Divinely Crafty

I am back from my month long visit to the Pacific Northwest in the US, which was highlighted by the wedding of my youngest brother.   It was filled with family,friends, and loads of fun.  Not much resting or relaxing went on but nonetheless it was rejuvenating. Now that I am back home I am looking forward to sorting through the hundreds of pictures I took, reliving the tales of our adventures and taking a nap.  Lots of naps as a matter of fact.

I did get some knitting accomplished during the last week of the trip. Before then it was just too busy and I was too fragmented to be able to give enough brain power to my project.  On the last day, on the trip up to Seattle where I was flying home from, we stopped at Shipwreck Beads (which proudly hails itself as the largest bead store in the country) and my mother generously bought me way more beads and tools than I had intended on getting.  I am now stocked up and ready to play.  Beading and making jewelry is a relatively new pursuit to me so I am looking forward to exploring what I can create.  Watch this space for what comes out of my dabbling.

I’m not quite ready to really start writing much so this is going to just be a short post.  My returning home routine seems to include taking a few days or weeks to settle back in before I am up for much in the lines of writing.  Much in the same way that it is difficult for me to write whilst on holiday (you will have noticed that my best intentions to write while away fell by the wayside) writing when I come home is a bit of a challenge.  Those first few days are spent reacquainting myself with the familiar surroundings of my home and everyday life with my eyes still in visitor mode. I even woke up the second night back and didn’t know where I was.  I wandered around the house trying to sort it out and at last I remembered that this was MY home, it is in England, and that my pillow was waiting on my bed for me to lie my head on it.  Having figured this out I returned to said bed and proceeded to sleep for many long hours, lost in the comfort that you can only get in your own bed.

Its good to be back home.

I do this every time. No matter where I am going or how long I am staying, during the time when travel is imminent I get an unstoppable urge to make stuff. I thought that I would get past it this time because I have just not been feeling up to doing too much sewing wise and normally it is a pre-trip sewing frenzie when I realize I have no travel clothes. I had already decided to do some *gasp* shopping when I got stateside since the exchange rate is well in our favor. (I am thrifty as well as crafty. ) Yes, I thought - this will be the trip where I just casually stroll over to my closet and effortlessly select a few simple items. I would relax before this trip.

It was with great amusement that I found myself making this yesterday. Because I needed it. Now.

I made it to go with this dress:

Which by itself is a great idea and it will look stunning. But when you consider that I have had the dress for 2 years (though it didn’t fit properly until recently since I have lost weight) and I have had the beads for nearly a year, the folly of it becomes apparent. It wasn’t until I was struck once more with a bout of pre-holiday making madness that made to order jewelry became an imperative. It is oddly reassuring that everything is right on track, and despite being far from where I had hoped to be physically for this trip my old habits and routines have survived in tact. I am thankful that I have creative outlets for diffusing stress and energy. I know I should probably be trying to be more still and reserving my energies for the upcoming journey, but truthfully I think if I were to try and sit still I would waste way more effort fighting the urge to be active than I would just surrendering to it.

The big blue beads were brought back last year by a friend from her summer in India. She gave me a beautiful silk bag filled with gorgeous glass and stone beads. The small pink and green beads were purchased on our trip to Barcelona last year. I love the idea that I took beads from other travels and used them to make something to wear in a time of traveling.

Tomorrow I am going to be doing some long over due showering of love to some of my most recent finds and favorites in the web world these days. I’ve made some great new discoveries, like Barb over at Craft Therapy, who is not only a fellow crafter but is after my heart with a blog by that name! She gave me an award last week and its my time to give some of my own out. So be sure to stop by tomorrow when I share some Divinely Crafty Finds!

As I type the title for this post I take pause. Can I really say that this has been “one of those weeks”? The implication is that this week has been somehow worse than other weeks. And while it has been a doozie, I’m not sure if it qualifies as particularly worse than most weeks. When I look back and take stock of the many weeks that have passed in recent months quite a few - most even - could qualify as “one of those weeks”. It sounds terrible when I admit this, but truth being good for the soul, I guess it’s liberating to be open about it. Maybe taking a look at this stark reality will lead to change that is desperately needed.

But yes - this week. What a week it was. Much of my time was spent at the hospital with my oldest daughter dealing with one heck of a nasty cut on the bottom of her foot. (Most of that time spent in horribly uncomfortable waiting room chairs. Seriously - I wouldn’t mind long waits if they didn’t hurt so dang badly. My poor fibromyalgia self was in agony. Plastic feel remarkably like concrete when it is under one’s tush for too long!) The cut as it turns out was not just a cut, but the doorway in which a large piece of wood gained entry into her foot. Say it with me - trying not to cringe too badly - OUCH!!!! I’ll spare you the play by play but the short version is 4 trips to the Minor Injuries Unit, 1 trip to x-ray, and 2 games of hardball with hospital staff (who refused to believe there was anything in her foot), way too much pain suffered on the part of my daughter, and finally last night after a round of local anesthesia and a few choice incisions - out comes a massive chunk of wood. Over 2 centimeters long and 1/2 centimeter wide! Nothing in her foot… yeah, right. There was at least one doctor and nurse in town feasting on a big old plate of crow last night. I’m happy to report that already today my daughter can walk on her foot with considerably less pain (given there is no longer a plank inside it) and we are all relieved that barring any unforeseen complications this episode can begin to be put behind us. Any thoughts for speedy healing of what is now just a nice big nasty cut that you could send her way would be welcome and appreciated.

Of course, as happens with us fibromites, all the stress and physical strain from the above ordeal has led to a very bad flare of my pain and fatigue as thick as it gets. My eldest summed it up quite nicely when she told me yesterday, “You look like road kill mom.” Only road kill has it easy. Road kill, I presume, is no longer feeling pain having departed this life. You know you have it bad when you envy road kill. yikes.

It’s times like these that make being a mom with a chronic illness really hard. Parenting on it’s own is a hard job. Its an exhausting job. Painful even with the mishaps brought on by rambunctious little ones, and painful in the sense that one can feel pain of the soul and emotions (and lets not forget the pain of birth!). But with a chronic illness those hard,exhausting and painful times have potential to turn into debilitating times. A few hard or stressful days can set you back for weeks. A few hard or stressful weeks can turn into months of setback. Which brings me back to the beginning of this post and my revelation that this week isn’t an isolated occurrence. With a chronic illness all weeks have potential to be “one of those weeks”. We operate from a different baseline, a normal that isn’t what others consider normal. All of my children have had to adjust their expectations according to how I am feeling. They are used to mom not being able to make it to school events, they are used to tip-toeing around the house when I am getting some much needed rest. They know that their home life is very different than that of their friends. Myy littlest, her eyes filled with concern and worry, knows when to ask if she hugged me too hard because she knows that on bad days even her gentle touch can hurt. Its not always easy on them, but they manage. We all manage it seems. Some days better than others. I think we managed fairly well this week, all things considered. In many ways it was better than last week which on the surface appeared to be an easier week, but that underneath was full or turmoil. Maybe that is what I meant when I gave this post its title. “One of those weeks” that despite all odds against it, we found our way through it. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad after all.

Serenity is the youngest daughter of a dear friend of mine. Like most other 2 year olds she runs her mother ragged but manages to fill her heart with love beyond measure. Unlike most other 2 years olds, Serenity was recently diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia.

There is no lack of appeals on the internet for help with raising funds for sick children. Its a sad fact of life that children do sometimes get sick with horrible life threatening illnesses, and an even sadder fact of life that the financial burden that comes with having a sick child adds untold amounts of distress to a family. I’m not in the habit of appealing for help in most of these cases, not out of lack of concern or charity, but because I would bankrupt myself if I contributed to every one and I am sure that most everyone else is in the same spot. And given the anonymity of the internet and the dark side of humankind who would abuse the good intentions of donors, there is always the risk that god forbid, a plea for donations might be a scam.

But to me, personally, because of my friendship with Serenity’s mother and the untold gifts and blessings that I have received by knowing her, this one I need to pass on to whoever might be able to help. While I am sure it pales in comparison to the devastation that Serenity’s family is experiencing, the news of this has shaken me to my core. I have donated every last bit I had to give, which I will admit is not very much. My own family struggles to make ends meet every day, large in part to my own health concerns. Yet,this is one of those times where I could sit back and in anyway justify withholding even the smallest amount I had available. If we can afford to go to the pub and have a few drinks one night, then we could afford to give at least that much to help Serenity’s family. We can still go out with our friends, but drink a glass of water instead, and feel better drinking that plain old beverage than we would from any other drink, knowing that our small sacrifice is going to help make a terrible situation the slightest bit easier to bear.

With this I ask that anyone who is reading this today also consider making a donation, even and amount that seems too small to matter. Truly, every bit counts.

You can read about Serenity and her family as they journey into life forever changed at Lifting Up Serenity.

On behalf of my friend, and all those who love Serenity, thank you.