Seven Days

It's been a week since I woke up with a pesky sore throat and had a sinking feeling that I would be unable to stop the after-effects of this on my already inflamed joints and muscles.

Unfortunately, I was correct. So while the sore throat was gone in about two days, the damage had alredy been done.

And continues to be done.

Last night I dutifully consumed my Tylenol PM and went to bed at 12:30. An hour later I was awake. My legs, which usually torment me before I go to sleep, woke me up with restlessness and the intense need to move them. Just.move.them. But the feeling migrated to my shoulders, arms, neck and back.

From there, my body contorted itself into the fetal position, not of my own choosing. Repeatedly, again and again. Contract. Release. Contract. Release.

I thought about calling my mom. I was starting to feel desperate and didn't know what to do.

Instead, I contracted and released. Breathed. Contracted and released.

Finally, I fell asleep, exhausted. If I ever were to run a marathon, that is how I would imagine myself to feel.

Today has been difficult but managable. I took a 2-hour nap on the couch while the Cowboys tried to defend themselves against the Packers. But I woke up to my legs contracting ... and moving.

For that reason, I'm dreading tonight.
But praying.

Counting Dimes

Tonight I forgot the money value of a dime.

That's the embarrassing part of this disease - when it catches me off guard and leaves me scratching my head, thinking that a pile of ten dimes is ten cents while another part of my brain argues with me "something about that doesn't sound right." So I picked up the pile of ten dimes and counted them slowly into my palm, twice. "Wait, one dime is ten cents - ten dimes is a dollar." That makes perfect sense.

Tonight I let myself cry a few tears of frustration.

A friend visited me; a friend who shares the same disease I do. She's the same friend I was supposed to spend the day with riding horses in the woods yesterday, an old past-time of ours. It was going to be our going-away day before I leave. Instead, we spent the afternoon curled up on her couches watching episodes of NCIS because I was in too much pain to walk much less ride. I fell asleep for 45 minutes too. She cried a few tears with me tonight then we laughed, gossiped a little, ate enchiladas and laughed.

Tonight I got dizzy and ran into a couple of doors.
Tonight I left my cellphone downstairs but was too tired to go get it.
Tonight I got stressed and a fever ensued.
Tonight I put supper in the oven and forgot about it. It burned.

Not every night is like tonight; don't get the wrong idea.
Tonight is just one of those nights.
But, for all the bad, I'm thankful for all the good.

And choosing now to be blessed because, well, I am.

Even on nights like tonight.

Calming Center

If I had health insurance, I would be laying in a hospital bed right now, hopefully (blissfully) hooked up to morphine and other delicious narcotics that would have taken the edge off the pain I was in last night and this morning.

Instead, I laid in bed, writhing around, rating my pain as an 11 on a scale of one to 10. I couldn't lay in one position for too long for fear of getting stiff but moving hurt too much.

I hit a mental wall, where the physical pain was beginning to affect my mind. I started thinking things like, "What if it never stops?", "What if I can never get it under control?" Panic slowly started to seep into my cells.

Then I remembered - I'd watched a friend go into labor and manage her pain by using HypnoBabies. While I clearly was not giving birth, I wondered if I could manage my pain by those same techniques.

I turned on Pandora Casting Crowns radio, laid it on my pillow, and closed my eyes. I envisioned a "calming center" in my core, a rotating ball where, as I felt wave upon wave of pain, I would put it there and the pain would leave whatever part of my body it was plaguing.

At first, it was a struggle just to acknowledge my "calming center". I felt the pain still trying to take over but I consistently resisted the urge to panic until I methodically and calmly placed the pain in the ball.

Three hours later, I'd slept peacefully and woke up refreshed and nearly painfree.

Now, it is time for me to go lay down and try to sleep, purging my pain.

The Blog of Change - which took several days to write and finish

I was contemplating today and rereading over some of my blog posts from April to now, mostly thinking about life and how it changes and the process through which that change evolves.

In the past six months I have lived a lot of life that I really wished I could have avoided but I'm thankful that I didnt.

The old adage goes, "What doesnt kill you will make you stronger" and isnt that the damn truth.

I thought I was being squeezed to death, really, the pressure was that heavy sometimes.

I cried in my bed and beat on some walls. Literally. I counted coins in my piggy bank and wondered why I was.

I resented my 'job'. I think it'd be fair to say I resented my life and the God who was directing it.

Or at least, trying to direct when I'd get out of the way.

I told him I didnt trust him. I couldnt find rest in him. I wondered what the purpose was and when I could be let in on the secret.

But all the while I knew there was a plan. I would catch glimpses of it every once in awhile, enough to keep me going, to encourage my faith, to stretch my assurance in Christ. Despite my late-night wonderings and pleading conversations with God, I could see him using me and that gave me an edge of peace.

Still, what was my purpose? What is my purpose? Surely I'm not the only one who asks that question and struggles with the answer. Whose lives am I effecting? Who am I reaching? Am I making a difference?

There has not been a grand entrance of an answer but a quiet knowing stillness. Trumpets didnt blast and horns didnt sound but there was a day when I knew it had shifted. A day when suddenly, it all started making sense

Now I'm beginning to see a small view of the picture he's been creating while I was waiting. I'm excited to know there has been a picture in the process and I'm excited to watch it unfold.

So here's my small view of the big picture, given to you.

I am (most likely) returning to New Mexico but in a much different capacity then when I was there before. I'm moving to my mom and stepdad's ranch on top of a mountain, the mountain I once said was too remote for me to live on at that particular time. But now, the time is right.

If it's possible to believe that moving to the middle of 32,000 acres is actually what God wants you to do to reach and minister to people, that's what I believe.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Trulio, I have a blog being written pretty much as we speak (even though it's taken like 4 days to compose) about the forthcoming changes but first, tonight, here is a continuation of this lesson in trust I've been actively learning since April now.

Skye ran away this afternoon. I had the front door open, I was cleaning the bathroom, her and Jada were coming and going, lounging around. Then she was gone.

First order of business - don't panic! She'll be back. Momentarily, even.

I whistled and called for about 15 minutes and still nothing. Many more moments passed. Nothing.

Here's what happened after that.

1) I had to DO something so I got in my car and drove down the road both ways, whistling.

2) Came back home. Nothing. Whistled/called.

3) Drove again. While driving, I interceded with God. I prayed but it was a very (bold!) prayer. He says to come with confidence and I did. Then I praised a little.

4). Went home. Nada

5) Laid on my bed and cried next to Jada for about two seconds.

6) Talked to Katie - she said, "have you called mom?". No. So I did. And cried a little. She assured me that Skye's nose would get her home.

7) I determined not to lay and cry. I was going to believe. I told God I trusted Him.

8) I sat on the porch, whistled, called. Prayed. Stared at the woods, expecting her to pop out, for me to hear her collar jingle.

I was thinking thoughts like, "How can I be so irresponsible?", "Am I really going to lose two dogs in a year's time?", "How will I explain this to everyone?", "I'm leaving this house in three days. What if she comes back here after I'm gone but I'm not here?", "Will somebody shoot her?", "I hope she hasnt killed anyone's livestock."

I picked up the blanket that was in my lap, walked over to my car, opened the door, hit the button to open the hatch back (I'm not entirely sure why), started walking to the back of my car, heard a jingle, looked up and here she comes down the driveway, straight to me.

I clung onto her collar, started crying, and sank into my seat in the car. Then, mechanically, I put her in my car, and walked into the house.

Once in the house, I proceeded to give myself a headache from excessive sobs and nearly caused myself to hyperventilate.

Why? I'm not entirely sure.

Maybe because I trusted and I was so overcome by His mercy on me when I saw my crazy, $6,000 dog jogging up the driveway, and I knew I was truly blessed.

I know not everyone will really understand because not every one has dogs that mean to them what mine mean to me. But basically, I told God, "Look, I can't handle this right now in my life and I need you to bring her back to me - for my sake, please.". I know my mom's prayer was somewhat similar for me.

It never ceases to amaze me that the "piddly" things in life, He cares about. Afterall, he did create her, he gave her the nose she uses for tracking, and her ability to annoy the piss out of me.

But he also did what I beseeched him to - kill the trail she was on and bring her blasted nose back to me.

I'm blessed.

And Skye has lost all of her off-leash priveleges...for a long time.
Sent from my Verizon Wireless BlackBerry

Change

Change is here, folks. But consider this a tease because I'm not in the mental state right now to fill you in.

Do you have to be in a mental state to blog?

I do, yes. Most of the time my best blogs are born out of sleeplessness while I'm laying in bed. And right now there's too much going on around me to do the Blog of Change justice.

Stay tuned.

I will share with you, though, that my friend, Catlin who I talked about here, sat in a wheelchair for the first time yesterday. We were there to witness it and applause.

He made progress too in other ways - no more IVs, morphine drips, or a catheter. For the first time since his accident, he looked like himself.

He said he remembers the accident and then nothing till about Day 10. It's amazing how merciful the mind is.

A couple times, he went to tell me a story from those early days in the hospital and his mom said, "She was here, babe."

"Really, Holly? You were here?"

Yes.

He shuffled to the bathroom and asked his mom to close the back of his gown. "I don't want to moon Holly," he said.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "You already have."

Some things from those early days probably shouldn't be discussed. It's like waking up the next day after a hellacious party and your friends trying to tell you what you did/said while you were intoxicated. Yeah, just be quiet. Please. Thank you.

Hopefully today he's being moved from the Round Wing Program at Vanderbilt to the rehabilitation hospital where he'll spend a minimum of five days. He's determined to make it out of there in five days. We'll see.

Expect the Blog of Change soon!

In Pieces

Sleep did come to me last night, in pieces. I slept for a little piece, then woke up when Katie came home. Then slept another little piece. And woke up when Evalyn started crying at 3 a.m. Then slept a little bit more until my alarm went off at 5.

Surprisingly, I feel alright this morning.

Is it okay to admit here that I had a small pity party for myself last night? When I say small, I think there were like two tears and then I scolded myself because, really, there's nothing to have a pity party over. The things I thought warranted feeling sorry for myself about are small pieces compared to the big picture of what God is doing right now.

Have I mentioned that God's doing big things? I feel like he's finally taking the pieces of the last six months of my life, the last year of my mom's and step-dad's, the last couple months of Katie's, and the many other people who are involved in this picture, and He's (finally) melding them together to create something fantabulous.

None of us are sure (in its entirety) what it's going to look like but we're okay with that (for the most part.)