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Sink or Swim

This week was the end of me. I felt like the last drops in my cup were sucked dry and I had nothing left to give. Frustration over my exhaustion and inability to keep up in the midst of daily hardballs left me convinced the best thing for me was to quit fighting for well, anything. Least of all myself.

As my body does, it decided another shut down was in order, and my digestion came to a screeching halt. This led to constant discomfort, and frequent vomiting even though I wasn’t eating anything. For three days I was in bed burning through barf bags or clutching a big metal bowl while at the same time trying to single parent my little people and see that their needs were met. I was not able to get up and feed them one meal, so they did without or got by on bowls of cereal and Halloween candy. It is heartbreaking to not be able to do the things I want and need to as their mom, and the volume gets turned loud on all the voices telling me I’m failing at motherhood… and everything else.

This is a lonely season of trying to build community without always having the strength to do it. This means long hard days scraping by and simply doing the best I can usually at the minimum amount. I long to be in a place again of having community to surround us and pick us up and meet us in the messes, because doing it alone is awful.

Despite my grumpy attitude and dismal outlook God showed up in the flesh of a friend who saw my frantic social media post asking for help and dropped everything to pick me up and not only see that I got back and forth to a small surgery, but while I was under she shopped for meals for my kids and stocked my freezer with things they could make in my absence. The “Just Show Up” mantra that I’ve tried to make part of my life song was so beautifully expressed in the serving kindness of my friend that day.

It is embarrassing now, but I felt so helpless I texted another friend and told her I had nothing left to give and she deserved better than me. I basically told her she needed to drop me like a sack of rocks because I did not have what it takes to be a good friend. Instead of stepping back she pushed in. She responded, “I’m not letting you break up with me. You can’t get rid of me.” I don’t know what I was expecting, but her response cracked a small grin across the weary furrows in my face, and the brick wall I was trying to build started to crumble.

Thumbing through the pages of my Bible I was brought to 2 Corinthians 10:5, which reminded me I am to take each thought captive in obedience to Christ. I heaved a sigh heavy with burden, gathered all my thoughts of overwhelm, anxiety, and defeat, and imagined placing them at the feet of my Heavenly Father. Peace washed over me; relief that these heavy weights are not mine alone to carry.

I was reminded me that I cannot control everything that comes my way, but that I can decide if my life will be marked by defeat, or by a patient trust in a Heavenly Father who loves me and knows where I am at every moment.

I cannot help but wonder who else is finding themself at the end of their rope this week. I wish we could all gather in solidarity and speak truth to bolster each other in our capacity to carry on. It always seems easier to encourage others than to encourage yourself sometimes. If you are in that spot this week raise your eyes up; remember that the hairs on your head are numbered and the birds outside the window are under the Lord’s watchful care. As we reflect on Him it is easier to be assured of His strength and less intimidated by the size of our problems.

God has promised us abundant life. I don’t want to miss that because I am tangled up in worry and frustration over circumstances that are not mine to control.

Here’s to the ending of a hard week and the beginning of a fresh one, Saturday sports games, Sunday morning donuts, and knowing that we do not have to be strong enough to carry our own burdens. Jesus has us on the hard days just as much as the easy days and beckons us to take up His yoke which is easy and His burden which is light, and he will give us rest for our souls.

“Even though the fig trees have no blossoms, and there are no grapes on the vines; even though the olive crop fails, and the fields lie empty and barren; even though the flocks die in the fields, and the cattle barns are empty, yet I will rejoice in the Lord! I will be joyful in the God of my salvation. The sovereign Lord is my strength! He will make me as sure footed as a deer, able to tread upon the heights.” Habakkuk 3:17-19

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The Feeling of Fading

When I was given a terminal diagnosis I chose to fight for life. For time, for moments, for memories. Some days it is easy to do, and sometimes I am clawing and grasping at something that seems so pointless and out of reach.

Yesterday put me in a dark place. I had a doctor appointment about an issue that is fixable. Any healthy person would have walked in that office and been given hope for healing and a better quality of life. My third time in this office to plead for relief was met with the same disconcerted answers as before, even with the new information I brought. A doctor I have seen 3 times now, and he has not even laid a finger on me to understand what I’m going through because it is obvious he has already made up his mind that it is not worth it. I am not worth it. My condition is too advanced, there is not enough life to live to make it worth his time to help me. That tore me apart in ways I cannot describe.

I am weary. Every single day is so much fight, and sometimes it is hard to remember what I am fighting for. The memory loss from my brain surgery continues to torment me. It frustrates my family to the point of anger, and then leaves me feeling like I have done something wrong when really my mind is just tricking me into believing something different than everyone else. More and more I hold my tongue to avoid the embarrassment and the conflict of not remembering things. I nod my head and pretend to remember when I really have no idea, but it is the more peaceful path. That is not me. I do not hide.

My body is tired of the battle. My mind is tired of the battle. Some weeks that propels me to fight harder. This week it finds me burrowed under my blankets, hot tears burning scars down my cheeks. I do not know what the rest of my days look like. The only thing I know for certain is I have Jesus, and he is the one who has given me these days, so through my tears I pray he helps me to use them well. Feeling myself fading is frightening, and I don’t feel like I am courageous enough for the path ahead of me. I do know I am held though. Held on the easy days, and held on the days that seem impossible. Held in my determination and my hope, and held in my fear and my disappointment. He promises to carry me through the deep waters, so I pray he will carry me further than I can even imagine.

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In the Waiting

I spent the morning with my little on our knees in the dirt, carefully setting tulip bulbs in the ground as the bite of the brisk air nipped at our coats. He excitedly flung dirt with a small trowel, and counted out the bulbs, mixing the colors and nestling them tips-up into each hole. As we carefully patted the dirt down, covering the evidence of what lays below, I was struck with the symbolism of it all.

These bulbs, cold and papery, don’t look like much right now. They are carefully keeping a beautiful secret which won’t be seen until Spring, after the Winter storms and bitter cold have faded. How true this is of our lives. You may be in the middle of a hard season, worn by the beating of the storms and weary from the gray that stretches on for days. In these hard moments though there is planting; the lessons you are learning, the faith you are growing, the hope you are clinging to… these beautiful treasures seemingly lost in the bitter winter of what you’re going through will bring eye-catching wonder on the other side. Don’t despair; keep sowing in the cold ground, even though you can’t see it now, something beautiful will come of what you’re going through. Let’s wait expectantly together for Spring!

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Summer Lovin’

Every summer for the past few years we have started off the break making a “summer bucket list” of things we want to do during summer vacation. Some things are big, some are small, but the main idea is to be intentional about using our time. I am a homebody through and through, so I would be perfectly happy snuggled in my nesting place with my tribe. I have wanderers and adventurers though, so we try to plan some exciting things to venture out and try while we are free from school routines.

This summer we crammed in more than we usually do, trying to check off some unique things that I either haven’t done or likely won’t able to in the future. It has been a blast. I have dug deep for energy and stamina to hang with my people, and while the nights find me collapsed in an exhausted heap, it has been exhilarating to taste so many joys this summer. We stretch me out, hydrate, medicate, and wake up again to take on the next adventure.

From staying in pajamas all day and doing sidewalk chalk, to concert hopping and driving to new destinations, we are creating a beautiful bucket full of the exciting and the mundane of sweet summertime. What is on your bucket list this summer?

If you are friends with me on Facebook, you may have already seen some of these, but enjoy the pictures of some of our adventures!

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Incurable Hope

It has been a long six years trying to find a diagnosis. Based on my symptoms and the way they have progressively worsened, we’ve known it was some kind of degenerative neuromuscular disease, but we haven’t quite known the prognosis. Early on it was thought to be MS, and I was able to work through it, making some modifications to how I did things, but vastly able to continue life as normal. Things continued to decline though, and I found myself losing the strength and endurance I needed to continue working as a paramedic. This is when I cut back to part time paramedic, and also took an office job in organ donation. As fulfilling as that was, I eventually found myself no longer able to make the drive, or even remain upright for the hours that it required. Eventually I had to face that I could no longer safely work in any job, and I needed to save what little energy I had for my family and friends.

It’s been a frightening journey at times, especially with the unknowns, but we are beginning to have some clarity. A recent brain MRI showed significant damage to my brain stem, and basal ganglia, which are responsible for many of the automatic functions of the body. This information shed light on why I was having symptoms related to that area of the brain, like trouble regulating my breathing. All of these pieces started to fit together and pointed to Multiple System Atrophy. In some ways this was a relief, as the contenders like ALS have a very short length of survivability. MSA comes with its own fatal prognosis though, typically within 5-15 years. Being at year six, I already feel blessed for the time I’ve had and continue to enjoy. I’ve tried to stay in the moment and be continually grateful, although I’ll admit that sometimes my attitude stinks and I fall into a grumpy state of forgetting the gifts I’ve been given.

I know that God knows my heart and hears my prayers, and those of so many who love me. I know that He can take this suffering from me if He chooses to. But even if He doesn’t, I will still choose hope and thank Him for every moment He allows me to have earthside.

I hope you’ll help me, dear readers, to continue to find Hope and Grace in the day to day. I know that it’s there, and sometimes I just need help to lift my eyes up for it. Please don’t treat me differently; let’s laugh and dance and do big and small things without fear of the future. I’m ready for today, how about you?

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July 14th

Today we remember those last moments we got to know our Ellianna. We were thankful this week of her anniversary to get to be in Colorado to celebrate her mighty life.

Our months with Ellie brought us so much love, we aim to always pass that on and continue to let her life make an impact on others. It’s not always we get to be in her hometown, so we took advantage of being able to continue her legacy here. Since we don’t get to shop for our little peanut we went shopping for another little girl who needed love and encouragement:

Looking for things to bless a baby girl, we were overwhelmed with the small reminders of our little one. Purple with rainbow stripes couldn’t have more embodied all that we remember.

When I looked for a card, we immediately saw one not only with the little Piglet that she was known for, but the quote on the front was the same as is written on her headstone. I melted at the tender reminders that God knows exactly what our hearts need.

We packed up our bag of love and headed up to Ellie’s NICU. Tears brimmed as we embraced one of the nurses who has become a lifelong friend. We asked her to choose a family for us, and she knew just who needed the encouragement. Standing in that familiar hallway, we got to meet the mother of another baby girl there fighting for life beyond the hospital doors. It was evident that God had placed her nurse on just the right day that a weary mama needed the love and hope we had to share. There we were, getting to exchange hugs and a gift of love because of the short and mighty life of our little girl. I will never stop being thankful.

After the hospital, we headed to the cemetery to remember. I know many people don’t see the point in visiting the cold hard stones, but for us it’s a tangible place where we can open our hearts and express our sorrow and joy as we remember the moments where we stood between earth and eternity and gave our girl back to the arms of the One who holds her. It’s especially helpful for our other children as they bring tokens of their love and remembrance for her. Little Colby had chosen a special shell on the beach of Florida for his big sister that he brought with him all the way to Colorado. We enjoyed a beautiful stormy sunset as we each wrote notes to our girl and then lit them, sending them floating into the sky.

We are truly blessed to have gotten to be Ellie’s family. She has changed us in ways we all needed, and we will forever be grateful for every day she was with us. We will continue to find ways to share the hope we have, and spread the love she gave us, until we meet again.

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A Rock and a Hard Place

Sweet Hailie Marie. This girl has shown me more about perseverance than most adults I know. This world is going to feel more empty without her.

Hailie’s father, Mark, and I first became friends in middle school. Thankfully technology has allowed us to maintain our friendship through many moves and life changes. There is a quote from Harry Potter, however, that I feel explains the foundation of our friendship even better.

“There are some things you can’t share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a 12-foot mountain troll is one of them.” -JK Rowling

Our 12-foot mountain troll came in the summer of 2011. Mark tragically lost his wife while giving birth to their son. I tried to be a supportive friend without really having any idea how to walk with someone through that. Several weeks later, I unexpectedly lost my baby girl, and entered a whole new world of understanding the hurting. Going through those great losses helped give my friend Mark and I an understanding of each other, and forged a friendship of encouraging each other through a pain we both now knew very well.

I’ll never forget the phone call which seemed only a short time later. Mark’s daughter Hailie had brain cancer. It was an extremely hard thing for me understand, but I watched the family take this new challenge with strength and calm.

This is when I became privileged to know a little girl with fight and determination that is awe-inspiring. Three times over the next few years she fought this beast. She bravely faced the treatments that stole much of her childhood, and she pressed on. She’s fierce, and she’s gentle, and that girl always has a smile. It’s been tough watching her family walk through this suffering, but seeing how they handle it with such calm perseverance and deep trust has been inspiring to me.

Now we know that the time to fight has come to an end. That beautiful, courageous girl is not going to be with us much longer. It’s excruciating. It’s confusing. I know I have argued with God many time over allowing so much heartache in this family’s life. Answers to questions we’ll never know, but I do know that Hailie, as well as her family have given us all a lesson in perseverance, the importance of family, and the hope that can never be squelched by the darkness.

Will you keep them in your thoughts and prayers with me? These days ahead promise to be heart-crushing, and sometimes I lose the words to pray within the searing of watching my friend walk this path of suffering.

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