tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-176958922024-03-07T15:57:06.282-08:00Lift Up Your HeartsLift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.comBlogger600125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-84502163236381789332016-03-11T17:35:00.002-08:002016-03-11T17:35:32.159-08:00Almost a man<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was talking with Malachi last night about plans for his 18th Birthday, Graduation, and sending him off to his summer job at a Christian camp. We've had these events on our minds for some time, but now they're really coming up, so it feels very real all of a sudden.<br />
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I'm not ashamed to admit that when I went to bed, I had a little cry. I thought to myself, "it <b>really does</b> go by so fast. SO FAST.<br />
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The thing is, it doesn't seem like that long ago that I graduated from high school. It doesn't feel like that long ago that I met Alif, fell in love with him, married him. So how in the world can my child be a man, ready to actually and literally go out into the world on his own?<br />
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I approached the teenage years with trepidation. I just kept wondering when the other shoe would drop - when this funny, kind, respectful boy would turn into a surly, rebellious young man. Now, people are people, and he could choose to live any which way at any point in his life, but he's about to turn 18 and I'm not being a boastful mom when I say that he is genuinely pleasant. It's sure nothing I've done. He and Graham have been our guinea pigs, and boy have we made some real parenting mistakes along the way. But God hasn't. God tends to those cracked places, molding and shaping his children.<br />
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I'm so thankful for this boy, and for the few days I have left to call him so. I'm filled with wonder at the man he's about to become. He's one of the good ones, and I will watch, prayerfully, gratefully, and with great excitement to see what God has planned for him.<br />
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I love you with a never ending love, son.<br />
Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-40362506843378756072015-12-06T14:35:00.000-08:002015-12-06T14:35:10.688-08:00Thoughts - aka whiningDecember 6, 2015. We're heading into the third Christmas season without my Mom. Most of the time now, I'm fine. I feel the hole she left every single day, and many days I still just can't believe she isn't here. But certain things put me in that very sad, very blue place.<br />
Today I have the house to myself, and I put on the Nutcracker Suite Pandora station. Some things I think will just always remind me of my mom, and the Nutcracker is certainly one of them. So I was folding laundry, and thinking of the many times we went to see the Nutcracker, and how much she loved the ballet, the music, dressing up, and nutcrackers themselves ("nuttus"). Then I started thinking about how I can't believe I'm about to graduate nursing school, and how much I wish she would be there. For whatever reason, my class chose me to give a speech at pinning. All of a sudden, standing there, folding laundry, listening to the nutcracker, I could picture my Mom's face so vividly in the audience at my pinning. Of course she would be crying, but she would be smiling too. She would be so proud. She was always proud of me, as though every little accomplishment was something huge. To her, it was. As a mom of older children now, I can relate. There are so many available choices. So many roads our kids can choose. Every right choice, every step toward God's will, is a cause for celebration. It's a moment that you feel, in your tired mama heart, that the effort is worthwhile. That God is carrying those kids, just like He promises He will. Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-39829110872731113832014-05-30T14:57:00.000-07:002014-05-30T14:57:35.296-07:00Fix My Eyes<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Find faith in the battle<br />
Stand tall but above it all<br />
Fix my eyes on you</i></div>
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<i>-Fix My Eyes, For King and Country </i></div>
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When Alif was sick, my faith was strong. When he was at death's door, my faith was strong. When I spent what appeared to be my last night with him, and I said my goodbyes, told him what I loved about him, laughed about fond memories of our life together, thanked him for our four amazing children, my faith still remained strong. I wasn't angry at God. I wasn't disappointed. I was fearful, for sure, about how my children would fare, what our lives would look like, but I felt so tenderly held in my Father's hands that I had no room to doubt His will.</div>
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When my Mom died, I fell through. God didn't let me go, that much I know, but I just became such a broken person. Almost a year and a half later, I'm still broken. It's hard to put into words though, even within myself, so I really don't talk about the struggles I'm having in my faith. It's not that I'm angry with God. I'm severely disappointed, desperately lonely and very, very sad. I keep telling myself to hold onto my Father, to talk to Him, read His Words to me, to lean into Him to ride out this storm, but I'm just so tired. I can't work up having faith in His plan, I just can't, and I have been completely unable to figure out why. WHY can I not do the very things I know will help so much? </div>
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Today I was driving and the above-referenced song played on the radio. It's like a bit of advice from the current "me" to the younger one. I absolutely love it and when I heard it before, I thought it would make such a neat graduation song for one of my children. Today, as I sang through the chorus, speakers vibrating with the force of volume, I found myself suddenly in tears. God showed me such a clear picture.</div>
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It is like I am holding onto an old, dirty, worn rope, fiercely clinging to . . . my Mom. Fixing my eyes on Him means letting her go, little by little. Every time I release that hold on her, it's as if the grief wound is opened, and my heart bleeds. I know I can trust Him. I know He is good and kind and patient and that above all, He loves me. But my Mom is what I knew in such a tangible way. If I could step outside myself, I would see that letting go of my grip on my Mom would not be an awful, scary fall, because God's hands are right there to catch me, but my flesh just wants what I had. </div>
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It's not a solution, neatly packaged, but when God whispers to my heart, it's a big reminder of how much He cares. </div>
Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-88382819850770202582014-05-10T13:04:00.000-07:002014-05-10T13:04:04.807-07:00Mother's Day II<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Last year, Mother's Day was a living nightmare. I didn't know how to act, how to be, how to breathe. I literally felt crazy. This year, I just feel sad. We learned about grief in class, and my teacher said that when people are really busy and take grieving in bits and pieces, as they have time, the grieving process lasts longer. Well, I am truly thankful that I had to pull on my shoes and get to school immediately, because I might have really been one of those people who can't get out of bed if I hadn't had somewhere I simply must be. <br />
Amazingly, it isn't that often any more that I feel truly sidelined by my grief. It's been a year and four months, and I still cry a few times a week, still miss my Mom more than I can explain, but I am no longer drowning. Sometimes I really get hit, though, and think to myself, "how will I survive this for half of my life?"<br />
I wish I could talk to my Mom about how she felt when Grandma died. I know she was sad, but it had been a long time coming, and Grandma was relatively old. I remember her being sad, but I don't remember her being devastated. I wonder if she was, and just carried on like I am now. I wonder if, in her quiet moments, she wept and felt lonely and wondered if she would ever be the same.<br />
I really never knew how much of my identity was in my Mom. It's interesting how I didn't know that I saw myself through her eyes so much. It's like she made me funny and ambitious and patient because she believed me to be those things.<br />
I think about how she would want me to be. I can just picture it - she'd want me to be in counseling, to know that it's okay to be sad. She would know when the next big event is happening and make sure we got there, whether it was a Beth Moore conference or a special concert. We'd have been on a couple of little trips by now for some reason or another, lying side by side in a hotel somewhere, laughing until we cried and eating everything we shouldn't.<br />
I sometimes look at the picture of my little family at her funeral reception, scrutinizing it to see how much my babies have changed. It's not terribly noticeable yet, but in another couple of years, they'll all be completely different people, and I'll grieve again for the them she never knew. My kids will earn awards at Awana, graduate 8th grade, get their driver's licenses, and I'll celebrate those things without her. It's very lonely.<br />
There's a big learning process coming. I can feel it. I am going to be learning to see myself through my Father's eyes instead of through my mom's. He knows me better than she ever could have, and that's saying a lot. He wants even more for my life than she ever could have, and that too is saying a lot. Soon I will be learning to press further into Him, to really find comfort there under His wing. There's a hope in that, and that gets me through some pretty dark days.<br />
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<br />Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-30925998624328935812014-04-01T21:54:00.001-07:002014-04-02T11:18:08.976-07:00Malachi's 16<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Dear Malachi,<br />
Sixteen years ago today, you made me a mommy! Daddy and I were so excited, nervous and clueless about becoming parents. None of our friends had children yet, and it just felt like this huge new adventure. It WAS! You brought out a love in us we never knew possible. Those first weeks, even though I had you sleeping in a bassinet at the end of our bed, I put the baby monitor right in there with you and the speaker right next to my ear, just so I could hear you breathing. It felt like you were a part of me - because you were!<br />
I remember those first few weeks, I wondered if you were happy, because you just stared at me with a blank expression on your face. Well duh, babies don't learn to smile for a few weeks! When you did, and that big smile beamed up at me, and those blue eyes sparkled, it was like I'd just made the greatest discovery of all time. Everything you did impressed me.<br />
I remember, too, how easily everyone fell in love with you. Grandpa Payne came over every day after work to carry you around for a while, and you'd always fall asleep with your fuzzy little head against his chest. Papa would come rock you on his lunch hour. Grandma Baldwin could not WAIT to show you off to her coworkers - and buy you every darling baby outfit she could get her hands on. Auntie Megan came to babysit and when you pooped, she said it smelled like freshly baked bread. I'm telling you, we just adored you.<br />
And you know? For the first decade of your life, I think a part of me kind of dreaded your teenage years. People are always talking about how hard the teenage years are, so I wondered how you would BE. Plus, I knew that as the teen years approached, my time with you at home with me would grow shorter. And I couldn't bear the thought. At ALL.<br />
But guess what, son. We're halfway through your teen years already, and you truly become more delightful with every passing year. I *love* your teen years. You're funny - witty - smart, handsome, capable, intelligent, dedicated, hard-working.<br />
I always wondered what it would feel like when my children started to become my friend - when the parenting role would start to change a little bit more into friendship. I'll tell you what it feels like. It feels like when I'm having a bad day, and I'm upset, and you're kind. And I look over and think, "that kid is honestly one of my best friends." That's what it's like.<br />
But I still dread that my time with you at home is growing shorter. I still tear up when I think that someday you won't live here. I guess we'll deal with that when the time comes, huh?<br />
For now, my son, Happy Birthday. You are one of the biggest blessings of my entire life, and I love you so very much.<br />
Love,<br />
MomLift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-76164698460268694672013-11-27T16:45:00.001-08:002013-11-27T16:45:43.748-08:00THE Holiday Season<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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People always talk about <i>that </i>holiday season - the first one after losing someone you love. It's supposed to be really hard, you know.<br />
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Well, Megan and I had our first birthdays without our Mom. We share a birthday, Megan 5 years to the day after me, and it's always been <i>quite an event</i>. My Mom was the queen of birthdays - well, events, really. She always dreamed of being an event planner, and she would have been the best. She had Pinterest in her head long before it ever existed. The birthday rolled around, and it was just awful. It was marginally less awful than it could have been since I shared it with my sister, and we clung to one another, understood the pain and the craziness of having our birthdays without her.<br />
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But now here we are, facing our first Thanksgiving and Christmas without our Mom. I've dreaded it since before she died. I mean, last year was pretty darn bad. She was suffering, and we were too, and wondering if she would even <i>be</i> here for Christmas, praying that she would. And she was, but it was not really like Christmas. In a way, I wondered if in a whole year, this might all be easier to face.<br />
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I should have known better. <i>Everything</i> reminds me of the emptiness that I feel without her. The Nutcracker is coming, and we bought tickets. We always went with Mom, and she always took us to dinner and bought the kids each a new "nuttus" to celebrate. The year before last, the last time we went, she bought the entire Nutcracker suite for them. I wonder if she knew then that she might not be around for another performance.<br />
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This would have been our year to have Thanksgiving with my Mom and Christmas with my in-laws. It's strange, to say the least, to have no plans for Thanksgiving day. I really don't care if Wal-Mart is open on Thanksgiving because this year, it's just another day. Maybe I'll go just to get paper towels or dog food or something.<br />
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I wrote out my Christmas planning list and not having my Mom on there was so sad that I haven't even looked at the list again. We're usually just about finished shopping by now, but I just can't hardly go there. I can't fathom celebrating Christ's birth without the one who brought me into the world.<br />
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I remember years ago, when my Mom had gone through a lot of hard life events, she just kind of gave up on Christmas decorating. It was so strange, because all the time we were growing up, she went to so much effort to make our home into a Christmas wonderland. To walk into her home, year after year, and see nary a Christmas tree, was depressing. I can understand now, though. It's so painful to think about having Christmas without my Mom that, if it weren't for my children, I might be tempted myself to just hide under the covers and pretend the holidays weren't happening.<br />
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But you know, there's another side to all of this. Despite how sad we are here without her, she is living with the King of Kings. She has the heavenly perspective that we, as Christians, strive for. She truly would not want this to be a time of sadness and tears, but a time of hopefulness and celebration, a time of closeness with our family and friends. And most of all, she would want us to draw near to our Savior.<br />
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So though I long - ache - for even one hour to sit and talk with my Mom, to laugh with her, to know how she's doing, to tell her how Alif is doing, how we have disability court next week and Malachi just got his learner's permit and Graham has a heart issue that we'll now be monitoring yearly, and how Canaan still sleeps with us at least part of most nights and I love it so much, how nervous and excited I am about starting the nursing program, and on and on and on? I will instead draw near to Jesus. I will pour out my heart to Him and ask Him to carry us through. And because He loves us with a never ending love, He will.<br />
Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-9271915389191240732013-04-23T19:07:00.001-07:002013-04-23T19:07:14.894-07:00GriefGrief is so weird. I knew that before, having been through some tough things in life, and just from reading about it and watching others go through it. Experiencing grief after the loss of my Mom, though, is just plain weird.<br />
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I guess I thought that I would go through the stages in a linear fashion, maybe with some hops forward and back along the way. I did not think I would experience all the stages of grief at the same time for months and months and months. I wonder if it will still be this way years from now.<br />
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Granted, in the first few weeks I felt like I lived in an alternate reality, and I cried all day long. I couldn't even count how many times in a day I would cry. It's not like that now, though: some days I do cry several times, but some I don't cry at all.<br />
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In some ways, it feels like she's still here and I just haven't heard from her in a really long time, so then I will feel kind of irritated at her, but then I'll remember that she's NOT really here and I can't talk to her now and not EVER, and then I feel devastated, and I cry though it, and then I feel a little bit of peace that yeah, she's not here because she's in Heaven and I wouldn't wish her back even if I could, because I couldn't bear to see her go through pain like that again, to watch her waste away, to feel her pulling away from me - but then again I would, because I am so very desperate to feel her near me, to have her advice, to laugh with her, to go on trips with her, to just flat-out KNOW SHE'S HERE.<br />
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Yeah. That's what my brain looks like.<br />
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Grief sucks. And I miss my Mom so much I can't hardly stand it.Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-30631083382248824342013-04-21T21:19:00.000-07:002013-04-21T21:19:00.150-07:00Two years.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Two years have gone by since Alif's illness. It sounds weird to put it that way, because it's not like it was an event that happened and passed and life is back to normal now, but then again it was one of the biggest events of our lives.<br />
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Today is Alif's Birthday. It's impossible to celebrate his Birthday without remembering this day two years ago. We decorated his hospital room, read him cards (looking exactly as he did in that picture above, no response at ALL), a nurse bought him a cupcake (which sat, untouched, for well over a week when we finally had to throw it away).<br />
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But that night the neurologist had sobering words: Alif would not survive.<br />
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There's no way I can explain what that night was like. I knew then that I needed to gather up my courage, trust in the Lord like never before, and make the most of my last weekend with my husband. The neurologist said we would reevaluate on Monday, and that at that time we would need to make some decisions. Basically, he was saying that we would turn off his life support and he would not be likely to live after that.<br />
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It boggles my mind that my expectations for my husband went from
everything to nothing in no time flat - I mean, the idea that he could
live at all - even as a vegetable - was so hopeful. So coming from that point of view, it is amazingly, breathtakingly remarkable to see the man that he is now. He can do so many things! In fact, if you don't know him very well, you could probably spend quite a bit of time with him and not notice any lingering effects from the strokes that he suffered.<br />
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But they're there.<br />
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There's no need to go into his deficits here and now. It's his birthday, after all! But I ask that if you think of us, please pray. There is so much missing for Alif, and so much pressure on me, that life is definitely not easy.<br />
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Alif. I love you so very, very much.Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-6538705266408819292013-03-03T09:21:00.003-08:002013-03-03T09:21:27.311-08:00Things have changed and that's for sure<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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August 12, 2012 was my last post. That was also the end of life as I knew it and a harsh introduction to the most heartbreaking time of my life.<br />
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One of my last posts was about Malachi's 8th grade graduation. That was kind of a milestone day in my Mom's health because though she was hosting his graduation party at her community center, and though she attended his graduation, she was unable to come to the party. She didn't feel well, and I think most of us very close to her knew that something wasn't right. And deep down, if we knew something wasn't right, we knew that it had to do with cancer. After all, for the last 18 years, that word has been in the back of our minds, if not at the very forefront. It just never felt like something that was Over and Done With. It lurked - both figuratively and, as we now know, literally.<br />
<br />
We tended to symptoms long before we knew that cancer had taken over. Many, many trips to doctors, surgeons, emergency rooms, urgent care, all in the name of pain management, never facing the real problem, because the real problem was too big to face. Finally we knew, though. It was back, and it wasn't curable. Still, we were pretty hopeful at first (well, perhaps it was really all denial). God was so gracious. Things moved only as fast as the three of us (Mom, Megan and I) could handle them. For a disease that had taken over so much of her body, she functioned well at first. Then not so well, and finally, not independently at all, until on January 9, 2013 at 6:15am, she took her final breath and traveled home to her Father - and her mother and father and so many others who had gone before.<br />
<br />
It's been almost two months now and it still doesn't feel quite real sometimes. I can again see God's grace, because there have been a few times that it's all felt SO real and SO permanent that I literally have to catch my breath; panic threatens to consume and I cry out to God. Which, let's face it, is what I should be doing every moment of every day.<br />
<br />
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Writing is therapeutic for me, but what's in my heart is so raw right now. It's not full of optimism and gratitude, though those things exist alongside the darkness, loneliness, panic, desperation, self-pity, sadness. I'm just warning you, those few who may see this, that I want to track what's going on so I can look back on it all someday, but I don't want to have to censor my thoughts, so it's gonna get real up in here. You've been warned. ;-)Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-55842149126352782192012-08-21T23:02:00.000-07:002012-08-21T23:06:07.246-07:00Quiet TimeWe have always had a well-established napping routine in our home. I worked hard to get my second child into a one-nap-a-day routine as quickly as possible so that both of my boys would sleep at the same time each day. I needed this to happen so that we weren't stuck at home all day with one boy or the other sleeping, but I also needed to have a couple of hours alone. A couple hours of NOT nursing someone, changing someone's diapers, answering questions or cries.<br />
<br />
Those boys went on to nap solidly into their sevens, as did their sister after them. Then came Canaan. By the time Canaan was born, I only had one napping child. The oldest children were well out of naps, but I'd kept the routine going anyway, calling it Quiet Time. At 1:00 every SINGLE day, all children filed into bedrooms, and they stayed there quietly until 3:00 (or later, if they'd fallen asleep).<br />
<br />
But as Canaan grew, the older kids got older. They didn't need quiet time any more. They were mature enough to manage their needs on their own. They knew to seek solitude as necessary. And at the same time, I didn't need quiet time either. My children weren't asking nonstop questions. When the baby cried, a big brother tended to him at least as often as I did. The household was running itself pretty smoothly and the demands on Mommy were fewer, even though there were twice as many children.<br />
<br />
Around four or so, Canaan stopped needing daily naps. He is not an introvert and does not need time alone like my older boys did. He functioned well throughout the day with no nap and no quiet time. Our 13-year Quiet Time tradition tapered off and finally came to a stop altogether.<br />
<br />
A couple days ago, my house seemed too quiet. We were finished with schoolwork, so the dining room table was cleared off and wiped down. I looked around and didn't see any children at all. I started to wander around, wondering where everyone had gone. I found each one doing something either on their own or with a sibling - one listening to music, a couple watching a movie on an iPod, one reading. I gazed at my brand-new high school freshman and thought about how many of those Quiet Times I might like to have back now that I only have a few years left with him under my wing. I considered how valid that need was at the time, how poignant it had been to realize that we were all doing fine without it, and how bittersweet it is to know that now, I truly do not crave "me time". I have a different perspective now. If my 5-year-old climbs on my lap at the exact moment I was hoping to do something alone, I guide his little head back onto my chest and whisper how happy I am that he's mine.<br />
<br />
Because in a very few short years, I'll wish I could do that just one more time.Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-35172160642727313602012-05-30T22:15:00.001-07:002012-05-30T22:15:46.900-07:00Malachi's 8th Grade Graduation<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've always kind of wondered what the big deal is about an 8th grade graduation. Well, maybe not always - I mean, I did really like my Jessica McClintock lacy pink dress when I graduated 8th grade - but as a Mom, watching my friends' kids graduate, I didn't understand all the fuss. It's not the end of anything, you know? They're just moving up a grade. No biggie.<br />
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Until tonight. We've been planning Malachi's 8th grade graduation party all day, trying to get everything ready, and it's been a busy day. I'm tired and I have a headache. And once everyone went to bed and I was alone with my thoughts, I realized: it is indeed a big deal. My son no longer needs his pull-toy dog on the desk and he no longer plays on nickjr.com. When he sits down with a book he actually knows how to read it. He doesn't point at the pictures and tell a fantastical story any more. <br />
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He's well-equipped, this young man. He's ready for high school. His heart is sold out for the Lord and he's going to make a mark on the world, wherever God leads him.<br />
<br />
The thing is, after tomorrow he'll officially be a high school student. He'll be a for-real teenager. And yeah, he'll always be my son, but he's growing his wings a little more every day. In a few short years he'll be ready for liftoff.<br />
<br />
"I'll have tears as you take off<br />
But I'll cheer as you fly."<br />
<br />
I love you, son. Happy graduation.Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-25656096382299050932012-04-13T11:58:00.000-07:002012-04-13T11:58:13.237-07:00AnniversariesI'm not usually big on anniversaries of life events. I mean, I love celebrating birthdays and wedding anniversaries and things, but when it comes to some big life happening, I don't usually remember that such and so happened on such and such a date.<br />
<br />
But there are a few dates that are engraved on my heart for all time.<br />
April 13, 2011 - Alif came home sick<br />
April 16, 2011 - took him to the hospital<br />
April 17, 2011 - intubated and sedated<br />
April 19, 2011 - 1st surgery<br />
April 21, 2011 - told he would not survive his strokes<br />
May 5, 2011 - 2nd surgery<br />
May 26, 2011 - trip to USC<br />
June 2, 2011 - 3rd surgery<br />
June 21, 2011 - home!<br />
<br />
Today feels huge to me. To picture life one year ago, to know that on that morning I said goodbye and good day to my husband as he drove off to work, had lunch with him a little later, and then welcomed him home as a very sick man within just a few hours - it's unbelievable. We just get so used to life as we know it, and though we know intellectually that it could all change in the blink of an eye, we sure never expect that to happen.<br />
<br />
This past year has been the hardest of my life. I have never experienced such anxiety, worry, fear, desperation, longing, loneliness, instability, panic.<br />
<br />
But it's also been the most rich year. I have never experienced such closeness with my Father, love from family and friends that was absolutely unending, dependency on God that was literally moment by moment some days, an almost physical covering of prayer. I have had a front-row seat as a witness of God's miraculous power. I have seen him carry us through days that felt like they would never end.<br />
<br />
I love you, Lord. I love you, Alif. And to my family and friends who walked every step of it with us, and especially to those who continue to walk this insane path with us, I literally cannot thank you enough. I have tears in my eyes as I write, because there is a depth of gratitude that I feel physically but could not possibly put into words. I love you. I love you. I love you.Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-76149135918363696342012-03-02T14:39:00.000-08:002012-03-02T14:39:47.917-08:00I watch my babyI stand out in the beautiful springtime sun and watch my baby, and he's five. He's five and he's running lap after lap around the yard, stopping each time to leap over a toddler slide toppled over. He's wearing the same outfit he did yesterday and the day before that. Skinny jeans, "because some of my pants are weird, Mama, but these pants are cool." and a lime green hooded shirt, and headphones. He brings me the headphones every time one of his favorite songs come on because he loves it so much he wants Mama to hear it too. But not right now. Right now he's running, and his arms are swinging, and he looks five. He presses his lips together in work and concentration, eyes on the grass in front of his feet.<br />
<br />
Then he catches my eye, and I'm smiling proudly at him, and - there it is! That precious-boy smile starts from the middle and stretches out. His sparkly brown eyes crinkle and the dimples crease deeply. And he runs again, and again, looking each time to see if I'm watching, and of course I am. I open my arms wide and he runs and jumps and there he is, my little baby boy, cuddled in my arms with his face nuzzled against my neck. "Am I a good runner, Mama?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, son. You sure are!"Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-72648023601174036572012-01-18T15:51:00.000-08:002012-01-18T15:51:06.865-08:00Sometimes it happens<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJLkNW8NCytsfYfabWBjF19Dq8nfBE3xK6P_Wns0GyEi8eV006b6knLA1BYdZ3MVYJBAfW3ZjZx06jVp0rmthl5_HzGzjRiW_PYY6mZ5wmDOAmxjYqynNYyrSbFozu-U4z64W/s1600/dre_wavelinepm_sm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuJLkNW8NCytsfYfabWBjF19Dq8nfBE3xK6P_Wns0GyEi8eV006b6knLA1BYdZ3MVYJBAfW3ZjZx06jVp0rmthl5_HzGzjRiW_PYY6mZ5wmDOAmxjYqynNYyrSbFozu-U4z64W/s1600/dre_wavelinepm_sm.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
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</tbody></table> When Alif was in the hospital, I spent many hours staring at his monitors. In the first weeks the numbers were frightening: they were constantly changing, alarms were going off regularly, and we'd learned enough to know what his numbers <i>should </i>be that when they weren't, we were afraid. Most of the time things stayed pretty even. He was in critical condition (even grave at times), but mostly the numbers stayed kinda sorta where they should be.<br />
<br />
That's a little like the way life is right now emotionally. We're settling in to life in our "new normal" and for the most part, even though things kind of stink a lot of the time, the emotional barometer stays pretty even. There are even days now and then that feel pretty darn easy. We laugh and talk and enjoy each other as a family, the sun is shining, and we're appreciating everything we have. There are other times that feel harder. We feel the impact of our losses more deeply or a new loss pops up or something that has seemed okay until now suddenly feels permanent and that can be hard to deal with. But mostly, we just carry on. Day after day, step after step, we just - do.<br />
<br />
But every now and then it hits. Something comes out of nowhere. I remember one of the early days of Alif's illness last April, I was in his room in the ICU and all I had to go by were those numbers on the monitor. I had grown used to alarms going off, so when the blood pressure alarm sounded I was on edge but not worried. His nurse wasn't around but I was sure she would hear the alarm and come adjust something and the numbers would go back to where they should be. 80/70 . . . 68/65 . . . oh my, I wasn't thinking this was a good sign and I poked my head out to see if someone was coming. 60/58 . . . 55/48 . . . oh my gosh, where ARE they? When his blood pressure went to 41/33 I yelled into the hallway, "Someone come help! His blood pressure is 41/33!" My mind was in TV drama mode, seeing that flat line beeping across the monitor . . . I was really panicked. Several nurses rushed in, adjusted the meds, and the situation improved. My blood pressure went down as his came back up.<br />
<br />
I had that kind of moment on the emotional front today. I'd had a beautiful morning. I woke on time, showered before anyone else was awake (a rarity these days) and took the kids to their enrichment classes. Canaan and I love our "buddy day" and I was especially excited today because I'd responded to a post on a homeschooling group to purchase three years of science curriculum for about half what I would have otherwise paid. Imagine how humbled and blessed I was when this sweet lady *gave* me the books. It was just one of those sunshine-in-your-face kind of days. I took Canaan to the park, ran a couple errands, and soon we were headed back to the charter school to pick up the rest of the kids.<br />
<br />
And then we drove past Burger King. The last time (and one of the only times!) we ate there was the day Alif got sick. My mind instantly flashed to Alif next to me on the bench, Rudy across from us singing Broadway-style, the kids playing in the disgustingly dirty playgym. That day is crystal clear in my mind, because it was the last day my life was normal. The last time I said goodbye to my husband as he drove off to work. The last day I went about my day as usual, without worrying about Alif. <br />
<br />
Tears sprung to my eyes and I pouted. "I want that BACK, God! I want my husband back. I want my LIFE back. I want to go back there!"<br />
<br />
My emotional monitor was beeping, and no one came to adjust anything, because they can't. No one can change what has happened in our lives. No one can fix Alif's vision, his cognitive challenges, the constant, constant worry I have that the new valve won't last or that he'll contract yet another infection. No one can make it so that he can work or drive again. These are things that eat away at me when - well, when I let them.<br />
<br />
Then the guilt sets in. We have SO much. We have God, each other, our wonderful children, our home, everything we need, really. God has blessed us in so many ways. It's crazy to feel the pain of our losses so intensely when we've been gifted so much. But sometimes it just IS. It's hard.<br />
<br />
I'm thankful that these moments don't usually last for long. By the time I picked up the rest of my kids, I was ready to enjoy them and carry on with everything we have going on today. I'm thankful for a God who understands that life sucks sometimes and doesn't berate me for having a hard day.<br />
<br />
<i>Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. Philippians 4:8</i>Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-66938386303854540752012-01-01T13:40:00.000-08:002012-01-01T13:40:30.853-08:00January 2012 menuI finally buckled down and made a one-month menu. I've wanted to do this for a long time, as I'm often late with grocery shopping just because it takes time to make the menu and shopping list. This way I can do the bulk of our shopping 2 weeks at a time and just have a quick trip in between for produce, milk, etc.<br />
<br />
I simplified big-time with this menu. We like a lot of variety, so usually we don't repeat too many breakfasts or lunches and definitely not dinners. I decided to make a weekly standing menu for breakfast and lunch and just keep it easy. There are a few variations to keep it interesting, but it's the same idea each week. I'd love to improve on this by focusing more on nutrition, but just having this planned out (and thus avoiding fast food!) will help a ton. Also, breakfasts & lunches will have fruits & veggies added in - like oatmeal days there will always be a stir-in like apples, peaches, raisins . . . you get the idea. So here goes!<br />
<br />
1 b-s'mores (hey, just keepin' it real)<br />
l-soup & cheesy garlic bread<br />
d-fil's birthday (eating at their house)<br />
<br />
2 b-bean omelet<br />
l-soup<br />
d-"chik-fil-a" nuggets (made at home); sweet potatoes<br />
<br />
3 b-oatmeal <br />
l-tacos<br />
d-roast; swedish baked potatoes<br />
<br />
4 b-yogurt, muffin, fruit<br />
l-turkey sandwich<br />
d-croissant poppers; salad<br />
<br />
5 b-cereal<br />
l-snack lunch (this will be a bento-style or muffin tin lunch)<br />
d-chicken spaghetti; green beans<br />
<br />
6 b-breakfast burrito<br />
l-english muffin pizzas<br />
d-chicken salad; breadsticks<br />
<br />
7 b-pancakes (usually will make a clean-eating high-protein type with various grains)<br />
l-salad<br />
d-asian salmon; rice; salad<br />
<br />
8 b-smoothie<br />
l-brunch<br />
d-turkey burgers; fries<br />
<br />
9 b-egg scramble<br />
l-soup<br />
d-pork chops; homemade applesauce; cauliflower<br />
<br />
10 b-cream of wheat<br />
l-taco salad<br />
d-chicken stacks; rice pilaf<br />
<br />
11 b-yogurt, muffin, fruit<br />
l-tuna sandwich<br />
d-stew<br />
<br />
12 b-cereal<br />
l-snack lunch<br />
d-zuppa toscana<br />
<br />
13 b-breakfast burrito<br />
l-quesadilla<br />
d-meatloaf; mashed potatoes; carrots<br />
<br />
14 b-pancakes<br />
l-pasta<br />
d-baked penne w/sausage<br />
<br />
15 b-smoothie<br />
l-brunch<br />
d-tuna casserole; broccoli<br />
<br />
16 b-omelet<br />
l-soup<br />
d-quesadilla w/turkey; oven roasted veg<br />
<br />
17 b-grits<br />
l-tortilla soup<br />
d-chicken stir-fry; black beans & rice<br />
<br />
18 b-yogurt, muffin, fruit<br />
l-ham sandwich<br />
d-shepherd's pie<br />
<br />
19 b-cereal<br />
l-snack lunch<br />
d-split pea soup; tortillas<br />
<br />
20 b-breakfast burrito<br />
l-bagel pizzas<br />
d-trader's pizza<br />
<br />
21 b-pancakes<br />
l-salad<br />
d-vegetarian chili; cornbread<br />
<br />
22 b-smoothie<br />
l-brunch<br />
d-burritos<br />
<br />
23 b-egg scramble<br />
l-soup<br />
d-white chicken chili<br />
<br />
24 b-oatmeal<br />
l-tacos<br />
d-lasagna; garlic bread; salad<br />
<br />
25 b-yogurt, muffin, fruit<br />
l-salami sandwich<br />
d-chicken pot pie<br />
<br />
26 b-cereal<br />
l-snack lunch<br />
d-roasted red pepper soup (TJs); cheesy garlic bread<br />
<br />
27 b-breakfast burrito<br />
l-english muffin pizzas<br />
d-quiche; salad<br />
<br />
28 b-pancakes<br />
l-pasta<br />
d-caprese grilled cheese<br />
<br />
29 b-smoothie<br />
l-brunch<br />
d-breakfast for dinner: egg sandwiches; bacon; fruit<br />
<br />
30 b-omelet<br />
l-soup<br />
d-sandwich on bread roll<br />
<br />
31 b-cream of wheat<br />
l-taco salad<br />
d-spicy honey chicken; quinoaLift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-71199235353002459802011-12-30T18:57:00.000-08:002011-12-30T18:57:18.547-08:00Family Goals 2012<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Q74dQ73jtcAhHcSPy1LoRXUE437gHOIIlfSawiPnWC7ah3y9Hsee9xInmHCs_RHkDFV5OdDRtKYoLGv23Rzabtq5ErLWVRnnGHfSt_TqOOhF2sqAXdCBKUnFDFh3CtR6KO6x/s1600/family2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_Q74dQ73jtcAhHcSPy1LoRXUE437gHOIIlfSawiPnWC7ah3y9Hsee9xInmHCs_RHkDFV5OdDRtKYoLGv23Rzabtq5ErLWVRnnGHfSt_TqOOhF2sqAXdCBKUnFDFh3CtR6KO6x/s640/family2011.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Canaan, Emily, Alif, Malachi, Graham and Caris in November 2011</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</tbody></table>Because it's the end of the year, lots of people are starting to think about New Year's Resolutions. Well, maybe the super-organized have had theirs planned out for some time, and some procrastinators won't even think about it until January is officially here, but anyway, I've seen a few Facebook posts about those new-year promises we like to make. My favorite was my sister's, dug up from half a lifetime ago: Be happy ALL the time. Good luck with that one! <br />
<br />
There are sure lots of things I can (and Lord willing, <i>will</i>) be working on personally in 2012, but my main push this year will be for some family goals. I wrote out a plan to work on some things each month. Here they are, in case you'd like some inspiration. I'll expand on each month as it comes along. I'd love to hear your ideas, too.<br />
<br />
January: Spiritual health<br />
-Set time for Bible reading<br />
-Age-appropriate/topical Bible study for each person<br />
<br />
February: Physical health<br />
-Save sweets for treats<br />
-Healthy snacks<br />
-Fast food limitations<br />
-Monthly meal plan<br />
-Plan family activities<br />
-Oral health<br />
-Hygiene schedule<br />
<br />
March: Financial health<br />
-Family savings goals (Legoland? Family camp? Long-term, obviously)<br />
-Donating/ministry ideas<br />
-Yard sale<br />
<br />
April: House health<br />
-Yard: weed, plan, plant, clean, recycling center spruce-up<br />
<br />
May: Emotional health<br />
-Family fun nights<br />
-SMASH journal<br />
-Connect with extended family<br />
-Crafts<br />
<br />
June: Mental health<br />
-Summer read-alouds<br />
-Unit study as a family<br />
<br />
July: Spiritual health<br />
-How is Bible reading going?<br />
-Plans for small group in the fall<br />
-Age-appropriate/topical Bible studies for each person<br />
<br />
August: Physical health<br />
-Increase fruits & veggies<br />
-Review everything else from Feb<br />
<br />
September: Financial health<br />
-Family savings goals - re-evaluate<br />
-Donating/ministry ideas<br />
-Christmas plans<br />
<br />
October: House health<br />
-Yard<br />
-Take in recycling<br />
-Indoor project evaluation & list<br />
<br />
November: Emotional health<br />
-Same as in May<br />
<br />
December: Mental health<br />
-Christmas break read-aloud<br />
-AdventLift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-38128340352969505692011-12-23T15:40:00.000-08:002011-12-23T15:40:15.543-08:00Thankful for him and Him<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93BM5VBmdGQkZ_2Q9ux71CmE94qoylj7TPQajU7h66jzRVndftQx2CPEgU9FiKdDtXz6iP9TJOLfn-5XCgcQn9qF4-eCiLHFE82M4myHVkBNeYNBI9zFX21hZ-1Ux5fwKNzW_/s1600/AlifChristmas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj93BM5VBmdGQkZ_2Q9ux71CmE94qoylj7TPQajU7h66jzRVndftQx2CPEgU9FiKdDtXz6iP9TJOLfn-5XCgcQn9qF4-eCiLHFE82M4myHVkBNeYNBI9zFX21hZ-1Ux5fwKNzW_/s640/AlifChristmas.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> I have to confess something: I have been kind of having a pity party about some things. Our lives have changed so drastically that when I look at how things go these days, almost nothing is like it was a year ago. Alif is busy recuperating (read: sleeping, doing word searches, playing Wii, going on long walks etc.) and I am busy doing everything I was doing before as well as much of what Alif used to do (Christmas shopping, for example). It can get overwhelming, and I don't always handle it well.<br />
<br />
In many ways, I feel like I lost my husband in April 2011. It's easy to focus on what we don't have, what is different, what's harder now. I told Alif last night that it feels like our life is divided: Before and After. I wondered aloud if it would always feel that way, and he said it probably will, though the differences are less drastic as the months go by.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHFD6qy0Bn4gKvFy9U19DFUzrFN3MKD-inYnBopZuk2lQ4JDv2u43jm5WAlHAH_xCp_Wv1PiUCXvizUI6b8tMTkWorUiJTfcRulYYRf5yGvh1bA4dl6cl-2ZpvSepX37sx1K0h/s1600/AlifChristmas2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHFD6qy0Bn4gKvFy9U19DFUzrFN3MKD-inYnBopZuk2lQ4JDv2u43jm5WAlHAH_xCp_Wv1PiUCXvizUI6b8tMTkWorUiJTfcRulYYRf5yGvh1bA4dl6cl-2ZpvSepX37sx1K0h/s640/AlifChristmas2.jpg" width="640" /></a></div> But then I think of Christmases past. Alif & I rising groggily from slumber to excited voices. Alif making coffee, Mama readying the camera. Smiles all around, albeit sleepy ones. You see, we'd been up very late, night after night, making our list and checking it twice, making piles of gifts and hastily wrapping them, making silly jokes that no one else would understand.<br />
<br />
A couple nights ago Alif was resting on the couch while I wrapped gifts *my* way (not hastily but thoughtfully). I was so tired that I hit my deliriously silly mode and started to belt out, "Heeee's the boogie woogie bugle boy of company Beeeeeee!" The hilarity of it hit me and I started to giggle. First it was, "why in the world did THAT song pop into my head??" then, "Isn't it amazing the things we'll do in front of our spouse that we wouldn't do in front of anyone else?" Then Alif said, "C'mon, let's hear it again!" Ha! We were a sight.<br />
<br />
Last night we stayed up way too late, wrapping again, talking, laughing. And then today I read about a friend who lost his Dad years ago today. It was such a precious reminder of what is left. There is much missing and our lives ARE very different today than they were a year ago. But oh, I'm so blessed. Christmas morning I will awaken next to my man. Our children will pad down the stairs and onto our bed. We'll tease them and remember baby Jesus, grown-up Jesus, and finally we'll rise groggily from slumber. Alif will make coffee and Mama will ready the camera. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEs7UednXBaIvZQjhZ8upjd-GB2drTa9M6VICJlsA8davabZce3EXEU31t31PXyAGqKWbTD22BwJys90dFGfI6pe1CBgqbxGrRwhlCevqC5YMbj7UcuFJrptWlXlrL947nkoaK/s1600/AlifChristmas3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="464" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEs7UednXBaIvZQjhZ8upjd-GB2drTa9M6VICJlsA8davabZce3EXEU31t31PXyAGqKWbTD22BwJys90dFGfI6pe1CBgqbxGrRwhlCevqC5YMbj7UcuFJrptWlXlrL947nkoaK/s640/AlifChristmas3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>Thank you, Father. Thank you.Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-23217686202175421272011-12-16T13:29:00.000-08:002011-12-16T13:29:39.119-08:00april 23-24, 2011On April 23, Alif continued to move his face (grimaces, etc.), head and left arm. This was not just a nerve thing - this was actual movement! One of our favorite nurses yelled, "ALIF. ALIF." and he opened his eyes!! I couldn't believe it. He actually showed signs of life! My heart began to soar - maybe things could turn around! Maybe we wouldn't be considering turning off life support on Monday!<br />
<br />
The next day was Easter. I was feeling many things, all hard to describe. What an unfathomable joy to celebrate the rising of our Savior, being in the midst of the biggest trial of my entire life, but also feeling closer to Him than ever before. There were so many practical considerations: someone brought over Easter baskets for my kids, and I would never have remembered to do that. I had to decide whether to go to church or stay at the hospital, sending my kids to church with someone else. I couldn't begin to think of facing people outside the hospital setting, but I also couldn't bear the thought of my kids having a weird Easter morning on top of the absolute chaos going on in their lives already. I made up my mind to take them to church, and my brother-in-law Jason graciously offered to go with us, acting as a sort of emotional bodyguard. Oh, I can't begin to tell you the love and respect I had for my sister's husband that day. He stepped in dozens of times, answering questions firmly but lovingly, so I never felt I had to answer questions I didn't want to, but also didn't feel like I was pushing people away. Thank God for such a man!<br />
<br />
I had prepared my heart to simply not cry, period, because I knew that if the tears started, they surely would not stop, and I didn't want my children to see me in an absolute mess. It was quite a juggling act that first week or so, how to handle it all with the kids. Things were VERY up and down - one hour things looked pretty promising, and the next the situation was grave. I was barely hanging on through the roller coaster ride and didn't want my kids on it at all. I stuck to telling them that Daddy was very, very sick, but that he was in God's hands; God was taking very good care of Daddy and so were the doctors and nurses, and we hope he will be home soon. I instructed everyone else to say the same and for the most part, people were very tactful with my kids.<br />
<br />
After church that day, as we left the sanctuary, I told Jason, "I have never felt the urge to literally run to my car after church, but it's all I can do to walk right now." But we made it. My kids got to go to church on Easter. It sure wasn't normal - Caris was wearing some random dress that wasn't at all Easter-like, but we were there. When I got home my Dad was at the house waiting to pick up the kids so they could spend the rest of the day at his house. Hooray for Easter egg hunts and barbecue and family, even if Mom and Dad were spending the day in the hospital! The first thing he said was, "have you talked to your sister?" Talk about gracious offers - Megan had chosen to spend Easter morning in the hospital with my husband so I could go to church in peace! Sacrificial love. I told my Dad I hadn't talked to her and he said, "I won't spoil the surprise, but get to the hospital. You're going to be happy."<br />
<br />
The whole drive there, I just couldn't imagine what awaited me! Could my husband possibly be sitting up in bed, talking? Nah, probably not . . . maybe more movement of his left arm, maybe even his left leg? Oh, I was so excited! I got into that room as quickly as I could (which isn't very quickly, if you know how the ICU works - LOL) and what I found was my husband moving his left arm and leg! AND, answering questions with nods and shakes of the head!! He understood us! Oh, MAN! I was so excited!Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-71076972185959875182011-09-12T10:44:00.000-07:002011-09-12T10:44:23.616-07:00What it feels likeSo. My house is quiet for the first time in at least 6 months, and I have more than fifteen seconds to think - alone - so I thought I'd do a little post. Mainly because my counselor says I need to write.<br />
<br />
I've been trying to process what emotions I'm having. There's so much going on right now that it can be tricky to put words to my feelings, even to my own self. It's a pretty confusing thing.<br />
<br />
But the other day I got a mental image of exactly what it feels like to be me right now. I'm about to annoy you if you hate word pictures.<br />
<br />
So I'm in a lake - well, Alif & I are in the lake together. Some days we're doing ok. We're exhausted, of course, because being in a lake nonstop is a tiring thing. But you know, on those ok days we're kind of swimming around and enjoying ourselves even though we might really like to be on the shore and not smack in the middle of this blasted lake for 6 months in a row. But it's alright and sometimes it's even fun and SOMETIMES it even feels almost normal!<br />
<br />
But a lot of days we're really REALLY tired and it sort of feels like we're treading water. There's really no fun happening and we're both pretty irritated and Alif especially cannot understand why we can't leave the lake already and get back to normal life. But we can't. There IS no normal life. It's all lake, baby, and you either swim or you drown, but either way there is constant effort.<br />
<br />
And then there are those days that are thankfully few and far between when I am really pretty sure we ARE drowning. Like, that feeling of being just BARELY treading water, and our faces are going under and we're sputtering and gasping for air.<br />
<br />
God is our lifeguard and sometimes we invite Him in to play and other times we look up at Him on His lifeguard stand and wonder why He's not jumping in to save us.<br />
<br />
Our friends and family are all close by but no one's really swimming with us any more. They've basically gone back to their normal lives, as they should, but they come around and dip their feet in from time to time and sometimes someone even jumps in and throws us a ring now and then so we get a little rest.<br />
<br />
So. That's how it feels right now. Some days are good, some are bad, they're all exhausting and we're trying to find our way through this and figure out what today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year will be like.Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-32744941413946978492011-07-13T14:25:00.000-07:002011-07-13T14:25:29.101-07:00Bible in 90 Days: Days 2 & 3<i>Genesis 18:14a Is anything too hard for the LORD?</i> Let me just answer this with a resoundingly loud NO!<br />
<br />
<i>Genesis 19:16 And while he lingered, the men took hold of his hand, his wife’s hand, and the hands of his two daughters, the LORD being merciful to him, and they brought him out and set him outside the city.</i> I especially noticed the word "lingered" here. We are so inclined to wallow in our depravity, not realizing what God has for us - and yet God is so merciful. He takes us by the hand and leads us, if we'll listen!<br />
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<i>Genesis 21:8 So the child grew and was weaned. And Abraham made a great feast on the same day that Isaac was weaned</i>. Just giggled when I read this and thought that Alif would probably relate to that second part. ;-) Yes, Canaan is still nursing. Yes, he is four. And yes, I'm kidding - Alif doesn't mind a bit that the "baby" still nurses.<br />
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</i><br />
<i>Genesis 24:12 Then he said, “O LORD God of my master Abraham, please give me success this day, and show kindness to my master Abraham."</i> I love this servant's heart! I want to be the kind of servant who is this faithful to her calling.<br />
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<i>Genesis 24:50 Then Laban and Bethuel answered and said, “The thing comes from the LORD; we cannot speak to you either bad or good.</i> Heck yeah! Our opinion matters exactly zero. What God wants, however - that's what matters!<br />
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<i>Genesis 25:32 And Esau said, “Look, I </i><i>am about to die; so what </i><i>is this birthright to me?”</i> Ok. I put a huge asterisk on my notebook next to this reference, because this whole story jumped out at me. Esau traded his birthright for a bowl of lentil soup. I trade out great things for lesser ones every day. For example, every time I overeat sweets, I'm trading health and fitness for a temporary pleasure. Not a great trade, but it sure seems so in the moment.<br />
<br />
<i>Genesis 26:24 And the LORD appeared to him the same night and said, “I </i><i>am the God of your father Abraham; do not fear, for I </i><i>am with you. I will bless you and multiply your descendants for My servant Abraham’s sake.”</i> If I were to name my number one struggle in life, it would be fear.<b> Do not fear, for I am with you.</b> Love.<br />
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<i>Genesis 32:12 For You said, ‘I will surely treat you well, and make your descendants as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.’</i> Jacob is praying to God here, and when I read this I thought right off of our Awana kids and how hard they work to plant God's Word deeply in their hearts. How important it is to know His Word - and not just to know it, but to speak it. Out loud!<br />
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<i>Genesis 33:4 But Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept.</i> Ohhhh. Jacob was so worried about Esau's retaliation, but here we see a beautiful picture of not only forgiveness but reconciliation. So inspirational!<br />
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Tip of the day: Be sure to pray before you read. Some of the things we'll read are awfully confusing! I remember one time I was telling a reading specialist that my oldest son would read and read in his Bible, but didn't seem interested in much else. She said, "Well, that's cheating! The Spirit is helping him." Cute - and true! He wants to speak to you. He wants to meet you where you are. Ask him to open your heart to what He wants to say! And don't stop there - as you're reading and you come across something you don't get, ask Him again.<br />
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Happy reading!Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-49376304617588498832011-07-12T19:53:00.000-07:002011-07-12T19:53:06.486-07:00april 22, 2011I really didn't even know what to do with myself when the neurologist told me that my husband's chances were terrible. There were so many thoughts battling in my mind. Faith demands belief, and I couldn't stop believing that God could do anything He wanted to no matter what those scans showed. But oh, those scans were bad.<br />
<br />
I really felt like I was living in some sort of alternate reality. I felt absolutely protected by God and even amidst the circumstances I was able to rest in total peace. I didn't want to lose my husband. I definitely did not want my children to grow up without their father. But when you know your husband knows the Lord, there just is honestly something very sweet about thinking he may soon be with his Father.<br />
<br />
My thoughts were random, to say the least. A song might play on the radio and I'd think how lovely it would be at Alif's funeral, and I would see a slide show playing in my mind. Alif with a baby in his lap, little toes pointing toward Daddy's bare belly. Alif kneeling next to three-year-old Canaan, proudly adjusting the toddler's stance for the best chance at a great t-ball hit. Alif in his fancy suit promising to love me as long as he would live. The six of us on the front porch, Daddy's face fading from the picture and leaving a widow and four fatherless children.<br />
<br />
Tears came often, as they do now just remembering this time and the confusion that permeated every moment. Laughter was welcome, even when it was slightly manic. Friends and family showed the kind of support I could never have expected. God utilized each person's strengths, gifting and personality to bless us beyond measure.<br />
<br />
But the reality was that we were facing a repeat brain scan in three days, at which time we would "need to make some decisions." I determined to spend those days loving my husband the best way I could and to not spend them mourning. I prayed over him many, many times a day. I stayed at the hospital, surrounded by loved ones. I went home in the evenings and tried to make life as normal as possible for our children. I set my alarm for two wake-ups each night, so I could call the ICU and get an update on the latest. The ICU nurses were absolutely angelic in giving me as many details as they possibly could.<br />
<br />
On April 22, Alif had a few facial and left arm movements. There was some speculation that this could be just a nerve thing. I didn't buy it and soaked up every sign of life. He also had a fever, which was terribly concerning to me as we were now several days in with 5 or 6 tough antibiotics coursing through his system around the clock, and a few days out from a major surgery. I continued to pray for healing over every system in his body, for the nurses to be alert, skilled, caring; for the doctors to have wisdom and precision in their decision-making.Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-83362765913140048332011-07-11T18:41:00.000-07:002011-07-11T18:41:14.488-07:00Bible in 90 Days: Day 1I promise I'll continue Alif's story soon! We are home, praise the Lord, and adjusting back to normal life.<br />
<br />
It's Bible in 90 Days time again, and this time I'm going to attempt to blog through it. I may not blog every day, but I think it'll be nice to have a record of the things God whispers (or yells!) through this process.<br />
<br />
So here are my not-very-organized thoughts on the first day's reading, all in Genesis. Please note that all references are in the New King James Version, as that's the version I've chosen to read this time.<br />
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Genesis 3 - no wonder Satan is called the Father of Lies! So weird to be witness to that very first lie. It's so easy for us to scream at Eve and Adam, as if during a horror movie (which I do not watch. ever.), "don't listen! Don't buy it! You're gonna REGRET THIS!" But oh man, I get caught in sin at LEAST as easily, and when I have the benefit of hindsight, I always wish I'd chosen righteousness over temporary gain.<br />
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<i>Genesis 3:8 And they heard the sound of the LORD God walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and Adam and his wife hid themselves from the presence of the LORD God among the trees of the garden</i>. I do this too - "hide" from God and/or my family and friends when I'm involved in sin, when I'm depressed, when I just flat-out don't want to face reality. But man, seeing so visually here the amazing fellowship we have been afforded with our Lord, it really makes me scratch my head in wonder. Why in the world would I choose ugly over beautiful??<br />
<br />
<i>Genesis 3:14-19 So the LORD God said to the serpent: <br />
“ Because you have done this, <br />
You </i><i>are cursed more than all cattle, <br />
And more than every beast of the field; <br />
On your belly you shall go, <br />
And you shall eat dust <br />
All the days of your life.</i><br />
<i> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NKJV-71">15</sup> And I will put enmity<br />
Between you and the woman, <br />
And between your seed and her Seed; <br />
He shall bruise your head, <br />
And you shall bruise His heel.” <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-NKJV-72">16</sup></i> <i> To the woman He said: <br />
“I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception; <br />
In pain you shall bring forth children; <br />
Your desire </i><i>shall be for your husband, <br />
And he shall rule over you.” <br />
<sup class="versenum" id="en-NKJV-73">17</sup></i> <i> Then to Adam He said, “Because you have heeded the voice of your wife, and have eaten from the tree of which I commanded you, saying, ‘You shall not eat of it’: <br />
“ Cursed </i><i>is the ground for your sake; <br />
In toil you shall eat </i><i>of it <br />
All the days of your life.</i><br />
<i> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NKJV-74">18</sup> Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you,<br />
And you shall eat the herb of the field.</i><br />
<i> <sup class="versenum" id="en-NKJV-75">19</sup> In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread<br />
Till you return to the ground, <br />
For out of it you were taken; <br />
For dust you </i><i>are,<br />
And to dust you shall return.” </i><br />
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We can make all the excuses we want to, but there's just no escaping the consequences of our sin. <br />
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<i>Genesis 4:19 Then Lamech took for himself two wives: the name of one </i><i>was Adah, and the name of the second </i><i>was Zillah</i>. Hmm. Just curious - is this the first polygamy? If so, how did God feel about it? I mean, clearly he designed one man and one woman to be married only to each other, and one man taking two or more wives was not in his will for us.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<i>Genesis 4:26 And as for Seth, to him also a son was born; and he named him Enosh. Then </i><i>men began to call on the name of the LORD.</i> Just curious again - what does this mean, the second part? Part b? THEN men began to call on the name of the Lord? Hmm. In my notes, I wrote a question mark with a circle around it. BI90 isn't the time to pursue every question, but when it's over I'll want to go back and research.<br />
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<i>Genesis 7:10 And it came to pass after seven days that the waters of the flood were on the earth</i>. Oh, there is just such a blessed peace in those words, "and it came to pass". God's words are ALWAYS true. We can count on Him always. Always.<br />
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<i>Genesis 9:6 Whoever sheds man’s blood,<br />
By man his blood shall be shed; <br />
For in the image of God <br />
He made man.</i><br />
There's a lot of talk in Christian circles about the sanctity of life, but this verse made me think about the less obvious ways we show a lack of respect for life. If I'm made in God's image, then is it right, for example, for me to ignore this earthly body and let it turn half to flab? Is it ok to snicker at someone's huge schnoz on TV? (No, it is not - that is one of my pet peeves, making fun of a person's actual physical makeup! God MADE that thing!) What about even LESS obvious things, like neglecting to hug my child when he stubs his toe? NOT kissing her little nose when she wakes in the morning? If we are made in the image of God, then friends, we are due proper respect and so are those around us.<br />
<i> </i><br />
And here's just a little practical note: for those of you who said things like, "I can't even keep up with reading the Bible in a year, much less in 90 days!" My personal opinion, having waded into - oh, about Leviticus - at LEAST 15 times on one-year plans? Is that it's actually EASIER in 90 days. Yes, it's a bigger time commitment. Yes, there are times you will want to pull your hair out at reading another genealogy or record of war or description of a temple. But guess what? You can do this for 90 days. You really can. It's quick, bam, and you're done. And I PROMISE God will speak to you.Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-79471147438301266122011-06-04T07:19:00.000-07:002011-06-04T07:19:54.396-07:00april 21, 2011Sometime in March I started to talk to Alif about his Birthday. I started by suggesting we have four or five families from church over for a barbecue. That was met with a resounding NO! Fine, I said, can we just have one family over for dinner? Still NO. He is not a person who likes attention, especially in groups, so his reaction wasn't surprising.<br />
<br />
Well, he got his way. On April 21, 2011 he turned 37 and slept through the entire day. Then again, he did have lots of visitors that day, and my sister brought balloons and signs and we decorated his room. We also put cards all over the wall. Most were from children. Children of families where he'd done work ("thanks for making almost our whole house"), kids from Awana, of course from our own kids. I read him each one before putting it on the wall.<br />
<br />
We talked to him as though he could fully hear us, because I truly believed (and still believe) that he could. It was so important to me to fill his mind with truth, hope, humor and love because I had no feedback - no way of knowing what he was thinking about and feeling. I think it helped to keep my spirits up too, especially<a href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ciframe%20src=%22http://rcm.amazon.com/e/cm?t=liupyohe-20&o=1&p=8&l=as1&asins=0840791763&ref=tf_til&fc1=000000&IS2=1&lt1=_blank&m=amazon&lc1=0000FF&bc1=000000&bg1=FFFFFF&f=ifr%22%20style=%22width:120px;height:240px;%22%20scrolling=%22no%22%20marginwidth=%220%22%20marginheight=%220%22%20frameborder=%220%22%3E%3C/iframe%3E"> the book</a> I prayed over him numerous times a day. <br />
<br />
I can't remember how it came about, but we knew on this day that Alif was having a CT scan of his brain. That evening around 6:00 Jan, Rabae and I went into the nurses' station in the ICU with Dr. H, our neurologist. He sat in a swivel chair and worked to get a computer screen to show the results of the scan. I stood nervously with my arms crossed, Jan's arm around my shoulders.<br />
<br />
Finally the screen opened up and there I could see a brain. At first it just looked like any other brain, but then Dr. H started to scroll through different views and even my untrained eye could see that there were problems. Dr. H told us that when Alif's mitral valve had become infected, pieces of that infection - vegetation - had broken off, entered the bloodstream, and showered into his body - mostly into his brain, causing many, many strokes. One side of the brain showed a very large stroke. The other side showed a large bleed. There was damage to the brain stem. There was damage all over his brain.<br />
<br />
I couldn't take in what any of this meant. I listened question-less to his descriptions, which he delivered matter-of-factly but with an obviously somber attitude. The gravity of the situation could not be missed. Jan spoke for me, asking questions that would help me to absorb what he was saying. I think I asked a question or made a comment to the effect of, "so? We can deal with deficits," to which Dr. H replied, "I do not believe he will be able to speak. Walk. Talk. <i>Breathe</i>. If he were my age, I would give him absolutely no chance at all. At his age, <i>his chances are terrible</i>." <br />
<br />
His chances are terrible.<br />
<br />
His chances are terrible.<br />
<br />
Those words, combined with the images in my mind of the giant stroke(s) and bleeding, are burned in my mind forever. They bring tears to my eyes even now. It was genuinely the worst moment of my life. We had been fighting for my husband's life for five days. I'd been told two times already that he would likely not survive. This time felt much more final. He had been through so much, his body was so, so sick, so weak. And now his mind, too.<br />
<br />
Jan, Rabae and I left the ICU and as we walked down the hallway the tears started flowing. The youth pastors from our church had just arrived, and as I made my way down the hall flanked by Jan and Rabae, the thought struck me that Cory and Mikey surely thought Alif hadn't made it.<br />
<br />
The three of us went down the hall to a quiet waiting area. I let my chest and head fall and wept. I don't know how long I cried, but it was a long time. I was thinking of my kids - how would I tell my kids their Daddy would never be coming home? I thought of the special bond Alif has with Canaan and wondered if God gave them that because He knew they would only have four short years together. I begged God, "Please, please! I don't want this to be their testimony! I know you can do amazing things through this but it's not what I <i>want </i>for them, God! <i>Please</i> don't take their Daddy. Please!"<br />
<br />
The youth pastors came in and prayed over us. I continued to cry.<br />
<br />
That night I wrote in my journal, "devastating news about Alif's CT scan."Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-67098604445565949922011-06-01T19:33:00.001-07:002011-06-01T19:33:58.668-07:00Here by Kate WhiteI know I just posted these lyrics a few weeks ago, but I figured if I needed the reminder maybe you did too.<br />
<br />
Here by Kate White<br />
<br />
Here in this place<br />
With emotion I will praise you<br />
And here in this place<br />
You embrace me as I am<br />
Here without fear<br />
I will climb into your lap<br />
And cry<br />
And here, bathed in tears<br />
The unknown is put to rest<br />
<br />
My life is overwhelming me<br />
It's hard to see the things You see<br />
Your Spirit comes to comfort me<br />
I will praise You<br />
I will praise You<br />
I will praise You hereLift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-17695892.post-91676277457810729322011-05-17T18:12:00.000-07:002011-05-17T18:12:31.142-07:00april 20, 2011Every hour that passed after the surgeries, the weight seemed a little lighter, the breathing a little easier. One hour out of surgery and nothing has come crashing down! Two hours out and he's still alive! Three hours out and he's stable! By the time evening came we were all absolutely exhausted but relieved and thankful and ready to go home for some sleep.<br />
<br />
April 20. Lynette's Birthday. We were supposed to go over to her house this night and have an early Easter dinner. Lynette had said no gifts and no Birthday celebration, but who follows directions like that? I had a cute idea planned out and couldn't wait to give it to her. What a different day April 20, 2011 turned out to be than the one we'd planned.<br />
<br />
Let me go back a couple days, though, because as I write there are so many details that I want to remember and so if I forget some I'll go ahead and add them out of order.<br />
<br />
The day the doctor told me Alif would not survive his lung infection, we cried out. Everyone who asked about his condition knew how bad his infection was, and "pray for his lungs!" was the main prayer request that day. Several times I asked God to heal him so completely that everyone would know that it was by His power and for His glory that Alif had been healed.<br />
<br />
Imagine my faithless surprise when I walked in to his room the next day and the respiratory therapist looked thrilled! I asked how it was going and he said, "you're not going to believe it. He's satting (saturating with oxygen) so well I went to get his nurse and the charge nurse to come check it out. I've been pulling people in here all morning to look at him. I can't explain what happened - maybe some whole other pocket opened up or something? He's satting GREAT." Smile! That's our God!<br />
<br />
So back to the day after surgery. It was nothing but good news all day. Alif was (and had been since the 17th) still intubated and sedated, but his numbers were looking good all day. It was bittersweet to see him doing so well but to only know that by looking at his heart rate, his blood pressure, his oxygenation. Alif and I talk a LOT. Many times throughout the day we call each other's cell phones and relay some little detail, check in, joke around. How strange and disheartening to know my husband only by numbers on a screen. "How are you today?" "140/80, 76bpm, 93%." Not normal!<br />
<br />
Even still, it was a beautiful day to have no crises pop up. It gave me a few minutes to reflect on how grateful I was to serve a Master who loves us in an all-consuming way. There truly is not a time in my life I can remember ever feeling closer to my Father than in those first couple weeks. I felt completely enfolded by Him - shielded, comforted, loved. Every moment of quiet I prayed. Every minute in the car I prayed over every system in Alif's mind and body. I was so thankful not only for a good-news day, but for the ultimate Good News that even if Alif didn't survive this ordeal physically, he was in his Father's hands and therefore absolutely rescued from every kind of harm.<br />
<br />
What a comfort, what a joy!Lift Up Your Heartshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06208947659460506120noreply@blogger.com3