Skip to main content

Just because I'm trying to stay in the habit...

Being so tired you don't even want to brush your teeth is probably a good indicator not to write anything publicly. But since I'm trying to stay in the habit of writing, I'm writing.

It was a go from my school, to my kids' school to the asthma and allergy doctor, to the Chic-fil-A drive thru, to the house to change into baseball gear, to the baseball field for back to back baseball practices day. Whew. I'm pooped.

Not a surprise, I managed to forget the picture envelopes for the parent's on my oldest's team. Our pictures are Saturday and since the head coach (my other half) won't be there, I'll be expected to be directing the show. Well not really. The assistant coach will be there and he's been doing a pretty good job of fill-in head coach. Nevertheless I feel responsible as a representative of the head coach to have my stuff together. Tonight I didn't. I did get the snack schedule out though.

This is not the way I like to do life. I like life on a long-walk pace. When the day is jam packed and I find myself irritated at any extra noise I just look up. And thank God for treasures like sleep. I'm glad we get to rest. I read somewhere that sleeping is like a daily dying. We die to today. We wake up to new mercies.

Ryland got poked 72 times on his back today at the asthma and allergy doctor. He took it like a champ even with tears streaming down his face. Turns out he's allergic to the cat he loves, the molds that (according to the doctor) blow into our valley with every monsoon season, palo verde trees, and every grass imaginable. Starting tonight he has a nasal inhaler, a twice daily asthma preventative inhaler, a daily antihistamine, eye drops and a daily nasal wash.

That's all I've got. Oh, and this:

As for me, I am poor and needy, but the Lord takes thought for me. You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God!- Psalm 40:17




Quieted,
Sheila

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

eyes on the Author- the every morning struggle to walk by faith

I don't wake up full of vision and motivation.  Actually, what motivates me most is the idea that my french press and single-origin coffee from Guatemala are just minutes away from awaking my senses with it's warm, toasty aroma.  And on those days when I get my stiff, puffy-eyed body out of bed and make my way to the cabinet to prep the press with my favorite coffee and find we're out, I feel great motivation to get dressed and drive to the local store so I can hurry up and get back home before too much time has passed and get my coffee going.

Basically, coffee motivates me to get up in the morning.

Mixed in the grogginess between eyes open and that first cup of coffee I remember who I am.

I am not my own.  I am a Christian.  The weight of meaning in that word falls on me like gravity on the fledgling attempts of a young eagle to fly every morning.

I feel myself falling.  Falling. Squawking out a cry, "Help!  Help Lord!  I am yours. Let me hear your loving kindness…

An Unlikely 23 Years

Wedding Day- Sept.4, 1993
Connor's birthday- April 1, 2003
During our first separation and pregnancy with Ryland- November 2004
Seeking a new start in Arizona all together- October 2005
 Second separation March 2010
Still together on a desert trail- Spring 2015
Today has been a tough day, emotionally.

Twenty three years ago today I made a vow before God and about 100 family and friends to take James as my husband, to have and to hold from that day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and health, till death do us part.

Those are some serious promises.  Better, worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health have all been part of these 23 years.  Honestly, most of it has been hard.  We weren't a very likely match at 19 and 21.  He from the big city, me from a small town.  His dad a pharmacist, mine a log truck driver.  We met in a child development class, taking pre-reqs for nursing.  He hated it.  I loved it.  He had long hair and torn jeans and l…

post anesthesia thoughts

(has nothing to do with the post, just a pretty pic i took a long time ago)
I'm not going to over think this post too much.  I had minor surgery today and am still feeling drunk on leftover anesthesia/fentanyl/percocet.  Consider yourself and the three other people reading this warned.
In the past few weeks I've been listening to podcasts from writers, reading articles about blogging and freelance writing, etc.  In one of those I was admonished to write something daily.  Be it a blog post, a journal entry, a poem... something.  Because writers don't just think about writing, they write.  I think my pastor said or wrote that once too.  It struck me then, and when I read this lady's article.  I am a writer.  Not a known writer.  Not the best writer.  But I enjoy writing and I just process life better when I'm writing.  But when I set out to write something, especially publicly, I sometimes step in the quicksand of self-analyzing and get stuck there.  And then I don&#…