It's here! Today starts our summer vacation...the longest break we've EVER taken from homeschooling (ok, so I've only been doing this for 4 years. But still.) We had adopted a year-round school model when we moved to AZ, because it's crazy-hot here in the summer and what else are we going to do when it's 115 out? But then there was this year.
This year was....hard, homeschooling-wise. We learned a lot (yes, we as in I AND the kids), we did a lot, we read a lot (a lot a lot) but it was HARD. Especially once January hit. I've made some modifications to the way we do things and weeded things out that aren't essentials (I may be a little ambitious in my homeschool dreams vs. what we can actually handle. Maybe.) and things have smoothed out reasonably in the past couple of months. But Pax and I still need a break. Blythe, she's one who could (and would, if we'd let her) continue on with school every day all year long. But she needs a break, too, whether she knows it or not. And not just any break, but an extended break this time--6 (or maybe even 8!) whole weeks of playing and friends and traveling and swimming and reading and baking...learning, yes, always, but doing it in a much less structured, more creative and interest-led way.
And I.can't.wait.
I have a booklist of my own for the summer; and, yes, plans to do some organizing and cleaning out. Plans to sew and to take my "real" camera with me more places and slow down and enjoy the beauty we stumble across. Plans to spend time doing what the kids want to do, whatever they want to do... plans to write, even (gasp!) to blog; and to spend hours with good friends laughing deeply and talking even more deeply and re-setting.
You see, if I've learned anything during this year, it's that I can't do it all. WE can't do it all. So I've been leaning in and seeking my "why" for this season; which has meant weeding out a lot of other things are wrestling with my ambitions and, yes, my pride. In homeschooling, in photography, in worship, in chicken-farming, and in every other part of our life-because this is where we're at. Defining our "why" makes it SO much easier to say "no" to good things that come along, and leave way for the best things. Because Adam is almost done with school, and there are some huge decisions facing him right now. He'll graduate in August, take his boards, and then start practicing medicine. But the question right now is where and how he'll be doing that....so really, this break comes at the perfect time. For reflecting, for digging in, and for solidifying our "why" as we move forward as a family. For being less distracted by my lists and more open to listening.
And I.can't.wait.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
11.05.2014
And then, God spoke to me through a cactus. Or: how He makes all things new.
One of our giant saguaros out front toppled over and crashed into our house a few weeks ago. The night of October 20th, to be precise. Our house is fine; we have a foam roof and although it may not be pretty it's apparently good at keeping cactus out. We were surprised to say the least, and I have to admit I was a little bummed. I know, it's a cactus. But those ancient "trees" of the desert are beautiful in their sky-high majesty! However-it was just a cactus, and considering the news we got from a friend of ours earlier that same day...perspective.
Then came the next morning. The house was still quiet and dark; Adam was on a run and all three kiddos were asleep. I walked out to snap a few photos to show our families the danger of living in the desert, and, oh, maybe for instagram because how often does a giant cactus fall in your yard and magnificently smash a prickly pear so that it blows all over the place? It was pretty amazing. And beautiful, in the early morning light. And as I walked back into my kitchen to start making my morning smoothie, I started crying.
Seriously?!? I'm crying over a cactus. What the heck is wrong with me?!? was my subconscious thought.
But from inside, I heard a very familiar still voice....
It's not about the cactus.
And in that moment everything crystallized and I got it.
As I stood there and the knowing washed over me, the tears really started to roll and I had to put the blender down and just hold onto the counter and sob....because the Lord had just spoken beautiful truth to me through a cactus and even though my heart was breaking for our friends that day, I couldn't help but see the awe-struck majesty of a Lord who would speak to me through a cactus. (And the ridiculousness of it. I could see that too.)
You see, the day before a good friend of mine texted me while I was out running errands sans-kids. The gist of it was that my 28-weeks pregnant friend realized she hadn't felt baby move in a day or so, and was going to the midwives to get checked. She asked for prayer, and you can bet I prayed all thorough that hour-long barre class.
When I got out I had a text saying there had been no heartbeat detectable with the Doppler, and she was headed to the hospital for ultrasound confirmation. By 5 that night we found out that yes, she had lost the baby. Adam and I, we're not strangers to death or grief and really, who in this world is? So our hearts broke for our friends and the rest of the night was spent talking, praying, reaching out to them, praying...talking.
Not even a sparrow falls but that He knows it.
I wish I could describe to you in less than 55,000 words what happened the rest of that week and even into the next...the grief and the sadness, but more so the holiness of it all. The night we lived through in just a fraction of what they lived through, waiting to hear the news that she'd delivered their small daughter. That they'd finally met tiny, still Mercy. The updates of moments with her throughout that one day with her; of the only memories they would make with their small daughter in their arms. Painting tiny nails pink, taking hand and footprints, holding close to their hearts the little one whose heart beat no more. But I can't, except to tell you what my friend said in one of her texts- that it was the most beautifully sacred day they'd ever had.
Beautifully sacred. Holding their stillborn daughter...no anger, never anger in that day; although there was-is- sadness. Mostly there was just an overwhelming sense of the presence of the Lord pervading it all and making beauty from their ashes. Just as the light made beautiful the wreak of the cactus in our front yard that morning.
I knew all about it, and I know all about Mercy. I am not a god of cruelty, of mistakes, of senseless pain.
Not even a sparrow falls but that I know it....
And this is what I saw: He has conquered death. Not a new thought, really. It wasn't part of the original plan, death; it wasn't meant to be this way. It came in with sin. This is why death is so weird and just....heavy. I hate death, in a way. I'm not afraid of it, not angry with it...I just plain hate that this is what humanity has brought upon ourselves with our choices to sin. The traditions surrounding death, the rituals...it's all to try to understand, to say goodbye, to hold on longer.
But He has conquered death.
I knew this, of course. When Erica died and then again with Celine the Lord carried us through those valleys with so many, many beautiful touches of His presence, revelations of Himself, His goodness, His peace...even in the midst of so much grief. But it took me being on the outside and watching someone else going through the valley and experiencing so many of the same things to really get it. You see, as Christians who profess Christ is the only Son of God; that He died for us and thus paid for our sins; as we gladly repent and admit we can't do it on our own, be good enough, try hard enough to get to heaven we know He's conquered death to make the Way for us. But this I didn't fully realize until that week....
His death on the cross and conquering of the grave did not simply make the way to heaven for us. It also gave Him the power to come alongside us in our grief in a new way. In the most beautifully holy, sacred way it enabled Him to bridge the solitude of our grief, of death, and create Beauty from Ashes. ALL of the Ashes. ANYONE'S Ashes. He does, and He will, always, because of His love for us-- as well as for His glory-- and so He carrys us through the places we once had to trod alone. By His death, He earned that right.
Not even a sparrow falls but that He knows it.
Not even a cactus falls but that He's there to catch the healing tears of grief.
And so He continues to make beauty of the ashes.
Then came the next morning. The house was still quiet and dark; Adam was on a run and all three kiddos were asleep. I walked out to snap a few photos to show our families the danger of living in the desert, and, oh, maybe for instagram because how often does a giant cactus fall in your yard and magnificently smash a prickly pear so that it blows all over the place? It was pretty amazing. And beautiful, in the early morning light. And as I walked back into my kitchen to start making my morning smoothie, I started crying.
Seriously?!? I'm crying over a cactus. What the heck is wrong with me?!? was my subconscious thought.
But from inside, I heard a very familiar still voice....
It's not about the cactus.
And in that moment everything crystallized and I got it.
As I stood there and the knowing washed over me, the tears really started to roll and I had to put the blender down and just hold onto the counter and sob....because the Lord had just spoken beautiful truth to me through a cactus and even though my heart was breaking for our friends that day, I couldn't help but see the awe-struck majesty of a Lord who would speak to me through a cactus. (And the ridiculousness of it. I could see that too.)
You see, the day before a good friend of mine texted me while I was out running errands sans-kids. The gist of it was that my 28-weeks pregnant friend realized she hadn't felt baby move in a day or so, and was going to the midwives to get checked. She asked for prayer, and you can bet I prayed all thorough that hour-long barre class.
When I got out I had a text saying there had been no heartbeat detectable with the Doppler, and she was headed to the hospital for ultrasound confirmation. By 5 that night we found out that yes, she had lost the baby. Adam and I, we're not strangers to death or grief and really, who in this world is? So our hearts broke for our friends and the rest of the night was spent talking, praying, reaching out to them, praying...talking.
Not even a sparrow falls but that He knows it.
I wish I could describe to you in less than 55,000 words what happened the rest of that week and even into the next...the grief and the sadness, but more so the holiness of it all. The night we lived through in just a fraction of what they lived through, waiting to hear the news that she'd delivered their small daughter. That they'd finally met tiny, still Mercy. The updates of moments with her throughout that one day with her; of the only memories they would make with their small daughter in their arms. Painting tiny nails pink, taking hand and footprints, holding close to their hearts the little one whose heart beat no more. But I can't, except to tell you what my friend said in one of her texts- that it was the most beautifully sacred day they'd ever had.
Beautifully sacred. Holding their stillborn daughter...no anger, never anger in that day; although there was-is- sadness. Mostly there was just an overwhelming sense of the presence of the Lord pervading it all and making beauty from their ashes. Just as the light made beautiful the wreak of the cactus in our front yard that morning.
I knew all about it, and I know all about Mercy. I am not a god of cruelty, of mistakes, of senseless pain.
Not even a sparrow falls but that I know it....
And this is what I saw: He has conquered death. Not a new thought, really. It wasn't part of the original plan, death; it wasn't meant to be this way. It came in with sin. This is why death is so weird and just....heavy. I hate death, in a way. I'm not afraid of it, not angry with it...I just plain hate that this is what humanity has brought upon ourselves with our choices to sin. The traditions surrounding death, the rituals...it's all to try to understand, to say goodbye, to hold on longer.
But He has conquered death.
I knew this, of course. When Erica died and then again with Celine the Lord carried us through those valleys with so many, many beautiful touches of His presence, revelations of Himself, His goodness, His peace...even in the midst of so much grief. But it took me being on the outside and watching someone else going through the valley and experiencing so many of the same things to really get it. You see, as Christians who profess Christ is the only Son of God; that He died for us and thus paid for our sins; as we gladly repent and admit we can't do it on our own, be good enough, try hard enough to get to heaven we know He's conquered death to make the Way for us. But this I didn't fully realize until that week....
His death on the cross and conquering of the grave did not simply make the way to heaven for us. It also gave Him the power to come alongside us in our grief in a new way. In the most beautifully holy, sacred way it enabled Him to bridge the solitude of our grief, of death, and create Beauty from Ashes. ALL of the Ashes. ANYONE'S Ashes. He does, and He will, always, because of His love for us-- as well as for His glory-- and so He carrys us through the places we once had to trod alone. By His death, He earned that right.
Not even a sparrow falls but that He knows it.
Not even a cactus falls but that He's there to catch the healing tears of grief.
And so He continues to make beauty of the ashes.
1.26.2014
Diary of a P.A. student('s wife)
I am anxious.
24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139:23-24)
Yet even as I type, I'm fighting a prayer-filled battle NOT to be.
You see, I know it all. I Know my God is bigger, that He cares for this family. I know that He's called us to Phoenix, to PA school, to the way we're navigating these waters with me as a stay-at-home mom. I know He sees the size of our checking account, knows how many weeks are left to go before the next loan dispersment, knows what we need in the meantime.
I know He will provide.
I've seen Him come through for us time and time and time again.
So why do I still grow anxious when I check the bank account and find there's less-much less-than I'd anticipated? WHY do I allow fear to creep in, to take over my attitude, to lash out when all that is needed is to trust?
Get away from me, anxious heart...trust in your Lord!
Quiet down, frantic mind...listen for your Lord!
Have peace, oh my soul...He knows
and sees
and cares
and DOES PROVIDE.
God is putting me through a season of heavy loads
so that I can finally see how much unnecessary extra I've carried my whole life.
He is allowing PA school to refine me, and my husband, even as the Lord prepares us for a different kind of life on the other side of all this.
(Because there is another side, and all of this has a purpose.)
You know those prayers you pray sometimes...the ones that echo King David's prayers, that earnestly cry out,
Search me,O God, and know my heart;
try me and know my anxious thoughts.24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting. (Psalm 139:23-24)
I prayed that many months ago. I pray it still today. He heard, still hears, and is answering. Like gold being refined...at times it's hot and uncomfortable and I cry out. Once it's over, though! So precious, what comes out of that Fire! As I learn to replace His truths with the lies I've believed for so long-in so many areas of my life-it is fire. But through the fire
comes the freedom. And oh, the Lightness of that freedom.
And now, pictures of my adorable children (at least, I think they are) to end this post on a lighter note...
9.30.2013
WHO is in your room??
The other night, Adam came out from Blythe's room chuckling a bit and told me I should go give her one last kiss. So I went in, sat on the edge of her bed, and she began to explain to me that she didn't like sleeping by herself(very dramatically, with lots of gesturing) because "Pax and Blaise get to sleep together and you and Daddy get to sleep together and I'm" (head shaking, more gesturing) "I'm just in here with God and wisdom!!!"
Somehow, I manage to only smile at her as she says this so earnestly; and I tell her that maybe someday soon, we could get a cat...."yeah...and then the cat could curl up on my pillow or sleep on a little bed next to my bed and...." at this point I'm kissing her, saying goodnight, and heading out the door-- and wondering who, exactly, wisdom is!
But I'm pretty sure if she has anything to do with it there will be a cat named Wisdom here very soon. Or Lucy. She likes Lucy, too...
"I'm just in here with God and wisdom!!!"
seems like pretty good company to me :)
Somehow, I manage to only smile at her as she says this so earnestly; and I tell her that maybe someday soon, we could get a cat...."yeah...and then the cat could curl up on my pillow or sleep on a little bed next to my bed and...." at this point I'm kissing her, saying goodnight, and heading out the door-- and wondering who, exactly, wisdom is!
But I'm pretty sure if she has anything to do with it there will be a cat named Wisdom here very soon. Or Lucy. She likes Lucy, too...
"I'm just in here with God and wisdom!!!"
seems like pretty good company to me :)
8.01.2013
Diary of a PA student('s wife): the First Term.
Somehow, just like that, it's August. Somehow, the craziness of PA school has made things time-warp...no longer are we in the first month of school. We raced past that milestone without blinking, and the kids and I flew to Ft. Collins to spend they week of midterms with my folks, and half of this past week with great friends up in Flagstaff. You know, so Adam could bury himself in bodyparts (that sounds weird, but it's kinda true) and come out victorious. Or at least still standing.
Somehow, we are adjusted (for now, at least) to his crazy study schedule and I have learned to balance having my husband home but not available 90% of the time. I'm seeing more and more just what an incredibly beautiful support system of friends and family we have...I've gained insight from sistercousins on how to deal with the days when it's overwhelming...and then the hubby comes home and must go study. I've been reminded by a dear friend and mentor that each minute does not last forever; and that there isn't a limit to how many times you can ask God for the strength and patience to make it through this temper tantrum and not freak out too each day. I see that even in the hard times, in the exhaustion, in the trips by myself with the kids when I throw up on the airplane as we land in a crazy lightening storm; there is still a beauty there to grasp that does not come from me. (My daughter kept singing joyfully, "oh, no, you never let go; through the calm and through the storm..." and the baby bounced up and down and laughed at the turbulence and Pax stared at the lightening flashing just outside the window and exclaimed, "Oh, wow!!" 18,000 times during that landing...)
Adam and I are both soaking up more than ever the beautiful truth of, "Seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added unto you," (Matt. 6:33) Adam has learned to be efficient in his studying; and it has made his time more productive. Like drinking from a fire hydrant. He's been home every night for dinner (when we're in town), been there for bedtime every night; and although sometimes I feel the absence of "us" time more than others; the kids know their Daddy will be there every night. That's HUGE right now with the hours some of the students are keeping-but we knew it was a priority. We're both finding out, again, the importance of true connection with each other every day in some small way. And that good communication is worth its weight in gold. And that love notes are never, ever overrated. And so we press on....
The kids slept better in Colorado than they ever have at my folks' house. It truly was Grace, because as they sleep all-too-often so goes my day; as was evidenced 2 weeks ago when the baby was cutting his one-year-old molars and up three times a night and then the bigs started getting up (for no reason I can find) several times a night themselves which all added up to a very tired, half-lonely, sleep deprived mama who caught a bad sore throat and may have had a tiny breakdown one morning in which the words "it's not fair!" poured out with my tears....for about 2.5 seconds. Until I realized, again, that there is no guarantee of fair, only of grace. Having the right priorities, being intentional, meeting the needs of my husband and kids, filling up my heart with the Lord's goodness daily, checking my attitude...these things are essential. Wonderful. But they don't guarantee an "easy" life, only a life rich with goodness. Some days I have to look harder than others to find the richness. But it's always there.
It was there on my bathroom mirror later that same morning, where my husband had written:
What to say?
Know that even in struggle you have great purpose.
Your effort...your great work is NOT in vain.
Your Lord God sees and loves you.
He is your strength.
He is your comfort.
Look up and be encouraged.
(yes, I absolutely know how wonderful he is. He knows I think he's wonderful, too.)
And then there's Celine..the grieving we are all going through along with all the craziness of PA school is continual. We think about her often, of course. Some days, the kids come to me and simply say, "I miss aunt C.C."; to which I can only reply, "Oh, honey, so do I,". But we don't ever leave it at that. We talk about where she is, what heaven might be like, what she might be doing. Why she left. Who she's with. We've had more conversations about the what-ifs of heaven in the past 3 months than I ever have before...because they want to know what it's like. Except I don't know what all of what it's like, of course; so I tell them what we do know and sometimes we "maybe its" the rest. But we always, always end these conversations with good memories about times we spent with her...because that's the best way to remember her and celebrate her life. And I want them to remember her.
It breaks my heart a little, sometimes, when Blythe asks me what she used to do with Aunt C.C. She's three-and even though she's very smart, she's too young to remember some things very long. So I talk about how we were in Paris with her when Blythe was almost two; and when Aunt C.C. was here for her third birthday and played tea party with her new tea set. How Celine loved to carry B around long after she actually needed someone to carry her because B was so tiny.
I think about the picture I found on my phone (which used to be her phone) just a few weeks ago of Celine and her sushi and I smile even as I tear up a bit; and I am thankful for this chance to teach my children that it's ok to grieve, it's good to let yourself feel the sadness because it means they left an imprint in the softness of our hearts; but that joy-the good memories and the knowledge of what comes next-always comes at the end. I find myself wishing our kids had memories of their Aunt Erica, too; but instead I give them mine, so when they think of both their aunts together they have an idea of who she is, too.
So tonight, Adam will come home. A bit late, but he will be here. We'll eat breakfast for dinner and play in the pool and put the kids to bed exhausted, since there was no napping today. And I'll go to my computer, put on my headphones, smile at my studying husband across the room....and remember again how very far we've come to get to this point. How very blessed we are. First term finals almost done. Next week, we will rest and just be together and talk and talk and talk.
I can't wait :)
5.19.2013
In which I admit I don't understand. Except....I do.
Sometimes, I pretend not to understand this world. Sometimes, it feels good to just let myself feel the injustice of pain....and forget the rest.
We just got news of another sister who died young...the sister of a guy who was a youth leader with us in Durango, another lifetime ago. Bad car accident. The day we left Durango, my inlaws heard about a woman they know there who had gotten the news about a different car accident, that one in Wyoming...their daughter was gone. So was her boyfriend. Acquaintances from Durango, now relocated to Montana, lost their daughter at 30 weeks in utero...she had a heart condition; if she'd lived to 34 weeks they could have done surgery. But 30 weeks....she was too tiny. So she flew away, too....that was the day before Celine died.
Sometimes, I don't want to look any deeper than that; to try to understand it. Except, I already do understand it.
I get frustrated with the way our world is right now. The pain, the sorrow, the cancer that takes young moms or dads away "too soon" in our eyes; the friends struggling to make ends meet; the teenage girl with internal pains no one seems to be able to solve. Those friends struggling with unfaithfulness in their marriage; the other ones who want a baby so very badly; the one struggling with depression. The school shootings, the bombings, the innocents abandoned and hurt...and there's so much hurt, so much grief, so much Ache.
And then we get home and our baby, after a week of sleeping well, starts waking up 3 and 4 times at night and I'm so very weary from everything in the past few months, and I don't think I can do it.....and I get frustrated with his little one year old self (lame) and yell at God in my head that I JUST NEED A BREAK and for the kid to SLEEP and I know, I know that's the selfishly wrong response...that if that family in Montana just had their little girl here with them, they wouldn't care if she ever slept through the night....
Sin sucks. My selfishness is sin. Free will, free choice is a beautiful thing... But sin sucks. It's what made this world what it is, right now.
Please hear me...I am NOT saying these things happened because of something sinful these people
did. (Well, except for the unfaithfulness. That's obvious.) I am NOT trying to preach. I'm
telling you what I'm learning in the depths of my soul...things I need to write down so I don't forget;
so that someday, maybe, our kids will have some insight into this time. I AM saying that the reason these things hurt so much...the reason we cry out "Why, God??" and feel this Ache, this sense
of injustice is because...this wasn't the original design. And whether or not you believe in God, I
know you still feel that, too. That something just isn't right here.
I know it because you were created by Him, too, and deep inside there was placed in you a longing for the things of God. For God Himself.
When God first created man it was to live in a perfect world...death wasn't part of it. Except He gave us the freedom to choose, because he wanted a relationship with us. Not a bunch of obediant puppets. And once they chose to sin (as we choose it, too. Ever lied?)...then death entered the picture. And things started fall apart...like bodies. And diseases came into the picture. And pain. And grief. And babies who don't ever sleep through the night....
The beauty of all of this-everything spirling away from perfection and into chaos-is that, if we choose to see it, it shows us even more clearly that our God is all about restoration. About making the broken whole again.Thank goodness. This is part of what Adam talked about at Celine's service-how now, because of Christ's sacrifice, every death, every pain, every tearing of your heart can be redeemed. Turned into something beautiful, and whole, and restored.
The scars don't ever go away. The ache is still there, at times, because we still live here. But although we long for the day when the ache will be gone for good and we will dance in His presence, somehow...even here, somehow He is using my scars-their scars-your scars- to form an even more beautiful, glorious tommorrow. And right now, that truth is what we are leaning on. "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning," Ps. 30:5 b
We just got news of another sister who died young...the sister of a guy who was a youth leader with us in Durango, another lifetime ago. Bad car accident. The day we left Durango, my inlaws heard about a woman they know there who had gotten the news about a different car accident, that one in Wyoming...their daughter was gone. So was her boyfriend. Acquaintances from Durango, now relocated to Montana, lost their daughter at 30 weeks in utero...she had a heart condition; if she'd lived to 34 weeks they could have done surgery. But 30 weeks....she was too tiny. So she flew away, too....that was the day before Celine died.
Sometimes, I don't want to look any deeper than that; to try to understand it. Except, I already do understand it.
I get frustrated with the way our world is right now. The pain, the sorrow, the cancer that takes young moms or dads away "too soon" in our eyes; the friends struggling to make ends meet; the teenage girl with internal pains no one seems to be able to solve. Those friends struggling with unfaithfulness in their marriage; the other ones who want a baby so very badly; the one struggling with depression. The school shootings, the bombings, the innocents abandoned and hurt...and there's so much hurt, so much grief, so much Ache.
And then we get home and our baby, after a week of sleeping well, starts waking up 3 and 4 times at night and I'm so very weary from everything in the past few months, and I don't think I can do it.....and I get frustrated with his little one year old self (lame) and yell at God in my head that I JUST NEED A BREAK and for the kid to SLEEP and I know, I know that's the selfishly wrong response...that if that family in Montana just had their little girl here with them, they wouldn't care if she ever slept through the night....
Sin sucks. My selfishness is sin. Free will, free choice is a beautiful thing... But sin sucks. It's what made this world what it is, right now.
Please hear me...I am NOT saying these things happened because of something sinful these people
did. (Well, except for the unfaithfulness. That's obvious.) I am NOT trying to preach. I'm
telling you what I'm learning in the depths of my soul...things I need to write down so I don't forget;
so that someday, maybe, our kids will have some insight into this time. I AM saying that the reason these things hurt so much...the reason we cry out "Why, God??" and feel this Ache, this sense
of injustice is because...this wasn't the original design. And whether or not you believe in God, I
know you still feel that, too. That something just isn't right here.
I know it because you were created by Him, too, and deep inside there was placed in you a longing for the things of God. For God Himself.
When God first created man it was to live in a perfect world...death wasn't part of it. Except He gave us the freedom to choose, because he wanted a relationship with us. Not a bunch of obediant puppets. And once they chose to sin (as we choose it, too. Ever lied?)...then death entered the picture. And things started fall apart...like bodies. And diseases came into the picture. And pain. And grief. And babies who don't ever sleep through the night....
The beauty of all of this-everything spirling away from perfection and into chaos-is that, if we choose to see it, it shows us even more clearly that our God is all about restoration. About making the broken whole again.Thank goodness. This is part of what Adam talked about at Celine's service-how now, because of Christ's sacrifice, every death, every pain, every tearing of your heart can be redeemed. Turned into something beautiful, and whole, and restored.
The scars don't ever go away. The ache is still there, at times, because we still live here. But although we long for the day when the ache will be gone for good and we will dance in His presence, somehow...even here, somehow He is using my scars-their scars-your scars- to form an even more beautiful, glorious tommorrow. And right now, that truth is what we are leaning on. "...weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning," Ps. 30:5 b
4.30.2013
In which we cry out to God.
I'm shocked, yet again, at how quickly things change.
One moment we're eating dinner Sunday evening in a little cafe in an equally little beach town in Brittany, trying our best to keep our American children from behaving like, well, American children....and the next we're walking on the pier when Adam's phone rings again.
I will never forget that moment.
I was walking a little ahead with the baby, watching Pax as he ran ahead, wild with exuberance about being at the beach. Then Adam was yelling at me to come take Blythe...I thought he was frustrated by her refusal to walk, but as I went back and took hold of her he urgently said "look at me. Look at me!" and when I did, he mouthed "Bad. REALLY BAD."
Oh, his face....! He was crying, and I knew instantly someone had died. My first thought honestly was that it was my father-in-law...he's 68. It's the "logical" choice. Except death isn't logical....
I remember moaning, unthinkingly going on my knees and grabbing the kids to me; telling them we needed to pray, right then, and beginning to pray out loud for my inlaws. After a minute I looked to catch Adam's eyes. I'll never forget the grief, the devastation, the anguish I saw there. "Who??" I mouthed.
"Celine." "She's dead...!!"
I think I would have collapsed with grief then if I hadn't already been on the ground, holding my two oldest. Tears came hot and suddenly. I remember moaning Oh, God, no! ...why??
Celine (my sister-in-law) suffered from seizers from the time she was about 2. It was a struggle for her, making her at times afraid to try something new for fear that she'd have a seizure; it was an anguish to my mother-in-law, as it would be for any mother watching their child hurt. As Adam got more into his premed classes, we became fairly certain-although she was never formally diagnosed-that she had epilepsy. In the end, complications (horrible ones) from a seizure Sunday morning (April 28th, 2013) caused her death....and it's all so much like a terribly eerie case of deja vu. Almost eleven years ago, on June 29th, my sister died tragically young just weeks after she had started PA school. This time, it's his sister-only 19 years old- who is gone so tragically. And Adam starts PA school in June.
My heart aches. What else can I say? It's awful, yet still so unreal. She is suddenly, tragically gone..we walked to the beach, which was thankfully abandoned. We talked a little, cried a little, wandered around stunned a little...I called my parents and, in tears, told them the news. Adam gave one huge yell of grief. And then we just held each other and watched our three kids playing happily in the sand, the sun slowly sinking behind them, unaware of how suddenly all of our lives had changed.
We'd only arrived Sunday afternoon to the little fishing village filled with quaint, white washed cottages, blue shutters, and cobbled streets. It's the town where Adam and Jerome spent summers with their French grandparents, growing up; and it's one of Adam's favorite places on earth. I fell in love with it too. I have always loved the Northern California coast, and after the bustle of Paris, the northern-California-esk coast is much more our style. I can't help but feel it's part of the reason we were there when we found out-if we had to be in France when she died, that place, at least, is healing. Paris-for all its' culture and beautiful architecture-is not a healing place for us. The kids were thrilled to be here. And now we are in limbo.
We want to be with our Durango family right now. That goes without saying... but between technical issues with the cell phone we have here and language issues with the airline's customer service, it took a day and a half and a trip back to Paris to get flights ironed out. We'll be flying out of Paris Thursday around noon, getting in to Denver Thursday evening. A lot of people have been wondering what progress had been made on our getting back Stateside, so there you go.
I can see the struggle on my husband's face....the sadness, how unreal it all is at times here. The desire to be with his parents, the grief that she's gone; our inability to do much of anything, it seems, right now. I know how he aches inside...and I know how hard it will hit him when we finally make it back to Durango. How hard it will hit both of us, most likely- to see his folks; to stay in the house where she grew up and lived her whole life. To find her truly gone. I wish I could take the hurt away from him, somehow. I know I can't. But I also know that, if he lets himself be comforted by our Holy Father, this baptism of grief will refine him as a grain of sand is refined in an oyster-layer after layer, tear by tear, until it becomes a Pearl.
I found one yesterday morning, in a tidepool. An oyster, that is. Unopened. It's silly, but I brought it home. Hoping maybe there will be a pearl inside it. Pearls stand for tears, they say...both joyful and sorrowful. Weeping may endure for a night, but Joy comes with the morning. It's just that sometimes, the night lasts longer than you ever thought it would.
A picture of Celine flashed into my head last night, as I stood on the beach just minutes after hearing the news. I saw her in heaven, still herself but so much more herself-whole, straight, peaceful, shining with joy and health. Which of course is the truth. She was laughing, the smile that was seen when she was truly happy here on earth spread wide on her face. Her hair streamed out behind her, still long and dark but now lit from the back by a Light. She was talking to several people, bright and dressed in white-their backs were to me so I couldn't see their faces. But there was Joy there. And Peace. And Wholeness.
There's a lot I don't know right now. What God will work from these ashes; how life will change now-I don't say how it can go on, because I've walked this road before and it does go on. And there is joy and silliness even now at times in the distraction of our kiddos. We're waiting until we get Stateside to tell them-trying to get through the flights first. Pax knows something is up, but not what. I don't know how my children will react to all this-they loved their Aunt C.C. very much. And she loved all her nieces and nephews very much, too. I felt the fear start to creep in a little as night drew closer the first couple of nights-and with God's help I fought it off. There wasn't much sleep for me yet; how could there be? But instead of the thoughts I was dreading there was music. Praises to God were running through my head all night long. I do what I can to help my husband's heart and know it will never be enough; but I also know we're not alone. And I know our God heals.
I know He works all things together for His glory. And I know that when we are weak, He is strong. I can feel His strength more and more, today, as friends around the world are praying for us-thank you, dear friends. Please keep lifting us all up. Adam's parents in their devastation, Jerome and Tiff there on the front lines, us with a marathon of flights and jetlag and another road trip to get to them. Thank you for your words, your prayers, your love. We love you, too.
10.11.2012
Diary of a {pre}Med Student{'s wife}
Adam came home from work a couple of hours ago; nothing unusual there. Since he has class today, he gets off early. But,as I ran around trying to make lunch for the big kids, mash up a plum for the baby, and sweet up glass and flour off the flour (the flour from a fun "moon-scape" activity Pax was doing earlier; the glass from breaking my French press...boo. No coffee tomorrow!!) he walked in, kissed me, and told the kids to go sit on the couch. That he had something for them...and for me, too. So, once it was safe to walk across my kitchen floor, the three of us sat on the couch and waited.
"Close your eyes!" he says.
A minute or two goes by, as I cover my eyes with one hand and peek at the kids with the other, making sure their eyes are closed too.
"Keep 'em closed!" he says. Now I can hear him doing something with his phone...is it a late birthday gift for Pax from someone who wants to be on the phone while he opens it? I have no clue what's going on.
Adam walks over to the kids and hands them each something.
"Mama, keep yours closed," he instructs, walking away again.
Then he's back, placing a bouquet of roses in my hands as the sweetest sound I've heard in a long time reaches my ears....
"We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to the Physician Assistant program at AT Stills University...."
the rest of the message got lost in my huge "YAY!!!!" as I threw up my hands, then jumped up and kissed him. "Yay, yay, YAY!!! Congratulations!!" He grinned at me as I looked down and saw an absolutely gorgeous bouquet of white roses in my hands.
The next few moments kinda went on like that, as we explained to the kids that Daddy had gotten into the Arizona school, ("Good job, Daddy!") and that this meant we get to stay at our house. "YES!!" Pax crowed, after hearing that. Immediately after he ate his lunch (ice cream first...that's what Adam had brought for the kids), he ran outside, peed on a palm tree, ran around the back yard, stripped off his clothes, and jumped into the pool naked. I think that's his way of celebrating.
I could not be more thankful for the way this whole thing has played out. Remember back in May of 2011, when we started the whole moving-to-Phoenix process? Our prayer was that we'd be able to settle into the place where we'd be for the next 4 or so years, make some friends, find a church, etc. so we could be a bit settled when the husband-man actually started PA school. And that's actually (this time!) exactly what has happened...not exactly in the way we though it would. But it IS happening! A direct, blessed answer to prayer, coming at the end of a challenging year. We didn't exactly see moving 5 times in one year in the picture. Or not hearing anything, one way or the other, from the schools he applied to last year. Or a new baby, for that matter, one who made me sicker than a dog my entire pregnancy and caused my mother to move in with us for 5 weeks at the end. {so incredibly thankful we won't be doing THAT while Adam is in PA school..pretty sure my mother would have had to just move in with us.} I know it's been incredibly stressful for my husband, thinking about moving everyone again; and not the easiest on the kids (especially Pax), dealing with all the moving and the mom-being-sick and the new-baby thing. Although once he was on the outside, Pax at least gave a big sigh of relief. And although it surprisingly wasn't too stressful for me to think of moving again, possibly across the country, I am beyond excited that we are staying here. Adam will still interview at Midwestern in Glendale in 3 weeks, but no matter the outcome of that one-we'll be here, in the hot, for the next 3 1/2 years. At least.
Adam didn't need to be accepted to 4 schools; one would've been plenty. But God showered His favor on him. Why? I think just to bless him-to show Adam that he's on the right path-and just because God loves him lavishly.
I don't think-actually, I know-that the answers to our prayers aren't always "yes." They don't always make sense; sometimes we don't even like the answers at all. If God did always answer "yes" in just exactly the way we wanted Him to, my sister would still be alive, for one thing. And I wouldn't be married to Adam. And if somehow we had ended up together, we wouldn't have the kiddos we have right now. So here's what I do know: God's ways are better than my ways; His thoughts see farther than my narrow scope of now does. In every situation, big or small. Even when the answers are "no", "not now", or "yes, but not like that," I've learned to praise Him and, yes, thank Him. For His ways are better than my ways; His thoughts are greater than my thoughts. He knows the end from the beginning, thank goodness, so worrying isn't something I need to-well-worry about. I also know that as humans, we make dumb decisions sometimes. And we have to live with the consequences. I know there's evil in the world...and we have to fight against it. But not alone-never, ever alone.
Right now, today, as I sit on my couch with all three of my littles napping at the same time (!!); with my husband 200 ft. away in the air-conditioned shop-slash-office off our carport; with dozens of pictures to finish editing from a recent wedding and three more shoots coming up this weekend I know that God is good. I knew this last night, too, at the end of a rough couple of stay-at-home-mama days; I will know it as we face the next few years of clinical rotations and crazy study schedules and, I'm sure, weeks of parenting without my husband during finals and who-knows-what-else. I'm thankful for the difficult times in my life when I learned this truth in the very core of my being; because now, when life hands us a bouquet of beautiful white roses, the goodness of God flows out of me with overwhelming joy. I'm so proud of my husband-and so thankful to our God. It's not over yet-really, it's just beginning! But after the years of working and studying and applying and waiting, it's so very good just to rejoice right now. {and to know that, for once, I can paint the walls any color I want}
"Close your eyes!" he says.
A minute or two goes by, as I cover my eyes with one hand and peek at the kids with the other, making sure their eyes are closed too.
"Keep 'em closed!" he says. Now I can hear him doing something with his phone...is it a late birthday gift for Pax from someone who wants to be on the phone while he opens it? I have no clue what's going on.
Adam walks over to the kids and hands them each something.
"Mama, keep yours closed," he instructs, walking away again.
Then he's back, placing a bouquet of roses in my hands as the sweetest sound I've heard in a long time reaches my ears....
"We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to the Physician Assistant program at AT Stills University...."
the rest of the message got lost in my huge "YAY!!!!" as I threw up my hands, then jumped up and kissed him. "Yay, yay, YAY!!! Congratulations!!" He grinned at me as I looked down and saw an absolutely gorgeous bouquet of white roses in my hands.
The next few moments kinda went on like that, as we explained to the kids that Daddy had gotten into the Arizona school, ("Good job, Daddy!") and that this meant we get to stay at our house. "YES!!" Pax crowed, after hearing that. Immediately after he ate his lunch (ice cream first...that's what Adam had brought for the kids), he ran outside, peed on a palm tree, ran around the back yard, stripped off his clothes, and jumped into the pool naked. I think that's his way of celebrating.
I could not be more thankful for the way this whole thing has played out. Remember back in May of 2011, when we started the whole moving-to-Phoenix process? Our prayer was that we'd be able to settle into the place where we'd be for the next 4 or so years, make some friends, find a church, etc. so we could be a bit settled when the husband-man actually started PA school. And that's actually (this time!) exactly what has happened...not exactly in the way we though it would. But it IS happening! A direct, blessed answer to prayer, coming at the end of a challenging year. We didn't exactly see moving 5 times in one year in the picture. Or not hearing anything, one way or the other, from the schools he applied to last year. Or a new baby, for that matter, one who made me sicker than a dog my entire pregnancy and caused my mother to move in with us for 5 weeks at the end. {so incredibly thankful we won't be doing THAT while Adam is in PA school..pretty sure my mother would have had to just move in with us.} I know it's been incredibly stressful for my husband, thinking about moving everyone again; and not the easiest on the kids (especially Pax), dealing with all the moving and the mom-being-sick and the new-baby thing. Although once he was on the outside, Pax at least gave a big sigh of relief. And although it surprisingly wasn't too stressful for me to think of moving again, possibly across the country, I am beyond excited that we are staying here. Adam will still interview at Midwestern in Glendale in 3 weeks, but no matter the outcome of that one-we'll be here, in the hot, for the next 3 1/2 years. At least.
Adam didn't need to be accepted to 4 schools; one would've been plenty. But God showered His favor on him. Why? I think just to bless him-to show Adam that he's on the right path-and just because God loves him lavishly.
I don't think-actually, I know-that the answers to our prayers aren't always "yes." They don't always make sense; sometimes we don't even like the answers at all. If God did always answer "yes" in just exactly the way we wanted Him to, my sister would still be alive, for one thing. And I wouldn't be married to Adam. And if somehow we had ended up together, we wouldn't have the kiddos we have right now. So here's what I do know: God's ways are better than my ways; His thoughts see farther than my narrow scope of now does. In every situation, big or small. Even when the answers are "no", "not now", or "yes, but not like that," I've learned to praise Him and, yes, thank Him. For His ways are better than my ways; His thoughts are greater than my thoughts. He knows the end from the beginning, thank goodness, so worrying isn't something I need to-well-worry about. I also know that as humans, we make dumb decisions sometimes. And we have to live with the consequences. I know there's evil in the world...and we have to fight against it. But not alone-never, ever alone.
10.21.2011
Seasons
So I have something God's been whispering to my heart lately. It's a lesson I've learned before, but I'm learning even more deeply now-about thriving in the season of life you're in (as in, thriving in whatever is going on in my life situation, currently); about living in the moment but not forgetting about the future; about having a thankful heart in all things and a little perspective. I was going to blog about it a little... but my good friend Jill just summed it up prettymuch perfectly-so I'm just gonna point you her way, instead.
6.29.2011
June 29th, 2002: the day the world tilted.
It was the day my life changed-dramatically-forever. I suppose I could say that about a lot of days in my life-my wedding day, the day I gave birth to my son, the day I met Adam, the day I left for Brazil...there are others, of course. But none of those days changed my life (actually, my entire family) quite as radically as that day did.
It was a beautiful, sunny day.
I was 18 1/2 years old.
I had just graduated from high school a month before, and was looking forward to one last summer of "childhood".
It was the day my sister died.
I've never been able to write about her, before. I mean, I've journaled and talked and thought about her countless times, but I've never been able to write about her before. At least, not about the day she died. But today....something keeps nagging at me. Something whispering I need to write about her, about that day and all the days that followed after it, and I need to do it now.
So I am-or, at least, I'm trying.
You know how you'll always remember exactly where you were when you heard about September 11th? Or the Oklahoma City Bombing, or the Kennedy assassination? {Not that I remember that one...but maybe some of you do!} That's how I remember The Phone Call. My best friend and I were driving down College Avenue on a bright sunny day, headed to our favorite boutique, when my mom called. I remember her telling me my sister was in the hospital and I needed to come home right away so we could get down to Denver, where she was. I remember thinking something serious was happening because of the tone of my mom's voice. But I thought-maybe surgery. Maybe in the hospital for a few days....never did I think she would die. I mean, my friend and I were supposed to go to her place for the fourth of July weekend. She would be fine by then...right?
My parents obviously had a different sense of foreboding. My Dad got us down to Denver as fast as he could; my mom kept calling my brother (who was spending the weekend with her and called the ambulance in the first place) but all he would say was,
"They're still working on her."
Except she was already gone. In the blink of an eye, my tall, blond, beautiful, sunny sister was taken up to be with her Savior. She was 24 and the picture of perfect health...it was unthinkable. {I wish I had a picture to post of her but this was before I had a digital camera, and I still don't have a scanner}
I remember so clearly walking through the ER back to one of those little offices where they take people when they have really bad news to tell them. I had an anklet on with little silver bells all over it, like Indian dancers wear, and the sound of it jingling was all I could hear the whole way back....a chaplain was there, along with my brother and my parents' good friends from forever. I remember wondering how they'd gotten there...and then I remember the man saying something like, "I'm sorry," and seeing my mom start to cry but I didn't understand, didn't want to understand, couldn't understand, and so I asked him desperately, "Is she dead??"
And he just nodded.
And I became numb.
She died of a coronary embolism, a blood clot that probably started in her leg, broke off, and went directly to her heart. We were told they did everything they could to save her-I didn't want to know what that meant. Still don't, although I have a cousin who worked as an EMT who could tell me, I'm sure. We found out later through blood testing that we have a genetic condition call hyperhomosystemia, which basically causes our blood to clot more easily than average. It's not as rare as you'd think...couple that with the birth control pills she was taking for bad cramps, and the combination was horribly tragic. It's one of the reasons I've never touched hormonal birth control and am so emphatic about my friends getting their blood tested for the condition if they are going to use any form of hormonal birth control-losing one person this way is more than enough.
Losing my sister was tragic.
I don't remember how we got home that evening. I don't remember a lot about the first weeks after her death. I do remember how horrible that first night was. And I remember the sound of my mother crying.
I had to grow up in a hurry-like overnight. I had to learn to comfort those who had always been there to comfort me-my parents-as I watched them grieve the death of their firstborn. Losing a best friend is bad enough; losing a sister is tragic. I can only now, as a mother myself, begin to imagine the pain my parents went thorough. It's not the way things are "supposed" to be-the child dying before the parent.
It's the first and last time I ever slept in their bed all night long. Comforting them as they comforted me.
I can't stop there, though. As easy as it would be to make this post about her death, about grief, about how our family shifted and changed for years before we finally found our new places-I can't. I have to write about the hope of Erica's death.
Because there is hope....
"...weeping may endure for a night, but Joy comes in the morning," Psalm 30:5
and I know this to be true, because I've lived it. Joy didn't come in happy days and laughter right away; although there was perhaps to some a scandalous amount of laughter in that house the week before Erica's funeral. How could we laugh, you ask, when my devastatingly young sister had just tragically died?
Because of hope.
"for I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD; plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you HOPE and a future," Jeremiah 29:11
Everywhere we turned that week there were whispers of heaven. A dollar bill at the checkout with the above verse written on it. An angel's touch felt in her bedroom. A dream I had, talking to my sister...my cousin sleeping in the same room listened to me talk to her in my sleep. An anklet we made to remember her, with a little heart and a little cross charm on it-and then my mom finding a gold necklace {my sister's when she was little} with a little heart and a little cross charm on it. There are more, so many more....but perhaps the loudest whisper was that of the still, small voice in my heart telling me to Live.
It wasn't the same kind of living I'd done before, though. Like learning to walk again after a bad accident-that's how I learned to live again. How we ALL learned to live again. Slowly and sometimes painfully.
If you knew Erica at all, you knew she loved the Lord. You'd know that, although she might have been a little sad to leave us behind, if she'd known she would be going to heaven so soon-she would've been joyful. Especially in the last 6 or so years of her life, she was a young woman confident in who she was and what she stood for, and who she lived for-Jesus Christ. She definitely wasn't perfect. You may not consider yourself religious at all, and believe me, neither do I. I live to be faithful...as was she. Faithful to the One who gave His life for her long before she died, so she might be with Him in heaven when the time came, instead of lost to eternal darkness. Faithful to the One who loved her so much He used her death to glorify Him-as she would have wanted. She exuded joy and life. And He used her life to show others why she was so joyful.
Her funeral was packed. The entire church was filled with people, young and old, those who believed in God and those who absolutely didn't-but came along to support us, her family. I wore a bright red sundress with little flowers on it, and my mom wore yellow. We knew Erica would've hated the thought of us wearing black. {I've never worn that dress again-neither has my mom} I stood up beside my dad at the podium and read our "traveling Psalm"-hers and mine-Psalm 91. She gave it to me when I got on the plane to Brazil. she was my biggest fan, always. She was literally the first person I saw when I was born-practically shoving the doctor out of her way in her eagerness-and she belived in me. Always, even when I didn't believe in myself. a good friend as well as a sister, even though she was 6 years older than me. When I was 13, she became one of my youth leaders so she could "keep an eye on me"...most people didn't even know we were related. We look pretty much nothing alike, plus she was 5 inches taller than me. As a teenager, we went hiking, out to coffee, out to dinner...she always made time for me. My first visit to the Cheesecake Factory (oh, bliss!) was with her when I was about 15 or so...my parents were out of town, my brother was working or gone (I can't remember), and she had the two of us get all dolled up and took my to 16th street mall and we had a fabulous time. A sister date. When I was a senior in high school, we went snowboarding together whenever we could; sometimes just the two of us, but other times she'd help haul a group of my friends up to the mountain and spend a day on the slopes with a bunch of crazy teenagers. She walked me though some of the darkest days I'd ever had as I struggled with an eating disorder and horrible sense of self-worth. And she cried as she watched me run my last cross-country race my senior year...she was so very proud of me. I never doubted it.
And that's why, although I miss her many other days of the year, I only allow myself to grieve her one day of the year-today. The anniversary of her death. 9 years ago, today...I know she wants me to live- fully and full of joy; not just to exist. I knew this, even though it hurt to breath those first few days. I knew this, as I begged God to heal my hurting family and teach me to live again-living differently now, because I know just how finite life is. And when I grieve, it's really for myself that I grieve-for the things I've lost; the moments we didn't get to share. Like not having her as my maid of honor, like we'd always talked about...but my mom reminded me there was another, very special woman in my life-not just a cousin but a sister of my heart-that God had given me years before Erica died. The only women I'd ever want standing there besides Erica, because she walks with me though everything and was there through all the darkness and back into the light. I focused on the joy of the day, and knew she was there beaming from ear to ear. A clap of the thunder at the beginning of the ceremony was like a special little "hello" from heaven.
I grieve that my husband and children never met Erica-but one day they will. And now it's up to me to let them "know" her through my memories...and I want them to know her as she was, full of life; not just to know about her tragic death. Sometimes I ask God to let her see them, or to tell her about her nephews and niece-I don't know how it all works up there, but it can't hurt to ask, right?
So I choose not to grieve her death-but to celebrate her life. To remember her klutziness, her cabbage-patch-kid face, the way my brother and I could make her laugh 'till she cried. Baking together, running together, living life together....it gives me hope. And although I know it scarred my brother in ways I can't imagine to be there with her that day; to have been the one to make the call; to wonder "what if"-I'm so thankful he was there to help her. That she wasn't alone. God works even in the details..and "He works all things together for good, for those whose HOPE is in Christ Jesus"..I don't know the reference for that, but it's in my heart.
June 29th, 2011: A day of Hope.
It was a beautiful, sunny day.
I was 18 1/2 years old.
I had just graduated from high school a month before, and was looking forward to one last summer of "childhood".
It was the day my sister died.
I've never been able to write about her, before. I mean, I've journaled and talked and thought about her countless times, but I've never been able to write about her before. At least, not about the day she died. But today....something keeps nagging at me. Something whispering I need to write about her, about that day and all the days that followed after it, and I need to do it now.
So I am-or, at least, I'm trying.
You know how you'll always remember exactly where you were when you heard about September 11th? Or the Oklahoma City Bombing, or the Kennedy assassination? {Not that I remember that one...but maybe some of you do!} That's how I remember The Phone Call. My best friend and I were driving down College Avenue on a bright sunny day, headed to our favorite boutique, when my mom called. I remember her telling me my sister was in the hospital and I needed to come home right away so we could get down to Denver, where she was. I remember thinking something serious was happening because of the tone of my mom's voice. But I thought-maybe surgery. Maybe in the hospital for a few days....never did I think she would die. I mean, my friend and I were supposed to go to her place for the fourth of July weekend. She would be fine by then...right?
My parents obviously had a different sense of foreboding. My Dad got us down to Denver as fast as he could; my mom kept calling my brother (who was spending the weekend with her and called the ambulance in the first place) but all he would say was,
"They're still working on her."
Except she was already gone. In the blink of an eye, my tall, blond, beautiful, sunny sister was taken up to be with her Savior. She was 24 and the picture of perfect health...it was unthinkable. {I wish I had a picture to post of her but this was before I had a digital camera, and I still don't have a scanner}
I remember so clearly walking through the ER back to one of those little offices where they take people when they have really bad news to tell them. I had an anklet on with little silver bells all over it, like Indian dancers wear, and the sound of it jingling was all I could hear the whole way back....a chaplain was there, along with my brother and my parents' good friends from forever. I remember wondering how they'd gotten there...and then I remember the man saying something like, "I'm sorry," and seeing my mom start to cry but I didn't understand, didn't want to understand, couldn't understand, and so I asked him desperately, "Is she dead??"
And he just nodded.
And I became numb.
She died of a coronary embolism, a blood clot that probably started in her leg, broke off, and went directly to her heart. We were told they did everything they could to save her-I didn't want to know what that meant. Still don't, although I have a cousin who worked as an EMT who could tell me, I'm sure. We found out later through blood testing that we have a genetic condition call hyperhomosystemia, which basically causes our blood to clot more easily than average. It's not as rare as you'd think...couple that with the birth control pills she was taking for bad cramps, and the combination was horribly tragic. It's one of the reasons I've never touched hormonal birth control and am so emphatic about my friends getting their blood tested for the condition if they are going to use any form of hormonal birth control-losing one person this way is more than enough.
Losing my sister was tragic.
I don't remember how we got home that evening. I don't remember a lot about the first weeks after her death. I do remember how horrible that first night was. And I remember the sound of my mother crying.
I had to grow up in a hurry-like overnight. I had to learn to comfort those who had always been there to comfort me-my parents-as I watched them grieve the death of their firstborn. Losing a best friend is bad enough; losing a sister is tragic. I can only now, as a mother myself, begin to imagine the pain my parents went thorough. It's not the way things are "supposed" to be-the child dying before the parent.
It's the first and last time I ever slept in their bed all night long. Comforting them as they comforted me.
I can't stop there, though. As easy as it would be to make this post about her death, about grief, about how our family shifted and changed for years before we finally found our new places-I can't. I have to write about the hope of Erica's death.
Because there is hope....
"...weeping may endure for a night, but Joy comes in the morning," Psalm 30:5
and I know this to be true, because I've lived it. Joy didn't come in happy days and laughter right away; although there was perhaps to some a scandalous amount of laughter in that house the week before Erica's funeral. How could we laugh, you ask, when my devastatingly young sister had just tragically died?
Because of hope.
"for I know the plans I have for you, says the LORD; plans to prosper you and not to harm you; plans to give you HOPE and a future," Jeremiah 29:11
Everywhere we turned that week there were whispers of heaven. A dollar bill at the checkout with the above verse written on it. An angel's touch felt in her bedroom. A dream I had, talking to my sister...my cousin sleeping in the same room listened to me talk to her in my sleep. An anklet we made to remember her, with a little heart and a little cross charm on it-and then my mom finding a gold necklace {my sister's when she was little} with a little heart and a little cross charm on it. There are more, so many more....but perhaps the loudest whisper was that of the still, small voice in my heart telling me to Live.
It wasn't the same kind of living I'd done before, though. Like learning to walk again after a bad accident-that's how I learned to live again. How we ALL learned to live again. Slowly and sometimes painfully.
If you knew Erica at all, you knew she loved the Lord. You'd know that, although she might have been a little sad to leave us behind, if she'd known she would be going to heaven so soon-she would've been joyful. Especially in the last 6 or so years of her life, she was a young woman confident in who she was and what she stood for, and who she lived for-Jesus Christ. She definitely wasn't perfect. You may not consider yourself religious at all, and believe me, neither do I. I live to be faithful...as was she. Faithful to the One who gave His life for her long before she died, so she might be with Him in heaven when the time came, instead of lost to eternal darkness. Faithful to the One who loved her so much He used her death to glorify Him-as she would have wanted. She exuded joy and life. And He used her life to show others why she was so joyful.
Her funeral was packed. The entire church was filled with people, young and old, those who believed in God and those who absolutely didn't-but came along to support us, her family. I wore a bright red sundress with little flowers on it, and my mom wore yellow. We knew Erica would've hated the thought of us wearing black. {I've never worn that dress again-neither has my mom} I stood up beside my dad at the podium and read our "traveling Psalm"-hers and mine-Psalm 91. She gave it to me when I got on the plane to Brazil. she was my biggest fan, always. She was literally the first person I saw when I was born-practically shoving the doctor out of her way in her eagerness-and she belived in me. Always, even when I didn't believe in myself. a good friend as well as a sister, even though she was 6 years older than me. When I was 13, she became one of my youth leaders so she could "keep an eye on me"...most people didn't even know we were related. We look pretty much nothing alike, plus she was 5 inches taller than me. As a teenager, we went hiking, out to coffee, out to dinner...she always made time for me. My first visit to the Cheesecake Factory (oh, bliss!) was with her when I was about 15 or so...my parents were out of town, my brother was working or gone (I can't remember), and she had the two of us get all dolled up and took my to 16th street mall and we had a fabulous time. A sister date. When I was a senior in high school, we went snowboarding together whenever we could; sometimes just the two of us, but other times she'd help haul a group of my friends up to the mountain and spend a day on the slopes with a bunch of crazy teenagers. She walked me though some of the darkest days I'd ever had as I struggled with an eating disorder and horrible sense of self-worth. And she cried as she watched me run my last cross-country race my senior year...she was so very proud of me. I never doubted it.
And that's why, although I miss her many other days of the year, I only allow myself to grieve her one day of the year-today. The anniversary of her death. 9 years ago, today...I know she wants me to live- fully and full of joy; not just to exist. I knew this, even though it hurt to breath those first few days. I knew this, as I begged God to heal my hurting family and teach me to live again-living differently now, because I know just how finite life is. And when I grieve, it's really for myself that I grieve-for the things I've lost; the moments we didn't get to share. Like not having her as my maid of honor, like we'd always talked about...but my mom reminded me there was another, very special woman in my life-not just a cousin but a sister of my heart-that God had given me years before Erica died. The only women I'd ever want standing there besides Erica, because she walks with me though everything and was there through all the darkness and back into the light. I focused on the joy of the day, and knew she was there beaming from ear to ear. A clap of the thunder at the beginning of the ceremony was like a special little "hello" from heaven.
I grieve that my husband and children never met Erica-but one day they will. And now it's up to me to let them "know" her through my memories...and I want them to know her as she was, full of life; not just to know about her tragic death. Sometimes I ask God to let her see them, or to tell her about her nephews and niece-I don't know how it all works up there, but it can't hurt to ask, right?
So I choose not to grieve her death-but to celebrate her life. To remember her klutziness, her cabbage-patch-kid face, the way my brother and I could make her laugh 'till she cried. Baking together, running together, living life together....it gives me hope. And although I know it scarred my brother in ways I can't imagine to be there with her that day; to have been the one to make the call; to wonder "what if"-I'm so thankful he was there to help her. That she wasn't alone. God works even in the details..and "He works all things together for good, for those whose HOPE is in Christ Jesus"..I don't know the reference for that, but it's in my heart.
June 29th, 2011: A day of Hope.
9.13.2010
Shine.
"Dreams are great, and planning is a lot of fun; but God has called us to shine in the mundane."
Our pastor said this during his sermon yesterday, and it grabbed hold of me. Hasn't let go since...shine. in the mundane. not "make it through"; not "excel' ; not "get everything done and be considered the perfect wife/mother/employee/whatever because you made it through your check list". Shine.
What does that MEAN??
That's why it caught my attention.
I love to dream; my husband and I have some big ones, including a certain large, single-story-with-a-loft-and-a-guesthouse-and-trees-and-a-garden-and-a-saline-pool-house-that-would-also-be-a-place-where-pastors-could-rest-and-be-ministered-to (sorry for the Christianese..)..*ahem*. Sorry. Dreaming again.
But shining in the mundane? A little harder. And, I would argue, more important. Because I have a sneaking suspicion that, although the big trips and events of our lives DO shape us to some degree; it's in the little, everyday, mundane things that our character is built. The big things, I think, tend to be more tests of our character. But if you haven't taken the time to BUILD your character; when the big stuff comes-good or bad-you tend to break under pressure. or at the least get super stressed out and forget to enjoy it after all the planning.
I have a little thought buzzing around in my head that shining in the mundane has a lot to with perspective, priorities, and attitude. All of which are up to us, really.
I'm NOT talking about being "happy" (at least on the outside) all the time. I'm NOT talking about pretending everything is ok when it isn't. Neither am I talking about being a "oh, woe is me....I'm being "real", kind of attitude.
It has more to do with your heart.
About where true, unending joy comes from.
About learning what your priorities are
and how to set healthy boundaries.
About understanding that you can only truly excel at maybe 5 things at a time; so you HAVE to say no to some things (or at least, "not right now,") in order to be the best you can be.
For me, those 5 things right now are
1) God. Always...cause if He's not, the rest gets messed up...and I can't do any of the other things very well on my own, anyways.
2) Being the best wife I can be (yes, I do believe that my husband comes before my kids; although sometimes the obvious things like feedings and potty breaks will come first!)
3) Being the best mom I can be (this, I'm learning, depends very much on the first two, with a heaping dose of a good sense of humor and flexibility needed!)
4) Photography (something I love, that I want so badly to develop (ha!) more and get much, much better at)
5) Worship (another passion-not just singing, but becoming better musically, learning a new instrument, and stepping into opportunities as they come...always room to improve)
Here's a secret I'm learning. These things will change during my lifetime (well, the last 2. The others not so much).
Soooo...that's what I'm working on this week. My Priorities. My Perspective. My Attitude. I control all these things...and perhaps, once I have (with God's help, of course...really, I'm pretty useless without it. Especially the attitude part.) gotten these things lined up, I can truly shine in the mundane.
And that would make my life (and hopefully, at least my husband's & my kids', if no one else's..)just a leeetle...well...SHINIER. What about you? What 5 things do YOU want to excel at? And-goodnight!!-HOW do you shine in the mundane?
Our pastor said this during his sermon yesterday, and it grabbed hold of me. Hasn't let go since...shine. in the mundane. not "make it through"; not "excel' ; not "get everything done and be considered the perfect wife/mother/employee/whatever because you made it through your check list". Shine.
What does that MEAN??
That's why it caught my attention.
I love to dream; my husband and I have some big ones, including a certain large, single-story-with-a-loft-and-a-guesthouse-and-trees-and-a-garden-and-a-saline-pool-house-that-would-also-be-a-place-where-pastors-could-rest-and-be-ministered-to (sorry for the Christianese..)..*ahem*. Sorry. Dreaming again.
But shining in the mundane? A little harder. And, I would argue, more important. Because I have a sneaking suspicion that, although the big trips and events of our lives DO shape us to some degree; it's in the little, everyday, mundane things that our character is built. The big things, I think, tend to be more tests of our character. But if you haven't taken the time to BUILD your character; when the big stuff comes-good or bad-you tend to break under pressure. or at the least get super stressed out and forget to enjoy it after all the planning.
I have a little thought buzzing around in my head that shining in the mundane has a lot to with perspective, priorities, and attitude. All of which are up to us, really.
I'm NOT talking about being "happy" (at least on the outside) all the time. I'm NOT talking about pretending everything is ok when it isn't. Neither am I talking about being a "oh, woe is me....I'm being "real", kind of attitude.
It has more to do with your heart.
About where true, unending joy comes from.
About learning what your priorities are
and how to set healthy boundaries.
About understanding that you can only truly excel at maybe 5 things at a time; so you HAVE to say no to some things (or at least, "not right now,") in order to be the best you can be.
For me, those 5 things right now are
1) God. Always...cause if He's not, the rest gets messed up...and I can't do any of the other things very well on my own, anyways.
2) Being the best wife I can be (yes, I do believe that my husband comes before my kids; although sometimes the obvious things like feedings and potty breaks will come first!)
3) Being the best mom I can be (this, I'm learning, depends very much on the first two, with a heaping dose of a good sense of humor and flexibility needed!)
4) Photography (something I love, that I want so badly to develop (ha!) more and get much, much better at)
5) Worship (another passion-not just singing, but becoming better musically, learning a new instrument, and stepping into opportunities as they come...always room to improve)
Here's a secret I'm learning. These things will change during my lifetime (well, the last 2. The others not so much).
Soooo...that's what I'm working on this week. My Priorities. My Perspective. My Attitude. I control all these things...and perhaps, once I have (with God's help, of course...really, I'm pretty useless without it. Especially the attitude part.) gotten these things lined up, I can truly shine in the mundane.
And that would make my life (and hopefully, at least my husband's & my kids', if no one else's..)just a leeetle...well...SHINIER. What about you? What 5 things do YOU want to excel at? And-goodnight!!-HOW do you shine in the mundane?
7.28.2010
Diary of a (pre)med-student('s wife)
I'm tired. So very, very tired...but why? My kids actually slept well last night (well, except for that wetting-the-bed incident). Maybe it has something to do with the 84,395 million things running through my head, which I tell myself I MUST somehow get done before we move next Tuesday (which include but are not limited to packing the house, final editing of the wedding I shot 2 weeks ago, and doing laundry, as well as working out. Although somehow, that one isn't working out (ha!) so well right now) I'm sitting at my computer, listening to Pax yell out every excuse in the book to get out of bed...a new trick in the past couple of weeks. And so very annoyingly frustrating..I keep telling myself that it's because of all the transitions going on; because he's a very strong-willed little guy and is head-deep in 2-year-old testing; because he (like most toddlers) doesn't like change and no matter that he's very smart and understands what's going on-he's still 2. Doesn't completely get it. So I need to have patience, and grace, for him. For myself. But sometimes...well, it's hard. Trying to keep him quite from naptime to actually asleep is the biggest challenge lately, but important, because our bedroom shares a wall with his and Adam is just on the other side of that wall trying to sleep. Of course, my son doesn't care about this and would rather wake Daddy up to play, nevermind that he worked all night and got home at 7:30 am. What does this have to do with being the wife of a pre-med student?
Well, nothing.
Except that the whole pre-med thing is why our schedule is like this; why my husband works at a hospital; why we're up in Ft. Fun again in the first place.
We're moving next week, into our own place, exactly a year after we thought we'd be moving out of my folks' home. It's been a year of learning to wait.
I'm not good at waiting. Or being patient.
But I AM better at it than I was a year ago (thankfully! or my husband might be in Hawaii right now...). And I'm getting a (very small) taste of what our life will be like for the next-oh, I don't know-maybe 8 years? Maybe more. Maybe less.
The moving, the studying, the crazy hours at the hospital that keep changing, the kids re-adjusting to the new schedule in time for it to change again...
and I'm ok with it. Really, truly ok with it. The schedule-crazy-kid-thing I'm still trying to figure out, as far as how to make it go smoother each time, but I figure by the time we get to the end of this journey I'll be a pro at it! Ready to take on any schedule they throw at us. And the moving thing? I actually like moving...it's an adventure, even if it's just across town. It's just the packing part I don't like. Well, and the part where my son gets so anxious (because, again, he gets it but he doesn't) that he flips out about his hands being wet. Or dirty. I can't remember which it was...oh, that's right, he flipped out because his hands were dirty, and THEN flipped out because they were wet. You know, after we washed them.
But the moving thing-I like it! We're actually enjoying the roulette game that will be moving for med (or D.O., or P.A., or whatever it ends up being) school because both of us have lived for most of our lives in Colorado. I do, however, understand why the boy doesn't like it; last time we moved, we told him he'd see all his friends and family in D-town again-but he thought we meant in like 3 days. Not 3 months. So, he's understandably a little worried about when he'll get to see Grammy and Grandaddy again.
I'm trying to figure out where I'm going with this.
I think this sums it up though--the Thankgiving before we moved to Ft. Fun, I spent a morning praying for my husband (which I do often-for him, and lots of other people, too). God gave me a word picture for him of a tree at dawn, maybe 10 years old, bare spring branches except for a few buds that were beginning to appear. Along with it came the verse Psalm 27:14
"Wait on the Lord; be Strong, take heart, and Wait on the Lord,"
I painted it for him as a Christmas present, and it hangs (well, hung; since I've already packed all the decorating stuff) on the wall in our bedroom. And every time this year, as jobs fell through, as school got crazy, as a new baby's birth approached, as decisions need to be made about when and where and how, we see it and read it-and it calms our anxious hearts. My anxious heart. And we've waited. And we wait. Not sitting and doing nothing, mind you-we try to make the most of each day we're given, and not live in expectation of what "might be" or "could have been". Just waiting on the Lord; taking our courage from him, our rest from Him. 'Cause I'm pretty sure (ok, I KNOW) I can't do this without Him. Which is a very, very good thing.
Well, nothing.
Except that the whole pre-med thing is why our schedule is like this; why my husband works at a hospital; why we're up in Ft. Fun again in the first place.
We're moving next week, into our own place, exactly a year after we thought we'd be moving out of my folks' home. It's been a year of learning to wait.
I'm not good at waiting. Or being patient.
But I AM better at it than I was a year ago (thankfully! or my husband might be in Hawaii right now...). And I'm getting a (very small) taste of what our life will be like for the next-oh, I don't know-maybe 8 years? Maybe more. Maybe less.
The moving, the studying, the crazy hours at the hospital that keep changing, the kids re-adjusting to the new schedule in time for it to change again...
and I'm ok with it. Really, truly ok with it. The schedule-crazy-kid-thing I'm still trying to figure out, as far as how to make it go smoother each time, but I figure by the time we get to the end of this journey I'll be a pro at it! Ready to take on any schedule they throw at us. And the moving thing? I actually like moving...it's an adventure, even if it's just across town. It's just the packing part I don't like. Well, and the part where my son gets so anxious (because, again, he gets it but he doesn't) that he flips out about his hands being wet. Or dirty. I can't remember which it was...oh, that's right, he flipped out because his hands were dirty, and THEN flipped out because they were wet. You know, after we washed them.
But the moving thing-I like it! We're actually enjoying the roulette game that will be moving for med (or D.O., or P.A., or whatever it ends up being) school because both of us have lived for most of our lives in Colorado. I do, however, understand why the boy doesn't like it; last time we moved, we told him he'd see all his friends and family in D-town again-but he thought we meant in like 3 days. Not 3 months. So, he's understandably a little worried about when he'll get to see Grammy and Grandaddy again.
I'm trying to figure out where I'm going with this.
I think this sums it up though--the Thankgiving before we moved to Ft. Fun, I spent a morning praying for my husband (which I do often-for him, and lots of other people, too). God gave me a word picture for him of a tree at dawn, maybe 10 years old, bare spring branches except for a few buds that were beginning to appear. Along with it came the verse Psalm 27:14
"Wait on the Lord; be Strong, take heart, and Wait on the Lord,"
I painted it for him as a Christmas present, and it hangs (well, hung; since I've already packed all the decorating stuff) on the wall in our bedroom. And every time this year, as jobs fell through, as school got crazy, as a new baby's birth approached, as decisions need to be made about when and where and how, we see it and read it-and it calms our anxious hearts. My anxious heart. And we've waited. And we wait. Not sitting and doing nothing, mind you-we try to make the most of each day we're given, and not live in expectation of what "might be" or "could have been". Just waiting on the Lord; taking our courage from him, our rest from Him. 'Cause I'm pretty sure (ok, I KNOW) I can't do this without Him. Which is a very, very good thing.
5.28.2010
Got Milk?
*Disclaimer...don't read this if words like nursing, breastmilk, or miracle freak you out*
'Cause I do. A whole freezer shelf (going on 2!) of it. I produce a lot of milk, I must pump AT LEAST 4 ounces every morning just to be comfortable, and I can't bear to toss it. I feel guilty. So I've been freezing it...way, way more than baby girl will need, even if I shot a wedding every weekend. Which I don't. So a few weeks ago, I decided I needed to do something useful with it....I have a friend who's been on bed rest with her 2nd for 4 1/2 weeks...offered it to her for their little guy if he came too early and needed it in the NICU. But God is sooooo good, that she's make it to 36 weeks!! (seriously, this is a miracle!) and so the little guy should be able to nurse on his own when he comes (please, pray with me that he holds on a few more weeks!). SO I looked into milk banks. Do you know what they charge PER OUNCE for breast milk?? $2.25. AN OUNCE. Plus some other random .25cent fee that I don't know exactly what it's for, because I didn't pay that much attention when I read it. Really? 2.25 an ounce?? Starbuc*s doesn't even charge that much!! And (not that I would be looking to be paid) the donors don't get anything. I decided I'd much, much rather GIVE the milk to someone who needed it ( I mean, I make it for free), preferably someone I knew...but how do you know when a baby will need it? I began to think of all the women I knew who were preggo....and then. It hit me. I remembered a friend from D-town whose family is adopting very soon, a birth-mother situation, who would be bringing the baby home with them from the hospital...on a chance, I wrote what felt like a very awkward note to her on Facebook (have YOU ever tried to write someone a note offering them your breastmilk? I mean, how do you even START that?? It's not like this woman is my best friend, and I could just be like "hey, so you want my milk?"), offering them my store of breastmilk. I had NO idea what she'd think when she read it, if she'd think it was weird, if she'd be open to it...so imagine my joy when I opened her (very excited!) message and read that my offer is an answer to prayer for them! Who would have thought breast milk could answer prayers?? WEll, GOD answers prayers. But this time He did it through my breast milk. How flippin' cool is that?? the woman told me she'd been very upset, thinking she wouldn't be able to provide their little one with milk...that she'd contemplated pumping, but knew with her schedule & the lack of preggo hormones (she's a photographer, too) it just wouldn't work for her; that they'd looked into buying it from a milk bank but just couldn't afford it...so, long story short, I'll be sending her a big shipment of frozen milk early next week, and any extra I pump from now on (aside from a few bottles for B) will be saved for them, too. I feel so completely blessed and blown away by this...the orchestration God has done to make sure their new little one could have milk at the start of her life...and I can't stop thanking Him that I have milk. And that, for some compulsive reason, I've saved every drop I've pumped. He knew. And it's just so cool that I can't get over it!! He cares SO MUCH about EACH of us...sometimes I think I can grasp that, and then something like this happens, and I'm blown away again by His love for me-for you- for all of us. Don't ever think anything is too big or too little to pray about-He cares enough to answer prayers about breast milk!!
P.S. Do wet nurses still exist? maybe I could get a job? Pretty sure they'd pay really well; I mean...$2.25 an OUNCE??? ....a new calling in life perhaps? :)
'Cause I do. A whole freezer shelf (going on 2!) of it. I produce a lot of milk, I must pump AT LEAST 4 ounces every morning just to be comfortable, and I can't bear to toss it. I feel guilty. So I've been freezing it...way, way more than baby girl will need, even if I shot a wedding every weekend. Which I don't. So a few weeks ago, I decided I needed to do something useful with it....I have a friend who's been on bed rest with her 2nd for 4 1/2 weeks...offered it to her for their little guy if he came too early and needed it in the NICU. But God is sooooo good, that she's make it to 36 weeks!! (seriously, this is a miracle!) and so the little guy should be able to nurse on his own when he comes (please, pray with me that he holds on a few more weeks!). SO I looked into milk banks. Do you know what they charge PER OUNCE for breast milk?? $2.25. AN OUNCE. Plus some other random .25cent fee that I don't know exactly what it's for, because I didn't pay that much attention when I read it. Really? 2.25 an ounce?? Starbuc*s doesn't even charge that much!! And (not that I would be looking to be paid) the donors don't get anything. I decided I'd much, much rather GIVE the milk to someone who needed it ( I mean, I make it for free), preferably someone I knew...but how do you know when a baby will need it? I began to think of all the women I knew who were preggo....and then. It hit me. I remembered a friend from D-town whose family is adopting very soon, a birth-mother situation, who would be bringing the baby home with them from the hospital...on a chance, I wrote what felt like a very awkward note to her on Facebook (have YOU ever tried to write someone a note offering them your breastmilk? I mean, how do you even START that?? It's not like this woman is my best friend, and I could just be like "hey, so you want my milk?"), offering them my store of breastmilk. I had NO idea what she'd think when she read it, if she'd think it was weird, if she'd be open to it...so imagine my joy when I opened her (very excited!) message and read that my offer is an answer to prayer for them! Who would have thought breast milk could answer prayers?? WEll, GOD answers prayers. But this time He did it through my breast milk. How flippin' cool is that?? the woman told me she'd been very upset, thinking she wouldn't be able to provide their little one with milk...that she'd contemplated pumping, but knew with her schedule & the lack of preggo hormones (she's a photographer, too) it just wouldn't work for her; that they'd looked into buying it from a milk bank but just couldn't afford it...so, long story short, I'll be sending her a big shipment of frozen milk early next week, and any extra I pump from now on (aside from a few bottles for B) will be saved for them, too. I feel so completely blessed and blown away by this...the orchestration God has done to make sure their new little one could have milk at the start of her life...and I can't stop thanking Him that I have milk. And that, for some compulsive reason, I've saved every drop I've pumped. He knew. And it's just so cool that I can't get over it!! He cares SO MUCH about EACH of us...sometimes I think I can grasp that, and then something like this happens, and I'm blown away again by His love for me-for you- for all of us. Don't ever think anything is too big or too little to pray about-He cares enough to answer prayers about breast milk!!
P.S. Do wet nurses still exist? maybe I could get a job? Pretty sure they'd pay really well; I mean...$2.25 an OUNCE??? ....a new calling in life perhaps? :)
3.07.2010
What would you do...
...if you knew you couldn't fail? One of my Fac*book buddies had this as her status today. It truly made me think. Know what my first thought was? "I'm doing them,". Or, at least, I'm doing a lot of them. Not perfectly. Not exactly the way that I had envisioned them. Not without the possibility of failure, and, along with that, more than a little motivation, and a lot of room for improvement. But I have a secret :
I can do all things thru CHRIST who strengthens me. (Phil. 4:13...my life verses, by the way, since I was 12. And believe me, the "all things" has included some doozys!)
So I listen. I pray. I freak out inside about how crazy scary some of the things my God is asking me (and us, because my marriage and family are two things I definitly would put on the list). And then....
*deep breath!*
I take the first step. and the second. and the third....
What about you? What are the dreams and passions inside of you waiting to break out, except for the fear of failure that keeps them bottled up inside? What is God asking you to do about it?
.......What would you do if you knew you couldn't fail?
I can do all things thru CHRIST who strengthens me. (Phil. 4:13...my life verses, by the way, since I was 12. And believe me, the "all things" has included some doozys!)
So I listen. I pray. I freak out inside about how crazy scary some of the things my God is asking me (and us, because my marriage and family are two things I definitly would put on the list). And then....
*deep breath!*
I take the first step. and the second. and the third....
What about you? What are the dreams and passions inside of you waiting to break out, except for the fear of failure that keeps them bottled up inside? What is God asking you to do about it?
.......What would you do if you knew you couldn't fail?
12.19.2009
It's pretty cool...
....when you see God's promises active in your life. I see this in so many ways; but a few weeks ago, out of the blue, I had one of those revelations...one of those moments that just make you smile and thank God for His goodness! But first, a little intro...when I was about 5 months pregnant with Pax (May 2007), we had a speaker come to our church who prays prophetic words into people's lives A LOT. He came to teach about the prophetic, how to hear God, and at the end of each session, he'd pray for different people, speaking into their lives what God was sharing with him. One night, as I sat in the audience, he picked me out and began to pray over me. He shared several things about the creative talents God has given me, and how He would use them (this guy doesn't really know me...just knows how to listen to God, so he was right on!). One of the things that stuck in my mind was that God would use my pictures..."Your pictures will set people free," were his exact words. I've pondered this for the past two and a half years, praying about what exactly it meant. I paint a little, but couldn't see how anything I painted would set anyone free. At the time, I had no plans to start a photography business or even to move out of Durango; photography was just a hobby I loved to experiment with.
Fast forward a couple of years +. As I ran around this fall, trying to get all the licenses and taxes figured out to make SunflowerEyes Photography a reality, I've known that it couldn't be just about photography. I felt that God wanted me to use this gift He's developing in me; not only to help provide for my family, but for some bigger purpose in His kingdom. I've prayed and thought about what this meant. I felt that God was leading me to tithe (give 10% or more of the money) off of what I earned from the business; I knew it was to go to orphans or children in need. But where? Here in Ft. Collins? The state? There are over 500 orphans available for adoption in Colorado alone...most people just don't know about them, because they're tucked away in foster care. To one of the many families we have relationship with that do long-term missions? I just didn't know. So I continued to pray.
When Adam and I joined our church here, last September, we went through a series of "classes" about the church. At the first one, the senior pastor and his wife shared about themselves, the church, their individual passions. Bonnie (the wife) is very involved with a ministry called UCOUNT. The missionary our church supports in this ministry (it's much, much larger than just our church) is in India, where she has a home for girls/women/children whom she buys out of prostitution or other kinds of slavery, andvteaches them about God, as well as how to live and provide for themselves in other ways. I became intrigued with the ministry...something about it just tugged at my heart. I couldn't stop thinking of all the women, many very young teens or children, who were in sexual slavery and couldn't leave...couldn't stop thinking of the children sold into slavery so their families could survive, or because their parents were promised their children would have a better life. I began to pray about and research whether or not this was the ministry- and in particular, the missionary- God wanted me to give to. One afternoon, a few weeks ago, I was resting on the couch, not even really praying...and the words that had been prayed over me more than 2 years ago came into my head : "Your pictures will set people free,". It all fell together-my photography, stepping out and starting this business, knowing it was about more than just photography...this woman, this missionary, is the one I am to give to out of God's blessing on my life. And she will use the money to LITERALLY set people free!! Free of slavery of the worst kinds...free to know God and love Him...free, free free!! I couldn't believe it! I'm crying as I write this...overwhelmed at how good God is, how faithful to His promises...this is the last meaning I even looked for in the words prayed over me that May night. But it's so wonderfully RIGHT! I will tithe out of my little and have faith that God will do big things in the lives of women and children on the other side of the world...I believe He will use it to set them free. Not only physically free, but also spiritually free to know Him. And someday, maybe, I'll get to meet some of them and show you just who God is setting free through the gift He's given me.
"I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me," Phil. 4:13
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD; " plans to prosper you and not to harm you; to give you a hope and a FUTURE," Jer. 29:11
Fast forward a couple of years +. As I ran around this fall, trying to get all the licenses and taxes figured out to make SunflowerEyes Photography a reality, I've known that it couldn't be just about photography. I felt that God wanted me to use this gift He's developing in me; not only to help provide for my family, but for some bigger purpose in His kingdom. I've prayed and thought about what this meant. I felt that God was leading me to tithe (give 10% or more of the money) off of what I earned from the business; I knew it was to go to orphans or children in need. But where? Here in Ft. Collins? The state? There are over 500 orphans available for adoption in Colorado alone...most people just don't know about them, because they're tucked away in foster care. To one of the many families we have relationship with that do long-term missions? I just didn't know. So I continued to pray.
When Adam and I joined our church here, last September, we went through a series of "classes" about the church. At the first one, the senior pastor and his wife shared about themselves, the church, their individual passions. Bonnie (the wife) is very involved with a ministry called UCOUNT. The missionary our church supports in this ministry (it's much, much larger than just our church) is in India, where she has a home for girls/women/children whom she buys out of prostitution or other kinds of slavery, andvteaches them about God, as well as how to live and provide for themselves in other ways. I became intrigued with the ministry...something about it just tugged at my heart. I couldn't stop thinking of all the women, many very young teens or children, who were in sexual slavery and couldn't leave...couldn't stop thinking of the children sold into slavery so their families could survive, or because their parents were promised their children would have a better life. I began to pray about and research whether or not this was the ministry- and in particular, the missionary- God wanted me to give to. One afternoon, a few weeks ago, I was resting on the couch, not even really praying...and the words that had been prayed over me more than 2 years ago came into my head : "Your pictures will set people free,". It all fell together-my photography, stepping out and starting this business, knowing it was about more than just photography...this woman, this missionary, is the one I am to give to out of God's blessing on my life. And she will use the money to LITERALLY set people free!! Free of slavery of the worst kinds...free to know God and love Him...free, free free!! I couldn't believe it! I'm crying as I write this...overwhelmed at how good God is, how faithful to His promises...this is the last meaning I even looked for in the words prayed over me that May night. But it's so wonderfully RIGHT! I will tithe out of my little and have faith that God will do big things in the lives of women and children on the other side of the world...I believe He will use it to set them free. Not only physically free, but also spiritually free to know Him. And someday, maybe, I'll get to meet some of them and show you just who God is setting free through the gift He's given me.
"I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me," Phil. 4:13
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD; " plans to prosper you and not to harm you; to give you a hope and a FUTURE," Jer. 29:11
9.17.2009
My God is so GREAT...
...so strong and so mighty, there's nothing my God cannot do! This has been running through my head for the past few hours...with the hand motions (ahh...the joys of teaching preschoolers! hand motions to EVERYTHING...right, Jinny??). I just have to tell you this awesome story, but it'll take some background, so hang on. It's good.
For those who don't know, my sister Erica died 7 years ago last June (no, that's not the good part. duh.). It was very sudden, about a month after I finished high school; she was 24 and super healthy. What we DIDN"T know was that she also had a genetic clotting factor called hyperhomosystemia. It causes your body to make more homosystine than it usually would; if your levels are too high, you get blood clots. Combined with the birth control pills she took for bad cramps, it caused a blood clot in her leg which broke off and went straight to her heart. She died very quickly..it was devastating. After the fact, we were all tested for the gene-I have it, my mom has it, my brother has it, my dad has it. Double whammy in the genetic pool. So. What does this mean? I take prenatals all the time, whether preggo or not, because they contain the right mix of B-6, B-12 and folic acid to keep my homosystine levels at a safe range naturally, no drugs needed. Too high=blood clots, too low=too much bleeding. When I became pregnant with Pax, I became adamant about trying to control my levels naturally as long as I could (pregnancy alone has a greater risk for clotting, and we weren't sure what my risks for miscarriage would be with this disorder). I have a good friend with the same blood issues; her doctor immediately put her on blood-thinners for her entire pregnancy (which involved a needle every day...yucky). My doc was great about it, let me take the pre-natals plus extra B-6, B-12, and folic acid, and tested my blood levels each month. They went up a bit, but stayed in the safe range and I was able to control my homosystine levels naturally throughout my whole pregnancy. So, this time, same thing, new doc...and I prayed. I prayed that not only would my levels stay low and to not have to do shots, but that God would somehow REMOVE this issue from my DNA. See, I know my God can do cool stuff like that. I started on the extra pills, and after my first blood test....my doctor thought I had LOW homosystine issues because of the numbers. I stopped taking the extra pills, just to see what happened (too low is bad, too). They stayed low. After my Doc visit today...THEY ARE STILL LOW!! My doctor actually called them "remarkably low", as in, "I don't know why they are so good...with this factor they should have at least gone up a little." But MY GOD!! He has the power to create worlds, calm storms, and change DNA! Now, I haven't gotten a new genetic screen yet...but I believe my all-powerful God is working to heal my body; I see the proof in the numbers, the doctor is surprised...and I know that my God cares enough for me as His child that He listens to my prayers and answers them. Even in things that seem too big (or to small?) to be possible. Won't you celebrate with me?? It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't be able to stop all the vitamins and keep my numbers low...especially when pregnant. Last time it took extra supplements just to keep them in a healthy range. But My God is so Great!!! And my numbers are "remarkably low!!" (see? told ya it was worth the read!)
For those who don't know, my sister Erica died 7 years ago last June (no, that's not the good part. duh.). It was very sudden, about a month after I finished high school; she was 24 and super healthy. What we DIDN"T know was that she also had a genetic clotting factor called hyperhomosystemia. It causes your body to make more homosystine than it usually would; if your levels are too high, you get blood clots. Combined with the birth control pills she took for bad cramps, it caused a blood clot in her leg which broke off and went straight to her heart. She died very quickly..it was devastating. After the fact, we were all tested for the gene-I have it, my mom has it, my brother has it, my dad has it. Double whammy in the genetic pool. So. What does this mean? I take prenatals all the time, whether preggo or not, because they contain the right mix of B-6, B-12 and folic acid to keep my homosystine levels at a safe range naturally, no drugs needed. Too high=blood clots, too low=too much bleeding. When I became pregnant with Pax, I became adamant about trying to control my levels naturally as long as I could (pregnancy alone has a greater risk for clotting, and we weren't sure what my risks for miscarriage would be with this disorder). I have a good friend with the same blood issues; her doctor immediately put her on blood-thinners for her entire pregnancy (which involved a needle every day...yucky). My doc was great about it, let me take the pre-natals plus extra B-6, B-12, and folic acid, and tested my blood levels each month. They went up a bit, but stayed in the safe range and I was able to control my homosystine levels naturally throughout my whole pregnancy. So, this time, same thing, new doc...and I prayed. I prayed that not only would my levels stay low and to not have to do shots, but that God would somehow REMOVE this issue from my DNA. See, I know my God can do cool stuff like that. I started on the extra pills, and after my first blood test....my doctor thought I had LOW homosystine issues because of the numbers. I stopped taking the extra pills, just to see what happened (too low is bad, too). They stayed low. After my Doc visit today...THEY ARE STILL LOW!! My doctor actually called them "remarkably low", as in, "I don't know why they are so good...with this factor they should have at least gone up a little." But MY GOD!! He has the power to create worlds, calm storms, and change DNA! Now, I haven't gotten a new genetic screen yet...but I believe my all-powerful God is working to heal my body; I see the proof in the numbers, the doctor is surprised...and I know that my God cares enough for me as His child that He listens to my prayers and answers them. Even in things that seem too big (or to small?) to be possible. Won't you celebrate with me?? It shouldn't be like this. I shouldn't be able to stop all the vitamins and keep my numbers low...especially when pregnant. Last time it took extra supplements just to keep them in a healthy range. But My God is so Great!!! And my numbers are "remarkably low!!" (see? told ya it was worth the read!)
1.08.2009
Growing pains
I'm hurting inside today...nothing major, just a dull ache. Growing pains. I wonder how things got to this point-and then I remember that just because I'm 25 doesn't mean that friendship gets any easier. I just hope I've learned enough from my past experiences to salvage something this time. A buddy of ours blogged about scars a few weeks ago..how the outside scars we bear can be a metaphor for our inside pain. How, sometimes, we try to cover up the biggest ones because of the way they look to other people...when really, we should perhaps take a page out of a teenage boy's manuel and show them off, talk about them...maybe brag a little..."Man, look at this one! You should have seen me fly off that bike!! It was sweeeet..." We all have the scars. Nothing to be ashamed of-some of mine I'm actually quite proud of, now, because they are the evidence that not only did I go through pain, but God gave me the strength to survive it. Now if I can just remember in the moment to USE what I've learned.
Being real is one of the traits that I value most in people. It wasn't always this way, but I've discovered the gold that realness holds. Sometimes people who are real are misunderstood...seen as abrasive, or rude, or arrogant, or, one of the biggest offenders in "church" world....."not nice". But they are real!! And usually, they are right. Maybe their delivery could use a little polish...but give me someone who is real but a bit crusty any day over someone who is nice but not entirely truthful. If you're both..nice and real, that is..sweet!! However. I have my doubts that if Jesus was walking on earth today, we'd use the term "nice" to describe him. Kind, loving, brutally honest (always), passionate, articulate, wise, compassionate....I don't know about "nice". God, I don't want to be "nice". I want to be like Jesus. Give me the ability to be real with people. To not only show my scars, but to learn from them and use that learning in future situations. Compassion in my speech and actions, wisdom from on high in my head, and the ability to always see people as infinitely precious because you made them. They need no other reason to be loved by me; just as you love me unconditionally because you created me. Thank you, Lord. You are sovereign......
Being real is one of the traits that I value most in people. It wasn't always this way, but I've discovered the gold that realness holds. Sometimes people who are real are misunderstood...seen as abrasive, or rude, or arrogant, or, one of the biggest offenders in "church" world....."not nice". But they are real!! And usually, they are right. Maybe their delivery could use a little polish...but give me someone who is real but a bit crusty any day over someone who is nice but not entirely truthful. If you're both..nice and real, that is..sweet!! However. I have my doubts that if Jesus was walking on earth today, we'd use the term "nice" to describe him. Kind, loving, brutally honest (always), passionate, articulate, wise, compassionate....I don't know about "nice". God, I don't want to be "nice". I want to be like Jesus. Give me the ability to be real with people. To not only show my scars, but to learn from them and use that learning in future situations. Compassion in my speech and actions, wisdom from on high in my head, and the ability to always see people as infinitely precious because you made them. They need no other reason to be loved by me; just as you love me unconditionally because you created me. Thank you, Lord. You are sovereign......
12.05.2008
"Those who soar to the highest highs can also plunge to the lowest lows..." this is from one of the Anne of Green Gables books...I can't remember which one. It just hit me recently that I am one of these people. One of the hopelessly romantic, daydreaming kind who flys up on the wings of a hope, a dream, an idea, an adventure...being fully alive in my dreams and seeing them fullfilled...but I have had many, many a hard crash. I've seen my dreams dashed, my trust cracked, my heart broken (often because I put too much store in someone or something, and ended up with reality) but each time I have learned so much from the coming down. I wouldn't give those crashes up for anything. And instead of keeping my feet on the ground, as you might think such a fall would do, I am simply learning to fly more wisely--on the wings of Eagles. With my Lord as my wings, I will run and not grow weary. I will not fear. There are people in my life who have convinced me, for a time, that soaring is for children. That to try to fly now will lead everyone to laugh at me. But I am learning to believe, as I grow older, that my Lord simply wants to loose the chains of fear and doubt that keep me from flying higher--the things that pull me back down-- and see me soar!
"I can do ALL THINGS through CHRIST who strengthens me." Phillipians 4 :13
11.10.2008
AWAKEN
This past weekend, we had a prophetic conference at our church. I always love these weekends...so here were the highlights for me!
1). Worship. I am blessed to be able to sing on our worship team and even more blessed that God is calling me to a higher level in leading worship (this was actually part of the word that was prayed over me this weekend...exciting and a bit nerve-wracking!). One of the songs I got to lead this weekend was really a prayer, about waiting on the Lord and seeing Him break the chains that bind people-fear, addiction, hatred, loneliness, depression, on and on and on...as I learned this song before the conference, I knew that God had given it to me to sing. I have experianced His freedom in my life--seen the chains broken from many different things holding me back--am still experiencing them--and the joyful rush of the Holy Spirit flowed forth through me as I sang. To see and feel a church full of people worshipping the Lord with awe and passion--I pray and believe that this is what is coming for our church on a weekly basis, to be seen every Sunday, and not just when we have a conference.
2) Words and pictures from God. Before each worship session, the team prayed together. God gave me visions during these times of things happening in Durango and inside our church. Some of them were for others, one for our city, and some just for me-but just the fact that my God loves to talk to me like this is beautiful.
3). Friday night. After the session, we had a meeting for the youth that showed up. Adam and I are over the youth group at our church, and we wanted our kids to be able to experience having a prophetic word prayed over them. We've both experienced this several times in our lives, and it has always helped to guide us, bless us, and encourage us. So after service, we headed next door to our youth room with about 12 kids and a few leaders. I loved hearing God speak to these kids...tears came to my eyes as I listened to the words He spoke to them through Nick. We wrote down what we could while he spoke so the kids could have something to keep and remind them what God is speaking to them. Nick prayed over Adam and I, too...I am always so overwhelmed by God's love and excited by the glimpes of the future He shows me! We did an excercise with the students to practice hearing God's voice. This just confirms in me what I have always known--God speaks to everyone, young, old, male, female. We just have to practice listening, in order to know His voice from the others that invade our lives. God began to speak to me from an early age, both in dreams and in other ways, and I love to see the students we work with experience that, too. They learn to edify each other and let God speak through them to others at school, work, everywhere-and most of them are still young enough they havn't learned to be afraid to speak their minds. I love it!
4.) Sunday night. I know I'm skipping a lot here- and oh, my, there is so much more I could talk about! but in the interest of not making you read for an hour to get to the end...I'm being selective. Sunday night was a "family night", meaning it was just for those dedicated to our church. Nick spoke, as did our pastors, and we as a body dedicated ourselves to praying about things going on in the spiritual realm in our city (and will continue to do so). Afterwords, people stood in line for hours to have Nick pray over them, and as we fellowshipped with everyone my mother-in-law came to talk to Adam and I. What started as a fairly simple conversation soon blossomed into a deep talk between my mother-in-law and I. This may seem pretty mundane to some. But the two of us have never had a talk like this...not in any context. She opened up to me about desires to deepen her spiritual walk, to have the courage to stand for her Savior even if it could mean rejection from some she deeply loves; to have a deeper awareness and sensitivity to things of the Spiritual world but no fear. I thank God for this sweet time with Rebecca...to be able to share a bit of my spiritual walk with her, to be able to encourage her with words God gave me for her, and mostly just to listen. It was apparent she needed another woman to encourage and support her in her walk with God. Deeply in need of fellowship. Although I may not be her first choice, being both her daughter-in-law and not a peer, I was thankful that she still opened up. It was a very sweet time and I know something changed in our relationship last night. At the end of our time, I suggested that she have Nick pray for her, as well. Hesitant at first, she agreed- and the more amazing thing was that my sometimes very teenagerish 14 year old sister in law told her she thought I was right. So I went in line with her, introduced her to Nick (who was excited to meet Adam's mom, since he loves Adam) and wrote down what I could of what he prayed over her. The cool thing was that it was very similar and encouraging in the things we had just talked about. Afterwords she hugged me and thanked me. Out of so many, many beautiful, sweet moments God gave me at the conference, those with my mother-in-law just might have been the sweetest.
1). Worship. I am blessed to be able to sing on our worship team and even more blessed that God is calling me to a higher level in leading worship (this was actually part of the word that was prayed over me this weekend...exciting and a bit nerve-wracking!). One of the songs I got to lead this weekend was really a prayer, about waiting on the Lord and seeing Him break the chains that bind people-fear, addiction, hatred, loneliness, depression, on and on and on...as I learned this song before the conference, I knew that God had given it to me to sing. I have experianced His freedom in my life--seen the chains broken from many different things holding me back--am still experiencing them--and the joyful rush of the Holy Spirit flowed forth through me as I sang. To see and feel a church full of people worshipping the Lord with awe and passion--I pray and believe that this is what is coming for our church on a weekly basis, to be seen every Sunday, and not just when we have a conference.
2) Words and pictures from God. Before each worship session, the team prayed together. God gave me visions during these times of things happening in Durango and inside our church. Some of them were for others, one for our city, and some just for me-but just the fact that my God loves to talk to me like this is beautiful.
3). Friday night. After the session, we had a meeting for the youth that showed up. Adam and I are over the youth group at our church, and we wanted our kids to be able to experience having a prophetic word prayed over them. We've both experienced this several times in our lives, and it has always helped to guide us, bless us, and encourage us. So after service, we headed next door to our youth room with about 12 kids and a few leaders. I loved hearing God speak to these kids...tears came to my eyes as I listened to the words He spoke to them through Nick. We wrote down what we could while he spoke so the kids could have something to keep and remind them what God is speaking to them. Nick prayed over Adam and I, too...I am always so overwhelmed by God's love and excited by the glimpes of the future He shows me! We did an excercise with the students to practice hearing God's voice. This just confirms in me what I have always known--God speaks to everyone, young, old, male, female. We just have to practice listening, in order to know His voice from the others that invade our lives. God began to speak to me from an early age, both in dreams and in other ways, and I love to see the students we work with experience that, too. They learn to edify each other and let God speak through them to others at school, work, everywhere-and most of them are still young enough they havn't learned to be afraid to speak their minds. I love it!
4.) Sunday night. I know I'm skipping a lot here- and oh, my, there is so much more I could talk about! but in the interest of not making you read for an hour to get to the end...I'm being selective. Sunday night was a "family night", meaning it was just for those dedicated to our church. Nick spoke, as did our pastors, and we as a body dedicated ourselves to praying about things going on in the spiritual realm in our city (and will continue to do so). Afterwords, people stood in line for hours to have Nick pray over them, and as we fellowshipped with everyone my mother-in-law came to talk to Adam and I. What started as a fairly simple conversation soon blossomed into a deep talk between my mother-in-law and I. This may seem pretty mundane to some. But the two of us have never had a talk like this...not in any context. She opened up to me about desires to deepen her spiritual walk, to have the courage to stand for her Savior even if it could mean rejection from some she deeply loves; to have a deeper awareness and sensitivity to things of the Spiritual world but no fear. I thank God for this sweet time with Rebecca...to be able to share a bit of my spiritual walk with her, to be able to encourage her with words God gave me for her, and mostly just to listen. It was apparent she needed another woman to encourage and support her in her walk with God. Deeply in need of fellowship. Although I may not be her first choice, being both her daughter-in-law and not a peer, I was thankful that she still opened up. It was a very sweet time and I know something changed in our relationship last night. At the end of our time, I suggested that she have Nick pray for her, as well. Hesitant at first, she agreed- and the more amazing thing was that my sometimes very teenagerish 14 year old sister in law told her she thought I was right. So I went in line with her, introduced her to Nick (who was excited to meet Adam's mom, since he loves Adam) and wrote down what I could of what he prayed over her. The cool thing was that it was very similar and encouraging in the things we had just talked about. Afterwords she hugged me and thanked me. Out of so many, many beautiful, sweet moments God gave me at the conference, those with my mother-in-law just might have been the sweetest.
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