One Of Those Mornings

I woke up this morning and could hear the pitter patter of raindrops gently grazing the bedroom window. I was up before anyone else, including the sun. I quietly went into the bathroom to soak in the silence of a warm bath before the day started.

Scott got up before I was done and by the time I was lounging on the bed again, I had a spectacular view of the changing sky. My window glowed with a deep cerulean. As amazing as the color, it was the glow that was captivating. It changed from the deep blue to a light blue and then finally to a whited-out blue of an overcast sky. Changing the colors of the grass and brick wall to seem unreal in depth and clarity. All the while glowing through my 24 panes.

Warm, comforting smells came from the kitchen. Scott made sausage and cheesy eggs for breakfast then wrapped it up in a warm tortilla topped with salsa. It was a breakfast that brought memories of home and comfort and peace in the tangy, soothing bites. A breakfast that wasn't asked for or wheedled but done in independent love for the family.

Voices were muted and sweet conversation could be heard from each of my four beloved throughout the house. All were in communion together in jokes and business. There was no rush and each helped out. Periodically I would ask a question of the kids about school preparation, and all would answer it had been taken care of.

As I lay there, unable to help while I continue to let my foot heal, I wrapped myself up in the blanket tight and whispered to myself, "Remember this."

Remember the sweetness of each little drop of this morning memory. Remember and look at it again and again. Remember that for one brief moment, the world was turned away and we resided in a blissful unit, filled with warm love and humor.

Remember that as beautiful as the glow from my window and all the otherworldly looking colors it provided, it paled in comparison to the magnificence of our family.

This has been one of those mornings. A morning that feels like God is wrapping you up in His arms and cradling you in peace and security. Giving you respite from the world and strength to go on.

It has been a blissful morning.

What a Way to Start April!

Have you ever recognized that little mishaps occur at the most inopportune moments? It seems like whenever a hiccup takes place, you have neither the time nor place for coping with them. This was my thinking on Saturday. That's when it dawned on me, it would only be a mishap, or hiccup or whatever you tend to call it, if it wasn't convenient and brought about much additional stress, hardship and worry.

So let me tell you about the most current one.

Saturday afternoon, Scott and I were unloading the car of groceries. I was heading back toward the trunk when there was a loud POP followed by immense pain as I fell to the ground. There was also a not-so-lovely scream that turns out came from my own lovely mouth. As I hit the pavement, I bellowed (Yes, it's true. I bellowed, not whimpered or simpered or politely called. It was a full fledge manly bellow that erupted from this dainty, feminine person. I give you permission to chuckle at this point.) for Scott. Of course, Scott must have put in his selective hear-aid that day because it was Landon that came running and not Scott.

At this point, I'm still on the ground moaning in pain with plenty of near-curse words going through my head that not a single neighborly soul has rushed to see if I am going to survive. I grunt to Landon to get Dad out there quick and he scurries away. I have yet to look at the damage. I know that if it's as bad as it feels, I may not be able to remain conscious if I see the bone sticking out of my leg or my foot awkwardly twisted in the opposite direction it should be pointed in.

Scott comes right out and asks in his manly fashion, "Are you ok?"

Now, let me preface this by explaining for a moment. If you or I, as women (If you are reading this and are not a woman, it's because you are member of my family, your wife is making you read this, or you are a stalker. The first two categories - I give you my sincerest apologies for the generalization. If you are of the third category - VAMOOS!) saw a grown, appearing to be in her right mind, woman on the ground, my first question wouldn't be if you were ok. It's plenty obvious that if you haven't been able to get yourself up in multiple people visits (Scott's being the second) then you are definitely NOT ok!

So in a very lady-like shriek, I said, "NO!"

Now normally, in this particular marriage, I am the over-reacter and Scott is the calm, rational one, when it comes to things like this. But as I looked at his face, my heart fell. I quickly averted my eyes and, believe it or not, meekly asked if he could see the bone sticking out.

He said no but that he needed to help me get up so we could go to the hospital. His answer both assured me that I wasn't going to bleed to death because the bone had severed an artery as it punctured my dermis, but at the same time, freaked me out because he immediately wanted to go to the hospital. Do you know how expensive hospital visits are?!?!? We had to go in January for just 2 hours and they never could figure out the problem and those two hours cost us over $9,000.00. That's right, you did not read that wrong! And there was no major surgery or anything to cost us that much. It was some pee tests, a couple tubes of blood, some Ibuprofen, and a donut ring scan - that all came back with a big question mark. And now he wants to do it all over again!

So I allow him to help me into a sitting position. I see for myself that all body parts are where they should be and like the mature person I am, grabbed my shoes that had come off and threw them at the car - because I'm sure the car had some element of responsibility in all of this! OK, so maybe it's more likely the shoes were more culpable than the car, but the shoes are cute and they got just as much beating as the car when I threw them.

Now here is where it gets pathetic.

I'm not exactly 19 anymore and weighing 120 lbs. Scott is more than willing to carry me into the house, (I've been able to make him see reason about waiting until Monday to see a doctor when the bill will be more manageable) but I need him in one piece. I quiet possibly would break my eternal sweetheart should he attempt to carry me. Also, I'm afraid of falling backwards. So I begin to hop toward the house.

I know you are all thinking, "Well, that's appropriate as the next day is Easter." But believe me when I say, I am no bunny rabbit bringing beautiful eggs and goodies to children just at this particular moment. The only thing I might be bringing is horrified looks and fear from anyone close enough to hear the grunts and see the sweat.

Honestly, those near-curse words are still running rampant through my head but I was in no mood to tame them. Frankly, I was impressed with myself for keeping them inside my head. So the journey to my bed is long and tortuous, with multiple stops - to start breathing again.

It's once I'm on the bed that I realize how inopportune a time it was for this to happen. I HAVE to go to church the next morning. I'm playing for multiple things - the organ for our organist who just had a baby, and two special musical numbers. I need to help with bunny duty - that's code for doing it all alone. And don't forget the all important Easter Dinner! So we begin to brainstorm on who we know that might have a set of crutches - the answer to all our problems. RIGHT!

So I make the call and secure the use of my life-line.

Scott takes over bunny duty - a first in our marriage as far as I can remember. And he takes better care of me than I thought possible.

The next morning, the kids have a wonderful hunt (Colbey dozed on the couch during the fabulous Safari. Even the eggs with money in them could not entice him this year.) and we all prepared to go to church.

I'm pretty excited to have the crutches and be mobile again - for the first 3 minutes. Then I realize, crutches SUCK (Sorry for the near-curse word, I couldn't keep it in.) when you HAVE to use them, whereas, they are great fun when you are just playing. At this moment, I am nursing not only a seriously painful foot, but shoulder muscles that may never have been used before and interior muscles from the inside of my biceps to near mid belly that are screaming.

I managed through church but got home exhausted! Scott took care of dinner - minus the funeral potatoes that I hopped and took care of (I love them, but Scott could care less about them so they were about to fall off of the menu.). Scott makes a fabulous ham!! I've known this for a while. He has always been better at meat than me. And we ate family-style in the family room. Now, mom, don't have a heart-attack that I've broken the family tradition of bringing out the crystal and china and having a palace type experience. It's just that I was having issues getting into anyplace easily and it won't ever happen again! I PROMISE!

So the evening passes with me in my recliner and everyone else coming and going. This is not a typical Easter! I actually slept in the recliner. For two big reasons and one misunderstanding.

Wouldn't you know it, in the midst of all this, our A/C goes out. It won't work. We can't figure it out and will have to call in the professionals eventually when we can't handle the heat anymore. Lucky for us, the temperature is supposed to drop this week. So the windows were open and the ceiling fans on full blast and the family room was actually more comfortable temperature wise than the bedroom. Also, it was safer for my foot not to be in the same bed as someone else. (What?!?!? That's right folks, we don't have the Desi and Lucy set up of two beds in our room. GASP! It's a shocker - I know. And now my mom knows, how humiliating!) And the misunderstanding was a condition of Scott seeing me hopping around (to get to the bathroom) and said, "Why are you here (in the bedroom)? The fans are in the other room." kind of snippy-like. I thought he was mad at me for him having to pick up so many extra duties this weekend and didn't want me in the bedroom. He was actually concerned that I was hopping around and just sleepy and didn't realizing what tone he was using. That's right, we are GREAT communicators! : )

So this morning, I call the doctor’s office at exactly 8am. I know they have special slots they leave open for emergency, must-be-seen-today visits, but I wanted to be first in line. Turns out, I'm put on hold for 15 minutes and then the girls (who I find out later has had several complaints about her and is only 18) tells me that my Doctor doesn't have any openings until next week.

Just as sweetly as you would expect from me, I tell her next week is not an option. I can't walk, I have to crawl to get to the bathroom, and I can't work. I need to have my foot x-rayed TODAY! You can tell by my words just how sweet I was. And so I wait.

About 15 minutes later, a different gal calls and schedules me for 11:20.

Bless Scott, he takes off work and drives me to the Doctor's appointment and then to the x-ray facility. He does ask me as we are going home if I think I could drive with my foot and I tell him I would just use my left foot. Apparently, I didn't infuse much confidence with my answer and he tells me, "It's probably safer for him to do the driving for now." (Honestly, I could drive with my left foot. As a senior in high-school, I broke the same foot and mom wouldn't let me drive until I could play the piano and use the sustain pedal with my left foot. Well, I proved at church that I can still sustain pedal just as well with my left foot as with my right.)

It turns out, it's not broken. But they also don't have instant foot replacement options and I'm just going to have to wait it out for the next couple of weeks for it to heal. I'm not sure I've ever been able to rest anything and keep off anything for a couple of weeks!

There is a Vegi-Tale song that goes: "I Love My Lips"

My song today is: "I Love My Feet, And I Didn't Realize How Much Until I Couldn't Use Them"

PS - For any of you noticing the date of this post - It. Has. All. Been. True. Not a single joke in this. I guess it's my April Fool’s joke on myself. SIGH...

PPS - THANK YOU LLOYDS for the crutches!