Tuesday's Tidbits

I had a lady flag me down in the grocery store parking lot yesterday afternoon to tell me that I had a price tag sticking out of my shirt. I found it both mortifying and extremely humorous.

Despite the fact that the school handbook clearly states that the kids can wear uniform shorts after April 1 and my promise that he would not be breaking any rules, Camden refused to wear shorts yesterday because he wanted to make sure other kids were wearing them first. They were, of course, and I sent him off in shorts today.

I don't know why I forget this every year, but Tennessee skips spring and moves right on in to summer-like weather. Case in point: the high on Thursday was 39 degrees and pouring down rain. Yesterday it was 81 degrees.

For only the second time in our marriage (that I can remember), Brian's alarm didn't go off this morning which means that I had to jump out of bed and move directly into mommy mode. There is a reason why I get up an hour early every day . . . so I don't have to jump out of bed and move directly into mommy mode.

Anyone have advice on little ears? Rory had her ears pierced almost 8 weeks ago, and I changed them one time after the appropriate waiting period. They immediately became infected, and have stayed that way. It's not serious, just a little infection. I put the original earrings back in after one day. Do you think I just need to continue with the 3-times-a-day cleaning and hope they clear up?

I have no funny kid stories today. It's not that there weren't funny kid stories this week, I just didn't write any of them down. And chemo brain is still alive and well, which means I can't remember them.

No news on my scan. My nerves are starting to fray a bit, which is why this post spoke to me. Loudly.  Specifically, this part, but go read the post in its entirety.

"God is here, and I feel him close and real these days. But also, still, there is this hole. There is the empty space where a baby should have been. And I feel that too, tender and sharp.

I know it will get better with time – these things always do. But also, I know that this world is cracked through. The people who are supposed to love us best fail us in the worst possible ways. The pregnancy doesn’t take, or the baby is gone before you can hold him. The lump is malignant. The crash is fatal. Over and over again, people keep leaving before we’re ready for them to go.

We are, all of us, punched through with holes, living with a little bit more emptiness every year. And it’s possible to be filled with the Spirit and still feel the void.

It’s true that God is the best kind of Father. And also, the absence of your flesh-and-blood Dad matters. There is the way things should be and the way they are, and between them, there are a hundred thousand hollows, echoing with emptiness.

We are not a complete puzzle, missing one crucial piece. We are riddled with holes, waterlogged, going down.

God is not some perfectly shaped stopper, meant to keep a sinking ship afloat. He is something else entirely – a life boat, a raft. The Rock that we cling to when the whole thing is going to hell.

And I think that in order to find wholeness, we have to learn to tell the truth about our emptiness."