Dear Mom,
I was going to wait until Christmas to share the information I found out yesterday...
I'm an "ideal match" to be your transplant donor! But after thinking it over more, I felt silly for even considering not telling you right away... because now we have 5 more days to process the amazing and hope-filled news... it would've been selfish to hold it in. And it's not a gift anyway... you're my Mom and I'd do anything I could for you (as I know without a doubt my older sisters would as well--given the opportunity).
Also, in other news... now I know for a fact that I wasn't adopted.
So 😝, Jenn and Tristina... all of those lies you told me as a kid have been brought to light!
I know the truth!
[*Please continue to keep the entire process in your prayers... there are still hurdles to leap and obstacles to climb (including an extensive and lengthy health evaluation in Philadelphia in January), but we have faith that it'll all work out the way it needs to.*]
#praiseGod
Dear God,
I really needed that today and I didn't even know...
---
Have you ever gotten stuck in your own jacket? ...as a grown 'adult,' I mean.
The zipper ate the little side edge of fabric on my puffy coat and refused to give it up. Or even budge. I couldn't wiggle out of it either. I had a thick hoodie on underneath that was preventing alternate means of escape.
After about 3 or 4 minutes struggling with the toggle, I gave in and sat down in the warm house in my extra-toasty layers feeling like a rotisserie. And then a thought occurred to me.
I started to giggle... God must've known how badly I needed a hug today and sent it to me in the form of a stubborn jacket.
...and then, wouldn't you know it... it unzipped.
Thanks. ❤
Sincerely,
this slightly over-salty rotisserie
Dear diary,
I’m having tea and rice cakes with a mouse this morning to an episode of Downton Abbey. This isn’t at all how I thought I’d be starting my day; nor do I have any complaints.
I was running late…missed my alarm. Machaela tried waking me up before 6—a role reversal of sorts, but she’s an early riser. After what felt like only a few moments, my eyes opened and focused in on the digits of the clock…
7:12. 4 missed calls. Oops.
I jolted upright, had a few seconds of irrational panic, and spent the rest of the morning over-compensating for my tardiness. It was all a blur of limbs reaching for cereal boxes, putting the milk away, gently tugging on strands of hair to make braids for one daughter while the other just wanted hers to be brushed… water bottles… making sure they didn’t forget to wear pants (every child’s nightmare)… shoes… vitamins… *time check*… Oh! Feeding the dogs! I almost forgot!
It was two minutes past when we usually leave to head down for the bus. I was walking into the utility room for some kibble when I saw it. Our eyes met. It didn’t even run. I’d like to think that it identified a morsel of compassion through the windows to my soul. It might have even smiled—but probably not—in my mind though, when I think back… there was the hint of a smile.
I knew my Dad had snap traps set all over the house because there’s been a mouse at large (or small—as it were) … and just the thought of the little creature meeting its demise before it was old and grey-er… I knew I had to act fast. I quickly glanced around for something I could use… an empty plastic jug… perfect! Mind you, it was now 4 minutes past when the girls and I were supposed to leave, so I frantically spammed the unlock button on the key fob while unscrewing the lid of the jug with my other hand—cradling it for stability with my elbow. “Girls, get in the car—I’ll be right out!”
I caught the mouse. But didn’t have time to do anything with it. Or to even figure out step 2.
And then, I remembered that I forgot to get their snacks ready for the day… (or rather, my Mom reminded me as I was rushing out the door). So I grabbed the jug of mouse, 2 sandwich bags, and a stack of rice cakes… I’d assemble them in the car.
My plan was to release my new beady-eyed friend into the wild down at the bus stop. But it was cold. And I remembered my favorite cartoon growing up…"An American Tail”… and the song “Somewhere Out There” crept out from the confines of my innermost psyche… but we were thankfully on time for the bus. I quickly put together the girls’ snack bags for school as the bus was rolling into view and handed one off to each, blowing kisses and giving thumbs-ups to reinforce the tone of a great day ahead.
I waved the “I love you” sign as the bus pulled away—children safely in tow… and then waved to the curly-haired woman who always parks in front of me…I’m pretty sure she thinks the “I love you”s are for her because she always waves to me before she drives off. I don’t mind. Everyone deserves to feel loved. Or waved at. Or both.
But there was still the matter of little Fievel Mousekewitz…
I shuddered at the thought of him shivering in the cold… his tiny little heart beating extra fast to try to compensate the warmth… so we drove back to the house together… I, vowing to let him loose outside during the warmer part of the day so he has some time to go house hunting before the chill bites back.
…which brings us to now. Rice cake tidbits, tea, and Norah Jones sing-alongs. It looks like I found myself a little manuscript buddy today and he found a new lease on life [and is now using some of the cotton balls and napkins I gave him to make a mouse-sized pillow fort].
Sincerely,
me.
***before anyone gets on me about feeding a mouse rice cakes… rest assured… they were gluten-freeand little Fievel was released back into the wild the same day... after it warmed up a little bit.***
I learned a very important lesson from my 5-year-old daughter this morning as we waited for the bus.
She handed me a string bracelet that she had made. It had one purple strand, one pink strand, and was held together by a single folded-up piece of clear tape (it even had a few dust-fuzzies stuck on the adhesive). The beads she had chosen for the special gift spelled out: “B” “O” “X”—except the “B” was going the wrong way…endearing kindergarten style.
She smiled proudly when she handed it to me, and said, “Mommy, I made this for you!”
“Oooh! It says, ‘box’… is this because of all of the unpacking we’ve been doing lately?”
She paused, looked at me as though I was missing the point completely, and corrected me with, “No. That’s not what it means. It’s ‘be hugs and kisses’ because you always try to make people feel better.”
[Thankfully, she hasn't witnessed the times when my words have been hurtful to others too... that's not to say they don't exist.]
My eyes filled with tears as the bus drove away. It astounds me how children say fleetingly simple things with such an echoingly profound figurative truth… and they don’t even realize it.
“Be hugs and kisses…”
It’s easy to go through the day gathering grudges to hold onto indefinitely.
With our words alone, we are often quick to be insult, to be scrutiny, to be reprimand, or to be bitterness.
Society judges relentlessly already.
We’re all fighting battles of varying degrees. Sometimes, even though it’s easier to get upset or to lash out—we could change someone else’s day just by offering kindness instead… a smile… some understanding… or patience… by letting the things we say ‘be hugs and kisses’ instead of cuts and bruises (myself included).
Kaleidoscopic Grace 