grace

The brink of what? You decide.

1. Sunday night: figured out that the kid who was maybe-sick was really-sick. Canceled Monday plans.

2. Monday morning: took six-year-old to sick bay because we suspected strep, ran to pharmacy to get the antibiotics because, though her throat was very streppy-looking, the quick test came back negative. Despite her being sick, still finished manuscript as I had planned (though it took a far different commitment of time than what I had planned).

3. Tuesday: kept fevered child home from school, noted that three-year-old was acting symptomatic. Finished parish bulletin draft, submitted manuscript to publisher, drank a lot of tea, kept a remnant of sanity and laughed more than I expected to.

4. Tuesday night: three-year-old up multiple times for potty breaks; baby up multiple times for company and eating and coughing.

5. Wednesday, sometime before 6 AM: “Mommy, I want to get up now.” (How can the three-year-old be awake? Can’t she time it with the baby?) I invite her to my bed, because it seemed like a good idea at the time. Six-year-old, ever suspicious of anyone else being awake when she is not, comes in and asks if we can go downstairs. “No! Lay down on Daddy’s side!” (This is a treat. I am territorial about my bed. I don’t judge those of you who share your beds with your kids; I just don’t. Sleep is not optional in my house: sharing my bed usually means I don’t get sleep. And this time, that’s exactly what happened.)

6. Wednesday, 6:15 AM: Baby does his little “I’m going to wake up now” cough. I begin extracting myself from bed. Girls jump up. Coughing begins all around me. I wonder if I should strip beds or just call it good.

7. No, I’m not going to give you the play-by-play of the rest of the week. I just want to point out that at 6:20 AM on Wednesday, I had no idea that by noon, I’d be thanking God for the day. I had no idea that at 12:52 PM, I’d be in my van, saying an out-loud thank you prayer to God. I had a chance to run errands that, while not critical, did allow me to get out of the house (without the kids!). And then, later in the day, I had niece visitors who amused the girls, rocked the baby, and allowed me some laptop time. God may not micromanage, but he has a plan. And it’s WAY better than mine.

You’ll find other lists of seven (in the form of Quick Takes) over at Conversion Diary today.

Grace in the Midst of Trial

Today’s the day of my brother-in-law’s funeral in New Orleans.

We’re not there. We can’t be there for very strange reasons.

Today’s also the day of our five-year-old’s EEG, at 3 PM.

Any accident that’s the Mercy Hour? No, I don’t think so either. She seems perfectly back to normal after the big adventure from the other night.

All the same, my heart is in New Orleans, with family members I have been missing for years and who I long to hold.

We’ll have a chance to hug them soon, because the body is coming to Ohio early next week and there’s an interment, so he can be buried with his boys.

We have a few days before we’ll see them, before we can share the grief and gather around them and be family in person. Before then, my husband’s face is going to haunt me, tug at me, remind me of many, many things.

Yesterday afternoon, he talked to Susie for the first time since this happened. I couldn’t ask him what she said to him until four or five hours later, when the kids were in bed. We both needed time to calm down, to breathe.

I’ve seen my husband cry twice before that moment. I’ve never seen him cry hard or come close to sobbing. I’m sure he has, but not in front of anyone, even me.

Susie told Bob some beautiful things yesterday afternoon. It was a moment of grace for me, watching his face, hearing his responses, seeing his emotion, feeling his pain.

“I love you, honey,” he said to her, choking a bit on his tears, before he hung up.

All day yesterday, from the moment Lisa posted a request for prayers on her Facebook wall and continuing as I updated both on my blog and social networks, the comments and emails have rolled in, offering support and prayers and wisdom. When Rebecca posted a prayer request last night, my site flooded with traffic, which included comments, prayers, support, and wisdom.

I joked with someone yesterday that I’m not a big fan of 2010 so far. Maybe I need to rethink that.

There has been a mountain of pain and there’s more to come, of that I’m sure.

But in that pain, I’m finding grace unlike any I’ve ever experienced before. I’m learning about things I had never considered and I’m growing closer to Mother Mary, knowing she walked this way first. She feels our pain. She knows our grief. She sees our fear.

And though I may wonder, question, seek…she’s still there. So is her Son.

Sometimes, the greatest gift is the presence of others. Sometimes, carrying our crosses, we just need presence. I am feeling God through all of you and in the daily hurdles of my children and the family members still here in Ohio. Thank you for that.

Thank you too for your continued prayers for all of us. You’re making these unbelievable moments of grace possible. For that, we are all so very, very blessed.