Story

I've been thinking about this a lot lately. About writing a story. People have told me for a long time that my gift is in writing, I have yet to fully believe the truth in it as I read so very many exceptional pieces by people with far more extended vocabulary than I. But aside from actually typing out the next best seller, I want to write a great story by the life that I live. I want it to be a page turner, I want my grandchildren to brag to their friends at school about the infinitesimal adventures of their grandparents. Truth be told though, I am too scared to live a life like that, too scared of the risks involved to write something great with my life. I heard recently that in a great story, the protagonist has ambition, and the goal of that ambition, if it is really good, involves risk. The best involve risking your life. I want this so badly, I don't want to leave this earth and have people say I lived a "good" (translate: boring) life, that I raised "good" (translate:lacking creativity) children. I want to be a pioneer of something, to introduce newness to people, or stand up for the underdog in a way that changes them and me and my family forever. The issue here is, I'm not sure what I'm passionate enough about to live out in this way. I'm not giving up on it, I'm going to pray and search and seek out what my something in life is...and I'm going to live it. I'm going to write the next great novel with the steps I take everyday.

A day of firsts!

Today we had rice cereal. Asher was absolutely ecstatic to finally get to put stuff in his mouth in the same manner Mom and Dad and Franklin do. I love these little moments of newness, Asher reminds me every day not only to savor my time with him, but to see the wonderment in the everyday ordinary. I was never a windows and doors open person before, but since having him I can't stand to let all the marvelous sunshine go to waste on sidewalks and patios. I want to breathe in every bit of life and nature and the unique antiquity of the breeze and clouds and sky. Asher brings me smiles and sunshine and a new outlook on just about everything, the very nature of God is revealed every time he smiles.

Oh, and I have opened the comment posting for all to use, so please, if you read this, comment and let me know what you think!

remember

I want to remember this. This sweet and beautiful time in life as Asher's mother, Corey's wife, all the new and wonderful moments I experience every single day. I want to remember what it feels like to be laying in bed with Asher gently breathing in the crook of my arm, his warm and grace filled father peaceful there next to us. How I just can't kiss the soft place on Asher's neck, just below his ear, nearly enough. It's these little bits of heaven that I covet every day. Things like what I saw even now, sitting here typing, looking over at Asher in his bouncy seat. How upon catching my eye he let out a coo and smile. That sweet, genuine, beautiful smile. I am just so certain, I could never do anything in life to deserve such greatness, it is a good gift, the very manifestation of the Eucharist of the Lord laid out just for me, just because it's what he knows my heart craves. The desire of the very depth of me.

pandemonium

Yesterday I did something absurd. I went, to the zoo. Not just on any day mind you, I decided to go on half priced day....during spring break. It. Was. Ridiculous. A learning, however, in many many aspects. First, I learned that a 4mo can only stomach the stroller for a max of 2 hours before fits ensue. I learned that a 4mo could care less that we are even at the zoo. I learned that a lion roars WAY too loud for comfort. I learned that it is very, VERY important to teach your children to keep to the right when walking! I almost had a conniption in my frustration at the lackadaisical parents who seemed to find it vital to stop their stroller caravans in the absolute middle of the path, keeping all other zoo goers halted in a bumper to bumper stroller traffic jam. I learned that cotton candy can soothe a harried mother's inner anguish and help her keep her sanity. It was like manna from above that I had scheduled my first ever professional massage for just a few hours after my zoo nightmare, I'm fairly certain my shoulders were up to my earlobes, tense and exasperated by the end of the visit, whispering to my inner parts that an outing on a beautiful day is NOT supposed to make one feel as I did. In my frenzy I didn't even take a single picture (it would have been of Asher in the stroller anyway, he didn't exactly pose with the animals), so the experience will only remain etched in my mind as a day I'd rather not live again. The full ticket price on a random Tuesday would have been far far more worth it.

Learning

I never knew that there was so very much that can go wrong in parenting, no wonder this world is brimming in abundance with hurting, empty, confused people. Corey and I are taking a 12 week parenting class called "Growing Kids God's Way" and I just attended my first GEMS meeting (Godly Encouragement for Moms) and I am just blown away by how much insight the Bible really has for developing the inner most parts of children. My deepest, most gut wrenching desire is for Asher not only to be a "good" person, but to shed a light in the darkness most others see. I want him to learn to make right choices not just when I'm around, but even when no one else is watching. It's daunting to think that I have been given this lofty responsibility, that together Corey and I are at the helm of a ship that will either forge through uncertain territory, or sink at the faintest hint of trouble; that Asher's ability to make wise decisions, to love allgenuinely, will rest predominantly on us. I don't want him to feel condemned to embrace only those around him who are like minded, the same color, with the same philosophies, as unfortunately can be the norm in Christian communities. I don't want him to feel the need to fight his fellow man because they oppose his beliefs, for God created ALL people, and he said that they are all good. My dream is that he will accept and relish in the enormous differences among the masses, that he, through an intense and unrelenting acceptance and love, would win many over for Christ. My thoughts linger on Deut. 6:6. That the commands given to us are to be upon our hearts, we are required to impress them upon our children not as forced mandates but because they are an intrinsic part of our daily living. That responsibility is huge, and I can't help but doubt my own nature, my own inability to live to the level of godliness and morality to which I am called. And yet, I remind myself, I can do ALL things through Him who gives me strength.

More Health News

Well. The medical community is frustrating the mess out of me. Let me indulge.

Tue, 3/4--I take Asher to the doc, she says he's just stuffy, it'll run it's course
Fri, 3/7--Asher starts coughing frequently so I take him back in. This time the doc diagnoses him with RSV. I officially begin to freak. We give him the nebi 3X a day, nothing changes. Mon, 3/11--Asher goes to a new clinic, I want a second opinion. I finally see a doc who runs numerous tests and actually takes time to look him over thoroughly. Asher DOES NOT have RSV!!!! He may have allergies, asthma or at the worst, cystic fibrosis. He is prescribed a steroid.

So now a week has gone by and we still have no answers but my faith is moving in the right direction. Asher is full of life and energy and fun and yes, still phlegm, but he is vital. I am certain that the Lord has his health in mind, Asher is worth more than many sparrows. Please continue to keep him in your prayers, thank you all for the love and support that you have brought as incense before the Lord.

deep thoughts...by Asher Daniels

baby update

Me and My Nebi

Several days into his illness and Asher remains unchanged. He is extremely congested, wheezy and eager for rest. We are doing thrice daily nebulizer treatments and trying to keep him full of fluids. My heart sinks to a depressing depth each time I have to put that tiny little oxygen mask over his sweet face. He looks up at me with such sweet, trusting eyes. I am at peace that God will heal him, but frustrated as I'm feeling that my prayers are going unheard or at least unanswered. I don't want to be a bratty Christian that just expects God to hand me the answers to all my prayers on a silver platter, but it hurts to cry out to Him day and night for your child and see no change. Still, I know his view of this situation is far more extensive than mine, that He does all things to mold, shape and refine us. (Rom 8:28)

creatures of light

I just read a great post on Nate Killoren's blog, I often nanny for his 6mo Liam. Here's the link...http://www.ngkilloren.com/wp/?p=205. It's comforting to read that some one at the NY Times acknowledges the work done by people of faith, though we don't serve expecting glory.

emotional tides

So my little man really is sick, and it's an ache in my heart. The doctor today diagnosed his raspy condition as a mild form of RSV, a virus common among infants born in the winter months. We came home after the visit and Asher just wanted to sleep and snuggle. We rested together with him on my chest moaning quietly in his discomfort, emotion building up like a tidal wave in my heart, ready to pummel away any remaining steadiness. My child being sick is like a broken part of me. I know this illness is common, due to run its course, that many women have experienced far worse conditions with their children, but it doesn't make it any less dramatic for me. I want to create a magic pipe to funnel out all the sickness from his chest, wave a wand of healing to suppress the wretched cough terrorizing his tiny esophagus. Alas, it's all futile. The best medicine I have for him and myself is prayer, petitions to the one who can heal all, even my troubled, worried maternity.

a hoarse is a hoarse of course, of course

My poor little peanut is "sick." Here he is bundled to the max to ensure he doesn't have to endure any nap time drafties. I parenthesize the ailment because he hasn't changed his every day felicitous demeanor one bit, he has no fever, no accompanying symptoms, he just coughs. And coughs. AND COUGHS. He sounds like a 65 year old chain smoker. All else remains, though muffled. He still smiles and flails like crazy when anyone makes eye contact, babbles his sweet coos of recognition when Corey or I give him one on ones and is still crazy legs in his Johnny Jump Up. His little cough and breathy voice are just the saddest things I've had to endure with him yet, but he doesn't let this little crook in the road slow him down. In fact, he gives me deeper understanding into why Christ asks us to become as little children. How many of us, if stricken with a loss of voice, would constantly pine for the sympathy of others, pathetically displaying our sickness for all to see? But not Asher, he remains, he pushes on, loves fully and just sleeps a little extra hard. Would it not that we could all do the same...

On a brighter note, Corey has had a recent bout of encouragement from a doc at the Duke Neurosurgery program. He contacted a gentleman who happens to be a part of the sister church to ours there in Durham who all but performed summer saults to help this MS3 he's never met. Corey is eager to get his application to rotate there in the mail and for an opportunity to preview the program. All things said, Durham seems to be a beautiful city and a wonderful place to raise children, though it be miles away from any family and any familiarity. The one thing I know is that if God has us destined there, or anywhere, the path will clear itself, the briers of indecisiveness with wilt and we will be certain that we are in the very place we were meant all along.

Tornado Saturdays, Whirlwind Sundays

The weekend is a whirlwind for the Daniels' family here in Fort Worth. Saturdays begin with work at Starbucks for mom (which is a task I thoroughly enjoy), and alone time for dad and baby (which he is beginning to enjoy and grow confident in). Usually I'm set to rush the short stint home to spend some emphatic time with my Medela and kiss my sweet husband hello. We undoubtedly have a date or a major list of errands to run and then the day disburses like pollen on the wind. Sundays are even more erratic than the prior, with breakfast, coffee and church filling up the day til 1pm. Then it's some much needed down time with our soulmate friends, the Roberts, with whom Corey, Asher and I are boundlessly in love. Then parenting class from 4-6, home by 7 (sometimes!), dinner, couch time, baths and showers for all, clean-up for the upcoming week and on a lucky day, bed by 1130. Busy busy life, but I love every minute of it, refusing not to savor the delicacies of love and friendship and learning; taking in daily the afternoon sky in it's faded work shirt blue. Asher grows daily more and more into a real boy with over the top energy and a knack for exclamatory speech when everyone else is required to be silent. I've found him now, on multiple occasions, letting me know he's ready to get up from slumber by flopping over onto his back and screaming a full throttle wail of discontent at his self-inflicted state. Yet as soon as I enter the room, the bellow turns to joy, and a smile, and all is suddenly very, very right with the world.