Allowing the Sabbath to Overtake Me

Saturday was our first day of 50 degree (F) temperatures here in Minnesota since the start of the new year. The one where the snow has mostly melted, skies are blue, grass is re-emerging as green, even the iris leaves are breaking forth.

This is the day when we stop all of the therapy routines for Levi, the must-dos and widdle our list down to only the essential medical have-tos.

Even when Mama has a head cold, we shift gears. We dust off the stroller from the garage, the one that got packed away 5 months ago. We search the attic for the late-fall coats. As fast as we can we gather up all the gear and get everything in place to go and sit outside on the back patio.

Every year we do this with Levi, every time this first moment of fresh air and warm sun light up his face, each year his response is the same...

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and falls asleep.

In Minnesota, this is a moment of absolute hope.

A reminder,

every season has it's season,

all things come to pass,

even winter.

A time to cherish

the preciousness of

being together

one more season

one more day.

It is in Levi's

sun-basking stillness

I also pause,

reflecting on winter journey,

grieving for loved ones lost

(Isaac, Uncle Travis, Grandma Black)

giving thanks in today's blessings.

Being a part of pediatric palliative care for much of Levi's life has taught me that Levi's comfort and our families collective quality of life are our top priorities. Our Palliative Care Team encouraged from day one that taking time to “be a family” and inhabiting memory-making moments, even in the midst of Levi's medical realities, is important. It feeds our souls.

These are the moments when we make the small yet significant choices to put quality of life first. We allow a Sabbath within the present moment to overtake our plans for the day. We allow the “work” of therapies, appointments, developmental strategies, and so many other important aspects to Levi's life to Sabbath as well. Even if just for a few hours.

This first moment outside is spontaneous, we never know when it will arrive. Today was the first time in four years when it happened during a time when it was just Levi and I home alone (a rare treat in general). What decadence to get to share this moment with him. To feel his body soften as he fell asleep with the warm sun upon his face. To be able to let the mental humm in my mind of “have tos” fall away, so that I could be more fully present with my son and the precious life we share together.

The peace radiating from Levi within this moment is priceless. As is the delight in the neighbors' faces when they arrived home to see us hanging outside. It was a look of genuine “Wow!” When Younger Brother and Papa returned home from running errands to find Levi and I outside, we got a Double Wow!!

Winter is not yet behind us.

Predictions of snow on Monday are a likely reality. Mama's head-cold places Levi at risk for one of his own. There is a ways to go till the crocuses press forth their friendly blooms, till temperatures above 50degrees become the norm again.

Which is all ok.

One moment at a time is all the Lord gives us anyway.

May you take a moment this week, even if for a moment, to allow the Sabbath of the present moment overtake your plans, to dwell in gratitude for the life you have and those whom you get to share it with.

A Time for Everything

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance, a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing, a time to search and a time to give up, a time to keep and a time to throw away, a time to tear and a time to mend, a time to be silent and a time to speak, a time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.