Tuesday, Bluesday
Well, at least that is what we call it for Streaks soccer practice
– on Tuesday, all of the kids where blue practice jerseys, on Thursday they wear
gray.
Today is Bluesday for another reason. The boys lost their Aunt Jenny as a second
mother, because she had to go home. She
was the perfect substitute for me, for a time in their lives when they had no
mom and dad close at hand. She got to
experience a watered down version of my life, and I hope it was not too hard on
her.
I called and talked to them before school, and was instantly
reminded that I was not there for the “Muffins with Mom.” We actually changed all of the school
functions (Muffins with Mom and Donuts with Dad) so that they would be gender
neutral for children who lacked mothers or fathers who could go – Donuts at
drop off, and Muffins in the morning help children not feel excluded, and
parents not feel sorry or guilty or sad.
I was crushed that I was not been able to attend.
At one school my children went to, all of the kids sat in the
cafeteria eating muffins, with their moms and I had a little girl across from
me, her eyes full of tears. Her sister
had gotten sick the night before, and there was no mom for her to eat muffins
with. I asked her if she could be my
daughter for the morning, because at the time, I had no girls, “And sweet
Sarah, I had always wanted a little princess, so if you would eat a muffin with
Michael and I, my heart would be so happy.”
And of course she was pleased, but I will never forget that tiny sad
face – not a big deal to adults, but it meant the world to her that she was
alone, and everyone had somebody.
The same thing happened at Kolbe’s Ho-Down at St. Bede a few years
ago – at the end, parents were supposed to come out and dance with their
kids. Well, there were several kids with
no parents there, so Kolbe and I grabbed all of the kids and they danced with Bear
Bear and I. I had one little girl with
crocodile tears pose for a picture with Kolbe because moms were taking photos
of their daughters dressed in cowboy attire, and you could tell that she wanted
a picture of herself in her gear that Kolbe let her borrow. Some people might say that I hover, and that
this is indulgent behavior, and that kids should not get everything they want,
but sometimes being with their mom or dad, and seeing pride in their eyes is
just what a kid needs. I always bring
extra stuff to events like that – extra hats, bandanas, vests, badges. Even with the school’s Christmas play this
year, I brought extra angel pieces, and animal pieces, and shepherds
stuff. We have it, and kids could use
it, so why not?
So I spent the day wishing I could be at my children’s school
functions while kicking a soccer ball for hours. When Benny fell asleep and slept for almost 3
hours, I was ecstatic – me time, alone time, quiet time. But I felt guilty for it. Everyone keeps saying that I get all of this
incredible bonding time with Benny, one-on-one time with him, just like with
the others. Truth be told, I only ever
had this much one-on-one time with Michael, the rest of my children always had
other siblings in the house.
I thought I was doing ok. I
emailed Paul, checked on the kids via emails, and started to get ready for bed
tonight. I was even confident that
everything would be easy and awesome. But
you know, the king of sin knows how and when to get you, and he finds a way,
every single time you start to have faith, and any time you accept God’s will,
to make you believe that you are too weak to handle it.
Tonight, he was in full out attack mode. We have an 8 AM apt at the embassy, and our
driver will be here at 7. Benny would
not fall asleep with the mosquito net on.
In fact, every night he starts yelling and screaming and kicks his way
out of the net, in his sleep, and I end up getting eaten, no matter how much
bug spray I put on. So I took a nice
cold shower (the only kind we get here) and finally felt clean. I sprayed myself with ungodly amounts of
mosquito spray, and laid down on the bed, and decided that I would not fight
him tonight. I put on enough bug spray
to sink a battle ship, so I will just say a prayer, and hope that I did not get
eaten. Besides, the net is brown with
use and smells of dirty feet, and sweat and cheap men’s body spray.
As I lay there, I became terrified of malaria. I then sat there wondering what would happen to me
if this oncoming headache was a sign of a stroke from inhaling too much
mosquito spray and lack of oxygen to the brain – then I would die alone, and
nobody would know how to find me, or who to contact. There is nobody that calls every day, nobody
that I check in with every night. I
start to wonder if I should hop up and create an emergency ID card for my
passport, or leave something at the front desk.
“If I do not come out of my room by 9 AM every morning, or if I am not
back here by sundown at night, then call so and so.” Even then, Paul never answers the phone at
work, and I do not have anyone else’s numbers.
“Hey, in case of an emergency, try emailing these 5 people, and
hopefully someone will get a hold of you within a day or two.” They are all 9
hours behind me, so if they were to call, they would be asleep, or at work
anyway. Gosh I am so weird.
Every time I heard a buzz, or felt anything on me, I would swish
and bat into the darkness. And then came
a migraine at midnight, throbbing in my neck and eyes. I wanted to get up and turn on the light and
find something to eat and drink, but was really worried about Benny waking up,
when sleep was so important for tomorrow.
Benny is a kicker, even in his sleep, he is rolling and flipping
and karate chopping the heck out of me, and inevitably ends of wrapped up in
the mosquito net, ripping the plastic mattress covers off of his side of the
bed, and then lands with a smack onto the tile floor, every night since we have
been here. Tonight was no exception, but
instead of getting up, he started screaming because his head was stuck under
the bed. So I had to get up anyway to
turn on the light anyway – God and his perfect timing.
Benny was back asleep immediately, and I was left batting at
mosquitos, trying to stare at the wall.
If I could just stare at the wall, with my painful throbbing eyes just a
tiny bit open, barely moving my neck, then the pain was there, but at least the
room was not spinning. If I tried to
brave sleep, and let me eyes close, my stomach would start reeling in my
throat. Then there is that, “maybe if I
take a bunch of big deep breathes, I can calm my nerves” idea, but pretty soon,
you are near hyperventilating and your stomach is worse. I chug water and Bayer Migraine, but no such
luck. I stare at the ceiling, but my
limbs are shaking. I probably already
have malaria, and my meds are barely keeping it at bay. Maybe I poisoned myself with too much bug
spray. Maybe it is the fact that I was
so happy because I got my first fan in Uganda to work, and Benny promptly tried
to ride it like a horse, while I was in the shower, and it broke into 5 pieces.
I lay on my side saying, “Jesus, I trust in you. Jesus I trust in you. Jesus I trust in you.” I opened my eyes, and was surprised to see the
image that I had forgot that I had hung yesterday at eye level, on the wall
next to the bed. I looked at Him and started to beg, shaking with the pre-going
to get sick feeling. “Please let me go
home. Please don’t make me get
sick. If I go home now, maybe I can just
come back and get Benny in a few weeks, when I am not sick, and not feeling
horrible, and don’t have malaria. Just
let me sleep on a clean mattress, with clean sheets in a bed that does not have
a ninja child in it, in a room that does not have killer mosquitos swarming
above my head. Just give me a fan to clear the air of this stench from the old
mattress and mosquito net. I promise I
will come back and get him. He will be
fine with Father Michael for a week or two.
Once I drop off the passport, I just have to sit here in this forsaken
room and do absolutely nothing anyway, so please, let me wait at home.”
And then embarrassed by my lack of control, and lack of
thankfulness, I cried a thank you. Tear
1, “Thank you for letting me serve this little boy.” Tear 2, “Thank you for giving me something to
offer up.” Thank you for only giving me
mosquitos and not tsetse flies. Thank
you for giving me some kind of warning before I get sick everywhere. Thank you for giving me a toilet in my room,
and not a whole in the ground like in the villages. Thank you for my family, my beautiful
children. Thank you for keeping them
safe. Thank you for guiding them. Thank you for letting me miss them because I
am in Africa, and not because they are in heaven. Thank you for this bottle of water for me to
clean up with. Thank you for letting me
be sick here because of medication and not from cancer or chemo or a major
illness. Thank you for a driver coming
in the morning instead of riding a boda boda with a child on my lap. Thank you for the $30 and the ability to pay
the driver when he comes. Thank you for
mosquito spray. Thank you for the people
at the embassy who have been quite OK so far, (please help them stay that way).
I think I will just stay up until 6 AM, and slowly count my thank
yous- thank you for the O’Grady family for loving me, thank you for Rachel for
loving me, thank you for the emails and the letters to my house…... If I say each one of them and slowly breathe
in and out, the sick feeling stays at bay.
I start to worry about falling asleep and ninja Benny chopping my
computer onto the floor, or me jumping up to get sick and stepping on it. Yep, it might be better to not close my eyes,
or let my imagination get ahead of me.
The temptation to despair is too great.
I think I will just stay up, and wake up Benny at 6 and wait for our
driver. Sleep can be highly overrated
and the mosquitos are not nearly as active in the heat of the day.
 |
| I wonder why the fan is broken |
 |
| no power means discovering flashlights |
Notes from my prayer journal: I tried not to worry at all today but as soon
as Jenny started messaging me and telling me that she was leaving, I began to
worry. I spent the rest of the morning
making a concerted effort to control the situation from abroad. Obviously that is impossible. So, instead of praying that X, Y and Z
happen, I started asking for conversion of my heart, that I will not worry, and
that I will accept these things that come, in return for greater protection
over my children, for the petitions dealt to me, and for the greater
sanctification of my marriage. I read
that if I fill my mind with the awareness of Christ’s Presence inside me, then
I leave no room for doubt and worry and guilt – slow deep breathes and lots of
“thank yous” help too.
“Who
of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Since you cannot do this very little thing,
why do you worry about the rest?”
-
Luke 12:25-26
And
just a good reminder for tomorrow:
“Be
joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is
God’s will for you in Jesus Christ.”
-
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Soundtrack song of the day – I Will Wait – Mumford and Sons
(Anyone in Montgomery, just an FYI, when I type out
the song, I say it in my head like the voice on the Gump, when the pre-recorded
voice goes through the playlist – it always makes me smile.)
Consecration to Jesus through the
Immaculate Heart of Mary, To be an instrument, rather, to be instruments, day
13
The Novena to the Divine Mercy, Day 4, non-believers
As
an added bonus:
“Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your
heart take courage; yea wait for the Lord.”
(Psalm 27:14) But when shall this
be? It’s hard for a mortal. It’s slow
for one who loves. But listen to the
voice that never deceives, of him who says, “Wait for the Lord.” Endure the burning of the reigns bravely, and
the burning of the heart valiantly.
Think not that what you do not receive has been denied. So that you do not give in to despair, see
how it is said: Wait for the Lord.” From
St. Augustine, Exposition on Psalm 27.
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