Sympathy to Empathy

Normally, I would have considered myself pretty empathetic until now.
Have you ever had one of those moments that you realized that you don't know how people feel?
I have had that harsh reality over the last three days in the hospital. The first 18 hours consisted of nausea and dehydration to the point of my hands atrophying. The second part of my stay had some veins blown out and sore ribs from the experience. Aside from a lot of prayer, my mind really captured a new truth...that I didn't know what my dads have been through.
About three years ago, I held my dad's hand as he got ill after a long hospital stay believing I understood his nausea. I knew what it was like to have a virus, but I didn't know what it was like to repeatedly throw up with no relief, that is what he knew. I also witnessed this same scenario with my other dad (TeePa) watching him receive all the anti-nausea meds in his IV, just like me, with absolutely no relief. Both of these men know cancer. I am thankful that I do not.
I do, however, know firsthand what a true Celiac attack is like now. But more importantly, I now know that empathy is earned by experience and it is humbling.

Under the Influence

Last night I ate "fancy nachos!"
This morning I woke up thinking about decorated doors because it is my dear friend, Allison's birthday.
She has probably been one of the strongest influences in my life over the last few years. Not just because she is a smart cookie, but because she is incredibly contagious. If you know her, you know her presence is not missed if she is in a meeting, at an event or over at your house.
On my birthday she heard that I had never experienced the "decorated birthday door," so I look out and see her mom, her daughter and who knows who else out decorating our french doors in the dining room. I don't think I have ever laughed so hard with shock.
Happy Birthday, Allison! I hope your day is as special as you always make it for everyone else!

Faith, Hope & Love

This morning I was reminded of the goodness that often surrounds us and the blessings we receive every single day that we don't even acknowledge.
I had the privilege of having breakfast with my Aunt Laura and her beautiful, four children from Georgia. All of them have such unique personalities, like thumb prints. Watching the compassion and care they have for each other reminded me of the faith, hope and love that we encounter and get used to until we see it demonstrated under extreme conditions and it is obvious.
Both boys in this picture are suffering from Muscular Dystrophy and unfortunately, Chris, the oldest is declining pretty rapidly...why? Age. As children are thrilled to see a birthday drawing near, he understands the ramifications of the actual event. Less time.
As a mom, you would think that facing such mortality this breakfast would have been a real downer, but oh so not true. It was a satisfying experience and a reminder.
Faith, hope and love...the greatest of these being love.
None of us are guaranteed time, but we are all guaranteed love.
Thank you for your love.

Surgeon Mommy

I have some of the best friends on earth. Smart, talented friends with a lot of compassion for this creative soul who always procrastinates when it comes to her medical needs.
One of those friends performed surgery on me while having me lean over her granite with a baby on her hip today. When the stitches proved to be "unfriendly" she decided to lay the baby down so she could use a fine-tip needle, mind you, in the background is a dog barking for her attention, a toddler expressing his excitement, and of course the phone starts ringing.
Considering that she did bone harvesting and numerous other surgeries pre-kids, I was confident in her ability to stay cool under some serious pressure. She proved valiant, and I left with a sterilized area and a sweet band-aid as a reminder of the momentous occasion.
THANK YOU, Surgeon Mommy Christy, for proving that talent lies just below the surface of the spit up stained badge of honor that drapes across your shoulder!

What?

Summer has come with a bit of medical craziness...
A few tears rolled down the ol' cheek when my pizza and cream filled donuts were taken away by a Celiac diagnosis. A few more tears when I had a biopsy for melanoma. And then the flood gates opened when I gave birth to an elf out of my left ear. Yes, while still housing the stitches from the biopsy.
No worries. I haven't completely gone crazy. I just say "what?" a lot. Not to what I am going through because I think that would be theologically wrong considering Job.
I say, "what?" because I still have a clogged ear and I am on my second anti-biotic.
I believe I promised to make this craziness funny, but the only redeeming funny out of this is the words that I continually misinterpret. "Correct" was once blurted out as "erect" which means I have a seven year old wanting to know how to use it in a sentence. Okay, that is kinda funny.

Aunt Mo

Little fat fingers, puppy dog breath, and an occasional random slap or hit are just a few of the sweet reminders that I am "Aunt Mo" to one of the sweetest boys on earth!
This weekend my sister brought her son, Cole, up for the weekend. Cole is a toddler with a lot of spunk and personality which he comes by honestly. Apparently, in our family it is genetic.
So, this weekend I was reminded of the beautiful moments you have with toddlers.
Two fingers crawling up his arm saying, "Mr. Tickles in coming to get you" made him laugh so hard he choked on his spit.
Intense food focus as he paced back and forth at the pool waiting on his french fries..."mine, mine."
And of course, my favorite...rocking a toddler to sleep. As we rocked back and forth watching Elmo drinking some milk, he would turn and snuggle in brief intervals almost as if to submit to his heavy eyes until finally his little, tired voice said, "Aun Mo..you smell pretty..." and his eyes shut for the final time.
What a gift, to be able to be "Aunt Mo."

Ice Cream

Your love is better than ice cream....

better than any thing else that I've tried...

the Journey

Okay, so it looks like June may continue to be a tribute to the awesomeness of fatherhood.
I found this picture from our family trip to Mexico and was reminded of what a special time that was for me as my dad's daughter.
The literal picture here is my dad walking my daughter down a narrow walk way after a long day at the beach and him answering a million three-year old questions.
He was so patient to answer all of them, some silly ones and some not so silly.
Now, this picture symbolizes a journey once taken with a man I was so blessed to call my dad and that he tried to continue with my daughter until he was no longer able.
As the path shows more pavement behind than ahead, I am reminded of how quickly his path ended.
So I re-trace the steps of the journey and attempt to duplicate them in hopes that Eden will not miss out on the journey of creativity, joy, and hope that was given to me.
Doesn't this sound like our relationship with our Father, Creator?
We keep re-tracing the steps of those who have had a journey before us with Him in hopes of not missing out.
I am thankful for the journey...even more thankful that I have not been left without a picture of the journey.

June -- Father's Day Reminders

The month of June always reminds me of how much I miss my dad. The two of us could talk on the phone for hours. If we would have been taped you'd thought it was a philosophy class lecture being prepared.
Some of the most practical advice I ever received was from my dad.
Once when I was in college I got sick of the "institution" and decided I was going to quit and find my own way to be successful. Since he had been a hippie, musician all his life I felt confident I would have his approval on this one, but boy was I wrong. His words still ring in my ears.
"Monica, the world works like this...you either make money "reacting" to other people to pay your way or you provide the "action" to pay your own way. If you quit college you will always be a "reactor," but if you finish your degree you might get the chance to actually create the "action.""
Sure I cried and disagreed at first, but it sunk in and I took the advice.
Now, I am creating the action and thankful for the man who sometimes pointed out things I wasn't always looking for but needed.
Happy Father's Day, Dad.