One Breath at a Time

So here I am Lord, Lydia and Luke are off to school for their second day, Andrew is still asleep and will soon get up for online classes, and I, am breathing…just breathing.

I feel almost guilty for being alone with my thoughts.  I’d planned on keeping Lydia home 2-3 years in home school.  But I was exhausted, mom and dad need me at their house more and more, and I have felt trapped and hopeless. I guess there comes a time that sacrificing one’s self is not so noble and gallant as it is stupid. I can’t do it all, and no one ever asked me to.  No one except that annoying little critical voice in my brain that nags at me like a relentless, invisible nat buzzing in my ear.

Sooo, knowing mom’s deteriorating health, and dad’s increasing needs looming on the horizon, I was prompted to juggle priorities again and encourage Lydia to return to school.  With the help of her sweet brother Luke, she decided it would be a good thing.  I've struggled with the guilt of not being “enough” to do it all.  But the problem is “all” is a bottomless pit and my endurance is not.  So, with a mixture of sadness and relief, I’ve sent my sweet Sassy back to public school. 

She loved her first day, and so did Luke.  What a relief for me!  That doesn’t mean I’m a failure though as a home school mom.  It just means we’ve had a year of bonding and loving each other and trust building that I wouldn’t have been able to experience with her if we’d not pulled her out last year.  That is priceless!!  Now if I can just finish her memory book before this next year is over.

I sense a push of some sorts to not miss out on time with my parents. Its like Holy Spirit is letting me know time is short. We’ve been working on lots of legal things to get “affairs in order” so that Tommy and I will have an easier time when they pass on.  It’s a sobering thing to have to sit and discuss with your parents for weeks on end, but it is a part of life.  And theirs is winding down.  I won’t be sorry or have any regrets though. 

Yesterday I called to talk to mom, and daddy answered the phone.  His speech has become more garbled and if he isn’t begging to lay down out of exhaustion, he is begging to get up because he is in pain, all over.  Yet when I asked how he was today, he says, “Oh, I’m doing ok considering…”  What a trooper, my dad.  He’s always clung to life with such fervor and enthusiasm, despite the paralysis, tubes, colostomy and bags...  Yet he usually responds to my “how are you” question with something fairly positive before asking how I am doing.  You gotta love His attitude. 

This year I want to be intentional to savor each moment, conversation, crisis, complaint, every smile, hug, and encouraging word as though it were the last.  Because one day it will be.  One day I will feel the pull to call Mother to check on her and ramble on about all the latest with the kids.  One day I will feel depressed and need to hear her unconditional reassurance of how special and loved I am.  But one day I will have to remember that she is not on the other end of the phone, or the other side of that old unleveled front door.   I’ll have a life time, though, of “gosh I’m so glad I did….”  I'll have a heart full of memories and love stored up for the empty times when I can’t feel her physical presence or hear her sweet voice.   

As my favorite author Nika Maples just reminded me in a blog post “A Time for Every Purpose: Why I Am Not TeachingThis Year”, I can’t do it all.  But right now I can do this. I can worship and love God with everything that I am. I can love, care for, and savor this time with my parents. I can release Lydia back out into the public school world.  I can enjoy this last year with Andrew at home. And I can, without guilt, be good to myself, taking time to just breath.