home

We are home.

We've spent the weekend recovering, or trying very hard to recover. It's certainly been difficult--the boys' constant energy levels are no match for our emotional exhaustion. Yesterday we took the boys geocaching for the first time (thanks, Sandy! so excited to start this!) and we tried to weather their mood changes and demands for attention amidst family visits here. We were really grateful for Jason's brother and his wife, who took our sons for the afternoon today. I slept the entire afternoon away.

Today has been an overwhelming day, frankly. Moriah isn't allowed in the nursery at church (her immune system is weakening as she stays on ACTH); we kept her with us, and she had a seizure in the middle of Sunday School class, which was heartbreaking and strange. So many well-wishers there, for which we were so grateful, and felt very encouraged. And yet, it made me miss the comfort of those who know us well, back in Lynn.

I realize today I'm overwhelmed by looking either behind me or ahead. Thinking about how the carefully-crafted routine I've made in the last month is blown to pieces; Moriah can't go to the daycare at the Y, so I'm unable to get in the morning run I desperately need to stay sane. The boys back to school tomorrow, and I've got to get up to speed again with homework and long-term projects. Suppers to prepare while managing homework and a very, very fussy Moriah (Jason is calling it "roid rage"). She's losing her sunny personality each day, and is so upset and inconsolable at times. Jason back to work, the long commute to Lynn taking away time when I could really use him here at home. How I need strength and renewed joy for the week ahead! And how I'm dreading injecting her every morning; today's injection was painful for us both, as my slight hesitation meant a less easy entry through the skin, and Moriah screamed and screamed. I have to remember to commit to her well-being, when commitment means inflicting pain on her.

And this week the challenge is not to look back, not to look too far forward. To be present. To breathe and inhabit the space of "now" and trust that God is there. "This is the air I breathe," we sang today in church, "your holy presence living in me." Prayerful breathing is about the best I can do right now, so it's going to have to be enough.