Good to me

It's been a cool, wet summer so far.

Which means it's not always suitable park weather, much less pool weather.


We have made it to the pool a few times.  I'm well enough now to function as a lifeguard for my small children.  I can jump off the diving board too--although when I tried to dive, I regretted it.  Ouch.  My shoulders aren't that sturdy.


Being chilly, I was standing shin-deep in the "little pool," shivering and watching Caleb splash around at my feet, when he announced that I had "pickle legs."


?


Tickle legs?  No.  Clearly "pickle."


Pickle?  Pickle.


I looked down at my legs, and finally said, "Do you mean goosebumps?"


Yes!  Goosebumps.


I suppose pickles sort of have goosebumps too.  So apparently I have pale pickle legs.

A bird showed up to play trucks with Caleb.  You can just see it on the left in this picture.

I took the youngest three kids to see an abridged version of Fancy Nancy: The Musical last week.  

It involved singing, dancing, a tea party, fancy costumes, and, unfortunately, a good deal of drama when Nancy and her friend were disappointingly cast as a tree and an oyster in their fictional dance recital.  

In a room packed with kids and parents, Caleb burst into loud sobs.  He was so disturbed.

Naturally, we were in the very front, so everyone got a nice look (and listen) at us as I stepped through the crowd to take him out.  

He refused to even reenter the building.  Since then, all I've heard about is, "Don't like Fancy Fancy."  When I got him up the next morning:  "Don't like Fancy Fancy."  There has been much promising that Fancy Fancy is all done and we're not taking him back to Fancy Fancy.

I'm so much better than I was.  I can take care of my kids, and even other people's kids too (see above picture).  I can ascend stairs without even holding on.  I can walk at a pace of 3 miles per hour.  It's been days since I've taken any painkiller.


But... I'm not all the way better.  I'm weary of my stiff shoulders, my sore face, my leaden legs.  I'm tired of feeling worn out every afternoon.  I miss stretching out my arm under my pillow when I sleep.


I just want to put it all behind me and forget about having been sick.  I want to straighten up the house and decorate it.  I want to get on top of things.


But certain movements that still bring pain, my lack of stamina, and the piles of unfinished unpacking all serve to remind me that I have been sick, very sick.  And as much as I don't want to think it, I'm not all better yet.


It's really frustrating.


Praise God, who draws us to worship every Sunday.  "For why? The Lord our God is good."


That line was my "oh yeah" moment this Sunday.  He is good.  He has ordained this continued weakness for my good.  It is an expression of His love.  He has good in mind that I can't yet understand.  This slow recovery is not an obstacle to His good purpose, but the avenue of it.

From the hearts of the weak

From the shouts of the strong

From the lips of all people

This song we raise, Lord

William Kethe, "All People That on Earth Do Dwell"
Don Harris and Gary Sadler, "Lord Most High"