Little Signs.

Not sure if when I mentioned earlier to you all about "little signs", and what they mean to me-

Let me back up a little to yesterday. 

Yesterday when I had eyes that filled too easy with tears.

A mind that wandered to places it shouldn't have. 

A soul that was breaking on my way home last night. 

A spirit that was scared. 

When I arrived home last night from work, I did what I always do.  Take my shoes off.

Open or close windows and doors based on what is needed.  I began to pray.

One of the things I've mentioned is my guide through this with religion.  Or prayer.

If I back up a little to tell you some about me, if you haven't already figured out....I was raised as a little hippy child.  With parents that taught us to "be kind" and "be good to animals" and to just be a good soul. 

Religion sprinkled on top of my head at times through friends, or family.  I even took a Catholicism class when Kris was 4, because I wanted him to attend catholic school.  More so, to keep him safe and with "a good group of kids"-  

Financially that didn't pan out, and he did quite well in regular school, and so my religion antics went to the way side.  

Still going through life like I had a grip on the horns.  Moving through storms with my family.  And sometimes without.  I have always been incredibly strong.  Like super strong.  And not one to take shit from anyone. 

Until this happened. 

And I had nothing left in me but a daughter curled up next to me on the night of August 19- at 1am, crying and staring at her, asking "why"-  To soon ask her to sleep in my room and bed with me because I was so scared.  Talk about flipping the fucking table around. 

 I began to pray.  

I prayed and I prayed.  

I asked for signs.  I never understood, and still don't---- what praying to Jesus, or God, or Lord meant.  

I began to read. 

But first.  I asked for little signs. 

First and foremost, I asked to get through this.  

Something I still don't understand is how I have. Like really....HOW have I made it this far?!

And will continue to.  I have lost many days and hours through this journey with adrenaline.  Mama Warrior mode, if you will. 

I never had the chance to become angry with God, Jesus or the Lord, because I hadn't had a relationship.  Unlike others I've read about that are very close to God, and have lost a child.  Or have walked straight into the eyes of Cancer, and are angry. 

I am angry. 

I am scared. 

But I have asked for signs. 

Yesterday was a horrible day for Kris.  So much so, he sent me a message last night that kept me awake. 

It was one of the hardest.  

When a body is recovering from this process, and certain meds are eliminated it makes for a body to become so out of sync.  Fighting each minute and hour to just eat.  

Even a spoonful. Or half a banana.   Prednisone, you were a miracle worker that's for sure. Something so bad could make you feel so good.

After reading that text I crawled back into bed, into my rollie pollie position with 30 pillows, and I began to pray.  

Praying to please show me signs.  To please have mercy on my boy.  To ease this transition.  To help him.

Please God.  Help him.  

I have severe anxiety right now, but I pray it will ease.  You know, the part on the rollercoaster when you are free falling and if you hate rollercoasters like me, you're screaming or stone quiet because you just want this part to be over. 

That. 

This morning, he finally replied to my text.  Stating that he wasn't hungry but he'd eat what I made. 

He ate it.  

He said today is a little better than yesterday.

One family member of Bill's showed up today.  Dena.  And so we sat and chatted.

An hour later, Vicki (Bill's sister) stopped by.  Carrying a tropical plant. 

Most important, it's the little signs.  

To me, it's a sign. 

And by a "sign", it's not the material.  It's the presence of another soul.

Soul to soul, sharing a hug.  A re-affirming smile.  

Do you feel what I'm saying here...? Little signs.  Vicki never just stops by. 

Carrying a tropical plant.  

I see this as a sign. 

I see this as a little blankie over my shoulders.

That every thing is gonna be okay.  That our army of love and family behind us mean more to me than the panic of that rollercoaster.  People assure and believe in this and us.  That this will pass. 

Love.  

In all forms. 

More signs, I see on the daily.  No reason to share and try to convince you of having FAITH.

Praying. 

Trust me when I say.....prayer works.  

Not that my nights and early mornings are changing.  Because I will forever be changed.  I will forever worry. 

I will forever be a different mama.  A different Lisa.  A different friend, and girl.  A different daughter.  A different lover. 

But I will pray.

Love.  Keep loving you guys.  

To my friends that held me close, even through a text.  Or understanding my absence.  Thank you. 

This ride isn't fun.  And I want off.  

Big love, and lots of love to you all.  What a pretty day....

I am grateful for sunshine.  And one day closer to my boy being free from this ordeal. 

Now, If I could just knock the F word out of my favorite vocabulary- Man, I love that word.  

Happy Birthday Bucksie Boy!  Big 7!

That little fur butter ball has given us so much love and lots of laughter....Can't wait to spank his little butt tonight, guess he got into the bathroom trash today.....shark week hunter!  Jerk ball.....

Cheers!

This Mama Lisa