Perspective

A few months ago my cousin posted a link on FaceBook to a blog written by a family living where I grew up. The family was losing their little boy to cancer. I began to read their blog often, mesmerized, really, by the mother's faith, something I've become quite envious of, because I talk the talk but can't, or don't, really walk the walk.

Yesterday, we celebrated my baby girl's ninth birthday. My strawberry haired, blue-eyed, freckled, bespectacled and too much like me baby girl. I took cupcakes to her school, and came home with my littles. Watching them play, I read the previous day's post. And cried. A mommy was mourning her baby.

Today I read that another mommy in our little world also mourns her baby. A teacher in my girls' school, who has been helping her son fight a debilitating disease, is done with that part of the fight. And, again, I cry.

I look around at the mess that's made, the crumbs, the toys, the dishes, the laundry (oh, the laundry) strewn in this little yellow house that we desperately want to move from to a home with more space, but aren't sure we can afford to. This little yellow house desperately wants us to stay, having taken so much from us in the last few years in fixes, additions and repairs, sometimes we feel we have no choice BUT to stay. It's sucked us in.

Crumbs and toys and mess and noise and laundry will follow us, regardless of size and color of our home. In the matter of 24 hours I've learned of two mothers whose houses suddenly got bigger, and not because they changed addresses. Not because of anything of their choosing. Even attempting the thought of trying to picture this little yellow house without all of the littles just takes my breath away. But those two moms keep breathing. They have other littles, too.

In a few hours extra girls will descend our little yellow house to spend the night in our crazy zoo and celebrate the blue eyed blonde who is too much like me. It will be loud, it will be hard, it will be messy.

But I've got to keep it in perspective.

Don't Ask

I've always been turned off by certain questions. Enough so that I learned not to ask them.

Many years ago people would ask me and my long-time boyfriend when we were going to get married. Truth be told I eventually began wondering that myself! It wasn't until after we were married, when questions continued, that I began to realize how much asking what is perceived as an innocent question can actually cause hurt.

"When are you going to buy a house?"
"When are you going to get a new car?"
"Are you planning to look for a new job?"
"You'd better start a family soon, don't you think?"

Curiosity driven, innocent sounding questions, that can cut like a knife, and stir up emotions that you have no idea are sitting under the surface.

I learned not to ask questions like that. One, because it's really none of my business. And two, because we knew, and continue to know, the hurts that come with questions like those. I never wanted to be the cause of someone feeling that sort of hurt.

So that question that you might want to ask, or have asked, or will ask.... don't. Not unless you are ready for me to tell you maybe something you don't want to hear.