Saturday, August 6, 2011
He didn't get a chance to answer because something distracted us in the car and another conversation began. But, I can tell you a bit about sanctuary...
Wylie is the ultimate re-user in the reduce, reuse, recycle mantra. If given the chance to save something or throw it away, he never throws away. Now, in the extreme this is called hoarding I think. But, Wylie doesn't keep trash, etc. Only things of purpose and value. So, his room is a safe spot for unwanted items because Wylie sees value and purpose as unchanging constants. And, not only does he perceive these values as constant, he has catalogued them in his mind and can provide details about the time and place the things were acquired.
All of this could set Wylie up to be an amazing docent or curator. Maybe of his own collection?
Monday, May 16, 2011
Above the white noise of his HALO REACH game comes the question: "Mom, what is the meaning of Life?"
Keeping with my professional training as a skilled educator--I stall for time.
"What do you think the meaning is?"
Wylie expands his original question: "What I want to know is, why is life so full of happy, good times but then sad and hard times?"
And, that shames me into thinking about this sad, lonely, ZigZagStraight blog....without a good post in almost a year.
The conversation that followed will be the subject of the next new posts!
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
That was all on the Monday before Wylie's visit the next day to his dentist.
Now, if you didn't link to the previous post part deux of the duel will not really resonate with you, but for those of you who recall...
I pick up Wylie from school and begin the drive to Dr. Jiminez . We had a very positive experience there for the boys' cleanings. Wylie knew about the appointment so there was no surprises here. However, as we drove over anxiety began to leak out of Wylie like Niagra Falls.
"I'm not getting a shot, right?"
"It's not going to hurt me, right?"
"They're not going to make me smell anything, right?"
"Um...well, " I had to be honest. The doctor and I had agreed to use nitrous to help Wylie relax for the appointment. This revelation sends Wylie into full-panic mode. Campbell does his best to encourage him. This only increases the water pressure. I keep saying "You'll have to ask Dr. Jiminez, Wylie, do you trust him?" More water.
By the time we got to the office, the falls had dried up and Wylie presented himself stoically. The capable assistant invited "mom" to come back with Wylie, but I deferred to him. He said he was fine with just he and the doctor.
Out in the waiting room, Campbell did his homework sitting in the stump of an old tree and I immersed myself in a short novel under the watchful eyes of forest critters (Dr. Jiminez's office is fashioned after the 100 Acre wood). I tried to avoid all references to time so as to remain calm, cool, collected, detached.
A very short 45 mintues later, the capable assistant comes out with a briefing:
"He did great, Mom. Four fillings done and he did just fine. No tears or resistance. We had The Secret of Nimh playing on the screen and he was completely engrossed. Even told Doctor to move out of the way one time. He didn't want to get up because the movie wasn't over. Just so you know...he did tell us after that it was incredibly painful for him and that he was screaming in his mind." Because the staff had only seen Wylie once before, she didn't know how to take this declaration. I assured her it was quite normal for Wylie and they had succeeded where others had failed.
Soon after, Wylie comes out with a triumphant, yet somewhat nitrous-y grin. He never heard a word the assistant said about the visit. We all walk out to the car.
Campbell asks: "So, Wylie how did you do?"
Wylie: "It was so painful. I was screaming in my mind. But, The Secret of Nimh was on and the doctor couldn't hear it. I can eat in 30 minutes. Can we go to Blockbuster and rent Secret of Nimh and then to McDonalds, Mom? It will be 30 minutes then."
We drove into the sunset. Campbell looked at me through the rearview mirror, shook his head and rolled his eyes. Wylie was lost somewhere between his first and tenth nugget only 29 minutes away. As for me? I shook my head, too, except that made my mouth hurt and reminded me of my impending dental drama. With the entire left side of my bite shut down, 800 mg of motrin coursing through my veins and an empty stomach, I was pretty close to those Niagra Falls myself. But, looking over at my brave son, I decided to smile in my mind instead.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
There's a lot of zig zag going on at the Harris Ranch right now. Who knew that title would be at once descriptive and prophetic? This is a place-holder entry for future blogs on:
- Wylie & I: dueling dental drama
- 8/10 of a mile
- Jehovah Jireh
- Band mania
Wait for it!
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Thursday, April 8, 2010
I am all for living and not simply prolonging. But, I wonder why I am seemingly unconvinced about the better things ahead just now.
I'm calling C.S. Lewis. I'm using a spiritual shout-out on Christianity Cash-Cab. I don't know the answer and time is running out.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
A group of us are learning about life's healing choices and we read a verse from the bible where Jesus says:
"Come to me, all who are burdened and weary, and you will find rest for your souls."
What does that mean?
What does it mean for my soul to rest? In our culture, we never really rest. How can we rest when we are perpetually reachable via text? How can we rest when multiple tasks are tackled with the greatest of ease through technology? Instead of lightening our load this efficiency in tasking has weighed us down. I don't believe anyone truly rests anymore.
But, maybe that's not the kind of rest Jesus was describing.
When I put my feet up, my body rests temporarily. What do I have to put up for my soul to rest?
One common definition explains that if something rests it's in a position such that its weight is supported. Am I in position such that my soul--the weight of my soul--is supported? As I consider this question, my mind wanders to the image of a mother cradling a baby while it sleeps. We envy this position; we boast sometimes about "sleeping like a baby". Babies sleep quite well nestled against a parents' soft, warm skin where the entire weight of the child is supported by loving, secure arms. How long has it been since my body or soul has known rest like that?
Maybe the question is not what do I have to put up for my soul to rest.
Maybe the question is what do I have to take down?
Jesus said "Come to me."
What is in my way today?