Thursday, February 24, 2011

The Crazies-The Miracles

"You are more than the choices that you've made, you are more than the sum of past mistakes, you are more than problems you create, you've been remade....this is not about what you've done, but about what's been done for you, this is not about where you've been but what your brokenness brings you to...."- Tenth Avenue North

"So Father, give me the strength to be everything I'm called to be. Oh, Father, show me the way to lead them.  Won't You lead me?  To lead them with strong hands, to stand up when they can't, don't want to leave them hungry for love, chasing things that I could give up.  I'll show them I'm willing to fight, and give them the best of my life, so we can call this our home, lead me, 'cause I can't do this alone.  Father, lead me, 'cause I can't do this alone..." -Sanctus Real

I went to see my son's therapist today, without my son, which in and of itself is rather funny.  There is a trickle-down effect to therapy, though, so if she can help me with parenting, she is, in essence, treating my kid too.  I count the presence of this woman in our lives nothing short of a miracle and have no idea how we could have come this far without her.  This doctor can make sense of everything, even when I'm lost and stumbling around, headed down a dark road.  I would liken her to a GPS for our lives, though less plastic, more soul.

Today was a long one for me- up at dawn, story gigs at the nursery school up the street, parenting, more parenting, and lots of hours in waiting rooms for various members of our family.  So after some chit-chat, I looked at the Dr. and just said "I don't know, I haven't done so well this afternoon- I feel it coming....," the it being the pangs of anxiety I've become all too familiar with these last few months.  We sorted through the muck for a while- and she took me to task about my "story."  These words that I tell myself about my life, my days....she has advised me to move on from that story- its an old one- not actually my truth anymore, but one I've grown used to, and learned to believe over the years...  Many, many years.  So we worked on writing a new story- no pen or paper- just back and forth about the truth which lies before me, that I've learned not to see.  And I've agreed to begin memorizing the facts better, for when the crazies come, and they will, like today, and I need to tell myself the truths of the "now Judy. "

Then, this evening, after a quick dinner, I took my son Benjamin to the pediatrician for an emergency visit.  We waited an hour and forty-five minutes in an office the size of a closet, to be seen. You must believe me when I tell you that we both should have left with a trophy, as well as a substantial cash reward for that feat- being as no felonies of any kind took place (a little misbehavior, yes), despite both of us wanting to put our heads through the wall.  There were so many moments, truthfully, when I got lost in silliness with him...where we played games with what few things the room had to offer, and found ourselves in hysterics together.  First he weighed himself.  Then he weighed my purse.  Then he weighed himself with my purse.  Then he sorted through my purse for gum.  Then he weighed a stack of magazines and books, none of them the slightest bit interesting.  Then we played the "lets see how fast we can spin in the Dr's. swivel chair" game.  I being nearly emptied of all patience and energy, not only agreed to this, but actually spun him around with fervor.  This took up about a half hour- counting how many revolutions with his feet up in the air, down toward the floor, arms at his sides, on his belly....Then I taught him a hand game we used to play on the playground at my "ghetto school"...except I took out nearly all of the inappropriate language...except for the "your butt stinks" part.  Those three words were enough to ignite in him amazing belly laughs, from deep down in his gut, with his dimples flaring- he just fell over to the ground.  Suddenly I didn't mind the wait anymore.  I just enjoyed him- in all of his energy, impatience, and fidgeting.  We had to be creative, but I learned how to love him by stooping to his level and remembering what it was like to be eight years old, and to be just like him. 

The crazies went away, I had fun in a germ infested pediatric building, and now I'm going to bed to rejuvenate.  All miracles.


About Me

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Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, United States
Forty-three year-old, mother and staunch advocate of four young children, passionate warrior of truth and self, finding the soul in each day, sharing my struggles and triumphs as I live them. Mostly I do this for me, so my thoughts don't race as much at night as they used to. But I also give this to those of you who need to know, in any or every way, that you are not alone.

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