Gross Boobies and Awesome Scars

Lori and Jack went to OSU today to get Jack’s hernia incision checked out. He got a good report! Jack showed me his scar when they got home. When I told him it looked like a smaller version of my c-section scar, he wanted to see it. Upon that unveiling, he said it was big and awesome – we bonded sharing our war wounds.

Earlier, while I was nursing Lena in the playroom, Grant got really close to my face and asked why I was feeding Lena out of my stomach (yes, my boobs hang so low now that my 3 year old nephew thinks they’re on my stomach). I told him that God gave mommies milk in their boobies so they could feed their babies. He said “Oh”, like that explanation made sense to him. And then made a face similar to the expression Mr. Parker wore during the ‘mommy’s little piggy’ scene in A Christmas Story and said in his loud, squeaky voice, “Dat’s gross”.

Here are a couple of pictures from the enjoyable afternoon at the Winger’s.


Lena passed out on Lori’s bed, missing all the fun, as usual.


From the playroom camera, the boys upstairs watching The Lion King, Grant with his shirt off telling Sam that he's the king.

Gratitude

My world monopolizes me. I forget, sometimes decisively, that there is a world beyond my own. Others’ pain and loss affect me so much that I don’t watch anything but soft core morning news. And having Sam and Lena has exponentially increased that intense emotional response. My happy, joyful, blessed world fits perfectly into the circle around which I’ve built it, in a foolish attempt to shield my loved ones and me from the destruction that lies just beyond its borders. My circle is safe. I like my circle.

But often I’m pulled outside my cozy little circle. I glimpse into other people’s circles, their worlds, and am reminded that there’s a lot of misery and violence and despair out there, oozing its way deep into any fissure it can seep. It drowns people in its vile, putrid decay. And it scares the living hell out of me.

At the same time that I pray, listen, donate, help - do what I can to prove that goodness and light live in the same world that darkness and depravity do and can overcome it - I want to hightail it back into my circle squeezing my eyes shut, plugging my ears, repeating Old MacDonald’s Farm in a toddler-like attempt to refute its existence. The fear being that its proximity to my mind, my family, my friends, my circle somehow welcomes it with open arms. Irrational, yes, but fear usually is.

My point? That hanging precariously between the reality of the world and the idealism of my circle is gratitude. Maybe because of what limited knowledge I have of mine and others’ pain and trials and missteps and despair, maybe because of the fear I have of drowning in the ooze, maybe because of my innumerable experiences with joy and love and opportunity and peace, most likely a combination of them all; I am extraordinarily thankful. For everything…

In the words of Jonny Lang, I’m thankful “for every single breath that I take…because any one of these so easily could have been me, and if it had not been for grace and mercy who knows where I’d be”. Preach on, brother Lang.

This is the fort that Sam, ya’ll

Rich taught Sam how to build a couch cushion fort a couple of weeks ago and it has since become a favorite activity of his…Sam, not Rich. Well, Rich too; you can’t take the boy out of the man completely, especially when forts are involved.

Lisa McBride - Drifting Home

She told them she saw a tunnel and asked whether she should go left or right. “Go left, Lisa, if that’s the way you want to go”, they suggested. She said she saw Grandpa Miller there waiting for her. They urged, “Go to Grandpa, Lisa. He loves you”. And then she slipped away into that mysterious tunnel she described, the one we so often hear about in circumstances such as these, her soul drifting toward home. Left behind was her shell of a body, finally at peace after countless months waging war with the faceless enemy of cancer, and her family, most likely balancing on the thin rope that hovers over unfathomably deep despair for the loss of their young mother, wife, daughter, niece, cousin, friend, and relief that her suffering has ended.

I wasn’t close to Lisa by any means. I met her on several occasions, a few times when I was younger at church and once traveling with Lori to her house for a party. Lisa was a cousin of Lori’s high school best friend, Julie, so our contact with and knowledge of her was limited to that exposure. But over the past few years, Lisa has held a permanent place on my prayer list, alongside her young daughter, husband and family, as they battled her despicably vile cancer.

My heart wrenches for her family, especially for that precious little girl who will ache for her momma’s comforting embrace, her uplifting words, the encouraging touch of her hand as the days melt into years and she grows into a young woman her mother would be proud of. And for Lisa’s husband - how does the world continue to turn, days continue to pass, birds continue to fly, life continue to move forward when the axis upon which it all once turned is no longer there?

That’s where faith comes into play, I guess. For those with faith, there exists something bigger, more comforting, more encouraging, more loving, even though that’s damn near impossible to recognize when wounds are fresh. For those without faith, God’s existence and his love and his heartbreak for these circumstances are still there, even though our awareness isn’t. He exists whether we believe in him or not.

Believer or not, the comprehension of how excruciating it is to endure the loss of a spouse or child or parent, someone with whom all of your moments, mundane to monumental, were shared, eludes me. It rocks the very foundation upon which faith is built, I’m sure. I’ve never been faced with that extent of devastation, although I fight with the fear of it every day. But the image that pervades my mind in times of turmoil that I have experienced is from Psalm 91:4 – “He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.”



Please gather Lisa’s family under your strong wings, Lord, and wrap them in the comfort and peace of that shelter.

Family, Friends, Fragility and Fünf

The cold was a thief stealing our breath and assaulting our senses as Sam, Lena and I left the house, bound for Delaware. But the sun fought valiantly as it battled winter’s bitter bite. We picked up Lori and Grant and, armed with our favorite 77¢ gas station cappuccinos, we were on our frigid way to visit Grandma and Grandpa. Soaking up the sunlight that flooded the van with warmth, Lori and I chatted away about kids and friends and had one of our great road trip conversations. We quickly arrived at Arthur’s Place and hulled the kids into the Krafts’ apartment.


Grandma was in the midst of getting her hair done by Mom, both were happy to see our brood noisily make our entrance. Dad returned soon thereafter from the hardware store where he retrieved items necessary to complete one of the 847,643 tasks Grandma had on her list. Grandpa was at his normal post, sitting in the recliner vacantly staring at the television.

Other than her thinning hair and limited mobility, Grandma hasn’t changed much from the woman we grew up with. We all talked and laughed the morning away, as we have so many times before. We tried on Lena's baptismal gown and cheered together as she marked a milestone – her first rollover. That was a nice moment to share with my Grandma. Grandpa seemed unaware of anyone’s presence, however. He has been stolen away by dementia, his once sharp-witted and story-telling mind a causality of the ugly injustice of old age. His sweetness is still there, though, behind that empty gaze. I guess a truly kind, compassionate soul remains even when the mind retreats. How fragile we are…


Back out into the oxymoronic freezing sunny day we trudged, heading home. As the kids dropped off to sleep, Lori and I continued our conversation, shifting the topic to family. The trip was over too quickly, as usual...I should drive slower when we’re on our road trips together.


Later that evening, Mark and Ashley came by for dinner and board games, one of our favorite ways and two of our favorite people with whom to spend a Saturday evening. Close friends from childhood, Mark and Rich have that special energy that only the longevity of years and sharing of experiences can bring to a friendship, which is an amusing and wonderful thing to witness. Sam was in rare form after dinner, channeling his hidden extroversion while he tackled, jumped, talked, and played out energy that his 2 ½ hour nap had loaned him. Then sweet, sweet bedtime came, and it was just the adults laughing, farting and Jenga-ing into the wee hours, accompanied by Bud, Coors and Fünf. We ended the night with buzzed goodbye hugs and the inevitable and welcomed collapse into bed.

Everyday should be as blessedly full of family, friends, fragile moments…and Fünf.

Happy Birthday! Pass the Xanax.

Sam and Lena and I trekked to Newcomerstown on Tuesday to spend the day with Mom and Dad for Dad’s birthday. The morning sky was awash in bright winter sunshine that warmed the inside of the van as we drove. The kids fell asleep instantly, all snug in their car seats. I called Jen to break up the quiet monotony of the road noise. Lost in her heartbreaking story of unrequited love as I drove, I was suddenly snapped back to reality when my van stopped accelerating. In a panic I coasted to a nearby exit where, after a frantic call to Rich, I got the car running again. I was a nervous mess. But I drove on to Mom and Dad’s and made it without further incident.

Mom made a big lunch, and we talked and laughed and played until Dad came home from work. Then we ate and talked and laughed and played some more. It was a great, albeit too-short, visit and, even with the looming sense of dread that hovered knowing I would have to put my babies back in a van that may not be functioning properly, I’m glad we made the trip. My parents are the essence of comfort and joy and home to me. We are blessed that we live close enough and have schedules that allow us to spend time with them.

So it was with my nerves on the top of my skin, a prayer on my lips, and sweat pits the size of grapefruits that we started off for home. I was determined to get us back to Columbus. But that determination led to about 15 more breakdowns between Newcomerstown and Newark until, finally, I surrendered defeat alongside the freeway and called for help. A Jehovah Witness church just off an exit was our coasted-to refuge until Rich and the tow truck arrived.

In the end, we all got home safe and sound, had the van repaired, and our world is right again. But I learned a few things through this minor upheaval.

• I sweat. A lot.
• I can keep it together pretty well when I need to. (There were no witnesses to my meltdown as the adrenaline rush I was operating under finally gave way in that church parking lot, so I’m not counting that.)
• I am blessed to be surrounded by such a loving, supportive, concerned family.
• God is good. His calming presence and name (prayerfully and expletively) made many appearances in the van that day.
• My husband is my rock, and I love him to disgusting degrees.
• I should seriously consider seeking medical attention for the sweating thing.

Inspiration

My sister inspired me to start blogging. Her blog is a memorialization of her family's life, her thoughts, their crafts and activities. I talk to her nearly everyday and see her all the time, but I still log on to see what's happened in the Winger household that day. I have no idea from what corner of herself she pulls the energy to keep a blog, but that's nothing new for Lori. She is the mold from which God must have created mothers, wives, sisters, daughters, friends, neighbors, Sunday school teachers, room mothers, etc...I think I hate her.

So it's from those lofty heights that I, a begrudged secretary, zealous mother, amorous wife, proud daughter, adoring sister, loyal friend, avid reader, devoted day dreamer, and wannabe foodie, take the plunge into creating my own blog. Stay tuned.