Mascara Smears

...Messy mascara-smeared tissues from an afternoon 

of receiving love and admitting weariness.

...Deliciously lovely chocolates shared 

over an evening conversation in my kitchen.

I was blessed with an at-home sister weekend. 

One of my older sisters came for a visit with her beautiful little girl.

The weekend went by in a blur, and I finally had some big tears. 

Accompanied by a long, long sister hug.

When she was about to leave for home, she wanted to pray for me and for my family in what we are facing in a few days. 

When she asked if I wanted to pray, I tried. 

And then the tears came. 

Not even brought on by what is coming this week for our darling middle son, 

but for the sudden exhaustion and overwhelmed heart 

from the reality that

All 3 of my children have issues with their eyes. 

Each one of them.

And it broke my heart.

I often smile about it all, 

even joke about the unexpected issues or new hurdles to push through:

Battles with patches, keeping on glasses, losing glasses, nagging about glasses, straining through eye exercises, surprises of bifocals, mastering eye drops, facing eye surgeries, constant adjustments on little boy-glasses, difficulties in depth perception, out of town eye appointments, financial costs of the vision needs, questions from strangers. 

And those darling magnified eyes.

I guess I have to laugh. 

It's what comes to my mind when I explain things, 

when I am around others and when I try to cope with 

the needs of those 3 pairs of young eyes.

What can I do but smile and push through?

I love 'em so dearly.

Yet it has been exhausting, when I stopped to face it this afternoon.

It was hard to stop those tears, 

but it was also a release.

Right into the comforting arms of my precious sister.

She let me lean on her, 

She wrapped her arms around me, and I held on tight.

And those unexpected tears healed a bit of that sudden grief.

I have been replaying this thought in my head these past few days:

How much more painful and difficult my boys' eye problems would be IF there were no solutions, no treatments, no possibilities.

Imagining what sadness that would leave makes my heart hurt.

But I do not want to be live in discouragement, 

and I do not want to dig into despairing thoughts.

(These are just the burdens of this momma of boys.)

So I will attempt to be reminded of the hope. And the gifts.

Gift #1:

My Sunday school class of ladies.

Their heartfelt prayers.

Their care, concern.

Their tears FOR us.

Genuine love and compassion...

These ladies are blessing me more than they can know.

Thank. You.

Gift #2:

My bulletin board.

-Emails and notes received 

since our first Omaha appointment earlier this month.

-Daily verses sent to me from dear friends.

 -Those beautiful words of "Be Still, My Soul."

And this evening, that sweet middle son wanted to help me cut them out so I could put them on my bulletin board.

This board is an essential reminder:

Of being prayed for and cared about.

Of God's promises.

Of being LOVED.

Gift #3:

Those 3 boys.

Their silliness.

Their giggles.

Their wonder.

Their observations.

Their questions.

Their abilities.

Their little boy maturity.

Their storytime cuddles.

Their calls for "momma".

Gift #4:

A visit from my dad's brother.

He shared from his experiences, his years of gained wisdom.

He had tears for his brother's childhood health scares.

He had sobs for his daughter's enormous life change after that accident.

He gave us his time and his heart to bless and encourage 

and remind of God's control and God's strength.

Gift #5:

Falling asleep on my husband's strong shoulder.

We are both in anxious-struggle while we are in this wait-to-see.

But those shoulders of his, those arms of his... needing them.

And so: 
This week has finally arrived.

(And it does seem like finally, 

even though it truly has not been that long in the scheme of it all. 
Perception.)

It seems dramatic, but it is hard to even picture Thursday. Or even Wednesday afternoon. All I can see it Tuesday night at Rainbow House and Wednesday early morning checking our boy in for his scan. Beyond that? Cloudy. 
How can I envision beyond it... the news we will receive, for better or worse?

I wish I could say I have spent each and every moment praying for my son.

But honestly, this quote is very convicting.

This weary heart and mind has given long minutes and long hours to thinking. (And fighting worry for our boy.) 

And sharing the situation. 

And receiving comfort.

But actual focused praying on my own? Has been hard.

So the prayers from you all are that essential piece. 

And maybe my heart has been praying without deliberate awareness... 

Just know your prayers are cherished.

Gift #6: 

Prayers from others.
Our church's Wednesday night prayer group.
Family.
Friends.
Family of friends.
Friends of friends.
Friends of family.
Beyond this state, beyond my knowing.
Deepest, most real gift!

With a grateful heart.

That is counting down the days.

And for-now dry eyes,

Elizabeth