Homecoming!

Oh that dear Ezra? Calls from camp, "Mom, I fell out of the tube, but I'm okay." That was 3 days ago, no news was good news in my mind, until I saw lips of blue getting off of the bus.

Where does mother's mind go, to see the blue lips? He totally shrugged me off and went into the building. He is walking, he is talking, my mind checks off the other life signs that are evident, so as not to go ballistic in an inquiry as to why my son came back with blue lips.

I whisper a prayer for the mothers whose lot it was to receive the reality of my overactive imagination, in this case. Thank you God, Ezra took out the bottle of blue candy that was the culprit for causing the maternal anxiety attack that nearly just happened. Thank you God that you remember why, when no one else can identify with this consistent and constant struggle of life. Yes, I am still taking my medicine and all the more when an Ezra man goes to camp.

nk God these young men are aware of their mother's oversensitivity to these mild episodes of crazies. I didn't really have an episode, but the yank of the heart that is growing up of the littlest fellow in my home is a season of real and important self-stock. Will you ever be ready to let them go? I really don't know and they know that. They tolerate my imbalance. I pour out in prayer to God, my sensitivity that some mothers this week had the heartbreak and worst nightmare come true in their lives, come to pass. Comfort and help them, Lord, as only You can.

This week, I will take a break from asking the why questions. I will just commit to pray for those whose hearts are open in pain for the rest of this short lifetime. I will Thank God for the best answer to all my prayers, that my Ezra came home safely and has had a great time and a little more grown than he was before he left.

It is my ultimate prayer that the craziness that bereavement leaves was the reason that Solomon was as wise as he was. His mother would have seen stars at the blue lips, like me. God bless their understanding of their mother to their profit, in Jesus' Name.

PS. after that... I smooched him to high heaven and we ate cake and ice cream and I filled his belly with good hearty beef soup and home made bread, once I forgot about the blue lips, we celebrated God's goodness.

Waiting for Ezra!

It is a quiet and solemn morning. The sparrows have cleaned me out of seed in the feeder. I must get out there and refill it. I saw a half blast in the eastern sky of clouds, but they weren't light, they were dark...That makes me wonder...Oh dear, he didn't call last night. I sigh in prayer to God. Is that a good sign or a bad sign? The letter they sent said that they would only call in case of an EMERGENCY. They called and it didn't seem an emergency. What is going to happen? My motherly impulse and experience says no news is good news and my mind goes back to the first time we waited for Ezra, in the tummy.

Be Anxious for nothing, but in everything, by prayer and supplication, let your request be made unto God...

Waiting and Wondering and remembering before Ezra was with us...10 whole years ago. We had so many funerals to go to that year waiting to get to the delightful birth of the womb-closer, "washbelly" baby. What do you think he is doing in there? Some one or few of the children asked on one of the fateful occasions that we were sitting in the car. I think that the angels play movies of "this is your life" to the babies and the birth makes them forget the movies. I told them. I had enough experience at birth to really believe this and tell them this. I think they had this experience also and started talking to the belly to try to interrupt the movie. I had to calm them down quite a bit that day. I told them that there are people in your life who will be guides and trusted ones and those whom you should avoid and you know this in your conscience, but you don't always listen.

I do hope my Ezra is listening to his conscience and we are planning a great reception here at home for my baby's home-coming. We miss him dearly! Lots of food to cook for him.

The day after the hospital stay, my pain is in control, some. With a little help from Tylenol, the pain is at bay. I am still in the splint and have doctor's appointment at 1 pm. I don't know if I should plan to decorate my hand and arm, when I have cast on it, if they go that direction. The hand is swollen a bit, this morning and I must say that I have never spent more attention on my hand in my life. On one match, years and years ago, I hit my left hand with the racket and knocked my thumb nail into the finger. It was a painful occurrence and a little messy, too. I didn't need stitches, but it took a long time for the nail to grow back again. Today, the elbow fracture pain radiates into my shoulder, when I do too much movement. Wimbledon is a comfort and distraction from the pain and swelling of this injury. Injuries that are bone related are very internal and a deep pain. Almost a soul pain, like labor. Not at all like skin injuries or pleuritic pain. There is a fear of God that your body almost seems to be aware of the brevity of life, with this type of pain. Maybe only if you break a bone in your 50's or maybe all bone breaks are reminders of the soul and body connection, I don't know about other people, but I know it was like that for me.