Micah doesn't talk about it often. A nightmare here; a "thankful to be alive" there. I don't ever bring it up on my own, but my ears are always available. When he chooses, it's about June 1st. It's the day I answered the phone and thought he wasn't coming home. It's the day the world literally stood still.
It's like this: When God gives you eight lives, you assume the ninth is worth keeping in your hip pocket. That's the strategy that brought him home. That's the reason we are where we are right now. It's not how we thought it was play out, but it's part of the journey. Another page; another chapter. Another reason to wake up. Another way to connect with others.
Sometimes I feel like this is a part of life that I'm just toughing out. I've been in this place before. It's the relentless rip current that makes you panic and flap your arms like a crazy person until somebody yells, "Swim sideways." ('Cause that's what you do, P.S.) I don't like the flapping of the arms phase, though, and I'm working hard trying to remember to swim sideways; to dig myself out of the negativity and mundane. It ain't pretty, but I'm learning. Slowing but surely. Messy but honest. War and then peace. Mourn and then dance. On and on the pendulum swings.
In other news, we survived the first week. Okay, that's a lie. We survived the first three days. Dude got sick and we were forced to spend Thursday and Friday snuggled on the couch watching Mickey Mouse and eating rainbow sherbet. Truthfully, I'm a little bit grateful for that. (The snuggles and sherbet... not the sickness.) My heart needed some Benjamin time and Jesus loves me.
Tell me about your opinions if you'd like. I'd love to listen. If you have questions about Afghanistan, Down syndrome, Jesus or anything else on your heart, shoot me an email. Also, if you have a business and you're interested in promoting it on this blog, holler. And if hollering doesn't work... email me.
Until next time... Smile. It makes your butt tingle.
"A true writer has to write even with no one to read." -Beth Moore