Glass

Tomorrow is the one year "anniversary" of a tragedy that has been a defining moment in my life for the past year.  The death of a young woman I loved as one of my own, a life cut short, events beyond my human understanding.  Daily life has become easier, but there are times when grief still completely envelopes me.  The car accident had a snowball effect, many other things stemming from that moment in time.

Some of that day I can still remember so clearly.  Parts of it that I fight to block from my memory, I just can't forget.  Other parts of that day I can't remember no matter how much I concentrate.

There are days I have felt broken, incomplete from grief and pain.  I have felt as though I have been judged in my grief, as if no one has understood, as though others have questioned it; after all, she wasn't my child, 'merely' my friend's child.  How dare I grieve so deeply, how dare I miss her so much?

The grief and pain from that tragedy, as well as my grandfather's death, compounded other things I was going through, other things I was feeling.  I began to experience delayed post-partum depression.  I started to question my place not only within my family, but within life itself.  I wanted to run, be anywhere but here, where I belong.  I felt broken, shattered and fractured.  One thing after another.

Because of this, and a recent event in a very good friend's life, she, our third 'half', and I were talking about grief, life, death and passing moments today.  We were talking about how we need to grab onto the moments we are given, and just live for everything it is worth.  Our spouses and children, family and friends, all need to know how precious and important they are to us.  It is up to us to make the moments count.  Life goes too fast, and often, before we know it, the moment is gone.  We need to take these chances to reevaluate our own lives, look at what we need to do differently, what lessons we can take, even what part of that person has been added to us.  How have we been made better by that person being a part of our lives?

I likened this to being a pane of glass.  When we are born, we are one, solid, clear pane of glass.  As we grow through life, as we experience different events, as people touch our lives, passing in and out, helping us weave our stories, that clear, solid pane is often broken.  When someone we love dies, when an experience is over, often a piece of us also dies, leaving us broken, shattered and fractured.  Pieces of that clear glass are taken away; each time we lose a loved one, each time we pass through another experience, we lose a piece of ourselves with those people, with those losses.  We become fractured parts of the whole we once were.

We can't see it as it's happening--we are simply too close to it--but this fracturing is all part of God's plan for us.

As we grow, as we mature, as we learn and love more, as we make new memories, as other people enter our lives--new panes of glass are added back in.  Big, colorful pieces.  The people and experiences who have passed will eventually also become colorful pieces, as we are able to remember them with joy and peace, instead of sadness and grief.  Pieces that begin to identify who we are, who we are becoming, who Christ wants us to be in His glory.  This is, if you will allow the unintended pun--the bigger picture.

Some day, my stained glass picture will be complete.  I will be a masterpiece, a work of art.  A HIS art.  I will be whole again, in Him.  Until then however, I will do my best to live sweetly broken, and forever added to, for Him.

I shall not die, but live, recover and be restored, but also declare and celebrate the good word and works of the LORD.  Psalms 118:17

*Ausha, Sweetheart, you are loved so very much, and missed every day.

A Special Addition to Our Family

Okay, there are two trains of thought here, but don't worry, they will meet at the same station.  :)


Train 1
I have long loved the name Anastasia, using the soft pronunciation, "Anastahsha" or "Ana-stah-see-ah."  If our future daughter (hey, I can dream, can't I?!) weren't already named, using a form of my mother-in-law's name, Anastasia would be her name, easily.  I think it's a beautiful name.

Train 2
Shawn and I have considered sponsoring a child through World Vision or Compassion International.  It's just never felt right, though.  We've looked at pictures, sorted through biographies and names, talked until we're blue in the face, and while every single child is special, and every story is sad, none of them really leaped out at us.  We knew we would want to sponsor a little girl, and we also knew we'd want to support a child with special needs.  Noah is funny--every time we go to the bookstore, he campaigns to "buy" a child.  We've explained the process to him (we are not purchasing a child, Noah!), explained the financial commitment, as well as the emotional and spiritual commitments.  We've told Noah:  This is not a one-time deal.  This is a lifetime.  This is a human being, not a name, not a story.  These children are real.

The Station
Last week, the radio station we listen to did a big push for Compassion.  Their goal was to have as many children as possible signed up with sponsors over a 48 hour period.  I didn't think much of it, honestly.  The DJ's were excitedly talking about some of the children, sharing some truly horrific stories, and speaking with their guest from Compassion.

As I was driving and listening, the DJ began to talk about a little girl named Tasya.  Four years old, she lives in Indonesia, she has special needs, is an only child who lives with her parents.  Oh, and her full name is Anastasya.  I was so absolutely floored by God yelling at me, that I accidentally hit the gas pedal!  I pulled over because I was shaking so hard I was afraid I would cause an accident.  And, being who I am, I'd also started crying.  I texted my friend to tell her about this little girl and said "This is it!  This is HER!"  Then I called my husband, who was a little more skeptical than I was.  I begged him to just think about it, please.

When I got home, I found her picture (she's beautiful, by the way), and sent the link in an instant message to Shawn.  He ignored me.  I got a little more persistent; I can be very obnox--I mean, persuasive, when I need to be!  That night, after the boys were in bed, I said a little prayer for Tasya, then set about campaigning for her cause with my husband.  We went to bed, agreeing to sleep on it.

The radio's big push for Compassion was continuing into the next day. Shawn went to work, I went to the center, Noah went to school, Avery went to daycare.  Life in the lives of the Furr family continued. But, Tasya was there, in the very front of my mind.  I just knew she was for us, and us for her.  So many things had fallen into place, and I just knew this is how it's supposed to be!

When I got home from the center, I checked Tasya's link again.  I AIMed it to Shawn at work, with "She's still there!  She's still waiting for us!"  I could hear him sigh all the way from his office, and the earth shifted when he shook his head.  We talked over AIM a little bit more, then an email popped in my inbox, congratulating us on our new family addition, thanking us for our sponsorship, and telling us that our information package would arrive soon.  What????  Shawn was in the middle of telling me to send her link to him again, so I called him as I was refreshing the page.  While the page loaded on my computer, I was explaining the email to Shawn and promising that I had not given the company any information and I did not know why I got the email.  Tasya's page finished loading, but at the top were big red words, "We're sorry.  This child is no longer available for sponsorship."


My brain is a little slow.  I still had yet to put two and two together.

I immediately started crying, blubbering to my husband that someone else had gotten her.  Putting things in perspective for me, he said, "Well, isn't it a good thing that she's covered for the next year by us then?  If she is that important to you, then she is that important to me."


Well, yes, it's a good--Wait...  What????

Yep.  Tasya is officially part of our family now!  I feel beyond blessed.  It's been unbelievably emotional for me, and I honestly can't explain quite why.  I have only seen a picture of her, yet I can tell you without a doubt that I completely and honestly love her as if she were my own, as much as I first realized I loved my boys the second their pregnancy tests turned positive.

When I told Noah about our newest addition, he responded, "Cool.  When do we go get her?"  I have never felt such an unbelievable warmth with Noah before.  Just like that, he was ready to move her in!

Now I am camped out by the mailbox, impatiently waiting for Tasya's information packet to arrive.  I cannot wait to learn more about her, and send her a letter and pictures from our family!  Each night, as I've tucked my own boys into bed, kissed them and hugged them good night, I have mentally kissed and hugged "our" Tasya, as well.  I have prayed that her parents are the kind who tuck her in, kissing her, hugging her, and telling her beautiful and loved she is.

Oh, Shawn made me promise I won't send out birth announcements, but he didn't say anything about not photoshopping her into the family Christmas photo!  ;)

*Sigh*

So tonight I'm clinging just a little harder to Avery's snuggles from last night than I usually might.  Yeesh. Oh my gosh, my children!  There are days I just shake my head, because that's really all I can do.  Otherwise, I end up sounding quite a bit like Elmer Fudd:  "Wha-Why-How-Whatwereyouthinkingwhydidyoudothat?"  I stutter, because quite honestly, I just really don't know what else to say, so my brain just starts shutting down.

I bought toilet bowl cleaner today.  On the box, it says the gel tubes should last up to 12 weeks.  Turns out, if your child is an 11 year old with Asperger's, it will last maybe an hour, but probably closer to only five minutes.

Oh my gosh.  

I sent Noah to the bathroom to brush his teeth.  Preoccupied, it took me several minutes to realize I didn't hear any water running, or the sound of a toothbrush, or any noise....  at all.  That meant that Noah was up to something.  I called out, and reminded him that he was supposed to be brushing his teeth.  I heard a lot of water running, but remember...  I was preoccupied.

Noah came out to say good night to us and I smelled something....  fresh.   "Noah, WHY DO YOU SMELL LIKE TOILET CLEANER????"

I trudged back to the bathroom, hearing the Imperial March from Star Wars in my head, dragging my feet, dreading what I was going to see.

OH.  MY.  GOSH.

There, in my bathroom, was the entire 12 weeks of toilet bowl gel, pretty much everywhere:  Noah had gone stamp happy.  On the walls, the shower/tub, the wooden door, the cabinets, the washer, the dryer, the shower curtain, the window, the blinds, and, of course, the toilet.  He'd shoved the empty tubes and the box under some things on top of the dryer, I suppose in the hope that I wouldn't notice the blue gel smeared all over the rest of the bathroom, or the "light, fresh scent" that was beginning to permeate the entire house.


OHMYGOSH.  I just didn't even know what to say.  I just hung my head, pointed to his bedroom and said, "Go."

Now, this is something I can imagine Avery doing (except he would've been wearing it).  I could excuse it if my toddler did it.  It's something I remember cleaning up after the little boy with severe autism I worked with in college decided to shaving cream his bathroom, toothpaste their hallway, then liquid make-up their hallway (fortunately, not in the same day, or even in the same week).  But with Noah, I just keep shaking my head and asking "WHY?????"  If he'd done it once and said, "Okay, so that's how it works," and gone on with his day, I could understand.  I gotta tell you, I'm having some difficulty with this though, I really am.

Hopefully by tomorrow morning I'll be able to laugh at least half as much as you are right now.

Lullaby, and Good Night

Sometimes, they really do seem to get it, after all...

When Avery was a newborn, his pediatrician had us rush him from her office straight to the hospital after having his blood drawn.  "Don't go home.  Just go to the admitting waiting room and wait for my call," she instructed.  Avery had a severe case of jaundice, so for the next several days, he and I were relegated to the tiny little hospital room we'd been assigned while he received light therapy.  After Day 2 of singing This Little Light of Mine to my little glow worm, my brain started to turn to mush from cabin fever, physical exhaustion and sheer emotional fatigue.  I remember when I sang to my baby, I just started stringing words together, even if they didn't make sense.  At one point, I even made up our own little lullaby:

"Mommy loves Avery,

Yes, she does!

Mommy loves Avery,

Yes, she does!

I love Avery,

Yes I do!

I love Avery,

Yes I do!"

That lullaby has seen us through vaccinations, boo-boos, all-nighters, allergy tests, breathing treatments, and all sorts of other shenanigans.   It has become Avery's comfort method and lullaby of choice.  Sometimes our song is slow and quiet, other times it is loud and upbeat, depending on what the mood or occasion calls for.  On his daycare questionnaire, under the "what comforts your child" question, along with his puppy and blankie, I wrote out our song, then taught it to his teachers.  With this song, Avery has taught me it's not always about how the voice that is singing sounds (the Lord did say make a joyful noise, after all...), but it's more about the words that are being sung.

Tonight, Avery needed a few more snuggles before bedtime.  We rocked for a bit while he sniffed his puppy ear and I sang our song.  I closed my own eyes as he nestled deeper into me, listening to his sweet little toddler murmurs of happiness and sleepiness as I sang, just loving being in that moment with my child.  Then, a few seconds after I finished the last line, I heard Avery quietly start singing his own version:

"Avery loves Mommy,

Yes I do!

Avery loves Mommy,

Yes I do!"

Yes, sometimes they really do "get" it....  And these are the moments we cherish, always and forever.

If I Don't Put Him in a Baby Cage, I'm Going to Need a Padded Room

Some people seem to be able to coast through life, just enjoying it as it comes.  They seem to have few twists and turns, a relatively easy path.  Nothing too exciting ever seems to happen, their feathers are seldom ruffled...  So you know what else they have?  A really boring life.


Oh, but not us!  No, here in the Furr household, daily life itself is an adventure!  We scoff in the face of easy and calm!  We laugh at boring!  HA!  HA!  HA!

Yep, you guessed it.  Avery did it again.  Only this time, he didn't actually call 911, he hit the panic button on our house alarm.  And he didn't do it while I was in the shower, he did it while I was standing less than two feet away from him, pouring his milk.

I immediately punched in our code, then scooped my panicked toddler up into a snuggle to calm him down and reassure him.  That siren is LOUD.  That's when the phone rang....  "Hi, this is ADT calling...."  Only I couldn't remember our password.  It was one of two colors, Noah's favorite from umpteen years ago when we'd first had the security system installed.  I gave the alarm company dispatcher one of the colors and my name, and the phone call was over.  Whew, I'm glad that's over and done with! 


Only, it wasn't, because anything is seldom that simple in this house.  It seems I'd chosen the wrong one of the two colors, so ADT had alerted our local police.  The phone rang again....  Just as a deputy's car pulled into my driveway.  With lights AND sirens.  This time, the phone call was from our friendly neighborhood sheriff's office, asking if everything okay, telling me they'd received an alert from my alarm company and had dispatched a deputy to check things out.  "Yep.  Everything's okay.  My toddler set the alarm off, scared himself half to death, and your deputy is here.  In my driveway.  With his lights and sires on.  Please thank him for not drawing his gun, throwing me to the ground and handcuffing me in my own home!  Thanks!  Have a great day!"  Okay, so the excitement is over now, RIGHT?  PLEASE????


Nope.

ADT called back again to tell me they'd sent an alert to my local police department and help was on the way.   Yes, thank you, I know, the help you sent is leaving my house as we speak... This time I went with the OTHER color when she asked for my password and name, and wouldn't you know it, I got it right.  Whew.

Oh well.  At least Mommy wasn't "getting a drink" this time, right?  And the young police officer got to start his morning off with lights AND sirens (based on his age, I'm betting he's been dying for a chance to use them ever since they turned him loose with his badge.  I'm just glad he wasn't itching for a chance to use his gun, handcuffs or tazer....).  And now we know how quick, reliable and responsive both our alarm company and police department are!  I figure that by getting the day's excitement out of the way by 9 am, that means the rest of the day should be a breeze, right?  That's the hope, anyway!  At any rate, I'm pretty sure we're on a "list" of some sort by now.

Now, where'd I put my Xanax?????

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother's Day to all of you out there in blog-land!  If you are blessed with a husband like mine, you received a very special and well-thought out gift, a well-intended (but maybe not so well cooked!) dinner, and a pink princess cake (because that was all that was left at the store that met the necessary requirement of lots of frosting....).  Maybe you were awoken this morning by the toddler in your bed sitting up and shouting, "Mom!  It's not dark out anymore!  Get up!"  Maybe you were also lucky enough to grab a three hour nap with two of your kitties and your toddler, have your car cleaned for you and have a few other household chores taken care of for you.  I truly hope you've had a wonderful day with your family!

Shawn made a genuine effort to make today special for me.  I love him for that.  But truly, he makes an effort to make every day special.  I don't get flowers or gifts every week, but he shows me with his actions, and tells me with his words how cherished, loved and cared for I am.  'They' say you can tell how a man will treat his wife by how he treats his mom.  I remember Shawn was the only man in his house (out of four) who treated his mom the way she deserved to be treated.  To him, she was the queen.  He treats my mom and my grandmother with the same respect.  I see how patient he is with my aging grandmother, and it makes me love him even more.  I see how respectful he is of our widowed neighbor, how much he cares about her and what he does to help her.  Wait...  Isn't this is a MOTHER'S DAY BLOG?????  Sorry Shawn, your accolades will have to wait for another post.


Okay, back on track....


Tonight, I want to cover a few things here.  To begin with, I want to thank my cat--yes, my cat--Sophie, also known as Princess Pookie, for first making me a mom 16 years ago.  There are days I think she will be my only little girl, and when I think of how I survived college, most likely only because of her companionship, I'm grateful.  She's been toppled off her little pedestal by my human children, but she still remains faithful to me.  It causes me great pain to watch her age, but each purr she rewards me with lets me know she still loves me.  I want to thank Noah and Avery for making me a mom of two legged creatures.  I love you two boys more than you will ever know, more than you can ever comprehend.  As crazy as you can make me, not a day goes by when you do something endearing to make up for it.  I love you from your heads to your toes, and I'm just so grateful to have you both as my children.  It is truly an honor and a privilege to be your mom, a responsibility I will always cherish.

To my mom, my grandmother, Shawn's mom and our dog, Gretta (yep, you read that one right, too).  Mom and Nanny, thank you for loving me even through my bologna to the woman I am today.  Thank you for helping mold and shape me into the mom I have become.  To Shawn's mom, who is no longer with us, I will always be grateful to her for raising a gentleman, a man who has turned into a superb husband and dad.  Gretta, how can I ever thank you for sharing the maternal load in our home and for always taking your maternal role so seriously?  I love your love for your boys--our boys.

To the daycare teachers, Sunday school teachers, Scout leaders, school teachers, counselors and other villagers I routinely turn my children over to, THANK YOU, for being worthy of my children.  Thank you for being the substitute mom when I can't be there, for kissing boo-boos, for teaching my children things that I may not be able to get through to them, for your unbelievable patience and unending understanding.  Thank you for being able to see past their little behaviors to the real Avery and Noah beneath, to nurture their true beings.

To my dearest friends, who love my children as their own, and allow me to love their children as my own.  It is an honor and a privilege to be "AMom" and have 5 extra kiddos under my wings.  I am so blessed by your presence in our lives.  I don't know if you will ever fully understand the impact your families have had on our family.  I love you so very much and you are so dear to us.


Happy Mother's Day to all the moms who reside in Left Field, and neighboring fields.  Ladies, you take the cake.  You work hard for your children, day in and day out.  I pray that sometime in the near future, we can all grab a full night's sleep.  To every mom who struggles every day for her child, who gets on her knees in prayer, who loves unconditionally and always grants her children the grace and mercy which they deserve: You are the true example to the rest of us.  Thank you.


And finally tonight, to all the moms with an empty chair at the dinner table, the moms who have had to bury their children:  There are those of us who will never be able to understand your pain, but our hearts will always grieve with you.  Some of us feel a certain emptiness in concert with your loss, even though it will never compare to yours.  Please find comfort in those of us who love you so much.  And for you, the children who have buried your moms, please know that you are understood and loved.  You are not alone; I know it's not the same, but you're never alone.

 "The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord turn his face toward you and give you peace." Numbers 6:24-26

The Engagement Ring and the Necklace

When Shawn and I were first married, we barely had enough money for a pair of $40 wedding bands.  I didn't get an engagement ring because we were a little busy buying more important things.  We really didn't even have an engagement, per se.  What we had was a positive pregnancy test, then about four weeks to plan a wedding!  Having dated in high school, having known each other for as long as we had, and dating again, we knew we were eventually going to get married, but Noah's arrival kind of helped hurry things along a bit!

Fast forward a bit....  Life happened, things got in the way and the engagement ring was just never important to me.  There was always something else we needed, a bill that needed paying.  A diamond ring just wasn't practical.

A few months before our fifth anniversary, Shawn started making a very big deal out of a package that I would need to sign for.  Computer parts, he kept telling me.  The day these oh-so-computer-parts were set to arrive via Fed Ex, Shawn had to drive me to a doctor's appointment in the city.  While sitting in the exam room waiting on my doctor, Shawn received an email notification that Fed Ex had attempted to deliver the package, but couldn't because we weren't home to sign for it.  I honestly, for the life of me, could not figure out what the big deal was over these computer parts.  I was so exasperated with him!  It was a Friday, so Fed Ex would deliver them on Monday, no biggie!  I still think we used some sort of time warp machine to get back home that afternoon, where Shawn began calling the Fed Ex people to find out which warehouse his computer parts package had been returned to.  Just his luck, it was right down the road, only about a 30 minute drive away, but the warehouse was closing in 20 minutes!!!  So yes, you guessed it--off we went, with Shawn driving like a mad man.  Over these computer parts.  Unbelievable.  We got his computer parts, got home, life settled down.  Whew.  That evening, we farmed Noah out to Shawn's brother and SIL so we could go out to dinner.  On the way to the restaurant, Shawn pulled over in the downtown area of our little town and suggested we take a walk.  Then, right in front of one of the prettiest displays in a floral shop window, my husband of almost five years dropped to one knee, pulled a small box out of his pocket, and with people gathering around to watch, Shawn told me how much he loved me, and that he'd marry me all over again in a heartbeat.  Yes, the "computer part" was my engagement ring.

It never bothered me that I didn't have a diamond, but unbeknownst to me, it had become a sticking point with my husband.  It was a matter of pride for him.  He'd researched everything he could find about diamonds, about diamond companies, about settings and everything else diamond.  He even measured my finger while I was sleeping one night.   No ordinary diamond ring would be good enough for Shawn's wife; I deserved the best.  It's definitely very pretty, but really, Shawn put so much thought and love into researching and purchasing my ring, that it's more beautiful than any other ring I've seen.  To me, it looked so big that I was afraid to wear it for weeks!  To my husband's chagrin, that "computer part" sat in it's box, tucked away in my jewelry box for quite a while.

Monday of this week, Shawn told me in passing that some new memory for his computer was on its way. I'd need to sign for it, blah, blah, blah.  Yep, okay honey, sure.  The box arrived today and I put on his desk without giving it a thought.

Truthfully, I wasn't expecting anything other than a kiss and a hug for Mother's Day this year.  We just had the driveway paved, we're doing some landscaping, and there are a gazillion other things that are more important than a gift I don't need.  So, when Shawn called the boys into his office to have them help him open his box of memory, I still was not catching on.  But, here it is, my beautiful, unexpected, thought-out Mother's Day gift.  I have to say, Shawn's always had pretty good taste in computer parts.

Sooner or later, if enough computer parts come in, I might eventually catch on to this wonderful little charade of his.

I'm Done, I'm Out, Day's Over, Week's Complete...

...and it's only Tuesday morning.


Another story from left field to make you feel a little bit better about your own day....


Noah left his phone out last night, and when Avery grabbed it while I was showering, I didn't think too much about it.  Noah has it passcode-locked, so there couldn't be too much damage Avery could get into with it, right?  I've had that gnarly flu nastiness that's going around, so I took my time showering, took my time drying off, got dressed, then decided it was probably time to chase Avery to get the phone back.  He told me he's talking to Noah so I took a detour through the kitchen to get a drink.  Isn't it cute how much fun he's having, pretending to talk to his older brother?  Avery informs "Noah" that Mommy's getting a drink, says "Shhh, I'm on the phone!" when I use the ice machine in the fridge.  Finally, I gave chase, got the phone from the giggling toddler and I hear, "Ma'am?  Ma'am?  Are you there?  I just need to verify some information with you!"  OMGosh.  WHAT???  HE CALLED 911.  He'd been talking with the dispatcher for 10 minutes while I took my time showering, drying off, getting dressed, getting my drink (which, I feel I should point out was water, before DHS and a deputy show up on my doorstep with a breathalyzer).  I confirmed my information with her, apologized profusely and explained what had happened as Avery screamed in the background because I'd taken the phone away from him.  She laughed (I'm sure she felt obligated to), said it happens all the time (I'm sure it doesn't), I apologized again for taking her away from her incredibly important job, prayed that we didn't hold up a truly important emergency call, thanked her for her unbelievable patience and understanding, and she reassured me that it will be the highlight of her day (gee, thanks).  


Kind of reminds me of the week I had to call Poison Control two days in a row and was gently reminded to keep things out of my child's reach.  "Um, I do.  He's just a very determined climber."

This kid isn't just giving me any old gray hairs, he's giving me WHITE hair.

I See You, and I Hear You

Last year sometime, there was some 'crisis' of sorts on one of the shows Shawn and I watch.  The parental couple started going through marriage counseling, and one morning during breakfast, after the wife spoke her opinion on a matter, the husband said to her, "I see you, and I hear you."  Their adult children were pleasantly mystified by this change in their father, and the crisis was solved.  If only real life were that simple.

When Shawn and I first saw that tv episode, I see you and I hear you kind of became a joke with us.  We saw and heard each other about everything, from passing the vegetables at dinner, to matters pertaining to the children.  And we had great laughs over it.  Then we realized, that even in our great marriage, we were missing the point.  Without even discussing it, we began to see and hear each other over the more serious matters.  Seeing and hearing each other has ended many arguments before they've even begun, prevented the I'm right, you're wrong and I told you so mentalities and just made us better with each other.  This became another way of telling each other that we love and care about us.

This has been a bad week for me.  My physical pain has been sky high.  Things get interesting when your body doesn't cooperate with your brain.  Throw some Vicodin in with that, and you've got a party.  My emotional pain has been a little on edge too.  I hurt, plain and simple.  I don't want to be fixed (well, okay, maybe just a little), I just want to be validated.

Shawn, God love him, just wants to fix me.  He wants me to laugh.  He wants my brain and body to cooperate with each other.  He wants the Vicodin back in the lockbox on the top shelf, where it belongs.  He just wants his wife back, plain and simple.  Not being able to slay what ails his wife leaves my dear husband feeling helpless.  He just wants to be validated in his tough-fix-it-manly-husbandness.

Shawn understands that no matter how badly he wants to fix me, he can't.  What he can do for me is see me and hear me.  And most of the time, that's what I really want, and that's all I really need.  In a way, being able to see me and hear me validates him and leaves him feeling less helpless.  When we both see and hear each other on these matters, we both feel better.

So often, that's all any of us really need.  When my friend and I talk, she knows I can't fix her problems, and sadly, no matter how badly I want to fix them for her, I know I can't.  What I can do though, is listen. I can validate her, her feelings, her emotions.  I can see her and hear her.  She does the same for me (and I am so glad she does).  We find ourselves saying something to each other, then saying, "Thank you.  I just needed someone to know that.  I just needed to be able to say that out loud."  We don't need to hear that we're wrong, we don't need to be judged for what we're saying, we don't want advice, or to hear I told you so.  Again, seeing and hearing each other, validating each other's feelings, is how we tell each other that we love and care about us.

When people comes to the center where I volunteer, they don't want to be fixed.  They come to us because they are tired of people trying to fix them.  They are tired of hearing they need to get over their pain or grief, that they need to move on with their lives, they are tired of unwanted advice and of being ignored.  What they want, is be to be seen and heard.

Imagine what this world would be like if we all took the time to see and hear each other.  How would it be if we truly stopped to see and hear the cashier who is having a bad day, the gentleman who holds the door open for us, the new mom with the baby who cries all night, the single parent who is exhausted?  Think about it....  Just a smile, a handshake, eye contact, even a hug.  That could be all it takes for that one person that day.

This is what God does for us.  I personally don't believe He is in the business of fixing, at least, not in the human sense.  Neither is he in the business of telling us I told you so.  Instead, He hears us and He sees us.  In doing so, He loves us unconditionally, He cares about us, He validates us as His children.  He never leaves us.  We are always important to us.  In hearing us and seeing us, we are daily granted His grace and mercy.  This is one of His many gifts to us.

Seeing a person and hearing a person tells them that we care.  It tells them that they, their feelings and their problems are important to us.  So often, this is a gift we can give each other, to just listen, to not talk, but to just be there with our eyes and ears, without judgement, without advice, without empty promises or fake compassion.