Find the joy

I consider myself to be a joyful person. A little dramatic sometimes and defiantly a type ‘A’ personality, but for the most part I’m happy. I am not good at sad. I can do it for a while, but then it gets old. Sometimes I’m good at feeling sorry for myself. Snapping me out of that was something Brad was great at. He would baby me for a little while and then let me know when it was time to get over myself and get on with my life. I would then focus on all the good things in my life and find my joy.

I remember a time last year when I had just had my brain tumor removed and my pelvis was fractured. He put the boys to bed and then helped me get cleaned up. As he was laying me in the bed I started to cry. I looked at him, still wearing his work clothes because he hadn’t had time to change; then around the room at the stacks of laundry. Then I thought about the dirty dishes still in the sink and I knew he was getting overwhelmed. He asked me if I was in pain and I told him no, but that maybe it would have been easier for everyone if the brain tumor had just taken me. He looked me square in the face and said, “you are full of shit.” And that was that. That was my queue to stop feeling sorry for myself and snap into shape. That night, when I got up I used my crutches to get to the bathroom instead of waking him up. I worked a little each day at getting better and started thinking about all the great things in my life.

I realized this weekend that I have been feeling sorry for myself lately. I’ve gotten frustrated, been grouchy, overwhelmed and whiny. It’s time to write some thank you notes and remind myself that so many people have been super supportive in so many ways.

This week I am going to work on happy. I want my boys to remember that no matter how bad you think things are, you can certainly find people who have it worse. I also want them to learn that when things are rough you really have to concentrate on your blessings. The joy is there; sometimes you just have to look a little harder to find it!

How are you?

'How are you?' is a question I get asked many times each day. I usually respond with something like, 'oh, we are making it through,' or ' taking things one day at a time,' or 'we are doing fine.' There are a handful of people that I can frankly tell that there are many times I would like to run out into my yard and yell a few choice words as loud as I possibly can.

The other evening I started to think about it. Really, how am I? Well, sometimes I am sad. Really, really sad. But I can't fall apart at the seams because I typically have two little sets of eyes on me. So I let them see me sad, just not really really sad. Sometimes I am angry. Angry at me, angry at him, angry at the world. Sometimes I look at people and I wonder what it would feel like to have your mother and your husband with you...oh and to not have cancer. I'm not even jealous, I just wonder what it would feel like.

There are times that I am just plain caught off guard. Like last week when Trent and I were having lunch and he said, "you know mom, everyone in my class has a dad." And there are times when I look around and I think of how blessed I am. Like when friends come to mulch my gardens, clean my house, mow my lawn, help me look for things, feed us dinner, fix things around the house, and meet me for lunch. So many of my family have bent over backwards to see that our needs are met. That makes me feel loved.

I remember these feelings and their phases from losing my mom. Sometimes I laugh and sometimes I cry. Sometimes the boys laugh and sometimes they cry. We talk and we pray and I try to help them through all the different ways they feel.

But, when the day is done and I put my head on the pillow at night I feel like half of me is missing. And I pray that one day when someone asks how I am doing I can honestly say I am doing great.