The Most Important Thing

I was not feeling it this morning.  

At 3:30am I was awakened by the loud shriek of a cat in my yard.  Then another one.  The two of them were quite vocal.  This went on for quite awhile.  If you have never been blessed enough to hear cats socializing during the night, it is a blood curdling sound that just seemed to be amplified by the fact that all of our bedroom windows were open and the streets below were silent.  

Ugh. 

I've started torturing myself with exercise early in the morning.  On Tuesdays and Thursdays, I am up at 4:30am for an exercise class.  So much for that extra hour of sleep.  I should be used to sleep deprivation... I think I can count on two hands the number of times my three year old has slept all the way through the night.  But that last hour of sleep would have been so nice.  

I zip through spin class and expect to come home to a quiet house.  6:00am and I am usually still the only one awake at this point.  Unless aforementioned toddler has crawled in bed with my husband.  My dear daughter isn't exactly a "morning person", so typically I am giving her a nudge at about 6:30.  She is seldom as happy to see me as I am to see her sweet, sleepy face.   

Today was very, very different.    

Today my sweet, bright-eyed little angel was already up.  She greeted me as I came in, smiling with her mess of curly red hair because she is happy.  So very happy.  She announces to me that she has been up for a little while, she has already fixed her snack and picked out her clothes, and she has her toothbrush in her hand - ready for action.  Then she remembers breakfast and follows me down to the kitchen.  As we are waiting on our bagels to finish toasting she tells me why she is so happy.  

"Mommy, I prayed this morning when I woke up.  I guess I wanted to pray because I dreamed all night about God, and Jesus, and the Holy Spirit.  They were all there... in my dream."  

I had to peek around the corner to respond to her.  Because an announcement like that deserved eye contact.  I said, "That's great sweetheart.  I'm so excited that you woke up and started your day talking to God."

"Wanna know what I learned in my dream?" she asked.  

"Of course I do," was my reply.  

"I dreamed that God just wanted me to know that He was the most important thing in life.  That's all.  So I woke up and prayed.  I thought it was weird that He wanted me to know that because I've been knowing that for years, like since I was 5 or 6.  Do we have cream cheese?" 

We had our bagels and chatted along through our normal morning routine but I haven't been able to shake her words.  Wow.  

I've been rocked pretty hard lately with what's important.  Perceived priorities.  But in one simple revelation that was just so obvious to my seven year old daughter, I gained true perspective.  

God is the most important thing in life. Period.  

Everything else comes after that.  Health, finances, career, family... everything.  Yeah, it is something I have always "thought", but is it really playing out in my priorities?  My actions? How I manage my life? 

Am I living like He is most important?  

I am pretty sure that it wasn't a huge revelation to my daughter. She has a keen understanding of God that is beyond my comprehension.  She has no idea the impact that her simple and direct faith has on me each day.  I didn't clue her in today that her words from God may not have just been for her but for her to share with others. As a parent I have really steered away from directing my children's relationships with God but rather fostered opportunities for their own personal relationships with God to take root.  But her message was so clear and I felt led to share it with others.  

God is the most important thing in life.  

Pretty simple words, actually.  Even my seven year old has been "knowing it for years".  

Children and Pets: Learning about Loving and Letting Go

This was a really tough week for our little family.  We lost a special member of our family, our pet kitty - Woody.  He had been sick for nearly a month and his little body just couldn't rebound from his sickness.  We did what we could to try and help him get better, but sometimes things are just out of our hands.

These are the things I keep telling myself.  And others.  And it is all true.  But there is so much more to our story.  And Woody's short story needs to be told.

Woody's Story

We adopted Woody from the local Humane Society last July.  I was still recovering from a miscarriage and was perpetually sad.  When I saw his sweet little face in a post on Facebook, I fell for him.  A friend of mine went out with me to the shelter for a visit and his sweet cuddles and curiosity and LOUD purr drew me in.  I now had to sell the idea to my husband.  I didn't dare tell the kids until I had his blessing.  That weekend we went out to the shelter as a family and Woody came home with us.  He was 8 weeks old.

Woody was exactly what our family needed.  

Woody was instantly a part of our family.  He was cute and very social.  He loved to be wherever we were.  He played with the kids and tolerated their need to hold him and "love on" him.  He loved water.  He even liked to try and get in the tub with the kids at bath time and ALWAYS got into the tub after anyone had taken a bath or shower.  Woody loved to chase the reflection of light on the wall or his red laser pointer.  He had a little blue catnip mouse that he carried everywhere and usually left it in from of my door at night as though he had caught it for me.

Woody was loved deeply by our family.  

And then Woody got sick.  It came on quite subtly.  He was always eating weird things and we had to not only maintain a childproof house for our son, but a kitty-proof house for Woody.  He liked to chew the tips off of q-tips.  He loved toys that were made of foam.  All we can figure from what happened with him is that he ingested some foam beads that our kids play with.  He regurgitated them quickly (aka. nasty mess), but he was never the same after that.  He didn't have a blockage from them, but for whatever reason after that he stopped eating.  We took Woody to the vet and he stayed there for four days before they would let us bring him home.  They did x-rays and gave him fluids.  They sent him home and taught us how to force feed him and give him an antibiotic.  We took him to the vet daily for nearly two weeks for a check of his vitals.  He perked up and started eating a little bit.  We thought he was getting better.  And then he wasn't.  His last day with us he hardly moved all day and could barely walk.  I knew he was still very, very sick.  I took him to the vet the next morning and his liver had failed and he was severely jaundiced.  I made the hard decision that I knew needed to be made.  He was given a tranquilizer to keep him still and calm for "the" shot, but he slipped away in my arms not long after he was given the sedative.  I had made the right decision for him but it was heart-wrenching.

Now, as a family, we are working through the grief of losing our pet who was simply gone too soon.  We only had him in our lives for 10 months.  He was so young.

This is where my lesson comes in for families with pets:

• Pets are a wonderful way to teach children about responsibility.  The child reaps the rewards of affection from the pet that they care for.  Woody knew the sound of our daughter's voice and when she called him to feed him.  He was always right with her as soon as he heard the rattle of his food in the bowl.  She loved taking care of him.  
• Children should not be the only ones that are responsible for the pet.  There should be a system of communication about how the pet is being cared for.  It irritated our daughter every day when we asked if Woody had been fed or given fresh water because she was very good about doing it, but it kept a line of communication open so that we all knew he was being cared for.  
• When a pet's behavior changes, take them to the vet.  It may seem silly.  It may save their life.  I don't think it would have changed the outcome if we had caught Woody's problem sooner, but I will always wonder. 
• When a pet succumbs to sickness and your child has been an integral part of their care, be prepared for the grief that your child will feel.  They will not only be grieving the loss of their pet, but they may have guilt associated with thinking it was their fault.
• Your child will ask why their pet had to die.  It's ok to not have an answer for them.  Don't make up something just to make them (or you) feel better. It is better to hold them and cry with them and let them know that you are sad too.  It is OK to say you don't understand why.  It is OK to be sad with them.  I don't have a problem with some of the stories and books that help parents talk about where pets go when they die, but I also don't want to confuse my daughter who is learning about so many hard and important things all at once.
• Very young children need to know that their pet is gone.  They just don't need the same details.  Our daughter is 7 and very smart and she needed an entirely different explanation about Woody's death than our 3 year old son did.  He heard me say something about Woody getting a shot (when I was on the phone) and he thought that someone had shot him.  He just needed to know that Woody wasn't coming home again and that he had died.  And that he didn't get shot. I purposefully didn't tell him that he "went to sleep" because to a child that takes things literally like my son does, it could have been very confusing.  I also avoided saying that he "wasn't sick anymore" because then he would think that he had gotten better.  It is a tough balancing act, but necessary with two children that loved Woody so much... and so uniquely.  

I will probably think of a million things that I should have done differently through this entire process.  I will always wish that I had noticed something was "off" with Woody sooner than I did.  I will always question how I handled this with our children.  But I do know that in the end, we did all we could do to help Woody and we did the best we could in teaching our children about loving their pet and caring for him.  We showed them that we would go the distance for Woody to try and help him feel better.  We also helped our daughter learn (as we were learning) when it is time to say goodbye.

I am so thankful that we had a couple of more weeks with Woody after we found out how sick he was.  I am thankful he is not suffering any longer but am still sad about losing him.  I will never forget him purring for me as he went to sleep in my arms for the last time, his paw draped over my hand.  I will never forget that the veterinarian and nurses who had tried so hard for weeks to help him, cried right along with me as he slipped away.  

Tattered Towels and Chipped Dishes

As I dried off from my shower this morning I looked at the towel I was using.  It was a nice olive green, thick fluffy towel.  At one time.  It is now somewhat faded and the edges are showing some wear.  It seems like yesterday I was just opening up the box laden with tissue paper and several brand new, fluffy towels and washcloths.

Fast forward a bit to breakfast.  I reached up to grab a bowl for my daughter's cereal.  Yep - another small chip on the edge. The dishes are showing their wear, too.  I remember picking them out and registering for them and just hoping that I received enough place settings to serve meals to the guests we would one day welcome into our home.  Hoping that these dishes would be used by friends and family and would last for awhile. 

Our pots and pans are starting to show their age.  We are driving different cars now than we did back then.  We have made so many changes in our lives.  We don't even live in the same state.

October 18, 2003

But there is one constant. One thing that has improved with time.  The marriage that began 9 years ago is oh so much better than it was when it started. 

And I thought we had it pretty good then.

Daniel and I have weathered a few storms and have seen joy and sadness as we have built our life together.  And I am still in awe that someone as wonderful as him could love me the way he does. 

Today, we are light years from where we were 9 years ago.  Not just because we moved from Georgia to Maine.  Not just because we have had two wonderful children.  Not just because we have held each other through the tough times and moments of sadness and grief.  We are better because we have been through it all together.  We have walked beside each other through the thick and thin.  And Daniel is still my favorite person to be around.  I am happiest just being close to him.  Holding his hand. Driving down the road.  Talking.  Sipping coffee amid the noise of our life (and wonderful children). 

A reporter once asked Johnny Cash what he thought heaven was like.  His answer was something like this: "This morning, having coffee with her,"  (referring to June Carter... the love of his life). 

That is exactly how I feel about Daniel. 

So today, we celebrate 9 years together.  Among the tattered towels, chipped dishes, and other things that are only here for a moment... I am so glad to be married to the love of my life.  And it just keeps getting better with time.