Two years.

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.

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).

But that night the neurologist had sobering words: Alif would not survive.

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.

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.

But they're there.

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.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Alif. I love you so very, very much.

Things have changed and that's for sure

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.

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.

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.

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.

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. ;-)

Quiet Time

We 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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

Because in a very few short years, I'll wish I could do that just one more time.

Malachi's 8th Grade Graduation

 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.

 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.

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.

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.

"I'll have tears as you take off
But I'll cheer as you fly."

I love you, son. Happy graduation.

Anniversaries

I'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.

But there are a few dates that are engraved on my heart for all time.
April 13, 2011 - Alif came home sick
April 16, 2011 - took him to the hospital
April 17, 2011 - intubated and sedated
April 19, 2011 - 1st surgery
April 21, 2011 - told he would not survive his strokes
May 5, 2011 - 2nd surgery
May 26, 2011 - trip to USC
June 2, 2011 - 3rd surgery
June 21, 2011 - home!

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.

This past year has been the hardest of my life. I have never experienced such anxiety, worry, fear, desperation, longing, loneliness, instability, panic.

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.

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.

I watch my baby

I 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.

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?"

"Yes, son. You sure are!"

Sometimes it happens

Google Images

 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 should 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!"

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.

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.

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.

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

January 2012 menu

I 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.

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!

1 b-s'mores (hey, just keepin' it real)
l-soup & cheesy garlic bread
d-fil's birthday (eating at their house)

2 b-bean omelet
l-soup
d-"chik-fil-a" nuggets (made at home); sweet potatoes

3 b-oatmeal
l-tacos
d-roast; swedish baked potatoes

4 b-yogurt, muffin, fruit
l-turkey sandwich
d-croissant poppers; salad

5 b-cereal
l-snack lunch (this will be a bento-style or muffin tin lunch)
d-chicken spaghetti; green beans

6 b-breakfast burrito
l-english muffin pizzas
d-chicken salad; breadsticks

7 b-pancakes (usually will make a clean-eating high-protein type with various grains)
l-salad
d-asian salmon; rice; salad

8 b-smoothie
l-brunch
d-turkey burgers; fries

9 b-egg scramble
l-soup
d-pork chops; homemade applesauce; cauliflower

10 b-cream of wheat
l-taco salad
d-chicken stacks; rice pilaf

11 b-yogurt, muffin, fruit
l-tuna sandwich
d-stew

12 b-cereal
l-snack lunch
d-zuppa toscana

13 b-breakfast burrito
l-quesadilla
d-meatloaf; mashed potatoes; carrots

14 b-pancakes
l-pasta
d-baked penne w/sausage

15 b-smoothie
l-brunch
d-tuna casserole; broccoli

16 b-omelet
l-soup
d-quesadilla w/turkey; oven roasted veg

17 b-grits
l-tortilla soup
d-chicken stir-fry; black beans & rice

18 b-yogurt, muffin, fruit
l-ham sandwich
d-shepherd's pie

19 b-cereal
l-snack lunch
d-split pea soup; tortillas

20 b-breakfast burrito
l-bagel pizzas
d-trader's pizza

21 b-pancakes
l-salad
d-vegetarian chili; cornbread

22 b-smoothie
l-brunch
d-burritos

23 b-egg scramble
l-soup
d-white chicken chili

24 b-oatmeal
l-tacos
d-lasagna; garlic bread; salad

25 b-yogurt, muffin, fruit
l-salami sandwich
d-chicken pot pie

26 b-cereal
l-snack lunch
d-roasted red pepper soup (TJs); cheesy garlic bread

27 b-breakfast burrito
l-english muffin pizzas
d-quiche; salad

28 b-pancakes
l-pasta
d-caprese grilled cheese

29 b-smoothie
l-brunch
d-breakfast for dinner: egg sandwiches; bacon; fruit

30 b-omelet
l-soup
d-sandwich on bread roll

31 b-cream of wheat
l-taco salad
d-spicy honey chicken; quinoa

Family Goals 2012

Canaan, Emily, Alif, Malachi, Graham and Caris in November 2011

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!

There are sure lots of things I can (and Lord willing, will) 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.

January: Spiritual health
-Set time for Bible reading
-Age-appropriate/topical Bible study for each person

February: Physical health
-Save sweets for treats
-Healthy snacks
-Fast food limitations
-Monthly meal plan
-Plan family activities
-Oral health
-Hygiene schedule

March: Financial health
-Family savings goals (Legoland? Family camp? Long-term, obviously)
-Donating/ministry ideas
-Yard sale

April: House health
-Yard: weed, plan, plant, clean, recycling center spruce-up

May: Emotional health
-Family fun nights
-SMASH journal
-Connect with extended family
-Crafts

June: Mental health
-Summer read-alouds
-Unit study as a family

July: Spiritual health
-How is Bible reading going?
-Plans for small group in the fall
-Age-appropriate/topical Bible studies for each person

August: Physical health
-Increase fruits & veggies
-Review everything else from Feb

September: Financial health
-Family savings goals - re-evaluate
-Donating/ministry ideas
-Christmas plans

October: House health
-Yard
-Take in recycling
-Indoor project evaluation & list

November: Emotional health
-Same as in May

December: Mental health
-Christmas break read-aloud
-Advent

Thankful for him and Him

 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.

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.

 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.

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.

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.

Thank you, Father. Thank you.

april 23-24, 2011

On 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!

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!

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.

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."

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!

What it feels like

So. 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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Bible in 90 Days: Days 2 & 3

Genesis 18:14a Is anything too hard for the LORD? Let me just answer this with a resoundingly loud NO!

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 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!

Genesis 21:8 So the child grew and was weaned. And Abraham made a great feast on the same day that Isaac was weaned. 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.


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 love this servant's heart! I want to be the kind of servant who is this faithful to her calling.

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. Heck yeah! Our opinion matters exactly zero. What God wants, however - that's what matters!

Genesis 25:32 And Esau said, “Look, I am about to die; so what is this birthright to me?” 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.

Genesis 26:24 And the LORD appeared to him the same night and said, “I am the God of your father Abraham; do not fear, for I am with you. I will bless you and multiply your descendants for My servant Abraham’s sake.” If I were to name my number one struggle in life, it would be fear. Do not fear, for I am with you. Love.

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.’ 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!

Genesis 33:4 But Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept. Ohhhh. Jacob was so worried about Esau's retaliation, but here we see a beautiful picture of not only forgiveness but reconciliation. So inspirational!

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.

Happy reading!

april 22, 2011

I 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Bible in 90 Days: Day 1

I promise I'll continue Alif's story soon! We are home, praise the Lord, and adjusting back to normal life.

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.

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.

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.

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 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??

Genesis 3:14-19  So the LORD God said to the serpent:
      “ Because you have done this,
      You are cursed more than all cattle,
      And more than every beast of the field;
      On your belly you shall go,
      And you shall eat dust
      All the days of your life.
 ¹⁵ And I will put enmity
      Between you and the woman,
      And between your seed and her Seed;
      He shall bruise your head,
      And you shall bruise His heel.”
¹⁶ To the woman He said:
      “I will greatly multiply your sorrow and your conception;
      In pain you shall bring forth children;
      Your desire shall be for your husband,
      And he shall rule over you.”
¹⁷ 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’:
      “ Cursed is the ground for your sake;
      In toil you shall eat of it
      All the days of your life.
 ¹⁸ Both thorns and thistles it shall bring forth for you,
      And you shall eat the herb of the field.
 ¹⁹ In the sweat of your face you shall eat bread
      Till you return to the ground,
      For out of it you were taken;
      For dust you are,
      And to dust you shall return.” 

We can make all the excuses we want to, but there's just no escaping the consequences of our sin.

Genesis 4:19 Then Lamech took for himself two wives: the name of one was Adah, and the name of the second was Zillah.  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.




Genesis 4:26 And as for Seth, to him also a son was born; and he named him Enosh. Then men began to call on the name of the LORD. 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.

Genesis 7:10 And it came to pass after seven days that the waters of the flood were on the earth. 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.

Genesis 9:6 Whoever sheds man’s blood,
      By man his blood shall be shed;
      For in the image of God
      He made man.
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.

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.

april 21, 2011

Sometime 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.

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.

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 the book I prayed over him numerous times a day.

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.

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.

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. Breathe. If he were my age, I would give him absolutely no chance at all. At his age, his chances are terrible."

His chances are terrible.

His chances are terrible.

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.

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.

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 want for them, God! Please don't take their Daddy. Please!"

The youth pastors came in and prayed over us. I continued to cry.

That night I wrote in my journal, "devastating news about Alif's CT scan."

Here by Kate White

I know I just posted these lyrics a few weeks ago, but I figured if I needed the reminder maybe you did too.

Here by Kate White

Here in this place
With emotion I will praise you
And here in this place
You embrace me as I am
Here without fear
I will climb into your lap
And cry
And here, bathed in tears
The unknown is put to rest

My life is overwhelming me
It's hard to see the things You see
Your Spirit comes to comfort me
I will praise You
I will praise You
I will praise You here

april 20, 2011

Every 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.

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.

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.

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.

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!

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!

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.

What a comfort, what a joy!

april 19, 2011

There was a dance happening between Alif's doctors - or as Jan says, the doctors were all having to play nicely together in the sandbox. The cardio-thoracic surgeon, Dr. P, needed to do surgery to replace Alif's mitral valve. That surgery needed to be done immediately. The infectious disease doctor, Dr. K, needed surgery to wait at least a few days so that Alif wasn't going into surgery so badly infected. The worst-case scenario was surgery immediately. The best-case scenario was surgery in a few days.

Surgery was scheduled for April 19, 2011. Almost immediately.


I asked Jan, "Do you think he will survive?" She paused. She said, "that's two questions. Do I think he will make it off the table, or do I think he will survive after the surgery?" She assured me that she felt confident that he would make it off the table. She was also compassionately clear that his chances after surgery were slim. We would be fighting blood pressure, infection, etc. etc. Getting him stabilized would be tricky.

I decided I would spend the night with Alif that night - have some time alone with him, say all the things I'd ever wanted to say, pray for him, sing to him. I delighted that no matter how I wracked my brain, there weren't many things I could think to say that hadn't already been said. I told him how much I loved him, of course, how proud I am to be his wife, how thankful for the years and years he'd worked so hard to support the lifestyle we have chosen. When morning came I was exhausted but thankful for having had the opportunity to be as close to him as possible going into the surgery.

We had finally gotten ahold of Alif's parents and they were due in during surgery. Alif was scheduled at 9:30-ISH (we were told not to put much stock in that time frame!) and family and friends started to show up pretty early. I think they finally took him back around 11, and Rabae and I were able to walk him out and give him last-minute hugs and kisses. Then the waiting began.

Looking back on the situation, this particular scene makes me laugh. There's a waiting room outside the ICU that's a pretty good size. It has probably 15 arm chairs and a table with four chairs also. We had moved the table aside and set up a full size air mattress. There were about 30 people in that room rooting Alif on, praying, laughing, crying, hugging, eating, working on laptops, pacing. Later in the day Jan came in and said, "there are families complaining that they have nowhere to wait." Megan said, "Oh! We haven't seen anyone!" Jan replied tactfully, "I think they've been waiting in the hallway." It was like the Big Fat Greek Wedding of hospital waiting rooms.

I'd asked Jan to promise me something. "If he doesn't make it off the table, Jan, please make sure I hear it from you. I don't want to see the doctor walking in here with that look on his face." She promised.

Sometime in the afternoon, Fred and Juanita came rushing in. About 3 minutes later, Dr. P came with the surgery report. "Everything went well." Rejoicing! Everything had gone well!

Very shortly after, a nurse (Jan? I forget) came in and pointed at me, Rabae, Fred and Juanita. "wife, sister, mom, dad." We went into the hallway and there were several nurses putting gowns on us as we walked in to the ICU. We had about 15 seconds to kiss Alif, touch him, tell him we loved him, and then they whisked him back into surgery. He was bleeding. WAY too much. The next day a nurse told me that when he was in the second surgery, it was the longest 50 minutes of her life.

But he made it through the second surgery too, and the bleeding stopped. Well, slowed to a normal rate.

Mitral valve replacement surgery. Age 36.

april 18, 2011

I finally went home to sleep. Jan made me promise I would get at least 2 hours of sleep but preferably 3.  The night before I'd put the kids to bed only to yank them out at 11pm and take them to Lynette's house when I got word that they were moving him to the ICU, so now I had someone spending the night every night just in case.

I laid my head down in my bed that night and to say my mind was swirling would be a huge understatement. The thought of lying there while my husband was so sick in the hospital felt ludicrous. The LEAST I could do was to be there with him - but I knew that if I didn't sleep I would crash, and that was certainly not a good plan. I knew at that moment there were saints praying for Alif and for me and it felt almost like a physical covering. My Dad was at the hospital and staying all night - that helped too. I finally slept.

When I awoke I called my Dad to see how things were going. He said there was a doctor in and I said I would go take a shower and head over. Not more than two or three minutes passed and my Dad called back and said, "Hon, the doctor said there's no time for a shower. You need to come now."

It makes me quiver inside just remembering that moment - the fear, the FEAR. I prayed the whole way to the hospital, if it can be called praying to cry out over and over, "Oh, Jesus. Oh, Jesus."

I rushed up to the ICU and the pulmonologist was sitting in front of a computer screen. He showed me a scan of Alif's lungs, slice by slice, as if looking down on each section. The lungs should have looked black, open. Instead they were almost completely white. In a thick accent the doctor said, "Everywhere should be black. All of the white is infection filling the lungs. We are pushing oxygen in but there is nowhere for it to go." I stared at him, arms wrapped around myself. He said, "mortality rate is very high in cases such as this." I responded, "my God is bigger than that infection."

Then I walked away and cried. I donned the gown, face mask and gloves we were required to wear every time we went in to be with Alif and I sat by his side, holding his hand, praying scriptures over him, crying.

At some point during the day it was determined that Alif did indeed have a staph infection. Not only that, but his mitral valve was infected. This is a day we had worried about all of the time I have known Alif. We knew this day might come. We knew he should have his mitral valve replaced. We knew every little cut was a potential breeding ground for staph. We KNEW this. Why didn't we every take care of it?? Why had we waited until now, when he was at death's door? It was a major struggle on this day to forgive myself for not having been proactive YEARS before.

During these very early days, we were absolutely surrounded by our family and friends. Alif's parents were in Egypt, of all places, and we struggled to get ahold of them and let them know what was happening. People stepped up to take care of my kids, my house, my meals, and I basically lived at the hospital. I wanted nothing to eat as I constantly had a pit in my stomach, but those around me made sure I did anyway. We were - and are - so well loved.