Behind The Child

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Updated: 2 min 45 sec ago

Love heals.

Sun, 08/23/2015 - 17:23

One girl, getting bothered, sats dropping, pulse rising. Breathing fast, losing smiles, and generally working too hard at what should be a relatively simple automatic process of keeping air moving in and out of lungs. 
Move said girl from somewhat squashed scoliotic upright position onto a camp bed where her spine can straighten where it needs to and kink further where it must. 
Pain better, but everything else still too hard. 
Take one boy, place alongside and slightly underneath the girl. 
Watch girl's panic ease, see vital signs improve on the monitor. 
Out of interest, clip second monitor onto the boy. And watch as the girl's heart rate slows, coming to rest at exactly the same rate as the boy's. 
Two hearts, beating as one. Breathing calms, sats pick up, a boy's gentle hand strokes an ear and teases out locks of hair. A girl's distress replaced with gentle smiles for her boy. 
Love heals. 

Tenby

Wed, 08/19/2015 - 16:37
Sun, sand, sharks and jellyfish on the beach, lifeboats launching around the corner, giant rabbits, baby cygnets, ice creams and fresh fish and never changing but always something new to find alongside our old favourites. 

Friends can.

Thu, 08/13/2015 - 19:00

Friends can Tease gentle strands of your hair until the whole of it is a crowning blaze of tangled glory. 
Lie on each other's arms until they go to sleep, and only protest until they are awake again. 
Gently tickle ears and necks until everyone is laughing together. 
Argue over whose turn it is to choose the music. 
Detach sats monitors and feed pumps to set off alarms and make each other laugh. 
Find entirely non-verbal ways to insult, tease, and celebrate each other. 
Maybe we let our words get in the way. Tia

A holy mess.

Mon, 08/10/2015 - 02:54
I'm a holy mess. Cloaked In righteousness, Hooked on holiness I am a holy mess. 
God's life laundryOld stains shaken looseMy God is bigger. Waves of shame washed in oceans of love. My God is bigger still. 

A holy messYes. But I am a child of God. 
I am a holy mess. Cloaked in righteousness. I am a child of God. 
Hooked on holiness. Washed, and with a new Grace dress. I am a child of God. 

13

Sat, 06/27/2015 - 19:35
Too busy having fun to have taken any photos myself, so borrowing this one instead. 
Imi decided she wanted to see everyone for her birthday this year. She didn't want to go out, she wanted the world to come to her. And the world did. Best friends driving down from Newcastle to hold hands all day. Assorted branches of the family bearing gifts. Favoured friends who got the giggle and greet, and apparently less favoured friends who were ignored (but appreciated nonetheless). A vast amount of food, and a parade of people to keep her happy all day long. 
Just enough chocolate cake and strawberries to turn the suction pot bright red and worry Monday's nurses. And so much energy put into Saturday that breathing was optional on Sunday. And she's been pretty tired and very uncomfortable ever since. I'm sitting up at the moment waiting to be able to turn the limits on the sats monitor up, because I can't leave her setting them off at 80, and not am I happy to go to sleep with them set to 75. She isn't ill. She's just very very tired. But she did what she wanted to do, she had a fabulous day - and a beautiful new dress, as ordered by her at very short notice. 
And she's still here. Still smiling, still sarcastic, still able to work her mostly non-functional body in order to knock things over right where they will cause maximum inconvenience. Still making her own decisions, even (or perhaps especially) when they don't fit in with other people's timescales. 
Happy Birthday!