dad feels like throwing everytime he hurts himself.

Unfortunately, one of the people who witnessed my whole sledding incident told my neighbor about it the next day when they were out on the hill.

He described it to my neighbor something like this, This girl and her kid went sledding down the hill, and they hit a bump and legs went flying in the air, and they went sprawling across the snow. The kid got up, but she just kept lying in the snow. Her husband called her name several times, and she didn’t answer. So he went down to see if she was ok. He helped her up, but then a few minutes later, she fell back down in the snow.  After every very few steps, she would slump back down and lay with her face in the snow.  It looked really bad.

Which you’d think from how I was acting, it was really bad.  But nope, I just hurt my hand.

If anyone ever tries to hurt or torture me (too much Criminal Minds), that person will definitely have some surprises coming his way…