Gratitude

It has been an incredible week. After Kinnie climbed out of her crib 6 nights ago, she is sleeping soundly in her "big-girl" bed- an actual full size! She has been a complete joy. We play and play. We laugh. She loves to cuddle and give kisses. She sings as loud as she can. She runs and runs- an active girl, to be sure. When we go to the park, she is just as happy to play among the trees as she is to play on the playground. This week, we fed ducks and squirrels. She gives our Koda puppy big hugs, and plays ball with Charlie Boy. She offers comfort, kisses our "owies."

I have been able to remain present this week. To put aside what doesn't matter for the things that really do.

I feel such immense gratitude- for my baby, my family, my friends.

I went to my orthopedist on Tuesday, to learn the results of a recent MRI of my hip. Since I was younger than Kinnie, I have had problems with it, and expected that the news would not be good.

When I pulled into the parking garage at the hospital, I felt my family holding me. I thought of all that my parents had been through with me- the surgeries, the recovery, the pain, the fear. And I knew that though I am now 31 years old, they would do it all again for me, right now. I knew that they would take the pain, if they could. That is a powerful feeling. I just knew my Dad was thinking about me, hoping that the news wouldn't be too bad. And my Mom met me there, to hold my hand. And I thought about how it must have felt, to watch their baby go through what I did. I think it was probably harder for them than for me.

Even though we faced all of it, turns out, I need a new hip. The cartilage in my current hip is beat to hell. I knew this was coming, and in some ways, it is a relief that the wait is over. And, in some ways, I am terrified.

I walked through the grocery store today, an activity that often inflames my pain, when tears came to my eyes as I realized that soon, I will be able to do this without hurting. Pain is a fascinating thing, when it is ever-present. All one can do is try to live with it, to not let it interfere. Some days, it is easier than others. The hope of doing these day-to-day activities without it is pretty incredible, and overwhelming.

I am grateful for all the lessons I learn, everyday, about how to better live this life. I am grateful for the things that take my breath away, and make me slow down and notice this moment. I am grateful for the pains, so that I remember what is truly important, and that I should focus on that. I am grateful that I have family and friends, who love and support me. I am grateful for that adorable baby, curled up in her big-girl bed, and all the meaning she has brought to my life.

Lessons

My house is a disaster. It hasn't been this bad in I don't know how long. Everywhere I look, there are toys, and papers, and dog hair, and who knows what else. But it's okay.

Brian had surgery to remove his infected appendix late last Thursday night. He is home, and doing well. And, his activity is limited. I am trying to care for him, the baby, the puppies... The house has fallen to the bottom of the list.

This experience has made me realize something. In all of this uninterrupted time with my family, I have been able to clearly see what is important. Yes, I like my house to be clean. But bouncing with Kinnie on the couch, squealing and giggling- that's important, and it's what I love. Even if the floor below is covered by all the toys she has dumped out of the bin. It seems as though I have a never-ending to-do list of unimportant stuff- vacuuming, dusting, repairing nail holes in the walls. But if I am constantly trying to keep up with that list, what am I missing out on? I have been outside more in the past couple of days that I had in the previous weeks, because of my need to walk to dogs. I have played more presently with Kinnie. I have been able to look after Brian and help him heal.

Another thing came to me yesterday, related in a round about way. We visited with Dusty's sister, who was in town for the weekend. After walking around downtown for a couple hours with her, Brian and I were driving home. We talked about Dusty's ability to bring people together while he was alive. It didn't particularly matter if one was "like" you. Dusty was open and interested in all kinds of people.

I think, in his death, Dusty continues to bring us together. There is a group of people, who, because Dusty loved them, and they loved him, are even more dear to my heart than they were prior to his death. People with whom I feel connected, and want to look out for, because Dusty felt that way for them. So, though we lost him, we share the burden of heavy hearts and hope for healing. We gained something new. That doesn't make up for missing him, but it helps.

Clarity of the most important things in life came to me this weekend. They are the people we love, and the people who are loved by people we loved. If I can maintain presence with them, and connection with them, then a dirty house just doesn't matter.