Sermons in Stones: January 2011

It's been a long time since I typed anything on a real keyboard. At a desk and everything. See, our computer died many months ago, and we've yet to replace it. We don't miss it that much, since we have our smart phones, but tax season is upon us and I've got pictures and receipts to organize and so on, so it would be nice to have a full-blown PC. We had graciously been granted the use of Chris' mom's laptop for a while, but when we got them a wireless router, it was time to return it. However, Chris' aunt had an old PC that they weren't using any more and brought it over a few weeks ago. It sat through the busy-ness of getting back to school and snow days and working multiple jobs, but one afternoon last week, I tried to turn it on. It powered up, but, for some reason, I couldn't get a keyboard to work with it. After trying for quite a while, frustrated, I asked Chris to look at it. Later that night, he turned it off and turned it back on (why didn't I think of that? computer troubleshooting 101!), and just like that the keyboard worked. Only, he didn't tell me about it until I asked a few days later. Today, I sat down to do something on it, but then there were updates and new programs to install and a new user account to configure, and just when I finally got this borrowed computer really up and running, it's now just about time to go get the kids. Ah, such is life.

In general, though, life is good. Ella's doing awesome in her new big girl class at school. They tell me she is very laid back and agreeable there; I guess she must store up all her fits for when she's with her momma :). Cooper has really come into his own personality. While much of his third year has been all about himself, lately we've seen a real sense of empathy developing in him. It is very endearing. He now says unprompted things like, "Mom, I like your house," and kisses my boo-boos and tells me he's sorry about them, even when they are not his fault. Jackson seems to be thriving in the structured environment of kindergarten. He scored E's in math (again) and language (for the first time) on his report card and continued to be satisfactory in music and PE. He tries to read every written word he encounters on signs or on the TV, and he is blowing me away with how quickly it has come to him.

We've managed through the hectic schedules of three different schools and four jobs between the two adults (three of them mine) to be more regular attendees at our church for the past couple months, which has been good for everyone; the kids now expect to go to church every Sunday and know other children in their classes. I've begun to do a little more volunteering in my free time. I am trying to be purposeful in choosing activities that fit my passions while not overextending myself in the process; it is proving difficult to find that balance, as you might imagine. I want to be involved in a work with a local impact and separately in something with a global outreach, but I think I am getting closer to figuring out what that might look like.

And with that, I'm off to get the kiddos. I hope the new year is treating you well. Until next time!

♦

Tomorrow, Ella Claire, you will be two years old. Two! In many ways, it does not seem like that much time has passed. In others, whole lifetimes have been lived.

You are thriving, baby girl. (Even though you are almost 2, I am not ready to give up this nickname for you yet. I may even take a page out of your Grandma Mildred's playbook and call you that right up until you have children of your own, as she did with me.) You amaze me with all of your progress. I think about where you were even a year ago, and I am nearly overcome with emotion. And just a short time before that, we were a family on the brink as we tried to wrap our brains around diagnoses we'd never heard of before and potential outcomes we never asked for, while you were swallowed up by the seizure monster.

Now, just look at ya! Walking, talking, interacting with us--seizures now 18 months gone (though still one thought away for me). It's better than we could have ever imagined. We are so grateful to God for bringing us through. We will never forget where we have been and our friends who are still battling, all the while acknowledging that we aren't guaranteed tomorrow. We will never stop fighting and advocating for children with epilepsy, in your honor. This is your legacy, sweetheart. You have made us better parents, more appreciative of even the small things, taking nothing for granted, enjoying the moments we're given.