Autumn = Hot Cocoa

More than anything else for me, hot cocoa is the symbol of autumn.  Maybe because as a child I lived in Portland, Oregon, surrounded by evergreens that didn't turn color with the crisp autumn air.  More likely, it's because of Momma's special recipe.  Each autumn, Momma would get out her huge, industrial size mixing bowl, and stir together a batch of her wonderful hot cocoa mix.  The powdered ingredients would puff up into the air in great clouds, and the smell of cocoa and milk and sugar would fill the kitchen.

Then the great bowl of bliss would be divvied out into containers of all sizes, and they would be stacked on the pantry shelves, ready for autumn/winter escapes over a steaming mug.

The whole back-to-school thing is also an obvious harbinger of autumn for me, coming as I do from a family of teachers.  And I do love a new set of school supplies, probably unnaturally so.  :)  But after the school year started, and the excitement of the new teacher and new clothes and new classes had worn off, Momma would break out her mixing bowl, and there would be a delicious sense of hunkering down for the season, steaming cocoa in hand, surrounded by warmth, cocoa dust, and Momma's love.

I broke out my way-too-small mixing bowl yesterday with Little Man, after school.  The clouds of cocoa dust rose, we giggled and mixed, and tonight, we drink!!

Bits and Pieces

A few random thoughts of late, but I'll just share one per post.  First, last night was meant to be my first shift of the academic year in the library at college.  As a post-grad on a bursary, I have to give a 3-hour shift every other week.  I should say I get to do that, though, because I truly love it.  It harkens back to my job through seminary, at the circulation desk of the seminary library.  Quiet, peaceful, rarely an upset person in a library.  And it fed the OCD corner of my brain to spend an hour each night reading the shelf marks to make sure books are in order, and another hour straightening the shelves.  I know, I know, it's crazy of me.

And now, in another library, in another country, at another theological school, I get a dose every couple of weeks.  Silly as it seems, those are some of my most productive PhD moments, thinking through my research as I reshelve books in the calm of an autumn evening.  And I enjoy it so much sometimes, that I wonder if I've missed a turn somewhere?  Probably not, really, but given another life, I would become a librarian in a heartbeat.

What would you be if you could choose again?

Tears, and the Light of Morning

I can't say that I ever would have thought of Facebook as a means of grace.  But last night, I was totally overwhelmed by Little Man's situation.  I sat on our bed attending him with cuddles, rocking and singing, new dressings, cold cloths, etc., for almost an hour while he literally writhed in misery from the burning and itching of the blisters and spots.  The Benadryl wasn't strong enough, and the pharmacies were closed, and the doctors forgot to include the overnight-strength antihistamine on the prescription sheet.

After Little Man finally fell asleep, I succumbed to some tears.  I also succumbed to some venting on Facebook.  I then fell into an exhausted sleep, full of vivid and tense dreams.  My darling husband let me sleep late, and I woke feeling rested and actually a bit better about things.

Checking in on Facebook with my morning cuppa, I was immediately encouraged, and reminded of how much we are loved and cared for by God, through his people.  Friends and family far and wide had responded immediately.  Almost 20 messages of support, with prayers, love, and offers of help with everything from rides to the emergency room, to groceries and meals, to writing a prescription, poured in.

In the wee hours of the night, one can feel alone and extremely helpless.  When morning breaks, though, I realise again that God was right there with me, holding me with my husband's arms, and rocking Little Man in my own lap, and preparing my encouragement for the morning.  And I am blessed.

‎"The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases, 

his mercies never come to an end; 

they are new every morning." 

Lamentations 3:22-24

Frustration

A week ago today, we went in for the follow-up exam to hear about Little Man's biopsy and bloodwork results.  His skin was completely clear.  All over the body, free from spots and blisters.  No itching, no scratching.  All better.  We were given a follow-up appointment for three months away, and we went away smiling.  Hip, hip, hooray!

Today he's covered in spots and blisters, and in pain.  The spots have been creeping back in for several days, and yesterday Little Man's ankles erupted in blisters again.  A late-night call to the doctor, a visit to the derm clinic this morning, during which no less than FOUR doctors examined him, and still we're no closer to an answer.  The lab tests were inconclusive for Linear IGA, and now they think the blisters don't fit the profile for that condition.

Now they're wondering if he's having some extreme reaction to repeated bug bites.  BUG BITES?  For SIX months??!!  I just want to scream!  

The thing is, the docs he's seeing are experts in their field.  They're the ones training other doctors.  We're at a teaching hospital, and our case is being handled by the head of the dept. and another doc who's a specialist in pediatric dermatology.  So I'm not questioning their knowledge, their thoroughness, or the approach they're taking.  And I really appreciate that they haven't rushed to diagnosis and put him immediately on the drug therapy they initially planned, because it apparently has some side effects we'd like to avoid if possible.  And they've been very helpful in treating the symptoms and making Little Man comfortable.

But at the end of the day, it's very frustrating to not have answers.  So that's where I am today. 

Frustrated