Broken fishing poles, shiny dreams and a sick young man.

Sometimes new things lose their luster sooner than we expect; faster than we hope.

I was six years old when my Daddy brought home a little Snoopy fishing pole. He placed it on a shelf and told me we would go fishing that very weekend. I couldn't wait. I stared up at that pole for what felt like hours. I needed to try it. I needed to hold it. I needed to see Snoopy up close.  And so I pulled it right down. And promptly broke my fishing pole right in two.  I still feel the weight of remorse.

Sweet Claire was only five when she picked the little pink bunny as a reward for bravery in her ear tube surgery. And it was only a couple of weeks later that "Rosie" fell out of the car and right in to a mud puddle while we were traveling. I scrubbed that little stuffed animal with hotel shampoo and blew her dry all in an effort to stop the tears streaming down my baby's face.

Tonight I am sitting beside Benjamin's bed in the children's hospital emergency room. It has been a long hard day.

 

The vomit-christening certainly lessened the luster of our new home. The fear for my hurting boy tainted my excitement for all things new.

And the fact that the first time I walked into my husband's new hospital was as a vomit-splattered-somewhat-frenzied-mama certainly tarnished my enthusiasm for this new place.

I wanted to run through the halls urging the staff to put their best foot forward so that our dreams for this new adventure would remain untarnished. But considering the fact that the first diagnostic test for Benjamin required us rolling right past the morgue, I am fairly sure that point would have been moot.

So yea, busted fishing poles don't work. But frenzied mamas sure do. And this ER staff most definitely has as they explored all the options to uncover the root of my son's pain.

And mud covered stuffed animals are gross. But memories of watching mom scrub your lovey with hotel shampoo are precious. (Rosie is still a cherished member of Claire's collection!)

And maybe just maybe losing luster isn't a bad thing. Maybe it means realizing that life in Mississippi won't be perfect. It won't be without hard stuff. And maybe that makes it less shiny, less perfect.

But maybe, it also just makes it real.

(We could sure use your prayers -- prelim reports look like Benjamin has a pretty big kidney stone.)