Tuesday, February 24, 2015

The one about casseroles.

Since Addison was born my family life has been pretty crazy. First there was the initial shock and adjustment that comes from welcoming a baby with special needs. Shortly after we began to adjust to our new normal we were inducted into the community of families of children with complex medical concerns. Nothing can prepare you for this life. It's chaotic and unpredictable. And without the support of the amazing people surrounding us there is no way we would have made it these past two years.

The second most common question we hear, right after "How is Addison?", is "What can I do to help?",  followed quickly by, "Can I bring a meal?"  The meal question is typically directed at one of my grown siblings or myself by dear friends who don't want to burden my mom. I always hesitate before replying, "A meal would be lovely. How about next Tuesday?" 

I hesitate because I don't want to accept. Nagging at the back of my mind is a feeling of guilt. We don't need a meal. Realistically, my father or pretty much any of my siblings could pull together a meal, from the grocery store shelves to the dinner table, in less time than you would take you to calculate just how many times to multiply that recipe to feed a family of eleven. It doesn't make sense for someone else to invest their time and resources into something that I don't perceive as a help to us or Addison (the child doesn't even eat, for crying out loud!).

And then I'm reminded of this simple truth: it isn't all about us. Serving is every bit as much about the server as the served. Our friends love us. They love Addison. And sometimes prayer isn't enough. I speak as someone who has been on both sides. When people you love are hurting you need a means much more tangible than prayer to help. I'm not knocking prayer. There is nothing as helpful or effective as prayer. But I also know the joy from pouring yourself into creating something and the satisfaction of using your hands to serve a hurting friend and maybe, just maybe, make their troubles a little more bearable. Who am I to take that away from someone?

So I nod my head. "A casserole would be lovely. How about next Tuesday?"

Keep the prayers (and casseroles) coming.

Thursday, February 5, 2015

Hello, my name is Brianna.

Hello, my name is Brianna.

If you are an old friend, thank you for reading. If you are a new here, welcome.

Hello, my name is Brianna. And sometimes I loose my way.

A fourteen year old enters the world of blogging without any expectations. You write a few words and rejoice when your first post is published. It's new and exciting. And then you meet other bloggers, read other blogs and your expectations are raised.

I hate mediocre as much as I hate indecision.

Seriously. It drives me crazy and I would much rather not do anything at all than do it substandard.

This past year has been one hell of a year. Sorry, but there really is no other way to describe it. I have experienced greater levels or emotional and physical exhaustion and strain than I thought possible. And, honestly? When your life is just surviving day to day blogging is something you scoff at as a waste of time and the little bit of energy you have left.

Hello, my name is Brianna. And I expect perfection in my life.

But the crazy thing about blogging is this: it's not even real. Think about it for a while and you'll get what I mean. It's not concrete. It cannot be handled. It's words and pictures thrown into a vast void that none of us understand. I don't suggest arguing philosophy with me...my mother taught me everything I know about debating and I will talk you in circles until your head spins. :)

Hello, my name is Brianna. Welcome to my mediocre blog.

Because when you've been where I've been the past year...you realize somethings...especially arbitrary, not even real things...like blogging...don't have to be perfect. It's nice to have a place to be mediocre.

Hello, my name is Brianna.

Take heart.

Hope in the Lord.

And carry on.