Gasping for Air

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I have about 3 other posts started, but not finished.  Sometimes I think writing is so therapeutic that halfway through a post I end up curing myself of whatever was eating at me in the first place and then I’m all good and can’t think of any more words to say.  Funny.

Cause right now I can’t seem to come up with the words.  And by no means do I feel “all good.”  I should say, I am thankful that no one in my family is dying, or has cancer, or has any of those other things that could suck the life right out of us at any given moment.  No, this is much less than that, thankfully.  Still, it feels like a blow.  Lyme Disease. Unbelievable.  I wanted it to not be.  We had Jake tested, we really hoped we were wrong, and I wouldn’t let myself believe that we could be right in suspecting it.  But we were right.  I just got the official phone call.  The results are in and will now be reported to the CDC.  I guess that means I can’t pretend it’s not real.

I don’t know what to do.  Again, I know it’s not the end of the world.  We will work through it and be okay.  But it doesn’t feel fair.  Not for me, but for Jake.  He is the most energetic, nothing slows him down kid I know.  Or at least, that’s how he used to be.  And sometimes still is… I don’t understand this.  He loves golf.  LOVES it.  Used to be he could hit balls for hours on end, literally, and I would bring him to kindergarten late because we just couldn’t walk away from the driving range without hitting every. last. ball…  He also used to ride his bike.  And by ride, I mean RIDE.  Rode two miles at two years old without training wheels.  At five years old and he was pushing 12 miles easily, begging for more.  Then, there is the fact that he is hard-wired for math problems.  At four years old, in a grocery cart, he explained to me that 9 x 9 is 81, because if you have 10 tens, but take one ten away, that makes ninety, and that’s 10 x 9, and then if you take another 9 away, that’s 81, which is 9 x 9.  What???  I didn’t even understand it at first.  And Lyme Disease – well, it eats away at these kinds of things.  It devours your energy.  It sucks at your mental concentration.  It can leave you in a fog, wishing you could sleep each and every day away.  Which is NOT the Jake I ever pictured.  It’s just not what you wish for your own child.

So here I am wondering how we pick up the pieces.  I guess we just DO.  It’s what happens.  You pick up the pieces and you keep marching on.  You love your babies, you hug your friends,  you treasure the moments that bring a sweet smile to your face.

I don’t have that angelic feeling of “Well, I know God will use this for His glory,” by the way. I feel like it’s important to make sure you know that.  I think most of you know that I am eternally grateful to God and Jesus for all they have done for me and I realize that there is a much bigger plan than what I can see.  But I also think that sometimes we see the outside shell of a person and somehow imagine that they always think lovely, heavenly thoughts.  I want you to know that my thoughts right now are NOT “Thank you, God, for this chance to bring glory to you.”  Sorry for the brutal honesty, but though there are people who preach that we SHOULD say this when we hit trials, to that I say “Suck it.  YOU do it in YOUR trials first.”  Anyway, being the black gray sheep of the family, I feel like every once in awhile if I need to say something like “suck it” in a blog, well, people can just be thankful that I ended the vocabulary lesson there.  I do want very much for God to be glorified and honored in all, but right at this moment I would actually rather give this one back to God and say, “Nice try, but you’re going to need to find a different way for us to give you glory.”  But, it’s out of my hands.

And as I type this, my eyes are suddenly overwhelmed with tears.  Oh shit, the dreams that are dying… I mean, it’s not a death sentence, I know.  But you can’t take a kid with Lyme Disease and move to Central America to love on Guatemalans, can you?  And will he ever have the energy to do the things he wants to do again?  He thinks he is going to break a world record for how far he can ride a bike.  I just… I can’t even think about it.  I just can’t handle it.

I will do better when I process it some more…

And I am left speechless… Because the moment I finished that last sentence, I went to another open tab on my computer, and literally stumbled across these lyrics for the first time…


I close my eyes

Try to tell myself, it’ll be alright

But my doubting mind

Is against me now, I can’t hold it down.

I thought I was a strong man

I don’t wanna say that I’m falling apart.

I know I’m gonna break,

So what’s it gonna take to get to my heart.

Oh, You want my heart.

And sometimes


You shatter dreams, You tear down walls

You wake me up, when I’m half asleep

Just to get to me.

You shower me, when I don’t deserve

You never hold back anything, no

Just to get to me.


I don’t deserve

For You to chase me down, to call me out.

One day I hope to learn

How to completely give you all of me, hey

Through all my testing,

You have never left me falling apart.

I know I’m gonna break

Do what it’s gonna take to get to my heart.

If that means


You shatter dreams, You tear down walls

You wake me up, when I’m half asleep

Just to get to me.

You shower me, when I don’t deserve

You never hold back anything, no

Just to get to me.


Before I ever had a heartbeat

Before I even had a name

You held my life inside of Your hands.

Every door that You open,

And every road that You’ve closed,

Was Your plan in motion to make me who I am.


You shatter dreams, You tear down walls

You wake me up, when I’m half asleep

Just to get to me.

You shower me, when I don’t deserve

You never hold back anything, no

You never hold back

You never hold back anything,

Just to get to me.

So, I pray… Get to me, God.  Get to Jake.  Get to us all.  Cause we are so, so broken…

Full Steam Ahead…

I saw the Titanic.  I know the story.  There *might* be icebergs, the captain chugs along anyhow, and they hit one.  They all go down.  I just pray my story ends differently.  I feel like we are speeding along in icebergy waters right now.  Honestly, this is just so me.

Stage 1: Bored.  Need things to do to keep me busy.

Stage 2: Find activities to commit to.  Being bored is fresh on the brain so commit, commit, commit.  Sign onto every living breathing project that is passed my way.

Stage 3: Gasp.  Overwhelmed.  Juggling a LOT of plates and some are very pretty and fragile and I can NOT break them but oh my GOSH – I forgot that I told a few other people I’d help them out with their plates too so add them in!  And all of a sudden I am precariously close to losing every last plate in the air because there are more plates than I can count.  How did this happen???

Stage 4: Start to pray.  “Oh God, let the plates not crash.  Oh God, take the plates away. Oh God, help me say no to plates.  Oh God, I promise NO MORE PLATES EVER!!!!!!!!!”

Stage 5: Miraculously, the plates one by one disappear.  I have no idea but it’s like they all just get plucked away from the juggler and all of a sudden I am just holding 2 plates.  No need to even juggle. And I HUG the plates and I LOVE the plates and I swear to the plates that I will NEVER EVER EVER juggle again and we will all move away to a small city in Mexico where no one can find us and NO ONE there will know I juggle plates.  We will tell NO ONE.

Stage 6:  In the quiet moments of starting to plan our Mexican retreat, I find myself a bit bored. Kids are at school, Brian is at work, and I think about how much fun it might be to juggle.  Just a tiny bit…



I am sick.  I am seriously sick.