The wind whispered through the pine almost imperceptibly. It was a comforting sound. As I walked along a game trail I had found that the peace I felt was palpable. When the wind really blows through the pines I have always found it haunting and I feel disquieted. Since the flooding season of 2022, my impression of the wind in the pines was not improved and anxiety is at the ready every time it really starts to blow. So, I find I greatly appreciate the quiet wind in the trees, cooling the heat of summer.
We have been at a full gallop these past couple of weeks, and the fatigue is pulling at the edges for all of us, even after restful nights of sleep. My parents move from Flagstaff to Camp Verde this next week, and we have been packing and moving much of their household into the barn of the new house this past week. It is a huge transition for them and it's hard to see the strain it is taking on each of them. I pray, almost constantly, for God to sustain them, give them Divine strength, and encourage them as they make this transition and start a new season of life in a new place.
In the moments when we are not traveling between Flagstaff and Camp Verde, we have been working on our underground greenhouse. I promise to write a detailed post at some point about that project, but this brief summary will have to suffice at present.
Lochlan is struggling. The protozoa have returned and he is throwing up every 21 days, for 24 hours. It takes such a toll on his already thin body. He has lost a lot of weight in the past 6 weeks, his cheeks are sallow and his demeanor is more grumpy. He has started to have #2 "accidents" in his pants, intentionally, rather than finding his way to an obliging commode. His favorite new adventure is to tie his pants waist band to a living room chair and then because he "can't get out" of the chair, he has "no choice". Yesterday, while we were working on the greenhouse he just went while standing right next to me. He's had 6 incidents in 7 days, so we're not on a good trajectory. It's incredibly stressful for all of us as we don't know how to prepare for it, how to prevent it, and often even how to respond. I find myself wary, trying to plan, predict and prepare. But, there is only so much you can do. He's 13 years old and it feels like we should be so far past this. I sigh. I cry.
Exasperation seems to be a firm ingredient in my diet of life. I know each of us has an ingredient we truly detest. My brain is tired. My body is tired. My heart is weary.
And yet... I pray for a miracle (or four), and I HOPE in spite of the fear of doing so. I'm counting my blessings, and I see the miraculous, the beautiful, the unbelievable in the details of life. When I start counting those blessings, I lose count, because it is an infinite number. Today, I woke up before the sun and I watched it slither up the horizon, bathing the top of the Peaks in a pink glow, and then cloaking them to the base with a warm blanket. I know we (desperately) need rain, but this Arizona girl is never unhappy to see that sunshine glow on the mountains around me.
