He's My Best Friend

When tucking Eli into bed tonight, we said the usual "Now I lay me down to sleep" prayer.  Then, I asked him if he had any other special prayers.  He said, "Yeah....Dear Jesus, my Jacob broke his legs.  He's my best friend.  Please help him get his legs better.  Help him walk.  Amen."

Simple words from such a deep little heart.

A calmer Eli has emerged in the 19 days since we've been back. Maybe it's because all five of us have been under the same roof morning, noon and night for each one of these days. Everything that makes him feel secure is right here with no threat of leaving. Or, maybe it's because the Christmas season has captured his imagination, fascination and attention just like I knew it would. Or, maybe it's because he is taking his role of caretaker very seriously. You couldn't give this little guy a bigger job than asking him to help push bubba's wheelchair or sit in the bed and play Legos or Mario Kart with him. 

Togetherness.

All 5 under one roof.

The Christmas season all around us.

Caring for his best friend.

The highest term of endearment that Eli understands is "best friends".  Some of his best friends are real and some are animated, but, the fact is:  if you're one of them, you are pretty special to him.  He protects and loves all his best friends with every inch of his 3 year old self.  When we told him about Jacob's legs, he asked if he could give Jacob some medicine to make him feel better. I said, "No, baby, but you can pray for Jacob."  He has prayed this very prayer night after night since then.  At least once a day, he'll ask, "Are Jacob's legs fixed?  Are his legs working?"  I always reply, "No, baby, but they're getting better." 

What a faithful brother, faithful best friend, he has proven to be.  Oh, the lessons I can learn from him.  I am a sister to 3, sister-in-law to 8 and a best friend to 2 but yet I don't practice that same commitment in praying for these people whom I am closest to.  If only my heart could be like his.

(I should add that, yes, even with two broken legs, Jacob still likes to sit Indian style. 

 And, yes, it drives us crazy!  The doctor said it was okay so what can we say??)

Eli Unscripted

Mommy:  Where is Jesus?
Eli:  The North Pole
Mommy:  No, silly.  Where does Jesus live?
Eli:  Tennessee
Mommy:  Where at in Tennessee?
Eli:  In my house
Mommy:  Where at in your house?
Eli:  In my room
Mommy:  Does he live in your heart?
Eli:  Yeah

OPERATION

When I dropped Eli off at school the other day, his teacher told me that they were making Christmas Wish Lists by cutting pictures of the toys that the kids want for Christmas out of toy catalogs.  I laughed and thought to myself how Eli's page was sure to be a mosaic of every toy imaginable.

When he got home, I was very surprised to open up the supersized piece of construction paper to find not 25 different items like I'd imagined but, instead, only 3 little images gluesticked to the paper.  Each one was a surprise to me at first, since he's never mentioned any of the three.  But, after a second glance, they all made perfect sense.

Eli's Christmas Wish List

1.  Angry Birds - not because he really understands a thing about those birds but because his bubba is crazy over them.  That alone makes them tops in Eli's book.

2.  Monopoly - this is what we call the "grown up game".  He's gotten it out of the game closet many times and asked, "Mommy, peas play a game with me?"  I always say, "Eli, that's a grown up game.  Let's pick another one."  I'm not sure if this wish list selection signifies his desire to be a big boy, his desire to play a game with mommy or a little of both.

3.  Operation - {melt my heart} he knows his bubba broke his legs, was in the hospital and now has to stay in the bed.  Knowing the hero status that he places on his bubba, I think this is his little way of showing his concern.


After showing Jason the list and laughing over it, I went to the game closet and pulled out, not Monopoly, but Operation instead.  A benefit of being a little brother means that big brother already has most of the toys you'll ever want.  Not knowing we already had this game, Eli gets wide-eyed, lets out a little giggle and whispers, "Operation!"

We take turns trying to fish those little pieces out and Eli erupts into giggles every time I get startled after touching the side.  When it's his turn, he says that it 'cares him and says, "Mommy, you do it for me?" 

Never wanting to miss a good photo op, I pull out my camera and snap away as he finally works up the courage to operate.  With the nose lit up, the game vibrating and the little pieces rattling the entire time, he starts to fish out parts all by himself.  And, you can see from the pictures that he wasn't 'cared a bit!

This is what I'd hoped recovery would look like.  It's not always this quaint but it is allowing us moments of togetherness just like this one that we normally don't make enough time for.  Such a blessing.

We just happened to have this Operation shirt. Eli had picked it out for his daddy

to wear to his circus birthday party because he says, "It have a clown nose." 

Jacob declared that the winner got to wear it.  Of course, it was after he'd already won :)

Update

I just wanted to write a quick post to update everyone on the events of today. Let me first say that I have been BLOWN away by all the personal emails and comments that I have gotten over the course of the past few weeks.  Friends that I haven't seen in over 10 years reaching out just to let me know they're praying...simply blows me away. 

So, back to today...  It was as completely un-newsworthy as we'd hoped it would be.  Going into today, we knew it would go one of two different ways.  Dr. Gillis would either see scarred and damaged intestines which are obvious signs of celiac or she would see perfectly pink ones.  She saw the pink ones :)  This does not mean that there is no celiac disease, just that if there is, the damage is still microscopic and will have to be assessed under a microscope.  In her experience, she said it is very uncommon for her to see any evidence of celiac in a patient as young as Eli.

We will have to wait a week before the labs come back, which is nothing compared to the time since the word "celiac" first walked through our door back in the spring.  One thing I hadn't mentioned yet is that she had requested that we bring Jacob with us.  Celiac disease has a STRONG genetic component.  It is inherited from a parent, and, siblings have around a 30% chance of being celiacs as well.  While Jacob's bloodwork was not as alarming as Eli's, it is still questionable.  So, that, plus his short stature (20th percentile) along with Eli's blood results/symptoms raised some red flags.  After lunch, she met us in her office for 45 minutes as she examined Jacob and asked lots of questions.  She has worked it into her schedule to tag team with his pediatric orthopedic doctor next week during his surgery and will go in and do both an upper GI scope and a lower GI scope before his hip surgery.  Bless his heart!  The poor boy will be put through the ringer.  Also, she will deliver the results of Eli's labs to us at that time.  I think I'm safe in assuming that this hour will prove to be the one in which our little roller coaster car will have reached the peak and, in a blur and with a big WHOOOSH, it will come back down.

11-11-11

Does Eli have celiac?  To the naked eye, no.  To the lens of a high, powered microscope, possibly.  Our eyes are not designed to see the invisible but it doesn't mean it's not there.  I'm not going to pretend like I know what the plans that the Lord has for us are.  I often remind myself of something my mom said to me years ago during another time of uncertainty in my life, "Becky, the Lord has never failed to order every single one of your steps." 

I wish I could squint really hard and try to catch a glimpse at the darken path that lies ahead so that I can "be ready" for it.  But, there comes a time when I have to realize that my eyes, like Dr. Gillis' eyes, are not created with the ability to see the unseen, no matter how hard we try.  Only when the Lord chooses to illuminate what cannot be seen by our power alone, can we see the next step that He has marked for us.

We walk by faith, not by sight.

There is no room for fear.

I am getting tested today.  The results should  be back next Friday, 11-11-11...big day BUT an even bigger God.

Click, Click, Click...

Picture this:  You're at an amusement park and there in front of you lies the mammoth, fear-provoking wooden roller coaster.  The sight of it alone produces great anxiety within you.  After assessing the risk vs the reward, you decide to go for it.  Once you've made that decision, the fear somewhat dissipates as you wait in line.  The fear bubbles up again once you realize that there's only 2 or 3 people ahead of you and your turn is almost up.  Once you get into your seat, you tighten the seatbelt so tight that you can hardly breathe.  Then, you pull the harness down, exhaling in hope that it might go down another half inch.  Last, and all that you are really able to do at this point, you look over nervously to your partner, put on a fake smile and say, "Are you ready for this?"  The look on his face says it all.  There is no more room left in that tiny car for bravado so he doesn't even pretend to have it all together, and neither do you.

You start down the tracks with a white face and a death grip.  But, a strange sensation always seems to happen.  The fears that threatened to suffocate just seconds ago give way to the burst of light that comes once you're outside the loading station.  The elevated view, the breeze and the warm sunshine make you think, "Hmmm, this isn't so bad after all."  So, you loosen your grip and relax a bit. 


BUT, then it happens... 


What seemed like a fun, mildly thrilling ride all ends when you hear the click, click, click, indicating that you are now making the ascension to meet Goliath.  This sloooow climb takes you higher and higher. 

Click, click, click. 

You are reaching a point that is making you a bit too uncomfortable. 

Click, click, click. 

Your climb is slow enough that you can look over and see stairs running alongside the tracks.  Stairs??  Why in the world would there be stairs?  You're only a million feet up in the air.  Who in there right mind would climb those? 

Click, click, click. 

Your stomach is in knots.  You realize that there is no way out.  It is inevitable.  This thrill ride is not so thrilling anymore.  Up ahead is a 20 story drop and 2 loop the loops.  All you can do, since you can barely even breathe, is pray.

Tonight, I laid down next to Eli until he feel asleep.  He was curled up next to me, holding my hand and I started to think about what's to come in less than two days.  With each thought, I felt my stomach going, "Click, click, click."  The long climb that we have been on is nearing the tiptop.  Jason and I have waited and waited, buckled up, uneasily looked at one another with fake smiles on our faces, and found courage in knowing we're in this together.  I can't speak for him, but I know there have been many moments when I have wanted off this ride.  I've begged the Lord so.many.times to let me out of the car  and allow me to take the stairs.  But, ever the Good Shepherd that He is, His answer is always a big N-O.  The climb has been so looooong.  But, here we now sit, white-knuckled, less than two clicks away. 

No turning back. 

We will find out soon whether or not he has celiac disease.  I have so many emotions tied up in this child and this possible diagnosis that I can't even begin to type them all out in an eloquent way so I won't.  Like all the hairs on my head, the Lord knows them all and that's all that matters.  All I will say is that my sole desire for this sweet boy, who is so full of life, is to be able to enjoy it to the fullest for once.

After Eli was asleep, Jacob sweetly asked me to snuggle with him.  Oh my...my heart breaks within me to know that I only have 9 more days to do that.  How could I ever refuse?  So, we lie there and my stomach is going, "Click, click, click".  The anxiety almost seems like too much to bear.  We talk about his surgery and I ask if he's scared.  He tells me no but that he's worried about what will happen if he sleepwalks?  I want to both laugh and cry.  Laugh because he is so innocent and cry because he is so innocent.  He is so trusting in us and the decision that we made for him.  Once again, those doubts creep up.  Anxiety is great within me and I would love nothing more than to be on that set of stairs and leave this all behind.  However, the stairs do not bring any more security than where we are currently sitting.  In fact, there is much greater risk in taking the stairs.

I hear him breathing heavy so I know he's asleep.  When I get up, I take another look at him and the sight of him says it all, "Do not take the stairs.  Breathe."  In his relaxed unconsciousness, his legs have flopped over in such a way that would make the average person scream in pain.  As terrifying as it may be, I KNOW we are to stay strapped in and remain on this ride.

Make straight paths. 

Click, click, click...

I long to be pulling safely back into the loading station, coming to a complete stop, climbing out of the car and taking a full breath.  I long to be able to look at Jason and know that we have gotten through it and everybody came out okay.  But, we're not there yet.  The clicking of the car making the climb signals that the ride is still in motion and there is nothing left to do but pray.  Because we can barely breathe, sometimes even praying is difficult.  That is why I find so much comfort in knowing that it is not just Jason and I on the ride but, rather, there is car after car of friends and family, praying for protection on our behalf.  You have NO IDEA how much this means to us.  We don't need homemade meals or free baby-sitting (although we'd never refuse those either, lol).  We simply need your prayers.

As the clock clicks down for Eli's biopsy to

November 3 at 8am

and for Jacob's surgery and biopsy to

November 11 (11-11-11) at 6am

please remember us as you petition the Lord.  There is no greater gift you could give to us than your time spent on your knees.

May the fruit of your prayers result in this: 

Notice that everyone is holding on but my two boys.  Complete and utter fullness of life.

Unscripted

One day while playing kitchen, I started to wonder if Eli knows his last name so I ask him:

Mommy:  "What's your name?
Eli:  "E-I"
Mommy:  "Can you say, Eli Smith?"
Eli:  "E-I Smiff"
Mommy:  "What's baby's name?"
Eli:  "Micah"
Mommy:  "That's right.  Her name is Micah Smith"
Eli:  "Micah Smiff"
Mommy:  "What's mommy's name?"
Eli:  "Princess"

Who Built the Ark?

Mommy:  "Eli, can you tell me who built the ark?"

Eli:  "PAPA!"

Mommy:  "No, not papa although he builds lots of things.  Tell me who built the ark."

Eli:  "YODA!"

Mommy:  (not quite sure what to say)  "Umm, not Yoda, silly.  Who built the ark with the animals?"

Eli:  "NOAH!"

I guess 3 times is a charm

My Sweet E-I

Because Jacob was significantly speech delayed as a toddler, I'm not used to having a conversation with a child under the age of 4.  So, it blew my mind and tickled me to death to hear Eli (not yet 3) talking to me about his day after he returned from riding with his daddy to visit his grandfather ("Pops") in the hospital today.

Our conversation went something like this:

Me: "Did you have a good time today, Eli?"
Eli: "Go see Pops.  Pops at doctors."
Me:  "Really??  What else did you do?"
Eli:  "Throw rocks.  I pet dogs."
Me:  "What did you eat?"
Eli:  "I eat Chinese.  Man cook E-I's food.  Man cook E-I's noodles.  E-I eat cookie."  (Jason explained that they watched the cook prepare their food).

I will pause to point out 3 distinct characteristics of Eli's speech....he talks about himself in third person A LOT.  He says, "E-I (for Eli) do this," or "E-I don't like time-out...."  We call it Eli's Elmo talk.  Another thing, he adds an "s" onto the end of nearly EVERY word.  Everything is plural for some odd reason.  Last, he has the sweetest raspy or somewhat hoarse voice.  Whatever it is, it is 100% Eli and I can never get enough of hearing it.

Here's the rest of our conversation:

Me:  "Daddy said you were a good boy.  I'm so proud of you."
Eli:  "Grandma like E-I's Titans jersey.  Jacob Titans jersey, too." (They both wore Titans jerseys)
Me:  "What was your favorite thing you did today?"
Eli:  "I push Pops."
Me:  Thinking that maybe he wrestled with Pops, I turned to Jason and said, "Did he really push  Pops?"
Jason:  "Yeah, he pushed him in his wheelchair."

{Insert mommy's heart melting}

My sweet, sweet E-I...so many things you could've named as your favorite on this big day you shared with just the boys...your first taste of Chinese food, dressing like your brother (which THRILLS you), throwing rocks in a parking lot (which THRILLS any boy) or petting dogs.  But, you said it was pushing your Pops in his wheelchair.  What a reflection of your sweet little heart.  I'm sure seeing you and the sunshine that you brought into the room was Pops' favorite thing today, too.