Worries

The best place to be during a tropical storm is the beach.
The restaurants are quiet, the bike paths are open, the sand is untouched, and the neighborhood pool is private. With Matt's mechanic genius, we were able to convert an abandoned and rusted beach- cruising bike into an operable ride for my sis. We hooked up the trailer to my bike for Corbin to ride in and the whole family hit the bike path along 30A here at the Gulf of Mexico. The rain was pelting us and it felt so rebellious to be riding a bike as my cotton capri pants were consequently becoming see-through cheese cloth. We pulled off into the parking lot of a state park and rode all the way to the end of a boardwalk that was clearly marked for pedestrians only, but again, it's storming. There are no park rangers are out to hassle us. We had the most majestic view of the sand dunes gently rolling from the boardwalk's beginning out to the gulf. These are Florida's "mountains."

We have been breaking all of convention's rules and Corbin totally deserves it. He is about to endure another surgery (poor baby) and has been such a compliant three-year-old with antibiotics thrice daily since July. Yesterday we let him swim in the pool while it was raining and wind was blowing leaves into the pool. He kept yelling, "this is SO fun, Mommy!" The motto of this little pit stop on the way across the country AGAIN is: "give our worries away." I have been praying and trying to hand them over to God, but they just keep creeping into my mind. I look at Corbin's pink,raw, puffy ear and want to scream at the unfairness of it all. But, of course, that doesn't help us. My sweet sister gave me a small box of Guatemalan worry dolls. Tonight I gave each one a single worry to dwell on, and I put them under my pillow. Supposedly by tomorrow morning my worries will be gone ;)
I also wrote the worries in the wet packed sand. I drew a picture of an ear on the smooth sand and wrote "Ear Peace Please?!" I hope the phrase gets washed out to sea and drifts forever out of my heart. I love Corbin like I never thought imaginable. There are so many moms who can relate. The connection to your child is fierce. When a child is forced to undergo painful surgeries and long recoveries, the mother's heart breaks. That's where I am. I'm not defeated. I'm wounded. We have one more day of beach fun. We could have seen this weather as a metaphor for this past year- a threatening black cloud. But we have chosen to play in the rain. We will revel in it one more day and then put on our armor for this next surgery. Corbin's implant will come out, the doctor will sterilize it and make a new implant mold. He will inject antibiotics into the tissue, replace the implant, and sew Corbin up again. Corbin will be tender and will have to start the healing process again. I will cry. Matt will remain steely-faced and strong. We will silently be dying inside until we see signs of improvement in our son. And then, somehow, on the other side, we will grow.