Grateful

{picture courtesy of UptownCincinnati}

If I weren't already a cradle Catholic struggling for deeper faith, I'd probably fall down on my knees and worship at the Altar of the Stethoscope with this joint as my temple.

Tater and I made the thirty minute trek home up I-71 late, late last night (or early, early this morning; depends on how you classify those o'dark-thirty hours). After spending three days at Cincinnati Children's, he was released with a bunch of scripts, a follow-up appointment with his pediatrician tomorrow, and a very weary and grateful Mommy.

The little dude is doing ok; he's sleeping up in his own bed. I keep peering in at him, tip-toeing over to listen to him breathe, laying an ear on his chest to listen to his airways.

To all my bloggy friends and real life friends and family who have called, emailed, commented, or tweeted to share their prayers and offers of help, what more can I say than this:

I LOVE YOU ALL!

and, this:

THANK YOU SO MUCH!

I'll keep you posted on his progress. And if you've got your own little tatertot at home, hug him or her tightly tonight.

I know it's trite and cliched to say this, but it must be said: life is too precious and sometimes becomes far too precarious. None of us comes with a warranty or a guarantee. All I could think about over the last three days was how nothing mattered but this one life, this one soul, this one breath echoed by the beeps of the machines.

I'm as guilty as anyone for seeing the trees, not the forest. It sometimes feels like I'll never get past those thick branches that worry and needle me so; bills to pay and pay, clutter to pick up again and again, laundry that piles up before the dryer is even empty, and all the monotonous, stupid details of daily life that scream for and demand my immediate attention.

But the forest - oh, it's beautiful when I give myself a chance to step back and see it whole. It is life, my life in all of it's seasons, in it's fullness and breadth and scope. It is my life, filled three times over with the hopefulness that only a child's smile can offer.

Please, when you get overwhelmed by the trees closing in on you, blocking out light, close your eyes and see your forest.

See your life. Embrace it.

Love it.