Jonathan and I have been chatting recently about filtering out the clutter in our lives. The things that are requiring too much (time, energy, money…yada yada) from us (and our kiddos) with little to no benefit.
It’s been talk mostly.
Because it’s hard to filter. For various reasons. People pleasing. Inner conflict. Stuck in a rut. Averse to change. Pick your poison.
A good old fashioned detox is good for the soul.
It’s easy to get caught up in doing things. Doing good things. But not every good thing is the right thing. And sometimes finding my way through to the the right (for our family) things can be a murky voyage.
Until there’s clarity.
Clarity comes in an array of ways.
Hearing over the weekend from a daddy blogger that I’ve grown to deeply admire and care for gave us a burst of clarity.
A seizure during the night caused their young son, Kade, to stop breathing. And Kade is now with Jesus and Trevy’s Babu on the true Healing Side. Where there is no more sorrow – no more pain. No more seizures. And complex medical conditions. I hope you’ll take a moment to read the beautiful Eulogy written by Kade’s mommy and daddy here and offer some words of comfort. Or wrap their family in prayer.
That email reminded us anew of what is most precious in our lives.
It doesn’t squeeze my heart every night. Especially now that Trevy’s seizures are more controlled. But once a week or so, the thought will flit through my mind – what if Trevy has a seizure in the night. When the Tylenol PM is at full effect. And the white noise machines are buzzing in our ears. We still use a baby monitor. On occasion have hem-hawed about buying a video unit. He used to wake multiple (and by multiple, I mean at least 5) times a night with clusters of seizures. We haven’t seen any night seizures (though, that doesn’t mean he hasn’t HAD any) post surgery. But it could happen. And twice a month or so I wake up in the wee hours of the morning sweating…worried that it did. And that I slept right through it. Fear sits heavy on my chest as my heart throbs in my ears. I’ll hold my breath by the monitor waiting to hear something. Anything. Praying that he’ll toss in his sleep and kick the wall so I can relax again. Life is fragile. And seizures don’t sleep. And while it’s true that anything could happen to Toby or Bristel too. The reality is…anything is much more likely to happen to Trevor. I’ve read the statistics of those affected by catastrophic epilepsy.
Those night sweats nights provide clarity too. Filter out the unimportant from the truly important. While I’m lying in bed willing my heart to stop throbbing in my ears. Which she does a little more each time I hear him toss or breath deeply. It’s easy then…in the still of the night…to weed out the things that shouldn’t matter so much but we’ve allowed to. Rather than sleep I’ll form cleaning out the Life clutter action plans. Ready to implement in the am. And then the sun is working its way up the skyline bringing a new day with it. Where the grind of everyday life is waiting to murky it all up again. Funny that. How things can be so clear in the dark and so muddled in the day.
The bottom line is…we need to detox. And detoxing isn’t easy ever. But it is necessary. There are things (sports, meetings, therapies, projects, etc.) in our life that are strangling the joy outta us with nothing in return. And we need to stop adding more clutter. I’m a good one for bringing in more clutter. Just yesterday I called a clinic 2 hours away and seriously considered registering Trevor. Because a 2 hour drive in one direction 3 times a week is realistic. Right? Go ahead. Roll you eyes at me. I’ll be joining you! Clutter takes up space and energy that we don’t have to give. Which means we have little to nothing left to give to the
more most important things. We’re not cutting everything out. But we deeply believe the choices we make need to be purposeful and fit into our philosophy of Life as a whole. And we’ve been hashing out together what fits where. And what needs to go.
Jonathan made a phone call the other night. Check.
To be honest, I’m not really sure why I’m even blabbing all this out loud. Must be the dreary weather. It always coaxes the sap outta me. So does knowing that a family from our Seizure Community is grieving. If heart hugs can be felt…I hope they feel the squeeze…