It’s a story that lives on in Flowers family lore.
Molly was little—still young enough to sleep in a crib and take afternoon naps.
Our sweet girl usually woke up from her siestas quietly. She’s always been resourceful and imaginative, so there’s really no telling what all she did when we thought she was sleeping. Knowing her like we do now, it’s safe to assume she spent a significant amount of time playing around in her bed before she ever let us know she wanted to get up.
It was bound to happen sooner or later. My string of sickness-free years had to come to a close eventually. But who knew it would end with three different bugs in the space of a single month?
Not me, that’s for sure.
A few months ago, Molly asked Randy to make some color copies she needed for a language arts project.
My girl doesn’t talk much about her schoolwork, and this was the first we had heard about the assignment. It turns out that she and her classmates were researching social issues, and she had very innocently selected a topic that we felt she should learn about at home (rather than by Googling it herself at school).
I’m a writer and editor by trade, so it probably doesn’t come as a big surprise that I love words.
I get excited when I’m writing and a word that has been eluding me pops into my head, or when I’m revising something and the perfect replacement phrase just flows off my fingertips. But while I put a lot of thought into the words I use in paragraphs and sentences, when it comes to choosing a word for each new year, my approach is much more—um—arbitrary.
Emergency vehicles filled our street on New Year’s Day. We later learned that my neighbor’s father, who had been living with her for the last few months, had passed away unexpectedly. He had been doing well, she told me, and it was a shock.
The very next day, my own mom was admitted to the hospital for what was eventually diagnosed as a stroke. In the weeks before and after Christmas, family members from across the globe had come to town, and she’d spent hours laughing, talking and enjoying all seven of her children and many of her grandchildren.
This is not your typical week-before-Christmas blog post, but for me, this hasn’t been a typical Christmas season.
Don’t get me wrong. The last few weeks have definitely had their moments of peace, joy and merriment. But mixed in with all those moments have been periods of anxiety, stress and internal struggle unlike anything I’ve experienced for several years.
I have some ideas about the root causes of all this turmoil, but that’s not why I’m telling you this. I’m sharing this today because I have a sneaky suspicion I’m not the only one. When I say the struggle has been real for me lately, I’m guessing maybe some of you can relate.