They all stared...

 I walked through Safeway with Bitty Boo in her Service Dog harness pulling Lochlan down each aisle. He was growling loudly, laughing hysterically and yelling out the names of our dogs and the horses they (the dogs) were supposed to ride when we got home. People stared. A. Lot. Of. People. Stared. I felt like I was underneath a spotlight on a concert platform at a concert I never planned to attend. 

Having Bitty Boo walking calmly next to me was a balm to my tension. She takes it all in stride, doesn't let the boy stray. (I recently got her certified with the ADA because Aberdeen does not wish to be a service dog anymore; she was showing tremendous anxiety about wearing the harness and seemed stressed when on duty. So, now she's just my happy heart dog living the dream alongside me. :-) People can see that I'm struggling through the store, but most just awkwardly stare. About half way through the store, one kind woman smiled at us and engaged Lochlan in conversation, asking what his dog's name was, what sparkling water he wanted, etc. Then, she looked at me and said, "Good job Mama. He's beautiful and wonderful." I held back the tears... mostly. This week, post-seizure, I've felt almost constantly on alert, I've felt fragile, I have been reminded that I am in control of nothing. That "Good job Mama" carried me through that day.

I keep thinking this will get easier, that someday I'll be used to it. I've been set upon a stage without a skill set to perform. I don't have a clue what I'm doing. Sometimes I feel like I can't breathe. A simple trip to the grocery store feels like a marathon. I try... I pretend I know what I'm doing... but if you look closely you'll see that this is not my strength. This performance on this stage is one that I do not know, I have never learned and my natural talent is absent. Yet... the spotlight is mine and I must adapt. 

This past weekend, I took a couple days to go to the Colorado mountains with Declan. I wanted to take one long hike. I wanted to step outside the spotlight for a minute. And I did. It was a long, hard hike with over 2500 ft. elevation gain, but I felt restored in that place. I wrestled, internally, as I hiked. I felt the presence of the Creator in the overwhelming beauty of His Creation. I was exhausted as I descended back into life as I know it, but I had been able to set aside a lot of what I carry and I felt renewed strength and determination. 

I wish my own weaknesses weren't so appallingly apparent to me, but in my weakness...