I had my internship again and got three more hours. I’m feeling slightly concerned about the way this is going. They have this case worker there who is an undergraduate intern and is paid in a full-time position. While at our meeting yesterday, as each of the women came in for their turn, she sat next to each of them and announced all the things she’d taken care of with their case. She gets them signed up for TANF (Temporary Assistance for Needy Families), gets doctors appointments scheduled, arranges transportation for whatever things, etc. I was actually very impressed.

But I felt very unneeded and like I wasn’t contributing. It’s been difficult getting a clear picture of what my role is in this facility and what it is I’m actually going to be doing. The two personal meetings we had were either cancelled or rushed for this or that reason. The supervisor is a little distracted with a full-time job in the public schools and then this as her thing she does in the evening. It’s fine because I’m distracted too, and that’s part about what I think I like about being here, that this is not like other places I’ve heard of where I am required to be making and keeping appointments.

When I clarified that she said, “Oh no no no no no no no.” It’s more like when I am here then they will find some people for me to talk to. It sounds like it’s mostly going to be the kids, which I’m fine with, and a lot of the moms are also getting counseling through public services as arranged by the case worker. These systems, I can hardly believe how taxed they are. There’s a playroom upstairs which seems like the best place to meet with the kids. They’ve mentioned doing groups about respect and personal boundaries and normal kid things. I wish I could tutor more, it seems like they need it.

I had the first class meeting last week, which counts as group supervision. My tolerance for sitting in class has really shrunk as of late. I am still getting emails about tetanus immunizations needing to be within the past 10 years and Sexual Harassment yearly campus education requirements with logins. I honestly cannot believe all the hoops and I truly pray (or will now) that it wasn’t foolish to come here. We had to go around and introduce ourselves and say which concentration track we had chosen. They have Clinical Mental Health, Marriage, Couples, & Family, and School Counseling.

I chose Clinical Mental Health because that is the one where my previous Spirituality elective would count. There was a woman there who was on her seventh semester of internship and had 80 hours left. She was hoping to finish in the spring. I was kind of shocked to hear that but also I admit it made me feel better. It was in that moment that I also switched over into what I’ve named the “it’s fine” track. I know I keep saying that but I think I do mean it. People take on second sites and take breaks in the program and everyone has their own way of doing things to get in their required hours.

The kids had a meet in Jacksonville. Elianna was the only one of our kids running. My son liked track but he wasn’t up for cross country. Honestly I don’t blame him. I feel like three miles is too long of a distance to run unless you’re really wanting to do it. This course is a tenth of a mile shorter, so 2.9. I don’t know why some of these courses are like this. It wouldn’t be that hard to add the extra .1 to round it out.

I love cross country meets. For whatever reason they never get old. They had a lot more schools there this time and a ton more cars and filled up parking spots in the grass. It was never like that before. The lead runners for both the boys and the girls were both way out in front of everyone else. It fills me with so much awe. He was coming in to finish while much of the pack was still coming up for their final mile and thus was running through the pack to lap them.

I don’t know what the purpose of having the gift of running is. One of the boys was with me and I told him that it is amazing seeing the different gifts God has given people. He asked if the point of having running or sports gifts was basically just to show them off. Like was that part of the reason of why people started getting together to play sports? I honestly didn’t know. We walked and talked and saw Sycamore trees.

I got a call this afternoon from the woman and friend I’d spent those few nights with. She had a miracle to report. She’d slept through the night and was having no pain. This whole thing, it turns out and confirmed by an x-ray, had been due to a slipped disk which likely happened during surgery. Apparently this is something that happens and just as disks can slip out when the body is stretched in unusual positions, these disks in time can also end up back where they belong.

So we praised the Lord for that. When you have felt bad for so long, to feel good again is truly a miracle. This fever still lingers but it’s not as bad as it was a day ago. The kids had the day off school and spent much of it tinkering around doing kid things. There was time spent cleaning up. I went to my room and worked on my side of the closet. Dad took all four kids to the bike trail where one ran and the other went to the Sangamon River. He’s got it too but not as bad.

I don’t know what was going on with me yesterday. I was kind of embarrassed after I wrote that but couldn’t delete before it’d been seen. Too many things I felt needed more explanation. Like when I say that the recollection gives me hope I mean that I remember previous stages of motherhood/married life when other temptations were also very strong. These temptations, if that’s what in fact they are, lasted for years just living freely and rudely in my mind. But they passed.

So the recollection of the temporary nature of the affliction is what gives me hope, in that if that one passes, then this one will too. I can say with memory and confidence that I’ve been freed from prolonged and inner agonies before. So whatever the current thing is that has me convinced that this is the answer, but that also isn’t lining up with my truest wishes and values, that is the thing to pray against and cry out to God for, though it doesn’t always have to be that extreme.

And the fun, I’m not sure what all that was about. I know sometimes moms can feel like the cares of the world weighed them down. They lost their fun side. Their relationships suffer. Marriages too must also struggle. The sinful flesh is always seeking to be gratified. It’s the part of us that is greedy and also easily offended. It’s the part that wants to be the idol, and thus by definition can never satisfied. I am glad I didn’t listen before and someday so with this. How I pray this is true.

A woman texted this morning. She was coming out to camp. Could she have ten minute of my time? There were other things she said, including an apology for being so selfish. She felt an urging from God that I was struggling too. I didn’t know what to say to that. I wasn’t about to unload all my deepest darkest thoughts in an instant, though I did consider it. I told her I forgave her, that I didn’t think she’d been selfish, but if she felt convicted in that way then I did forgive her. We couldn’t meet today though.

I was sick today. Before I’d had time to do much thinking or journaling, before I’d thought that I can talk too much and sometimes need to lie still in the quiet and let God speak to me. Not to process, not to call someone. To wait on God and be still in his presence. But before I’d even thought any of that, I wondered if this wasn’t just a terrible, oppressive temptation. This re-occurring and ever present convincing that there will be only be healing when I’m apart from all this. This church. This house.

Have a I languished for years in unmet needs? It sure seems to me so. What other explanation could answer me fully? It feels so reasonable. Move out, set up a place, control your surroundings with the number of items and placements of all of them. Then peace will come. I will dedicate myself to a life of chastity and mercy work, free from the injuries, the burdens, the languishing. My desires have changed and weren’t always so holy. This recollection gives me hope. I pray against it. Grant me clarity.

The fun, anymore, is not enough for me now. Fun was in the wave pool, laughing as we made our way toward the wall, telling my stories about a book I’d just read. And then backing off and then asking her questions, holding on to each other’s tubes, all of us together in the bobbing water. I have filled my mind with so much trash. Tactics that did not play out in real life, these ways to earn love, respect, admiration. Did it work? Was it worth it? No and no. Rather, a woman who fears the Lord. A gentle and quiet spirt.

These are the things God’s word extols. Why was I wrapped up in anything else? I want to be at peace and content in my surroundings without giving up the continued work to improve them. Perhaps in this my eyes will be opened to more, to what has been there all along however faint or obscured or in the worst instances blocked. The boys are feeling better and spent the day down at camp, though one did stay with me here in the morning hours. Dad left later to get me some Sprite. I slept for much of the day.

This months sure feels like it has taken a long time. Beginning with visiting my sister-in-law at their new house to spending part of the day with them this afternoon at the waterpark, I feel like much has gone on in-between. And even then it’s not over. Elianna’s first meet is tonight in Clinton. The younger boys and I are fighting off some kind of sickness. One was well enough to go but one is home with me.

It was only me at the park. The others went last week when I was again too tired to go and interested in regaining and preserving my energy. We did the hill slides, the wave pool, and the lazy river before I needed to leave to be back in time to leave here. I came home and my son was still sleeping on the couch, red faced and warm. I’d had fun at the park but soon felt the fever, aches, and chills catching up with me too.

I’m at that point where I can do things if I have to even if I’m not feeling great. I still don’t even know what this is. It’s a weakness, an impairment, that I have to be mindful of mostly each day. Part of what was so upsetting to me with my come-to-Jesus moments with the overnights is that I felt like I’d been completely knocked back in terms of progress in physical wellness. I look normal now but I am not.

And it’s hard because it’s not something I really talk about with hardly anyone. There’s no name to describe it, the story is far too personal to even mildly tell it in a way that would probably help to give context and a far more clear explanation. So I just keep hobbling, twitching and retreating to my bed and my home away from more human eyes. And my kids, this is life now. I missed this same meet two years ago.

I broke down on the couch, across from the sick one, so kind and polite. He reminded me of his older brother at this age, the same qualities, the same tone. Time isn’t a thief, but it’s continuing to move and to move us, stopping only for the Lord when he descends from his heavenly throne-room. Tomorrow is the chicken fry and dad keeps going, somehow always. I say if only he’d be weak, then I could be strong for you…

~~~

A woman texts me in the morning. We need to get together–2022 is when we took our last picture. And for once in my life I can’t keep up. These people. These precious, wonderful people. Before that, the daughter-in-law I’ve never once met in person, and only talked to on the phone. She’s officially inviting herself over to this wonderful camp she is hearing of. And in all sincerity I play along. She can visit. We can paddleboard.

Some old, some new. People in my life that I’m sure God has placed there. But suddenly I’m angered. Why is it always one-on-one, with no greater context to connect us to anything? I need groups, I need more, I need something bigger. My sister-in-law mentions the small groups at their church. I recently tell a pastor’s wife, two as I think of it, that I am this close to leaving the LCMS to find a church with more passion and joy.

Is it me? Is it me? They assure me it’s not. And then I hear of more, of the burdens and trials, and I think, you know? We truly are all poor miserable sinners. And you are sobered into remembering the daily blessings of life, of house and home, spouse and wilderness. And then another–will I be there tomorrow? I do not know. For me and sons she directs the Psalm–“Magnify the Lord with me, let us exalt his name together!”

The boys had quizzes in their books today. It works out so that every five days they have quizzes, except for the third week and then there’s a test. After that they move on to the next booklet. Three of the subjects they do on their on at their grade level: Math, Language Arts, and Reading. The other three subjects they do the same level together: Bible, Social Studies, and Science. I’ve been reading the SS, Science, and Math so far.

The big kids seem to be liking their school. Elianna has been kind of over school since sophomore year. The veterinarian route is too much school so she doesn’t want to do that. There are veterinary techs and veterinary assistants. I can’t remember the difference now but one is a shorter program and the other is longer. One of them you can do at the local community college and the other is only offered at certain schools.

I haven’t thought much of Ethan. We’ve texted briefly here and there. Today he let me know that he felt his running was getting worse again. He can’t catch a full breath when he runs anymore. Coach is stumped and I am too. In the summer he’d been doing so well, shaving off time and seeing and feeling improvements. He says he’s sleeping and eating well. Coach wonders if maybe the airways in his lungs are inflamed somehow.

Does he think he needs time off? Does he think he needs to quit? He’s not fatigued or he’d be more inclined to take some time off. He doesn’t want to quit, he still wants to run. I don’t know, maybe it’s your diaphragm, I said. I can’t think of anything else that would be causing the difference since going to school. Stress? Pressure? I sent him some YouTube videos of guys doing exercises. They get their physicals every summer.

Sigh. I’m not saying coach’s thought is wrong, and if I think he’d agree I’d say just come home and school’s no big deal and we’ll take you to the doctor to start ruling things out. I’m just trying to start with the least invasive and go from there. Is this different from the way you were feeling sometimes during the running last year? Yes this is different. Dad’s car broke down at the district office, so I went and picked him up from there.

“Is this getting to be too much for you, hun?” It was somewhere between the hours of 2 and 3 and we hadn’t yet been up the whole night. We’d gone for a walk around the dining room, trying to get relief from the pain after tossing and turning had not been working. The kicker in all this was that her surgery knee was completely fine. Small amounts of ache and drainage but after months of being barely able to walk and counting the too many days until surgery, now she had a different problem.

“Well the short answer is, I love you.” These are not odd words between us, although it usually comes out “love you” and then I say it to her back. I didn’t need to bring this up and Lord knows I’ve already said it, but I had to say again about the time she bought us groceries. She spent $282 or something outrageous. I could not believe someone would spend that much money, that people even had that kind of money to spend. And then she had taken me and spent it on us. She’ll still send us money. $500 at Christmas.

“These could’ve been my parents”, I’m thinking to myself. Not really, I think also, I’m sure it wouldn’t have been that way. Anymore this has nothing to do with him. I’ve heard about his life and see the pictures of his kids. There comes this point though where you’re no longer thinking about past people. He is not the one who has loved me now for two decades, the person who has graciously let me come here without even a halt or hesitation. I am not going to indulge these thoughts, these memories.

He is not, I am positive, even thinking about me, a fact that helps even more to bring my thoughts into submission. There were three young men I loved in high school, and this particular person was one of them. Sophomore, junior, and senior year. After that he went to Lincoln, where Barbara went also, another friend I was sometimes jealous of. I’d known him longer, I hope she knew that, but she was still nice. For whatever reason he didn’t end up with her either. I knew his kiss count and it was absolutely ridiculous.

But he was not, for me, marriage material, something we could sense, think, and talk about back then–I’m sure he doesn’t even remember. Great fun, yes. Someone to hang with and ride around in his truck with. He wouldn’t wear a seatbelt and was proud of not doing so. He’d blast his songs and songs by The Dixie Chicks and I wanted to be right there with him with whatever so-called pillow of blue bonnets. One time I was, in the back of his truck, and then another, and neither time could we rightly indulge.

So we didn’t very much and this drove me crazy, this taking of turns where neither one could be free. But it was fine because it wasn’t meant to be for us anyway. In marriage you needed someone responsible. And that was our problem, we were too much alike. Who would actually do the dishes? Who would be the serious, the ordered one? I went to camp and forgot all about home, about all these people who’d meant so much to me before. I don’t remember ever officially breaking up. I just came back and was different.

One time I asked Josh, not too terribly long ago, “What was it that attracted you to me? Like what was the thing that made the first big impression?” He said it was my faith, that I seemed like an actual, genuine Christian. And then I told him what mine was, that he was humble and had a servant heart. I woke up in the morning and said I wanted him next to me. It was dark, around 5:11, and another hour before I’d hear back. This time I’d left early to return to my man. He was in the kitchen helping Ron with the deliveries.

I’ve got two more hours of internship that I can mark off. I promise not to bring up every time I’m getting hours. This time we had a “wrap-around” meeting where the shelter directors, the social worker, and I (grammar??) were all present. The meeting was supposed to start at four so I got there at 3:45 and it didn’t start until 4:25. I counted all of it, and at 5:45 we were done to equal two hours. I like it because even though it’s a professional environment, I feel like I can relax and still be myself.

The girls take turns coming in and get to update everybody on how they are doing. If they have complaints about something this is their time to bring things up. Two of the girls had not been following the guidelines of turning in 75% of their food stamp money to put toward group food costs. One woman gets $900 a month and said she had given $500 to her mom. She has some kids living with her at the shelter and the rest are living with her mom. She also had spent some of the money on snacks for her kids at some expensive ice cream place. The director understood the having kids somewhere else situation and changed the number so that $450 could still go to her mom and she still would have some left over to buy snacks for her kids.

Next week she said I could start meeting with the moms. She wants me to get to know them first and then meet the kids. They still are wanting some kind of kids group and she said they can try and get me a curriculum. She introduces me to everybody there as “the counselor”. I just think it’s hilarious. While with work I really needed a little more hand-holding and extra attention, I get the sense here that they expect you to be capable and are going to put you to work as if you are.

Black women somehow have immaculate skin. I do not think I saw a single wrinkle on any of them. I don’t think it’s botox because it’s true for too many I’m supposed to go back tonight for one more night. Last night the woman called and said that I had the night off. She feels bad and doesn’t want to burden our families, so she called another woman to come and stay with her last night. Her daughter-in-law and I had both been having these serious come to Jesus moments yesterday at different times. Neither one of us could believe that at the first sign of pain and struggle in this situation we’d started to crack. God has something to teach us in everything.

She texted today and said she’d gotten five hours of sleep and that the day had been much better. I pray it is true and I pray it continues. I told her she wasn’t a burden and that I wanted her to get well and feel better again. I shouldn’t have signed up for four days in a row, and I could feel that at the time, but for whatever reason I still did it. I’m thankful to God for working that out for me and I pray that he would continue to do so. I’m still very tired, have been very preoccupied, and miss sleeping at home in my bed.

Annoyed wasn’t the right word I was getting at earlier. I don’t know if there’s a word, but the idea is looking down on someone, and thinking less of them, for being weak. You think, “Come on, dude. What’s a little pain and discomfort, and God forbid, some discomfort prolonged?” Women talk about the man cold and I don’t understand it. You want to smack them and be like, “What kind of beast and awful person are you?”

I don’t have to go in tonight, and I am relieved. It’s very hard to watch people suffer and hard to do it also in the middle of the night. I don’t want to talk bad about the medical system because it truly saves lives and has good people throughout. It’s just that if you want to be seen and want someone to hear you, then you have to be loud and not just compliant. Loud is not the same as rude. You have to keep asking until someone listens.

We are supposed to comfort others with the comfort we’ve received. I was wondering today what kind of comfort I’ve received from God, how would I describe it? He has unlimited grace and his thoughts are not evil. When he suffers he does so with full trust in his Father. His unlimited grace is sufficient for us when ours forever will not measure up. He gives to us rest for our bodies and souls, his beloved eternal and endless wells.

I remember when reading Gretchen’s Caring Bridge emails feeling, only sometimes, a little–annoyed (Christ, have mercy), when the letters started to take on the tone that the caregiving aspect was taking a toll. A spouse with terminal cancer, if that’s what she had, then this was your wife and that was part of the deal. How much had that woman suffered from the giving of herself? And that went on for years and years.

But with her it had been at least one. And it is simply a denial of reality to think it is possible for it not to take a toll. And it is a denial of my humanity to not have compassion on those when it does. So I’m sorry for that, that my heart did not have more compassion to give for him, though I did pray for him because God was still there. Being a human being is hard, and we all are just these weak and fragile people.

I’ve been on both sides of the caregiving spectrum, where I’m the one giving it and where I’m the one needing it. If I had to choose I’d say the needing it is worse, though both times brought you to the point of being where if given the choices you’d never wish to go back to. You’d never want to relive it. The exception to this was Josh’s dad, where I actually longed to be at his bedside again, if then the only way to be with him.

It was Josh who spent the night with his mom. Yes, I had said that you need to go and be with her, but it wasn’t me who volunteered to go myself. I’ve thought about this so much. Why didn’t I go, particularly when I knew it would’ve needed to be done. There was nothing sinister, or held back in bitterness or some unvoiced hurt. That’s why I didn’t go to Christmas sometimes, that year I was sick and could not have gone anyway.

I say bitterness like it’s an acid that still remains. I pray it doesn’t. I want only grace and love and peace there. The only reason I can think of with the nighttime portions with Josh’s dad is that God had not yet called it back out of me. By the end of my time with him he had, had called something back out of me. This is what I knew how to do and would do.