Tattoo Girl Happily Puts on an Apron: a link-up
Yesterday, after weeks of symptoms, I took my 4 year old, Jude, to a clinic to get an X ray of his abdomen, and once they saw his enlarged liver, they had us back in waiting for the results of a CT. They were looking for any masses. They had to poke him a lot. They accidentally took too much blood. I texted my dear ones to ask for prayer. I knew that God was with me,
but the “c word” still stayed in my mind. Of all the children in the world who get sick, why would it not happen to us. I examined my theology hard, and I held his little head to my chest, and I held his entire body in my lap, and he curled there in complete submission until we got the call that his troubles must be viral. It wasn’t cancer.
Seth had left an incredibly busy work day to be with us. He was the one who held Jude down while the warm stuff shot all weird through his veins. He was the one, my head.
I tell you all this to juxtapose how ridiculous my thoughts have been lately.
Do you see me calling Seth my head? Look at me changing even before my own eyes, counting my children as arrows, asking for a 4th child, thinking about home-birth, homeschooling and finding it my greatest joy. I’m becoming a regular pilgrim, and yet I can’t seem to quit thinking about cigarettes, how I might like to smoke one as long as my daddy’s driveway.
When I first believed, I had no idea who I was, not even what I liked to wear. I hardly knew my own voice. I just knew I had been remade, and I took my identity as I could from inclinations gathered in ongoing prayer, not from the people who believed the same as I.
Former bad girls have a hard time relating to Christians, though they walk right along side them in the desert places, in the meal-by-meal life. We belong with God, and so we walk, but Pride follows closely whispering things about the Christians’ strange pilgrim bonnets and such.
I joke about the bonnets, really, but I’m home this morning feeling a renewed vigor, a bit of humble- love for my home, which is completely upside-down after a day in doctor’s offices. And now I’m asking for help, as someone who feels her identity shifting constantly. Who is it God made me to be? What if I start to look like everyone else? Will I still be authentic then? A clone? Am I so immature after all this time that I’m even asking these questions?
After a sort of cancer scare, even Mono sounds like a dream. Sure! We’ll take Mono any day, and what else? I’m content and even overjoyed to take on this life that caused me such doubt yesterday morning.
So would you mind encouraging me and other women who might need it here? I’m looking for home-maker websites: for organization, for recipes, for homeschooling tips, for reminders. What simple websites encourage you the most in this strange journey?
If you give us a link, let me know why in the comments, and don’t forget to link to any of your own specific posts that might be helpful.
Forgive me if you’re a bonnet-wearer. My Mamaw was a bonnet-wearer. It’s actually my heritage. Help me own up to it.
And, also, PS: we just found out that Jude is allergic to wheat, so any recipes that might help me with that would be super cool.