Ever judged someone? Or been judged by another? Or cast judgment on yourself? Have you ever determined the outcome of a mistake? This post from our guest, Jayne Patton, will bring encouragement, hope and inspiration to your heart, sharing what God sees, even in our mistakes.
Everyone has a way they receive love. Gary Chapman covers the topic thoroughly in his book The Five Love Languages. From what I remember of the book, and from what I identify in myself, is that we receive from all of the five ways love is expressed, but each of us has a primary love language. Evidently, my primary love language is quality time. My secondary is acts of service.
But one thing I love so very much are words. I love written words and spoken words. I love the bridge words create connecting one person to another. And recently, I received the most beautiful words from a beautiful family.
This family gifted each nurse who took care of their baby with a rustic cuff and the letter below. I've changed a bit of the letter to protect the family's privacy, but wanted to share because of the insight it provides. Sometimes we get so focused in, we forget how much value each of the little things holds in the hearts of those we as nurses get to care for.
As I read through this letter, the following passage of scripture was stirring in my thoughts.
Matthew 25:34-40 NLT Then the King will say to those on his right, "Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the Kingdom prepared for you from the creation of the world. For I was hungry, and you fed me. I was thirsty, and you gave me a drink. I was a stranger, and you invited me into your home. I was naked, and you gave me clothing. I was sick, and you cared for me. I was in prison, and you visited me." Then these righteous ones will reply, "Lord, when did we ever see you hungry and feed you? Or thirsty and give you something to drink? Or a stranger and show you hospitality? Or naked and give you clothing? When did we ever see you sick or in prison and visit you?" And the King will say, "I tell you the truth, when you did it to one of the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were doing it to me!"
NICU Nursing Gifts: Letter From A Family
Hope- a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen, a feeling of trust.
We were so excited when we finally had our son on that autumn day in 2016. He was beautiful and sweet and just perfect. Then two days later we were told he wasn't going home with us and that our perfect little boy wasn't medically perfect.
Our emotions leapt from total joy and excitement to fear and confusion. The next few days are totally lost in our memories, and the following weeks were so emotional and draining. There is nothing to prepare you for the sadness and complete helplessness you feel as a parent with a child that is sick to any degree, let alone in and ICU where we weren't sure what the problem was or what the solution would be.
The things we do remember are the people who were there to take care of our son. Upon arrival at the NICU, a nurse had prepared our baby's bed with personal bedding and had placed the sweetest blue knit cap on his precious head. Within the first few days, our little man had a handmade name tag on the door to his room. A few days later, a nurse brought in an outfit and said, "Let's dress this sweet boy!"
Being such an emotional time, I had never even thought to put clothes on my baby!
November arrived and our little turkey got to make his very own first craft! A turkey! Made using his little footprint.
Nurses who had taken care of him before would stop in on their shifts just to check-in on him. We really felt as though the nurses here cared for his health and loved him as all children need to feel loved.
Although we as his parents were not the patients ourselves, we felt cared for. The nurses here engaged in conversation with us both medically to keep us updated and socially to keep us feeling sane and a part of the world outside of that room. Each night, a nurse brought in fresh bedding for us to sleep on and always asked if we needed anything else. We received comfort in the form of positive words or encouragement, friendly smiles and even a few much needed hugs.
You are what gave us HOPE. We desired for our baby's health to be taken care of and we had to trust that it would be. In some cultures, blue is representative of hope. The shade of blue we chose is the same shade of blue as the knit hat he received in his first night in the NICU.
When you wear this bracelet, please remember that what you do matters. You give hope to a lot of families. Your kindness, patience, and individual care matters. We are forever indebted to this staff and this facility.
Love, a NICU Grad's Mom & Dad
I pray this post spoke to you. Did you know I’m writing a book?! Crazy, right?! Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.
My great aunt and uncle lived in North Carolina and would come to Oklahoma once or twice a year for visits. Mostly I remember them visiting over the summer, but I also have some holiday memories tucked in my mind, visualizing a Thanksgiving one year and some Christmases too.
Although this sister and brother-in-law to my Grandma lived in North Carolina, I very much knew them. Aunt Venita and Uncle George were not the great aunt and uncle my mom forced me to hug or demanded I talk to. Actually, none of my great aunts and uncles were unfamiliar to me. I had the opportunity to build my own relationship with siblings on both my grandparents’ sides of the family. And one thing I knew about my Aunt Venita and Uncle George is that they liked Thank You Notes.
It was a pain as a kid having to write them. Although, I did love what they’d send me for my birthday and Christmas. I even remember my seventh birthday specifically. Aunt Venita mailed a pretty pink spring dress. I opened it and could not wait to wear it.
Seriously. I know we say that as a figure of speech, but I really could not wait, made evident by what transpired a few hours after I opened it.
I’m certain I tried the dress on, although I don’t specifically remember. What I do remember is getting in bed with such excitement to wear my new dress the next day that I could hardly go to sleep.
But I did.
And then I woke up. The fact that it was still dark outside didn’t mean anything to me. It was usually dark when I got up for school.
However, the fact that my mom was still there did mean something to me. She was usually gone for work by the time we were supposed to wake up.
In the moments before I realized this, I got out of my bed, wide awake and ready for the day, put on my dress, and my shoes, and exited the room feeling dressed to the nines, because in my mind, I was. Entering into the hallway I could hear Mom’s voice. Curious as to why she was there, I walked over to my parent’s bedroom door to see my mom in her pjs! I assumed something was wrong.
Oh something was wrong. Mom wasn’t late for work. She was going to bed!
I had such anticipation of wearing that dress that I had hardly slept and woke up round about time for the ten o’clock news!
I wish I could tell you I was just as eager to write the thank you note.
I wasn’t.
Nevertheless, over the years I learned how much a simple thank you note meant to the people who received it, and I began to feel that it was the least I could do for the gift of what they gave to me.
In fact, I screen shot this Facebook post back in May. A friend wrote, “I love getting thank you cards in the mail. It makes your gift seem appreciated. It’s becoming a lost art.”
She’s right. But not in The Meadows Home.
I’ve had this post stirring in my heart, and portions of it sitting in my folder for over two years. I took pictures of Caden writing thank you notes after his 9th birthday. At nearly every age I’ve had my kids write thank you notes. From the time they only had the ability to sign their name, to copying a formatted example I provide, to getting the gift list and writing them independently, each child has been raised with value placed on expressing gratitude in a note.
I know a lot of people approach it differently, but here’s a couple of my personal goals when writing thank you notes.
And for a little cake topper here, Thank You Notes are a keepsake. For the words person like myself, a special note can be retrieved on the difficult days, and in the trying times, to be the much-needed reminder of the goodness in life.
But there’s one more. Yep! Bonus material right here on heathermeadows.com.
I wouldn’t have thought about it, but now I know it—Thank You Notes can open doors.
Because my routine for writing Thank You Notes was established years ago, it was natural for me to send on a note of appreciation in 2014 to Video Revolution for their help in getting us set up with a camera to record some of our speaking events. That little Thank You Note led to a connection with Stevie Fernandez who invited us to share our story for Explore Tulsa a year later, and giving me his card for InVision Media Group.
Fast forward to 2017. Stevie created an incredible speaker video from Saint Francis’ Hospital Week for me, potentially opening even more doors to share not only my story, but the messages this story has written.
I’d say Aunt Venita and Uncle George developed something of great value in me from their expectations of a Thank You Note. If they were here today, I’d write them one to thank them.
Proverbs 18:16 NLT Giving a gift can open doors; it gives access to important people!
I pray this post spoke to you. Did you know I’m writing a book?! Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.
For over a year now my precious husband has been making a funny sound. And it’s not funny as in “LOL” but as in “bizarre.” To make it more curious, the sound is positional, meaning it is only produced when he goes to bed at night and lies on his left side. Furthermore, I don’t like the sound.
Knowing a little bit about blood flow, I’m not envisioning good things when I hear this sound. Our heart has four rooms, or chambers as we call them. Blood visits these four rooms. Blood returning to our heart makes its first stop into our right atrium. Then flows on down to our right ventricle. After it grabs some oxygen from the lungs it enters into our left atrium and then flows into the last room of our heart, the left ventricle. From there it goes on its journey through our body delivering oxygen to our cells like FedEx delivers packages to our door. Except our blood is also kinda like the garbage truck and picks up our cells’ trash while it’s there, but that’s a more lengthy post I suppose.
So. Considering that the last room our blood visits before it’s grand journey throughout the body is the left ventricle, and considering that my hubby makes an involuntary sound when laying on his left side at night, would make any person push for a professional assessment.
It took a year. First I suggested. Then I nudged. Nudging turned into pushing. Pushing turned into nagging. And then, as I’ve been known to do a time or two, I took matters into my own hands and called myself to make a cardiology appointment.
Puzzled. That’s what I would describe the cardiologist’s response. Brandon is not what we call symptomatic. He has no SOB. (I threw that in to be funny. But really, he doesn’t. That’s what we say in healthcare for shortness of breath). He can run without any issues. While he’s not as lean as he’d prefer, it’s not like he’s really overweight. And his EKG showed no concern with his heart’s electrical activity.
But his cardiologist was again, puzzled. Therefore, we went for an echo to get a little gander of the structure of his heart.
It’s amazing really that we don’t have to have a perfect heart for it to work well and sufficiently meet our body’s need. Which at the same time is both incredible and crazy. And realizing this provides much spiritual insight.
Ever wonder why there are so many scriptures about the heart? I mean why did the psalmist not say, “I will praise you O Lord my God with all my kidney”?
Instead the Psalm says in chapter 86 verse 12 of the NKJV, “I will praise You, O Lord my God, with all my heart, and I will glorify Your name forevermore.”
When we think about shock it definitely makes sense.
Blood shunts toward two vital organs when one’s body goes into shock. And they are two organs we read about so much in scripture. The heart and the brain.
Patients can lose limbs out of the physiological changes a body makes to preserve the heart and the brain. Reduced peripheral perfusion means it all shunts to the core.
See, I believe the science reveals the Creator and what He is telling us. Every part of our body is significant, every organ is vital, but the heart and the mind are core to who we are, not only for our physical existence but our spiritual life as well.
And while we give much attention to public service announcements, and funds to foundations researching and saving the lives of our physical hearts and brains, it is our spiritual hearts and brains that are most vulnerable to injury.
Psalm 7:9 NLT “End the evil of those who are wicked, and defend the righteous. For You look deep within the mind and heart, O righteous God.”
The Israelites used the words “heart” and “mind” as virtual synonyms to refer to a person’s innermost center of conscious life. To ask God to look deep within the heart and mind, means we are inviting Him to examine the hidden places of our heart, and the hidden places of our thoughts. It’s asking Him to perform His own echocardiogram and get detailed with us, evaluating the structure of our character and motive.
And that is something that is not natural. It is part of our human nature to hide. I mean, do you remember when sin entered into the lives of Adam and Eve? They realized they were as naked as a jaybird and what did they do? They hid.
Asking the Lord to examine our heart and mind is the most significant thing we can do in our pursuit of a growing relationship with Him, because it may be hard to work on the hidden places He uncovers. Maybe we like some of the stuff we’ve got tucked away in the rooms of our heart. Maybe we find some enjoyment in those secret thoughts we revisit here and there. Maybe we’re wanting all the goodness of God but we’re not quite sure about cleaning out and throwing away what we’ve got in those rooms.
But if we are to have a healthy spiritual life, we have to protect our core.
We can’t fill our mind with garbage and pollute our heart with impurity and still experience true living. No. That kind of living is a crisis-mode life. It’s living in a constant state of shock.
And God did not call us to live in critical condition. He called us to live abundantly and victoriously.
So how?
Well here is a scripture from Psalm 51:10 to post on your wall, mirror, fridge or car and wholeheartedly pray,
“Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me.”
Friends! We have to be renewed! Daily! We are just people. We’re not living as supernatural beings. We’re flesh and we need to continually draw near to the Lord to be renewed and strengthened.
Then ask Him to change the way we think. Talk about a new mindset. Setting our thoughts on things above has some major influence on taking us from a critical state to a powerful state. Romans 12:2 in the NLT says “Don’t copy the behavior and customs of this world, but let God transform you into a new person by changing the way you think. Then you will learn to know God’s will for you, which is good and pleasing and perfect.” If you want to have a healthy mind, ask the Lord to change the way you think. It’ll be different from the norm, but it will guide you to such goodness. It’s a kind of goodness that sticks with you even in the midst of difficulty.
Last one. Anticipate your mouth to follow. When you set your mind on things above, you think differently. And when you think differently, you sound differently. I’m not talking about the bizarre, out-of-the ordinary sound my husband makes when lying on his left side. No. I’m talking about what Jesus tells us about our hearts in Luke 6:45. “A good person produces good things from the treasury of a good heart, and an evil person produces evil things from the treasury of an evil heart. What you say flows from what is in your heart.”
Remember, we don’t have to have a perfect heart for it to work well. We simply need to allow it to be examined and treated by the hand of our loving Father.
I pray this post spoke to you. Did you know I’m writing a book?! Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.
If you prefer Vlogs over Blogs ….
Here’s a YouTube Link for you
*a special post from special guest Michele Lee*
Picture this:
You spend much time, thought, and your resources in getting the perfect gift. You put so much of your mind on it that “the gift” becomes a personal and real place in your heart. You go to the celebration with great expectations in watching the person open the gift with as much passion as you put into the process only to see them smile and politely say thank you and set it aside……BIG SIGH….Letdown.
Or maybe they show great appreciation but you see that they never use the gift….. disappointment!
The greatest pleasure and gift given me is to both teach and pastor. And yes, I can preach too! I have in one hand the ability to take information and clearly present it with novelty, but also depth. And in my other hand, I have a great need to guide, love, train, and be a safe place for people to gather—gifts that were given by our Lord Himself with the sole purpose to give Him glory in order to bring others to Him. Which is really the definition to a purpose-filled life.
But sadly, I was that person, like many, who was given this beautiful box with the most elaborate decorations that obviously showed the time and attention given to it. I opened these gifts one day, only to set them aside.
I was using one gift but not to its fullest. It was like having this piece of technology with a million cool things, and I used only one feature. Instead of using the whole gift, I smiled with a polite thank you and set it aside.
I allowed insecurities, inadequate feelings, and fear to stop me from real and genuine fulfillment.
I cannot set back and watch others make this mistake.
If I were to guess, there are people reading this right now that your gift is just sitting there, either unopened or collecting dust.
I can say this with certainty because I have observed much of this my 25 years in ministry and in private and public education. I’ve seen students and adults have so much potential, and use none. They find themselves aimlessly walking in circles to find purpose and success, and yet still feel so unfulfilled. I’ve watched people use the gift, but quickly set it aside because they feel “uncomfortable ” with it. I mean who gets a gift and is a master the first time with it? Not even the most technologically gifted people can say that.
I’ve heard many people tell me they showed up late to the party and did not receive a gift.
What?!
In God’s family everyone gets a gift! He’s just generous like that.
On the other end, I have watched someone so insecure, so unsure and so hesitant have courage to use the gift and become “beyond what they ever thought or imagined.”
Gifts are unlimited with our limitless God but here are a few to get your mind thinking :
The gift:
This is just to name a few, but please don’t believe that all of these can’t be in your life, because they can. A gift just means you’re really strong in that area or areas. And the gifts aren’t limited to one place. Your gifts are for every area of your world—home, work, church, leisure, and even strange, as in, not-part-of-your-normal-routine places.
Most people have allowed unfortunate circumstances or a bump in the road with people to decide whether they will use the gift. And I am here today…. writing this post…. to encourage you to use the gift(s). Trust me…. I had prepared another post and God took me here.
Three things happen when you use the gift:
1. God is glorified. Everything that good happens is from God. Matthew 5:16 tells us people will see your good works and glorify your God. If it ever becomes about you, it’s not from God and you will quickly fall short and be empty.
2. You are blessed. We were created with a void that only God can fill. When it’s filled with Him we are fulfilled. He meets emotional, spiritual, physical, mental, and tangible needs. John 10 says God has come to give you life MORE abundantly.
3. Others are blessed through your gift. You often are the game changer in someone’s life or circumstances. We don’t have to think BIG to bless people. It often is the daily moments we say “yes” to obedience that we bless others. Why else would Proverbs close its book with this beautiful description of a woman: “her children will rise and call her blessed”? Why? Because SHE blessed them! She said “yes” to using her God gifts.
When I made a deliberate effort to use the gifts daily ….. not every once in a while …. not when I felt good…. not when it was convenient, but daily use the gift and be passionate about it, things changed. All the excuses I made, He had a reply and the solution. He was just waiting for me to say, “Yes! I’m as excited to use the gift as You were to give it to me!”
Thank you God, that You love us generously. That You give to us generously. That You equip us generously. That You see each of us as your unique gift!
Happy to receive and use the gift,
The Mrs. Pastor
A Little Thought From Heather:
If I were to list out some individuals who helped me discover and develop the gift God gave to me, Michele would be right there at the top. She and Steve have not only ministered to my life for 23 years but they have mentored me, something I wrote about in a former a couple years ago called InspiringInfluence. Much of who God grew me to be is from their generous investment into my life. I’m overjoyed to have Michele share with us and challenge our hearts on our online home and I invite you to take some time to visit her at her online home, The Mrs. Pastor Blog. I’m certain you’ll be sharpened and inspired in your time reading around there. Heather
*I pray this post spoke to you. Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.*
About Little Bit About Michele
My name is Michele and my husband Steve and I have three beautiful girls. Morgan, my oldest is married and works hard at whatever her hands set out to do. Lauren is an Elementary Education major at Oklahoma State University (our alma mater) and Kinsey just graduated High School and will be with sister at OSU seeking to major in Sports Media. We are a Disney family….its our happy place. It was a childhood memory of mine and I wanted it to be for my girls as well. I also am a second grade teacher and have the awesome opportunity to make the classroom another ministry opportunity.
I am the “Mrs. Pastor”. A dear friend gave me that nickname, and it just stuck with me. I never wanted to have the label as “pastor’s wife” (even though I love my husband and am proud to stand beside him!). I have my own identity, callings, giftings, and voice. When I finally realized this, I had purpose.
We have served in ministry for 25 years. We started off volunteering in college and were soon called to Coweta Assembly and have been here ever since. We served as the youth pastors for 15 years, associate pastor for 2 years, and have been the lead pastors for 7 years.
We have been blessed to have so many people we consider family. We have been blessed to havementored teenagers and then watch them grow into strong adults, couples, and parents. We have been blessed that our children have been a part of one community their entire school years.
My giftings: teaching and prayer
My greatest improvement: confident leadership
My favorite involvement: praying over the people
My biggest hangup: talking during service
My enjoyment: reading (the word and novels)
My favorite woman speaker: It’s a tie….Pricilla Shirer and Joyce Meyer
My saddest memory: When my husband, Steve, was burned
My greatest wish: to leave the greatest spiritual legacy to my girls….and they do the same for their children
My vision: to see a growing, thriving, loving, prospering, spirit-led, hungry-for-the-things-of-God, joyful, positive group of people who are prayed up and excited to be in God’s house each time the door is open.
My dream: to work side by side with my husband full time
My love language: I think I have two: acts of service and time
I’d love to hear from you.
The Mrs. Pastor
If you prefer Vlogs over Blogs …..
Here’s a YouTube link for you
I remember years ago listening to parents comment on this time of year. Statements like, “I cannot WAIT for school to start” or “It can’t come fast enough” just made me a little sad inside.
I wondered, “How could anyone ever feel that way about their children? Their precious babies. Their little miracles from Heaven.”
Well, let’s just say, “For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under Heaven.” And for the parents in this house, school is an activity under Heaven we are so grateful to have. That Solomon sure knew what he was talking about!
There was a season of my life that I couldn’t even imagine receiving delight from the first day of school. I’ve even written about the emotional challenges of our little ducklings setting sail into a new school year. But that season is o-ha-ver-er! Yep. Just imagine it like Jim Carrey saying it, making over into a four-syllable word.
Don’t get me wrong. I love my children. And so did all those parents I’d listen to years ago and wonder where, in their heart, could they want their children to leave them for hours each day of the week.
No. They loved their children. Just as much as I loved and love mine. They were just speaking from a different season.
For example, a season like the one we’re in. You know. Two teenagers in the house. TWO!!! One of them being a female! The cry of my heart day-in and day-out, “Dear Jesus, help us!” But let’s not put it all on the teens. Oh no, no. The others. Those other two gave me a nice illustration just this past Sunday for how very timely the school year starting was for our home.
Standing at the ironing board for over four hours was not the ideal way to spend my Sunday afternoon. However, it is my own fault. If I didn’t despise the task so much I wouldn’t have to spend such large chunks of time. Guess it’s part of that whole a stitch in time saves nine thing. But I don’t do stitching either so, carrying on.
Here I am at the ironing board with a boatload of wrinkled clothes draped across the couch awaiting the steam, when Caden comes down stairs half smiling in an attempt to avert his need to cry.
He said, “Mom, Gavin bit me.”
Puzzled, I replied with a question, “He bit you?”
Caden raises the leg of his shorts to reveal a bite on the inside of his thigh! The inside of his thigh! Wow! Talk about pain! And problems. Wooie! Gavin was in trouble! Yep. Say that one with at least three syllables to get the intensity of the moment.
While I’ve never been a biter, I do get that even the best of circumstances lose thrill and passion.
I mean I’ve seen the Disney traveling families who have had so many magical moments they are over it! Over. It.
I also remember back to those days having my very, very best friend in the whole entire world, over to stay the night. One night wasn’t enough. So we’d ask for another night. Then that night wasn’t enough so we’d ask ,pretty please, for just one more! You know the story. After a week we were so sick of each other that every little thing brought aggravation and annoyance. It was like, “When is she going home?!”
Point is. Too much of a good thing is a bad thing. And too much of summer break, too much of staying home together in the same general area can end up turning something good into something not so good.
And another point. Enjoy the season. Soak it up.
My Mom has been the best example to me in that. So many times we say, “I can’t wait till this” or “I just wish I could go back to that.”
You’ll never hear my Mom carrying on about how she wished she could go back to soak up more moments. And the reason this is so significant is because my Mom only had nine years of her life to spend with her baby boy. We’d all understand wanting to live in the past when the past is the only place you have with one you love. But that is why we make the most of today, because we never know what tomorrow holds.
My Mom truly makes the most of every opportunity. She lives in the here and now. Life is happening today. Not yesterday. Not tomorrow. Today.
Which brings me to my most favorite back-to-school post I saw, and last focus point to share. It said, “180 days of opportunities to make a difference.”
Wow!
Or as Junie B. Jones would say, “Wowie! Wow! Wow!”
Each day is an opportunity to make a difference. Our kids walking the halls of their school. Our kids sitting at their lunch table. Our kids playing at recess. Our big kids pulling into the parking lots, sitting in their concurrent-enrollment courses and working at their part-time jobs. From taking tests to simple interactions with teachers and peers, our kids have an opportunity every single day to make a difference. How in the world could we hoard that?!
And each day they head out the door and each night we tuck ‘em into bed, we echo the prayer of this back-to-school post,
“Praying for a productive year filled with physical, mental and spiritual growth. New friends. New memories. And lots of fun!”
Happy Back to School!!!!
Go make it awesome!
Colossians 4:5-6 NLT Live wisely among those who are not believers, and make the most of every opportunity. Let your conversation be gracious and attractive so that you will have the right response for everyone.
I pray this post spoke to you. Did you know I’m writing a book?! Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.
Brooklyn ~ 11th —- Jaron ~ 8th —- Caden ~ 5th —- Gavin ~ 2nd *if Brooklyn wasn’t wearing heels she’d be eye-to-eye with her oldest little brother
If you prefer Vlogs over Blogs then here’s a YouTube link for you
Have you ever had the wind knocked out of you? I mean literally. Have you ever been met with such force that you lost your breath and momentarily lost the ability to take in another one?
There are a few things I think about when I imagine taking a breath. It has to do with tidal volume and vital capacity and respiratory nursing world technicalities. But before I learned about all of that terminology and mechanics of lung function, I learned what it felt like.
I remember back to my seven-year-old days being mechanically ventilated. Being intubated. Some call it life support.
I remember coming out from sedation.
Sedation. Those drugs that make you sleep; time passing without ever even knowing its existence.
I remember having moments of wakefulness and feeling that tube in my throat and thinking, I can’t breathe. It’s a scary feeling.
In a more common experience, I remember having the breath literally knocked out of me when I was about ten. My best friend Brad lived just down the road. Brad and Jon were the same age and after Jon died, Brad stepped in, giving his best to provide all the big-brother experiences he knew Jon would have given me. Like taking me fishing. Which included him fishing my hook out of his own hand on more than one occasion. Obviously, fishing wasn’t my knack. But Brad insisted I go nevertheless.
He’d call and scream into the answering machine on the early summer-break mornings, telling me to get my butt out of bed. If that didn’t work, he’d make his way down to the house to pester me awake. And we joined up for a decent amount of mischief, as Jon would have wanted, including throwing eggs off structures that I’m pretty sure people get arrested for. Brad was a gift of God’s grace in the tragedy of losing Jon. They were best friends, so having him was like getting to keep a piece of Jon.
However, I’m not sure I was thinking that the day he body slammed me over the couch. Don’t get me wrong- I deserved it. I had wrestled with the boys from my earliest beginnings. That’s what happens when you’re the only girl and the baby. If ya wanna be included, you got to run with the big boys. Who knows? Maybe it’s what developed my toughness for the road of recovery I faced.
But that day I hit the edge of the couch and fell off to the floor on my back, I looked at the ceiling and could not breathe. It was momentary, but no breath was to be caught. It scared me. And I think it scared Brad a little too.
I haven’t had the breath knocked out of me since that day. As I grew into a lady, I stopped wrestling with my big-brother figure and I played it safe going into vocal performance rather than high-impact activities. But life has knocked the breath out of me many times over.
I remember having a dear friend, whom I loved very much, say something completely untrue about me. Our friendship shattered. It took my breath away.
I remember sitting on an exam table and my obstetrician compassionately apologizing for our miscarried pregnancy. The feeling of emptiness took my breath away.
I remember being back in the burn unit recovering from skin grafts and Brandon walking in to my bedside telling me my Dad had passed away. I was in the same place I was when I found out my brother was dead seventeen years earlier. It took my breath away.
I remember my child making poor choices and receiving text messages from someone I loved and trusted telling me the behavior was linked to the way I had made my child feel. I was on the floor of parenting despair and that took my breath away.
I remember Brandon calling to tell me he had good news and bad news. Good news he was coming home and would get to spend the day with us. Bad news was he had lost his job in a highly unanticipated layoff. It took my breath away.
I could continue to trace back some moments where I felt someone had just knocked the wind right out of me, but the more important part is sharing how I got the breath to carry on.
There’s a worship song by All Sons and Daughters called, Great Are You, Lord. Here are some of the lyrics—
You give life, You are love
You bring light to the darkness
You give hope, You restore
Every heart that is broken
Great are You, Lord
It’s Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise
We pour out our praise
It’s Your breath in our lungs
So we pour out our praise to You only
There are some key points to grab onto right there. When there is no breath left in you, He is your breath. God is breathing into our lungs. He is breathing in His life. His love. His light. His hope. We come up empty. We come up with darkness. We come up with brokenness. We come up apneic—that’s nursing terminology meaning not breathing. And He provides. Add this one to your playlist and sing it out when life’s trials, challenges and circumstances have knocked the wind right out of you. Praising Him in the storm restores and strengthens in supernatural ways we can’t even imagine.
So there’s one way—worship Him.
Here’s another—read, recall and repeat His Word. Psalm 34 is below with some bolded truths that I cling to. Remember—read, recall, repeat. There’s power in His Word! There’s breath for our life!
And finally, communicate to Him and His people. If you can’t breathe, you need intervention. I realized this when Jaron was born. Poor little fella couldn’t breathe—here’s that apnea word again, and retractions and all the things that go along with respiratory distress syndrome. It was more than a little skin-to-skin with mom could cure. Jaron Michael needed help. Specifically he needed some mechanical ventilation, but point is, when we need a breath, God is there to give it, but we need to reach out to Him and the people He longs to use to help us.
When life has knocked the wind right out of you, when there’s an internal anxiety and despair for air; let His peace, His presence and His breath fill your lungs as you walk in trust and rest. God is holding on to you.
I pray this post spoke to you. Did you know I’m writing a book?! Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.
Psalm 34 NIV
I will extol the Lord at all times;
His praise will always be on my lips.
2 I will glory in the Lord;
let the afflicted hear and rejoice.
3 Glorify the Lord with me;
let us exalt His name together.
4 I sought the Lord, and He answered me;
He delivered me from all my fears.
5 Those who look to Him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.
6 This poor man called, and the Lord heard him;
He saved him out of all his troubles.
7 The angel of the Lord encamps around those who fear Him,
and He delivers them.
8 Taste and see that the Lord is good;
blessed is the one who takes refuge in him.
9 Fear the Lord, you his holy people,
for those who fear him lack nothing.
10 The lions may grow weak and hungry,
but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.
11 Come, my children, listen to me;
I will teach you the fear of the Lord.
12 Whoever of you loves life
and desires to see many good days,
13 keep your tongue from evil
and your lips from telling lies.
14 Turn from evil and do good;
seek peace and pursue it.
15 The eyes of the Lord are on the righteous,
and His ears are attentive to their cry;
16 but the face of the Lord is against those who do evil,
to blot out their name from the earth.
17 The righteous cry out, and the Lord hears them;
He delivers them from all their troubles.
18 The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
and saves those who are crushed in spirit.
19 The righteous person may have many troubles,
but the Lord delivers him from them all;
20 He protects all his bones,
not one of them will be broken.
21 Evil will slay the wicked;
the foes of the righteous will be condemned.
22 The Lord will rescue His servants;
no one who takes refuge in Him will be condemned.
I am a girl who likes to eat, but doesn't cook. In other words, I cook to eat. Kind of ironic that I have a cookbook I’ll be offering for purchase soon. But if you’re anything like me, you’ll love this cookbook. Zero intimidation for those just needing to fix some food.
Some people get real creative in the kitchen. The ideas start flowing as they get out bowls and ingredients, pots and pans, spatulas, spoons and rolling pins. Not me. I have the stuff. I just don't have the passion.
What I do have passion for is people. And I love when people come to our home, sit around our table, or out on our patio, and eat with us. Which is what happened just a couple weeks ago when my friend from work was coming for dinner and a visit with her hubby and three kiddos.
I decided a nice chicken-pot pie would be a good fit for the evening; I could prepare it ahead and it would be easy clean up. Win. And win!
So there I was before dawn that Tuesday morning. I got my chicken going in the pressure cooker and started on my piecrust. I rolled it out, transferred it to my 9x13 dish, put the remaining crust in a zip-lock bag and placed it in the fridge to use for the top later. Check. Check and check. I was feeling quite productive, as the sun still had not even begun to rise.
The morning was going to be a full one, and so was the rest of the day, so it felt oh so good to get this dinner prepared in advance.
Let's fast-forward to an hour and a half before our guests are scheduled to arrive.
Feeling like I've done pretty much all the work already, I come into the kitchen, get out my chicken I have already deboned and shredded, remove my already pie-crust-assembled 9x13 dish from the fridge, along with the zip-lock bag of the crust I was using for the top of my pot pie. I stirred together all my remaining ingredients in a bowl with my chicken, added seasoning to my liking, hoping it's what my guests will like too, and then pour the contents into the awaiting casserole dish. Oh this feeling is so good! I'm just going to roll out the top, toss it on, throw the dish in the oven and get my shower in plenty of time to spare.
At this point I'm feeling quite good at my early arising, thinking that this is what Proverbs 31 women are made of.
The feeling shifted.
Quickly.
I floured my surface and began to roll out the remaining piecrust. I'm sure everyone who loves to make pies would have a plethora of suggestions and most certainly corrections for what was taking place. Let's just say, I was having some challenges getting my piecrust rolled out as smoothly as I did earlier that day. I got to thinking that maybe I'd just have to start over and make an entire batch of crust again, but before I did, as time was ticking away and it seemed I was now on the verge of possibly needing to rush, I took that crust in my hands and said, "Lord, You make all things good. Please make this pie crust good."
Yes. I prayed over my piecrust. We've shared this blogging journey long enough now for you to know that I lean heavily on the Lord's intervention over my daily activities. I'm just a mess. In so many ways. But I know He cares about these little things too.
So there I go with a renewed confidence that the piecrust will be easier to work with. And guess what? It was! I rolled that puppy out with ease. I delicately rolled it up, grabbed two spatulas, came at it, inserting a spatula on each side, and I held my breath as I slowly and carefully transferred it over to the top of the chicken pot pie. I laid it down ever so easily, and feeling like the hardest part was behind me, I let out a sigh of relief and began unrolling it, covering the top of the pie.
So…… the Lord made it good.
I just didn't make it long enough!!!
I think I said out loud, "you have got to be kidding me?!?!"
The rush was on. Without a doubt I needed to make another batch of piecrust. And I did. In record time. Not in record time for those cooking shows, but in record time for me.
As I'm sifting the flour, adding in some crisco, and topping it with a beaten egg, vinegar and water, I'm asking myself, "Why do you do this? Why do you want to cook for people?" And while the question was a thought, the answer was a verbal statement.
"People don't come for the perfect meal but for the personal connection.”
Yep. That’s what I said out loud for my ears to hear and to get my mind focused on the bigger picture of this let’s-get-together-for-dinner idea.
The thing is, I’ve been in some homes where I’ve eaten some amazing food, but didn’t receive a sprinkle of hospitality. And honestly, I’d rather have a ham sandwich with a side of hospitality than a filet minion with none.
With that thought, I quickly added some additional crust to the bare part of my chicken-pot pie. I wish now that’d I’d have taken a picture, but at the moment I was working through everything I could to stay focused on the people and not the pot pie. But let me just tell you. My chicken-pot pie looked like it had a diaper! My original crust that wasn’t long enough, met with my additional crust and it pretty much looked like a diaper. But you know what? Our company loved it! And what they loved more was the time we were able to spend together.
We sat around our kitchen table for nearly 3 hours visiting, laughing and telling stories. We watched pool-soaked kiddos pop in and out of the house with giggles of goodness, a toddler make the most fun of a box of tissues, and Ruby even got to enjoy her favorite past time with our sweet friends, a few rounds of some intense tug-of-war.
And to think I could’ve let an imperfect pot-pie make me feel inadequate for such an experience. I would’ve missed so much.
Luke 10:38-42 NLT As Jesus and the disciples continued on their way to Jerusalem, they came to a certain village where a woman named Martha welcomed Him into her home. Her sister, Mary, sat at the Lord’s feet, listening to what He taught. But Martha was distracted by the big dinner she was preparing. She came to Jesus and said, “Lord, doesn’t it seem unfair to you that my sister just sits here while I do all the work? Tell her to come and help me.” But the Lord said to her, “My dear Martha, you are worried and upset over all these details! There is only one thing worth being concerned about. Mary has discovered it, and it will not be taken away from her.”
By the way—come to find out, there’s a reason I’ve always felt frustrated with my chicken-pot pie. I’ve been working with half the dough. Through a conversation with my Mom about the ordeal it was revealed that I’ve been trying to make half as much go twice as far! Good grief! Now THAT is a completely different lesson, maybe we’ll revisit in a future post someday.
Until next time…. Reach out. Love and be loved. Be hospitable. Make connection. Soak up the opportunities. Whether it’s china or chinet, whether it’s roasted lamb or a diapered pot pie—personal connection is the goal!
I pray this post spoke to you. Did you know I’m writing a book?! Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog, sharing with your friends and family, or making a purchase below? We can’t grow with out you.
*a special post from special guest Kim Couch*Ten. Ten Years. Ten years ago, I was finishing my first year of teaching, trying to figure out how to be a mom to my 18 month-old son, and building a new house with my husband. It was a time in my life when I was in a good place. It was also ten years ago that I found a lump in my breast. So, at that point when I felt everything was coming together--everything came to a halt. In June of 2007, at the age of 28, I was diagnosed with Stage 2 Invasive Ductal Carcinoma. The only previous experience I’d had with breast cancer was the loss of my high school friend’s mom due to the disease. So, that was it. The only person I’d known with cancer had lost her battle about ten years prior to my diagnosis. It was at that very moment when I felt like I had been given a death sentence
Little did I know, while I was trying to grasp my new reality, God had already lined up numerous people in my life who would have an impact on the journey my family was about to start. Our family friends had resources that led me to Cancer Treatment Centers of America with the most amazing doctors and medical team. Our pastor’s wife was a breast cancer survivor, so she was able to be an encouragement to me along the way. Once I got set up with my medical team and had a plan, I was ready to go into battle. I had decided that my attitude would be a major impact in my ability to beat this disease! So right then and there, I decided that I would be positive and try to show God’s light to those around me. I had a bilateral mastectomy, eight rounds of chemotherapy, and 30 rounds of radiation. I started in July 2007 and finished my treatments in April 2008.
One of the first things I remember asking my doctor was, “Does breast cancer mean I can’t have any more children?”
His response was, “Not now, but I’m not saying never.” As time passed, I would ask him the same question. Ultimately, the answer was the same.
There were many things on the journey that were hard, but looking back, the two hardest things for me were losing my hair and not knowing if I would ever have more children. As I progressed on my treatment plan, my hair began to grow back, but I was still left with the pain of not having more children. There were points during this journey when I would imagine having another baby; however, while I obviously wasn’t pregnant, several of my friends were preparing for babies in their lives. Although I was excited for them, it was truly a difficult time. Please understand, I was grateful for my family of three and wasn’t willing to jeopardize my health, but I was still mourning the plans I had for my family. My husband and I talked about and were open to the idea of adoption, but nothing seemed to work out for us. I learned our plans are not always God’s plans.
Finally, after about four years, my oncologist began to discuss the possibility of becoming pregnant. Whoa! When I was given that news, I panicked and questioned if it was something I really wanted. I felt like I had gone through the mourning process and had come to terms with my reality. After about a year of praying and processing the idea, I had a sense of peace about the situation. My husband and I decided we were ready to explore the idea. We agreed that if I didn’t get pregnant then it wasn’t meant to be, and we would not seek fertility options.
In September of 2012, our first month after making the decision to try, we became pregnant! A month later when we went in for our first ultrasound, the doctor said she saw something interesting. I immediately thought the worst and asked if something was wrong. She smiled and said, “Not necessarily. You’re having twins!”
I wasn’t even sure if I would be able to get pregnant, let alone getting pregnant in the first month of trying, and to top it off, pregnant with twins!!
On May 8, 2013 we welcomed Karlee Jo and Kynslee Jane to our family.
I’m a planner. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I’m so thankful God’s plan was bigger and better. I’m a stronger person because of my experience with cancer, and I’ve learned to trust God...even in the ugly, scary times. Although we may not see it at the time, God is always working things out for our best. It took longer than I wanted to see what God’s plan was, but the wait was so worth it. He turned my ugly and scary into something beautiful!
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and future.” Jeremiah 29:11
“God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, love, and sound mind.” 2 Timothy 1:7
A Little Thought from Heather:I met Karlee and Kynslee on the day of their birth, and I'll never forget their big brother trying to catch a glimpse of his brand new baby sisters as they were being rolled down the hallway. A brief stop to let him gaze upon the miracle of their lives and God's goodness beamed from the light of his little eyes.
Goodness. Goodness is what I think of when I think of this amazing family. So many times we see a diagnosis, but God sees a platform to display a mighty work of His hand-- a work that can only be accomplished by His supernatural intervention.
Kim's story gives hope to all. Believing for a healing? She did much more. She believed for a healing without resolving to a sacrifice. Did she desire to be healed from breast cancer? Absolutely. Did she forfeit her desire for more children? Not at all. She believed and held on, standing in faith for BOTH!
I believe Kim is an example to all of us for how to believe. Don't believe for sufficient, believe for abundance; believe for fulfillment; believe for icing-on-the-cake; and in Kim's case, believe for multiplication!
May you be blessed and encouraged today to continue standing confident in God's goodness in the plans He has for your life! ❤ Heather
*I pray this post spoke to you. Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.*
In our home, we have this approach to bad days: go to bed early. Our thought is, “the earlier we go to bed the sooner the day will be over, getting us to tomorrow, a brand-new day with brand-new beginnings.” Lynn Anderson was onto something when she sang, “I never promised you a rose garden.” Bad days are as much a part of life as the good ones. Thankfully, however, the good ones do overall outweigh the bad. But sometimes the bad are more than bad. They’re horrific. And those are the seasons a simple turning-in-for-the-night won’t fix. We wake up to the nightmare we long to escape.
..........Read The Rest of The Story at JaynePatton.com
I read about a man who had a failed business venture and didn’t even have enough money to buy a railroad ticket to leave the scene of his failure. As the story goes he went door to door photographing babies, then sold his camera and bought a one-way ticket to California. Here’s my favorite part:
He left Kansas City in July, wearing a checkered coat and un-matching pants. He had $40 cash, and his imitation-leather suitcase contained only a shirt, two undershorts, two pairs of socks and some drawing material. But when he paid his fare for the trip to California, he bought a first-class ticket.1
A first-class ticket?!?!
It seems foolish for a guy who had just begged and borrowed for his failed business to spend money on a first-class ticket. Seems frivolous. A misprioritization of funds. But this man had a first-class dream only fitting for a first-class ticket.
The man was Walt Disney.
Walt had first–class vision and considering he left Missouri on the heels of defeat, I’d say he had first-class ambition. In reading his biography by Bob Thomas, Walt Disney: An American Original, I learned many things about Walt. Much was unknown to me, but for the parts I knew, I gained a deeper understanding. For instance, Walt didn’t face just this one obstacle of failure. He faced several. But one of the reasons I find him to be so inspiring is his relentless determination to hold on to his dream.
Stories like Walt’s inspire me to pursue God’s callings even though I have no guarantee of success and to keep trucking even if I’m met with some obstacles of failure.
First-class vision. First-class ambition.
Maybe you don’t have a Walt Disney sized dream. I mean, seriously, who would’ve ever imagined? But the potential for what God wants to produce from your dream will never be known unless you keep trying. Maybe it won’t look like what you thought it would. Maybe it will be more than you could have ever thought or imagined.
Ephesians 3:19-21 TLB Now glory be to God, who by His mighty power at work within us is able to do far more than we would ever dare to ask or even dream of—infinitely beyond our highest prayers, desires, thoughts, or hopes.
There are some visions in my heart that just seem downright crazy. One I shared with my pharmacology instructor in nursing school. As I was speaking it out I thought, “I can’t believe I’m saying this out loud. She probably thinks I’m nuts.” But something must have resounded in her, because she, to this day, is one of my biggest encouragers and supporters to keep moving toward that vision.
Here are some questions to consider…
Would you pursue your goal even if others doubted your ability?
If you failed at something you desired would you try again?
Do you look for new possibilities when you get rerouted from the original goal?
These were my thoughts last year when approaching my test to get my national certification in neonatal nursing. The reality of failure was thick. I mean I’d walk out with a paper that either said, PASS or FAIL.
I had studied and studied still yet, felt like I hadn’t studied enough. I married my book for a good two weeks. I went through all online practice questions, looking at not only the right answer, but also all three of the wrong answers per question, making notes as to the rationale for each one.
It was pouring down rain the day I went to take the test and on my way there I got a call that my daughter’s school was on lockdown for a reported gun on campus! Seriously! Talk about being rattled when you’re already rattled! At the reassurance of my husband, I proceeded on to the testing center thankful for him to be making decisions regarding the safety of our child.
The few items I took into the testing center were zipped in a bag and locked away. I lifted my pants for an evaluation that I wasn’t stowing any cheat sheets in my socks. Cameras were recording every moment, and I was suppose to relax, focus and think. Did I mention I have testing anxiety? I kept thinking, “Why do I do this to myself?!” Then it came time for the photo. I knew this photo would either have a pass or fail beside it when I left, but I chose to smile anyway.
This was my goal. This was my personal desire. I knew I needed to smile because no matter the outcome I was going to give my best, and I was going to keep trying. No one or nothing could influence my motivation more than my own desire.
I guess God has hard wired that approach in me by this point. I mean, considering this blog, I consistently overcome questions of my own doubt and it’s value to others when I write. Then there’s the book, the memoir I’m writing. How many times I’ve asked myself, “What if no one reads it?” To add to it are the speaking commitments. It’s awesome being asked to speak at an event, but what’s the point if no one shows up to hear it, or if it’s not relevant to them in their life?
I suppose what makes a dream a dream, is the possibility of failure or of it never becoming a reality. Without the latter, it’s not really a dream at all.
But who wants to fail? Who wants to invest their heart, thoughts and efforts into something that may never come to fruition?
No one, I would think. But wouldn’t we miss something of great value if we didn’t go for it? And even if it doesn’t pan out, we know that we’re becoming something in the process, more of who God wants us to be.
Well, we’ll never know if we quit, or never even try.
It’s why we do what we do unto the Lord and not unto people (Colossians 3:23), because God will get us where He wants us to be. He will make us into more of who He wants us to be through the process, but we have to stay the course, focused on Him.
Walt Disney buying that first-class ticket shows me that failure is more of a mindset than a reality. As Walt said, “Around here however, we don’t look backwards for very long. We keep moving forward, opening new doors, and doing new things, because we’re curious and curiosity keeps leading us down new paths.”
Nothing holds a candle to God’s creative work in our lives. But we play a part. We have to dare to dream.
I pray this post spoke to you. Did you know I’m writing a book?! Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog, sharing with your friends and family, or making a purchase below? We can’t grow with out you.
**If you are considering testing for your RNC, I invite you to purchase my study notes. Your purchase will help us generate funds needed for website redevelopment and editing our book for publishing! The notes are compromised from the book Core Curriculum for Neonatal Intensive Care Nursing Fourth Edition by M. Terese Verklan and Marlene Walden. My study notes include all lab values as listed in the book, and the online practice questions, also from the workbook Certification and Core Review for Neonatal Intensive Care Nursing Fourth Edition by Robin L. Watson. Also included is the information I needed to apply for the test. After your purchase is complete, the study notes will be emailed to your address provided at checkout.**
Click Here to Purchase RNC Study Guide
1Walt Disney: An American Original (p.66)
Seasons change in life. Things change and shift, reflecting different pictures.
For a season of my life The Star Spangled Banner was one of my most favorite songs to sing. Today, I don’t do too much singing publicly, but I still sing. God bless my children and my hubby for all my singing they listen to around the house and in the car!
I remember singing this song for the first time in 8th grade choir. And then, my sophomore year of high school I was asked to sing this song at a basketball game.
Like I always did, I showed up with my accompaniment track, on a cassette tape in those days, and I sang the National Anthem at my first high school basketball game. Afterward, a coach encouraged me to do it next time without the music!
What?!
I could never sing without the music! That felt so naked!
The next few times I still brought my accompaniment, but then one random time I put on my big girl panties, pun totally intended, and I belted it out acapella.
I sang this song so often that one particular time I got finished, walked over to the student section where I planned to eat the hot dog waiting for me that I purchased right before I sang, and my friends said, “What happened? “ I had no idea what they were getting at. I mean, I would remember for sure if I cracked or flubbed. I’ve done that more times than I can count. But this instance I felt it went rather smoothly. Then one of them said, “You skipped straight to the bombs!” How funny! I didn’t even realize until that point that I had missed an entire stanza!
Time has changed very much. In the video you’ll notice my sweet Ruby Sue on the floor behind me and the kids’ cats moseying around, but as different as the picture looks, this is still one of my most favorites.
There is something about “the fight.” Something about a “perilous fight” and “our flag” still there that stirs my heart and my spirit.
We all face fights. We face unimaginable moments of hardship and difficulty, but we come from a people who are fighters.
I am so proud to be an American. Not just today on Independence Day. I am grateful I was born in this United States of America and have inherited the history of this country and my family.
We are a young country. We have many flaws in our past and our present. Something I can relate to and identify with personally.
But we are fighters. We are the land of the free and the home of the brave.
Brave.
Brave is a word that has more definition, meaning and value to me than I can expand on in this post which I intended to be short and sweet.
But brave is something I connect with.
Brave is what the nurses called me in the burn unit during bandage changes.
Brave is what I tell myself when I’m standing on the brink of what I feel like I most certainly will fail at in my own ability.
Brave is what I tap into when I write posts, write this book in the making, show up to take care of NICU babies, step out on a limb to pray with someone I don’t know, parent my children each day, because honestly people, sometimes they scare me, and to record this song to share with you. Gracious that took lots of brave for me.
But just as we come from fighters. We come from so much more. Brave fighters.
I Timothy 6:12 NLT Fight the good fight for the true faith. Hold tightly to the eternal life to which God has called you, which you have declared so well before many witnesses.
Psalm 27:14 NLT Wait patiently for the Lord. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.
Happy 4th of July, Brave Fighter!
I pray this post spoke to you. Did you know I’m writing a book?! Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5HYIifp9cjk&feature=em-upload_owner[/embed]
The month of June, what does it mean to you? Is it the remembrance of the D-Day Invasion in Normandy on June 6, Flag Day on June 14 or even the day we honor our fathers on the third Sunday in June? For me, June 20-22 is etched in my memory forever. June 20, 1997 was the last time I heard my daughter Lindsay tell me “I love you” and the last time I got a hug from her. It was the last time I saw her blue-green eyes and her beautiful smile. Little did I know, 3 hours after telling her bye, she would be involved in a horrific car accident that would take her life.
Lindsay was my first daughter, the second of my three children. She was born May 22, 1981. She was a little sister to Ryan and a big sister to Rachel. She was a beautiful young lady. She was spunky and full of life. She lived life to its fullest. She wasn’t perfect and sometimes found trouble if it didn’t find her first.
Just 4 years earlier, my kid’s father tragically died in a work related accident while working out of state. Lindsay struggled with the death of her dad. She stated on many occasions that she just wanted to be with her dad. Three weeks before her death, she told my friend that she wasn’t going to live to see the age of 25. The night before the accident, I remember her sitting on the couch crying. I asked her what was wrong and she just shook her head and said she didn’t know. Before she went to bed that night, she told my nephew and her brother that she knew she wasn’t going to live much longer. She knew before we did that her life on this earth was going to end.
Lindsay and my nephew were headed to Dallas to spend the weekend with my cousin. Their trip ended just south of Caddo, Oklahoma. For unknown reasons, the car ended up crossing the center median and they were hit by a semi going 70 mph. The impact of the semi hitting the car caused the car to split in half. The seat’s belt broke and Lindsay was found just 3 feet behind the car. My nephew was thrown 65 feet. He had asphalt burns to his face, hand and leg. He had a broken hand and a large horseshoe cut on the back of his head. Thankfully, he lived, but lives with survivor’s guilt.
There were two off-duty EMT’s who drove upon the accident and immediately started CPR on Lindsay. Her heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital in Durant, Oklahoma. We did not find out about the accident until 3:30 pm. The doctor informed my husband that Lindsay had no brain activity and they wanted to transfer to a hospital in Sherman, Texas because they had a trauma unit. Before they transferred her to Sherman, they performed surgery to repair a tear in her liver. That trip to Sherman was the longest trip of my life. I knew things weren’t good, but I prayed and prayed. I asked God to watch over Lindsay and to help me make decisions that I knew I was going to have to make.
It was 9:00 pm when we finally arrived. The moment I walked in the room to see Lindsay, I saw that she was at peace. She was on life support and they had shaved part of her hair in order to insert a probe to measure the pressure on her brain. As the ICU nurse began to explain all the numbers on the monitor, it showed the pressure on her brain was 110 and was rising. I asked what was normal and with a hesitation in her voice and tears in her eyes, she said 8-10. Once again, I knew things were not good. I continued to pray and as the night wore on, the pressure continued to rise to 150. To look at Lindsay, you would think she was just sleeping. Visibly, you could see a bruise on her cheek, a puncture wound on her hand and one of her toes had been severed, but it had been repaired. We talked to her and prayed for her through the night.
The next day they ran a series of test to see if she could breathe on her own. She could not. They checked to see if there was any blood flow to her brain. There was not.
We knew then that the Lindsay we knew and loved so much was already with our Lord and Savior. At that time, we talked with her doctor and made the decision to donate her organs. Southwest Transplant Alliance in Dallas was contacted. Two nurses made the trip to Sherman to discuss with us the process of organ donation. We chose to donate her heart, lungs, kidneys, pancreas and liver.
I had never felt so much peace, feeling of the arms of Jesus wrapped around me, as I did when I found out that there was nothing more they could do. I remember talking to our pastor on the phone and telling him I had peace, because I knew where she was.
On Sunday morning, June 22, everyone went in to tell Lindsay how much she was loved and we would see her when we get to Heaven. I was left in the room by myself with Lindsay. I talked to her, prayed for her and then began to sing to her a Point of Grace song, “God Loves People More Than Anything”, except I sang “God Loves Lindsay More Than Anything”. I sang it over and over again just so she would know how much God really loved her and He was taking her away from all the heartache she was enduring in her earthly life. My husband told me I wasn’t really saying goodbye, but “I’ll see you later”, because we will see her again in Heaven.
When I walked out of her room, the nurses were crying with me. I went back to the waiting room. One of the nurses came out to tell us that they pronounced her brain death at 9:45am and that is when they began harvesting her organs. We started our journey back to Coweta without our Lindsay.
We knew God had a plan from the very beginning. We believe God placed the off duty EMT’s in the exact spot on Highway 69 at the time Lindsay needed them to keep her alive. We know a 30 year-old woman received both of Lindsay’s lungs. Her transplant was needed because of a heart defect. Lindsay’s liver went to a 49 year-old man who had been disabled for eight years because of an unknown reason as to why he was in liver failure. Lindsay’s pancreas and one kidney went to a 46 year-old woman with insulin dependent diabetes mellitus. Lindsay’s other kidney went to a 32 year-old woman who had kidney failure due to hardening of the tiny vessels in her kidneys.
The most precious gift given was Lindsay’s heart. Her heart went to Wayne Battles. At the time of the heart transplant, Wayne was 55 and he had a birthday a month after his transplant. Wayne will be 76 in July!
Wayne’s story began 4 years prior to his transplant. That is when the doctors told him that he would need a new heart. He and his wife starting praying for their donor and their family if God’s plan included a new heart. 4 years prior for our family was when we were given the heartbreaking news that the father of my children had died. Wayne went into the hospital April 29, 1997. Through all of our visits, we found out that Wayne had gotten so bad they took him off the transplant list. But, on May 21, his numbers started improving and he was put back on the transplant list on May 22, Lindsay’s birthday.
In the beginning, all of the correspondence was anonymous and went through Southwest Transplant Alliance. It took me quite a bit of time to write back to them after receiving the very first letter, but finally completed a letter and a small photo album of Lindsay to send to them. When we received another letter after they celebrated his 1 year anniversary with his new heart, I could tell they never received my letter. After seeing a partial phone number and a church name, we could tell they lived in the Dallas/Ft. Worth metroplex. My sister started her own investigation and finally found Sharon. After a brief conversation with her, she called me and told me she found Lindsay’s heart recipient and to be expecting a call. Many tears were shed when we talked. We discovered that my letter and photo album were sent to the transplant hospital. Sharon made a trip to the hospital to retrieve them and then she gave Wayne the letter and album that evening.
They made a trip to Broken Arrow, Oklahoma on September 19, 1998 so we could meet for the first time. I remember laying my hand upon his chest to feel Lindsay’s heartbeat. On August 13, 2014 was a monumental day for us. They surprised us by opening up a box which held a stethoscope. I was able to hear Lindsay’s heartbeat for the first time.
Many tears were shed that evening. I have been able to listen each time we have met since then. We continue to see each other at least once a year. We have received letters and cards on every holiday from Wayne and Sharon for 20 years. The bond we have developed is unbreakable. Although, we have never heard from any of other the other recipients, I pray each one is doing well after their transplants.
In all of this,I am so thankful that God has given me the strength and courage to live beyond the accident. I know that because Lindsay believed in God and was saved by His grace, she has her place in Heaven. I am looking forward to the day when I am reunited with her in Heaven. I am thankful for the support I have received over the last 20 years from my husband, my son and daughter and their families, my parents, siblings, nieces, nephews and the rest of my extended family.
"Don’t take your organs to Heaven…Heaven knows we need them here.”
-Sherri Valder
I can do all this through Him who gives me strength. Philippians 4:13 NIV
A Little Thought from Heather:
Back in November we had the honor of having Courtney Allen share the beautiful story of her brave little boy’s journey to a heart transplant, in Guest Post: A Thankful Heart. When I asked Courtney to write our guest post about Caysen, I had great hope of Sherri sharing Lindsay’s story, the story of a donor family.
This story is close to my own heart. For one, as long as I can remember I’ve personally understood the importance of organ donation. I would not be alive today if it weren’t for tissue donation. Families made the decision to donate their loved one’s tissue, the largest organ of our body and because of cadaver skin, and the donation of countless blood donors, I had the chance to live.
But Lindsay’s story is more than a story to me. I knew Lindsay.
School had not been pleasant for me after our accident. I experienced challenges in finding acceptance and security in returning to school. All of my elementary school years were spent bobbling back-and-forth between surgeries, doctor’s appointments and physical therapy. I just never settled back with my peers.
I was so scared, but I finally took a leap and changed schools in the 8th grade.
There was this girl in my English class. She had naturally curly blond hair, like me. She was outgoing. She lit up a room. Everyone was drawn to her personality. Her smile was more than a facial expression. It beamed from her heart. And this girl WELCOMED ME from the get-go. And to top it off, we shared the same middle name. Lindsay Renee and Heather Renee.
The song her mama sat at her bed and sang to her, “God Loves People More than Anything,” her family blessed me with the honor of singing at her memorial service. Even today, twenty years after her passing, I carry such gratitude for being able to do that little something for her, because what she did for me played a part of shifting my intimidated, insecure teenage world looking for acceptance to one filled with enthusiasm and joy each time I walked into a class we shared.
Lindsay had a gift of making other people feel valued. And I find it to be completely reflective of her life that she gave such insurmountable value even in her death.
When you think of organ donation, when you consider the commitment to give, think of precious Caysen who has a life today because of a donor, and think of Lindsay who continues to touch others, from those of us who knew and loved her, to those who never even met her. Twenty years later, her life is touching lives.
*I pray this post spoke to you. Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.*
"When you believe in a thing, believe in it all the way, implicitly and unquestionable.” –Walt Disney
When I was a little girl I used to get behind my Grandma’s lace dining room curtains, drape them across my face, grasp some flowers between my two hands and cue off the wedding march all on my own. The drapes would slowly inch up my body, rising with each step over my face and falling off the top of my head. I was enacting a dream I had. A dream to one day wear a beautiful gown, hold some beautiful flowers and have a beautiful veil cover my face. Of course, my five year-old-self hadn’t given much consideration to a major player in this dream. The groom! This dream was all about a wedding. Not a marriage.
Just a couple short years later I was lying in the burn unit. On occasion, I expressed my assumptions. I can revisit those seven year-old-thoughts like they were rolling through my mind yesterday. Who will ever love me? No one will ever want to marry me. I will never have a husband. I will never have children.
Dreams of children are often full of fantasy. I suppose mine were no different. I hadn’t lived long enough to dream of high educational goals. I hadn’t lived long enough to envision myself in a respectable career. I simply dreamed of what I saw in my Disney movies. And while I saw what my body looked like, it was my Disney movies that influenced me to believe; believe that maybe, just maybe someone would love me, with all my scars still find beauty in me and love me.
A dream is a wish your heart makes When you're fast asleep In dreams you lose your heartaches Whatever you wish for, you keep Have faith in your dreams and someday Your rainbow will come smiling through No matter how your heart is grieving If you keep on believing The dream that you wish will come true ~ Cinderella
Brandon Meadows was my fulfillment of that dream.
Hopefully you didn’t vomit a little in your mouth at that last sentence, because while this post may be a little mushy-gushy, it does have some authentic marriage reflections I pray are encouraging to you.
I would have never ever thought in a million years that I’d meet the one “for whom my soul loves” at a Driller’s baseball game in Tulsa, Oklahoma when I was only fifteen years old. Never. In a million years!
And while we didn’t “hit it off,” the introduction paved the way for interest, leading to friendship and as the fairytales would have it, growing into love. But anyone who has been married for a hot minute can agree that not every married-moment feels like a fairytale. Ours certainly hasn’t.
06.19.1999. Our wedding date. Our marriage date. The beginning of our life together. The fruition of one dream and the vision of many more.
We were 18.
18 years old.
Barely adults. Barely old enough to vote. Underage to rent a car. Underage to have a toast of champagne.
We had nothing…..EXCEPT a dream of a life together.
Dreams are created twice. The first creation is spiritual. The second creation is physical. But they always start with what if? What if you knew you couldn’t fail- what would you do? What if time or money weren’t an object- what God-sized goal would you go after? - Mark Batterson, If
Oh, we knew we could fail. Countless people pointed to the possibility.
Oh, we knew money was an object. We had a futon for our furniture and converted a barn for our house.
But here we are 18 years later. Here we are at this stage, where we’ve lived in our marriage covenant just as long as we lived before it; celebrating half our lives married in the happiest place on earth. (Because our thirty-six year-old selves still believe in dreams, fairytales and happily ever afters.)
And here are just a few things we’ve gathered-
And man! Has it ever been a process! There have been many a moments we didn’t mesh like one. But those moments have become fewer and farther in between. God created us individually with our own giftings, personalities and strengths, but He called us to be one. Years ago our small group leaders, Larry & Joan, gave us some valuable insight: When you get married you’re not sprinkled with magic oneness dust. Now that we could relate to. Wouldn’t it be nice if Tinker Bell could flitter around every marriage ceremony with a little bit of oneness dust?! But getting married in Disney won’t even guarantee that. It’s an every day, sometimes moment-by-moment decision (especially in the heated ones) to desire unity above anything else. Amazingly, even people with as different personalities as Brandon and me, eventually start thinking like one another, even finishing each other’s sentences! (That one really creeps the kids out by the way!)
Has anyone seen Disney’s Inside Out? Joy multiplies the manufacturing of Riley’s imaginary boyfriend. You know, the boyfriend we all imagined as teenagers? He continuously says, “I would die for Riley.” But living for someone can be way more sacrificial. Like saying, “I’m sorry.” I don’t know about you but that one is SUPER HARD after some intense disagreements. And like protecting and defending your spouse even at the expense of other relationships. Or like declining a job transfer that would take you away from your spouse, even if it may mean losing your job. Can’t say when we made that commitment we pictured the potential of having to consider the reality of possibly taking a pay cut or a position below qualifications. Thankfully, when we said, “no” for our marriage, God opened a door for an even better career change. But we would’ve never known had we not had the mindset of sacrificial love.
With sacrifice comes vulnerability. Standing before God and witnesses, vowing our life to our spouse, forsaking our self and all others as long as we both shall live puts us in a pretty vulnerable place. Forever. Brandon and I are seeing 18 years married, simply because he has chosen me and I have chosen him each day since June 19, 1999. We can love each other but keeping this union going means we each have to choose. And knowing that at any point one person may choose otherwise can be freakishly vulnerable. We’re geared to self protect, but that doesn’t jive with sacrificial love. So we go all in, abandoning ourselves and trusting God. Trusting God to help us forgive, trusting God to help us face the sin and shortcomings (because as hard as it is to face our own sin and shortcomings, it’s even more challenging to have to deal with our spouse’s). And even if a choice is made to abandon the covenant, still trusting God.
So here we are, thanking God for the yesterdays and trusting Him for our tomorrows. Not always picturesque. Not always perfect. But grateful for sharing it together.
Colossians 1:17 He existed before anything else, and He holds all creation together.
I pray this post spoke to you.
Did you know I’m writing a book about persevering through life’s painful places? Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family?
We can’t grow with out you.
*thank you to Kevin with Disney Fine Art Photography & Video for capturing some Grand Floridian Anniversary moments for us!
Mission trips are life changing. I’ve heard countless stories as people returned, observing how the experience impacted not only their heart but also the way they think and interpret life.
Then I had the opportunity to experience it for myself last summer, joining a team from our church traveling to El Salvador with my husband, our daughter and oldest son. I signed up for the medical missions team, my husband and son, on the construction team, and our daughter on the evangelism team.
The time passing since our trip held an unanticipated job change, and we knew my husband would not be able to be a part of the team this year. Therefore, we counted our family out when it came time to sign-up for the 2017 team.
I didn’t give it a thought at all to the possibility of us not participating as a family.
Until….
Until, I had a power session with a dear friend of mine. We work together in the NICU, on opposite shifts, and we give it our best to meet consistently to pray for one another’s needs and agree together for unity in our unit.
During our get-together, my friend challenged me with the possibility of letting our teenage daughter go without us. I told her I just couldn’t do that. She proceeded, “Heather, I remember the first time I went on a mission’s trip without my parents. They were standing there at the gate [because remember, back then family could escort you all the way to boarding the plane].” She continued, “They really embarrassed me! They just stood there hugging me and crying! I totally get it now,” she said, “being a mom myself, I can only imagine how they felt.”
I’m sure you can predict the word that came next.
“But,” she said, “going on a mission’s trip each year kept me grounded in the Lord. It was like the therapeutic dose I needed to keep me strong in my walk with Him through those teenage years.”
I heard what she was saying. And it did resonate in my heart. But I couldn’t imagine letting my teenage daughter go without us. I told my friend I would pray about it.
When I told my husband about my time with my friend that day, he replied, “I don’t even need to pray about it. She’s going.”
However, we really didn’t want to be that dogmatic about it. So we shared the story with our daughter and asked her to pray about it.
Time continued to pass and despite repetitive church announcements regarding the trip, she hadn’t made mention of any intention to go.
Until….
Until the Children of the World choir came to our church. Brandon and I were not in service that day, so the kids had gone to church with my mom. Brooklyn called immediately following service and said, “I’m going to go to El Salvador.”
What?!
You’d think we’d be elated but I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Surprisingly, I heard myself calmly respond, “Okay.”
Even more, she had a determined desire to pay for the trip on her own. I could only think two words— Committed. Invested.
After my daughter shared with us that she would be going, I pretty much immediately met my anxiety with this thought: I could go with her. However, as quickly as the thought came to my mind I instantly knew that would be disobedient to the Lord.
Disobedient?! To go on a mission’s trip? I mean how could doing something good be disobedient to the Lord?!
Well, it’s disobedience when my desire compromises my need to trust God. It takes away my reliance on God and places it on myself. It takes Him out of the driver’s seat and puts me in. That is disobedience.
I knew immediately that this opportunity for Brooklyn was not only an opportunity for her to walk in obedience to the Lord, being away from the security and comfort of her family, but also an opportunity for me to walk in obedience to the Lord to trust Him in letting her go without us.
So what do ya do with that?!
I prayed and prayed and prayed asking for the Lord to help me trust Him, to feel His peace about it all. One day I was at home, all the kids were at school and the house was completely quiet. I wasn’t even praying at the moment, but I walked into Brooklyn’s room to put some clothes away and I felt the Lord speak this to my heart—“Heather, Brooklyn has been farther away from you in your own home than she will be in El Salvador.”
I sat down and cried. It was so true. It’s been the crummiest last couple years of parenting! And God wants Brooklyn. He wants her completely and consistently.
That reality became even more evident the closer we got to the trip.
Brandon and I repeatedly explain to our children that sin is ugly and difficult, and if there is sin in our home it will eventually show itself, and when it does, it has to be dealt with.
God is faithful to reveal that which is hidden. But oh, how difficult it is. How ugly it can be.
Brooklyn has been in a cycle Paul knew well and wrote about in Romans 7:14-20. Despite the struggle, she was going on this mission’s trip. Without us.
We’ve hardly spoken the last three weeks. The pain of this battle is excruciating to my mama heart and I quite frequently desire to uncover a secret passage of escape. Wouldn’t that be nice?!
When we took her to the church yesterday morning at 3:45 a.m. I imagined myself giving her the boot with a good-riddance disposition. [May seem harsh but this blog is about real-living, and in this case, real-challenges in parenting teens].
But that’s not what happened.
As everyone began to load-up, she hugged her Dad, and then hugged me. She began to weep. I interpreted many things from her tears. And suddenly I realized that this was why I could not go. Where she needs to be in her walk with the Lord, she has to go without us. My friend Jayne said it best when she wrote, “God does not have grandchildren. He only has children.” Our children have to choose Him, choose to walk with Him, choose to honor Him on their own, without us.
Holding my daughter tight, the emotion of the moment and the realization hit me. Matthew 16:25 was rolling through my heart and in my head. It says, “If you try to hang on to your life, you will lose it. But if you give up your life for My sake, you will save it.”
What I heard was, “If you try to hang on to your daughter, you will lose her. But if you give her up for My sake, you will save her.”
I’m resting this week. Resting in letting go. Resting in my confident hope. Resting in trust. Resting in faith of what is now, is not what will be. Resting in the plans and purposes already set in motion. Resting in a testimony in the making. Resting in the beautiful life of an independent relationship with Jesus. Resting in knowing He alone is able, without us, God is able.
Will you please intercede for our daughter Brooklyn and the team she is with this week? May the Lord work in and through them as they serve the people of El Salvador. May each heart, from those serving to those being served, be transformed by the hand of God.
I pray this post spoke to you.
Did you know I’m writing a book about persevering through life's painful places? Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family?
We can’t grow with out you.
“Mom, can I play the Wii?” Oh if I had just a dime for every time I know I will hear that this summer. School got out for our kiddos last week. I have to say, I was on the countdown just as much as they were. At one point I tapped the tips of my fingers together like Monsieur D’Arque does, who is the head of the insane asylum in Disney’s animated version of Beauty and the Beast. I tapped the tips of my fingers together and said, “In just a few more days I will have them back to myself to begin the cultural detoxing process!” I considered adding in a maniacle laugh for effect, as if my children are a crazy science experiment. Sounds creepy, but that makes it all the more amusing!
However, in all seriousness, I do feel like I get them back from everything that pulls against the unit of our family throughout the year. To clarify, I’m not saying they’re facing only negative things through the year. Some of what we get them back from is the crazy schedule. Jaron asked me what I was looking forward to most for summer and I said, “Not having to keep a schedule and getting to have time, time with you all and time with friends.” Again, it’s not that we don’t do anything, but we just don’t have to have everyone up at a certain time and out the door. We have some evening activities here and there, but it’s not every single night of the week. We have time to be together. We have time to chill. We have time to reconnect and simply enjoy our family.
And that brings us back to the question I know I’ll hear over and over and over again— “Mom, can I play the Wii?”
Part of this relaxed schedule is the threat of what I call, THE MUSHY BRAIN!
TV. Movies. Video Games. The Computer. Galaxy of Heroes for Jaron and The Dad.
Can I get a witness? Are any of your kids zoned out to electronics?
Last summer I informed the kids of what I thought was an incredibly bright idea.
“Guys! This summer each of us are going to read one chapter a day and you and I are going to journal to each other each day!”
In my head everyone was jumping around with enthusiasm seeing the great potential in this idea.
But that wasn’t the response. There was moaning and blahness. (Yes. I just made up that word, but it’s fitting so go with me on it—it’s a word that summer journals are made of).
Well, those little stinkers really made a stink about it. One child even wrote a whole journal page about how stinky journaling was. Creative writing. It’s a beautiful thing. (insert sarcasm)
But guess what?!
Despite the negativity at times, they liked it! No, they’re not begging to start again, and they weren’t super expressive, but here and there they’ve let the cat out of the bag different things they liked about journaling.
So this is how it looked for us. I pick a topic and write to them in their journal and then they write back to me. Like pen pals so to speak.
I wish we could do this throughout the school year, but it was very timely for last summer when Brandon was unexpectedly laid off. I wrote to each of the kids about what had happened. Jaron wrote back ministering to our hearts. He shared how he was kind of worried but then he remembered Psalm 23. He looked it up and wrote each verse out by hand for us to read:
The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me; Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; You anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.
You can imagine what Brandon and I were doing reading that journal entry! Can we say, “tears?!” And lots of them. We were hoping to give reassurance to our children and here one of our children was giving it to us.
Then, as balanced as life should be, we got a good chuckle when we opened Caden’s. He wanted to know the specifics of how everything would pan out, asking if we were going to sell our house and buy a tiny house. Which by the way, wasn’t such a bad idea to him.
I asked for at least one full page, but sometimes because of the subject matter I got more. Here were a few of things I shared with the kids about our summer writing—
So how did I get them to oblige? It was simple—all the answers to what they wanted to do were a “no” until they did their journal and read their chapter. I know. Mean Mom, right? But I’ve got these treasures of their lives, penned from their own hand, on topics that are meaningful and valuable. Those are my summer treasures and it helps them fight the manifestation of the summer mushy brain!
I pray this post spoke to you. Did you know I’m writing a book?! Crazy, right?! Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.
**If you would like some ideas and focus points to write to your kids this summer, I invite you to download Journal Writing Topics - Fighting the Mushy Brain for free. We just got regular ol' journals at Walmart and wrote to each other like pen pals. The document shares some of our topics. Don't feel pressured to write every single day, but just a consistent flow of communication with them through the project. Also, visit my friend, Shawna Fisher at Water Walker Events Design Planning for a fun free-to-download journal that includes a Summer Bucket List and Nature Scavenger Hunt.**
*a special post from special guest Heather Falana* My husband loves me. It doesn’t matter what kind of a day I am having or if he disagrees with some of my decisions-he just loves me. He has been out of the country for 10 days and he returns tomorrow. To say I am excited is an understatement. While he has been away the Lord has been working some things out of me.
There is always stuff in us that can be worked on, worked in, or worked out. See, the thing is, people say “Jesus loves you” and ask “Did you know how much God just loves you?”
…. “just loves you”.
Yes. I do know that He does love me.
But do I?
Grace means undeserved favor. It means that something is given to you that you do not deserve and it could never be earned, but I believe that over time I have come to slightly believe that I must earn some gifts from God. Today, I realized that the devil has been trying to keep things out of my grasp with this one lie; “Heather, you haven’t done enough.”
I find it very easy to love the Lord. To sing Him praises and talk about His goodness. It is also very easy for me to do that for people too; to brag on them and bring them gifts, but I have a hard time receiving it back. The Lord brought to my attention that I don’t always let Him love me. I’m always thinking about what I didn’t do or what I can do better. Not what He has done and wants to do in me and for me---there are things only my Heavenly Father can do.
I am a mother of three beautiful children. They are not perfect. They fight with each other on occasion. They sometimes lie. They don’t always follow the rules. They get mad at me. You want to know what? Sometimes they irritate me but I LOVE them so deeply that I correct and move forward knowing sure within myself that they love me too and they will improve. So, sitting in my living room today God gave me a dose of much needed unlimited, throw-all-caution-to-the-wind, cry-your-eyes-out LOVE.
Over the past month, while my prayer closet, I was sensing this wall. A wall. Not a wall to keep things in, a wall that was keeping something out. I couldn’t figure it out. I asked the Lord to show me what I was feeling on the inside. One thing I love about having a relationship with God is that He never fails to blow my mind.
I stand on scripture for healing in my body and protection over my family. I receive wisdom from God daily because His Word says in James that all I must do is ask for it and He gives it freely. Freely. God loves freely and He gives grace, mercy, and wisdom freely; however, it is never forced and must be received the same way. Today He spoke to my heart and said “Heather, you cannot earn the things I love to give you. I watch over your children because I love you. I desire to heal your body because I love you. And I gave you Jesus because I love you. Not because you remembered the scripture from last Sunday. Not because you prayed and read my Word four times or two times this week or you forgot. I just love you.”
I cannot explain in a human tongue what this did to me. I know God loves me. I know that He sent Jesus because He loved us (John 3:16). It was different today. It went deeper than “Jesus loves you”. I felt like He took my face in His hands and looked me in the eyes and said “I just love you”.
My husband and I moved last year to the west coast to start a church. People are people everywhere you go. I have come to realize that. Here in my new home I am finding it challenging to explain why we are here. Yes, we came to start a church to tell people about Jesus Christ and what He did but more importantly we came to share the love of Christ with people. I have been asking myself “How? How do I explain all of this extreme fondness I have for my savior?” and “How do I show them what it is like to know My savior?” and “How will they see that this is vital?”
Outside of being an example of Christ and being a sweet fragrance to those around you (II Corinthians 2:14-15), I needed more. How do I put this thing in my heart into words? Wisdom is coming my friends. When you ask Jesus to come into your heart to be your Lord and Savior its more than a prayer. It’s a life changer. He said in II Corinthians 5:17 “Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away, all things have become new.”
It’s one thing to knowabout a person, it’s another to hear about who that person is, and it is entirely different to live with that person. Christ desires to live with us because He just loves us. He desires to change our hearts because He knows about every little thing in your life that you need. He desires to lead us. He desires to heal us, protect us, and care for us.
We recently got a dog. He is almost a year. We found him at the Humane Society. We walked into this very loud, a bit stinky and crowded animal shelter. My family and I walked into the small dog room. There was this half Corgi half Chihuahua copper dog in the last kennel on the left. My oldest son just melted. The shelter had a name on his kennel and it was Nalu. When we brought him home the kids wanted to change that name so we threw out many ideas until we settled on Cooper.
Cooper has had to learn some new behaviors. He has had to learn that we are safe and how to trust us. When Cooper came out of his old life he received a new one. A better one. He came from a high-kill shelter in Hawaii and this was his last chance at living. He was surviving but he was not living. When God sent Jesus to us it was not to point His nose down at the human race and aim lightning bolts in our direction and yell “Look at all those people screwing everything up! They need a crutch! I’m sending them Jesus." No. He sent Jesus because the enemy has it out for all mankind (I Peter 5:8) and Jesus came to make a way of escape. Just like we were sent to Cooper to make him a way of escape. John 10:10 Jesus says “the thief does not come except to steal, and to kill, and to destroy. I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.” In other words, Jesus came to bring something worth dying for and not so He could keep it to Himself. He came to give it away to you and me!
It didn’t stop there. We gave the dog a new name and a new life. He also received gifts and a bath! Now everything that belongs to the Falana’s also belongs to Cooper. He is in the family now! He enjoys our couch, our food, our neighborhood streets, and our love. It is the same with the Lord. You can know about Him or you can live in Him.
Picture yourself standing outside of a house and wondering what it holds. Nothing in that house belongs to you, in fact you cannot even see what it has to offer. Now, picture yourself walking through that house. You see all the rooms, the stairs, the fireplace. It is very inviting. You walk right through it and you move on.
Now, imagine you live in that house. Everything in that house belongs to you. It not only brings you the things you need, like a stove, washing machine, and toilets. It shelters you. It keeps you warm. It protects you. It also gives you room. Room to share. That is Christ. He desires for you to be “in Him”. Not to know about Him. Not to visit with Him once and move on. He desires to free you from a negative sentence in life. To change you. Rename you. Feed you. Shelter you. Most importunately, “to just love you.” I John 4:9-10 “In this the love of God was manifested toward us, that God has sent His only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through Him. In this love, not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins”.
Don’t just survive this one life you have been given. Live it in Him and let Him just love you.
A Little Thought From Heather...Meadows🤗
I could write a blog post alone about Heather Falana. She is the portrait of Proverbs 27:17 in my life-- "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." We met several years ago in an anatomy class and journeyed through OU College of Nursing together, being referred to by many as Heather Squared.
She and her family are brave for Jesus, bold for Jesus and desire His plans for their life, moving across country, not knowing a soul, to minister His life, His love, His hope and His healing to lives.
Would you pray about and consider blessing their ministry with a love offering? Your tax deductible gift can be sent to: Church Alive ℅ Sam Falana 1339 NW Covey Ct. Silverdale, WA 98383
Also, if you enjoy a good laugh, Heather periodically posts some super funny videos! Click here to look her up on Facebook. Her humor will lift you up, truly making you laugh out loud. She's such a gift to me! ❤ Heather
I pray this post spoke to you. Did you know I’m writing a book?! Crazy, right?! Would you join me in supporting these endeavors by subscribing to our blog and sharing with your friends and family? We can’t grow with out you.
Today I took a walk. I’ve taken this walk countless times in my mind, but today I physically took the steps down the road. It’s an emotional journey. A journey I’ve traveled for 29 years today.
Some years are more difficult than others. This year falls on the more difficult end.
The walk came to me as a thought, but I dismissed it, as my to-do list automatically started rolling like end-credits in a movie.
I had too many things to do for a walk. But the thought came to me again. Instead of a to-do list, I got a little real with myself.
I don’t want to go for that walk today. I don’t want to revisit it today. I just don’t think I can.
Still the thought lingered. So I put on my tennis shoes.
Taking Ruby seemed like a good idea. The weather is so beautiful and I never just take her for a walk. I could take this walk and spend some time with my dog. But no. I began to understand this thought to go for a walk was more than a thought. It was a prompting. And the Lord was calling me to go alone.
I got in my car and drove to the road I needed to walk.
The road I needed to walk today.
It’s not like I never pass this way. I drive this road several times a week on our way to soccer practice and baseball practice and games. But today, my mind was in a different place, not hurried by the schedule, not distracted with conversation. I was completely present, willing to face my memories, my pain, my disappointments, my grief, as I physically put my body where the Lord challenged to take me today.
The comfort of the sun shining, the gentleness of the soft breeze, the sweetness of the bobwhite’s chirp accompanied my steps. My pace was slow; my spirit was strong as my thoughts went back to April 27, 1988.
It’s been a lifetime, but the memories are so vivid.
God called me to write a book. Seems like a bigger deal than simply being called to go for a walk. But there’s a critical component to both. Obedience.
Because the Lord called me to write this story of overcoming life’s darkest moments, I’ve needed to learn details I never knew from the accident. The accident that happened on the very road I walked today.
Those details. They are specifics I’ve learned from interviews over the last few months. The scene was playing out in my mind walking step-by-step this morning.
Jon and I—nine and seven years old, riding on a motorcycle, coming home from visiting friends, behind a truck, on a dirt road, unable to see from the cloud of dust. Swerving to the left and the right, and the left, and the right and the last swerve to the left lane we hit an oncoming truck. Gas leaking. A fire igniting. Tragedy transforming our innocent world.
I walked that road today. That road where my brother died. That road where I laid burning on fire. I walked that road today.
Yes, I physically walked that road today, but I have walked that road every single day of my life since April 27, 1988. I have walked that road every single day of my life for the last 29 years. I’ve looked at this scarred body every single day and remembered that day, every, single, day. No escaping the memories. The memories go with me wherever I go. The tragedy is etched throughout every piece of my existence.
Which is why I’ve reflected on a question we’ve all considered. If we could go back and change just one thing in life, what would it be?
If I could just have one, just one do-over, I would go back to April 27, 1988 and make one decision differently. I would choose against going to a friend’s. I would push and persist, as my personality naturally did and does, for us to instead play at home. One decision. One decision would mean I would have my brother alive to meet my husband and my children. He wouldn’t just be a photograph on my dresser whose name I share in stories. One decision. One decision would mean I would not have experienced a life-threatening injury, enduring indescribable pain, countless surgeries and challenging recoveries.
I stood for some time today at the place known as the scene of the accident. My mind was clear. I felt such peace and stillness. There were no words in my heart or my mind to speak, no prayers, or requests, pleas or questions. I began to think about the brief time I was alone on that road 29 years before. The driver of the truck used a blanket to smother the fire on my burning body then ran to call 911. Jon was gone. I didn’t know it then, but standing there alone today in that place I thought I’ve been alone here before.
Memories can be a source of much hurt and sorrow. Quite naturally, we want to avoid what hurts. We aim to box it up, set it in an area of our heart for pre-planned, scheduled moments to revisit. Some give much effort to that approach. Had it not been for the burn injury’s physical reminder, maybe I would have done the same. But that wasn’t an option. And what I’ve learned because of it is: there is strength in remembering. There is hope in remembering.
Lamentations 3:20-24 NLT I will never forget this awful time, as I grieve over my loss. Yet I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in Him!”
On my walk back to my car, I looked at the fence posts and the telephone posts and thought how so much stays the same as so many things change. I looked at the field where the helicopter landed to take me to the hospital. I looked at the cattle, picturing the scenes of spring calves in the pasture as the events unfolded that day.
As I walked alone back to the car, I instantly had a vision of people walking behind me. The man who took the first step to save my life and put out the fire. His brother who ran out to help. The man who stopped and held my hand while help arrived. The officer who worked the accident, and carried the memories for decades following. I had a vision of them there with me, walking behind me.
Walking back to the car, I could feel my doctors, my nurses, my physical therapists. I could feel my friends and my mentors. I could feel my nursing school class, my educators and the amazing NICU team I get to work with today. I could feel the presence of countless people who have walked into my life because of the journey on that road. And there I began to cry. As I walked I could feel in this group of people the Lord brought to me through this tragedy and in that group I could feel Brandon, Brooklyn, Jaron, Caden & Gavin.
I can’t help but believe that our journey that day, led to this journey today. I can’t help but believe that the tragedy which changed the trajectory of my life, was setting the scene for God to introduce His greatest miracles to my life. My heart, my mind and my spirit are inclined to believe that the source of my greatest pain is also the source of my greatest joy. I don’t see them separated. I see them connected, one leading to the other. It’s what God does. He brings good things out of the worst situations.
It’s why I can’t see the word tragedy without thinking triumph. It may take a lifetime, but know God is working during that time. Sometimes it’s a big job and it takes a lot of work. But He’s a big God. Maybe we can’t see what He’s doing, but He is doing. He is working. He’s working all things to the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28).
It’s why I remember. There is strength in remembering, even if we feel weak. It’s okay to cry. In fact, I believe our tears are important to God, because the Word tells us He bottles our tears (Psalm 56:8). There is hope in remembering. I have a glorious hope, not just hope, but a glorious hope of seeing Jon again. And I pray the days I live bring honor to the life he lived and to his memory I’ll carry forever.
It’s why today I took a walk.
Choose this link to see a video of our story
Friendship. It’s one of those special, almost magical things in life. When you have real, honest, genuine friends, it feels as though you can go through just about anything in life and still come out sane, and maybe even with a smile on your face. And without those people, you feel like a plant that hasn’t been watered in a really, really long time. Perhaps even one that has lived at my house, deprived of water, oxygen, and love, and then thrust outside thinking a little sunshine will revive it, only to char it to death. Currently, I am a plant living somewhere other than my own house. I am thriving. I am flourishing. I feel loved, supported, encouraged on a regular basis. I am surrounded by a community of women that I cherish. I am part of a mom’s group that meets every Monday and leaves me feeling refreshed in my heart and soul and ready to face the week. I live 10 houses away, from a soul mate of a friend. I am part of an accountability group/goal setting group of women who love Jesus so deeply and fiercely that every time I’m with them I desire to grow in my relationship with Jesus. And other dear friends, who also live close by, who regularly make time for play dates with me and my kids, girl time, family dinners, and drop anything to help and support me.
And I am moving. Far, far way.
It’s been a slow and gradual thing, something we’ve been talking about for the last few months. The job sounds amazing. We are going to start a water well drilling company. (Let me clarify, we equals my husband and his current boss.) The company will be a for-profit company, but with the purpose of providing first-time access to clean water for communities by using the company profits to create a price point for not-for-profit organizations, churches and ministries that is affordable. We will be importing world-class water-well-drilling equipment, employing first-world drilling techniques and be undertaking hydro-geological investigations and site-specific surveys. We are really excited to be bringing a different business model to Nicaragua and impacting a different segment of society for Christ through our mission, approach to business, treatment of employees, and quality of goods and services that we provide.
We are both pumped. Like for real. And we’re moving back to a country we used to live in, Nicaragua. So the whole scary-moving abroad-thing isn’t as scary since we know and love this country very much.
However, despite that, I’m not handling this move very well. I’ve moved before, if fact, I’ve moved a lot. Specifically, eighteen times in the last fourteen years I’ve been married. But this time, I’m a hot mess. Like a, I had to cover my face while at the park with a friend, because I was crying such an ugly cry I didn’t want her to see my face mess. Jessica.get.it.together. But I can’t. I recently heard a woman, Tonya Esler, speak on friendship, and some of the things she shared were so poignant, I have been mulling them over in my mind and heart all week. I have to share just three of her points with you:
~We all need trustworthy friends. (Can I hear a TRUTH to this?!) Look up Ecclesiastes 4:9-12.
~A sweet friendship refreshes the soul. Proverbs 27:9
~A friend is dependable. Romans 12:10
As we sat around our small group to talk through this, our leader asked a great question, “What, in your opinion, takes a friendship to the next level?” And immediately I knew my answer.
Letting your friends help you.
There are so many reasons why I don’t let others help me. Sometimes it's simply because I don’t need help. Or rather, I’d love help, but I don’t know in what particular thing to ask for help. Perhaps it's also because I don't like asking. And, of course, it's messy. It's complicated. It has the potential to be slightly awkward. That is how I feel. And, put all those excuses together and tie them up with a pretty little bow of guilt. A sparkly one. Right on top. Tell me, how can I ask my friend to help me do anything, when I know her schedule is full? Or she also has a gaggle of kids so how can I ask her to watch another for me? Won't that make life hard on her if she helps me?
Maybe.
Or, think back on the last time you helped someone out. How did you feel after? Pretty amazing, am I right? The last time I helped a friend we were at the park and her son hit the back of his head so hard he was gushing blood. As she applied pressure to her son's head, I offered to take her newborn home with me so she could go to the ER. But after she pulled away, and only then, did I realize I wasn't sure I could actually fit another car seat in my car. Gulp. So I calmly placed my three in their seats. Then I just sat there looking at the car seats jammed in there and as I looked closely, I realized I could probably fit three across in the middle. All I had to do was yank each car seat away from the empty middle seat and his infant carrier slid right it! I buckled him up and away we went. I was smiling to myself, knowing my friend could focus on her other child and I could handle FOUR kids. (Okay, true confession, it was only like 1 hour.)
When we allow others into the messy part of our lives, the part where things are hard or hectic or so wild that we need someone to help us, it has the potential to change us. I know this to be true because it changed me.
I honestly didn’t even know I had a problem with this. Clueless. It took a good friend to say to me, ever so lovingly, “Hey there, let me help you. Like for real. I wanna help, and I wouldn't offer my help if I didn't mean it.” Ooooo, she hit on something there. Often times I wonder what if the person offering to help didn’t really meant it, and they are annoyed that I actually took them up on it. Well, this same wise friend also told me, "You are not responsible for how other people feel."
Boom! Game changer right there.
So for the past year I’ve been working on letting others in. More specifically, letting them help me. Because I’ve always been fairly good at pouring my heart out, being genuine and real and honest about life, my struggles, my marriage, my kids, etc. But what good does it do to share with a good friend how undone I am after my husband has been gone for a week, when if she offers to help and I respond, “thanks, that’s so sweet, but I’m ok.” Right?! It’s ridiculous. It’s like not putting a band-aid on my four-year old’s knee when she’s scraped it up. There is a problem, and I have the solution to help her wound heal (hello love me some Neosporin) and make her stop crying (cue Dory band-aid), and forget she even fell (lots of kisses and tickling).
And a funny thing has happened. I have done things I never dreamed of, or thought I could accomplish! Primarily because more hands really do lighten the load, and also my friends have different gifts and talents than I do! I’d love to share a few every-day examples that have made life more full, along with bigger examples of what I’ve seen come to fruition because I’ve allowed dear friends to help me.
~I launched my own Esthetician business in my house. This required the gifting of several different friends to help me decorate, chose which products to carry, create a menu and business cards, and one even hosted an opening night party for me!
~I called a neighbor friend crying so hard all I could squeak out was "You home?" to which she arrived one minute later. My son had busted his head open and dripped blood all around the house trying to find me. She watched my other two (because my husband was out of town) so I could take him to the ER, and even programmed it in my phone so I could find my way through teary eyes!
~Through the encouragement and prayers of many dear friends and family members I finally starting writing the book I've been dreaming of writing for over 7 years. (And because of them, I even went to an incredible conference called She Speaks (where I met the beautiful and delightful Heather!!), which put my butt in gear and got me writing!
~I “let” friends bring me dinner when my husband is out of town. (I’m telling you this was a hard one for me, to actually say, “yes, dinner would be amazing, because otherwise we’re having nuggets or eggs again”).
~I let dear friends watch my kids. Sometimes so I can sleep, other times so I only have to take one sick child to the doctor (a huge, huge help!!) And once, a friend watched my kids so I could go get a pedicure!! (I was on day 9 of my husband being out of town, and she offered to watch my two kids so my 10-month-pregnant self could be pampered!)
I guess what I’m getting at is this: we’ve all heard the saying, “It takes a village.” But I’ve realized I don’t need a whole dang village. I just need a few. A few rare and beautiful gems. And for me, some live close, while sadly, others are far away. But they are women who lift me up and point me to Jesus. They are women who love me unconditionally. They are women who ask me hard questions, and hold me accountable in many areas of my life. They are women who I laugh the hardest with and cry the ugliest with. They are women who have taught me how to let them in deeper still. Women who aren’t afraid of the sleep deprivation, the tantrums, the ugly, and the messy. Women I cannot do this fun, wild, hectic thing called life without.
So when was the last time you let someone help you? Are there people in your life that you have truly let in? Do you have a support system surrounding you? If so, perhaps consider sending them a note telling them just how special they are to you. And if not, I understand. I’ve been there. I’m about to be there again. So join me in praying. Come boldly before the Father, as I am. Let’s ask Him to provide amazing friends we can do life with, or maybe we just need to ask Him to show us how to go deeper with the friends He’s already put in our path.
A Little Thought From Heather:
When I think of the phrase "chance encounters," I think of Jessica. It's why I'm not a big believer in "chance encounters" but rather in "divine appointments."
She and I thought we were just staying at a hotel close to the writers/speakers conference we were attending. And we both thought we were just grabbing a bite to eat at the end of the pre-conference meetings. I actually planned to take my food to the room and work on blog stuff while I ate. But the Lord orchestrated our meeting along with three other women. Hours later we had transitioned from the hotel cafe to the hotel lobby where we had our own prayer meeting for one another's needs, callings and visions.
My heart was prepared to meet Jessica. Our family had recently returned from our very first foreign missions trip and here I met her, learning of her and her husband's history as missionaries and their amazing miraculous journey through infertility. It was one of those things where you just don't want to ask, but then again you do. I'm not sure how it eventually came up, but she proceeded to share with us the births of her two children and that in fact, she was expecting again (accompanying miracle number three as shown in the above photo).
Jessica is working on composing this beautiful story into a book, all while raising her three little people AND transitioning back to living in a foreign country. In the meantime, you can gain nuggets of joy and inspiration as she shares her life through her blog. Please take some time to visit her at jessicastone.org ❤ Heather
Did you enjoy this post? Want to join in the journey with Heather? ****Three ways to help us grow—share, comment, subscribe.**** Connect with Us! Click Here to Subscribe Could our story be of benefit for your group or upcoming event? Click here to contact Heather! Choose this link to see a video of Heather’s story
I don’t know much about paintings. To cut to the chase, I’m not much into “The Arts.” I love the performing arts, only when it includes some type of musical, and if it’s a Disney musical it’s even better. I’m not into classical music, although I faked it for several years during my childhood because Aunt Donna listened to it and I was giving my best to be just like her. I’m lacking on classical novels, because reading typically only holds my interest if I get some life application out of it. But back to paintings. I wouldn’t recognize a Van Gogh or Monet if my life depended on it. I do know, however, that the number of paintings produced is one factor that determines its value.
Which brings me to a thought. And a question. Or maybe a few questions.
This world is populated with people. So how does one feel unique, valuable and important? Do we sometimes feel that we’re just another face in the crowd? How often do we consider that we’re one-of-a-kind?
Gavin got this post rolling a few months ago after a physical therapy screening he had.
Here’s the back-story:
Gavin has an in-toe walking pattern, what some refer to as pigeon-toed. We were first concerned with the issue when he was two. We asked his pediatrician about it at his well-child check-up that year. The determination was that it was due to internal hip rotation. Made sense. We were informed that it’d be more exaggerated when he was tired, but that it wouldn’t keep him from his ability to run or potentially one-day play sports.
I cannot even tell you how much we love our pediatrician. This doctor has not only cared for all four of our children, but even provided care to me in my teen years, and was a part of Brandon’s and my big day, attending our wedding! This isn’t just a physician to us. This is a very special individual. With that in mind, we didn’t take it lightly to get a second opinion. But let me say, if a doctor is offended for you to get a second opinion, maybe it’s not the right doctor for you. I knew ours would completely understand, so we saw a pediatric orthopedic specialist who took x-rays, did a physical assessment and returned the same determination. So we moved on with the thought that this was just the way God made Gavin.
Fast-forward four years. We signed Gavin up to play soccer when he was six. He hated it. We found out it was because of the running.
The following summer Jaron would put Gavin in as his goalie when Jaron practiced soccer at home. What a sweet big brother, potentially kicking soccer balls right at the baby brother. No slack around here. 😂
After a summer of being Jaron’s goalie, Gavin wanted to sign-up for soccer again. No surprise—as a goalie!
It was a better fit for him. However, I was concerned when he told me he wanted to sign-up for basketball. Despite giving him the information on the required running in basketball, he still wanted to play, so we signed him up.
A short time later, I was visiting with our physical therapist at work. Many don’t realize that premature babies need physical therapy and it starts early in their life. So here we were, both working on this baby, just visiting. I mentioned Gavin’s history and my doubts over our basketball-season-sign-up decision for him. She replied with, “He may just need inserts.” Inserts? She told me to call the pediatric physical therapy department and ask to make an appointment for a screening. So I did.
I took Gavin for his screening over Christmas break and it was quickly determined that inserts would be really beneficial for him. Through much more detailed explanation, I was also informed that it’s typically hard to make such a determination until after the age of three or four.
This gets us up to the topic here—feeling unique, important and valuable.
When our physical therapist told Gavin she was going to make him shoe inserts, he told her that wouldn’t be necessary because he could just get some at Wal-Mart.
I explained to Gavin that no one on the entire planet had a foot just like his, and that these inserts would be specially-made just for his foot.
It took some convincing but he started to understand his uniqueness—from the top of his head all the way to his little piggies.
Doesn’t seem so profound to us, does it?
Or does it? I believe we have a lot of people on this earth that don’t quite understand how unique, how valuable and how important they are.
In a song by Natalie Grant she sings, “and you can’t love, if you don’t love yourself.” Well, I believe that pertains to more than love. If we don’t understand how unique, important and valuable we are, it’s difficult to be able to identify how unique, important and valuable others are, which may be the reason why people treat each other so crummy at times. And on the other hand, it may be the reason why people allow others to treat them so crummy.
For us to live a life of fulfillment, we must see our value.
A friend of mine, Tracy Robbins, illustrates this so powerfully in one of her messages. She explained that the MSRP is the value the manufacturer has placed on an item, suggesting how much should be paid for the item. Well, that’s great if you’re studying economics I suppose, but she brought it home in a way I won’t forget. After that bit of information, she says, “And this is how much God says you are worth,” as an image comes on the screen of Jesus Christ, beaten and bloody, with a crown of thorns on his head, hanging on a cross.
God says we are valuable, so valuable that He sent His one and only Son.
It gives much meaning to Ephesians 2:10 that says in the NKJV, “For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.”
I guess that’s why I don’t get too carried away with designer stuff, or even gaining knowledge over the Van Goghs and Monets. The Word tells me I am God’s workmanship. In the NLT, it says I’m His “masterpiece.” Masterpiece!!! As in “a work of outstanding artistry!” I am outstanding artistry! Whether others see me as such or not, whether someone would place value on what I have to offer or not, whether I perform to my own level of expectation or not; I am God’s masterpiece. It’s liberating and reassuring.
YOU are God’s masterpiece.
I’m saying your foot isn’t like anyone else. So let’s get out of our Wal-Mart-Shoe-Insert mentality and realize how unique He created us!
In the movie The Help, Abileen spoke words of truth into little Mae as she said, “You is smart. You is kind. You is important.”
Let’s look in the mirror, repeat those words, and remember we are custom-made by God and for God. One-of-a-kind. Unique. Valuable. Important.
****Three ways to help us grow—share, comment, subscribe.**** Connect with Us! Click Here to Subscribe Could our story be of benefit for your group or upcoming event? Click here to contact us! Choose this link to see a video of our story
About the video-- the day of Gavin’s casting for his shoe inserts, he was confused asking, “you mean they’re going to put a cast on me?” I said, “No. It’s just what they call it when they make a mold of your foot.” He questioned, “You mean mold is going to grow on my foot?!?!” Obviously I was at a loss for words to effectively explain the process, so like any parent in 2017, I said, “Let’s watch a YouTube video.” However, I could not find one video that was consistent with what we would be doing that day. So I thought, “I need to video this so other kids will know what to expect.” I did just that. But after taking time to assemble the video and publishing it, I found several others that would have been perfect. So I’m going to take this as something we were meant to do, hoping it is still useful for someone. Here is Gavin's journey through the casting and fitting of his new shoe inserts!
[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYRc4IQuKpo&feature=em-upload_owner[/embed]
