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Learning To Live
Five years ago this week I lost a friend. The word friend doesn’t seem to even adequately describe her because she was so much more. Emily changed my life.
I met her during a very dark period in my life since I was just diagnosed as being chronically ill and I was so bitter at the prospect of being in constant pain for the rest of my life. I was grieving since my plans were upended and life wasn’t going to be what I thought. We ended up in the same dorm at college and instantly, I thought she was one of the sweetest and brightest people I’d ever met.
And then I found out she had cystic fibrosis.
I adore my three-year old. Jackson is hilarious, loving, and preciously protective of his siblings. He is still three, though, and doesn’t like going to bed.
He really doesn’t like being put to bed for the eighth time (per evening, and all of these times in the course of writing this post) and spontaneously appears around the house several hours after bedtime has commenced. I’m considering making a suit of pajamas out of Velcro and constructing special Velcro sheets to match: he is officially a night person.
Thankfulness has been weighing heavily on my mind lately given everything we’ve been going through with our serious car accident, my health, and our foster daughter. With Thanksgiving this week, the topic has been on most people’s minds too though probably in a different way from mine.
When I was a kid, my siblings and I would sit in deep discussion about the things that we would save if our house were to ever be on fire. As we got older, the things we believed we couldn’t live without changed. My attachment to my stuffed animals faded and gave way to my guitar and later my kids claimed the coveted spot on my priority list.
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Last week was a really hard week as we’ve been recovering slowly from the accident last Saturday. It’s made me appreciate the gift of each day and want to make the most of all the time that we are given.
In light of all this, I wanted to share a quote by one of my heroes:
I’m usually quite a planner. If I have an idea of where stuff is going, I’m okay. But, throw me in a situation where anything could happen… well… let’s just say I’ve been known to dissolve into a useless puddle of tears and indecision.
We had an incident this week that involved an attempt to throw a five-pound hand weight up to the top bunk bed. I now have one very remorseful son with bad aim and another extremely forgiving son with a broken foot. To be completely honest, I am actually surprised that we’ve made it this long before having a broken bone. Having three boys means injuries are par for the course.