In between work and laundry this afternoon, I've been building my 'inspiration' file for kids' bedrooms and storage ideas. Know what's awesome about having a little girl? EVERYTHING. Well, everything except the future state of my bank account :)
Here's what I was drooling over today, compliments of Pottery Barn Kids...
Brandy posted this verse on Facebook, and it spoke right to the very core of me today. It's one of those verses we learned in Sunday School when we were small, but it just kind of rattled me today and brought fresh perspective on everything that's swirling around in my head right now. It's kind of amazing when that happens.
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29.11
Forget those pathetic girly inspirational songs. My current favourite get-out-of-bed-and-fight power song... Now officially lent to my mom for her own personal use as required :)
I'm gonna walk my faith Gonna raise my sword I'm gonna fight my battle Gonna praise my lord
It's getting heavy But I'm ready To take on this world and rock steady So come on, bring it on
I'm gonna face my demons Gonna take them down I'm gonna keep on moving Gonna make my sound
It's getting heavy But I'm ready To take on this world and rock steady So come on, bring it on Bring it on
I love this blog, written by a twentysomething woman named Kerri who lives with Type 1 Diabetes. It's a different disease. I was 10, not 6. And it was a sheep and a duck, not a kitty. But there's something in her writing and in her story that reminds me of me, and reminds me why I fight.
Here's a sneak peek...
It was six years, until me.
I didn’t know her before my arrival, but from what I hear, she was a good kid. Running all over the place. Devouring every book she could find. This kid even read in the shower when she was that small. Bloated, damp books strewn about the bathroom. She tortured her sister relentlessly. She tried to play the games her older brother taught her.
She smiled a lot. And laughed out loud.
I’m not sure when I was called out to stay with her, but I’ve been told it was when she was sick as a little kid on her sixth birthday. She had a fever that lasted for days. Lethargic little thing, under the careful watch of her ever-vigilant mother. I remember visiting her then, settling gently into her tiny body and making it my home. No one knew I was there. They wouldn’t know for six more months.
Six months until me.
She doesn’t remember much of her own diagnosis, but I do. I remember when they found me. I remember when she peed in the cup at the doctor’s office before she started second grade and they detected the ketones. They called her parents. Her mom and dad brought her in for follow up bloodwork. And then they found me. September 1986.
She didn’t cry much. Her mom and dad brought her to the hospital, where she stayed for two weeks. Her parents bought her a stuffed Kitty that she toted around everywhere… the doctors became used to her little face and the presence of the stuffed animal. She said that Kitty was diabetic, too, and both Kerri and Kitty received injections. The fabric of the animal became a little stained from injecting saline, but it made her smile again. She didn’t feel alone.
And she grew up. Even though I was there. She competed in spelling bees. She tap danced for 15 years. She played soccer, albeit badly. (But I had nothing to do with that.) She kissed a boy. She drove her car. She battled with her parents and confided in her friends. She wrote stories. She keeps a journal, still. She went to college. She moved out on her own. She succeeded. She failed. She adopted too many cats. She fell in love. She dreamed. And then she fell in love again.
She had six years, until me. People thought I would change her life, make her sad. Make her sick. Make her angry.
But instead, I’ve made her strong. I’ve made her fearless. And I’ve made her appreciate everything she has, everything she fights for. She hasn’t let me make her choices. She refuses to let me own her. She controls me. When she is in her last moments, whether sixty years from now or today, she will know, with certainty, that she has lived.
Sharing the journey that has taken me from being a single girl in the advertising agency world to a married mommy running my own freelance writing and consulting business (and every random adventure in between).
THINGS I LOVE: Thunderstorms, power ballads, princess camping, exploring new cities, Jon Stewart, greatest hits CDs, clever ads, packing for a trip, George Clooney, impractical footwear, movies about spies, Starbucks, reading an entire book in one sitting, a house full of friends, movies about spies, buying presents, a perfect French manicure, warm modernist architecture, getting flowers for no reason, being faux brunette, Mary Poppins, making lists on Post-It notes, decorating for Christmas, having a brilliant middle-of-the-night 'aha!' idea and then actually remembering it in the morning / THINGS I HATE: People who whine, wearing sweats in public, 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner, birds, American tourists in foreign countries, taking down the Christmas tree, poems that rhyme, the misuse of semicolons, being lied to, unpacking after a trip, being closed-minded, naming your kid something common but then spelling it stupidly, cowboys, overly cautious drivers, fake curse words, ridiculously long surnames, strangers who start awkward conversations with you in places you can't readily escape
