If You're Crazy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands!

99% of the time, I must admit that I am frustrated by my lack of concentration. I swear, I wasn’t always like this.

Multitasking? EASY!

Now, not so much.

I start out writing out a check, and take 5 steps to the left to grab a pen. While I’m there, I see crumbs on the counter next to the pen. I walk to the mudroom, open the closet, get the bottle of cleaner, walk back to the kitchen, get a paper towel, and go back to the mess. I clean up the mess, walk to the trash, throw away the paper towel, and then go to check my email. Two hours later, I go into the mudroom and realize that the closet door is wide open. As I stand there, dumbfounded, wondering WHY it’s open, I remember….’Oh, yeah….I was paying bills before I went looking for that pen that led me to the closet to get cleaner.’ Needless to say, the check is still lying there, waiting for me to finish task 1 of my day!

YEP. That’s me now.

Today, though, I am glad for being ¾ crazy on any given day. It means I’m not consumed with something that, just a few years ago, would be killing me right now. It means that I am able to let the to-do lists and worldly things soak into my every pore, and while it’s sometimes frustrating, I welcome it.

I’m okay with looking down and realizing I need another pedicure, or being embarrassed to be seen in my car because it’s filthy. I’m just fine with feeling like I need to clone myself to get all of the things on my perpetual list of chores done.

Why?

Because it means I’m living in the real world again.

I wasn’t always here. I was taken away to a world much worse; one that is so all-consuming that it creates scars that run deep and wide. In this world, babies get sick, children die, and the world goes on around you while you sit in awe. I took that real world for granted until I got sucked out of it. Then I sat at the window and watched in jealousy, like a little kid too short to go on the roller coaster; just watching in envy. Wishing I could go back to petty worries about bills and double coupon day. Instead, I worried about cardiologists, heart failure, feeding tubes and visiting nurses. What I would have given to worry about teething or a runny nose!

Now, here I am. Back in the real world. I’m not the same person I was when I was here the first time. I’m more aware, more grateful. I see the beauty of the sun when it shines, and I appreciate the kissability of a little bitty mouth that is missing a front tooth. I know that seeing that toothless smile is only available for a limited time, like a TV infomercial special price. For this awareness, I’m eternally grateful.

Today is my sweet Ty’s 12th birthday. I should be running around getting balloons and cake while he is at school today so I can surprise him. Instead, I spent the morning making phone calls. I ran errands, went to the post office, just like any other day. When I was done, I stopped on my way home to pick up two little balloons. Just two. Two balloons that will be released when Ty’s brother and sister come home today.

For the first few years, this day represented pain and sorrow for me. It broke my heart that no one called me on April 29….no one acknowledged his life, or his death….it felt as though I was the only one that remembered he had been here at all.

But now, 12 years later, I’m able to go about my day, get caught up in the craziness of a Monday, and not be wrought with grief. I’m able to see how blessed I am to have ever been his mother. How glorious it is to be aware of God, the love He has for me, and the way that He came and saved me when I wasn’t sure I wanted to be rescued at all. I know that no one is going to call me today, but now I also know that I don’t need anyone else to validate my son’s life for me by calling me.
Today, 12 years later, I no longer feel sick when I think of that day in the hospital; the day I realized that my prayers for healing had not been answered. I finally came to see the entire experience for what it was intended, knowing that I was chosen to be Ty’s mother. Chosen to be a survivor. Chosen to share my story so that I can help others survive, too.

Today, I am thankful for phones that ring off the hook, lines at the post office, and traffic backed up as a train passes. Sometimes, it truly is the little things. I know that, when the day is over, the chaos will stop for a brief moment. As my chest grows heavy, and a tear swells in my eye, everything around me will fade into darkness as I stand with my children and watch two balloons disappear into the blue sky. When my eye can no longer pick out their tiny speckles amidst the clouds and rays of golden sun, I’ll take the hand of a little boy with a toothless smile, and wonder if somehow, his big brother lives on through him. When his sister looks at me with her undoubtedly tear-filled eyes, I will recall the days when that same shade of ocean blue shone from behind the tiny, almond shaped eyes of a boy named Ty. For just a moment, all the craziness will stop. And when the moment is over, and the craziness resumes…I will smile as the tightness in my chest fades.

I survived another birthday, and am finally able to see just how blessed I am. 

EVEN IF I AM CRAZY...