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Not My Will

Hannah

After 2+ weeks in the hospital, this past week was my week to get back on track. I caught up on late orders from my Etsy store, did as much housework as I could tolerate, and soaked up time with my people. Life started to almost feel like our normal again. Then Friday came in like a wrecking ball.

I found myself sitting alone in the emergency room with a serious complication of my feeding tube that would require a painful procedure. All went well and I was home and tucked in by bedtime with the assumption that I would wake with this small speed bump behind me. Then came Saturday.

Saturday we had lofty plans. With the temperatures trying to point to autumn, the kids had been bitten by the pumpkin patch bug, anxious to take our annual family trek out to select the perfect pumpkin and sip apple cider on hay bales. Then we had penciled in a night at the rodeo, having already laid out our flannels and boots in eager anticipation. That is until I woke up.

The pain from the day before was tolerable, but every time I tried to stand I broke out in a sweat, my body shaking as nauseating waves of weakness forced me back down. Trying to be optimistic we eventually cancelled the first activity with the thought that if I rested most of the day I would be refreshed enough to still clamor out as a family to the rodeo.

It was not to be. I continued to struggle through the day, and at one point voiced my frustration to a friend. She was quick to remind me of a truth that reigns thickly throughout my days. It’s not just me that lives not knowing what I’m going to be able to do tomorrow; none of us are guaranteed the tomorrows of our best-laid plans.

So how do we reconcile with that? The only answer is that each day has to be an opening of our hands, prying our fingers off of our own wants and desires, and instead asking, “Lord, how can I best give you glory and honor today? This can only be done by keeping our eyes and hearts on Him. We may see our days don’t look like we imagined, but the gift of that is the joy we find when we are in full surrender to God’s will for us.

My weekend didn’t include the pumpkin patch or the rodeo, or any of the house projects I wanted to work on. What it was laced with was grace for each moment— the ability to cozy up in a comfy chair and watch a movie at the drive-in with my people. The strength to show up to church to help serve and then soak in the worship and the message that clearly spoke to the things I’m walking through right now. The weekend allowed me the time and awareness to walk through some difficult circumstances and conversations with some of my littles. It didn’t look at all like I had planned it, but it looked like exactly where God wanted me to be, and I was there for it.

Surrendering our days takes intention, and sometimes it might feel like disappointment, but when the end result is us doing what God most wants us to do, it brings an immense amount of joy and satisfaction as He blesses our coming and our going for the ways it honors Him.

faith, Uncategorized

The Slow Fade

Hannah

Moving methodically around each raised bed of my garden I parted prickly leaves to get the clearest view where any new produce was ready for harvest, or any weeds that had sprung up among my vegetable plants. I plucked thin blades of grass and clover-looking leaves attached to flexible stems that had popped up since the last rain. I counted the pumpkins that were forming and twisted a cucumber vine back around its trellis. I was snipping off young okras when I noticed the difference, and it was profound.

Standing tall right between the towering cornstalks and the fuzzy buds of okra there was a different plant. Its stems were a rhubarb red, and flat pointed leaves grew abundantly from matching branches. As I examined these plants I noticed the leaves were close, but shaped differently than the neighboring okra, neither did they have any evidence of bearing anything of edible value. That’s when it hit me. These were weeds! Standing just as tall as the okra plants, and almost in neat little rows, it was clear why I had thought these had come from the seeds that I planted. I had been deceived from the time of tiny seedlings to these now towering plants.

I grasped the thick woody stems and yanked, but no matter how hard I pulled, most of them would not budge. The ones that did come up had impressively massive roots.

With these crawling tentacles beneath the surface of the soil I had to worry about how entangled they might be with my healthy plants, and many of them I had to just hack off above the ground, knowing they would need to be watched closely for regrowth. I was frustrated with myself that I had not noticed them and put a stop to them when they were seedlings. That made me realize how much this is like us missing the mark of God’s design in our lives.

When the wrong things we choose to do are disguised as something good; healthy green leaves in straight lines, it’s easy to overlook them. They creep in, and unknowingly we water and fertilize them, allowing the roots to grow deep and take hold. By the time we recognize there is something that shouldn’t be there, it is already so tangled around the healthy roots that it is sucking the nutrition from the fruit that is growing, and there is often no way to remove it without casualties.

So how does one prevent this kind of sneaky invasion? We have to be attentive, distinguishing what does not belong in our lives and uprooting it before it takes hold. The best defenses we have are spending time regularly in God’s Word, and faithfully in prayer, as well as having friends we can trust to hold us accountable; then we will be so immersed in truth that anything not of Him will be easy to recognize.

child loss, Uncategorized

July Fourteenth

Hannah

13 years ago we had to say goodbye to a piece of our heart and soul. Even though I had a peace about her returning to her Father’s arms, there was still a part of me that felt like she had been ripped from our arms. I wondered how we would ever be ok. How we would face each day with the crushing weight of having watched our youngest, beautiful daughter be laid deep in the ground.

Tracing back over the time that has passed since her death it is clear that even when I have lost myself in indescribable grief, I have always been held by the One I can never lose.

When I have thought I cannot go on He gives me incredibly meaningful reasons to keep showing up.

When I have thought the pain is too intense, He has given me important distractions to take my eyes off of my own pain.

This day will always hold some painful memories remembering the events of losing our girl, but it will also hold the hope of our reunion with her someday, and the remembrance of how God has carried us each and every step of the way.

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Buckets

Hannah

As I’ve considered the things I’d really like to do before my illness progresses enough to eliminate possibilities, I’ve kept kind of a bucket list of sorts in my mind of things I hope to get to do. At the top of the list was going to the beach with my family again. As time has slipped away though that has seemed out of reach, so when I discovered we essentially have a beach and sand dunes just a few hours from us by Lake Michigan, I jumped all over making it happen.

For months I saved up the earnings from my Etsy store so I could pay for us to rent a campsite and a comfortable RV that could power all the medical equipment that has to trail along behind me. I managed to snatch one of the last groups of days left for the popular camp spots at Indiana Dunes State Park, and started harping on my family to black out the days and make sure their bosses knew they wouldn’t be working. When one of my kids got pushback from their boss about taking the days off I even composed a carefully written letter about how important this was to our family, and praise Jesus he consented to approving the vacation days.

We planned for months… meal planning, gathering up our boogie boards, kites, and buckets for the beach, and rounding up sleds we could use to fly down the nearby sand dunes. Lists of medicine and machines I needed to have with me. I found an amazing RV nearby for us to rent, and got everything settled. I was so excited and looking forward to this time for all of us to escape our busyness and make memories together.

I don’t know if it’s sad humor or irony or what, but a few days before our trip I landed in the hospital as the result of a mistake made by the healthcare professionals. It was serious, and my hopes for a quick prescription and release were dashed as I was admitted and prepped for surgery the same night. Buckets of tears later I had begged and pleaded with each doctor, explaining the significance of the trip, urging them to let me go. It was not to be.

Father’s Day morning (and also my son’s birthday) was the day we were set to leave. The rest of my clan packed up the RV and came to the hospital to have a makeshift celebration with me before they hit the road for our vacation. There were to be no refunds for what we had paid, and by then there were no other days available to rent camp spots, so it made the most sense for them to go ahead without me.

The disappointment mixed with excitement in my hospital room that morning was palpable, and I felt genuinely joyful they were still getting to go, while at the same time deeply disappointed I would have to stay behind. There was a flurry of hugs and kisses as I sent them on their way, demanding many photos.

In the stillness of a familiar hospital room my frustration burned hot rivers down my cheeks. All the things I have lost to this disease, Lord, why did this trip have to be one of them too? The whole point was for it to possibly be one of my “lasts.”

In the painful silence of a room that overlooked a brick wall, I remembered the story of Nehemiah. A man who had worked so hard for something, and then had seen it come crumbling down. He says he sat down on the ground and cried. He mourned for several days and refused to eat. Then he got up and dusted himself off. He thanked God for keeping His promises, and he prayed for restoration. This is the heart posture I desire to have.

Charles Stanley said, “Taking time to lament what we have lost can be an act of worship. Nehemiah allowed his distress to lead him into deeper communion with God. Offer your tears as devotion to Him.”

I pray that through the many disappointments and missing outs of this disease that I will learn more and more to press into Jesus through my frustration and discouragement. I know He sees far beyond what I am able to, and I trust that He knows how to write more good into my story.

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Five Favorites

Hannah

Here I am again to share a few of my favorite things that you don’t want to be missing out on!

If you are a pickle lover, these are the best! I used to think Claussen pickles were the end all be all for crunchy, flavorful pickles, but once on a whim I grabbed one of these at a gas station pit stop on a road trip, and my life was changed! They are perfectly pickley, have an incredible crunch, and the serving size and convenient package makes eating a pickle in the middle of well, anything a pretty convenient and enjoyable snack. Oh, and Kroger often runs sales on them. Winning.

Perhaps I’ve mentioned it before… oh well, I’m mentioning it again. Mega Stuf are the superior Oreos. These are especially handy for the genius hack my son recently taught me, which is to slide the tines of a fork into the creme and use it as an instrument to fully submerge your Oreo in a satisfying dunk of milk. You just can’t do that when there isn’t enough icing in the middle. End of story.

Dollar Book Swap. It hasn’t been that long since we were let in on this secret, and we are irreparably hooked. Located on Webster street in downtown Dayton this hidden gem kind of throws you for a loop as you are creeping through dented metal doors and abandoned-looking warehouse rooms wondering if you’ve been duped for something sinister, but all of a sudden you turn the corner and your eyes cannot even soak in the goodness of how many treasures await you on shelf after shelf of gently used books marked up to a whole dollar twenty five. Yep, that’s what I said. $1.25. I have mentioned my appreciation for it being a hike across town for us, otherwise we would be running out of shelf space at home from too frequent trips to this magical hideaway. If you haven’t been there, put it on your summer bucket list.

Squeezy peanut butter. This one may seem strange to you, but I’m telling you I have cracked a code for dog owners everywhere. You know how when it’s time to clip your dog’s nails (again) and you find yourself doing some sort of jujitsu style yoga/stretching exercises to stabilize the paw you’re clipping while attempting to corral the other three legs, and you start doubting your life choices in getting a pet in the first place? Well no more. You don’t even have to get it on your hands or your good silverware; just squeeze a swirl of this oddly packaged peanut butter on your shower wall, and then enjoy the smacking noises as you expertly snip all five toes without so much as a pulled muscle before your dog even knows what has happened. Reapply as needed. You’re welcome.

Annnnd we are back to pickles. I had been tipped off about this mouthwatering delicacy right before my little sister came for a quick visit recently. In the 3 days that she was here, the two of us went from a new bottle to about a quarter of a bottle remaining. I don’t even care that every single thing I tasted that weekend was pickle flavored, because it was like living in the little world I created in my head when I was kid where everything was just the way I wanted it. We had it on popcorn, we had it on scrambled eggs, we tried it on cottage cheese, on cooked carrots, on mashed potatoes, pizza, and pretzels. There has literally not been a single thing I have regretted dousing in this stuff, and my salivary glands are currently wholeheartedly agreeing. If you are a pickle person get to Trader Joe’s, because you have not lived until your plate has disappeared beneath a cloud of this stuff.

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The Gift of Suffering

Hannah

Last night in my Growth Group we came across a verse in 2nd Timothy 4 that gave a charge to “endure suffering.” It was such a simple statement, tucked in among a small list of things we are called to do as believers in Jesus. I found irony in how matter-of-fact the command was.

Suffering has barged in on our most important dreams and deepest desires. We try to avoid it at all costs- dodging this way and that to ensure our happiness, comfort, and contentment. Enduring suffering is probably not at the top of our to-do list every morning. What if Christians believed what we preach though; that God is enough?

Psalm 146:5 says, “But joyful are those who have the God of Israel as their helper, whose hope is in the Lord their God.” He is enough to bring us joy, to make us happy, regardless of our circumstances, but we need to lean into Him.

Leaning into Him is something I have to practice hard at daily. I am sloppy in my suffering. However, I realize the gift that it is to me, because suffering easily strips away the things that become substitutes for my happiness, and it opens me up to the indestructible happiness found in God. When my hope is in Him I find I can more freely enjoy the good things He gives me, because I am not dependent on those things to make me happy.

When our lives are spinning along without the interruption of pain or sadness it’s easy not to feel a need to seek God’s help; He often doesn’t hear from us until we are weary and crying out for mercy. When suffering comes along we realize He is our only hope, which sends us running to Him. This is why I can be grateful for the suffering He has called me to; it keeps me dependent on Him.

What about you? When the burdens you carry have made you weary and sad, are you able to find happiness and contentment by letting God fill up your empty places? It can be hard, but it’s also liberating. Let’s do it together today. Wherever you are in your suffering, lean into Him. Give Him the chance to show you that He is enough.

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If Pain Could Kill

Hannah

Daily I live with a certain amount of lasting, chronic pain. My doctors have worked long and hard to try to manage it enough that I can function as much as possible. This week has brought difficult new challenges though. Regardless of what I do in a day, sometime around 4 or 5pm I’ve started having the most unbearable pain. My medications don’t touch it, neither do the handful of topical rubs I apply, or the essential oils I take by the capsule full. Obviously sleep evades me during this time, as I can do little to get comfortable with my muscles and bones screaming at me that something is very wrong.

There are a lot of effects of this disease that I can push through. I can go from puking to putting on a smile and showing up at church on a Sunday morning. I can be super short of breath and hook up to my vent and still make it to my babies’ concerts and ball games. I can go from fainting to re-orienting myself and carrying on with the responsibilities of my day. But this pain. Sometimes I don’t know how to push through.

After working in healthcare for so many years I’ve always tried to be really realistic when asked to rate my pain. I have the best chart ever, and often I refer to it to make sure the number I’m blurting out is on par with how I’m really feeling.

Most of time I’m sitting around a 6 or a 7. Nighttime lately is an 8-9. I find myself anxiety-ridden and begging for mercy. There are times I feel like I can push through anything but this pain, and I think to myself that if pain alone could kill, I would surely die.

I beg God that if He can take one thing away it would be my pain, because I feel like it’s the thing that makes my world stop turning. It’s the thing that prevents me from meeting my people.

Then I remember that pain is the thing that most brings me to my Father’s arms. It is what ushers me into the sacred places of other’s suffering, allowing me to be a channel of Christ’s compassion, comfort, and love. This season has been long and intense and piercing— but all of these tears and pain and desperate prayers have been not only for my own good, but for the good of other individuals entrenched in suffering. It is 2 Corinthians 1:3 in action:

“He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.”

Even living in the cruel agony of a terminal illness God is continually showing me how He turns my pain into lasting and eternal gifts. And so I find a way to cling to the shreds of hope and the miracles He works on behalf of His suffering children, and I can trust that He will hold me together and work these wonders together for the good of my soul.
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Making Lemonade

Hannah

Ever the entrepreneur, my boy is an experienced lemonade slinger. His delicious recipe and adorable smile keep people stopping , and most days he turns an impressive profit for a 11 year old.

As he started gearing up for the first sales of the season he said, “hey mom, you know how I was going to save up my lemonade money and buy a motor bike? Is it possible for me to save up all my money and use it for a cure for your sickness? Utterly humbled by his compassion and thoughtfulness, I did my best to explain that there is no cure; it’s just doing things to try to make my body as comfortable as it can be.

Flash forward to today- he was setting up his lemonade stand, and he paused to come talk to me. “You know how you said there is no cure for your sickness? Is it ok if I use my lemonade money to pay for the next few medicines you need?

There are few things in life that prepare your heart to be absolutely melted and shattered and hugged and twisted all at once like that. I’m so thankful for the empathy and gentleness that my boy is learning, even in the midst of such heartache.

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Guess What I Get To Do!

Hannah

When I became friends with Kara, we discovered our mutual love for Johnny Cash and even when she was in miserable pain we would sit on her bed and crank up the music and giggle-sing along to his lyrics, trying to imagine the events that let him to write them. Then Kara shared with me another of her favorite artists, and I fell in love with the surprisingly deep, gravelly voice of Ellie Holcomb as she sang about the power of God’s love, and the purpose within each one of us. She is relatable and honest, and her vocal range is perfect for me to sing along with.

Then Ellie surprised us all when she heard about Kara and she hopped on a plane to fly out and put on a personal coffee shop concert just for Kara and her friends. If she hadn’t reeled me in with her catchy tunes and honest lyrics, she certainly did with her giant heart and her selflessness. I mean, it was something beautiful to behold.

Kara meeting Ellie

In the years that have followed since that amazing night, I have hoped and searched and watched for the opportunity to get to see Ellie in concert again. Well guess what… it’s happening!!

In June Lauren Daigle will be touring nearby, and she just happens to have partnered up with Ellie Holcomb. I mean… I really like Lauren Daigle, but I am definitely there for the opening act, and the headliner is a bonus! I am a little kid jumping up and down excited to get to see this incredible woman again; to hear her soulful words of truth and beam back at that beautiful ear to ear smile that never seems to fade. She may never know my name, or that I was there in that intimate coffee shop setting that night not long before my friend passed away, but I will relish getting to be in the same room again, singing along to some of the best praise music this side of the Mississippi. I can’t wait!