Puzzle Pieces

Our little Davy-boy turned four on Saturday.

We are celebrating this week (Birthday celebrations Steele-Style usually last about a week) with my homemade chocolate cake, lots of Thomas the Train, Finding Nemo, and six glorious days on the beach.

It's pretty wonderful.

And it feels appropriate to be here this week.  For this event.

Davy was and is such a gift to us.

We like to call him our "do-over".  Our "bonus baby".

I tell him every single day that he is my treasure.

But our journey with him has been a struggle in many ways.

He's always marched to the beat of a different drum, if you will.

With an obsession with Coldplay, an uncanny ability to recognize music (and connect songs to artists), a struggle to connect with others, a frustrating speech and reasoning delay (and a host of other unique qualities), he has given us clues from early infancy that he is unique.

Not typical.

Special.

A living, breathing puzzle.

We've tried to put the pieces of the puzzle together - spent countless hours sorting them, organizing them, discussing them... in order to make sense of them.

But it hasn't been working.

Then, in January, we received a phone call from the director of Davy's preschool asking us to come in for a meeting.

The day of that meeting was a bad day.  That was the day we realized we needed help.

He needed help.

David is autistic.

We've suspected this for a long time now - had other professionals suggest it as a possibility.

But now it's staring us in the face.

Now we see that the puzzle has 1000 pieces.  A mosaic.  In 3D.

It's daunting.  This puzzle is going to take a lot of time and effort to put together.

But we're confident the end result will be beautiful.

And, really, aren't we all puzzling in our own way?

And God, the Master Designer of all puzzles, I know, will help us sort the pieces of Davy's little mind and put this puzzle together.

Undertow

My dad was a traveling salesman for a while.  It made for unpredictable income, but it also provided a few opportunities for family getaways.

When I was about eight, we were able to go with him to Florida and spent a day on the beach.  This day stands out as a great day overall in my stack of childhood memories.  I hadn't seen Jaws yet, so my fear of sharks was not yet overblown (But is there such a thing as an overblown fear of sharks?  I don't think so.), and I didn't know about jellyfish, stingrays, or coral reefs.  I was fearless in the ocean.  To me, it was just a giant swimming pool.

And I loved it.

My baby brother and I built sandcastles.

We hunted for seashells.

And played in the waves.

It was pretty awesome.

And there were no shark attacks.

Turns out, though, unbeknownst to me there was another enemy in the water.

And I discovered it that day.

Dad and I were out a bit from shore.  I was playing and splashing and having a jolly good time when, without warning, my legs were whipped out from under me and I went under the water.

Now, I was a relatively strong swimmer (for an eight year old) and I could handle myself in the water pretty well.

And yet every time I tried to right myself, something sucked me back down.

Over and over again.

In reality, this experience probably lasted about five seconds.  Maybe ten.

But it felt like time was standing still.  I was terrified.

Suddenly, a hand reached down into the water, grabbed me, righted me and pulled me, sputtering and choking, back onto my feet.

My dad's hand.  In the midst of my fear, I had completely forgotten he was there.

That in that moment I was not beyond his reach.

I know that the metaphor here is pretty obvious.  But I needed obvious today.

Today, caught in the undertow of chronic pain and feeling tossed and turned by it, time for me stood still and fear set in.   It was difficult to right myself.  Pain sucked me down and despair kept me spinning.  And even though I've become a relatively strong swimmer in this sea of pain, I found myself unable to get my head above water.

And then it happened.

A hand reached down and pulled me up.  Reminded me He was there.

That I was not beyond His reach.

That I would not drown.

I'm grateful that His arm is long enough to reach me.

That He has the strength to rescue me from the undertow.

Favorite Birthday Gifts

Today, in honor of my 43rd (yikes!) birthday, I am back on blogger and doing my best to write a COMPLETE entry.

It's my birthday gift to me.

It's been difficult for me to get back here because, honestly, I don't know what to say.

I'm better.

But I still hurt every day.

I have a long way to go and I don't really want to talk about it.

Not today, anyway.

Today I am 43.

43.

How'd that happen?

I thought I'd share some of my favorite birthday gifts over the years.  Fun for me, and I need fun.

(Note:  these are not listed in any particular order.  Don't want to hurt anyone's feelings...)

- When I turned 8, my parents gave me a simple, but beautiful birthstone ring.  I loved it.  And I still love it.  You'll see it sometimes on my one of my pinkie fingers.  It's super special to me for many reasons.

- When I turned 25, exactly one week from our wedding day, Mark presented me with a new NIV Study Bible... with my new name engraved on the front.   I still use it.  And it still makes me smile.

- Last year Molly and Ronna gave me an uber cool To Kill a Mockingbird t-shirt.  Love, love, love it!  And I love that they know how much I love that book.  And I love that there even is such a thing as a To Kill a Mockingbird t-shirt.

-  For my 40th birthday, just three months after our little David was born, Mark and the children gave me a Willow Tree collection of figures to represent each one of us in our family.  I love it.  And I love that Morgan, Jackson and Charlie chose the figures.  It's a centerpiece in our family room.

- In the summer of '05, I miscarried our fourth baby (yes, Davy-boy is #5).  It was a devastating loss that so many women suffer and I was wholly unprepared for the aftermath of grief.  For my birthday the next month, my precious sister-in-law, Ann, gave me a simple, but beautiful heart necklace from James Avery to represent our baby in heaven.  I wear this necklace ALL THE TIME.  It is so very special to me.

- Last summer, the kids and I dropped by Mark's office one day to have lunch with him and, like we always do, we popped by "Uncle Jeff's" office to say hi.  As we stood there talking, I noticed he had a series of Van Gogh paintings scrolling on his computer screen and I admired all of them, but one in particular.  A couple of months later, on my birthday, he surprised me with an oil painting replica of that painting, beautifully framed.  Wow.  Just wow.

- Several years ago, in the midst of a difficult season in my life, Mark and my friends put their heads together to plan a special day where the main gift was TIME.  Time with people I love.  And time to breathe a bit with those people.  The day began with a massage, then I was surprised every couple of hours when one person would drop me off to be with the next person.  The day was filled with pedicures, yummy food, shopping, coffee, more yummy food and then a party!  What a day.  I will cherish it always.

The truth is, these are just a few examples.  Mark is an amazing gift-giver... extravagant, really.  He's taught me so much about giving and receiving gifts.

I was never that good at either.  I gave with hesitation (not from stinginess, but with doubt that my gift would be special enough), and I received with a sense of guilt because I just knew the money could or should be spent another, better way.

Now, though there are still these hovering tendencies to sort through at times, I have learned the value of a gift.  Not the monetary value, but the value that comes when someone who loves you expresses that love in a thoughtful, meaningful way.

And through this, I am drawn even more to the One who is the best gift-giver of all.

Hemmed In

Last year I purchased Jackson a new pair of (kind of pricey) Boy Scout pants.  I bought them with room to grow (again, kind of pricey), which meant that I needed to have them hemmed up by a tailor.

I wish I sewed, but alas, I must pay to have someone else do these tasks.

I specifically asked the tailor to make sure to hem up the entire excess, so we could let them out as Jackson grew.  A couple of days later I went to pick up the pants.  Studying the hem job, I was alarmed because the hem was super small - like maybe an inch!

When I called her attention to it, she explained that she had folded up all the excess material into that tiny hem.  "It looks nicer that way," she said.  She was right.  Somehow she managed to squeeze all that extra material into a one-inch wide space.  Amazing.

And this is why I pay her the big bucks.

*******

I feel squeezed into a one-inch wide space right now.

For the better part of six months I have been unable to drive.  I can't go to church, to restaurants, to the movies, to my kids' special events, to the grocery store...  and the list just goes on and on.

I spend most of every day either in bed or in an anti-gravity chair (THANK YOU, Matt and Emily!!).

Surrounding me are two tv trays and a small table.

They are cluttered with...

My Bible & Bible study materials

Novel(s) I am reading (there's usually at least three I'm dabbling in)

My wallet (for online shopping and reimbursing friends for various shopping errands they have run for me - THANK YOU, FRIENDS!!)

A package of Boogie Wipes and a box of Kleenex (for wiping noses-one mommy job I can't seem to pass off to said friends)

Four remote controls (yes, I said FOUR)

Games magazines (for the rare moments the drug fog lifts and I can work puzzles)

Notepads and pens (if I don't write it down the very SECOND I think of it.... it's gone)

Coffee mug (no explanation necessary)

And various other items I feel need to be within my reach.

**It's a good thing I love my house and the people in it.**

Even so, last week I decided to feel sorry for myself and threw a pretty classic pity party.

It happens.

I'm not claustrophobic, but I began to feel closed in.  My large living room, with its vaulted ceilings and many windows that allow natural light to flood in each morning, became narrow and oppressive.
Despair of ever feeling good again set in as I realized that I have become, in essence, a "shut-in."

I'm sure this sounds a bit melodramatic, but c'mon... six months is a long time, people.

And though I am DEFINITELY better, the end of this journey is most definitely not in sight.  I've got a long way to go.  A lot more days in this chair.

That's my reality.

And this truly settled on me last week.  Sooooo....

I consumed at least 3 pints of Ben & Jerry's ice cream (Triple Caramel Chunk is my new fav, but Phish Food will always have my heart.).  Dipped Hershey's dark chocolate bars into a jar of peanut butter every single day.  And lost myself in the world of Ashley Judd as Becca Winstone on ABC's Missing.

To name a few.

And then, after a good, cleansing ugly cry... I heard that still, small Voice.

I have hemmed you in.

And the picture of Jackson's Boy Scout pants popped into my mind's eye.  All that material, packed into that small space... just waiting to be released as Jackson grows.

I have hemmed you in.

I don't know what He's doing.  But for some reason, in this time, in this place, with these children and this amazing husband that I love, He has me hemmed in.  He has narrowed my spaces, eliminated almost every external distraction and forced me to be here... in this small place.

Trusting Him that this tiny measure of space is packed with potential.

You hem me in -- behind and before;

You have laid your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too

wonderful for me,

too lofty for me to attain.

Psalm 139:5

Random Thoughts...

I haven't blogged in forever.

It's hard to blog when it's hard to put a coherent thought together.

With the exception of 3 doctor's appointments and a ride through the Chick-Fil-A drive thru, I haven't been out of my house or out of a hospital in over four weeks.

Morphine makes me crazy.

My husband is amazing.

So are my children.

And my friends.

And my church.

And my mom.

And my step-dad.

I am having more good days than bad days... FINALLY!

Today isn't a good day, but it isn't really a bad day either.

I'm okay with an in-between day.

It's way better than a bad day.

I'm still on a LOT of medication.

Can you tell?

I've forgotten what I am really like.

I'm looking forward to re-discovering me.

I am COMPLETELY sure that God is near me.

He's all around me.  Beneath me.  Before Me.

Thankful.

The Ride

Tomorrow marks five weeks since my surgery.  It's been quite a ride.

I was told by my doc that it would be a roller coaster ride; but the thing is, roller coasters are fun.

This is so not fun.

Well, actually, there is one roller coaster ride that might come close to this experience.

Ever been to Disney World?

The Steele Family LOVES Disney World.  Mark and I have been three times since we were married and would go more often if it weren't so darn expensive.  The first time we went was before we had children.    It was great because we could go at our own pace and got to ride pretty much everything. 

I LOVE all the roller coasters.  Space Mountain, Thunder Mountain, Expedition Everest.

All of them...except for one.

The Rock 'n' Roller Coaster at MGM Studios is a NIGHTMARE.

This coaster blasts off and whips around in the dark doing twists and turns for what seems like an eternity.  And the worst part is that you have speakers up against both ears BLASTING Aerosmith at full volume the entire time.

Aerosmith isn't the problem here.

The problem is that your senses are being hit at once at the maximum possible level and it's just completely overwhelming.

And I hated it.

And that's pretty close to recovering from back surgery.

I knew I was facing weeks of rest and healing.  I knew there would be pain involved.

I just didn't realize the intensity would be so overwhelming.

So all consuming.

I had this long list of things I thought I would be able to do during recovery.

1. Read several books.
2. Finish the Bible study I never finished in the fall.
3. Catch up on my daily Bible reading (I don't dare tell you how far behind I am now).
4. Finish David's Christmas stocking.
5. Finish the certification process I've been working on since the fall for the writing curriculum I teach.
6. Spend quality time with my children.
7. Watch Friday Night Lights.
8. Redesign my blog and blog more.
9. Work on David's baby album.
10. Have some deep, revelatory God moments.

None of these have happened.

The "ride" is so all consuming that I can't seem to focus on anything for any length of time.

I know there's an expectation that God is using this time to teach me new and life-changing lessons, but I have to be honest and say that although I do believe these will come... they aren't happening yet.

I'm too foggy.  Too distracted by pain and what it takes to get through the day to really be able to connect with God in a deep and meaningful way.

It's kinda discouraging at this point.

But I'm still on this ride and it isn't going to stop for some time.

So....

I keep throwing out short, simple prayers for strength, for grace, for patience, for hope.  And I keep a list of those in my life that I care about next to me so that I can throw out prayers for their needs (and for a moment get my mind off mine).

And as I twist and turn with the loops of this roller coaster, prayers (no matter how simple they are) remind me of how loved I am.  By so many.

But more importantly, by the Father God.

And I remember that He's got me buckled in tight.

My "Must Reads" List - Not Necessarily a Top Ten and Not Necessarily in a Particular Order

That would take too much brain power - and I'm running low on that these days.

I've had a few people asking for book recommendations and since I've got a little (read - a LOT) of time on my hands, I thought I'd put a little "Must Read" book list together.  Please note:  I am on a LOT of pain medication so my brain is pretty fuzzy these days.  I guarantee you I will leave books out - I just hope I end up spelling everything correctly.  :)

Disclaimer:  Right now I am giving the Twilight series a go.  It is mindless, poorly written and I would NEVER personally recommend them to anyone.  But I'm having fun reading them.. :)

1.  Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand.  Mark bought me this book for Christmas last year and I put it on a shelf and forgot about it.  Then, Molly told me about this amazing book she was devouring and said that I MUST read it and when I mentioned it to Mark he kindly reminded me that he had given it to me LAST YEAR.  Oops.  It's fantastic, people.  A true story about a WW2 airman whose plane went down over the Pacific Ocean.  He floated on a raft (with no supplies) for close to 50 days and when he finally reached land, he was captured by the Japanese.  READ THIS BOOK.

2.  To Kill A Mockingbird by Harper Lee.  Favorite book of all time.  You've probably all read it, but if you haven't don't want another minute.  Get it.  Read it.  

3.  The Hunger Games Trilogy by Suzanne Collins.  This is teen fiction, but it's way more than that.  It's a statement on society.  And it's fun.  And it's GREAT discussion material.

4.  Run by Ann Patchett.  I have read this book twice in the last couple of years.  I think it's a beautiful story.  It's set in Boston and it's about family, grief and loss, hope and the power love has to heal.

5.  Watership Down by Richard Adams.  This is fantasy and is SOOOOO good.  I discovered this book in 9th grade.  It's full of adventure and is just a smart book.  

6.  A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith.  Depression era (I think - can't remember) story about a girl living in poverty, coming of age, love and family.  One of my favorites ever.

7.  Anything by Charles Dickens.  I love him.  So much.  (except for Bleak House... it's appropriately titled)

8.  The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows.  OMG - how I LOVED this book!!!  Couldn't put it down.  Post WW2 story about a British island (occupied by the Nazis) that is very much removed from all that is going on after the war - and how a writer from London comes to be there - and what happens when those two worlds collide.  Love it, love it, love it.

9.  Gone With the Wind by Margaret Mitchell.  Do I really need to explain why this is a MUST READ?  Seriously.  If you've never read it, put it on your bucket list.

10.  Uncle Tom's Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe.  Beautiful.  Sad.  IMPORTANT.  Read it.

This is a start, friends.  You've probably read all these.  Most of them have been around for ages.  And yes, I'm old school.  I'm not much for pop fiction.  More of a classics kind of girl.  But these are all wonderful.  If you want more suggestions, I'm just a Facebook message away.  :)