Bogging to Remember

Lately my blog posts have been so short. A quick few pictures. A quick thought. It's what I can fit into my day, my thoughts, my life right now. I won't give it up though for so many reasons. It's my on line diary, a place to jot down the feelings of the day, ideas, things our family does, and the events in our lives. Big and little. Putting them here in this space is like putting a stamp on a letter for me. I click that button "publish" in the top corner and I've stamped that memory. It doesn't matter if it was a big event or a little snap shot in the day, it's there, locked, kept forever. Memory saved. And I can move on to more memories, more thoughts, more event, more joy.

But this blog is also a place where I visit with friends. You know who you are. You've changed my life and I love you for it. I certainly haven't been the friend I want to be and I miss visiting your blogs. I'm determined to this week. It's the second half and blogging here without visiting all of you just doesn't feel right.

I like to record all of the happy and when my house looks pretty. Although I'll never ever blog a messy, dirty picture of my house I will blog the messy parts of our lives. Because, like the good stuff, putting the hard things we go through only makes us stronger. So I "stamp" those here as well. So I can look back and say, "hey, look what God has done"

Lately Abigail hasn't been feeling well. Her EoE has for better words "been acting up" I'm not sure it's ever not acting up. Her last endoscopy was poor. High eosinophils. Again. The medication she is on doesn't seem to help. And today my always brave, barely complains girl came into my lap and cried. It was during Anna's private viola lesson. Abigail's lesson had just finished. She held it together and got through her lesson. I didn't even know she wasn't feeling well. But she crawled up in my lap instead of coloring bunnies with markers. She said it "burned so bad". And my heart ached. I've literally run out of things to say to her in these moments. She's had this for eight years. She's eight. I picked her up and carried her into the hallway.

With Anna still playing Bach's Concerto behind the closed door I stood up holding her. Her heavy head on my shoulder, her tears wet on my shirt and I prayed. She joined in.

Hail Mary (just that brings me such comfort)
Full of Grace
Our Lord is with thee (rocking her and feeling such peace)
Blessed art thou among women....

She said to me, "don't tell me you're going to call Dr. Hyamns. He can't do anything. No one can make this go away. Just God"

She's right. And I wonder why I have to have this kind of conversation with my eight year old.

We got home and just as we were walking into the house she got sick. (another part of having EoE)



She's sleeping now. She'll wake up happy. And so will I. Knowing that prayer is the one thing I can give her that can help.