It seemed like all I could do just to keep moving forward, to keep suctioning, turning up (and down) the oxygen, keep on top (sorta) of kids doing their homework and other activities. It was hard, really hard. I felt I didn't measure up. I couldn't not only do it all, I could barely do any of it. And it hurt. I was just so, so tired and overwhelmed and exhausted (did I say that already?).
Anyway, so yesterday while we were putting together the Easter baskets and filling plastic eggs with jelly beans, we found some papers. Last year (or maybe the year before) we had taken some time during Easter week to write down our thoughts about Jesus and His sacrifice, and what He means to us.
I was reminded, it's okay. Perfection is not needed or even expected. My younger (and sometimes wiser) self wrote,
"He is my Savior and Lord, but even more, He is my friend. And I know that He wants me to be happy and be with him, so I will trust Him and follow Him and try to be like Him.
The scripture that I chose was Isaiah 61:3
"To appoint unto them that mourn in Zion, to give unto them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; that they might be called the trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified."
I don't have to do everything, be everything.
Does that mean everything was all of a sudden wonderful? Nope, I'm still very much human, and so are all the humans who inhabit my house, and the ones who come back. But I felt fed, given beauty, and exchanged my garment of heaviness for one of praise.
Aaron's doing well, as well as can be expected when he's still finishing a cold. But usually we spent 7-10 days in the hospital, at least. And from my calculations, we're just approaching the end. His oxygen fluctuates and the steroid side effects have been a bit rough. But he's back in school. He was part of a (quite funny) Easter egg hunt yesterday. And Daddy made him his very own Easter egg with his favorite color (red) and "I love Aaron" on it.
So grateful for Easter, for this season, for the empty tomb and all it represents. And grateful for my own renewal.