Summer means swimming & playing all day in the sun, watching sunsets together, reading by the poolside, reconnecting with and rediscovering my children, lots of painting & times tables.
September means new school clothes and lots of kisses on greeting long lost friends, anxiety about new teachers & schedules, and cooler weather.
October means lots of birthday parties, long play dates in the park, getting our feet (and shoes! after going barefoot) under us, and settling back into life in Paris.
November is about wassail, pumpkin cookies, Thanksgiving presentations, and this year: Hannah's baptism preparations. It has also come to mean EEGs for the past 3 years. I distinctly remember my anxiety 2 years ago at the Thanksgiving table and Parker's multiple seizures and adding more meds to get things under control. And then the great news that followed when we returned home to find that DR Q was so pleased with the "normal"results she couldn't wait until morning to email me. Last year, I was weepy and grateful throughout November for our bounteous blessings. This year, all seems to be as it should be. I feel a certain calmness that only comes with great trial.
I feel that I am just a small part of a big universe and I try & ebb & flow with it. I try & love and serve & nurture people around me, and be more intuned to spiritual things, in a spinning world of chaos. I try not to lose my cool. I try to be more organized, and waste and use less. I try to love more, and completely....and read more, and things of value, my time seems so very precious now.
Parker is doing fantastic. It's my new word of choice. Albeit a disheartening meeting with Mr Franzoni and Parker's main speech therapist at CEOP where they think he is having a hard time acquiring & keeping knowledge, his speech seems to be progressing. I had a hard few days following that meeting where they suggested we get his eyes checked, and meet with a pediatric psychologist to get his poor sleeping patterns under control to see if that would help his memory capacity.
But I am constantly reminded of a talk I had with a wise man the weekend of November 6th. He is the president of the branch of our church in Tours, and he used to live with his family in the suburbs of Paris. John & I met with him years ago and I was touched then by his wisdom and intuitive thoughts and his calming presence. He asked about Parker, this time when we saw him. Or perhaps more appropriately, commented, on his health & strength as he witnessed his activities during church on Sunday. And he told me, "You know, the prayers that were offered in Parker's behalf are still coming to pass. They are still valid and in place for him today...." When he said those words, it was like a calm whisper to my soul. I guess I knew that in the bottom of my heart, but at the same time, I feel like life has moved on. The major prayers have already been answered: He lives! He walks! He talks! He hears (with his CI)! He is so very happy to be part of this life. And so I forget that those many prayers offered long ago are still helping him today, and will continue to do so for as long as he needs them.
And he still needs them.
And I still need them.
We need them less, and perhaps less often, but there are times when we still desperately need them.
I was worried about his EEG. All that it means, it's exhausting keeping him awake until we get there, forcing him to put the spiderman cap on, and all of the sand and water, and holding him in my lap, trying to get him to understand why and what we are doing, the myriad of questions from the EEG techs and just interfacing with the dirty, old hospital, and all of the people there with illness and heartache & suffering....but this time, it was so easy.
He marched in like a big boy. He climbed into the chair all by himself. He put on the spiderman cap, and let them start to work, hooking him to electricity and computers.
He smiled the entire way through. And evidently, the techs said that all looked as it should.
We are awaiting official news from Dr Q, but it was truly just another day in the hospital, like another day in the park, for me and Parker.
And now we ask the question since his EEGs have been normal for some time, whether the neurologist at Necker is right in thinking perhaps now is the time to take him off his epileptic meds to see how he does without them.
It's scary & encouraging at the same time.
We have much, much much to be grateful for. I am grateful every day of the year, but thankful for a holiday to express these thanks even more so.
I thank God for trial, and suffering. I thank Him for forcing me to grow in ways I never dreamed possible. Repeatedly. I thank Him for answering my prayers every day, not only for Parker, but for 4 gorgeous daughters, a loving husband, unwavering friends, and family. I thank Him for health & strength, and science and technology. I thank Him for opposites-good and bad, health and sickness, virtue and vice. So that we can differentiate between them, and choose right and goodness. And appreciate the health and happiness when we have them.
My heart is full. My life is rich. In essence- WE ARE FANTASTIC.
It's so much nicer responding to the question, "How are you?" With this reply. For years, I just avoided the question by asking the asker the same question.
