It's Viral

Kurt and I found out on Sunday that we both have a viral thing: therefore no antibiotics. I'm happy the doctor felt that way - I think I would have jumped in between Kurt and the prescription pad if the doctor had tried to go that route. It does happen, you know.

It's not that I have a problem with drugs (or I would be in the WRONG line of work) - but there is such a growing problem with drug-resistant infections that I hate to add to it.

Anyway, on the bright side, it seems to be lifting. I'm still coughing - but not productively (TMI! Sorry!) and I am hoping that keeps since I am working 6 days in a row.

Sigh.

It's All About Proper Refrencing

"What you talkin 'bout, Mommy?"
(the infamous "mad-face")

I just taught my 20-month old daughter to drink out of her new straw-containing sippy-cup by explaining, "No, Peyton, honey. Don't tip it up. Put it on your boobies while you drink."
And wouldn't you know - she cued right in and followed the instructions to a tee - with a big grin, no less.
That kid cracks me up.

*Cough-Cough*

I'm sick enough to stay home from church today. It's rough to not be able to stop coughing. Rougher, still, to not be able to take anything for it. I'm pacing my Tylenol - no closer than 4 hours apart - and it does a nice job of managing the headache and throat pain. But this is - by far! - the worst cold I've had in a long time. I've tried a few unique things in the last couple of days including: Vicks dabbed in my ears (it made the scratchiness stop for a while), and this morning I stuffed a cotton-ball soaked with olive oil into my left ear. I think it helped! Yay for ancient remedies! (lol!)
--
Peyton didn't want to nap yesterday so I offered her the big, brown, fuzzy blanket from our bed. She acquiesced right away. As I lay her down she was sure to remind me, "Blin-ket." and pointed over at it (where it was dragged from my room) in it's big, brown, fuzzy pile on her bedroom floor. It kept her remarkably content. Bribery can be so simple sometimes...
--
This morning I taught her to say, "Go, Ghana - GO!" and told her were were cheering for them because that was Auntie's country. She got pretty good at it by the end of the game. She had 90 minutes to practice, after all...
--
I'm so thankful for the sun and cheerful breeze that is keeping my house fresh and warm this morning. It justified wearing my pink Hawaii dress today! It's a tad tighter in some areas than it was in February. I wonder why... :-P
--
Happy birthday to my wonderful mommy! Love you so much, mom!
--
Well, I'm off to tidy the dishes before hopefully more Vicks and a nap (?) and then Germany v. Australia. I'm going to cheer for the Aussies just because Kurt will not. Plus - we have to stick with the Commonwealth, right? ;)

Whew...

On that heels of that somewhat sober post, I just want to exclaim that Word Cup starts tomorrow!

(If you had told me 7 years ago that I would be excited about a soccer tournament, I would have seriously laughed out loud. But I've evolved! ;))

Kurt is going to be predictable and cheer for Germany. He really doesn't have a choice, though. That's all he is.

I, however, have cast about my considerable and eclectic Canadian heritage and have decided I'm going to cheer for England. I found out that my great-grandfather was born and raised in Manchester, UK.

(On an interesting side note, I've also found out that Manchester United are the Montreal Canadians of soccer. You either love them, or... really don't love them. I asked a guy Kurt used to work with who was from England who his favorite team was and he answered - word for word - "Anybody but Man-U." lol!)

So let the fever begin.
God save the Queen! :-D

The Bus Stop

I have always enjoyed watching people: facial expressions, the way they walk, dress... trying to guess what it is that has made them 'just so'.

But after a few months of university, it can get overwhelming to observe the masses. I began to tune it out. Stand and blank out... just think about my own needs, wants - stuff.

Several years ago I stood waiting for the city bus on College Drive and Cumberland after my classes were done for the day. I think it was before I started nursing - and I'm not even sure if I knew Kurt yet. It was what felt like centuries before my own grief and heartbreak shaped me as a woman and a christian.

As I stood there in my self-induced trance, a car pulled up in front of me and stopped at the stoplight.

It was a sports car: a black Eagle Talon, I think.
A beautiful young Asian woman was in the drivers seat, and she was crying.

Weeping, actually. She sat there and looked at the stoplight while wiping her eyes over and over as tears ran down her face. She didn't look left or right: and not because of self-consciousness, I could tell. She was completely caught up in her grief.

All sorts of questions flashed though my mind.
"Did she break up with her boyfriend?"
"She came from the direction of the hospital: has someone she loves been hurt or died?"
My heart began to hurt as I watched the tears continue to roll down her cheeks, and her inaudible gasps for breath.

I stood there and stared at her, actually hoping she would look to her right and see me. I wanted to somehow let her know that she wasn't alone - that someone - a total stranger! - had noticed her tears and was concerned for her. I wanted to knock on her window and ask if there was anything I could do for her. The logistics, however, of a busy street and a light that would soon change colour made that impossible.

So instead, I began to pray for her. To ask God - who knew who she was and what she was feeling - to comfort her. As the light turned green, and she pulled away, I continued to talk to God about her. The whole way home on the bus, the memory of her tears stayed with me.

Strangely enough, years later, I was the one in the car weeping. Going to the hospital to deliver my stillborn daughter I cried silently. I was not conscious of anyone or anything else - only my broken heart. But as Kurt drove past the bus stop at College and Cumberland, I remembered her and her tears. It gave me comfort to know the same God I talked to her about was watching me - maybe even causing a stranger on the street to pray for me as they noticed my grief.

I still think of her to this day. Even last night, I found my mind wandered to that afternoon: wondering who she was and what she was dealing with. I prayed for her again, as I have continued to over the years.

As a christian, it is pretty easy to simply reflect on myself. My goals, my struggles and weakness and downfalls. But I am reminded that the ultimate purpose of being a child of God while I am here is to reach out to others - and tell them about the One who held me when no one else could if they want to listen. To be with them in their weakness - and to cry with them. Especially now, after my heart has been opened to grief, I can ache in a way that I was never capable of before. But first, I have to look. In my deepest heart-of-hearts I want to be like Jesus - who looked at the crowds of broken people and loved them, gave himself to serve them and cried for them.

So that's my thought for the day. Strange and somewhat random, right? (chuckle)
But maybe you're in a place where you are just kind of existing in your own world.
Maybe you need a nudge - like I did years ago and still often do - to step out, look around and remember why you're here.

But just maybe. :)

She Wants It Back (#1)

My very serious tiny dancer... remember to pause the music.

She Wants It Back (#2)

I hope Carrie Underwood would be proud. :)