A refreshing break

I'm feeling good tonight. You really can't understand how good a normal day feels to me without knowing how miserable I've been recently. My general feelings of despondency the last few months were heightened immediately by pregnancy (in fact, my emotions were the first clue - I became pregnant in early May). This hasn’t had much to do with circumstances as much as my own, um, “inner turmoil.” The best of circumstances look bleak when you don’t care to give thanks for them. I prayed daily for strength to put one foot in front of another.


There is one circumstance, however, the heat, which has had a tremendous affect on me. I have experienced the worse morning-afternoon-evening sickness I’ve ever had. I have felt overwhelmed by everything. Just... everything. I have awakened every morning (except this last Sabbath, which was a deliciously cool, fall-like 66°) in absolute dread of the day, especially the heat. My stomach turns with nausea, cramps with the heat, my back has been hurting and I can’t help but think how much worse it will get as pregnancy progresses.......

It’s been bad.

I’ve been tempted to write, but have had nothing uplifting to say, only complaints and despairing emotions. Not a fun place to be. I've had bright spots; phone conversations with dear sisters, refreshing visits with friends, but as soon as they leave or I hang up the phone, the glow fades.

My faith has not been shaken, but strengthened. A friend shared with me yesterday something that encouraged her - the difference between faith and optimism. Just think on that for a bit. A light went on in my head. Yes! My optimism has taken a leave of absence, my ability to brush off the present with "this too shall pass," but my faith remains. Things might not get better, but I will always trust Yahweh, I will always hope in his Kingdom. I hope you can wrap your mind around the difference, even if my words don't do it justice.

Today, as usual, I awoke with dread. Another long, hot day ahead. I was sweating and feeling ill within ten minutes of rising. I went through the motions - barn chores, breakfast, then a short rest in the bedroom, with the fan on high. Crying softly as I looked out the window at the overgrown garden, the beautiful flowers and butterflies that I don't have the heart to enjoy (the garden is my sore point, I guess. A visible, obvious sign of my weakness, my inability to "get it together"). Crying softly over this pregnancy and feeling guilty, wishing I could focus on the blessed child ahead and not on the pain. Crying to my elohim, "I will not let you go. Please... do this work in me. I love you and trust you."

How do I explain this? This has not been a hopeless sort of, "Life sucks, kill me now" sort of despair. I wish I could say I have suffered strongly, quietly, without taking it out on those around me, but I can't. It feels like I'm riding out a storm. In the ocean. The ship has wrecked and all I have is the end of a rope (the hem of his garment). Waves crash on me, all I can do is hold on. I can scream and kick, weep and moan, but it doesn't change anything. The waves calm sometimes and the sun beats down and I'm too tired to move, not that there's anything I can do to change my situation. I just hold onto the rope. Don't let go of the rope. The rope is my lifeline, the substance of things hoped for. I didn't know faith could be so tangible, until now.

Back to today. No particular thing happened, but my burden began to lighten (sorry, changing allegories here). I ran some errands in town and realized, on the way in, that the heat didn't seem as hot (though it was). I saw past my discomfort and took genuine pleasure in my surroundings, the handsome countryside. Slowly. Gradually. There were a few little things that happened in town that helped, but... I dunno. I've had plenty of little things, it's just that today I was more receptive, for reasons I suppose only my Father knows. I like to think on these things... they make me smile. I have been entirely too focused on the bad things.

...The fact that I can send my 10yr old daughter into the feed store to buy a couple bales of hay. They know us and love us there. I can't say we are good friends, because those are so few and far between, but they are good acquaintances. Casual. Reliable. And the fact that my daughter is willing and eager to do this - I was terrified to go into a gas station to pay for gas when I was 18 (when I finally got up the guts to get my license). I hid in my mom's proverbial skirts when I was Farra's age.

... An older man in Walmart surprised us, made us laugh out loud in sheer delight. This was absolute silliness (right up our alley), but as we approached him from behind (he was in one of those motorized carts) to pass him - he hadn't even turned to look at us, mind you - he spoke to each one of the children as though he knew them and was thrilled to see them. He quickly assigned them each a name as we passed. "George! Fred! Clancy! Elwood! Burt! Louise!" That was it. It happened in just a moment and we turned the corner of the aisle in stitches, having rewarded him with smiles all around. (Commit REGULAR acts of kindness. Commit random acts of silliness.)

...When I stopped in our small, totally personable hardware store for some 1/2 gallon jars, it was again impressed on me... I love these small town stores, these reliable, comfortable people and relationships. Awhile back I had them order lye for me so I could try my hand at making soap. One older employee thought that was really neat and requested a bar to try out. He wasn't in when I delivered it, so today was the first time I'd seen him since. "Are you the lady that brought me the soap." Yes. "I really liked it."

... Our new librarian is a very interesting dear of a man. He is eager to get books for us and even suggests things we might find interesting. We've been discussing the lives of Laura Ingalls Wilder and her daughter. When I stopped by today I parked out front and let the older girls run in to drop off books and request some they knew he could get from another library. They came back smiling from their short visit with Bill and had a handful of papers for me with a sticky note on it, "For Kaleesha Williams." It was an article Bill had told me of, about Laura and her daughter, Rose. It was pretty interesting, but I was just very uplifted that he had thought to print it for me. It's a pleasant feeling to know people are thinking about you. And not thinking bad things.

We had quick junk food for lunch and I put a roast in the crockpot for dinner, then took a nap. It was hot, but the heat still wasn't bothering me very much. We do have an AC in the bedroom upstairs, but it doesn't do a very good job when it gets this hot. However, it does take the edge off for naptime, so we keep it going from morning until after naps, and I just stretch out on one of the kids bunk beds. Royal and Little went to sleep without much ado (Little usually throws everything out of her crib, including her bottom sheet, and runs around and sings and does belly flops and all sorts of antics to make Royal laugh. Cute, but hard to sleep through).

Bobby and the older kids worked on cleaning up the yard while I rested. After naps, a snack, moving kinda slow because of the heat but feeling noticeably better than usual, then I grabbed my apron and sunhat, a jug of ice water, and we headed out to the garden. With dinner in the crockpot it freed me up considerably. I'm going to try to this more often because it's only cool enough to work in the garden in the morning, when my back hurts too much, and the evening, when I'm usually busy with dinner and barn chores, clean up and bedtime.

I'm pleased to announce that we have reclaimed our tomato patch. Bobby mowed all the paths down, I cut suckers and pulled weeds while Farra tied plants to stakes. Atira and Seth laid down a nice, thick mulch of straw to keep the weeds down. (The littlest Willies splashed in the kiddie pool.) The plants were seriously set back by their neglect, but I feel pretty good about them now. The plants are heavy with green fruit and I found myself daydreaming about fresh tomatoes, especially on pizza! I had forgotten that all the garden work pays off in delicious food. (Well... I admit to thinking of the potatoes and corn and how I wouldn't get to eat much of them because of the gestational diabetes.) We harvested our red cabbage - again, a little too late and the heads were starting to open and get tough, but enough for our meager cabbage needs. And the goats loved the extra leaves.

I actually ENJOYED working in the garden this evening. When dinner was set on the table and everyone seated but me (of course), Seth, unbidden, jumped up to pull my chair out for me to sit down. I don't know if he's ever even seen this done! My heart swelled at this sweet gesture. Even Bobby was touched. As Bobby blessed the meal, tears of overwhelming gratitude began to fall from my eyes and I had to excuse myself for a few minutes. I wept and wept in my bedroom, though much different from the sad tears of this morning. A floodgate of thanksgiving to my Father for his many blessings, for lifting my burdens this day. And repentance for my ingratitude. A deep part of this was an understanding that tomorrow I may be lost in the stormy sea again, but that that's okay, as long as I cling to that faith. It's alright, if he's in control. If this is what I need, it's what I need, and I will rest and learn and grow in Him.

Now, it's eleven o'clock and I should be sleeping. Farra's evening report on our hugely pregnant heifer is that she is leaking milk. Her bag has just gotten bigger and bigger and every night we expect a calf (Farra sleeps out in her hammock, near her, determined not to miss a thing), and we have had no other signs - and no calf! So, I should get some sleep, just in case I have to get up in the wee hours.....

Goodnight, people!