"Raising the bar...

"...for just a playdate"
Said the new sister whitmore

I said no. This toll painting project was not for the playdate. It just so happened to occur while a friend came over.

I'm trying to be happy. I want to be happy more. I wanted to be happy by enjoying emilys company. I am happy when ILM with her in a non-chore moment. Emily wanted to be happy by sharing it with her friend.


I didn't do this for a playdate. I was following the old sister Whitmores advice. I wish I would have used her great wording but its something like this....

Figure out what makes you happy. Figure out what you would do if you had a good day, a good week even. Don't wait for a good day to come along. Do it now. Do those things now, because you're going to be hurting regardless.

Have fun with whatever it is. Plan it in pieces, so the preparing for it doesn't wreck your health. Bad days come regardless of your care. So you might as well have a bad day because of fun.

So plan it. Then do it. Enjoy it. As people see you happy and active, don't be shy to tell them!!!! Tell them how you didn't do this because you were feeling better. Tell them how having fun makes you happy. Most important, tell them that you will pay. You will be in pain, in bed in exchange for those moments of happiness.

Of course you really can't tell them all that. Its not friendly and they won't get it. But when they say you must be having a good spell, honestly tell them you're not. But having this party (or whatever) will be worth it when it sends you to bed for the next week.

Something short and sweet.

I miss the advice Deb whitmore gave me. I wish she was here to help me trust again. To trust old friends, family, the church, and God. Losing that trust is a lonely, sad thing. Grant says perhaps my friends helped too much and I leaned on them too much for faith and testimony. that's what trust is anyway. I can see his view, but I can't say I feel it.

Now I'm hit so low that I can't grasp how I can trust again. And I don't have my own testimony structure to hold me up.

I think it will take a decade to sort out this post illness time. Emily will be 18 by then. Even if she is too cool for painting, I hope we have something we often do together for fun. Even if she wants a friend to join. Of course, friend or not, we have thousands of days until then. And right now is now. And now is a gold wooden mirror, two gingerbread girls, and a flower in a pot.

Boy did I hurt alot the next day. It didn't hurt bad enough to forget that But painting with Emily makes me happy. So we picked a project. We are happy. And as I lay awake in (too) early hours with pain, I knew it was worth it. The joy in her voice as we worked side by side makes it a fair trade.



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