Sunday, July 6, 2008

Ask and You Shall Receive

I think my migraine is sitting out there, just on the horizon....watching my every move...waiting. So I'm feeling a little discombobulated. (Yes that's a word. My momma said so. I think she made it up herself which is kinda fun.)So this blog posting may be a bit choppy. But so be it.

My fears about hubby are back. Oh and how I love him so the fear just seems to be eating me alive. He's got PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder.) It's not from war or combat, but from some other closer to home things that have happened. He's also a volunteer fireman here in our little town, a job that he LOVES. But being in a small town means that more often than not, our firemen are likely to run calls on people they know. He's been on self-inflicted gunshot wounds to the head of a high school buddy of his. Worked CPR on a dying old man, while his childhood teacher sat peering over his shoulder crying, pleading for him to not give up. He's worked fully involved house fires that burnt everyone inside, people we had had lunch with the day before. He's been on motorcycle accidents which are some of the worst. Last summer it all started to catch up with him though. In three weeks, he ran three calls, all were vehicle accidents, all three people died, and he knew each one of them. One was of these was a young girl L. L was a girlfriend of a fellow fireman. L was different and the beauty of her soul was captivating. She had just BEAT brain cancer. BEAT it. She was hit by a drunk driver as she was walking home from her boyfriend's house. Hubby was the one who found her...down at the bottom of the ravine, with a deep laceration from under her ribs to her hip bone. He rolled her over so he could carry her back up to the road. He found 2 things: one that she was dead, and two that he knew her. When we went to her funeral, the memory card they handed out had her picture on it. In that picture she was wearing the same sweatshirt she was wearing when she was killed. Hubby hasn't been the same since. So the PTSD comes in waves and is more prevalent during other stressful times, and lack of sleep. I got a call on Thursday from someone who had seen him and they said that hubby "was not good." I booked it home. He'd had a panic attack, and his panic attacks are frightful. That was Thursday, today is Sunday and he's ok today. I know that he's worried about his surgery coming up. Mentally I don't know that he will make it. Either to the surgery or out of the surgery. =(

Friday was middle bebe's birthday. She's a fire cracker baby. She got to ride in the parade and eat pancakes at the fire house. Uncle J took her swimming. (4th of July is difficult for me for a few specific reasons. Oddly enough each of my bebe's birthdays is either on the anniversary day of a death of someone, or is directly related to a death. More on this in another post....) Saturday we had some little friends over to Petroglyph for some painting and sandwiches and cupcakes. The rest of Saturday was spent packing to send middle bebe to camp on Sunday. It was go go go. Here's a picture of bitty bebe on the 4th. Isn't she cute?
We made it to church today and parts were good, other parts not so much. I was though particularly moved by the closing song. Make me, mold me, fill me, use me. I give my life to the potter's hand. Plus it's a very pretty song. Make me, break me is what I was praying. I so badly want to be in control. I know I need to be broken and knit back together. I was feeling very good about this openness with God. I did not mean for him to take it literally though. (Is he up there just laughing at me?) I went to get bitty bebe from the nursery at church. As I walked in I was struck with how cute she was and I was in awe. Then I was struck by the door that was closing whether I wanted it to or not. Right on my knuckle. YEEEOOOWWWWW! Flipping finger. That's what my recent cursing like a sailor self said in my head. But it wasn't my flipping finger, actually, it was my pointer finger. It caught right on the part of the door where the locking part sticks out to latch. So. Moral of this story. Ask God to break you and he'll break your finger. Ok, so maybe not exactly like that, but come on. My finger is broken. And that is LAME.

Middle bebe (right) and her best friend Little B made it to camp this afternoon just fine. They were SO excited. Next week big bebe is going. Next year I've got to plan this better and send them the same week. Oh that would be a beautiful sanity rescuing week.

On a side note, cause life likes to pull a quick one-two once and a while. Think good thought for me if you would. Prayers would be appreciated. I go in this Friday for my own MRI. 2 things actually that both warrant an MRI. So they'll check 'em out at the same time.

I'm getting to bed early tonight. Hoping that migraine doesn't creep any closer. Hoping I'll be a nicer more level headed person in the morning when I wake up. Praying that peace and rest and resolve find a happy little home in my soul tonight.

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