Dearest PinkBaby

You know who you are.

I've carried you in my deepest heart since since way before you were born. Riding on a bus full of strangers in Brazil, I cried my soul out to God and begged Him to send you.

Then He did, so miraculously.

All I ever wanted you to know is how much you are beloved, how beyond all worldly price you are, how I still long for and pray for the best for you every day and with every heartbeat of my life here. There was never a time when you weren't our darling.

And that's only a fraction of how much the One Who made you and gave you to us treasures you.

I will never stop loving, never stop hoping, never stop believing. Not today, and not forever.

So not in control

I know you'll forgive me if the bulk of this post is a c&p of one I wrote last night to my Wired4Life sisters. Two-fingered hunt 'n' peck gets tedious.
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Apparently, I can't do anything in a small way. A friend took me to my GP today
because of painful swelling in the left arm which developed Sunday. Doc sends me
for ultrasound to confirm suspicion of a clot. Young lady at the front desk says
my appointment is for tomorrow, not today. I say I thought Doc said today, right
away; she answers No, earliest we can get you in is tomorrow, you're done for
today, goodbye. Friend brings me home and sees me safely up (we're on the 3rd
floor w/ no elevator.)

Ten minutes after I dismiss my friend, Ms. Not-Today calls sounding almost
frantic. Whoops. Misread Doc's orders, get to imaging center right away. Now! I
call my friend back, who just got home, and ask him to turn around and come back
for me. He does. We're headed back down the stairs--the ones I have negotiated
for 14 years carrying groceries, laundry, kids, etc. with nary an incident--and
on the second floor landing I abruptly step out into space, landing full weight
on my right side before either of us knows what happened! My friend was so
freaked out he reached to grab me by my left arm--double ouchie ooo ooo!!--while
I'm yelling "Don't touch that arm!!"

We both thought I'd broken at least my ankle. My friend, who's also a physician,
examined me and found, thankfully and miraculously, that was not the case. Took
a couple of minutes before I could get up.

Of course I was deathly afraid I'd jarred my wires loose. God being merciful, I
didn't, but my ankle hurt. I got to my appointment holding
onto my physician friend's arm for dear life, shaking all the way.

Rest of the story: superficial phlebitis from the IV at the hospital last week.
Ankle swollen like mad by the time I got home. Both my GP and cardio doc said
I'll be fine, just sore for a few days where I fell and for a few weeks at the
affected vein site. So now I have matching swellings on both sides...wired *and*
symmetrical, all in 8 days.

My poor husband about had a cow when he heard about my adventures (he works in a
gov't contract office and can't be reached easily by phone.) But hey, I lived to
tell the tale, didn't I?

And now it's official: the sling stays on till my arm heals.

Now what was YOUR day like? :-)
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Nope. I'm definitely not in control...but I know the One Who is.

Needing and accepting are two different things

When crisis comes, most of us are blessed with at least one or two people, friends and family, who want to help any way they can. In my case, I am extraordinarily and abundantly provided for. Why, then, is it so difficult to sit still? I just had a life-saving surgical intervention, and need help with housework. Why am I compelled to get up and dust before my friend comes to dust? She wants to do my laundry; I feel it necessary to lean over the hamper and sort out the clothes, despite how that tires me. Meals arrive from loving hands; I allow the absurd pigeons of misplaced guilt to flock around my head as I concentrate on all the times I was not there for someone else--even when I didn't know they needed it--while dismissing all the times I was.

What is it about me?

Simply put, I'm not a very good receiver of the charitable love of others. And I'm willing to bet you're probably not, either. We have to humble ourselves to be in the position of receiving.

Humility: it's what's for dinner, served up in a nice, golden, flaky crust. And it's the most nourishing meal ever.

Gingerbread Boys and the Bradychardia That Stole Christmas

The hardest thing right now is not seeing the little boys. It's Christmas, and I want quality grandbaby time! However, frisking around with or even picking up Tigger and Pooh is definitely off the plate for now. It's so cool to talk to Tig by phone and hear him describe his pretty Christmas tree and say "Yuh you, Nonna!" with little PoohBoy banging pot lids in the background. They wouldn't understand why Nonna Tickle Monster can't chase after them and make them laugh till their eyes bug out, or swing them by their ankles onto the bed, or lift them up to touch the chandelier, or put them up over her left shoulder and soothe them into a nap the way she often did before.

I am sooooooo glad we went to the Holiday Parade of Lights the week before all this happened! That's a special memory I'll always cherish of Christmas '09, even though it might well be the only one with them. God willing, there will be plenty of gingerbread, glitter, and giggling this time next year.





The girl in the pink hat is my daughter, the Gingerbread Mommy.



The smiling lady holding Tigger is the boys' other grandmother. Can't have too much love!

Blessed are the pacemakers

The dressing came off Friday and for the first time I could assess the damage...hmm, not bad, all things considered. Won't be wearing anything strapless in public for quite a while, but then, I never did. Badge of honor, badge of life.

Here's my new BFF, literally closer than a heartbeat!




The manufacturer calls it Adapta. I call it Thumper (thanks, BBB!)

Wired

Welcome to my new world.

December 7, 2009...a day that will live in memory for the Shannons. That's when I went to the ER and ended up with a pacemaker, after coming really, really close to leaving for good.

I really will start blogging again. There's a whole new life to be thankful for, and it does matter.

Ironically, Memorial Day

Our son's birthday was Monday, which was Memorial Day. Every year takes me farther from him. What would he have been like as a 32-year-old? Forgive me for being selfish. Many, many families marked this holiday by mourning their equally precious children lost or changed forever because somebody else started wars. Jeremy wanted to join the military when he was a boy and would have been good at it (if he'd survived being told what to do). But of course his accident prevented that. He was, however, a different kind of hero, and just as brave.

My deepest gratitude to everyone who made a way for us to enjoy our freedom and the years we had with such a son as Jeremy.