One of my New Year’s Resolutions is to write a thank you/love note every day. It has become one of my favorite things to do. It helps me find a whole new realm of appreciation and love for those around me.
Well, my thank you/love note for today is to the blog world. I cannot even begin to express how much all the words of support, and love, and wisdom, and understanding flowing over to us concerning Lucy have meant to us. Not only in the sweetest blog comments I have ever read, but in beautifully written e-mails as well. We hold each and every word of support so dear to our hearts, especially at this time. I really don’t even know what to say. A mere “thank you” just doesn’t seem to cut it.
And I’m stressed out because I want so much to reply to everyone who wrote such kind words…man, if people are that nice individually I should at least get back to them. But I don’t think that’s in the cards so PLEASE just know how much all the support and love and prayers mean to us.
It’s interesting because when we first got this diagnosis (almost a month ago) everything felt a little claustrophobic. There were so many thoughts going through our heads. So much worry.
I worry about Dave with his sensitive heart, who wants to always “fix” things that go wrong, and that he can’t really “fix” this.
I worry about our other kids getting the attention they need amidst Lu’s needs.
I worry about all the health issues…all the varying possibilities of what could go wrong.
It makes me nervous when people start talking about the foundation for the blind and braille…classes for young kids to learn to walk with canes, heart and kidney problems associated with this syndrome, the possibility of diabetes…
I worry about the possibility that Lucy may not get to be a wife and a mother some day.
And if she does, I worry about her not being able to see her husband…not being able to see her babies.
It’s interesting though, because time has changed the worry a little bit. When you’re on the outside looking in, all this syndrome talk looks like it’s so overwhelming, too big a burden to bear. All our anticipation and questions and worries loomed so huge in front of us in the beginning. But gradually we’re changing. We’re starting to see the big picture. We’re realizing how blessed we are that it’s as mild as it is. Yes, our lives are going to change. Yes, it will be difficult. Yes, there are heartbreaking times to come…I’m sure of it.
But gradually it’s like we’ve been elevated out of the “maze” of questions a little more each day so that we can see the big picture of where we’re going a little better. Instead of looking at dead ends at every turn, we can start to see what a huge blessing this can be.
My eyes have had their fair share of swimming lately. At first the tears were for Lucy and for our family. For days I was on the verge of tears all day. But gradually, after having a chance to digest the diagnosis, the origin of the tears has changed. Now the tears come when I think about how blessed we are to have Lucy in our family. I get to be her mom. You know how sometimes you’re just so thankful for things you can hardly see straight? Man I love that girl. I love the way her two front teeth look under the curve of her mouth when she smiles. I love to see her eyes glisten right into mine when she’s giving me an Eskimo kiss. I love to hear her belly laughs. I love to watch the older kids give her those belly laughs. I love to watch them try to help her with things. I love to hear them pray for her. And most of all I love to see the look in Dave’s eye when he works with her…so concerned, so full of love.Tears are also coming lately over how thankful I am for the extreme kindness of those around us. I can’t believe how thoughtful everyone is. The things people have shared with us, the love they’ve spilled out and the things they have done for us just make me so emotional. People have gone out of their way to bring us over a treat, or a note, or even a full dinner. It makes me want to be nicer. It makes me want to reach out to others more.
Now sometimes even if I want to fall apart I can’t. I feel too at peace. It’s like there’s this hand holding mine, and lifting me over the hard parts. It makes me know with more surety than ever that there is a God. And that He is good.
And He’s watching over all that we do. No matter what trials we may face in life, no matter how we may not really deserve that guiding, comforting hand at times, He’s still there.
And sometimes, when we’re in the midst of sorrow, He reaches out to us even when we forget to ask.
So, I know things are going to be ok. Not the kind of “ok” we had always envisioned, but the kind of “ok” that is so good…the kind of “ok” where we are all going to learn much more than we ever anticipated and that will give us the potential to become that much stronger and that much better. And we feel like we are being comforted and blessed every step of the way.