Hawaii 2012 Detail Blog - Part 1

I've needed to write about our trip to Hawaii for almost a year now, and I think it's a good time to reflect on the good/bad, etc. of our trip... mostly for us to recall for the future and partly for anyone who might be interested in taking a Hawaii trip in the future.  I have been asked by several people to detail the trip for information purposes - so this is not my average blog.  It will be largely informational.

First, a little bit about the timing of our trip - since so many have asked what a good time of year to visit Hawaii actually is.  We intentionally chose a time of year when many children would be heading back to school and out of typical "tourist season".  In the months prior to our trip I had heard horror stories of whole weeks of all-day rain and giant, man-eating mosquitoes, but I can honestly say that our entire trip was made of beautiful, 70-80 degree days, tropical breezes, light rains off and on throughout the days/nights, and plenty of rainbows.  I hear that this is truly typical Hawaiian weather.  The man at our luau teasingly told Mark, "Yeah, here in Hawaii we have four seasons too, you know,... football season, hockey season, basketball season, and baseball season."

We booked all of our flights/tickets by ourselves, because we wanted to split up the flights a little bit and see some family.  We left out of our local regional airport on Friday, August 24.  We stayed overnight with my sister and brother-in-law who were stationed (at the time) with The Navy in Southern California.  She picked us up late Friday night and took us to Jack-in-the-Box (a first for us) for a late supper.  The next morning we had a lovely breakfast with my sister, and she took us to the airport.  We knew we had a long flight ahead of us, and I was dreading it because of some back issues I had in July.  I had booked our flights with Alaska Air back in the Spring.  After my back injury, I called them back and asked about their in-flight policies on standing/walking (which are my favorite things to do these days).  She advised that the flight sometimes offers last-minute discounts on first-class fares and suggested snapping one up if given the opportunity at the gate.  We did just that, and it may have been one of our best decisions throughout the trip.  My physical therapist had also prescribed at TENS unit - which I used on all of our flights with no troubles at all.  I was a little worried that - with all the wires and buttons associated with the unit - it might cause a security issue, but it didn't.  We both agreed that this might be our only ever first class flight, and we intended to enjoy it.  It was heavenly - in just about every conceivable way.  The meals, drinks, entertainment, etc. were all exceptional and put us in the "Hawaii mood" - with flowers, native foods, etc.  Our experience with Alaska Air was overwhelmingly positive, and I would definitely fly with them again.

The rest of the trip description will consist largely of photos.

Our first view of the Hawaiian Islands from the plane

We arrived in Hawaii (after losing 5 hours total in flight) at 1:00 PM Hawaii time.  We stayed at the Ala Moana Hotel in Honolulu Saturday night and Sunday night.

Ala Moana Hotel, Honolulu

This photo was taken on our way to our first hotel.

First of many Hawaiian rainbows (Aug 25)

We picked the Ala Moana Hotel, because it was relatively inexpensive, close to the beach, and close to Pearl Harbor/Arizona Memorial - which was the whole reason we decided to spend any time on that particular island at all.  We found it very beautiful and luxurious inside.  We didn't make use of the valet services or the bell hops, and that saved us a bit of money.  Our room had a refrigerator defrost leak, and they promptly sent up a man to fix it.  The room was nothing particularly special, but we were only there for sleeping.  So it suited us very well.

The first night, we were pretty tired from two days of traveling.  So we checked out the area around our hotel, did a little window shopping, and then we ate supper here:

Bubba Gump Shrimp, Honolulu

We kind of hated ourselves for picking Bubba Gump, because we had eaten at some other Bubba Gump restaurants around the continental U.S. in the past and wanted to experience some new things, but it was close, and I really wanted seafood.  Most everything is outdoors in Hawaii.  Even the restaurants are mostly open-air.  The waiting area was open air, and the restaurant itself had nice breezes blowing through it.  It was a delicious meal, and we were happy to have gone.

We went on a short walk at the Ala Moana Beach Park across the street from our hotel and decided to head back to the hotel and snuggle in early, because between jet lag and an early morning tour at U.S.S. Arizona memorial scheduled for Sunday morning, we knew we needed some rest.

We arrived at Pearl Harbor memorial sites a few minutes late for our scheduled tour, but they let us aboard anyway.  We decided to tour The Arizona Memorial, the U.S.S. Bowfin submarine, and the Battleship Missouri.  All of these attractions were exceptional.  I would suggest that, if you're pressed for time, The Arizona Memorial and The Missouri are "must see" attractions.  We did the self-guided audio tours of all of the attractions, and we loved them.  They are all very well done.

U.S.S. Bowfin

A cute, little, old Hawaiian lady asked us if she could take our picture in several locations on the Bowfin.
Here is one of the photo outcomes - with us Geeking out in our headsets.

Our favorite part of the day's tours - The Battleship Missouri

Captain's Chair Me

We got back to the hotel around evening and ate supper at Ruby Tuesday near our hotel.  That night we spent more time at the Ala Moana Beach Park.  Maybe it was because it was a Sunday night, but it wasn't very busy at all.  There were a few couples here and there and a family of locals.  Best of all, there were some paddle-boarders just offshore.  The beach was quiet, the sun was setting in breathtaking fashion, and although I would say that Honolulu was my least favorite part of our trip (because it was city-like and congested), that Sunday evening was one of the most romantic of a very romantic trip.

my hunka man at Ala Moana Beach Park Sunday evening

me at same

Lovers/Friends

first toes in the Hawaiian water

paddle boarders on the horizon
made it seem like centuries gone by

After the sun set, we walked over to a shopping center that had a movie theater and a Cold Stone Creamery.  I had printed out several Internet coupons for Cold Stone Hawaii locations.  So we ate "meals" there a couple of times.  We sat in the beautiful, breezy outdoors and ate ice cream.  Then we walked back to the hotel and packed for the "puddle-jumper"to Maui the following day.  

We awoke Monday, August 27 to Facetime with the kids back home - which we loved, of course.  It took a bit of effort to keep track of what times they would be asleep, etc. because of the time difference.  So calling first thing when we woke up was always a good thing.  We checked out of the Ala Moana in the morning, and we set off to find a place for breakfast.  Apps like Yelp and Trip Advisor came in very handy on this trip.  We were able to get immediate reviews on local places and directions to same.  That morning, however, we were unable to locate any of the places we had mapped, and it was late morning.  Our flight was scheduled to leave Honolulu airport at 1:30 PM.  So we decided to go to the Hololulu airport early, return our rental car, and find a place to eat there - as it was flush with restaurants and shops.  Enter Go! Airlines.  It is an inter-island airline (and I use the term  "airline" very loosely).  I won't waste time making a full review of Go!, but it was an overwhelmingly negative experience.  The flight was late.  There were no attendants advising of flight status (or even one around to ask).  Their planes are old, and the baggage compartments are very small.  Therefore, traditional carry-on sizes wouldn't fit in luggage compartments and had to be checked at exorbitant fees.  The worst part was that the terminal was dislocated from the main Honolulu Airport terminal.  It was located in a very dated, broken-down building that housed another inter-island airline.  There was no restaurant, but there were $10 stale sandwiches (and I mean the kind you make yourself for lunch with regular bread) and $5 bags of chips at a stand at the end of the airport.  So that was our breakfast.   There is more to the story - no AC on the plane, interesting baggage handling practices, etc., but I don't want to do a full review here.  Suffice it to say I wouldn't suggest using Go! Airlines.  It is cheaper, but you get what you pay for when it comes to Go!. 

first view of Maui

Maui's Kahului airport

We flew into Kahului Airport in Maui, and it was another "open air" airport - dated but very pleasant.

Our first stop after we picked up our rental car was to the grocery store.  We picked up food for the four days we would be in the condo - which was located between Hana and Kipahulu on Maui's eastern coast.  Then we started our 3 hour drive to Hana.  According to wikipedia, "although Hāna is only about 52 miles (84 km) from Kahului, it takes about 2.5 hours to drive when no stops are made as the highway is very winding and narrow and passes over 59 bridges, 46 of which are only one lane wide. There are approximately 620 curves along Route 360 from just east of Kahului to Hāna, virtually all of it through lush, tropical rainforest. Many of the concrete and steel bridges date back to 1910 and all but one are still in use."  My husband drove the whole time, and he found the northern part of the Hana Highway to be a challenging drive, but it was the southern part of the road (past Hana) that was truly more treacherous.  The south road was barely paved in many places and had many steep, cliff-like edges without guard rails.  The locals take both north and south roads at what we inexperienced Hana Highwayers would consider break-neck speeds, but the southern road is more treacherous by far and is consequently one of the areas not covered by rental car contracts.  Admittedly, we did drive the south road in the middle of the night to get to our sunrise bike tour, but that comes later.  

surfers on the Maui's north shore

We learned a little about Hawaiian politics.

This is from our first drive up The Road to Hana.

more surfers on the north shore

The side of the road opposite the coastal side was almost all ranch/farm land,
which we found very interesting in the middle of the tropical landscape.

Northeastern Shore of Maui

hidden gully

Notice the rain in the background of this photo.  We found this was typical of Maui weather - lots of sprinkles/misty rain that would last for a few minutes with the sun still visible in the sky.

I took this as the sun had finally set on our first trip to Hana.

We arrived at Ala'aina' Ocean Vista Bed and Breakfast after 10:00 PM on the 27th, and we settled in for the night.  As we were taking things from the car to our room, we kept hearing loud thuds - as things were hitting the ground around us, and we found out the next day that they had been ripe mangoes that were falling from centuries-old mango trees in the yard.  Fortunately, we made it to our room without being hit by flying fruit and started checking out the place in the dark.  I have to say I loved Ala'aina.  I could live there.  I could die there.  It was one of the most sincerely serene places I've ever been.  It was completely run on solar power, and the water system consisted of reclaimed rain water.  My husband wasn't a huge fan of that system - because the electricity was a little dim at night, the LP gas refrigerator was a little warmer than he would have liked, and water didn't get hot right away.  I thought these were small prices to pay for the blessing of relaxation.  There was no AC, but, honestly, even when we had the option of AC on the trip, we never used it.  We just opened windows, and we were more than comfortable - as if humanity was designed with a mild tropical climate in mind.    I wasn't able to use curling iron, blow dryers, or things like that, and that made it feel like vacation to me!  There are few places/times in my life when I've felt completely free to go all "hippie"... wear what I like, let my hair run wild, etc.  (If you know me at all, you will be thinking right about now, "Let her hair run wild?  I thought she always did that."  To that I can only say that I've become fairly certain that my hair is its own entity, and I do my best to tame it.)  Without beauty tools at my disposal, I felt free... and the birds quite possibly felt a sudden sense of security - as if nesting materials might temporarily be in more abundant supply.  

We spent the next morning exploring the property of Ala'aina Ocean Vista, and these are some of the breathtaking things we saw:

view to the south of the room

view to the east of the room

beautiful gardens at the bottom of the stairs off our deck

view inland (behind) the property
The tree to the far left is a century-old mango tree.  The tree in the middle foreground is an avocado tree.

My absolute favorite feature of this property, the outdoor shower and tub were located just outside our living quarters in the middle of the garden overlooking the ocean.  Although the room had an indoor glass block shower, we enjoyed these facilities so much more!  It was a first for me to bathe outdoors, but it was a perfectly lovely, one-of-a-kind experience I'll never match.  If I ever had the chance myself, I'd definitely make one of these tubs a part of my garden.  The tub drained out into the garden area and fed the plants.

a snail friend we found in one of the gardens

the main house of Ala 'aina' Ocean Vista

The Hana Highway - south road... This was the more treacherous part of the drive - although extremely beautiful and secluded.  This was on our way to an out-of-the-way waterfall that Samahdi (the B and B owner) told us we could hike to and swim in alone.

some fresh avocado from one of the trees at Ala'aina'

We had gone down to the waterfall that Samahdi had told us we would find to be romantic and deserted - both of which were true.  It hadn't rained much in the few days prior to our going there.  Consequently, there was only a trickle of water flowing over the rocks into the pool below.  The pool was shallow at the edges and deep in the middle and very chilly.  The air temperature in the sun in Hawaii is a tropical 78-85 degrees on average.  In the shade of this rocky area, the air temp was probably around 72.  The water was frigid.  However, I decided that swimming in this pool was a must.  I knew I might never have the opportunity again.  So I went in up to my waist.  After MUCH convincing, Mark came out with me, and we swam awhile.  When I went to get out, my feet were very tender in response to the rocks on the pool bottom.  Mark teased and teased me the whole way out of the pool - saying I looked like a monkey.

Me in the waterfall pool - notice the small trickle of water over the rocks...

This next series of photos is of one of my favorite moments in Hawaii... definitely one of my favorite moments in our married life.  This was a visual representation of how our marriage most often works.  We are laughers.  We tease one another.  We can laugh at ourselves and each other without fear of hurt feelings or insecurity.  It is so nice to be that kind of vulnerable with another person.  It's not uncommon for us to laugh until we can't breathe, but this is the only time to date that marital phenomenon has been captured photographically.

When Mark saw this, I asked him if he'd be embarrassed if I posted it on Facebook, and he said, "There was a time when I wouldn't have liked that, but I'm fine with it.  It's funny."  One of his friends from work gave me a hard time, saying he wouldn't appreciate the posting, but happily I was able to respond that I had asked him,and he was fine with it.  Totally secure in who he is, he is more attractive to me every day.

These are some interesting trees we saw on the hike to the falls.

After spending Monday exploring the private falls, we headed back to spend the afternoon/evening making dinner and enjoying a quiet evening at Ala'aina'.

View from our deck

the dining area - outdoors like most everything else was

the view from the deck into part of our bedroom/bathroom

The outdoor kitchen was one of my other favorite parts about this property.  We cooked many delicious meals out here on the burner.  The refrigerator was LP-powered and whisper quiet.  The area was perfectly adequate for cooking.

our unmade bed - happy to say I didn't make a single bed the whole vacation 

the big, beautiful glass block shower (didn't get much use because of the outdoor option)

The second night we stayed in Kipahulu (August 28) we traveled the south Hana road to a bike company that did sunrise bike tours from the top of the Haleakala volcano crater to the base of the mountain.  We were really looking forward to this part of our vacation.  We went to bed early the night before the tour, and we woke up at 12:30am to get to the bike company on the other side of the island by 3:00am.  We saw some wild pigs and some mongoose on the way there.  We really enjoyed the tour.  It was very educational and just, plain fun.  The top of the mountain was a little chilly and rainy during the sunrise time, but there were hot drinks and snuggling in the visitor's station at the top of the mountain, and we got in on that and made the best of a rainy morning.  We stopped for breakfast on the way down the mountainside at a restaurant that overlooked the rest of the island and ocean.  It was fantastic.

at the top of Haleakala bike tour staging area

On the way back up to Ala 'aina' we got to see more of the Hana Highway in the daylight hours.  We stopped for some fresh pineapple and shave ice.  We stopped at some roadside markets and got some souvenirs.  Mark bought me a flower shell necklace.  We got home toward evening and cooked dinner in the outdoor kitchen and turned in early.

some of the falls on the Hana Highway

This concludes part one of the blog about the Hawaii 2012 trip.  There is a lot more to come, but I have to pace myself time-wise.  It has taken me a week to get this one done.  I hope it was informative.  If you have any questions, leave them in the comment area, and I'll try to get back to you.  

Expectant Mothers

Tomorrow's the day - Mother's Day.  For me, Mother's Day is the last holiday in a line of almost constant gift-expectation holidays for me starting with Valentine's Day (V-Day) in February, my birthday in March (B-Day), our wedding anniversary in April (A-Day), and now M-Day.  I should be ashamed to tell you, but I always hope that something special will happen on any or all of these holidays, but on Mother's Day maybe I hope for that more than the other days.  Maybe that's because I have several children - which translates in my mind to several chances that one of those children might remember and think of something to make, write, or draw that doesn't necessarily consist of a hurriedly scratched out smiley face on a sheet of printer paper at 8:30 PM on Mother's Day.  Why?  I think it's also why I secretly think that, because I have more children than average, I have a better-than-average chance of one of my children growing up to be a world changer... you know:  President (not that I would wish that on anyone), Curer of Cancer, Astronaut (although, I guess they'd have to move to Russia to do that now), etc.  You get what I'm saying.

I try to convince myself that my "love language" is not receiving of gifts.  After all, I've gotten bib overalls, a humidifier, and the ever-popular bath products as gifts in the past.  Material gifts and I don't have a pleasant history.   I remember our first married Christmas together.  Mark agonized over what to get me and returned from an hours-long shopping trip with a seriously obvious, seriously gigantic basket of Walmart bath products.  When a person is able to purchase the equivalent of 5 gallons of bath soaps, gels, lotions, sprays, and salts for $19.97... I'm fairly certain said products might be capable of inducing a $50 dermatologist appointment.  

As I write this, I am thinking back on my gift-receiving history, and (aside from times I've told a person exactly what I hoped to receive)  I can't honestly think of a single gift that left a seriously good impression on me.  Am I just surrounded by bad gift givers?  Does nobody understand me?  Does nobody care?  Ridiculous.  The ugly truth is this:  I am a bad gift receiver.  Admiting even to myself  that I might expect even a "Happy Mother's Day" from my sweet, blessed offspring is disgusting to me.  I don't have a right to expect immature persons whom I love unconditionally to please me in any way.  Their very existence is a blessing that pleases me beyond words.  I don't have needs that I need my children need to fulfill.  Do I?

Mother - by definition is a "need filler" position.  It's a selfless occupation.  It is a thankless job.  That is what makes it so unique... so precious... so necessary.  

My own sweet mother is self-sacrificial to a fault.  She always has been - from my earliest remembrance.  I hope my own children remember me that way someday.  She taught me some things about motherhood.  Some of those things just since I've become a mother myself:  1) Never let your kids win an argument.  2) Never show them emotions that communicate weakness.  

I think these are two very interesting things.  I think some people might balk at them and think they're not nurturing attitudes, but... I think I know why she said those things.  Now that I have children who are old enough to want to argue with me, I understand why she said that they can't be allowed to "win" an argument.  When a child gets the impression he/she is smarter or more capable than a parent, and/or that the parent needs the child for any reason, the roles are reversed and the child ends up, at best, insecure.  At worst, the child ends up arrogant, selfish, and manipulative.  I would go one step further and say that our kids are not allowed to argue with us.  They are allowed to respectfully question and discuss a decision we've made as parents, but this creates an atmosphere where everyone is heard and no one "loses".  Full communication ends in shared understanding, and that is a win/win for everyone.  I find myself doing a lot more explaining about they "whys" of our decision making as parents than I ever remember receiving from my parents.  (It's likely I just don't remember.)  When it comes to communicating parental weakness to a child, I think back to an incident in which one of my girls' dad called her and cried to her over the phone because of some personal problems he was having at the time.  When she handed the phone back to me, she was scared, worried for him, and desperate to help him - even though he was 100 miles away.  However, being a child, she was completely unable to rescue him from his circumstances and was made very insecure for having been put in a position in which she felt she had to buoy him somehow.  When children feel we are dependent upon them to give us love, security, companionship, or anything else, they become unduly burdened with adult responsibilities which they aren't equipped emotionally, physically, or materially to handle.

Enter something different... I've discovered more and more in just the past few years that my children are exquisitely happy in the confidence that, although I don't need them for companionship, I want them for my companions.  I try to make them certain of the fact that, although I don't need them to do my work for or with me, I want to work alongside them for the sake of pure enjoyment of their presence.  I think this is the critical accompaniment to my mom's advice to me about not being rawly vulnerable to my children when it comes to my needs/wants/emotions.  Vulnerability is crucial - but only in the sense that genuineness teaches them about our own humanity without communicating neediness to the child.

I've been reading a book called Satisfy My Thirsty Soul by Linda Dillow.  In it, she discusses the importance of using our words in true and genuine communication, and I've been convicted that my words to the kids need to be encouraging.  I am reminded that trite compliments like, "You're pretty"; "You're awesome", or "You're the greatest kid in the world" do not feed my children's needs to feel uniquely precious and valuable to me specifically.  Just as a hurriedly scribbled card doesn't make me feel particularly appreciated as a mother, a rushed and thoughtless compliment doesn't ascribe true worth to the child but rather superficial, economical, "bargain basement" worth.  Dillow's book specifically speaks to how we address God - ascribing to him superficial compliments that are not well researched or thought-out.  Just as with earthly parents, God does not need anything from His children. He doesn't need our worship.  He doesn't need our good deeds.  He doesn't need our ministry.  He doesn't need our hearts.  He doesn't need our relationship with him.  He doesn't need us to answer an altar call or get baptized.  He is fullness of all within Himself - no help required.  

Colossians 1:16-18 says, "¹⁶ For by Him all things were created, both in the heavens and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things have been created through Him and for Him. ¹⁷ He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together. ¹⁸ He is also head of the body, the church; and He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, so that He Himself will come to have first place in everything.

Further, John 1:1-4 states, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. ² He was in the beginning with God. ³ All things came into being through Him, and apart from Him nothing came into being that has come into being. ⁴ In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men.    

It is clear to me from these verses that God is complete without any of my petty offerings.  However, just as I don't need love, attention, protection, or anything else from my children but instead desire those things as part of our growing relationship, God also desires that we would be a part of Him and has made every effort necessary to make that happen.  He needs nothing of me but challenges me to give Him everything I have and all of who I am in order that He might be glorified and I might be fulfilled in the deepest sense humanly possible.

So as I approach tomorrow (now two minutes away), I am faced with the fact that the words and languages of man can only give God a pittance of what He truly deserves... that my deepest thoughts about and love toward Him could not make Him feel anymore loved or fulfilled or desired - because He is full in a way we can never understand this side of heaven.  I am mindful that I scribble out a "smiley face card" to Him daily in my short times of prayer or praise when I could offer Him service and sacrifice more pleasant.  I am certain that the part of a mother that toils and sacrifices thanklessly is a breathtakingly beautiful reflection of a God Who knows nothing but toil and sacrifice on behalf of thankless offspring. 

I am deeply humbled that God has allowed me to mother five, delightful, precious, and unspeakably dear children who are far beyond my capacities to love and act selflessly.  I am thankful that I can learn from them.  I can hardly wait to see what God has in store for their lives.  They are already world-changers, and I expect Him to finish the work He's started in them and, by His grace, in me.

9 Stages of Vomit Grief

I don't know if it's just us, but we have spent this seemingly never-ending winter in an almost perpetual stomach virus merry-go-round.  Lest the term "merry-go-round" give you a pleasant picture in your mind, I have put together a brief blog about the 9 stages my husband and I go through at the first whiff of stomach virus.

Denial 

• “This can’t be happening right here (in a restaurant, in the chiropractor’s office, at Jiffy Lube, in Walmart)... right now... to us... for the fourth time this winter.” 
• "He was probably just overexcited.  You know how he gets."
• "Grandma probably just gave her too much junk food.  You know Grandma."
• "I bet I’m just carsick.  You know how I get."  

Anger

• “On my day off?  Seriously??”   or “I have to leave work AGAIN?  Seriously??” 
• “In my purse?  Seriously??”  
• “Why are you holding your hand in front of your mouth?  You’re shooting vomit everywhere! “  
• “Stop!  That’s my pillow!”  
• “Why didn’t you lift the toilet lid before you threw up?!”
• "How did she get this inside her shoes!?"
• "This is on the inside bill of his cap... that he was wearing while he was puking.  What is this new vertical vomit?!?"

Bargaining

• "Maybe it’s just a little kid 'bug'."  
• “Please, God, spare us this hideous plague!”
• "Babe, it's your turn.  I got the last one."
• "If you clean up this one, I'll clean your car - inside and out... every week... for life."  

Fear

Who’s next?  This is the stage when I start asking the kids which one of them had contact with the sick person in question and to what degree.  Then I start a mental reckoning of which one will go down first.  This is also the stage when these thoughts plague my mind:

• "I finished the rest of her oatmeal this morning!!"
• "I shared a drink with him last night!"  
• "You kissed me this morning!  Why would you do something so selfish?" 
• "They were over here yesterday with their germy kids!"  
• "Her kids were at swim lessons with mine yesterday!"  
• "Oh, no.  We all just ate spaghetti pizza!!!

This is also the same stage when the kids who aren’t sick say, “What’s for dinner mom," and my only response is, “What would you most like to throw up?”  And we officially start a bread, water, applesauce, banana diet that lasts until the 24 hours after the last vomit episode.

Guilt

• “Why am I grouching at a vomiting child?!  I am a hideous human being.”
•  “Why am I only worried about myself when I’m not even the one vomiting?  I am a despicable specimen of humanity.”
• “What could I have done to prevent this?  I should have washed my hands more.  I should have made the kids wash their hands more.”
• “I just took my kids to grandma’s house yesterday.  Now it’s going to be my fault when they get sick too.”

Excessive Disinfecting

This usually starts with the bathroom cleaning.  I start cleaning every crack and crevice in the bathroom in preparation for spending a lot of time in there.  The floors have to be clean enough to eat off of (or sleep on).  The toilets have to be cleaned and bleached and scrubbed and scrubbed again.  Then I lay down clean towels anywhere the kids might be... on carpet, on couches, in their beds.  I set out bowls and cans of Lysol.  I wash my hands after I touch anything that might have touched them in the last 3 days.  This process continues throughout the last two stages of vomiting grief.

Depression/Completely Irrational Self-Pity

• “Will this ever end?  There are seven people in this house!” 
• “Why did I think a big family was a good idea again?”
• “The newspaper said there was a new Norovirus from Australia.  How can they know that?!  Dumb Australians anyway.”  (Like I said - completely irrational.)

Acceptance

This is when I start to cancel anything happening in my life for the next week and texting anyone we were with in the last 48 hours that they are dooooomed.  

Premature Socialization

This is when I know that the kids are just a day or two out of the woods but none of us can stand being in the house together anymore with that smell that is stuck in our noses.  So we go out - maybe just to the grocery store or to the park, but, “Ahhhh...” it's the next best thing to Florida on Spring Break.

Girl... Interrupted

The last two weeks have been very trying ones around our house.  Two weeks ago today, I headed out of state to visit family with our 5 children for a "spring break" from our regularly scheduled programming.  15 minutes before we were to arrive at our destination, my 5 year old son vomited, and I don't mean a little carsickness.  I mean he vomited on people, in crevices, on pillows, blankets, coats, sisters, in bags of DVDs and yarn.  For some reason, my children think that a hand in front of the mouth might stop vomit from coming forth (because we all want to keep stomach acid mixed with partially digested food and virus in our bodies).  That hand actually acts as a vomit amplifier - propelling vomit in every conceivable direction... up, down, left, right, yes... even backwards.  There are those moments as a parent when I have observed a mess beyond the scope of my wildest nightmares and screamed to myself (silently in my head, of course), "Where am I supposed to even start to clean this up?!"  I felt so sorry for him as he stood outside the van without his vomit-covered coat.  (It had been 48 degrees when we left our own home only to find snow and wind chills of -20 three hours down the road.  As a result, his coat had been a vomit-casualty.)  I was standing behind him trying to keep the wind off his soaked body.  He started to cry, and I was trying desperately to find something that wasn't gross to put under his bottom and around his shoulders.  I was trying to find something to help clean up the mess.  I had been so happy not to have diapers on trips anymore, but there's a caveat to that - no wet wipes.  I dumped some things out of a Walmart sack and set it on his car seat, and he sat on it, and I drove as fast as possible to our destination.  (I figured that if we happened to get pulled over, one whiff of my world would get us a police escort to our destination.)

Well, I could elaborate on the rest of the sordid tale, but it went something like, "Hi, Grandma!  We brought vomit!"  3 loads of laundry, detailing vomit van in snow and  -20 degree wind chills.  "I feel better.  I was just carsick.  I can eat a full lunch and supper!"  3 hours of The Bachelor season finale that my father-in-law loves.  "Goodnight, everyone."  "Urp" (from the next room over).  Texting my husband on midnight shift, "Should we go home now?"  Waking up at 5:00AM with my daughter who isn't feeling well... loading up the van with buckets, bags, wipes, and Lysol on 4 hours of sleep to drive the long way home.  

We have since spent the past two weeks in stomach virus "hell".  We all know that stomach virus does its best work on children at night.  We went back to pull-ups.  We spent days passing bowls and washing hands.  We spent nights cleaning and changing bedding, washing vomit out of hair and clothes, and doing loads upon loads of laundry.  When I say "We", of course, I mean "I", because my husband has been away for work.  The one night a week he has been able to come home has been spent trying to keep him from getting sick too.  Oh, and our youngest ended up with a trip to the hospital and a 30 hour stay for dehydration. 

Yesterday was my birthday.  My love was home, and we went to church and then to lunch at a nice restaurant with our sweet kiddos.  A few months ago a friend of mine with two children told me that she and her husband always sit together when they're out with their children and that the kids sit on either side of them.  I thought, "Wow... must be nice."  We have spent most of our years together hearing, "I want to sit by mom," and "I want to sit by dad" and dividing ourselves as evenly as possible amongst five children.  Yesterday was no exception.  As we sat across from one another at a big, round table, we attempted to exchange a few words now and again consisting of "adult conversation".  When I say "a few words", take me literally.  Our older three children are 16, 11, and 9, and they rarely - if ever - interrupt our adult talk with loud stories about what they watched on Spongebob or what they named a new stuffed animal and why.  Rather, they contribute to it at appropriate times with appropriate conversation - which is an awesome part about having older children.  Then there's these two:

I say "is", because we sometimes refer to Levi (5) and Violet (4) as an entity - "Leviolet".  They are our youngest, and they like attention.  Namely, they like to interrupt adult conversation.  So our dinner went much like this:

Levi:  Mom, can you get me some soup?

Me:  Sure.  

Levi:  Why is this spoon so big?

Me:  It's a soup spoon, buddy.

Austin:  I doubt he'll be able to fit it in his mouth.

Me:  I'm sure he will.

Violet:  Daddy, I love you.

Mark:  I love you too!

Claire:  Can we go to the salad bar as many times as we want?

Me:  No.  Just once.  (to Mark):  What did you...

Levi:  (mouth full) Hey, mom, did you know when Squidward didn't like crabby patties that Spongebob said, (insert awesome Spongebob voice) "They're good for your soul." (Squidward voice) "My soul? I don't have a soul."  (lowest voice) "Muahahaha!"  It's so funny!

Me:  Oh, you do a good job with that, buddy.  (Pause)  (to Mark):  I was going to ask what you thought...

Violet to Mark:  (Yank, yank, yank at the arm...) And I'm going to miss you so much!

Levi to me:  And then Squidward started to like crabby patties, and then he was eating so many that Spongebob said (voice again), "No, Squidward, they'll go straight to your thighs!"  (Squidward voice) "My thighs?" And then his thighs exploded.  Hahahaha!  Isn't that so funny?

Me:  Yes, I saw that one I think.  (Pause) (to Mark - faster this time):  What did you think of...

Levi:  Hey, mom, I know which one of my stuffed animals you like the best!  

Me:  Yeah - the Walrus.

Levi:  Yeah, and I named him "Wally".  You know why?

Lest you think my children are somehow starved for attention, let me assure you... between homeschooling, no TV service, a daddy and brother who love to wrestle and roughhouse with kids, a mom who loves cooking buddies, and plenty of talking and snuggling from dawn till bedtime, they are loaded down with attention and interaction.

When I was a child, there were a few "cardinal sins" when it came to interacting with adults.  One was, "Don't interrupt adult conversation... ever... unless there is blood - lots of blood."  We haven't been as diligent teaching this rule to our last two children as my parents were with me (as evidenced by yesterday's lunch conversation).  I started thinking on the way home about why this rule was so important.  It didn't take me long to figure it out.  Here's the strange part about blogging.  When I write this next part, all of my friends are going to think I'm referring to them.  I have a lot of interaction with a lot families.  I'm not talking about you, and I am talking about you... in the sense that I'm talking about most of us.  Most of the time I can barely even start - much less finish - adult conversations without child interruptions - many times several of them - by my children or other people's children or both.  Sometimes, when in a large group of adults and children, I can be interrupted while talking with another adult by a child completely unrelated and sometimes even unknown to either one of us.  Being interrupted can be exasperating... particularly when it's an important or sensitive topic.  This often leads me not to even ask important questions or things that might end up in detailed adult conversation for fear that it will be eavesdropped or interrupted and, as a result, end abruptly or uncomfortably.  It almost leads me not to ask "caring questions".  The genuine "how are you" or "how have you been holding up" types of questions or to give the actual detailed answers to those questions when people ask them of me.  "Real" is pushed aside in favor of ease in dealing with children.  Helpful conversations that teach me something new or meaningful conversations that develop closer relationships that might've been had have many times been lost because my children think that their own immediate needs are more important than anyone else's, and I reinforce that by saying, "What do you need, honey?"  (And then am often met with a Spongebob dialogue reenactment.)  How nice to virtually say to a person, "I'd really like to hear about your heartache at the loss of your mother, but those crabby patties are really going right to Squidward's thighs."  

I think it's easy to become co-dependent with our children and to foster co-dependence in them.  We are so quick to throw out old parenting ideas that seem overly "tough" or not squishy and gooey and "loving" enough, but we neglect to investigate the reasons that traditional parenting worked for hundreds (if not thousands) of years when carried out by loving parents.  We forget that new ideas are not really new at all - (as is nothing else under the sun).  We forget that fostering artificial self-esteem in our children is not nearly as important as fostering genuine esteem for others.  Not everything my children do is new, interesting, and/or praiseworthy, but their self-esteem demands that I pay attention to it and praise it at the expense of everyone and everything around us?  What kind of beastly adult will that make them?  I think we all know those types of adults or teens who interrupt or dominate conversations every few moments with their own "self-actualization"... selfish motives.  We might even be or be raising those people.

Last week I had to make a difficult choice between being in the hospital with my youngest child overnight and coming home to be with my older children.  My oldest (Austin) is nearly 17, and he is well capable of taking care of his siblings - as he as proven many times before, but I hated that I had to choose.  I love being right across the hall from my younger ones.  Levi (almost 6) shares a room with his sister (who was the one in the hospital).  He tends to be scared in the rare case that she is not sleeping in his room.  As I was tending to my youngest in hospital, I looked at the clock and thought I should have told Austin to sleep nearer to Levi so that he wouldn't be afraid, but it was too late to call.  When I talked to Austin the next morning and asked him how things went, he said, "Well, Levi was scared.  So we talked, and I prayed with him and for him and told him that if he got scared to just call on Jesus, and he would be safe.  Then we practiced it a few times.  Then he was fine, and I went to bed."  I said, "Well, I was going to tell you that you should have slept near him or let him sleep in your top bunk."  Austin responded, "Mom, is it more helpful to give him me or to give him God?  God's always there.  People aren't."  Wow.  I know that.  I learned that - to the most painful degree I could imagine - when I was 26 and my husband of nearly 7 years left me with our two daughters and then started taking them away for weekends and birthday and holidays.  I learned that building my life around my girls or around my identity as a parent was not helping me or my girls be better people.  My girls and I found out in short order that the people we love and those we are certain will be there forever - for better or worse - will not always be there.  There is only One Who is always there and Who never fails.  Giving our children a false sense of security - yes, even in the infallible presence and perfection of their parents, is setting them up with an unhealthy dependence upon people to meet their needs.  They need to be secure in that both of their parents are present (Lord willing), that we will meet their needs to the best of our abilities (as God enables), and that we will provide a framework of support to help them prepare for life, independent from but forever and unconditionally loved by, us.  However, giving them an idea that we will always be there, will never let them down, and will always be their security blanket no matter what does not foster in them a sense of independence that is vital to the human spirit - not to mention survival.  

I am equally convinced that parents need to be a very present part of their early and formative years, because we are an example to them of God's loving, caring presence.  Unless we are present (in whatever capacity and however that looks in your home), we can't be an example of that.  However, problems arise when we go from setting ourselves up as an example of God's love to them to becoming a substitute god for them.  I once saw a parenting graph that showed that at birth a child is 0% responsible or capable of caring for self and that, therefore, the parent is 100% responsible for that care.  The graph showed that, at a steady rate, the percentages should become more even, level off, and eventually reverse.  In other words, at 5 a child might be 20% capable of caring for self and the parent is responsible for the other 80%, and so on until they are 20 years old or so and they are 100% capable and responsible for their own care and decisions and consequences.  The graph thus demonstrated that, over the first 20 or so years of life, the child is weaned off of being the parent's dependent and to being his own, independent person.  I would only add one thing to that graph, and that is that a child moves from being fully dependent on parent to fully dependent upon God.  I can't promise that I won't be hit by a bus tomorrow or develop a terminal illness or (as has happened to me in the past year) be in the hospital myself or with a sick sibling.  I can guarantee that God will always be present and is always present with them.  

I dread blogging on parenting topics, because they are always so controversial.  People get so easily offended as if by stating a parenting choice of your own you are saying that is what everyone who truly loves his or her children must do.  I was just reminded yesterday that it's okay to teach children not to interrupt adult conversations unless it is a true emergency, and, in those cases, to do it politely by placing a hand gently on an arm or standing nearby by not in between talking adults.

Hands Wide Open

The church in which I was raised was a hymn-only, piano and organ church from my earliest recollection.  No one raised a hand.  No one clapped a hand.  Honestly, that never bothered me.  I don't get caught up in fight over music worship styles, because worship is an attitude that comes from my heart... not from the music that is played.  If there's one thing I've learned it is that not everyone is as emotionally passionate as I am.  Nor should they be.  I picture a world overrun by people who get goosebumps during truck commercials, and it scares me to think that some evolutionary error would ever end up in there being 7 billion of "me".  It's funny how most of us would probably agree that we love the variety of people in the world, and yet we spend our lives wishing people would be more like us - trying to make them that way.

Over the years, our church has changed musically.  More choruses and worship songs have been introduced.  Now there is a worship "band" that plays a variety of instruments. This doesn't bother me in the least.  After all, it is still my heart that is either at worship or not.  No amount of distraction will steal it away if it is settled on God.  And any amount of distraction will steal it away if it is not.  I have to be honest - with a child whose sensory processing disorder can end us up in a screaming meltdown over a "borrowed" toy in the church pew in .5 second - I am often not as tuned into worship as I should/could be.  I am often distracted by our 4 year old wanting to stand up and see over the people in front of us or our 5 year old making car noises or yelling at his sister.  I am not a hand-raiser.  I never have been.  I'm not against it.  I just always feel self-conscious about it.  I don't want people to think I'm trying to portray some ultra-spirituality.  I'm not not used to it.  There have been times when I have lifted a hand - when focused, when moved, when really tuned-in to the sacrifice Christ made for me.  However, it's usually when I'm alone.  Sometimes I am even distracted by hand-raisers at church.  I am certain this is the opposite of their intention, but my eyes naturally follow commotion (as do most people's, I think).  I find comfort in their openness and envy their natural abandon and vulnerability.

Last week we sat behind my uncle and cousins at church.  As I looked down, I noticed that my 9 year old cousin had a pair of work gloves on his hands.  You know the kind.  They are bright yellow with red cuffs.  

He took them off and set them on the pew behind him during the singing, and I looked down at them.  I don't know if I'm the only weird person who does things like this, but I found myself trying to make my hands fit them from where I was standing - not touching them - just forming my hands into their shape.  I looked down at my hands and noticed that they were palms up and fully open - fingers spread gently apart and curved slightly toward me.    

I immediately felt self-conscious... as though my intentions might be mistaken.  People might think I was opening my hands in worship.  Self-consciously I closed them and put them back down to my sides.  Immediately I felt overwhelmed with, "Why?"  Why what?  "Why not open your hands?  Are you afraid people might think you need something?"  What does that have to do with anything?  Need something?  "You are in need.  When you open your hands, you acknowledge it."

After all, open hands are an international sign of neediness.  Looking for hand-out?  Looking for a hand-up?  In the self-sufficient way I like to be, those things make me feel messed up inside.  I don't want to need.  I'm in one of the neediest places in my life I can ever remember.  In the past 8 months I've had severe back disc problems and a broken leg.  I've needed help from paramedics, doctors, specialists, physical therapists, my family, and even strangers sometimes.  When a person is in crisis, he or she doesn't often have time to contemplate or grieve loss until it's getting over.  My health is not great, but it's much better than it has been.  I am able to walk without assistance on normal surfaces.  I can go up and down stairs.  I can't lift things of any significant weight, but I can do basic household chores.  I have gone from self-sufficiency, to crisis, to grief in a relatively short period of time.  I don't know if it's my age, my health condition, or something else, but I've begun to contemplate life differently.  I watch a person do something - bungee jumping, back flipping, auditioning for Survivor, and I say to myself (and sometimes to people around me), "I'll never do that."  My husband likes to ask, "Did you ever even want to do that?"  The answer is usually with a sigh and a groan, "No, but now I know I never will."  As a perpetually busy person, my physical therapist has had a difficult time keeping me down... which is how I ended up with a broken leg in the first place.  He tells me, "Take it easy.  Stop doing things."  When I would have to call off a session for a sore back he would add, "Don't lift any furniture!"  Why would he assume... well, he knows.  

I got another cortisone epidural yesterday.  These have become my only way of postponing the next disc herniation that will end up in another hospitalization and more weeks in bed.  They are also becoming a monthly need.  After my epidural I drove home to change for my husband's work Christmas party.  He said, "Are you sure you want to go?"  Between my insistence on high heels, the hole in my back, and the fact I had driven all over creation all day, he (always sensible - it's a good thing one of us is) thought it might be a questionable activity.  

I regretted it from before we even got out of the car.  My leg had started to swell to the point of numbness, and between that and the pain shooting down my back and into that same leg, I was ready to go home before we walked in the door.  I have started to acknowledge that our lives will probably always be hampered by my back and leg.  Did it stop me from going sledding with Mark and the little ones and sliding down the ice-covered driveway in boots 2 sizes too big with laces undone to get the mail this morning?  No.  I'm still a barefoot 8-year-old girl jumping out of a tree on the inside.  

I hate to ask for help.  I can't lift my Crockpot out of the bottom cupboard anymore.  Did I mention how much I hate asking for help?  Yet I stood there in church and closed my hands.  

My mom once told me that God can't fill hands that are already full.  At the time, my heart and hands were filled with what I wanted... what I thought I needed.  Basically - they were full of discontentment.  I am struggling once again with contentment.  This time it is discontentment with my physical limitations.  Yet I stood there in church and closed my hands.

Even though I am a firm believer that there are no coincidences, I thought maybe the gloves on the pew that day were coincidental.  They may not have been meant to teach me any deeper lesson.  As we came home after church, I passed through our laundry room and looked down at the top of the dryer, and this is what I saw:

Why there were even work gloves there I have no idea.  I suspect they were there to assure me that I wasn't meant to slough off the lesson I was on the cusp of internalizing.   I am fully needy before God.  I must acknowledge it and embrace it.  I am not supposed to try to get others to fill that need.  God alone is able to fill the need that the immensity of Who He is created in the first place.  He is love to the unloved.  He is companionship to the lonely.  He is peace in chaos.  He is rest for the weary.  He is health to the bones.  He is joy in sadness.  He is fullness in our emptiness.

Did you ever want more than is earthly possible?  Did you ever want to hug your child tighter than safely possible - just because you love him/her so much?  Did you ever want to be closer to your spouse than even making love can achieve?  There are a few things that my husband does that make me feel inexplicably full inside.  He holds me tightly and kisses my forehead so tenderly.  I don't know why, but in those all-too-brief moments I feel like I could live a thousands lifetimes in complete contentment.  I know you feel it too... the lack that this world has for us.  The fact we were created for so much deeper fulfillment than even the greatest earthly love can afford us.  Ecclesiastes 3:11 says,

"He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, yet so that man will not find out the work which God has done from the beginning  even to the end."

My closed hands tell a deeper story about me... about my heart.  Warm hands - warm heart.  Closed hands - closed heart.  Open hands - open heart.  God longs to fill the hearts and hands of those who are willing to open them - to acknowledge their deep need.  Whatever those needs may be - He has all assets as His disposal.  

I close with a portion of the book Epic by John Eldredge, 

"And they lived happily ever after. Stop for just a moment, and let it be true. They lived happily ever after.

These may be the most beautiful and haunting words in the entire library of mankind. Why does the end of a great story leave us with a lump in our throats and an ache in our hearts? If we haven't become entirely cynical, some of the best endings can even bring us to tears.

Because God has set eternity in our hearts. Every story we tell is our attempt to put into words and images what God has written there, on our hearts. Think of the stories that you love. Remember how they end.

This is written on the human heart, this longing for happily ever after.

You see, every story has an ending. Every story. Including yours. Have you ever faced this? Even if you do manage to find a little taste of Eden in this life, even if you are one of the fortunate souls who find some love and happiness in the world, you cannot hang on to it. You know this. Your health cannot hold out forever. Age will conquer you. One by one your friends and loved ones will slip from your hand. Your work will remain unfinished. Your time on this stage will come to an end. Like every other person gone before you, you will breathe your last breath.

And then what? Is that the end of the Story?

If that is the end, this Story is a tragedy. Macbeth was right. Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Sooner or later, life will break your heart. Or rather, death will break your heart. Perhaps you have to lose someone you love to be shaken from denial. The final enemy is death. It will come. Is there no way out? Do we have a future?"

Unless our present life is built on something eternal, it is indeed a tragedy.  That which our hearts long for is not a longing that is fulfilled upon death but one that can start to be fulfilled at any time in our present.  If we acknowledge that our open, empty hands need filled by God alone, then our days can take on new meaning, fresh perspective, and fulfillment that is all-encompassing.  Do we look forward to eternity?  With all our hearts - as a bride looks forward to wedding a beloved groom, but courtship is here and now.

Greasy Grace

I was on my way to my last physical therapy appointment earlier this week.  I was pretty excited to be winding down with physical therapy that was supposed to have gone on for another couple of months at least.  No longer limping and with pain becoming less acute every week, I was more than ready to be done with PT for the first time since July.

I was listening to the radio when a story came on about a man deployed in the armed forces who had e-mailed his wife's favorite local pizza place to order a pizza for her upcoming birthday.  He had said that he would pay for the pizza with a credit card by phone on the day it was delivered.  The pizza place, instead, took the initiative to send the pizza, along with a card and balloons, to the family's home the evening of her birthday- free of charge.  They took a photo of the man's wife and son with the items and sent him the photo by e-mail - which brought tears to the man's eyes.... which brought a few tears to my eyes.

I remembered immediately teasing my own mother when we were children about the fact that she'd cry at Hallmark commercials.  Like me, my mom is not a big crier.  I have friends who cry on a daily or weekly basis.  I am unlikely to really cry more than once or twice a year.  The older I get, however, I'm more likely to cry at happy/touching things than I ever was as a child or younger woman... when I would not have been touched by those things.  It made me wonder, "Why?"  I'm the same person.  Why would I be more emotional now than then?  Why more tender-hearted?  I'm not naive enough to think that hormonal changes don't play some role in my emotions these days, but there is something more.

Last night, my husband and I attended a visitation for a man in his early 20's who died of a heroin overdose.  Seeing the photos of him as a baby, a sweet toddler, a young boy with no front teeth, a cub scout, a young man in braces, a smiling senior picture of him next to a tree, an eagle scout... just like so many other photos of my children - my friends' children - my peers' children.  The story - the reality - was heart-wrenching, gut-wrenching - raw... a child of divorce - like our own children... whose parents now had to work together to plan his funeral - to grieve separately but with identical grief.

My last blog was entitled "Why do Good Things Happen?"  This blog brings me back to that concept.  What flooded my mind that day I shed a tear over a radio story was all of the other stories... the ones on e-mail and facebook that give you goosebumps.  These are the stories that show humanity in such a beautiful light that you doubt in your heart they could be truth but can't imagine someone evil enough to make them up just to manipulate the emotions of the masses for no apparent reason.  

When I was a child I thought the world basically good.  The worst things that happened were people smashing our pumpkins at Halloween or trying to steal a bicycle out of our garage.  As an adult, I am daily overwhelmed with the wickedness that overruns the earth.  The murders, the infidelity, the fraud, the greed...  None of these things would change with the passing of any laws.  The laws God passed to govern the human heart back in Exodus were called The Ten Commandments.  They were once posted in courthouses around this nation.  They were considered a good standard to live by.  Now they are considered inconvenient... irrelevant even.  Even Christians say things like, "Jesus came so that I didn't have to be under the law anymore."  I am the first person to be overwhelmed at the goodness of living under the abundance grace rather than under the requirements of law.  However, Jesus's purpose was to fulfill the law so that I didn't have to fulfill it myself - because I am incapable.  He paid for my many sins with his horrible death so that I can live as though the law never existed - having a great time - doing whatever my body feels is right?  Greasy Grace.  Greasy grace is not the lifestyle of a changed heart.  It's the lifestyle of a heart that wants to change the goodness of God's original intent to fit the evil of my own desires.  Was he really torn asunder in every possible way so that I could be selfish, greedy, and unfaithful?  Was his skin torn from his body with a whip so that I could lash out in anger at others?  Was he made a slave unto death and a cross so that I could enslave others to my own will or make them pay the penalty when they don't meet my expectations?   

My heart is wrung.

I used to cry about the evil I saw in the world.  My heart was immune to good, because I saw so much of it.  I took the good for granted.  Today, I am brought to tears by the goodness in the world, because I see so little of it.  My heart is becoming immune to the evil.  I take it for granted, because I see so much of it.   

A broken heart tries to humbly live a life that is somehow worthy of the indescribable sacrifice that set it free in the first place.