Painstaking blinking and little washcloths

I haven't blogged in a LONG time. Close to two months if my memory serves me correctly. Let me explain why-

The past two months have had their moments of delight. But I will not lie when I say that the majority of this particular month, can only be described of that feeling just before the eye doctor brings his hands and that little bottle super close to your eye and puts the drops in. PAINSTAKING. You anticipate being poked in the eye and that annoying inability to stop blinking. That has been my month. Day in and day out. Painstaking blinking.

I am horrified at times of my abilities as a mother. Every mother, prior to being a mother, looks at her past, how she was parented and makes a list of "things that she will never ever do". I've tried desperately not to ever come close to that thought. I mean I suppose that I do come close to the thought, but I try quite hard to avoid having that conversation with myself. Why give yourself the chance of harboring resentment for the way that you were brought up, when really, how your child is brought up, has little, in actuality, to do with the way that you were brought up- That is if you really are ready to have a child... After all, every adult at some point in life acknowledges that at the end of the day who you become and what you do with your past, present and future is your own responsibility. Not your parents.

My mother is human, and honestly, I know that she did the very best that she could. She poured her very being into my siblings and I and as a result she and my father raised three children, two of which have turned out to love their Lord, their parents, and their close friends and relatives. The jury is still out on number three. I consider myself to be a good person through and through when push comes to shove. But good God, it is hard sometimes. I can't elaborate, really, on this subject. But believe me when I say that it is a burden, and that our family needs prayer.

That brings me to siblings. I am just one of those people that likes to mother. I mother my friends, my brother and sister, and of course my husband and son. When I was a little girl and my brother would get sick, I would get up, regardless of the hour, get a washcloth (no matter what his illness was too, I saw it on Little House) wet it, and lay it on his forehead. I don't even know if he appreciated it or if it annoyed him. But I just wanted to help. Even now, when my husband is ill, he just wants to be left alone and the poor man has me tip toeing into our bedroom asking him if he wants some tea with honey and whiskey (amazing remedy for a cold, don't knock it til you've tried it), massage his temples or just lay there waiting for him to ask for something so I can jump up and do it. I, until recently, never realized that in the wrong circumstances, with the wrong type of personality, that that could actually be detrimental to not only your relationship with them, but also to them as a person as a whole. I don't take complete blame for the situation, but I hold myself accountable for my own actions contributing to what has come of said relationship and person. My intentions were wholesome, but I was wrong.

I imagine that when you give your children over to God, trusting Him with not only their well-being, but also your own ability to grow them in wisdom, not only a worldly "street smarts" sense, but also in faith and love, and in the wisdom that comes only from God, that you automatically just do it. I should have said imagined. Considering specific surroundings... They are just horrifying at times. How will I ever know, that I am completely trusting- A child is not like, say an apartment that you maybe should or shouldn't move into, or like a class that you want to pass--- It is his life... I am trusted with his life to trust completely in return. How will I ever know that I trust enough? Furthermore, how can I trust him completely with Someone that I know I falter in trusting day in and day out?

I want to be a little kid again, curing the world one sick kid at a time with my little washcloth. I don't remember doing much damage that way.

I undoubtedly made little sense in this post. Sorry, but not really.

Rach