Anatomy of an Artichoke

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

My car will cost nearly 1K to get it back to normal. It seems every year or so we have to put about that much into one or both of our cars, but hey, we don't have a car payment, so it all works out. Still, to find out about my car right after our $189.00 oven shatter, it seems like money is going out way faster than it comes in.

My Mom is still in the hospital, and has been unresponsive to antibiotics. Meanwhile, they have been testing cultures to try to pinpoint what bacteria is causing the infection. They have her arm elevated above her heart to lessen the risk of the infection traveling further up her arm. Her thumb has turned blackish at this point, and I've felt scared about what's going on all day, especially after my sister, who is a nurse, told me she thought it might be necrotizing fasciitis (a.k.a. flesh-eating bacteria). Finally, after preliminary microscopic viewings of the culture, they feel confident the infection is staph and TB. They are doing hand surgery and treating with a new antibiotic in the morning. Meanwhile, she is in a lot of pain! I've been thinking about her all day.

My life sometimes feels like these artichokes in my garden--layers of petals that cover up the little heart on the inside. Often I get lost amongst the layers in my own life. Motherhood, responsibilities, projects, blogging . . . and then unexpected illnesses and crisis that occur from time to time. In the midst of it all, I must remind myself to peel back the petals and take a moment, just for me. By doing this, I am able to gain fresh perspective on my daily routines and strength to cope with trials that arise from time to time.

The other night, I planted this beautiful Poncirus trifoliata (I have the cultivar "Flying Dragon") in a container, added some trailing perennials (the names of which escape me now), and placed a few special rocks from our recent trip up to Leadbetter Point State Park. Juniper sat happily in the stroller while I worked, and Landon and Sam were off at Willamette Park. Those two hours of near solitude were just what I needed, and a personal reminder to take time to do things for myself a little more often. It really does make any overwhelming feelings disappear and fade into space.

No matter how challenging the first half of this week has been, it's the little and big things that matter the most: big things like health for those we love . . . and little things like this beautiful planter that represents time I took for me--always time well spent.


Kerrie said...

I'm sorry to hear about your mom's illness. She's in our prayers.

Betsy said...

Karli, I'm so sorry for your mom. I'll be remembering her in my prayers. I hope she's better soon!

Jeremy said...

Your poor mom! I hope whatever they are doing starts working soon and that they'll be able to save her thumb. We'll be praying also.

I'm sorry about your car! That stinks that you have to pay that much to fix it on top of the new oven door you need to get.

I hope you're able to get outside and enjoy this weekend.

Claudia said...


I cried when I read this blog!! It made me feel special to know that you cared so much about me!!
You are so 'right-on' when you say that life is like layers and that the really important things in life are family, health, and caring!! You have to take some special moments for yourself at times to get a fresh view-point on things.
I love the pot and the plant you planted!! Beautiful--colorful!! I never knew you were such the gardener Karli, until the last five years or so!! I am so impressed on your learning about plants, names, and etc.

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