Last night the Aurora Borealis was supposed to be visible here where I live, in parts of southeast Wisconsin. As it turned out, Mark Baden told us on the 10 o’clock news that viewing wouldn’t be very good with our cloud cover, so I went to bed early.
I grew up in northwestern Wisconsin, in what’s called Indianhead Country. We saw the northern lights with such regularity that many times I would barely glance at the luminous colors wiggling and dancing their way across the inky black sky. Many times, driving home from a school function or from my high school job at the grocery store deli, I barely took note of those amazing veils of light.
Why do we DO that? Why do we look around and as our landscape is steady and regular, why do we take it for granted? Even when beauty and amazingness is sitting right there for us to enjoy and appreciate?
This is the kind of thing — what NOT to do — that I try to remind myself of when… Amy spills her full bowl of cereal and milk all over the table at 7:15 this morning. And when she reacts by screaming about it, instead of grabbing a towel. And yet again when she throws her fully clothed body onto the table, into the mess, apparently to make the point that she’s peeved… all while I’m in the bathroom upstairs, taking care of, uh, business.
…and when Kate decides that loving the cat means squeezing the stuffing out of her. Which my loyal feline, Beethoven, doesn’t much like. Which my 7-year-old should completely understand and respect by now. Which somehow I cannot get through her cute little head.
…and when Claire looks at me with complete hostility and is silently wishing I wasn’t her mother. (Right in those moments? In the past, before I gained all this hard-earned wisdom and roadmap of scars all over my body? I just *might* have been having similar thoughts about HER….)
But now. NOW I have stared down the bizarre and debilitating disease of hyperaldosteronism and sacrificed an adrenal gland to save myself from it… NOW that I have faced the hereditary breast cancer beast and removed everything I could to keep the monster away….
Now?
While I’m convinced I’m more grateful for each day, that each hug from Hubby is more meaningful, that every time one of my girls laugh might be another sign for an angel receiving its wings….
I cannot help but admit that my children can still drive me out of what’s left of my ever-loving mind.
But now I have to accept that this is exactly what I begged God for over the last months.
Thank you, Lord, for everything.
{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }
OMG, I just so love you. Do you understand what it is that you see???
Nice! Again, so glad to have you back to blogging – you always make my day!
I’m so glad Lisa told me about your site. Great writing, and funny too.
Great post. Strange how a brush with our mortality can shake and shape us up a bit. Just remember–we all have jobs in this world. Part of the job of a child at any given age is to drive their mother absolutely nuts. Most hone their skills until they achieve a superior level.