Tag Archives: #momblogger

Good Healing

12 Replies
Photo by CongerDesign on Pixabay

A week ago today I was doubled over in severe pain, heading to the ER.

Turns out that diverticulitis and a clot in an oh-so-tiny vein are the Dastardly Duo. And while all the pain was zero fun, I’m thankful for a clear diagnosis. Clarity is never overrated, y’all. And in this case, clarity gave me peace in knowing what’s wrong so that I can take better care of myself.

Now, while clarity is a blessing, getting to clarity is usually the tricky part. I’m not afraid of doctors or medical facilities, but being in health facilities puts me on my Ps and Qs. Navigating countless doctors and medical moments as my late dad’s primary caregiver for many years “learned me good,” to borrow his phrase.

So, while my husband drove me to the ER, I breathed this prayer: Lord, please surround me with people who are knowledgable AND kind. Who will really see me, and not dismiss me as just another body. Amen.

And God showed out in answering my prayer . . .

The nurses brought their A-game with great communication and needle pricks as gentle as possible. The ER doctor was respectful and clear as a bell in guiding us. And he wasn’t playing around – he ordered a CAT scan and other tests to get a solid diagnosis as soon as possible.

I was satisfied. I thanked God out loud and deep inside myself, for placing medical professionals around me who were exactly what I prayed for.

But, God wasn’t done.

While we were waiting for my test results, the janitor appeared outside the door with her cart. She was short like me and Latina. Like everyone else who worked there, she wore a blue mask for safety. In a gentle voice, she asked, “May I clean your room, please?” We smiled as we agreed.

She thanked us and started working right away, wiping doorknobs and countertops. When my husband removed our belongings from a counter to be helpful, she insisted, “No, that’s not necessary. You don’t have to move your items for me.” And, as soon as she finished, she insisted to my husband in a mama-like tone, “Now, put all of your items back!” which made us all laugh out loud together.

That laughter seemed to be an invitation for her to talk with us. But, she wasn’t talking just to talk.

She started beaming about God’s goodness in her life.

It couldn’t have been more than five or six minutes tops, but in that time we learned so much about this petite, humble woman named Carmen. As she mopped the floor, we learned how incredibly grateful she is for her job. How she lost both of her parents at a young age. How a loving grandfather raised her and, when he died, how an equally loving cousin finished raising her. How she’s now happily married with three children.

How everything she does – including her work as a janitor – is from a heart overflowing with love. And how that love brims over because of how deep and wide God loves her.

She was so genuine. Even with a mask on her face, we could see the brightness of her smile. Her eyes literally sparkled. The joy was all over her body. She was filled with Light.

In sharing her story, Carmen ushered in God’s love. She reminded us that He was already in that tiny room with us. While still riding waves of pain, I also felt joy. Calm. Peace.

We thanked Carmen for blessing us in sharing her story. And after she wished us well and moved on to the next room, I started wiping my eyes. As tears of gratitude fell down my cheeks, my husband wiped his own eyes and said, “Yep, I know. Same here.”

A stranger touched our hearts in a way we won’t soon forget. Carmen made one of our toughest days also one of our most blessed days. And while I’m so grateful for the medical team’s work to heal my body, meeting her – even for just a few minutes – was good healing too, from the inside out.

xoxo 

Still Here

5 Replies

Dad slipped away quietly one year ago today. And, oh, how I miss him.

I remember that day in vivid detail. The steady rain. The chill in the air. How I knew he’d passed when hospice’s number appeared on my phone screen. How I let it go to voicemail because I was taking our teen to school, and my mama heart knows when to delay hard moments.

I hesitated before calling because I knew that, after 12 days of incredibly gentle and beautiful hospice care, Dad was gone. Calling hospice would – and did – make it all real.

In that moment, I felt so many emotions. I remember feeling heavy loss and sadness, but also humbled that I would be the one to see Dad and stay with him until the funeral home arrived to help us with next steps. I remember answering the kind hospice worker’s questions, pausing ever so often to hug another staff member at the memory care home who came to say goodbye to Dad and offer condolences. I remember being comforted by staff and comforting them, too. How I stroked Dad’s snow-white hair one last time and kissed his forehead.

I miss Dad and will always miss him. Yet, I’m very, very aware that he’s also still here, with us.

He’s with me every time I cook his sweet potato pie. He’s in my kindergartener’s mischief, my teen’s mathematical graphing with perfect lines, my daughter’s creative expression. He’s in the work my sister does so beautifully on behalf of schoolkids each day. He’s in every single one of his grandchildren’s smiles.

We all had to let go of Dad’s physical presence with us. Yet, these moments remind me that he lives on in all of us. That he’s still here. And that, even in missing Dad, he’s really not far away at all.

xoxo

Running

6 Replies

Sooooo, is it just me, or has 2024 arrived with some sass and major attitude?

As 2023 faded away, I had high hopes that the new year would at least try to be on Santa’s Nice List for 2024. At least start out on the good foot (nod to The Godfather of Soul James Brown).

But, nope.

I’ll spare you all the details. But, let’s just say that flu, seriously ill loved ones, and sleep deprivation are just a few highlight reels this year … and we’re only 2 weeks in.

Yet, even with its bumpy start, 2024 has also found me hopeful and thankful. Growing up, I recall elders insisting that “God knows how much we can bear.” Their words meant little to me as a child. As an adult, I know their wisdom is spot-on . . . especially when it feels like life is piling a lot on us, without any signs of letting up.

Life can be hard, y’all. We know this. But, when I look back and inside and all around me, I can’t deny the blessings of God’s mercy, love, and grace in my life. They’re there, way too many moments to count. So, yes, more than anything, I am hopeful and thankful . . . even in my weariness and frustration and sadness at times.

Photo by Bruno Nascimento on Unsplash

So listen up, 2024: It’s still early. You’ve got lots of opportunities to turn yourself around. And, I’d certainly appreciate you doing so. But, even if you decide to keep running toward Santa’s Naughty List, I’ll keep running toward hope and gratitude.

xoxo
P.S. Cue up this goodie* when the weight of the world gets a bit heavy.
(* I don’t own the rights to this song. It’s just a fav.)

A Fond Farewell

15 Replies

As 2024 peeks around the corner, the optimist in me hopes for a kinder, gentler year ahead. After all, this year arrived with its fair share of Goliath-sized mountains to climb. Only a few weeks into 2023, Dad passed away. COVID-19 flanked our family, making me so ill I missed his funeral. Friends and loved ones visited the hospital a lot this year, and some are no longer here to see 2023 end. And, when the autumn leaves began taking over our yard, a health concern found me lying on a biopsy table.

Yet, this year also brought mountaintops, blessed moments of rest and joy after navigating life’s ups and downs. Hubby and I celebrated our 25th anniversary. Our kiddos are healthy and holding their own, in and out of school. Gatherings found us surrounded by love and joy with family and friends. That health scare I had? Thank God, I’m A-okay. And just this week, Hallmark Mahogany featured my writing as a guest post.

As the youngins say, life be lifing. But, it’s still life. And, this year often reminded me that life is such an incredible gift. Understanding this is how Dad could genuinely say on Day 3 of hospice, “I’m blessed. We’re blessed.” He knew, and was forever grateful, that life itself is a blessing. And especially because he’s now flying high with Mom, I’m clinging to the wisdom in his words a little tighter as this year passes the baton to the next.

So, farewell, 2023. Even when it hurt, thank you for reminding me of how precious life is, each day. You made me climb some rugged mountains that brought me to my knees … and, you lifted me back up with mountaintop moments that brought greater peace, strength, and gratitude for God’s blessings in my life. Because of you, this is my warrior song* as I look to the new year ahead.

2024, you’ve got next.
xoxo

* I do not own the rights to this song. I just adore it.

Knowing

5 Replies

Years ago, I worked for a large school district. Whenever we hit red tape and roadblocks, my mentor Carol would smile at me and ask, “Can you live with ambiguity?” And each time I’d reply with a grimace and mutter, “Nope.”

I’m one of those recovering perfectionists whose comfort zone is clarity. Understanding who, what, when, how and why is my jam.  Frustration often creeps in when details are MIA. When Life brings questions I can’t answer. And, I’m sure I’m not alone . . .

Everyone keeps asking what I want to be when I grow up, but I have no idea. I’m only 15. When will I know?

Why was my best friend just downsized? She and her husband have a baby on the way, and she’s been so dedicated to that company for years.

Is it time for me to leave my full-time job and start my dream business?

For those of us whose comfort zone is all about having answers at the ready, not knowing can stress us out.  But, no matter how much we try, Life’s questions can’t always be answered how or when we want them. Some questions stump us. Keep us up at night, or wake us up early in the morning, our minds racing way ahead of our alarm clocks. Often, we must allow time to pass so that we can live into our questions, for answers.

And, sometimes, answers won’t come at all.

When this happens, we have a choice:  

Remain frustrated in not knowing the answer,
or trust God who literally knows everything.

My fav Scripture reminds me that God knows the beginning, middle, and end of our stories and that He has our backs:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11 NIV)

Jeremiah helped me get through some of my biggest Why moments. When we lost Mom unexpectedly. Caring for Dad in our home when our surprise baby blessed us. When COVID-19 kept me from Dad’s funeral.

But not just big Life moments. So many smaller ones, too, that often feel bigger than they actually are, but can still make me feel out-of-sorts. Jeremiah’s words remind me to rest in knowing that God knows all and holds us in His perfect love every day, in every way.

I breathe easier when I remember Jeremiah 29:11. Hope you will, too.

xo,
karin

A Kind of Kindness

10 Replies

Writing again feels so good. I’ve been navigating a swept-away season since the birth of our LO 3 years ago. Stretch-and-grow moments have been plentiful since then. Time for capturing those moments here? Not so much.

But, seasons change and mine is evolving again. So, onward we go. And, I’ll start with a lesson that still requires lots of practice:

While this idea is pretty universal, it’s especially for my fellow people-pleasers. We’re often described as “thoughtful” and “kind.” But, extending kindness to ourselves with zero guilt? Well, that can be a pretty tall order for us.

I struggle with this often. A prime example: When to schedule a long overdue medical procedure. My body tells me almost daily to be kinder to myself. Sometimes it’s a whisper; other times, a shout.

I know I’ll feel better once it’s done. But, I’m stuck on how to fit a procedure + recovery into my work sked and a multilayered calendar. (Fact: When moms are out of commission, a lot can happen in several days. IJS.) Balancing What’s good for everyone else? and How soon can I feel better? feels like herding cats … pretty impossible.

See, we people-pleasers hate being an inconvenience, especially to those closest to us. We usually adjust for others’ comfort. We often sacrifice our own needs to ensure theirs are met first. In our hearts and minds, not putting others first feels strange, wrong, unloving.

And unkind.

It’s how some of us end up delaying a medical procedure for 3 years.

So, I get it – even as I’m still working on living the lesson: Self-kindness requires mindful courage rooted in honoring my own worth. Making tiny and not-so-tiny decisions based on what I need isn’t selfish. And being kind to ourselves is one of the greatest kindnesses, indeed.