Tag: daily graces

endurance

Heavy

Hannah

The past few weeks have felt HEAVY. One of my dear friends was diagnosed with lymphoma. Chemo has started, and with it the constant fight against weakness, sickness, feeling worse than the actual cancer makes you feel. It doesn’t seem fair.

Another of my friends was also diagnosed with lymphoma, and we are in the waiting of what treatment is going to look like. A period of time suspended, feeling strangely well despite the cancer that has invaded many corners.

My sweet friend with ALS had a bad fall and ended up with a broken shoulder. A long road ahead of healing and rehab and wondering if strength will come back enough to return to her home, or if a new, harder season is beginning.

Friends with children who are trudging through broken places, with exhausted parents who aren’t sure where to turn next, who just want to shoulder these trials so their children don’t have to.

My kids are struggling with some painful battles, and I have to stand back in silent prayer and watch them fight through it, knowing there is nothing I can do to take the pain from them; it’s a road they have to walk.

My husband is on several weeks of travel, which always feels lonely and scary and takes a cumulative toll on my strength. And of course it is always when he is away that Murphy shows up in all the ways like car trouble and kid injuries and leaks under the kitchen cabinet.

It all feels so heavy; suffocating at times. Multiple times this week I have found myself in tears, overwhelmed by the sheer weight of it all. Sometimes I have forgotten my /first/ defense is to reach for my Heavenly Father. I finally remembered that in a simple prayer yesterday; “please send help.” I’m sure you know even before the end of this sentence that of course God has shown up in the ways I knew I needed, and even the ways I had no idea I did.

He has given me the energy to go visit my friend between chemo treatments, the simple presence of each other’s company being enough to reassure me of God’s presence in this story. And a smile that even in his weakened state he cut the grass and welcomed me with my own parking spot. Daily graces.

My friend with ALS does not have much of a circle, and she has spent many long days and nights sitting alone in her hospital room. God gave me the strength and the creativity to go spend some time with her and to decorate her room with color and love, as my own friends have done for me.

He has given me wisdom, discernment, and patience to assess the needs of my hurting littles, and provide the best support I can at the right times. He has given me the privilege of coming before the throne in prayer for all of these things.

And all of a sudden, with praise music playing in the background, and friends who are willing to show up both in person and in prayer, the anxieties of my heart melt into deep gratitude for all the ways I am held and carried, and the ways I can hold and carry my own people.

As I cracked the book of my quiet morning devotion today, the words specifically chosen for this date wash over me like the healing balm that they are: “Come to me, all of you who are tired and have heavy loads, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28.

Another daily grace, God whispering my name, saying “I see you. Let me carry your heavy loads.”

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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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Thanksgiving

Hannah

In a season of suffering and deep grief, a day set aside to give thanks can feel counterintuitive. This week as I have pressed into a list of tasks to prepare for a day of fellowship and feasting with my family I have faced endless hours of debilitating pain, a frightening drop in function on a repeat breathing test, a company that has decided not to provide my tube feedings anymore, and fatigue that binds me with so much exhaustion that a whole day slips by without me waking. Admittedly, it can be easier to find things to complain about than to be grateful for, but then in my morning quiet time I am reminded that thanksgiving is the way we enter into and experience His presence (see Psalm 100:4). To say “Thank You, God” is to perceive Him with us in our suffering.

In the dark, painful corners of a Nazi concentration camp, Corrie ten Boom wrote, “Thankfulness keeps us connected to the reality of God in our lives.” If a woman persecuted and tortured for doing nothing more than showing love and hospitality can find reasons to give thanks during the darkest days of her life, than I have no excuse not to be counting my blessings. So, I pull out my journal of daily graces and scrawl them down on the pages; the easy-to-miss but very present reasons throughout my days to give thanks to a God who is acquainted with my sorrow, and is fiercely present in my suffering.

Gratitude is not always easy to embrace. Suffering affords us endless opportunities to complain and despair and harden our hearts. For myself, some days are so acutely painful that I wonder how is there possibly anything good to be thankful for today? Yet I continually find that just that amount of belief is enough to gently turn my heart and head toward my Savior.

To those of you that are trudging through deep grief and fighting daily battles that threaten to consume you, I see you. I hear your desperation and I feel your pain. Still, I urge you to lift your head and look around. Find the daily graces, no matter how small. Your warm cup of coffee. The sunshine streaming through your window. No matter how small your capacity gratitude in that moment, you will find yourself inspired to thank Him for more and more of His gifts and His goodness.

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FOMO

Hannah

As this year’s backyard vegetable gardens have started bursting with tomatoes and herbs and every size and color of squash the past few weeks I have found a gut punch creep in when seeing the ripe harvests sprawled across social media. Gardening makes my heart sing. The fresh air in my lungs and the weight of the musky earth beneath my fingers just does something so good for my soul. Only this year it didn’t.

This year as the frosty months neared their end and it was time to drop seeds into plastic cups of soil I was neck deep in my blankets desperate for endurance and relief from debilitating pain. As I considered the planning, planting, tending, weeding, and picking that would go into my garden again this year I had to swallow the hard pill that my body was not going to have strength to do it this time. The planting weeks came and went, and I was still in bed fighting for more.

Every time I glanced out my window and saw the barren garden beds sitting empty of their Springtime sprouts it hurt my heart. I decided it made me too sad to stare out at boxes full of empty dirt all summer, so I had my wingman take me to the store and I chose packets of flower seeds in beautiful colors and patterns. I summoned the energy to rake through my garden beds and pluck the stray weeds from the tilled soil. The packets were torn open and sprinkled across the soft soil and covered in compost. Finally I gave the ground a thorough soaking with the hose, and collapsed back into my bed anticipating what would grow.

It didn’t take long for small green stems and leaves to start pushing their way into the daylight. I was thankful something was growing, but as I scrutinized the growing plants I could not tell the difference between something I had planted and just another weed, and I started to doubt if anything worthwhile would be coming from my garden this year. That was about the time I saw the first post of a friend showing all of the produce she had pulled from her garden, and I felt sad and resentful and just really missed working the earth every day.

I finally had the strength one day to go out and have a look around. Picking my way around the lumpy landscape to get to my garden beds, I could suddenly see past the tall tangles of green that had taken them over. Dotted among the foliage were colors; orange, pink, yellow, purple. As I took it all in I felt the Holy Spirit whisper to my tired heart, “this beauty is for you.” A hug that gathered all my disappointment and not feeling good enough and wrapped it up in grace that extended beyond what I could have imagined.

Those simple flowers in their elegant gowns were the reminder I needed that this life will not always be what I want it to be. There will be places I fall short and mountains I cannot climb, but in place of those if I look in the right direction there is so much beauty to be found. Beauty that says I am still worth it and I am deeply loved. I may not be bringing in baskets full of cucumbers and zucchini to prepare for my family this year, but every time I look out my window at the messy tangle of green that has taken over my garden I see those beautiful colors standing tall in all their glory and I know that I am seen and known and loved. So are you, my friend. In your deepest disappointments things may not look like you wanted them to, but look around and you will find that there is still beauty to behold.

PS- for those of you wondering what on earth FOMO means… fear of missing out 😊

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To My Son on his 21st Birthday

Hannah

How do I write a letter to a 21 year old who used to fit in the crook of my arm with ease; the one I rocked and bounced and drove back and forth with for hours and hours when he would not stop screaming in the first weeks of life? How do I acknowledge adulthood to the little boy I taught to sing his ABC’s, and make himself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? (Wellll, we are still working on that one😉) How do I give permission to soar to the little sweetling that used to look back just to make sure I was still safely behind him?

As I rise to look my blue-eyed-boy in the eye, I see the reflection of each of these moments, big and small. The insignificance of how many months old you were when you walked. The monumental moment of greatest joy when you shared that you’d given your life to Christ. The skinned knees, the baseball trophies, the nightly kisses on the cheek that continue to this day. The victories and achievements, as well as the falling short and the battles. All of these tiny moments making the whole amazing you, and the joy and enthusiasm and determination that you bring to this world.

I am proud of you for letting each moment, whether easy or excruciating carve you into who you are today. I know it does not stop at adulthood; you have many years and many more small moments that will shape and change who you are. Promise me above all you will cling to your faith in God, you will be an advocate for what is right; standing up for those in need as you always have. Those truths I whispered to you in bedtime’s drowsiness, those songs I sang; keep them tucked away to always lead you back to where you came from. As you stand at the brink of this new ridge in your life, so much behind you, and yet such a beautifully immense expanse widening your eyes in front of you, I pray you remain anchored to that which is love and truth and family, and that you F L Y.

I love you, Jacob Andrew; the boy who made me a mama.

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Holding Space…

Hannah

I have not had much strength to write as of late. I do often in my mind; if only my brain came with dictation so I could get it written down. 😊

I am here still warrioring on with each of you who bravely get up each morning and embrace the good and the hard of your own stories.

One small treasure that I have been reminded of in this string of hard-fought days is that thankfulness if the key to peace. When my mind wants to run with with worry, I am practicing replacing those anxieties with thanking my Savior for the miraculous as well as the mundane, and He has been faithful to pour into me a peace too thick, too rich with the serenity of it all that it can only come from Him.

Is the roar of worry drowning out your thoughts? Try it. When anxiety creeps in, start listing the graces of your every day, and you too will find peace.

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Waiting

Hannah

For months I have been praying about a situation, asking God to clearly show me His will so that I would have peace and assurance in making a difficult decision. Admittedly I grew a bit frustrated and impatient as I sought the right answer and did not hear or feel one way or another.

I am a planner. A list-maker. A lover of straight lines and hard-core committed to doing things ahead of time instead of waiting until the last minute. Ha! Well, joke’s on me! Do you think God in His infinite wisdom knows this about me and perhaps wanted to work on my heart to teach me to be still and trust Him and His timing? *Sheepishly nodding my head*

Days ticked into weeks rolled into months and I entered the week of do-or-die, where I’d normally be in full blown panic mode. I feel like a lot of times I have gone ahead and jumped the gun; made the decision myself and put things into action. Strangely this time I felt a certain peace in waiting, knowing I had not yet heard the confirmation I knew came from waiting on God to move. So I waited. I reminded God why an answer sooner than later would be better for allll the reasons, but I waited.

He kept His promise from Jeremiah 29:13 where He said, “Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me, when you seek me with all your heart.” Down to the wire the answer came through. Clear as day, and from multiple different places He affirmed the decision I was to move forward with. One of the confirmations came in the form of a literal hand written note. There was no denying it.

Not only that, but I thought sure things would be screwed up from waiting so long, but every single piece fell into place with impeccable timing and not a moment late.

There was such a humbling in realizing God had it under control the whole time. He was not panicking. He was not making a mess of things by waiting until the last minute. And friends, it has been beautiful.

It has been beautiful because I know without a doubt I am walking in God’s will, and with that comes the assurance that He will bless this, because it was His idea not mine.

In what ways are you challenged to wait on God to move? Is it hard for you like it is for me? Us type A’s, we like to be in control and on time, and boy hardy is it a difficult, but so rewarding practice to be still and wait. Remind me of this the next time I’m ready to take things into my own hands, because I am sure enjoying the peace and success that comes from following what God wants for me instead of what my limited sight can see.


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After Surgery

Hannah

I know many of you that aren’t on my social media have been waiting on updates, and I’m sorry it’s been awhile. I need to teach my hubs how to post for me!

My first surgery went relatively smoothly. They were able to remove my gallbladder, and after some initial trouble getting me breathing on my own again I came back around and was able to breathe on my own with my normal oxygen and vent support.

Unfortunately during surgery they found my gallbladder had been backed up enough that stones were forced out a duct into my liver. The hospital I was at was not equipped to deal with that, so they packed me up in a mobile MICU ambulance and sent me to the bigger hospital in town, where I was taken back to surgery to clear out the tract and put a stent in my liver. This was a risky procedure, but was also a lot shorter, and they were again able to get me off the ventilator and breathing on my own once again. I’m so grateful for each of you that were praying for that for me; I truly believe God listened and showed me his favor through your faith.

The following days brought some pancreatitis as a result of the procedure. I wouldn’t wish that pain on anyone! I was blessed with frequent visits from good friends, which kept my spirits up, but made me long for home. With the days to Christmas growing shorter I was pressing my doctors to let me free. There always comes a point I get so desperate for home that I’d rather be miserable at home than miserable in a hospital room by myself.

I made it home on Christmas Eve, a wonderful blessing to be with my people in the comfort of home. I have mostly been in bed working on pain control and breathing, and my wing man has diligently been making sure to keep my tube feedings running, as my appetite seems to have left me somewhere along the way.

At times I get discouraged that I can’t jump up and mop my floors or pack up the Christmas decorations, and my mind starts running ahead of me too fast and wondering if my days like that are behind me. My kind Savior draws me back to His words though and promises to sustain me and my family in whatever capacity I find myself.

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”
‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭12‬:‭9‬ ‭ESV‬‬