Walker Races

On your mark, get set, GO!  

I find it quite humorous to watch people around me.  I'm an observer and notice little things from shoes being too small or big to a small piece of toilet paper on the bottom of ones shoe.  I have to admit, I even eavesdrop on conversations from neighboring tables when I'm in a restaurant.  For some reason other people's lives interest me.  Awful.  I know it, but it's true. 

This past summer I was headed to the grocery store with my son, Luke.  We wheeled into the parking lot and pulled towards the front of the store.  I was trying to find a parking spot up front so I didn't have to lug my two-year-old in the hot Louisiana sun, down the parking lot aisles, making sure he doesn't try to open every car door on the way to the front of the grocery store. 

Instead of whipping into that VERY close parking space, I had to stop at the pedestrian crossing.  In front of me I watched an elderly lady, around the age of seventy, and a younger man, about fifty-four, both pushing their walkers and seeming out of breath.

Sitting there in my SUV I watched the two of them, the elderly lady in front, the younger man a few steps behind her, make their way to store entryway.  A sudden voice came through my head.  You know, the voice you hear at horse or dog races narrating to you who's in what place.

"Here comes the Bunny!  And they're off!  It's Old Lady in the lead, Fifty-Four right on her heels....." 

I sat there, I know, for a good two to three minutes, which accounts for a great amount of time nowadays, the voice narrating the scene in front of me.  I think I chuckled to myself while in the store several times.  Luckily, I didn't see either one of them. Otherwise I might of drawn eyes and embarrassed myself.   

It might not be good of me to humor myself while watching two disabled individuals try so desperately to get to the grocery store to buy food, but I've wondered if I would laugh at such a thought if I were in their position?  I think I would!  Laughing keeps the heart young! 

Waddles

As many people know, my husband and I are allergic to just about everything.  Eric, my husband, covers the inhalants, I cover the foods and we both have our seasonal allergies.  So when I became pregnant two years ago, I prayed that our allergies would cancel each other out and produce a non-allergic child.  Unfortunately, that's not the case.  In fact, our son developed an allergy to something neither one of us is allergic:  Fruits. 

Odd, isn't it?  A child allergic to fruits.  Out of all the things in this world it had to be fruits.  How, you might ask, did we find out about this allergy?  Did we have to rush him to the emergency room because he wasn't breathing?  No.  Did he swell up like the little blueberry girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?  No.  

I noticed this obvious allergy by what appeared in his diaper.  (I'm sorry if this is disgusting, and I do apologize.)  One day, about a year ago, we fed him mandarin oranges from a can.  When we changed the diaper, we noticed that the oranges he ate were not exactly digesting in the right way.  Well, they weren't digested at all.  I'm pretty sure if we tried to retrieve the pieces from the diaper we might actually put the orange pieces back together.  

Shortly have this incident, we noticed that his rear end began to redden and come to the point of bleeding.  Sad thing for him.  Imagine being an infant, having to wear a non-breathable diaper all day and then you break out with a rash on your rear because you're allergic to the fruits you ate.  UGH!  I'd have a miserable day!

Today, of all the day for such things to happen, this is my first day back at school, the daycare where Luke attends calls my husband to inform him that Luke has a "runny" diaper.  In a quick diagnosis of what could be the problem, my husband tells the daycare director that Luke had a piece of apple on Sunday (it was Saturday) and that could be the problem.  Of the past year we have both noticed that if he is, in fact, allergic to a certain fruit, immediate results can be seen.  If eaten during the morning, within an hour or two you will see the results.  

Eric text messaged me during our nice little teacher's inservice and explained the situation as best he could.  I, of course, immediately start worrying that he may not have enough clothes at daycare or that he's sick and I'm going to have to take days off to stay home with him.  (I don't mind, but I do wish that I could go a month or two without taking off from work due to an illness in the family!)

Immediately following the inservice, I call the daycare and they assure me everything is okay.  I proceed to eat lunch, attend my last meeting of the day, and head to the daycare to pick him up.  

As soon as I walk in the door, the poor little chap is waddling.  Yes, WADDLING!  His teacher is in the process of changing diapers after nap time and Luke is up next, with a healthy helping on his plate, and begins to scream and cry.  For a parent, this stinks, although I have to admit I was glad she was doing the changing rather than me.  Inflicting pain upon your children does not help a parents psyche.  

Never in my life have I seen his rear end so red.  The poor baby can't walk, he can't put his legs around your waist so you can carry him on your hip, he can't even sit because of the pain.  I have never seen him in such a state.  

I would like to note here that although this is an allergy, this was a parental diagnosis.  Having had allergies, I do believe that Eric and I are highly qualified personnel.  That being said, we do not have a sufficient doctors note to verify that Luke is, in fact allergic to fruits.  So, our daycare can do nothing during the day but feed Luke fruits unless notified otherwise from a doctor.  Make no mistake, a sufficient doctor's note will be the hand of our daycare director by the end of the week.

In questioning his meals for the day, we were informed that peaches were served for breakfast, in which case resulted in a call to Eric this morning and this red rear end.  

Our daycare is great and I bless their little hearts for putting up with a cranky child who I know affectionally will call WADDLES for the duration of the week.  I wish I could post a video of Luke waddling around the house.  It's quite comical, but I'll leave your imagination to work it out.   

Life is Built Around Tests

I originally was going to blog about how standardized tests do nothing but give statistics and disappoint those who take them, but when I titled this blog something spoke to me.  

I have, over the past few months, realized that God is continually testing me, nudging me to fully trust him.  In more than one way has he provided evidence that he is in control.  

My husband lost his job three months ago.  The first thing that pops into someone's mind going through such a situation is "How are we going to survive this?"  But there really should be one answer to all life's troubles:  God.  He had done nothing but care of us.  When we were wondering how we would pay for things, HE has provided money at the very time we've needed it.  

It's a test for us and we've both realized that trusting God rather than living for ourselves, trying to control those things around us, isn't necessarily easy, but it opens our eyes to how great HE is in this sad world we call home. 

When my son was born, I had a hard time taking him to daycare or letting him stay with a family member or friend.  I was always afraid that a fire would break out at daycare and he would be the only one left behind.  I have a fear that the person driving the car will wreck and he'll die or that he and I will be in a car accident and he'll die and I'll live.  

It sounds funny and unrealistic, a little irrational, but thoughts like this flood my mind on a daily basis.  The one thing I've learned is I can't worry about it.  I have to give my son's life totally to God and pray that he will protect him and keep him safe.  It's the only way for me to make it through my day.  A test from God to trust.  

My Mother is dying of metastatic breast cancer.  A large tumor is growing in her brain.  She has had two brain surgeries within a two year period and did fine in the surgeries.  Unfortunately, the surgeries only helped for a small amount of time, a time she and her family have cherished.  Thank the Lord he gave her this long.  

God has given her time to see the birth of my son, she's gotten to see his first birthday and see him walk.  She has gotten to travel, she really preferred cruises, she's gotten to help others, encourage them.  Although she has gotten to see and do things, she always lived and is still living her life for Jesus Christ.  

On a regular basis people tell me how much she means to them, what she's done for them, how she's helped their family in years past.  I'm honored to have such a Mother, but her time is short.  

It's hard watching her pass away so slowly.  She's now sleeping more, eating less, making her way to heaven.  But my one question I ask every night is "Why can't you just take her, Lord?"  I don't fully understand why allowing her to die so slowly is necessary, she's been bedridden since March, but I have to remind myself that God is in control and he's still working.  

As I said earlier that I didn't intentionally mean to write about God testing me, but I believe God is doing just that with my Mom.  I'm learning how to trust God in situations that I don't understand, learning to persevere in such a time of grief.  

I pray that God continues to work and I and my family continue to see his hand work in and around our lives.  He is always here for us and always here for anyone who calls upon his name.  How sweet is that name.