Small Things…

Small moments that make up the entirety of a day have become to accumulate.

And somehow, it is Wednesday afternoon already. I wrote for a post on Actually He wrote it – I’m so stinkin’ brain dead and tired I know I had little, if anything, to do with it… I love how it turned out, as it communicates volumes about what I deeply wish for (and I think He does to) each woman who does The Respect Dare.

Honestly, I’m still having a hard time focusing for long periods of time on anything but my son and his hospital stay. I’m overwhelmed (in a good way) (as in, literally to tears when I think about it) (like now, when I’m interrupting myself and can hardly see the keyboard to type this) with the well-wishes and prayers from our friends and family.

The surgery went well, and as soon as it was over and we moved from recovery to his hospital room, I remembered we were just getting started. We are in the hospital for about a week. I have four alarms set in my phone (thank You for technology that works) for the pain meds. You might think I’m a little controlling, but we’ve done this before, and once you watch your child’s epidural run dry or have to wait two hours for a pain med to show up when he’s hurting, you do literally everything you can to make sure things go well if you get a second chance.

Like because I asked, they noticed something hadn’t been re-ordered, so they ordered it.

I am in awe of this young man, my son, my baby. He’s taller than me. Man-size.

And I admire him.

“Okay, let’s do this,” he says this morning as the nurse and I get him out of bed and into a chair right next to it.

Seems like a small thing, right?

The whole process takes about 15 minutes.

And he walked down the hall for a little while today, too.

I’m shocked that this surgery is even possible. It takes two steel bars to hold his sternum out of his lungs and heart.

So he is sleeping now.

And I’ve been reminded of the simple things in life. Like the other night when I realized I was hungry. I haven’t had an ache in my stomach like that in forever, and I realized that if I wanted to, I could literally just walk a few feet and grab something to eat, even here in this hospital. Tiredness won over hunger, however, and I just slept. How privileged I am wasn’t lost on me, though.

One of our nurses had his car parked near the hospital on a side street. His car windows were smashed in last night, a small riot response to the Trayvon Martin case verdict by locals, according to the officer he dealt with. And again I was thankful for something as small as having my car in a parking garage.

And there are parents on this floor with kids suffering – and they are scared. You can see they’ve been here a while and that they won’t be leaving soon. I said good morning to one in the parent break room and she nearly burst into tears.

So many people to pray for.

And a demographic that I wasn’t aware of. Poor kids whose parents can’t afford to take time off of work, no family, and/or don’t have transportation. They are here alone.

So many people to pray for.

There are many unknowns in the middle of where we are now, but I am able to choose hope more easily, and relax enough to sleep at night.

I have learned something about my young man, too. Like my golden retrievers, he chooses to endure pain by hunkering down and focusing. He doesn’t glean strength from interaction with me – and he finds company exhausting. He loves his friends, but doesn’t want to see them right now. He wants to wait until he has more energy, I think. And at one point last night, when we were waiting on one drug to take effect before making the decision to add another, he asked for the TV to be turned on. I rubbed his arm after doing so, and then asked him, “Is this helpful, or does it take away from your ability to manage your pain until they show up?” He said, “It would be easier if I could just focus on the TV.” I sat down on the couch in the room and just prayed for him. But I also I thanked him for telling me, and told him to continue letting me know what he needs – and that it was okay to do so if I didn’t ask. He and I are not alike, but that’s okay. I just want to love him well where he is at. Later that night, when I wrote for Peaceful Wife’s blog, the moment came to mind for a number of reasons. I guess you’ll see what I mean tomorrow.

I need a nap, otherwise I’d explain more. But you’ll figure it out.

Thank you so much for the prayers, messages, emails, and prayers… did I mention prayers? Thank you. I don’t feel alone.

Love to you,


Here’s a few more posts you might find useful:

Want to Change Your Husband?

Why Your Husband Doesn’t Respect YOU

A WILD Story about the “N-Word” and Grace

Is Complaining Ruining Your Marriage?

How Being Defensive is Destroying Your Marriage

Six Ways to Overcome Your Husband’s Anger

One more thing?

It’s not a small thing.

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6 thoughts on “Small Things…

  1. Praying for you and your son, sweet Nina! May you see God in everything and be reminded of His wonderful lavish love.

  2. Prayers for peace, healing and rest for you and your famiy. It is so hard to watch a child hurt, whether it is your child or someone elses.

  3. Thanks for being such a strong model of a Godly mother, wife and friend. Praying for you and your family, and those who you mentioned in your post as well who are in the hospital.

  4. Glad to hear things are going well. Looking forward to reading more about this tomorrow. I’m praying for you all.

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