Long before I knew that Ashley’s grandfather’s funeral service would be this past Friday morning, I had asked MacKenzie’s dad if I could have her for this past weekend.  I actually asked before I found out I had mono, so I’ve been a bit anxious as I’ve wondered if I’d feel up to having her with me.  But I’ve been feeling good the past few days and my blood tests continue to come back showing improvements, so I decided that it would be fine to have her for the weekend.

I drove up to Knoxville late Thursday evening and, on my way, called MacKenzie’s dad to ask if I could surprise her by taking her to school on Friday morning.  I stayed overnight with my mom and, since she was more than willing to watch Aviean, I left her house very early Friday morning in order to pick up one very happy MacKenzie.

I told her she could pick anywhere for breakfast and, naturally, she chose Dunkin Donuts.  We had a very sweet breakfast together before I took her to school.  I had gone to a bakery earlier and, when MacKenzie got ready to get out of my car, I gave her a small box and told her not to open it until lunchtime.  Inside was a vanilla cupcake with a little note from me telling her that I loved her.  Are children not the best things on this planet to love?

I went to the funeral next and, although it was a sad occasion, really enjoyed spending time with Ashley and her family.  Since the extended family was together, I was able to get some group family photos for them in addition to photos of the military service.  After that, I picked up Aviean, grabbed a quick bite of lunch with her and went back to MacKenzie’s school to pick her up so we could head to Cleveland.

After I finished a couple of things at my office, I made tacos for the girls and we had a fun dinner together.  We played baby dolls next, did a bit of ballet and, before long, were ready for bed.  The girls slept in Saturday morning and, when they woke up, we had breakfast in bed before I left them with a sitter so I could go to a book club meeting.  I was really torn about going to the meeting while I had them, but this group is something I really want to be a part of mainly because it’s full of women who are old enough to be my mother and grandmother.  I’ve been praying for God to send me some older, local women to have in my life and, when I got an invitation to join their book club, I almost couldn’t believe how perfectly He answered my prayers.  I have no idea why they chose to invite a 25 year old to join them, but I’m so, so glad they did.

When I got home, I got the girls dressed and we headed to Chattanooga to go to the aquarium!  But I’ll tell you more about that, tomorrow (pictures, too!).  As you can imagine, I was exhausted by the time we got home, so Saturday night was pretty chill at my house — a few rounds of Candy Land and an early bedtime.  We went to church on Sunday morning, had friends over for lunch, spent all afternoon playing together and, last night, Aviean and I drove MacKenzie home to Knoxville.

In other words, just a perfect weekend.

Over the last few years, I’ve taken thousands of photographs and never once have I cried while listening for the click of my camera.

Until today, that is.

Puryear, Smith and Flores families?  It was an honor to share in your celebration of life today.

It’s Thursday evening and I’m writing from a small yellow table in the corner of a McDonald’s PlayPlace.  In about an hour, I’ll be heading to Knoxville which means my little ladybug will be spending some quality time in her car seat this evening (departure time conveniently scheduled for bedtime!).  I thought she might like to get some energy out before our trip and, since I’m not feeling up to chasing her through my house or any other location for that matter, we’ve found ourselves being guests at this lovely germ-laden indoor playground.  I’m allowing the red slide to parent her for a few minutes, but even that seems to be working in my favor — almost every single time she comes down it, I’m being offered a hug which I’m gladly accepting in between short bursts of typing.

I’ve had another full day of feeling good!  My throat is still giving me some trouble, but I can now drink and eat fairly easily which makes a big difference.  I’ve been back at work on a full-time basis for over a week now and, believe it or not, I am currently caught up on both my and Aviean’s laundry, too.  I realize this isn’t impressive to those of you with husbands, careers, children, etc. but I like to celebrate the small victories and may I assure you that an empty laundry basket is most certainly an achievement we can all celebrate.

Aviean and I are headed to Knoxville tonight because, tomorrow morning, I’ll be attending a funeral.  One of my childhood friends, Ashley, lost her grandfather this week and I’ll be joining her family in celebrating his life.  He was a decorated military veteran and will be given a funeral fitting of the honor he’s due and, at her family’s request, I’ll be photographing certain parts of the service.  I had already planned to be at the funeral and am glad that there’s at least a little something I can “do” for them right now, even if it’s small.

Over the last couple of days, as Ashley has begun working through the grieving process, we’ve talked (through texts, mainly) about the miracle of life.  If you’ll remember, it was only a few months ago that Ashley welcomed her second child into the world while I stood by watching, camera in hand. Now, a few short weeks later, she’s watched mortal life slowly leave someone she loves very deeply.  When she texted to tell me her grandfather had been admitted to the hospital, I couldn’t help but think about the call I received a few months ago letting me know she was in labor.  When she told me he had been sedated, I thought about the arrival of her anesthesiologist with an epidural.  And when she told me that he was gone, I thought about the moment I watched her son enter the world.

The night that Ashley gave birth, I came back to the hospital after her other visitors had left.  It was late and I thought that I would see how she was feeling, if that darling baby needed to be held.  She was awake and, as I sat beside her hospital bed holding her promise, I told her that I thought that childbirth might be the closest way to experience God while still being mortal because, when that baby is placed in your arms, it is with the knowledge that the last arms holding it before yours were those of our very God.

If you have read my blog for awhile, you may have realized that, while I was holding Ashley’s baby that night, I was marking a year since the baby who lived in my house had left.

– — –

I made a mistake and I want to attempt to make it right.

In 2008, one of my college roommates came to live with me when she found out that she was pregnant as a single woman.  She was alone and I wanted her to come; if she had not come to me, I would have gone to her.

With her full permission and blessing, I blogged about her journey with me for months.  I told you about her first doctor’s appointment, the baby shower some friends and I gave her and the night he was born.

And then, when she left one morning while I was in the shower for a new life in another state, I made a mistake.  I blogged about it.

When I think about those days, the rational side of me knows that I was experiencing shock and that the actions I took in those first few moments were born out of that shock, stress and grief.  There were people locally who knew that something was amiss and, in the middle of all of that pain, I decided to just go ahead and address it on my blog before anyone else had the chance to begin speculating and make false assumptions about her, the baby or myself.  I wrote through tears and handled it in what I thought — truly, honestly thought at the moment — was the best way.

It wasn’t.

I should have not written that post (which no longer exists and hasn’t for some time now).  I should have given an explanation that she was no longer living in my house and left it at that.  But I didn’t and, over the year and a half that has followed, I’ve regretted telling you how she left and how it hurt me more times than I can begin to tell you.  I have sent an apology to her at the last contact information I had for her and, in addition to that apology, I wanted to publicly apologize to her as well.  I’ve had this on my heart for awhile and I didn’t want to go another day without doing it.

– — –

I apologize, M.  Please forgive me.

So, as I told you earlier this week in my sleep-written post, my cousin, Aviean’s father, has moved in with me.

Meet Israel.  And his daughter.  But you already know her.

Israel isn’t wearing that mask because I’m putting his picture on the blog; he’s wearing that mask because that’s his birthday gift from his daughter.  We go all out for birthdays, you know.

Israel has a sister; her name is Marisa.  You may remember that I told you recently that Marisa is engaged which means that I am now engaged to the idea of losing weight to look good in a bridesmaid dress this fall.

Meet Marisa, who is standing above Coy.  When Marisa marries this fall, Coy will become her stepson.  Also, when Marisa marries this fall, Coy will become my reason to purchase little boy Christmas gifts instead of all girl gifts.

You might be asking yourself “Why is a party happening in the home of a girl who has mono?”  That, my friends, is a valid question.  The answer is found in the fact that my doctor continues to say I’m allowed to be around people as long as I’m not sharing my saliva with them.  At the same time, Israel was having a birthday and it’s been many, many years since there has been an opportunity for our family to celebrate his birthday.  So I made a few calls, sent a few Facebook messages and welcomed 27 people into my house for pizza and birthday cake (thoughtfully paid for by my mother).

The night before the party, I found out that one of Israel’s friends, Ryan, was celebrating his birthday the next day as well.  Ryan is a single father with full custody of three beautiful little girls.  Ryan has no family in our town.  And so, I took Israel’s cell phone into my capable little hands, dialed Ryan’s number and said the following:

“Ryan.  What are you doing for your birthday tomorrow?”

He did not have plans.  So, I informed him that he now had plans.  I can be so bossy when needed.

There was room enough on the cake for two names and there just happened to be some gifts on the table for Ryan, too.

It was a very happy evening in mi casa.

– — –

And now, for an update with numbers:

47 – the number of emails from you in my blog inbox that I will be answering very soon

0 – the number of nights I’ve run a fever since Monday

1 – the number of cupcakes delivered to my office by my friend Perry

18 – the number of snowflakes I spot out my window

2 – puppies who continue to win over hearts night after night

7 – hours of sleep I got last night whilst Miss Aviean was with her grandmother

1,283 – hours I wish I had to blog all the stories I have for you

It’s nearly midnight on this gorgeous Monday evening and I’ve just settled myself in bed for a good, long chat with you.  I’ve got to admit that I wish we were having it over coffee (you) and Sunny Delight (me), but I suppose our laptops will make do just fine.  I’ve got all kinds of things to tell you, including some important news when it comes to the current inhabitants of la casa de Amy Beth y Snuggles y Cuddles.

I think the last time I wrote was Thursday night; after I finished writing, I ended up having a pretty bad night.  I knew that sometime had “changed” with the mono, so I went back to the doctor only to find out that I had acquired double inner ear infections.  Friday was a very slow, painful day.  On Saturday, I was determined to enjoy the sunshine so I took a blanket and pillow from my bed, went over to campus and found myself a perfect little plot of grass.  A quick text to my college girls resulted in quite a few of them joining me with their own blankets and textbooks, the latter of which was never used, of course.  What girl has time to study when she’s laying in the grass with her girlfriends?

Some of them wanted to go to a movie that night and I decided that I’d go but, at the last minute, I had to cancel because my ears began hurting and I just wanted to go to bed.  I ended up getting a call to ask me to take Avi so, after getting her home and settled, I got in bed, too.  You probably have already picked up on the fact that I didn’t have Avi at the house while I have been contagious, but my doctor has given the clear for me to be around people now as long as they don’t eat after me, drink after me or kiss me for the next few months.

You can imagine how the latter is going to negatively impact my already full dating life.  OH, THE IRONY.

During the night on Saturday, I woke up crying because my ears were hurting so bad and I didn’t know what to do to make it better.  I’ve also had trouble during this getting liquids and food down (because my tonsils are so swollen that it’s difficult for me to even swallow water) and, by this point, I was dehydrated, hungry and in pain.  I just cried in bed for awhile (very quietly as to not wake the angel sleeping on a pallet I made for her near my bed) and waited until morning came.  When it did, I called my mom and we made plans for her to drive to my town for the day.  She got here around lunchtime and I could have kissed the ground she walked on I was so thankful to have her here.  She found things I could eat and drink, started my laundry for me and even helped me get my guest bedroom clean and organized.

The reason that it was important for me to have that bedroom ready is because, last night, Aviean’s father (who is my cousin) moved in with me.  He has moved back to my town and I’ve asked him to live with me so that he can see Aviean on a regular basis.  I know that I’ve never sat down and written a post about why Aviean is with me so much right now; maybe one day that post will come as an explanation later on when the timing is right.  Right now, just know that I’m enjoying adjusting to a life that more often includes a four year old than not.

– — –

Okay, so I fell asleep in bed typing that last night.  Literally, fell asleep with my laptop in the bed with me.  Ooops?  I’ll tell you more, soon.

Hello, loves.

It’s 8:31 p.m. and I am in bed!  Who thinks this is a good idea?  I know I do.

Nightmares again last night, so I was up early today.  I had no hurry to go into the office, so I worked from bed and the couch with a little toast and jam for breakfast before heading in around mid-morning.  I met two of my college girls in the Dining Hall for lunch and we ate at a table for three, but I wasn’t that hungry.  I had a bowl of Apple Jacks and a salad, skipping over today’s choice of Thai-themed food.

Perk of my job: basically, every workday if I wanted, I can eat lunch in our Dining Hall for free.  And since my college girls — well, almost all of them — are on campus, I do rotating lunches with them as much as I can.  We talk about boys, their roommates, boys, orphans, boys and sometimes the topic of boys comes up, but only occasionally.  I then fasten the button on my long brown coat and walk back to my office, happy and fulfilled, proud of my girls and wonder, really, how does Apple Jacks cereal taste so good?

– — –

I had dinner with another of my college girls tonight.  She’s a senior, graduating in May.  Over dinner, we discussed: grad school?  Job?  Stay here?  Move back home?  The boy?  Does the boy like her?  But is it right?  Maybe.  Maybe not?

I think the age I’m in now, my mid-twenties, is just fascinating if you really think about it.  And, my friends’ lives, too.  I have friends right now who are making decisions about their jobs, further schooling, marriage, babies, etc.  Small decisions, big decisions — making them one after another.  It reminds me of going to get my driver’s license renewed last year, the day I turned 25.

I was sitting in the waiting room, watching a sixteen year old take the written test for her license and I was suddenly struck with the thought that no sixteen year old is mature enough, responsible enough to have a driver’s license. I wanted to walk up to the girl’s mother and ask her if she was sure about this, if maybe they shouldn’t just wait a year or two, really, what’s the rush?

But instead I just sat there, waiting for my turn to pay for a new license of my own.

– — –

There have been two things I’ve wished for while I’ve been sick, two moments when I have felt especially vulnerable.

The first was early on, one night when my fever was high.  I was in bed, turned on my side, aching all over.  I wanted someone to sleep beside me, my back pressed into their chest, their arm around me.  I was tossing and turning and, at one point, actually said aloud “Surely, surely You don’t mean for me to do this alone, do You?” with a hint of assumed betrayal in my voice.

And then tonight, earlier when my head began hurting and I began wishing for someone waiting for me at home, maybe just a hand placed to the side of my head, a gentle pat, pat, pat. Come and sit down at the couch, Amy Beth, come and sit down here beside me for awhile.

It made me think of you two girls tonight.

Your husband doesn’t always do that for you, does he?  Sometimes he watches the football game instead, I’m sure.  He doesn’t notice that your head hurts, that you don’t feel well.  You’re exhausted, he’s asleep.

And you, the other one, the one at home alone tonight.  You’d pay an awful lot tonight if you could just buy what you don’t own, wouldn’t you?  What price you wouldn’t pay for the touch of another human being as you go to sleep tonight.

Well, come here for a second, the both of you.  Pat, pat, pat.

Let me just begin by saying that I don’t think you’re going to be happy to hear this, BUT I CAN EXPLAIN.

I went back to work today.

Granted, I wasn’t actually supposed to go back until next week.  Like, Tuesday of next week.  Okay, maybe Tuesday of next week.  I have an appointment next Tuesday when I was supposed to be told whether or not I was ready to go back to work then.  What I’m trying to say is that, if any of you go to the same doctor as me, I’m going to need you not to mention this little thing of me going back to work early.

In my defense, I’m not contagious at the moment (well, unless I’m kissing someone or letting them drink after me, etc.).  I didn’t plan to go back today, but I woke up at 4:32 a.m. screaming from a nightmare that was, undoubtedly, from the steroids.  And let me just tell you about it.

I’ve never mentioned this on the blog before because I’m afraid you’ll think I’m, well, crazy, but one of the biggest fears I struggle with is something happening to Snuggles y Cuddles.  I think this partly comes from the fact that I didn’t really have pets growing up and so this is my first time loving an animal, much less two of them.

The other side of this isn’t so cute.  If you’ll remember, I got the first puppy before going back to get the second puppy a couple of weeks later. During those two weeks, this punk teenage kid sent an email to me at the Starlite office telling me that they were going to break into the office, take my puppy and kill it.  He described how he was going to kill it and, to this day, I can still remember reading that email in my office and feeling the blood drain from my face.  (Don’t worry; he was dealt with swiftly.)

Somehow that experience took root in me and produced a fear that my puppies are going to die.  Now, I know they are going to die someday, but I struggle with worrying that they’re going to run into the street, develop a tumor, become lost, etc.  If you are not a pet owner and cannot identify with what I’m talking about, please know that I am aware of how ridiculous this must sound to you.

So last night I dreamed that my smallest puppy, Cuddles, ran out into the road and a red truck ran over him and I couldn’t stop it.  I woke up screaming and it took me awhile to fall back asleep.  I woke up a couple of hours later and decided to take a shower and, if that worked well, try heading to my office.  Please don’t get mad at me; I wouldn’t have done it if I thought I would get anyone sick.  I have my own spacious, private office and was very content in there today, back in the land of the living.

And, get this!  I ate lunch today!  I ate a full meal and it was wonderful!  I can’t actually taste anything right now but, for the first time in days, I was hungry!  And I think taking in some calories must have helped the steroids because, and I don’t know how to put this more plainly, I COULD CLIMB A SMALL BUILDING RIGHT NOW.

Instead I’m doing a load of laundry and writing this but, if I wanted, climb I could.

– — –

Last night, I was texting someone and I told them that “the marsupials” (i.e. Snuggles y Cuddles) wished them well, too.  Here is the thing: Snuggles y Cuddles are not marsupials, mainly because of the following:

1. They are not female.  (Their names, I know.  How could I name boys Snuggles y Cuddles?!?)

and

2. They do not have pouches in which they contain their offspring.

But I like the word marsupial and, frankly, I just do not have ample opportunity to use it in regular, daily conversation therefore the puppies have had to take one for the team lately.  Marsupials!

– — –

I talked to Aviean on the phone tonight and here is how her side of the conversation began: “Are you fweeling bwetter yet becwause I miss you.”  I told her that I am feeling better and that, as soon as I can, I can’t wait for her to be back at my house for a bit.  We discussed Snuggles y Cuddles, baby dolls and a little about Snuggles y Cuddles, too.  This is the longest I’ve gone in months without seeing her and my house is far too quiet and clean without that little girl running through it.

– — –

My inboxes today were so filled with love that I just about didn’t know what to do with myself.  I had lunch with a close friend today and I confessed to her that I am always torn about this blog because I’m very aware that, through it, I only give you a glimpse at who I am.  You see a few minutes from each of my days and, a lot of the time, you see the highlights, the good that is in me.  I don’t write about all my struggles publicly simply because that wouldn’t be appropriate; that’s why I have a diary.

I also express myself better in writing than I do in live conversation.  For some reason, it’s just easier for me to write it out — I’ve been like that since I’ve been a little girl.  And so, I write to you, people who I know and don’t know and you read it and sometimes I feel guilty because, blogging, it’s basically just talking about yourself.  And, for the love, do you not get tired of hearing about me?  I know you must; I sure do.

But I’m so glad you come here each night or each morning or whenever it is you come.

I’m so glad you do.

I just had to look on my phone to know whether it’s Tuesday night or Wednesday night because I thought it was Tuesday but then I started thinking that maybe it was Wednesday?

It’s Tuesday.

I had a rough night after I finished writing last night.  I’ve mentioned that I’m on seven prescriptions and part of them are steroids; well, the steroids kicked in last night.  I had vivid nightmares, thought people were in my house, etc.  It was a long night.

The doctor had my blood results back at today’s appointment and didn’t like information we got on my liver enzymes or iron levels, but both are going to be manageable.  We talked about the steroids and he told me to expect the nightmares and also “continued fragile emotions.”  We began talking about long-term plans to manage this and it was a pretty heavy conversation.  He said he expects that I will feel the effects of this for at least six months.  I can’t even begin to process that tonight.

– — –

I mentioned last night that I got a package in the mail that I couldn’t do justice to because I was too tired to write about it then.  I’ve been anxious to tell you all about it because I think this is the sweetest little story.

My favorite non-fiction author is Beth Moore and, a little over two weeks ago, she released a new book called So Long, Insecurity. I didn’t pre-order the book because I was hoping to go to one of her book signings (there were a few happening within a couple hundred miles of where I live) so that I could not only meet her, but have an actual book signed by her.  When it came down to the time of the signings, I couldn’t go — it just wasn’t working out with mine and Aviean’s schedule.

Little did I know that a blog reader, Christy, had taken it upon herself to go to one of the signings, buy me a book and ask Beth to autograph it for me.  Which she did.  WITH MY DOUBLE NAME ON IT.

That’s a live shot directly from my bed courtesy of my iPhone that happens to be next to me.

As fate would have it, my friend Cara had already placed an Amazon order of books to be sent to my house and you guessed it: a second copy of the book now resides in my house!  I’m excited to have two copies of it because I can already tell this will be one that is marked up and down each and every page.  In fact, in addition to participating in the mass study of it that will be facilitated through Beth’s blog over the next few weeks, I’ve also asked Cara if she and I can be “book partners” through it because there’s no one on this planet who knows more of my struggles with insecurity than that girl.  And, believe it or not, as I am writing this, my friend Katie just texted me to tell me she went and bought the book tonight so she and I can go through it together, too.

– — –

Writing that made me think of something that I’ve noticed over the past few months but haven’t written much about because I’m not sure how to do it properly.  It’s been about eight months since I officially made the change out of vocational ministry and, one of the biggest surprises that I have experienced is how many opportunities have presented themselves for me to… perhaps engage in some classic mid-twenties rebellion.  When I was in vocational ministry, I had a contract that I had signed that indicated certain things I wouldn’t do in light of the fact I was working in a very public ministerial role.  I upheld the contract.

Being without those guidelines in place these last few months has been very interesting experience.  I certainly didn’t go “wild” at any point, but on a few different occasions I’ve found myself in situations that I haven’t had to face before in my twenties.  Suddenly, for a girl who had made primarily good decisions for seven years, I was deliberately making bad decisions even though I knew better.

I certainly am not proud that I’ve been through that the last few months, but can I tell you a secret?  I feel like I identify so much more now with other girls in their twenties and I feel more “real” myself.  Not that long ago I sat down across from a girl near my age who I would have had very little in common with a year ago.  But now that I’ve been around that track — knowing what it feels like to make decisions that you know are not good — well, I felt like I got where she was at, what it felt like to sit on her side of the table.  For the first time, I can see why certain behaviors are tempting to my age group because, for the first time, I’m actually living in my age group.

And so, my prayer these past few months has been simple — “God, please parent me.”

I need Him to.  I so want to get these years right.

– — –

And now, bed.  But we’ll talk tomorrow night?  Of course we will.

Well, I’m sick.  I know I didn’t mention much about it last night, but I really just wanted to write about my heart and try to forget for awhile that I haven’t been feeling good.  My fever went up last night, back down today and now is going up again as I write this.  I decided to go ahead and write now before it gets too high tonight for me to do it.  I just want to warn you that I am extremely tired and emotional so, if I complain while I’m writing this, you’ll have to forgive me

I don’t know where the mono came from.  I haven’t been feeling well for a few weeks, but I chalked that up to side effects from a new medicine that I was taking (and am still taking).  I was tired a lot, but I thought that was just from having a four year old in my care quite a bit.  Last Monday morning, I told you that I woke up before my alarm and didn’t feel too great and didn’t have a good morning with Aviean.  By lunchtime that day, I was feeling pretty bad but I went ahead and went to the campus Dining Hall because I had a lunch appointment with a friend to study for a test we were having the next day in Advanced Grammar.

As I was walking to our table carrying a bowl of chicken noodle soup, my hands began shaking and I poured the bowl of soup down the front of my shirt.  I saw myself doing it but couldn’t stop it and, when it happened, I kept standing there, not really sure what to do.  I knew that something was wrong, but it was like I couldn’t figure out what my next move should be.  I remember that I went on over to our table, cleaned myself up, tried to have some soup and eventually headed back to my office.

I left work early, went home and got into bed.  About 30 minutes after getting into bed, I decided to drive myself to Urgent Care.  The doctor almost immediately diagnosed me with clinical flu but wanted to run some blood tests as well.  She came back within a few minutes to tell me I had tested positive for mono before leaving to run some further blood tests to rule out some other potential problems.

Since then, everything’s kind of been a blur.  My mom came into town several times and, at a follow-up appointment with my regular doctor, he decided that I needed to leave his office and go straight to our local hospital after having three nights of a 103 degree fever that just wasn’t breaking.  They were able to give me fluids and some very strong steriods and, within a few hours, my fever had broken.  Both of my parents were there at the hospital with me and were able to help me get some things settled at home to make me more comfortable here.  I felt pretty good Saturday night and then good last night, but within the last couple of hours tonight, things have started going downhill again.  My fever is going up, but I’ve taken another round of medicine and I’m praying with everything in me that it’s going to be manageable tonight.  I have seven prescriptions.

I don’t know how much you know about mono, but this is not going to be a quick thing.  The effects of it will be in my system for weeks, if not months according to the doctor.  I missed four days of work last week and will miss this entire week, if not more though I’ll try to work from home as I can.  I can’t really be around people because I’m contageous whenever I’ve had a fever within 24 hours so…

I’m about to cry now, just writing this much and I feel guilty for even admitting that because I don’t want to have a pity party for myself.  My doctor explained to me this past week that I was going to be really “emotionally fragile” with this because physical pain can cause mental reaction (especially with the steriods I’m on), but I wasn’t quite expecting this.  My muscles ache at night (typical mono symptom).  It’s really a painful thing that I can’t explain to anyone who hasn’t had mono before.  I could go to one of my parent’s homes, but I am afraid of risking making them or their spouses sick because I’m contagious.

Going to bed with it seems to be the worst, so before I do tonight, I’m going to tell you what I’m thankful for not because it’s some little neat bow to tie on this post but because I truly am grateful for these things tonight:

1. Cate, my darling cousin, is engaged as of last night and said I’m allowed to tell you all!  That means that I have cousins on both sides of my family — Marisa on my maternal side, Cate on my paternal side — who are engaged. My heart is so full for them that I think it could actually burst.  Two engagements.  Two. You just don’t know how full my heart is for them.  Two engagements, you all.  Think of how full my heart is going to be these next few months!

2. My little puppies haven’t left my side all day.  Those little puppies… there are no words for how I love them.

3. My friend Cara, a la Ecuador, sent me books from Amazon and, should I have enough concentration to read, I am set thanks to her precious little heart.  Do you know what it did for me to get a package in the mail?

4. Wait until I tell you about another package I got, too.  I’m too tired to do it justice tonight.

5. My darling Aviean is not sick (nor is she with me).  I miss her something awful, but I am profoundly grateful that she hasn’t shown even the slightest bit of sickness.  I miss her so bad that I can’t even think about it without getting tears in my eyes.

6. All day today I’ve been thinking about how grateful I am that, due to my not being married or having children, no one is directly suffering from my being sick.  Does that make sense?  I’m not letting down a husband, nor getting children sick.  If I’m going to have this, at least it’s only disrupting my life and not a bunch of other lives.

7. You.  Do you know how many of you have reached out to be through email, Facebook, etc?  You have so helped me not feel alone.  That might sound trite, but I mean every word of it.

8. It turns out that, when you don’t feel like eating for days, you lose weight.  Eight pounds in eight days (not healthy, but…).

9. Not only have the people from my job been completely understanding, but they actually miss me.  And, I miss them.  Profoundly grateful.

10. One of my college girls risked it (awful, I know) and came to see me today.  I could have cried at her feet I was so grateful to see her.

11. My doctor knows me well enough that he threatened to call my office to find out if I have gone into work before he’s released me to go back.  He’s been my doctor since my freshman year of college and knows my tricky little ways.

12. My best friend from middle school told me in a text tonight that she misses me and it meant so much to my little mono-heart.

Tomorrow: doctor’s appointment + Gatorade + maybe good news?  I hope so.

I love you.  Thank you for loving me.  The simplest way I know how to say it to you.

It’s Sunday evening and I’m laying on the couch with a puppy asleep on either side of me (Cuddles on my left, Snuggles on my right, not that you care, but of course I do).  I’m on bed rest as I work to fight off mono, but I’ll tell you more about that later, maybe tomorrow if I feel like writing.  Tonight I want to talk about the heart because, after all, it is Valentine’s Day.  I don’t want it to pass by without me.

– — –

I have mixed feelings about Valentine’s Day.  There’s a big part of me that thinks it’s simply a money-making holiday supplied by florists, card shops and jewelry stores.  And, as one of my friends mentioned to me earlier, for some people, this is the only holiday with the ability to make them feel singled out: the singles in the world.  Some singles don’t mind today; others will cry themselves to sleep tonight.

It’s so interesting that one holiday can bring out so many different emotions and reactions, isn’t it?

– — –

For the last couple of weeks, our local radio stations have been carrying an ad for a party that’s happening at a nearby club in honor of Valentine’s Day.  They’re calling it “Bitter Ball” and the idea is that people will bring their memorabilia from past lovers — cards, pictures, etc. — and put them in a giant shredding machine that will be inside the club.  In essence, they’ll “shred their ex” one memory at a time.

I haven’t dated a lot over the years.  There were those middle school / high school crushes that felt very real and then, in college, another two or three relationships scattered between mid-terms and final exams.  After I finished grad school, there were two relationships that came along (neither of which I blogged about during their duration) that I thought might actually have long-term potential; obviously, they didn’t.  I’m not being sarcastic; I’m just being matter-of-fact.  They just didn’t work out.

I’ve been thinking lately about how differently I feel about being in a relationship or even the fact that I’m not in a relationship.  Wanting to be with someone has been such a huge theme in my life for so long that it’s almost shocking to see how differently I feel about it now.  In the past, Valentine’s Days spent alone have been very long days, punctuated with the hope that maybe by the next Valentine’s Day, I wouldn’t be alone.

I vividly remember last Valentine’s Day, Cate and I getting dressed in her bedroom, fixing our hair in her bathroom.  We went contra dancing and we danced for hours. I wore a black dress, pinned my hair up and went to bed that night for the first time in a long time feeling okay about being single.  Of course, at the time there was a potential relationship looming in the distance, so I wasn’t too worried.  When you have options, you don’t worry too much about the future.

– — –

But what about when you don’t have any options left?  A few weeks ago, I felt the Lord gently ask me to begin cutting some ties that I had held onto from past relationships.  There were phone numbers that shouldn’t still be in my cell phone, letters that I didn’t need to save anymore.  I had kept emails — just in case, of course — and photographs, too.  There was — is — no chance of those relationships reconnecting (nor do I wish that there was).  But I had kept little pieces of each of them, maybe for reasons I didn’t even understand at the time.  I guess I just wanted them in case I forgot that I had been loved, that those times had happened.

Some items were easier to get rid of than others.  But evening after slow evening, they were eventually all gone.

– — –

I’m tired now.  It’s taken me almost three hours to write this much, which is probably the best indicator I can give as to how this mono has quite literally knocked me flat on my back physically and mentally.  I’m running a fever tonight, again.  So, instead of trying to type out everything else I wanted to say, let me just say this.

Earlier tonight, before I started writing this, I had tears in my eyes because I was thinking about how grateful I am that God knows. He knows exactly where I am right now, where I live, how badly my throat hurts tonight.  He knows that I want to be loved but He knows that I want Him more.  He knows who I’ve loved, how I’ve loved, when I will love again.

And somehow  — and I don’t quite know how He’s done it because it’s a miracle I thought might never happen — He’s made it okay that I’m not in a relationship.  Somewhere during the days and nights, some moment when I wasn’t even aware it was happening, it became okay.  It became okay to let go of that one’s letters, to take the other one’s number out my cell phone.  It became okay to say “I have nothing left to hold onto but You.”  It became okay that it’s Valentine’s night and I’m home alone tonight, that I am not someone’s valentine.  It just became okay.  It doesn’t mean I want to be single forever.  All I want now is to be what He wants right here, right now.  I want to be nothing more than what I’m supposed to be right now, not what I’ve been and not what I’ll be in the future.

It just became okay because He knows.  And because I am convinced that He loves me.

Now, for bed.  It’s my favorite place these days.