Friday, March 27, 2015

Button hell

 I think we all have different visions of what hell will be like.  
Some say it will be hot, dark, gloomy, horrible, smelly, and secluded.
Really, the list goes on and on and on.

This is what hell looks like to me:
Flat objects are the hardest most frustrating things for my fingers to pick up.
Sometimes when I go to the store and use cash, 
I panic for fear the cashier will accidentally miss my hands and the
 coins crash to the counter.  Then I will spend several minutes trying to 
pick up the change and then I will get really hot and sweaty and then 
I will probably say: "go ahead and keep the change."
It's happened before--several times.
Today Lottie dropped the button box.
That's when I decided I was in hell.
*******
Happy Weekend!
 *******
Also, have you seen these darling state cuffs from The Vintage Pearl?
They are perfect!  

Thursday, March 26, 2015

Music to my ears.

I have a wooden box on my kitchen table 
where all of our Easter eggs live.
Lottie's favorite thing to do is climb on the table and play with them.
When Lottie plays with the eggs in the box, she's content long enough
for me to:
Get the dishes in the dishwasher, 
wipe down counters, sweep the floor, and if I am extra lucky- 
(like; if I give her a few pennies or small trinkets to put inside the eggs),
 I can mop the floor too.

Also going on at Fox Hill:
Claire is helping Jane register and pick out classes for middle school.  
They will be together next year, and we are all so excited.
Oliver got some new shoes and asks me every morning before school
 to use the magic eraser on the white parts so they stay clean.
Nicholas has several jars out on the porch with different 
types of bugs inside them.  He keeps them overnight and lets them go
in the morning while Lottie watches.
It's pretty cute.

All of this is music to my mother ears!

Wednesday, March 25, 2015

Strong legs

 
Today while on my daily hike, I waved to a woman
 who I frequently see on the trail.
She is slower hiker, but always makes it to the top of the trail.
I passed her on the way up and smiled (since both of us have earphones in).
She smiled back and made her usual facial expression 
which showed exhaustion, but determination.
Several minutes later after I had made it to the top, I was on my way down 
and I passed this woman again.  
This time she waved her hands and gestured to me to take my earphones out.
So I did, and she said in between breaths:
"Wow!! If only I had your strong legs..."
I appreciated her words of kindness and encouragement probably
 more than she will ever know.
If only she knew that just a few short years ago, I couldn't even stand up or
stretch my legs without horrible pain or ripping my skin off. 
If only she knew the bleeding, the surgeries, and the therapy I endured.
If only she knew that most of the skin that covered these babies 
were from other parts of my body, 
and some skin was grown in a incubator in Boston; and surgically grafted on.
If only she knew the thousands- no millions of tears I shed while recovering 
and pushing myself harder and harder to get better.
If only she knew the billions of prayers I offered up to 
God to sustain and carry me when my legs couldn't.
These sweetheart legs of mine have been through some tough stuff, 
but without fail they carry me up all kinds of mountains every single day-
without a single complaint (mostly). 
I realize they are not "attractive" or "normal", but they are MY LEGS! 
And they work just fine. 




 I'd never trade these babies in.  They are proof I am a survivor,
and I can do hard things.
And I have the scars to prove it.


(Albion fit wear)
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