Numbers

:: 18 are the days we have been fighting sickness in this house.

::  12 are the washcloths that, for the first time ever, had to all be washed together...

::  4 are the feverish brows these washcloths soothed

::  8 are the boxes of tissues we have used (though some (aka Ben) say I have used) in these past two weeks.

::  2 are the bathrooms that were in desperate need of cleaning

::  10 (more or less) the loads of laundry that have been needed to catch up with life

::  2 are the thermometers we have been using

::  2 are the bottles of ibuprofen we have opened, one was emptied half way through

::  104 was the highest temperature registered by yours truly

::  99 and 100 seem to be the thermometers´ favorite number to show

::  8 are the days my sweet Adriana has been fighting the fevers, just as I did

::  1 is the man who has lovingly cared for me through this ordeal

::  4 are the sweethearts that my heart holds dearly and

::  Countless are the prayers that have been whispered in the dark

My last farewell

I will share with you a rough English version of the poem I spoke about in my previous post.  Please bear with me, I am only a poet´s grand-daughter and in Spanish, at that.  I just wanted to share the essence of the outlet I feel God gave to my pain in those dark hours.  The words followed by an * are actually the titles of her published books. 

The hands of a child, all covered in ink

Watched as you grow in traces of words

Squeezed out your sap, reach out in drops

of pencil and paper; of rhythm and word.

The Leaves of your Life* you filled out with poems

You printed your story in only one Dawn*

A Path* you created with Jewels of your Soul*

And Your Self* in verses you let us see.  

In order to know you one must read your poems

For your greatest passions are sheltered in them

Your love for life, every one of your memories

And every one beat of your heart

Inquisitive mind, and a restless soul!

for weapons a pen, a cane and a shawl

all your daily rambles you turned in adventures

And with the marimba we always saw you dance.

We bid you farewell into eternal rest

Wearing your white suit and all of our love

Go dance your marimba in heaven itself

By glory transformed, no cane anymore!

Thank you, Mamita Zoila, for your beautiful heritage!

My Grandmother

The time for a final good-bye came and found me in the most bizarre of places-situations... then again, is there ever an opportune time for such a thing?  Alas the time came and I was in a feverish fog unable to think right or do anything right for that matter.

My grandmother, Mamita Zoila, was not your typical grandmother.  She was not one to sit a grandchild on her lap and tell them stories.  There was no old armoire full of trinkets and treasures enveloped in memories and stories.  No, instead, she had a mind thirsty for knowledge and a restless nature.  I believe it was that restless spirit that led to her writing.  She was a poet.  I don´t have many childhood memories with her, she was always on the go, it was nearly impossible for a little child to keep up with her!  But the first time I fingered through her book of children´s poems, she was frozen in time for me.  I could hear her voice telling me about the rooster, and the flea, and the spider, and the hen and so many other animals.  I´d hear her chuckle in the funny parts, I´d read as much or as little as I wanted, she was right there, at the tips of my fingers.

By the time I was 10, I had moved on to her other books.  Half the poems I still didn´t quite understand, but did manage to memorize one of my favorites and say it in class for an assignment.  When I asked her about the poem she told me how she and my grandfather had had a "long distance courtship" of sorts.  They were a few hours apart and a rumor had reached her that he´d been seen with someone else.  At her inquiry, her hopeful heart made her wait for the postman to deliver a letter that would appease her jealousy.  The postman  came and went, no letter for her and she was devastated.  She thought it was all over... later that day, my grandfather, himself was at her door to dissipate her doubts.  The stories those poems told about her and my grandfather, in the mind of a 10-y-o-l were simply idyllic!  The grandfather I never met became this romantic, handsome man who managed to win her heart.

So as the years went by  I found my grandmother in those pages.  Through her poems I felt loved and I got to know her.  Her books are out of print, and I don´t own my own copies.  My Mom´s copies, which I had to leave behind upon coming to live my own adventure, provided for endless hours of "conversations" (of the rhyming type) between us.  I learned about her beliefs, her faith, her passions, even her escapes from reality into an ideal world.  She was quite the philosopher and thinker, and though we never discussed it, I dare say I caught a glimpse of her own theology.  I sat with those books for hours and hours and on the rare occasions that I had her to myself I'd ask questions about the secrets hidden in those lines.  She loved to talk about her poetry!

Since I had found in her poems a vehicle into her world, it was only natural that I'd attempt to write my own.  There, I found yet another connection to her.  I discovered our own language of love.  She'd praise my meager attempts, and with my wrist in one hand and her cane in the other she'd look into my eyes and recite yet another poem of her own.  To those who didn't know her, those who didn't know me, it was a simple exchange of words... to me, it was that grandmotherly touch I so longed for as a child.

As a young adult I learned more about her pains, her anxieties and even her confusion through the same poems that took me through the world of romance.  Then she became vulnerable, even more real and I was sobered into the world of adult life with its troubles and hardship.  There is one prayer she wrote in a poem to the "Lord of the High" , such a beautiful depiction of a heart that longed to walk with Him.  This became a very constant companion these last few weeks as I prayed for her, for her eternal rest, for her final deliverance into the embrace of the Father.  I wish I could share it with you... I probably will, in Spanish, and try to give you the gist of it, I just know it won't do it any justice...  I wish you could have known her the way I did...

Like I said before, the news of her passing found me buried in bed with barely the energy to lift my head and take my medicine every three hours from the loving hands of my man.  He couldn't even stay long enough to hold me, I couldn't even cry as much as I wanted... I was lost in a feverish darkness where my spirit wrestled with all those things that cannot be explained.  My body ached, but above all... my heart ached...  but just as labor pains are for life, I prayed, and I prayed until something was born out of my pain.  A poem.  My good bye... a caress to the soul of that bright spirit that awoke my mind to the blank canvas of a piece of paper and the magic that can be performed with the traces of a few letters.  In my loneliness and my darkness, God gave me a voice to let out my pain, and for that I am infinitely thankful.

Thank you all for your prayers, your support, the cards, the meals, the quick facebook blurbs, the phone calls, the popsicles (not melted at all!), the hands that have reached into my home and touched me by ministering to mine... as soon as I'm not contagious I will hug you really hard and only hope that will tell you loudly how much I love and appreciate you... thanks for walking through this with me, thanks for being a part of my own little world!

Getting better

Here we are.  I am on day six and we're still fighting fevers.  My own, and now Elena and Adriana's.  Ben is still holding out and it is my prayer he remains healthy because he is the only very-tired-but-healthy-individual in this household.  Little Ben is past the fevers and has been left with the runny nose and cough now.  I am feeling a little better but exhausted!

I´ve had little nurses come to share their snugglies with me, bed-side stories about flying cups, flying any-thing-you-can-imagine to put me to sleep; little hands that pull the blanket up to my neck, take my glasses off, rub my head and pray for me.

There has been a LOT of this...  My man is such a good, loving man.  He takes such good care of me and his children.  He gives so much!

and then there´s been lots of playing around in pj´s and any outfit the girls can come up with!

See you soon!

Crushed down but not destroyed...

...very, very crushed, it feels.  This fever is being relentless and I am tired.  Tired and heart broken.  I can´t even hold my husband and cry my heart out because he is taking care of the children.  He has been wonderful, faithfully delivering medicine, food, juice, tissues and as much comfort as can be offered while leaving the little ones downstairs by themselves.   He is the best!  The poor guy took over an already messy house and has been keeping life going for the children while I "rest".  He is tired, I can tell.  He has spent the last couple nights downstairs with the little man. The girls have been so cute in trying to make sure I rest and checking in on me.  They´re the sweetest.  And my little man is now Daddy´s little man.  He has only nursed twice in the past couple days.  Last night I got him changed here in my bed while Ben put the girls down and he got upset when he saw his Dad leave the room.

At any rate, I wanted to write this to thank you all for your support and your love through these crazy days.  I can´t even begin to explain my heart, so I won´t.  Please keep your prayers coming, we need them desperately... I need them desperately.

In less than an hour my grandma´s body will be laid to rest.  I will not stand by my dad´s side while he puts his mom to rest.  I will not be with my brothers and cousins as they share memories and grieve the loss.  Instead, I lay here in my bed.  Maybe I will  understand it on the other side of heaven, so for now, just pray for me, will you?

Sick day(s x ?)

Well, I first spoke of the new revelation of grace, now I get to walk it through.  Remember how I told you my sweet boy had been sick and I hadn't slept for a few nights.  Yeah, so Monday I wasn't feeling too well, but figured it was due to the lack of sleep the previous nights.  Now it turns out I caught whatever bug my sweet boy has.  Of course!  What else could come, me sleep deprived, the sweet little man shooting the most juicy sneezes known to human beings... you do the math.

So I figured I'd take a sick day.  Everybody does, right?  First, I didn't know where to hand in my proverbial "memo".  My husband would have been the most logical person, but I knew he had a very busy day ahead.  He had very graciously and lovingly canceled a meeting yesterday to come rescue me and afforded me a couple hours of sleep.  But hey!  I was feeling pretty miserably yesterday and had no clue today was going to be even worse!  But let's get back on track... no hope in giving him my memo.

He did instruct the children (this was very cute by the way) to help me and "take care of me" (whatever that means to a 5 a 3 and a 1 year-old)

**************
I am picking this up more than 24 hours after I stopped because I was feeling so sick.  After we couldn't get my fever below 101 even while on tylenol and ibuprofen, we went to the doctor.  I am fighting the flu (stay away from my house!).  We came home and since then I have been in bed, my husband has taken over the care of the children downstairs.  He spent the night with the baby downstairs last night and at this rate, my sweet boy will be weaned by the end of this, I'm afraid.  I haven't seen him in 12 hours.  My heart aches.

Prayers are appreciated as my body keeps fighting this beast.  I may not keep you posted, but I'll see you again when I'm better.

I´m back

Hello there.  Thanks for coming back with me, I appreciate it.  For my come-back I had an amazing post planned; one that would inspire, challenge and invite you to keep coming for more.  Alas, due to a sick little person, I have slept very little in the past three nights and now the powerful words I had stored in my brain are missing.  Lost... Somewhere between "How much tylenol should I give a 25lb-1-year-old", "What should I wear today since I am functioning as a tissue?", and "Oh yeah, we´re not fasting any more, I have to cook real food!" I seem to have misplaced them.  Sorry.

The one word that does come to mind and I know was supposed to be in said post is GRACE.  As I have stepped into this new year and left the old one behind, I have been reminded afresh of the beauty of grace...  the unfathomable reality of undeserved favor...  the perfect and amazing love of the Bestow-er... and the power of the Gospel.

I have been challenged to remember that my good works are to be a result of the love for my Father, an act of worship, and not an attempt for approval... His or anyone else´s.

I have been challenged to remember that worship is, consequently, a lifestyle and not a compartmentalized action.

I have been challenged to bear in mind that I am called to share this grace, above all things, to the little souls that are entrusted to my care.

So, off I go to wipe the nose of a little man of God... that´s one of the faces of grace in this home today!

The First of the Year

Dear Readers, however many or few:  Thank you for walking down memory lane with me as I reminisced about the gifts this last decade left us.  It was quite the walk and recount of so many blessings!  I loved it.  I hope you did too.

I want you to know how much I appreciate the time you give out of your life to read me.  I hope I have made your time worthwhile, hopefully with some encouragement, inspiration maybe? ok, if nothing else at least entertainment ;o)

As of tomorrow I will be taking a break hiatus (don't you like how that word sounds?) from blogging... I want to start the year on a good foot and a week of seeking God and His will for this year is the most appropriate way I know.  I want to be a good stewardess of my time (and yours).

Please hold me in prayer as I seek and wait on life to unravel (more about that in due time), and meet me here again a week from today for a fresher me, if nothing else... would you?