Mamma Said

by | May 12, 2012 | Chronic Illness, CVID, Thankfulness

I’m sure there are a lot of blogs about Moms going up this weekend. And I’m no exception. But, I’ve got a bit of different take.

A year and a half ago I became a different kind of mom. I’m now a mom living with chronic illness. Up until then, I was a get-er-done mom. A homeschooling mom. A supportive mom. A writer mom. I kept a fairly clean house, I kept us organized and on track. But then, my CVID (Common Variable Immune Deficiency, or Hypogammaglobulinemia) went full-blown. And I went down. Hard.

I’ve had to change my idea of what a mom is and what a mom does and adjust my expectations. My kids have always been good kids. Thoughtful and considerate. But, things have changed with them during all this, too.

My kids notice when I don’t feel great. They tell me to go sit down. They take tools out of my hand and say, “That’s enough, Mom.” My daughter, in particular, will tell me to go lay down, sit down, stop. One particular day, I must have looked pretty done-in because after my daughter told me to go lay down, she proceeded to cook our dinner, get it all served and get her and her brother ready to go. I woke up to steak, potatoes and a salad. I have to admit, it tasted ten times as good as normal because she made it for me.

My kids are a huge blessing to me. I’ve often apologized for not being able to do more things, for not being able to keep up—but they just tell me, “It’s not your fault you’re sick. We love you.”

SO, this is a blog shout-out to my kids. I know it’s not easy living with a mom who gets worn out unexpectedly, who tells you to take a bath whenever we’ve been out in public (to protect us from germs I can’t fight), who won’t let you go certain places because you might get exposed to things—and most painful, who can’t hug you when you are sick. I know it’s a drag when I can’t run off to the park when it’s pretty out because my energy is already spent by noon. Or play games as often. Or, well, fill in your blank.

I hope you know how much I love and appreciate you both. How blessed I am to have you both in my life. I thank the Lord he gave you to me.

Psalm 173: 3-5 Children are a heritage from the Lord,offspring a reward from him.Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man (woman) whose quiver is full of them. (full text here)

Help!

by | Mar 4, 2012 | Chronic Illness, Encouragement, Expectations, Prayer

I’ve been helping my son clean his room. I have to do this in bits and pieces, because my energy level is in the tank, and if I work for more than an hour or so, I get a raging headache and start to feel sick to my stomach. I can work so long, and then I meet the wall. Meanwhile, we’ve discovered that although his room appeared clean, he’d actually been shoving stuff behind other stuff and cramming things behind other things for quite some time! Anyway, while cleaning, we’ve been putting aside toys he no longer uses or that he’s outgrown. One in particular, a battery operated toy chainsaw, brought up a vivid memory of a time where he tried to help me.

A few years ago, in the middle of a huge windstorm, our fifteen-foot long, twelve-foot high hedge fell over—into the street. It just so happened that my husband was recovering from surgery, and I was unable to uproot it enough to move it out of the way (picture me in a rainstorm in the middle of the street, pulling on a rain soaked hedge). And it had to be moved. So, we called on some friends we knew owned a chainsaw and a truck that could haul it away. We told them how much we needed their help, and they came.

As we were working in the rain, I head a funny noise on the porch. Standing there was my son—age 5—with his very own ‘chainsaw’. He wore his safety goggles and was revving the engine. I almost laughed at the cuteness, but I could see the seriousness in his eyes, so I bit my lip instead. His dad was down, but he, as the other man of the house, was going to do his best to help. I had to explain that his chainsaw wouldn’t quite do the job, but I told him he could help load the branches that were being trimmed down. That satisfied him—but I could see the disappointment in his eyes.

I feel that disappointment some days, too. I have an idea of what I want to do, and how I’m going to do it—I love to help others, I love getting things done. These days, I’m having to learn what I want to do isn’t always what I’m able to do. Talk about frustrating! I never thought I’d be praying for the strength to clean my son’s room. Or praying for patience with myself (from whence my frustration arises!). Or asking God to remind me when I need to take a step back (I’m a push-through kinda gal). There’s a verse that keeps going through my head:

Psalm 121: 1-2 I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. (full text here.)

When your will meets the wall, what do you do?