Wordless Wednesday
Tag: family
Providence
Providence. A young wife stripped of her physical capacity, struggling to do basic things for herself as life moments pass by, leaving her behind.
Providence. A child living his entire young life consumed with the fear his mom is going to be taken from him. Calling her from school 4-5 days a week to make sure she is ok.
Providence. Two young girls swirling and giggling as they try on their mama’s wedding dress while she watches on, swallowing hard as she wonders if she will get to see them married.
Providence. A young boy looked over as having less worth because he is different, broken. Trying to scream his presence and purpose and his charisma for life from a body that won’t let him speak, or stand, or dance.
Providence. A thin sheet of water turns to glass as the tires screech across it, slamming the car into a semi, snatching away the life of a roommate, known, cared for, and needed.
Providence is a word I’d heard but not understood very much about until a recent sermon I heard from my pastor. I learned that Providence means God is in complete control of all things; there is no chance or fate.
This week I have rolled the word over and over in my mind, trying out its relevance, wondering if I have the guts to cling hard to the truth my mind knows even when my heart feels shredded.
What I am learning to believe about providence is that it is responsible for making an important story out of the hard path I am called to walk. When I view life through this lens it lends the hope I need to keep clinging even in these darkest valleys, though not easily.
Providence and I have come head to head this week. I have challenged why God’s complete control feels so out of control at times. I have pondered why if he is able to do immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine… why don’t we always get the answers we long for? It seems that sometimes when pursuing God, he cannot be located. What then?
I discovered reading the story of Esther this week that even in such turmoil God’s name was never mentioned, yet His fingerprints were all over that story! I knew God was trying to help me better make sense of the process and better accept particularly the things that we do not prefer or do not understand taking place in our lives. These things, hard as they may be are all part of God’s plan to develop us and take us from where we are to where he wants us to be. We may not see him, but that doesn’t mean he is not behind the scenes arranging every detail for His purpose.
Even the excruciating details. Even the ones that bring you to your knees, and the ones you don’t know how you’ll ever recover from. Every single detail with His loving heart imploring me to never give up hope that the hard parts I walk through are the beginning of something important and even beautiful that he is orchestrating.
Here I am, arms wide open, bleeding heart held out to You. Trusting you will take and use it for Your Kingdom, because I know You never waste our pain, and Your plans are so much greater than my own.
To My Son on his 21st Birthday
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.
Twilight
Today a nurse and doctor from hospice came out to my house and assessed my condition and the things that have declined for me over the past few months and weeks. We talked in depth about my goals and my family’s needs, and the reality of the days ahead of me. They interjected hard conversations with compassion and kindness and humor, and in the end as they admitted me under home hospice care, I felt as though I had been given a great gift rather than something to grieve.
How perfectly that word describes the jumble of days that has been this week… “the period between daylight and darkness.”
Thank you for hanging in there with me this week. I realize now that I dropped off the planet in the middle of conversations, appointments, and even in the middle of uploading a photo to Facebook! I know many of my friends and family members were wondering what on earth was going on and why I wasn’t answering.
This weekend my respiratory drive decided to take a vacation, and my family found me unresponsive. For my medical peeps, I had a GCS of 3 when paramedics arrived. I spent the first part of the week intubated in the ICU.
In the haze between sedation and full consciousness I was so blessed to know that some of my dearest people were there with me praying over me, reading scripture over me, and just holding space for me on some very scary and unsteady ground. Unable to talk, all it took was me scratchily scrawling out a name or two on a piece of paper, and my people came running to be by my side. I am so incredibly thankful.
My medical team worked hard with me, but it was obvious my body was tired. Each time they turned off the ventilator to try to get me off of it, my chest remained silent, and they had to turn it back on. What changed this was overhearing my husband ask what the next step would be, and seeing my doctor motion to his neck that I would get a tracheostomy. I scraped up what fight I had left in me and scribbled out “try breathing again.”
For the next hour I breathed, but it was like trying to come up for air when the pool cover has already been put back on. I fought and fought, but eventually I heard the doctor order the medications be drawn up for rapid sequence intubation; they were getting ready to intubate me again. Somehow in that moment of defeat I sucked in a thin stream of air, and then another. Little by little I was able to take each next breath on my own until I was finally resting back against my pillow, only a bipap mask supporting me.
I made it very clear to my doctors that my daughter was graduating high school on Thursday, and I would be leaving the hospital by then with or without their blessing! Thankfully my team was very supportive and worked hard to get me out of there in time. That seemed an impossible feat at the beginning of the week, so my heart was overjoyed to be able to celebrate with my girl.
I was there to listen to her beautiful singing voice peal across the arena in perfect harmony, and my heart sang. I was there to hear her name announced as she walked forward for her diploma, and my pride thumped swollen in my chest. I was there to giggle at the cute, triumphant face she made as she walked by the cameras with her prize in hand, and my spirit soared. The joy of the Lord is my strength, and he truly has shepherded me through some of the deepest valleys and the highest mountaintops this week.
I also delighted in the fact that my little sister and a few of her littles drove out for the graduation and I was able to spend time loving on them.
This will be the way forward for now, and we are grateful for the help to better manage things that have gotten frightening and difficult, like my weakness and breathing. I am grateful for this roll in seasons that brings these beautiful blue skies and warm breezes; ready to soak them all up with my people! And I am thankful for each of you who have faithfully walked us along this journey in so many ways. ♥️
Hard Questions
I was using an unexpected burst of energy to shuffle things around in my garage, attempting to organize the means of the DIY adventures that call to me on my stronger days. I must have been deep in thought, because the abrupt swinging open of the thick wooden door to the house startled me. A tear-stained face appeared, begging companionship. “Can I please talk to you?” “Of course,” I replied, and took a seat on the striped padding of our wooden bench. I patted the seat beside me, and there was an eruption of sobs.
“I just really, really don’t want you to be sick. I don’t like it, and I would rather die so that you can live a happy life.”
I was caught off guard by the heaviness of the situation, and as the lament continued I silently prayed for the right words to comfort this tortured soul. How do you answer the questions for which there are no answers? I was reminded of my notebook full of gratitude; all the beautiful and miraculous that is found woven through the mundane ache of every day.
When the slew of bemoaning faded into hiccuping sobs, I spoke. “Oh sweetheart, I /am/ living a happy life. I love getting to be here and be a wife and a mom and a friend, and my sickness will never take that away for me.”
“But why doesn’t God heal you. He can! Why doesn’t he want that?”
Admittedly it is a question I have also asked from time to time, but I gave the answer that has been whispered to me on repeat as I have studied similar stories of suffering in the scriptures. What if my suffering is the way into a greater love for God and his people? I have found that the process of walking with him through these deep valleys is teaching me how to better love and care for others. Maybe if I was not sick I would not know how to do that.
Not that I have readily accepted the hardships in my life. Not by a long shot. I have had my own sob sessions, wrestling long and hard with God, desperately searching scripture and asking really hard questions. I have waded through grief deeper than I thought I could survive.
The truths I have come to know, and that I shared on that dusty bench in my garage is that whatever trial I am asked to walk through, God will give me the strength to take each step through it. And if a terminal illness is what presses me nearer to his heart and grows my own to love others in a way that I could not have imagined on my own, then that is what is good for me, as well as for those my life intersects with.
Who knows, God may still heal me, but only if healing pushes me further into him. Only if healing accomplishes eternally what terminal illness cannot. These days my prayers are less for the removal of my illness and more for a greater number of days to love God and love people. I continue to press forward and fight toward that end; especially for my husband and my little people.
In the cold quiet of our garage that night, I explained that my present suffering is only going to increase, not ending until my death. Every day I am pressed harder into the story of the gospel, which allows me to fully trust the God who has numbered my days (Job 14:5), and to embrace the future of hope he has planned for me (Jeremiah 29:11). As I thank him for each new day, I search with intention for ways to leave a legacy for my children that will urge them to press into their Father God in their pain; to trust him with their hurt, and believe in him for their future.
He will meet us there.
Sola Gratia~ by grace alone.
Sliding Into Home
My youngest little turned to me a few nights ago and said, “Mom, I want to tell you something, but please promise not to be sad or upset.”
I assured him that I could handle whatever it was that he wanted to share, so he went on.
“When I was at practice today I saw a mom and her little boy on the playground. They were looking for something and then the mom climbed up and went down the slide and something in me triggered. I wanted to fall down on the ground and bang my head and cry.”
He slid his hand into mine, searching my face expectantly for my reaction. I think I did a good job of not betraying the chasm that cracked right through the beating of my heart. I smiled. I thanked him for sharing that with me. I told him I am sorry that his mom can not do a lot of the things other moms can do. We agreed it was hard and sad and unfair. And then I crooked-pinky-promised him that I was going to go down the slide.
Most kids get excited about a play date with friends, a new toy, the weight of a lemonade stand’s worth of quarters in their pocket… at the words that his mom would go down the slide with him, my boy’s face lit up like Christmas morning covered in a blanket of snow. “Actually?!” He beamed. “Absolutely. There are a lot of things I cannot do, but I can figure out how to slide with you.”
So transpired the day that we drove to the park, maneuvered the obstacle course to the top of the slide (because why just have simple stairs?), and made time stand still to the sound of my shoes squeak-clunking down the blue plastic slide that gave my son a moment of the most joyous normal that he could have imagined. He watched me slide, rode on my lap down the slide, and raced me down the double slide.
Even though there will always be things we miss out on together, I pray that every time he sees a slide instead of that painful trigger he will be filled with the memory of the day I said yes to reaching for more, challenging the limits, and grabbing hold of the joy that makes my hard story worth it.
Fighting Hard Battles
There is a saying we have probably all heard at one time or another that goes something like this: “Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a battle you know nothing about.” Compassion being one of the gifts I have been graced with, this quote always struck a cord with me and helped focus my thoughts on some important perspective through my early years. No situation has brought a more resounding agreement with these words however, than the one that hit closest to home.
His friends saw him become disinterested and standoffish; he started declining play dates in favor of spending time by himself at home instead of being the outdoorsy social butterfly that everyone was accustomed to knowing. They did not know that he was battling a suffocating depression.
His teammates saw him gain a lot of weight and struggle with his endurance and speed, and they teased him. They did not know that the medication that is keeping intrusive suicidal thoughts at bay has caused him to put on the weight.
He got in trouble for picking on one of his peers, and he was labeled as a bully and a “ring leader.” They did not know that he was relentlessly being bullied day in and day out and was keeping it to himself.
His classmates noticed him disappear and started sharing rumors that he had been expelled. They did not know that he was experiencing such toxic levels of stress that something was going to give, and so we stepped in to offer him the solace of homeschool; where he is now thriving.
His teachers saw him not give his full attention and best effort, and assumed he was unfocused and not willing to work hard. They did not know that nearly every minute of the day he was being tormented by the fear that today would be the day his mom’s terminal illness would take her away for good.
He got scoffed at for being too tired to go on a bike ride or run around outside. They didn’t know that for his entire life he has been sleeping on the floor by his mom’s bed to make sure she is ok, and it doesn’t provide the most restful sleep.
They saw his gruff, sarcastic exterior and chose not to pursue friendship; they did not know that those are just the masks he wears to protect one of the most tender, intuitive, and compassionate hearts they’ve ever known.
How many times do we jump to conclusions instead of loving big and giving people the chance to show us the beauty that lies behind the hard battles that we each fight? I am guilty of it too. Let’s not miss another opportunity to know someone incredible because we are too quickly assuming we know their situation. Take a chance; offer acceptance. You might be missing something big.
**This was posted with permission from my little man— one of the strongest warriors I know.
Waiting
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.
Echoes
Attempting to take my mind off of how much work it was to breathe, I started reminiscing about things I used to be able to do when Mark first met me. I imagined when he looked at me-the strong, physically fit young girl he met on the skating rink- he probably did not imagine that in only my 30’s he would watch me become weak to the point of barely walking, and needing help with many daily activities. During our early dates to sporting events, camping trips, and hikes, he probably did not fathom that in less than two decades he would be helping me to walk up a step or two, and many of our “dates” would become spent at doctor’s appointments or yet another night in because I can’t leave my bed.
For a moment my heart fell, and I began to let sadness and regret seep in. In that same instant I had a picturesque vision of all of our lives in a snapshot, and I realized that none of us are quite doing the things we used to be. I remembered we all eventually will lose the ability to hike a mountain or run a 5k. We will all start to skate less laps around the rink, until eventually we have to give it up for things gentler on our aging bodies. This convinced me there is something for all of us to learn in our “quitting.”
When we quit lacing up our skates and trade them in for a walk around the block what will we take from that time we spent reveling in the scrape of our blades across the ice, the giggling when we fell and embarrassed ourselves, and the tight arm-in-arm grasping as we clung to each other to stable our stance? I decided I will take from it the gift of having experienced new things. The smile of knowing my husband learned I am adventurous and a jokester. The peace of knowing that we had some important talks on those camping trips and hikes, and we learned to trust each other and respect each other’s opinions.
Each of these moments may not repeat themselves for us; either because of aging or illness or just the world changing with time. What a joy it is to know that rather than grieving these things we can cherish each of the important things we saw and felt and learned. Those are the things worth clinging to.
Eventually for each one of us all that will be left is the echoes of the things we used to do. I want my echoes to shout of my smile, my compassion, the joy that I am able to find because I have surrendered my life to the God who made it. What will your echo be?
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
Choosing Hope 