I would try a little fried okra for any residual congestion, there might be. I know you might not like it, but it never fails to do the trick for my persistent coughs and colds. I am going to be taking some today, just for the symptoms that I am having from hearing about your house's creeping cruds.
NY is full of germs, as you are quite aware. That many people sharing seats and handles of things can't help but breed the worst of sicknesses. Don't be deceived, like Pocahontas. Delicate bodies, like ours, reared in the seclusion of the burbs, are always hotbeds for the worst of sicknesses. What makes city bodies stronger, can truly take us under. Don't you forget it and if you dare try to catch small pox, there in the city, I will come there even into your grave! Don't think you are getting away from me that easy!
Everyday, I face the fears that my father impressed into my soul. There are rational fears and there are irrational ones. When I look at my Zayden, I understand the depth of some of the fears that my father expressed, regularly. Because we loved him, we embraced his fears and some of them came to rest in our own souls to be brought to the cross, in the sanctification process.
When I see the things that bring my Zayden to a fluster, because he can't move the large pieces of his body at his own will. "Someone has to move me. What if they don't come to me?" He cries so pitifully. I am trying to help him learn to move those parts of his body to get around, but until then, we can't just let the other children climb on him.
When I went to the beach, I remember the enormous fear that was my father's that one of the children would drown. He couldn't save us. He never went in, He just stayed on the sidelines in that ocean "discotec". The dance floor was his freedom. He couldn't move any better, in any other arena than that. Someone had taught him to move his body at his own will to melody and He could feel the freedom that noone had to help him. I see that his injuries had made him feel like an invalid, all the more than he was. He was fanatical not to have a sissy handshake. He practiced making sure that those huge non-feeling hands didn't crush another person's hand or sit limply in theirs, for fear. This was awesomely important to him. I always wondered why is he so scared? He can fight anybody. What is he afraid of? I always wondered, what could make a big man pretend to disappear in a car when he sees someone that he knows here or there.
,p>There were some guilty feelings that were attached to his fears. He despised being carried and couldn't imagine the strength of a person or machine that could have lifted him. I think of his fears when I hear that song that I posted here. I think about how God is subduing the multiple fears that my father implanted into my heart {some for safety, some for convenience and even the ones implanted for fun}.I know that God is greater than any fear that I have. I sat face to face with my fears at the beach. I love the beach, but it takes time for my maternal, fearful mind catches up to everyone being a grown up. There are no babies here, mommy.
All the seagulls comfort me with that reminder. The fledgeling are flying, now. You don't need to be afraid, mommy. I am grateful that Jesus understands my heart and soul and doesn't despise a mother's complicated heart.
