Raising children with CF drives me to extremes:
* I want people to treat them just like anyone else.
* I want people to treat them with kid gloves.
* I'm comfortable in the hospital.
* I want to burn down the hospital.
* I thank God for the extra gifts in caring for kids with health problems.
* I can barely speak to God.
* I am capable and strong.
* I am weak and sad.
* I'm just like any mom.
* I don't want to be around anyone with healthy children.
* I could kiss the researchers as they work for the good of humanity.
* I could slap the researchers if it would hasten a cure.
* My kids are just like yours.
* My kids are better than yours.
* My kids are worse than yours.
* I believe that suffering can bring us closer to Jesus.
* I don't want to be closer to Jesus.
I'm a little bit of all of this, often every day. It is easy to be tossed about with all the passion and lose sight of what is true, good, and beautiful:
And while I will happily give up any gifts for a cure, today they are still my gifts. Today I will live well. Extremely.