Today is another tough one. Vallyn goes to Children's Hospital for a few procedures and diagnostic tests while under anesthesia. Nothing too major, but knowing she's going to get poked and prodded always provokes anxiety for me. It takes me back to our days in the NICU watching them try to start IVs in her tiny veins and hearing her cry.
It seems like every year, regardless of where I am or who I am with, there is always this sense of "What now?" in the days following Christmas. Maybe it's just all the crazy commercialism build-up, or the rushing around trying to get so many things done before Christmas, or the actual day of Christmas with the opening of gifts and the going to dinners and rush rush rush. Then it's all just over. And you say "What's next?" or "On to the next holiday/thing/diversion!". And you jump back into real life, like we did yesterday. Or how we're really jumping into reality today.
But I received my daily miracle during a phone call yesterday in the midst of all the chaos. I was speaking to a woman we've come to know and treasure at the medical supply company where we get Vallyn's oxygen supplies. We were wrapping up our call when she said "You know, I want to thank you for sending that Christmas card with Vallyn's pictures on it. It is hanging in my cubicle, and every day people come and look at it, and I look at it, and we just smile. So I want you to know that every day, your little girl makes someone smile."
Of course this made me cry. Happy tears. Because I know what her smile does to my heart. It opens it wide up and calms it and I feel like I am seeing the embodiment of love or looking straight into the gates of Heaven. Even if it's just a brief glimpse. And I am so incredibly thankful for that gift every single time. What a wonderful gift if she can give that feeling to others!
And her smile is what I will cling to today as they take her off for her procedures. It is what I dreamt of when I learned I was pregnant. It is what I spend hours waiting for as I stalk her with my camera. It is what she gives me every morning when I go to get her out of her crib. It is what I do really silly and embarrassing things to try to elicit from her. It is what I already cannot wait to see after she wakes up. It lights up the room.
And it is my shining beacon on those not-so-shiny days.
If I call you a fcused over-achiever you will know, won't you, that it takes one to know one and that is not stone-throwing, just me laughing because I do the same thing: what next??? Tell me now, God. Love you, friend! {jeanie rhoades}
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