A Departure...

So this past week has been trying. Lace is in Africa, doing good things. We are here. Middle of America. Trips are no different; nothing new. 2, 3 day trips are the norm. They work for us. We need those trips. We need breaks from each other, our personalities dictate that.

This is different.

Lace is half a world away, in a third world country with a population that isn't, *ahem*, fond, of Americans. She is being welcomed by villagers, but in the city, as an American, as a woman, as a Christian, I know she is being targeted, derided, or maybe even worse, completely dismissed.
She is there to HELP. No agenda, other than to help growth of agricultural knowledge, sustainability. Yet, she has escorts, protection. She wants to help make them better farmers, help them feed themselves, help them long term. That doesn't matter. The people in the villages are receptiver; the people planning the next coup, the next overthrow, the next governmental change only see her as a threat.

Its a matter of philosophy, of outlook, of hope, of power, and of course, of religion.

The girls--our girls--don't understand all that. They just see Mom as a hero, as a model of how the world should be. They are right to do so. They are also naive. They are kids. They miss her. At the basest level, they know she is helping kids, people 27 flight hours away; 9 hours time difference. They know her heart for help.

But they miss her. They are kids. And they know that there are 7 more of these the next 2 years. They know that there will be misses, gaps, needs.

A 13 year old, turning 14. enduring changes and middle school strife. Starting Track & Field. Not fitting in. Awkward. Not wanting to talk to anybody, least of all her step-dad, then needing her mom; resorting to her grandmother, her Nonni.
A 7 year year old, so fiercely independent, so aggressively against all rules...until she realizes how far away Mom is. Then wanting to talk so bad, she breaks down crying because she can't even bear to do so.
A handicapped 5 year old who gets affected by a loud word, a loud noise that isn't from her own throat. Not knowing how to communicate, not possessing the capabilities, but knowing that when she talks to Mom, she isn't close.
A Dad, struggling to provide the answers, coming up woefully short, feeling strung out. Needing to provide, to sustain, and losing on all fronts. The teenager doesn't talk. The 7 year old revolts. The 5 year old just plain struggles.

But then the teen offers help from nowhere. The 7 year old gets lovey, gives hugs. The baby, shows increased understanding. They know that Dad is struggling too. They seem to see through all the other stuff, that Dad needs help too.
Its not consistent. It doesn't fix everything, but, it bridges the gap. It carries the moment. it helps.

Maybe, just possibly, perhaps, we're doing something right; some words we say get through. Some lessons stick.

There is a husband. Struggling. Lonely. Longing. Feeling so far away from the one they long to be close to. Praying for safety. Praying for good works to be done. Praying for a safe return. For however long that is. A day. Two. Hoping. Questioning. Wondering.
These aren't easy circumstances, they are, by far, not the worst. There are many others in similar, and crazier, more dangerous, more perilous situations.

But they aren't me. I'm not them. I can't relate, nor can they
.
I'm thankful for those around me checking in, stopping by, praying. Small towns are the best in these times. It means more than I can even begin to describe.

I hope when I pray, it is felt that way also:
By the wives whose husbands are away, defending our country, defending our way of life, working 80 weeks; providing for their families.
By the husbands, like myself, who are learning how valuable our mothers, grandmothers were--who didn't have a chance to work other than to stay at home.
By the single parents, who work multiple jobs, missing events, looking ahead to a future where they can be present, hoping it wont be too late.

We are all in this together, and I, for one, am so thankful for the people in my life, the people who make these rough times somehow easier, more bearable. You know who you are, and you are loved, and in turn prayed for and cared for and will be blessed for all you do.

Thank you...

C

Vent

I sit here in a quiet house, 2 kids asleep. Sounds like a parents dream right? The major problem with this one is that its missing one kid and its more like a recurring nightmare. Another night of hospitalization for a 16 month old who has spent so much time escaping those hollow, disinfectant smelling hallways, and another night of worry for us.

On the surface, this one would seem to be the most minor of her issues, but if you look deeper, it is nearly as troubling.

• She was almost hospitalized twice last year with pneumonia.
• She has had breathing issues from the beginning of her 7 week early entrance to this world.
• Her body weight and size are no help in the matter as they have never had a real chance to catch up.
• Her immune system as a whole is weaker than the rest due to incubator time, birth weight, medical issues and so forth.

To make matters worse, we are still trying to figure out the Health System here. It would have been nice to have a better understanding before things started to go haywire. Or to have family, friends, and neighbors to support us or help out in these circumstances. I guess no matter where we are, it will always be a shock, but another country and Doctors and practices and procedures is, in my mind, a little more than what we might experience in the U.S. if, say, one of her Doc's was on vacation and we had to deal with some one new.


She is a trooper and I am not in any way attempting to over-dramatize this instance. More to the point, I am trying to rationalize and get a clear picture of what the rest of her life/our lives are going to look like. We try not to live in fear of scary words such as "shunt failure," "seizure," "stroke," "developmental delay," and "pneumonia," but I am beginning to wonder if we are truly taking it day by day and trying to be positive, or are we deluding ourselves in fear of seeing the real story. Should we instead prepare for our lives to be tossed into a washing machine once, twice, three times a year?
 
On top of it all, these other two little girls, are having to deal with Real World issues far too soon. As a parent you'd like to be able to shelter your kids and protect them from the ugliness of the world around them. Rian had her second birthday interrupted by an early preganancy and has, unfortunately, had too much attention taken away from her too soon. We both agree that this may be one reason for the--shall we call it rambunctiousness--that she possesses. And poor Baylie. Today, while at school, the mother of one of her classmates died suddenly. By the end of the day, they found out it was a stroke. Baylie doesn't say or show much, but surely these things affect her. I hope, over time, she realizes the need to talk about these issues as opposed to bottling them up. Lord knows, that tactic never worked for me.
 
So...anyone reading this. If you haven't already, or even if you have, it won't kill you, say a prayer for us. All of us. I know that I am blessed to have a wonderful family, both near and far. Thank you for all of your thoughts, and your notes and well-wishes.
 
C