Chapter 2, Vandom Acts of Randallism,

         The doves are cooing out side the breakfast nook where I sit again, two weeks later, still wondering at the days to come for my oldest son, Randall. 

        Healing hath transpired, we are no longer part of Occupy ICU, and he had come home for a brief stretch before taking up residence again in the Bethania wing of the local medical center. His room was at the far top left, and now we wait out the days just above the lower roof line, on the right. As you can see, Bethania, once the Sisters of Mercy hospital here in Wichita Falls. Although the likes of Sister Mary Ignatius and her cohorts no longer attend patients with a clipboard and rosary in hand, I personally gain a sense of comfort from the cross overhead and the Blessed Mother welcoming all.

       For we are all blessed mothers. Birthing and raising and enduring and celebrating the lives of your children remains the greatest of all miracles. Those of us with children secretly identify with Mary's song every Christmas, not the Divine aspect to be sure, but the sheer joy of knowing that your own body nurtures another, that you alone know that little person better than anyone ever will, and that you have been chosen to be their mother.

    Randall's due date, as I mentioned in the last post, could have been any time after April 1. May 13 is certainly any time after April 1, and I recall another frustrating moment of waiting, with birds singing outside, from long ago. Standing at my mother's kitchen window, I gazed out over the azure pool and the ancient swing-set, kelly-green paint peeling off, for the ten billionth time in my life. I wondered when I would ever have this baby, and why it was taking so long, staring at the mauve-blossomed crepe myrtle tree under whose frilly blooms we played as kids. My thoughts in those non-PC days consisted of,  " I am so retarded, I can't even have a baby the right way..."

     Rand has echoed a similar frustration lately, although thankfully it has nothing to do with anyone giving birth. HA " I can't even live a regular life and get sick and get better without some sort of catastrophe...". This girl knows exactly how he feels. 

    Today we wait for an IV therapy to hopefully start raising his platelets so he can get his spleen out and get on with his life. All sorts of panicky thoughts flit through my brain as I look ahead to the IV infusion of the drug, the waiting for his platelets to be intact, the surgery on a man with a chronic hemophilia-type condition.      

   Surgery and hemophilia. Two words that just don't go together. Yeesh.

   And yet, as I sit here in my Star Wars pajamas and think of all the catastrophes/events along the way, and how we have watched God forge ahead of us, letting us follow if we so chose, there is a peace. We are Star Wars nerds to the core, to the point of knowing the language systems of characters and adding them to Randall's care chart -- much to the perplexity of non-Star-Wars-nerd R.N.s. It's a cheesy movie, but today I feel a little like Luke Skywalker, on approach to blow up the Death Star with proton torpedos. 

    Hurtling through a trench, with enemy fire picking off the rest of his squadron, Luke panics. At the last second he hears his mentor's voice, " Luke. Use the Force." Obi-Wan had earlier instructed Luke, "The force is an energy field created by all living things, it surrounds us, it penetrates us, it binds the galaxy together".  He sure needed to use his navigation system to know when to fire. ( In classic cinematography, George Lucas (the director) frames Luke's face transforming as he chooses to release his fears of failure). As peace and confidence floods through him, he shuts off his navigation, allowing faith to overtake his destiny -- fires, fortuitously makes the shot, and saves the day.

     George Lucas isn't directing Randall's life, thank God,  but we are using certainly The Force to carry us through whatever happens next. These nerds believe in the Creator of the Force, the all-encompassing love and energy and power that is God. He may not use the Force to save us, He may, but he always uses it to sustain us and release of of our fears when we choose to let Him flood through our wearied and worried minds.

   Rand-all, may the force of His great love be with you, now and always. 

   Love, Mom