Peace, and sickness

I have shrunk, cringed, hemmed and hawed at writing.  I don't know why.  Fear. Possibly.  But I must and should press on.
I don't want to forget all the little moments, good and bad.  Maybe, I will not do it perfectly but I will learn to embrace both.
Josh is still sick.  We had a few days, maybe even a week where I felt more hopeful... it was as if we are nearing the end of this last bout of chronic fatigue... I could see the finish line nearing.  And then.  We had too many late nights in a row with Birthdays, 4th of July and other celebrations and NOW... he looks gray again.  I can feel the tiredness emanating from his body, pulsing fatigue.  And I feel a little crushed.  I will repair myself.  But.  I would so love to have a healthy husband.  I would love to play basketball with him, hike and run and jump and play.

If he were better, we could take the kids to the park, we could finish school faster, have another baby (I would like four, I think.)...We could eat Green Eggs and Ham with Sam I am! we could take a walk with the Sheep as they walk in their sleep from here to there where mysterious things are everywhere... the possibilities seem limitless.  But we are not there yet.  Despite this thorn, this pricking painful thorn... life is good.  We are poor, sick and happy.  We have enough to cover our needs and some wants :)  We laugh together and enjoy one another's company, even though we cannot be as adventuresome as we would like.  I feel that I have the choice, to find happiness/peace in these difficult circumstances or I can allow myself to become bitter and resentful.  Being bitter hurts.  Peace is soothing.

Asher, my sweet boy, who finds tiny wizards hanging out on his head.  What an imagination.

Sometimes I feel like I am rediscovering him... like he isn't just a person but a world, a galaxy full of wonders to acquaint myself with. His potential and his abilities are limitless.  His intelligence, his sweetness astound me.  Not that his intelligence surprises me... he is smart... but you forget exactly who and what your child is... You start thinking of them as children who spill milk, make dust clouds in the dirt, mud pies on the side walk, don't listen to you at the park, eat pancakes for breakfast, play with their brother (sometimes sharing sometimes not)...

and then one day, one afternoon, one minute you stop and listen to what they are saying... you bend or kneel down to their level and listen and find that no, this is not a child at all... but a spirit, full of light and intelligence... someone so full of endless possibilities and greatness.  It causes your heart to expand with love for this sweet person and you feel So grateful for this small opportunity to be with them.  Moments like this happen for both my sweet little boys, where I am in awe of who my little children, really are.  God's children.