These hands
Years ago I wrote for the first time about my mental health. I was nervous to share with the world my imperfections. At first I only shared my writings with a few friends, but as I learned more about depression and bipolar I realized that many of us are walking similar paths, we're just too afraid to share our stories. Strangers started sending emails telling me how encouraged they were by my boldness, and search for hope and joy even though my mind shouted lies at me. I started to realize that we need each other, we were meant to live all of life together. I began to see that sometimes the best way to heal was to simply trust somebody enough to share our thoughts with. Ever since then I have worked hard to be open and honest about both my joys and my heartache.
The last week or so I'm realizing it's time to start talking about these hands of mine. On the left I wear my wedding bands with my boys birthstones added in, because these four guys are my most prized treasure. On the right I wear a more simple band that represents ten years of marriage, of unspeakable joy, and of heavy moments shared with my best friend. These hands have held babies and everything that comes with them, made countless meals for my family, friends, and even strangers. These hands have worked late into the night on handcrafted gifts and cards. They have prepped five years of school lessons, made thousands of beds, and even more pizza's. They have climbed trees, been on many fishing/hiking trips, and have participated in four years of scouting. These fingers signed papers in front of a judge making our family of four grow by one more boy. It's pretty incredible all the things these hands of mine have experienced, and the ways they have been used to love other people.
A few years ago they began to fail me. Everybody thought it was related to my epic back injury. It came and went never lasting too long... At least in the beginning. I was easily able to manage it. The doctors said my back just needed time to heal... But now every night I wear braces to sleep so the pain and numbness doesn't keep me awake. This week my big ones have asked to make jam with me it's a tradition we have always done, a skill taught to me by my grandmother, and one of my yearly highlights. But these days I'm known to drop just about everything. Sometimes it takes two or three tries to make a bottle, because my fingers are too clumsy. The thought of dropping a jar of boiling jam is a very real possibility that terrifies me. I have started buying all my foods pre-cut, canned or frozen, we live off of casseroles, simple, easy, SAFE. Recently I dropped a pen while writing my signature, a jug of milk while taking it out of the fridge, and my coffee while trying to sip it. While the doctors work hard to find a solution I am working hard to find the joy in this new phase of life.
Somethings I am thankful for:
~ Big boys to help with the babe.
~ A big yard to play in.
~ A Hubby who lets me ugly cry when my body hurts too much, or when I'm emotionally spent.
~ Friends who check in and love me.
~ People who have gone before me.
~ Friends who go with the flow.
~ Being shown grace after grace, being loved despite my flaws and inabilities.
~ Doctors who care.
~ Boys who are willing to help with words, actions, and affection.
~ Family and friends who babysits allowing me to go to all of my appointments.
~ Summer vacation.
~ No longer being a foster parent.
~ A Sister-friend who created an epic adoption party for us.
~ The gift of being prayed for.
The last week or so I'm realizing it's time to start talking about these hands of mine. On the left I wear my wedding bands with my boys birthstones added in, because these four guys are my most prized treasure. On the right I wear a more simple band that represents ten years of marriage, of unspeakable joy, and of heavy moments shared with my best friend. These hands have held babies and everything that comes with them, made countless meals for my family, friends, and even strangers. These hands have worked late into the night on handcrafted gifts and cards. They have prepped five years of school lessons, made thousands of beds, and even more pizza's. They have climbed trees, been on many fishing/hiking trips, and have participated in four years of scouting. These fingers signed papers in front of a judge making our family of four grow by one more boy. It's pretty incredible all the things these hands of mine have experienced, and the ways they have been used to love other people.
A few years ago they began to fail me. Everybody thought it was related to my epic back injury. It came and went never lasting too long... At least in the beginning. I was easily able to manage it. The doctors said my back just needed time to heal... But now every night I wear braces to sleep so the pain and numbness doesn't keep me awake. This week my big ones have asked to make jam with me it's a tradition we have always done, a skill taught to me by my grandmother, and one of my yearly highlights. But these days I'm known to drop just about everything. Sometimes it takes two or three tries to make a bottle, because my fingers are too clumsy. The thought of dropping a jar of boiling jam is a very real possibility that terrifies me. I have started buying all my foods pre-cut, canned or frozen, we live off of casseroles, simple, easy, SAFE. Recently I dropped a pen while writing my signature, a jug of milk while taking it out of the fridge, and my coffee while trying to sip it. While the doctors work hard to find a solution I am working hard to find the joy in this new phase of life.
Somethings I am thankful for:
~ Big boys to help with the babe.
~ A big yard to play in.
~ A Hubby who lets me ugly cry when my body hurts too much, or when I'm emotionally spent.
~ Friends who check in and love me.
~ People who have gone before me.
~ Friends who go with the flow.
~ Being shown grace after grace, being loved despite my flaws and inabilities.
~ Doctors who care.
~ Boys who are willing to help with words, actions, and affection.
~ Family and friends who babysits allowing me to go to all of my appointments.
~ Summer vacation.
~ No longer being a foster parent.
~ A Sister-friend who created an epic adoption party for us.
~ The gift of being prayed for.
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