Inside Out

I looked down at Taylor's feet yesterday and realized that he had worn his Crocs on the wrong feet all day long.  They just looked so weird and ill-fitting.   I'm going to say, "Bless his heart" now.  Bless his heart; he didn't even notice.  Gulp.  I know. I know.  There are worse things to worry about.  But seeing those shoes so lopsided and on the wrong feet----pointing the wrong way---just struck me at a very delicate place on my insides.
       Taylor is facing major---bigger than major surgery a week from tomorrow.  That means, of course, that my whole family is facing major surgery along with him.  Right about now, my life feels like I am wearing my shoes on the wrong feet.  Nothing fits right.  Things are awkward.   My clothes are inside-out. Tags are showing.  Seams are ripped and visible.  Zippers are off their tracks.  Buttons are hanging by a thread----this is how my life appears from my own inner eye.
     Bless his heart----again.   Taylor thinks we are going to the beach next week.  He thinks he will be on a float in the Gulf.   Even with his very limited understanding and ability to comprehend, he picks up on my fear(s).  He senses that something is askew;  When Taylor wants to know more about what I'm talking about,  interestingly he asks, "Where?"  When he asks "Where?"  he wants more details about what's coming up.   And he persists, "Where?"    Where means, "Where are we going?  Who will be there? What movies will we take? Will we spend the night?"  Where means, can he get a hamburger?
      So, here's what I know.  My life is NOT normal.  Shock! I am actually not just coming to terms with this, although in all honesty, every single day, I get a new glimmer of how I must adjust. Seems like I would have  had it all figured out by now.  Nope---still grappling with what "should have been".
       Today on my walk what hit me as I was trying to figure out why I was so weepy.....what hit me is that I realized that in this life I have been given a gift---a very precious and rare gift.    Having been given Taylor, I have to be even more careful with my decisions and plans because I am taking care of two lives in essence----my own---and his.   That's a pretty daunting task I'd say.  Some days I can barely manage my own life, but I never get a reprieve from being asked to handle Taylor's life with absolute care.  Making the decision---on Taylor's behalf---to have the trauma of another surgery is almost too big a decision for a mother to make.  But I have.  And I am taking care of this precious gift of a son.  It's my job.    Pure and simple.   And it's hard.  But there are many hidden treasures in hiding along the way.  I'm not sure I'd notice them so readily if his shoes were on straight.  It really does force me to learn from my "double takes" to realize that that which is not perfect offers so many rich lessons and blessings.   If I'm willing to see them. 
      I am scared for myself----for Taylor.   But I have hope and faith and courage (well, my courage comes and goes.)  If you are reading this, would you please say Taylor's name on May 16 early in the morning? And then say it again as often as you can for the next 12 hours until I can hold his hand again.  My sweet gift.