Madison Sanders Writes

Struggle © Michael Kaufmann via freeimages.com Where has my motivation gone? I feel a heaviness. It comes and goes. I'm not thinking negative thoughts now. I think I'm having a hard time just being. I like to do things. I like to know that I am accomplishing something. Lately, even though I am doing things, it feels as if I am slogging through mud. This season of life is different. I need to be content. Things are just hard. It's hard because I can't seem to get my thoughts down on paper. The words are there, but instead of them freely flowing, it's like they are suspended. I feel fatigued. Little things that shouldn't be bothering me are bothering me. I'll have a pretty good morning and feel drained in the afternoon. My youngest nephew, Bryson, wanted me to come with him on the bridge when the boys were playing outside. I couldn't come because I was sitting in the golf cart. I didn't have my wheelchair. It hurt, but it is also motivatio

Boots ©  Jean Scheijen via freeimages.com My oldest nephew has been wearing some insulated boots everywhere after school. They were only meant to be worn when it's really cold. It's spring time and he insisted on wearing his boots. So, we bought him another pair of rain boots so he wouldn't be so hot. "Do you like wearing your rain boots because Daddy wears boots?" I asked. "Yeah." The funny thing is he wanted to wear them with pants. And not just any pants! Mason said, "I want to wear long pants!" Mama and I tried to tell him that it's hot outside. "Don't you want to wear shorts?" His answer was still no. We found one pair of long pants. He smiled after putting them on and stomped off in his blue rain boots to go ride the golf cart. Before the boys left for church, Mason decided he didn't want to wear those pants anymore. "I want to wear blue ones with holes," he said. I didn

On Tuesday, I was able to go watch my oldest nephew and young cousin play T-ball. Getting out for an hour may not seem like much to you. In fact, things like this may seem like a chore at times. You see it at as something you have to do and not as a privilege. Not me. As I wheeled up to the bleachers and the sun beat down on my face, I was grateful. Several years ago, I couldn't do much of anything. I was bedridden, unable to do anything and trips "just because" were impossible. I was in too much pain. I remember when I could only stay at church for thirty minutes. It took my mom longer to drive to church than it did for me to sit there. But at least it was something. It was the start of me coming back into the land of the living.  I watched as the little kids twirled around in the red dirt, trying to watch the other players but being pulled by that desire to just be a kid. I watched as parents and grandparents yelled encouragement from the sidelines. Way to g