Gideon is sleeping in his bed right now. He coughs every now and then, but he is not feverish and his golden curls in the glow of the nightlight just spiral around my heart and hold it there in the softest noose of gratefulness. Once in awhile his heart lips pucker and slop around, making his little divot of a dimple deepen. And I just stare, transfixed. Then there is his absolutely healthy big brother, Brody. His eyes are shut, but those massively long and dark eyelashes make him look like a porcelain doll. He smiles in his sleep, and I love catching him in the act. I stare at him, too. I wonder how I got to be so crazy lucky to have two boys who make my heart feel more awe than it has ever experienced just in watching them sleep. I have been blessed enough to have hiked the Alps, seen the Sistine Chapel, walked the Great Wall, and stared at art painted by the greats, but nothing tops this. Absolutely nothing.
Sometimes I am so consumed by others' issues, by hurt laid on via wet wool blanket to the soul. I waste time trying to rationalize the completely irrational, and it is a poisonous trap. Sometimes I get caught up in the to-do lists and the worries and the bills and the medicine and the lesson plans and the appointments and and and and (even commas). Why? Why do I speed through it all? I know this makes me miss what is so very glorious right this second.
I caught myself on the way to the hospital this morning. There was a great song on the radio. So great that I can't even recall what it was. I wanted to get lost in it. I wanted quiet. But Gideon was in the backseat talking about the first time he ever sank his teeth into an Arby's roast beef sandwich. I heard myself doing the mom "MMMMhmmm... That's nice, honey..." all while cranking up the dial for more volume. What was I doing? What was I doing murdering this moment? This here and now. I could easily download that song later. I was not living in the moment at all. It took twenty whole seconds to glance in the rearview mirror and see my boys back there, picture them flash-forward as teenagers, and begging them for one word in my direction. This chit chat might not be as commonplace by then (but believe me! I will try! I will bribe for a story by then. Or threaten to tell them one of my own if they don't start yapping). I am thankful for that instant of clarity. I am grateful that I was able to be mindful of what I could hear come out of Gideon. And, as always, he never disappoints in his descriptions. He went on in complete dramatic fashion about how when Busi first bought that sandwich for him, he thought the meat was thin skin of some creature whose skin you could see through. But then! Then he TRIED it and it was sooooo tasty. It was meat but thinner. The bun was buttery and it didn't even need sauce to taste good! He said all of this like he had discovered the most sought-after treasure the world has ever known. This was better than any song.
I am happy to report that Gideon's transfusion went beautifully and he had no side effects this time! THANK YOU for those prayers. As far as the bacteria in the blood goes, we are still waiting on that. No news is good news, as the nurses said today.
I say it's all good news. I have the two most precious creatures in all of the world snoozing above my head right now. No one can steal that joy.
I know this clip is an internet sensation and everyone has already seen it, but I love it. I think it's perfect for Thanksgiving because we often say thanks for the obvious blessings, but so many things are taken for granted. Or if you happen to be flying this holiday season, remember: "YOU ARE SITTING IN A CHAIR....IN THE SKY!"