Chandra's Journal
December 29, 2006
I’m finally sitting down, determined to write a journal entry before I start anything else. We’re wrapping up a busy day in Austin with my family and in the background I am listening to Canon yelling from his bed – everything from VeggieTales silly songs to conversations with nobody (“Walmart? I don’t want to go to Walmart! Home Depot? I don’t want to go to Home Depot!”) So… forgive me if I seem a little distracted tonight.
I wish I could put clips of Canon singing Christmas songs on the website! He sings every word of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Jingle Bells, and We Wish You a Merry Christmas. I never thought Christmas would ever be as much fun again as it was when I was little, but seeing Canon and Creed’s faces light up with holiday spirit takes the cake. I already am so excited about getting to watch them next Christmas!
Canon has been healthy since the incident that landed us in the hospital a few weeks ago. Weird deal. But, the Prograf level finally returned to “acceptable” and we were allowed to go home. He is still on ½ of what his dose was previous to the virus. We checked levels again a week ago and everything still looks good. Thank God.
We’ve had a family-filled, travel-heavy holiday… and it’s been wonderful! Just like the holidays that I remember growing up – tons of hugging, delicious food, late nights, pallets on the floor – the whole nine yards. With both of our families out of town, I really try to talk about our family a lot and make sure that Canon and Creed spend as much quality time with them as possible. Canon is beginning to understand the concept of ‘family’ and that everybody needs a family. One of his new favorite dinnertime rituals is to ask me and Drew, “What is your name?” We tell him our whole names, and then ask him his name and who is in his family. When you ask him what Daddy’s name is, he’ll answer “Drew Perkins”; but if you ask him who is in his family, he’ll say “Canon Perkins, Creed Perkins, Mommy Perkins, and Daddy Perkins!” The holidays were a wonderful time to really teach him that Jesus was a baby and that he had a Mommy and Daddy, too. Recently I pointed out to him a nativity scene somewhere and asked him “Who is that?” He pointed excitedly and answered, “Baby Jesus! And Mommy Jesus and Daddy Jesus!”
Hand in hand with the holiday season (at least in Amarillo) comes unpredictable winter weather. Last week the meteorologists started warning everybody about an ice storm two days before it hit – the whole city was buckling down the hatches… so to speak. Grocery stores were packed in anticipation that the town would be more or less shut down. Well, the town didn’t shut down, and we didn’t get any days off of school, unfortunately. But it came with a vengeance and it was amazing. Ice storms are deceptively innocent-looking because when the rain comes down, it’s just that – rain. A little drizzle on a bitterly cold day. But then the temperature keeps dropping and dropping and the drizzle keeps coming and what was a cold, puddly parking lot when it started becomes a virtual ice rink in a matter of hours. My little first graders and I held hands in a long train when we walked outside for dismissal that afternoon. We looked like Bambi and Thumper out there on the ice. But by far the most breath-taking sight was the effect of the ice on the trees. After a night of more freezing rain and snow, the next day greeted us with the most amazing winter scenery. The trees were covered in a thick coating of ice and appeared like crystal chandeliers strategically placed throughout the city. It reminded me of the kids at school that raise their hands as soon as they see me take out supplies for an art project, ready to ask if we can put glitter on it when we finish. Maybe that happens in Heaven, too. All the school-age kids gather around to see what colors God will use to paint the sky on special sunset-project nights. As our school-age kids look forward every year to making cotton-ball Santa beards and cutting intricate snowflakes, the heavenly children are at the feet of God asking him “Are You gonna’ make snow tonight?... “Is it time for the snow yet?... “Can You put some glitter on it?” Well, that day God said yes. And it was beautiful.
But, like a lot of things of this earth, it carried the potential for damage. As the hours wore on, the trees became weaker and weaker from the weight of the ice. As we drove around (VERY SLOWLY) with the windows down so the boys could see better, we could hear occasional snaps that interrupted the unique silence of snow cover. When we saw one happen closer to us, I realized it was the sound of branches breaking. Before I went to school that day, I noticed a few broken limbs scattered around, nothing obtrusive. But when I left school, the number of branches that had broken in those five hours was startling. I saw huge limbs blocking front doors and limbs blocking lanes of traffic in the neighborhoods. In our own front yard, one of our young oaks’ little trunk was bent over completely under the weight. We left town that day and Drew and I have both had some worried thoughts about our little tree. Did it finally break? Or was it able to stick it out until the sun melted the ice off and it could stretch back to its full height? While we were in Abilene I heard a country song on the radio that I hadn’t heard in years. “Like a tree out in the backyard, that’s never been broken by the wind. Our love will last forever if it’s strong enough to bend.” I thought of our little tree in Amarillo. And I wondered what gives some trees enough strength to weather potentially deadly elements. Just like people. Under the same ice storm, some trees made it and some trees didn’t. If I were a tree, what would I look like? I feel certain that I’ve got some great roots that grow very deep and that my trunk is not broken. But I also know for a fact that I’ve lost branches along the way – when I said something hurtful to a friend or when I was too sensitive about what a friend said to me and I stopped trusting them. SNAP. When I fail to discipline Canon or Creed effectively because of my undercurrent of fear that I’m going to lose them… SNAP. When I overlook Drew and fail to appreciate his role in our family because of my obsession with raising the boys… SNAP. Eventually the ice that at times coats my soul will melt. The wind will shift and God will deliver me; He has a hundred times. My prayer is that I will remember the strength of the Lord the next time that I think the ice is too heavy and I want to give up on God. And also that I don’t wrongly call it “my” strength. 1 Corinthians 1:25 says “For the foolishness of God is wiser than man’s wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man’s strength.” I also pray for those who feel broken under the pressure of circumstances. Because God can replant and restore life to even those who feel pulled up by their roots. “And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” 1 Peter 5:10.
I’ve been so encouraged by the emails that I trade with Jordan’s mom. When I think of people whose lives have been stabbed by situations that could take the breath out of a person’s soul permanently, they are one of the families that come to mind. Major limbs have fallen and the trunk of that family has been bent to the ground, but each time I hear from her, I feel the roots of their family digging in deeper, holding on for dear life. One reason I was especially anxious to get home this year was to meet Jordan’s family. His mom and I had made plans a week or so ago by email to meet today. Unfortunately, our meeting has to be postponed; she let me know a couple days ago that they were all sick at their house. They didn’t want to risk exposing Canon to illness, and she said that when they meet Canon they want to be able to give him big hugs. So we put it off until the next time that we come down this way. I have many feelings about that day. I know I want it to be perfect. I actually saw the meeting of a child donor’s family and the infant recipient’s family on an episode of Dateline or 20/20 or some such news show. Part of me thinks it should be that big. Get Barbara Walters down here and let’s declare it National Jordan Day! Then I think that what would really be perfect is if we met under the tree that was planted in his honor at his elementary school. Just us and them. When the day comes, though, the decision is not mine. Whatever they feel like doing will be perfect. Maybe they’ll want to meet at ChuckECheese and just watch Canon get pizza all over his face and run from ride to ride pushing buttons and pounding gophers… just like Jordan did I’m sure.
I also heard from Carla this week. Please continue to pray for her. They made it through Christmas and Canon’s brother and sister enjoyed the holiday, but Carla is really struggling right now with questions about Canon’s death and whether or not things were missed in his treatment post-transplant. These tragedies make a mother have to hurdle these impossible thoughts and doubts. Some situations are easier than others to accept. Please pray for her with me.
I’m easily overcome with the gift that my kids are. I hope such a strong sentiment for everyone I know. Last night when I was trying to help Canon go to sleep, I went back in the room for the fourth or fifth time and had to finally give him a spanking. He whimpered a little bit, then looked at me and said, “I love you, Mommy, I love you.”
I whispered in his ear, “I love you, too, Canon.”
“I want to hold you, Mommy.”
As I rocked him on the edge of the bed, his hands locked behind my neck and his legs hanging on as tight as he could around my waist, through teary eyelids, I thought, “Don’t grow up. Don’t grow up. Don’t grow up…”