A Bit Different

Is being different good? Is being different fun?

Is being different easy?

These are questions I asked the group of 2^nd graders whom I shared my story with yesterday.

To answer the question, we must consider what is meant by “different.” We go through phases when we strive to fit in, and then periods when we pursue establishing our authentic self. Once again, I might be putting a little tune in your head. The memory of watching Sesame Street when my oldest child was a toddler comes to mind. Ernie would sing, “one of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong.”

It seems somewhere along the way of identifying different “things” we get some type of mindset that it applies to people too, or to ourselves specifically. Scripture tells us we are uniquely made, Ephesians 2:10 (NIV), “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Meaning something made by hand is not an assembly line, cookie cutter product. No, we are all unique and special individuals. Which means we were meant to be different.

Different can seem appealing when we’re talking about creating a new style or breaking out with an original talent. Who doesn’t want to be set apart when it results in affirmation and admiration? However, different doesn’t seem so appealing when it involves disfigurement and defects.

This summer my family and I finally watched Bethany Hamilton’s story, Soul Surfer. I tried to be discrete in my sobbing watching the scenes as they rushed her to the emergency department, her Mom in the following car asking the Lord to please not let her die, medical professionals swarming around her as her parents were pushed to the side. Then she went home. Same home, not the same life. The challenges lay before her, like Bethany lying in her bed looking at her Barbie Doll questioning her own beauty and love in her future, and shopping at the grocery hearing a little girl ask, “Mama, what happened to her arm?” Such an innocent question, but so hurtful.

But you know Bethany’s story, because hello, they made a movie about it! And if you haven’t seen the movie, I highly recommend it, although you’ll probably need a box of tissue, especially if you’ve experienced personal tragedy yourself. So we know that Bethany has the most inspiring ending. She figured out how to return to surfing as the incredible athlete she had within her.

Now, let’s consider another athlete who amazed us last season on ABC's Dancing with the Stars. I have to say, I don’t avidly watch the show, but I did catch a couple of Amy Purdy’s dance routines. I was impressed by her dancing ability, and then to watch intently enough to see she had prosthetics was captivating! Talk about an overcomer!

I touched on these brave women’s stories when sharing my own with the 2^nd graders. And they absorbed the message sensitively and respectfully. But when I put up Elsa’s picture, they were engrossed! Why Elsa? Because Disney gave us a story of a girl who was different and felt defective because of it, and children know and understand her character.

Elsa had a gift, but it took a challenge to discover it. Her ability to thaw was suppressed by her fear to love. Once she learned it, what made her different was no longer a curse but completely magical. Kids get that.

Bethany Hamilton was an amazing surfer, but now she's even more, she's inspiring. She faced the possibility that she may never be able to get up on a board again, but she still tried. Now she’s touched countless lives across the world with her courageous story.

Amy Purdy, on top of being a three-time world cup gold medalist, is a dancer, model, speaker, spokesperson for the National Meningitis Association, and a co-founder of a company who helps adaptive athletes get involved in action sports.

So the questions remain…

Is being different good? No, it’s not always good.

Is being different fun? No, it’s not always fun.

Is being different easy? No, it’s not EVER easy.

But I am encouraged by these stories because what could have caused the story to end actually was what spurred the next chapter.

Personally, I could have never imagined the Lord using my most heart wrenching experiences to touch others. The countless times I laid in bed asking, “Why didn’t I die too?” The many incidences I’ve wanted to crawl in a hole when people stare, or much more, when they point. The memories. The fear. The disappointment. The heartache. The loss. It’s been a journey. Honestly, there are times I still cry. One moment. One decision, at such a young age, changed absolutely everything.

In time, I began to see all the goodness which came from it. I just had to wait. Because only the Lord could have written a story like this.

No, it wasn’t good. No, it wasn’t fun. No, it wasn’t easy. But through the difficulty, I've had the chance to see God’s hand at work in my life. He didn’t intend this tragedy to happen, but He is the Author and Finisher of our faith (Hebrews 12:2 NKJV), which means He gets the final say.  He’s writing the scenes and I’m grateful to be in His storyline.

Yesterday, I looked at about seventy-five 2^nd grade faces and shared my story. They learned about rules to keep them safe, they learned about burn injury, they learned about accepting others as unique and special individuals, they learned not to laugh at or make fun of other people, and I hope they learned sometimes in life, we must simply wait.  Because God can use what's different.  He loves what's not like the other.  Just wait… He'll show you.

Psalm 27:14 NIV

Wait for the Lord;
  be strong and take heart
 and wait for the Lord.

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Give Me a Break

There was a commercial back in the ‘90s with a catchy tune, which sang, “give me a break, give me break; break me off a piece of that….” Do you remember it? Of course you do! “Break me off a piece of that KitKat bar!” From a brief Internet search, I learned the KitKat was originally launched in London in 1935. Who knew KitKats had been around so long? When I think of KitKats, I think of my Grandma Cochrane, my Dad’s mom, who always kept a stash of them in the crisper of her fridge. I think I ate enough of them as a kid to last my lifetime. These memories came back to me after a discussion with my oldest son. Jaron has had a desire to play football since he was little. His Dad and I agreed 3^rd grade would be more of an ideal age to begin playing. Well, when 3^rd grade arrived, Jaron had been invited to join a soccer team. I may have played that up a bit much since I was still concerned about his size and him signing up for a high impact sport. While I gave it my best efforts to guide him toward soccer, his Dad was respectably neutral and we left the decision up to Jaron. He chose to play another year of soccer. Then 4^th grade rolled around and we completely missed the sign-ups. We tried our best to get him on a team, but it didn’t happen. To further complicate the situation, we barely got him back in soccer. Needless to say, it was a monumental parent fail. But he was so gracious and understanding.

By the spring of this year we were signed up for football! Well, Jaron was signed up, and incredibly excited! July arrived and he got his pads and helmet, the excitement escalating. And then practices started! Wow! This was official now. No more throwing the football around at recess. This was the real deal.

Jaron was placed in a variety of positions to determine where he’d best suit the team. One thing, they decided he was a good punter. Seems all those seasons of soccer was a benefit in that area. But they also had him playing tight end and quarterback.

Now. Let me take a brief moment and state a disclaimer. I don’t know much about sports. My Dad didn’t play….at all. I mean my Dad didn’t have any hobbies. He truly was a workaholic. He didn’t hunt, fish, golf, nothing. Therefore, my encounters with sports have been very limited until my son. I try to keep somewhat close to my husband at the games to ask questions, since I don’t fully know what’s going on. Making goals and touchdowns I understand, but the technicalities, rules and positions, I need a little help with. But I am learning. I enjoyed soccer more with every passing season. Baseball has been a lot of fun too. Hearing the sound of the bat sending the ball across the field is exhilarating. Basketball is INTENSE! Man, now that’s a game that can change at the drop of a dime. So suspenseful, but I absolutely loved watching. Now here we are with football. There’s nothing more Oklahoman than football in the fall. We’re all so thrilled to be a part of it, even though some of us have a little more to learn than others; it’s equally as exciting.

The anticipation for the first scrimmage was high. Jaron had literally waited years to play. For a ten year old, that feels like a lifetime. He played his position as tight end, he fulfilled his role as punter and then he got put in as quarterback. The play started. Before any time, he was sacked. Then another play. Sacked again. Then another. Sacked.

When we got in the car we passed headphones out to the other three kids and put on a movie. I said, “Jaron, Dad is concerned about how you played, but I’m your Mom and I want to know how you feel.” I thought my heart was going to fall out of my chest when I heard his answer. My son who is always eager to learn, driven to succeed, striving to shine, answered in the most solemn tone, “Like I shouldn’t have signed up.” With much prompting to share his thoughts, he began to express how it was his fault the plays were incomplete. He felt entirely responsible for the defeat. He felt like a total failure. It was so discouraging listening to his perception that he shouldn’t have even tried.

You may be thinking, “Oh, poor guy.” But you do it to yourself too! We all do. It came together for me while listening to him speak. I had just done it the week before. My recertification for NRP didn’t go as smoothly as I would have liked. No worries. I’m recertified. But I had higher expectations for myself. I left with dreadful thoughts about my abilities as a neonatal nurse. It’s like if we don’t perform as a star then we aren’t good enough to participate. GIVE ME A BREAK! Why do we put so much pressure on ourselves?

My son neglected to remember he had an entire team on the field. He felt solely responsible for the results of the scrimmage. I overlooked the fact that four other people were participating in our mock code. I accepted feelings of inadequacy. And why? Did anyone imply those judgments? No. We did it to ourselves.

It’s good to desire improvement. My resolution to my internal frustration was purchase my own material, consistently study and make the information solid, like my favorite dish in which I no longer even need the recipe to make. That happens with constant interaction with the material. The same goes with anything in life. You study what you want to know, what you want to become. And we encouraged Jaron to do the same thing. Watch more football games. Study your plays. Ask the coach questions.

Again. It’s good to desire improvement, but stop beating yourself up. Give yourself a break. Give your all, and when it’s not enough, go back to the drawing board, regroup, come up with another plan or approach. But give yourself a break.

Even those considered “go getters” can get sacked so many times it causes them to feel like failures and therefore feel like giving up. I truly believe that the greatest, grandest and most meaningful plans the Lord has for our lives are going to come with maximum challenge and will require our utmost determination, strength and fortitude; found only in Him.

You see, when we confront our limitations, it doesn’t mean we can’t succeed; it means we identify the source to succeed. Give yourself a break! Put your reliance on the Source, the Creator of the goals and desires springing from your heart.

I wait quietly before God, for my victory comes from Him. He alone is my rock and my salvation, my fortress where I will never be shaken. Psalm 62:1-2 NLT

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Ice Cold

But when you give to someone in need, don’t let your left hand know what your right hand is doing. Give your gifts in private, and your Father, who sees everything, will reward you.                                           Matthew 6:3-4 (NLT)

This scripture came to mind a few weeks ago when I was nominated for the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. I had spent the day at work and was scheduled to be back the next. Before turning in for the night, I checked Facebook and had a few notifications. I reviewed them, only to see one of my dearest friends dumping a bucket of ice water over her head, not before naming me as one of her nominees. In consideration of the fourteen hours I am away from my home on the days I work, thus not able to meet the twenty-four hour timeframe; and furthermore, considering the friendship and admiration I have for this person, I resorted to budgeting in my donation from my next paycheck and leaving my participation silent.

That is until my ten year-old son was nominated, followed by my thirteen year-old daughter, and then once again I was nominated by someone I go to church with. I’m going to be brutally honest. I felt somewhat annoyed. Can’t we just give privately without all social media knowing? Can’t we support a worthy cause without dumping a bucket of ice water on us? And what kid actually has their own money to donate anyway? Please don’t send me ugly messages for sharing these thoughts with you. I’m going somewhere with it, I promise. I’m learning life lessons, yes even at thirty-three, and this is the place I share them.

My thoughts progressed. Until last Sunday evening when my kids were swimming while my husband and I buzzed around the house, getting laundry and ironing finished, and going through their school papers and agendas to start a new week. My daughter runs in to get her iPod touch, because no, although she is thirteen she still doesn’t have her own phone yet. We didn’t pay too much attention to why she was getting it. But she definitely grabbed my attention when she came back in to tell me she was going to post a video to Instagram of her eight year-old brother taking the ice bucket challenge—AND THE WATER WASN’T EVEN COLD!!!! Well, that’s when I laid it out for three of my children who seemed to view this ice bucket challenge as something fun, something everyone was doing.

The questions began flying. “Do you even know what ALS is?” “Do you understand that it’s a terrible disease, and people don’t only die from it, they suffer?” “Do you think this is about dumping ice water on your head?” “Do you think it’s just funny?” Well, I’m so glad I began asking all those questions that were piling up in my mind and my heart. The outcome was telling my children we could all do the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, but only if they could give me a report on the disease and if they would pitch in some of their own money to donate.

And the next day, they had it all ready. My daughter realizing that this is the same disease her friend’s father passed away from a few years ago. It became personal. It was no longer about the hype of social media, but about a family affected. Girls who will never have their father see them walk the stage at graduation or walk them down the aisle at their wedding. It was about their desperation for a cure not yet available. A cure we all hope to help advance by the buckets of ice water and our donations.

Had it not been for the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge, I don’t know that my children would have been made aware of the disease. It opened the door, not only for me to re-direct them, but for my own correction as well. You see, I’ve read some posts that reflected some of the same thoughts I had. Some of us are resistant to jumping on what we think are bandwagons. But this opened the door for awareness. This opened the door for education. This opens the door for the possibilities to advance research.

I understand, when we give, we don’t want to shout it from the rooftops. And while some may see it as such, it’s undeniably been a fantastic inspiration in prompting others to give. I’m grateful to have been nominated and to have participated, and I’m proud of my kids for pushing me to do so.

“You should remember the words of the Lord Jesus: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’”             Acts 2:35 NLT

“And you yourself must be an example to them by doing good works of every kind. Let everything you do reflect the integrity and seriousness of your teaching.” Titus 2:7 NLT

Click To Donate ~ link to ALS

Click to Watch this INSPIRING Story

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Peace with Others

No one likes to be criticized. No one enjoys negative comments. No one desires or requests put-downs. But the reality is, anyone who does anything takes the risk of being ridiculed. The tendency is, fly under the radar. Don’t do anything to stand out. Don’t do anything to create a target. Don’t do anything to warrant attention, ‘cause it could be negative. When it comes to making a list of things we love about ourselves versus things we don’t really like or would like to change, the latter tends to be an easier list to make. I know it is for me. And I actually observed this when speaking at a women’s conference. I gave the ladies thirty seconds to make a list of things they didn’t like about themselves and then the same amount of time to make a list of things they loved about themselves. The “things loved” list was shorter than the “things not liked” list. Which means that we are hard enough on ourselves without the help of others. So why the need to contribute to someone’s “things not liked” list?

One thing I wish I could change about myself is how I care about others’ opinions of me. I can’t begin to describe how it hurts me when I realize I’ve been the topic of destructive speech or when I’m the recipient of unpleasant actions. It’s an emotion I much rather avoid. Therefore, it’s tempting to disregard the callings, ignore the vision and forget about being the person God desires me to be.

Yep. I just wrote that! Because, it is for real! I seriously have those thoughts. But I know I’m not the only one—which is why I wrote it. This blog is relational; reaching out, walking through and regrouping when these unpleasantries of life surface.

For someone who cares about others, I surely do put myself in a position of being criticized. I spent years performing vocally. Talk about vulnerability. There is always someone in the audience who thinks they could have sang it better, and many times probably could. I’ve opened my life up to numerous people through public speaking. While the Lord has given me the blessing of knowing and seeing lives touched through that ministry, I also am well aware of the critical hearts. And then there is here, in my writings. I share my life with countless people and yet again, there are those who have blessed my heart with encouragement, and others who have picked me apart.

Proverbs 18:21 tells us there is life and death in the power of the tongue, and many people are walking around like zombies because of the words they choose to speak. How refreshing to speak life. I know. I know. Sometimes it’s a challenge, but that’s when we can remember what Thumper’s father says. Remember? In Disney’s Bambi, when Thumper points out that Bambi doesn’t walk very well, his mama says, “Thumper, what did your father tell you this morning?” Yes. You remember. “If you can’t say somethin’ nice, don’t say nothin’ at all.” Putting people down is like dripping barbeque sauce on a white shirt; it stains. While we may ask for God’s forgiveness and their forgiveness, while we may try to clean it up, those words leave a mark, and not just on their heart, but on ours too.

Yes, those thoughts like, “what’s the point?” and “who really cares?” cross my mind. And although it bothers me and hurts me, it’s not gonna stop me, because I know these are tactics to prevent me from doing and being what the Lord desires. Who said it would be easy? Who said it’d always be fun or pleasant?

I realize there are people who flat out don’t like me, they don’t agree with me and they don’t want anything to do with me. But I can’t let pessimisms predicate who I am. And you can’t either. At the end of each day, remember whom we live to please. He gives us the courage to fly in the radar. He equips us to be all we can. He’s the greatest contributor to our best qualities. And He reassures us when the world hurts us.

May you feel His peace…..

Proverbs 16:7 (NKJV) When a man’s ways please the Lord, He makes even his enemies to be at peace with him.

Romans 12:18 (NIV) If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.

So cute…. So true….

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nGt9jAkWie4[/embed]

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My Dads

Have you ever thought about how many scriptures mention “Father.”  Well, I have.  So I thought I’d just check it out on www.biblegateway.com.  Evidently, in the New International Version, “Father” is mentioned 1,103 times. “Heavenly Father” 8 times. During the months of June, July and August I have such frequent reflections of my Dad.  In June we take an entire day to honor our fathers.  Although he’s not with me anymore, I offer deep gratitude to the Lord for giving me a father who was a hard worker, generous, and boisterous in personality.

Three days ago, on July 6^th we would have celebrated my Dad’s 70^th birthday.  My Mom and I spoke about what a grand party we would have thrown.  Invitations would have been sent, decorations purchased and food prepared.  And my Dad would have loved it because he loved being around people.  People energized him, a characteristic he and my Mom shared, and one I identify in myself.

August marks the anniversary of his passing.  How gracious the Lord was to take my Dad so quickly.  We continually find comfort in 2 Corinthians 5:8, which says, “We are confident, I say, and would prefer to be away from the body and at home with the Lord” (NIV).  We believe the moment my Dad left his earthly body he was in the Lord’s presence.  But while my Dad’s earthly body remain in his office chair, awaiting the arrival of the sheriff, there was a man who sat with my Dad.  That man loved my Dad.  That man was my father-in-law.

On the heels of a significant loss only what is gone is felt.  The ache, pain and emptiness does not allow for the possibilities of what can be. Transitioning to a life without our loved one is so difficult.  The phone rings and it feels like it’s them.   Them walking through the door any moment is anticipated.  Reminders of their life surrounds; their clothes, their vehicle, watches and shoes, as if they’re just on vacation.  In fact, I had numerous dreams exactly along those lines.  But the beautiful thing about time is, as it passes, life continues to change and the Lord helps us to treasure what we do have instead of focus on what we don’t.

And what I have is a father-in-law who never fails to hug me “hello” and “goodbye.”  This man whom I have known for over seventeen years, and whom I have known would never be considered a hugger, is unhesitant in giving affection as my Dad always did.  He has been the most amazing Pawpaw to my kids; tea parties with my daughter, wrestling matches with my boys.  If our family had a fan club, he’d be in it, setting in the audience at recitals and the bleachers at games.  He has been one of my biggest supporters, helping with the kids when I was in nursing school; whether it was sports related or school related he was there to help whenever we called.  And when it comes to my marriage to his son, he speaks life and promotes unity. In fact, only just a few weeks ago, he came in the middle of the day to take us to the airport for our anniversary getaway.

You see, I felt a sense of abandonment when my Dad passed.  Not in the sense of rejection as many children unfairly experience, but just a feeling of being lost.  This person, who had been there my whole life, who was half of my existence, who always seemed to have answers and a plan, was gone.  Although I was married with a child and a baby, I still had security in my Dad.  And I suppose I experienced vulnerability in a way I had never anticipated.  And I confronted my identity in a way I had never been challenged before.

The Lord blessed me with strength and security, an unexplainable peace, an excitement for the future and gratitude for the present.

And my father-in-law is present in and a gift to my life.  He is the mentor relationship.  He gives those words of wisdom.  He is the encourager and affirmer.  He is interceding on our behalf.  He is the parent we adult children still long for.

Father is mentioned over one thousand times in scripture.  What an important and honorary role for a man, the opportunity to be a reflection of our Heavenly Father.

My life is blessed, because I’ve had two!

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Packing for Possibilities

We are pretty disciplined to a budget. Those pay days roll around and we divvy up; categories like tithes, missions, savings, vacation, Christmas, oh and of course, the ever revolving bills. Every penny is accounted for and assigned. So when my husband suggested going on a trip for our 15^th anniversary, my response was “Oh that would be so wonderful, but babe, we haven’t saved for it.” Vacation? Yes, that’s in the fund. But vacation includes the family; those precious people who are only under our roof for a limited number of years. Anniversary trip? No, not a single red cent put back. As the months went by and my husband periodically suggested it, I’d keep to the budget, saying how I’d love to go but we just didn’t have it, until one evening when my husband expressed his feelings quite clearly. He said, “If we were deciding to end our marriage we wouldn’t count how much money we had in savings first, so why can we not take some to do something for our marriage?” The guy knows how to make a point. He continued with statistics that the average marriage lasts seven years, so he felt we should take three trips. Ha. Ha. But one nice trip would suffice for the milestone.

See, for me, it’s justifiable doing that for a medical treatment of an unexpected illness or to replace household equipment for an unexpected breakdown, but just to spend on a trip? I mean, who does that? Well, evidently we do because it is our belief that if we invest our money wisely the Lord will provide for all of our needs and sometimes our marriages need a little money invested.

So there we went doing something we never do; tipping our hats to spontaneity, pulling from our general fund and booking an all-inclusive trip to St Lucia at the beautiful adults only Sandals La Toc resort.

Our motive for such a trip was to be excluded together and focus solely on one another. But with our quickly approaching trip, we began to consider the available excursions. There was so much to do; the spa, golf, snorkeling, a bike ride to the waterfalls, tours of the rainforest and mud baths, zip line activities, horse back riding, or hiking the infamous Pitons. We just didn’t know what all we might want to do. The need to see it all arises considering the cost and distance traveled. Make the most of the opportunity. So we packed for it all. Just in case.

We arrived in St. Lucia at 1:50pm Friday June 13^th. Our luggage arrived to our room at 5:15pm on Sunday June 15^th. For the interim we didn’t have undergarments, dinner clothes, hair products or the most important for a trip to the beach, our swimsuits. Needless to say the experience has educated us on the importance of packing a carry on, and although we’ve traveled numerous times before without this inconvenience, we have definitely learned and will travel differently from now on. Our resort was ever so hospitable in trying to accommodate our needs for a problem in which they held no responsibility. As frustrating and disappointing, as it was to be there without our things, it was an opportunity to see the generosity and kindness of the beautiful natives illustrated to us.

In our prayer time together, we asked the Lord to help us focus on the reason we came…. to spend time together. And when our luggage did arrive, the contents portrayed our plans for the possibilities. However, most of it we never even used.

Doesn’t this sound familiar? When we say our vows we have many plans in store. We have packed up a lifetime of dreams in our hearts.   When we say, “I do” we unite those dreams; those goals; those plans with the person whom our soul loves (Song of Solomon 3:4).

But wow! Let’s just say that sometimes, that luggage doesn’t arrive. Well, maybe it does, but with a few more pieces.

You see, when we set out to start our life with our spouse, we’ve packed for many possibilities; the possibility of a home, of children, of goals achieved, of education and careers. But do we pack for the possibility of sin, of disappointment, of betrayal, sickness, or failure? I don’t know that many of us do. I can tell you, I didn’t. I knew we’d have bumps along the way, but I never imagined anything too terribly catastrophic. I certainly didn’t foresee financial decline, the loss of a pregnancy, or the bitter insecurity of mistrust to creep into our relationship. Those were definitely issues I had not packed for.

But guess who did? My Heavenly Father. Out of His abundance came His provision, His comfort and His forgiveness. The suitcase that carried our darkest moments also carries our greatest testimony. My husband is far from perfect. And he married someone just the same. That’s an eye opener right there. Because although we know our spouse isn’t perfect, we don’t really make allowances for their sin, and by nature that’s what we all are, sinners. Thankfully Someone did take that into consideration. The Word tells us in 2 Corinthians 12:9, His grace is sufficient and that His power is made perfect in weakness. Exactly the reason we need the Lord as the foundation of our relationship.

I’m so grateful we haven’t given up in those times we were tempted to give up. Because I can’t imagine forfeiting all the goodness the Lord had in store. I’m reminded of our instruction to press on in Philippians 3:12 and furthermore, to forget what is behind and strain toward what is ahead in verse 13. The years truly do get better and better. I can’t imagine loving him more, but I know will. Love is the byproduct of a life invested together.

We went to St. Lucia and we didn’t golf, we didn’t snorkel, we didn’t bike ride to the waterfalls or tour the rainforest and mud baths, we didn’t zip line, horse back ride, or hike the Pitons. We did sit on the beach. We did sink our toes in the sand. We did listen to the waves roll in. We walked and reminisced; we planned and reflected. We held one another. We had no interruptions, no obligations, no schedule. We had each other…. for an entire week. And I can’t think of a better return on investment or a bigger bang for our buck.

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6aiOTgNReWI&feature=youtu.be[/embed]

*** special thanks to Terry, Victor and Tracy at Sandals La Toc along with other staff like Travis & Valentine the photographers, Rufina our server for the candlelight dinner, SueAnn in housekeeping, and Kevin from food & beverage-- each one contributed to the special time we were able to spend.

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Give a Little Honey

When searching “The Benefits of Honey,” multiple websites resulted, laying claim to the use of honey in treating allergies, aiding in sleep, enhancing athletic performance, and even treating wounds, such as burns. The same search through Google Scholar provided many articles on the subject. I’m skeptical of the grandiose claims. I eat honey simply because it tastes sweet; any added benefit is icing on the cake. However, there is another type of sweetness that is undoubtedly good for the body, and the soul. The sweetness found in kind words. New nurses don’t anticipate receiving too much “honey.” There’s not too many opportunities to hear encouraging words, especially from physicians. Why? Because there hasn’t been enough experience to really benefit the team. Hard workers? Yes. But savvy clinicians? Not quite. It’s a time when the team is investing. It is a time when the doctor, the respiratory therapist and when fellow nurses are helping that new nurse connect the dots from textbook to practice.

There are occasions when the unexpected and unanticipated words of affirmation are spoken. I remember two.

The first was when I was working night shift. This was about three months into my new nursing career. I was taking care of a baby who had a tracheoesophageal fistula and esophageal atresia. The baby’s temperature had steadily increased throughout the night, along with the respiratory rate, and the baby just seemed different. I spoke with several nurses, and fact of the matter was I knew I needed to call our neo. No problem, right? Hardly. It was approaching three in the morning and I knew I would wake him up. And then what if he was mad because maybe my concerns were misinterpreted? Regardless, I had to call.

I punched my “neo on call” button and the line began to ring. That awkward moment of identifying yourself and then pausing for the person on the other end of the line to wake up took place; I wonder if it’s something I would have gotten use to had I continued on night shift. I informed him of the infant’s status. He began to ask questions, which caused me to feel even more terrified. I was calling him with questions, I gave him the only bits of information I had. So I thought. That sweet doctor asked, “The baby went to radiology today, right?” I said, “Right.” He said, “Well, it could be the contrast causing the change, do you think?” I said, “I’m sorry, I have no idea.” He said, “It could be the contrast or he could be septic. How do we know?” Again, I said, “I don’t know.” He said, “Well, we don’t. So we better get a CBC and blood culture.” I took the order and proceeded with the lab. That morning he made his rounds and wrote orders for antibiotic therapy because the baby’s white count was elevated along with the fever and respiratory rate. He said, “Good job! You caught that!” What???? Me???? Wow! I sure wasn’t expecting that, and I surely will never forget it.

Another instance occurred about a year into my nursing career. I was on day shift at this point. My assignment was a one-on-one. In critical care, we know that’s not so good. The baby had NEC and the bowel had perforated. At the point I had the baby the abdominal cavity was somewhat open with retention sutures, the baby was being treated for sepsis, was on a JET and was down right very, very sick. I was drawing frequent blood gases. When the results printed for one in particular, I thought, “No way. This can’t be right.” When I handed the results to the baby’s neonatologist I said, “I think there must be an operator error.” She chuckled a little and then said, “No, you did it right. This baby is very sick.”

I administered countless meds, we had x-rays, gave blood, ran gases and I can’t even remember everything else. What I do remember is I had a realization that this baby could die. With each task and every intervention, I prayed. I prayed for a miraculous work in her body. I prayed the Lord would make Himself known to everyone involved in her care by the supernatural touch she so desperately needed. And the other thing I remember is walking out that day. I was exhausted and the baby was not stable. I had given my all and it just didn’t seem like enough. Needless to say, I wasn’t feeling too great. And that is when those sweet words, like honey, fell upon my ears. Dr. Malik, sitting at the computer, didn’t look up but said, “You did a good job today, Heather.” I didn’t even know she knew my name! And I surely didn’t feel like I had made much of a difference. But her words made a deposit in my heart giving me the tenacity to come back and do it all over again.

I would love for every physician to know how much of an encouragement they can be to their nurses and what a difference it makes in the work environment. Nurses are going to give their best regardless, because it’s all about the patient, but nothing is stronger than unity. And when everyone is united, the moments of teaching and instruction are well received, the inhibition to ask questions is removed and the security of the team benefits the whole reason we are there…the patient.

Proverbs 16:24 says, “Kind words are like honey—
sweet to the soul and healthy for the body.” I’m deeply grateful for the opportunities to work with physicians like Dr. Anderson and Dr. Malik who took a moment to speak kind words. While those moments likely fade from their memory, they will never leave mine.

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Bonus Mom

In honor of Mother’s Day, I’d like to share with you the following beautiful story. Ruth 1:1-18

1 In the days when the judges ruled in Israel, a severe famine came upon the land. So a man from Bethlehem in Judah left his home and went to live in the country of Moab, taking his wife and two sons with him. 2 The man’s name was Elimelech, and his wife was Naomi. Their two sons were Mahlon and Kilion. They were Ephrathites from Bethlehem in the land of Judah. And when they reached Moab, they settled there.

3 Then Elimelech died, and Naomi was left with her two sons. 4 The two sons married Moabite women. One married a woman named Orpah, and the other a woman named Ruth. But about ten years later, 5 both Mahlon and Kilion died. This left Naomi alone, without her two sons or her husband.

6 Then Naomi heard in Moab that the Lord had blessed his people in Judah by giving them good crops again. So Naomi and her daughters-in-law got ready to leave Moab to return to her homeland. 7 With her two daughters-in-law she set out from the place where she had been living, and they took the road that would lead them back to Judah.

8 But on the way, Naomi said to her two daughters-in-law, “Go back to your mothers’ homes. And may the Lord reward you for your kindness to your husbands and to me. 9 May the Lord bless you with the security of another marriage.” Then she kissed them good-bye, and they all broke down and wept.

10 “No,” they said. “We want to go with you to your people.”

11 But Naomi replied, “Why should you go on with me? Can I still give birth to other sons who could grow up to be your husbands? 12 No, my daughters, return to your parents’ homes, for I am too old to marry again. And even if it were possible, and I were to get married tonight and bear sons, then what? 13 Would you wait for them to grow up and refuse to marry someone else? No, of course not, my daughters! Things are far more bitter for me than for you, because the Lord himself has raised his fist against me.”

14 And again they wept together, and Orpah kissed her mother-in-law good-bye. But Ruth clung tightly to Naomi. 15 “Look,” Naomi said to her, “your sister-in-law has gone back to her people and to her gods. You should do the same.”

16 But Ruth replied, “Don’t ask me to leave you and turn back. Wherever you go, I will go; wherever you live, I will live. Your people will be my people, and your God will be my God. 17 Wherever you die, I will die, and there I will be buried. May the Lord punish me severely if I allow anything but death to separate us!” 18 When Naomi saw that Ruth was determined to go with her, she said nothing more.

Oh wait, this isn’t a story about a mother and her child.  No, it’s not. It’s even more beautiful than that precious relationship. Why? Because of the choice. Ruth chose to stay with Naomi. She chose to love her. And it’s not because she didn’t have anyone else. No, Ruth chose to love Naomi and stay with Naomi, EVEN THOUGH she had a family of her own. She made the decision not to go back to her family because she wanted to stay with Naomi.

Isn’t that a testimony to the type of relationship they had? It was a love for one another independent of Ruth’s relationship with her husband. It was a love for one another regardless of the limited memories they had the opportunity to create. It was a love which surpassed tradition or unofficial mental requirements.

This story is one of my absolute favorites because the Lord blessed my life with the same gift. When I married my husband, nearly fifteen years ago, I didn’t get “in-lawed,” I got “adopted,” and it wasn’t because I needed to be; I had a loving mother and father of my own, but it was because of the parents my husband had that I was welcomed as a child of their own.

I can call upon my mom-in-law at anytime and I know that she is there for me, in multiple aspects. Like the time I stopped by her house on my way home from town, completely burdened with the realization that someone I loved very dearly no longer wanted me in their life. I was devastated. Both of my parents-in-law sat with me at their table and prayed over me. They spoke wisdom and strength into my heart and helped me in the process of releasing that to the Lord. My mom-in-law was at my bedside and wiped my forehead from sickness that overcame me when I was miscarrying my baby. She stood close by as we buried my Dad, a grief she knew all too well from having to say goodbye to both her parents far too early.

My mom-in-law has supported me to be able to operate in my calling through the ministry of nursing by the innumerable times she has picked up, dropped off or taken the kids where they needed to be. She has supported me in my marriage to her son by helping us to carve out and utilize the rare opportunity to get away together. She has cooked for me, cleaned for me, done my laundry, sewn numerous custom made Halloween costumes.

But above all she does for me, she loves me, and I believe she loved me long before her son ever looked my way. I believe she loved me when she began loving him- from the very beginning. I believe that as she rocked her precious baby boy she prayed for the baby girl he would marry. And I believe this, because of, the hand I hold today; the hand I have held for over 15 years. My husband had a uniquely mature ability to overlook imperfection and chose what his mom taught him was something worth finding- faith, character, dedication, genuineness.

My mother-in-law is my Naomi. I love her so very dearly. You may be reading this and thinking, “Well, my mother-in-law is a far cry from that!” And if so, I am so deeply sorry. I grew up in a family where I observed that unfortunate and saddening dynamic. However, although you can’t change people, you can change you, and you can influence the future. Mark Batterson says our focus determines our reality. If you are dealing with a difficult mother-in-law, challenge yourself to focus on something to make the most of the relationship, even if it’s the simple fact that she gave you the gift of your husband. Furthermore, to the beat of M.C. Hammer, “you’ve got to pray.” Pray over your children and begin praying for their future spouse, and then focus on being the mother-in-law that you always dreamed of.

For all of the mother’s who have their ducklings close in their nest, for all the mother’s who have watched their kiddos spread their wings and for all the mother’s who are now grandmothers….. be someone's bonus mom; you can make the difference.

Happy Mother’s Day to you!

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Distractions

In June 2010 my husband and I traveled to New York for a six-day vacation to celebrate our 11th anniversary in the Big Apple. It was a special time spent together touring touching places like the Museum of Jewish Heritage, the World Trade Center site and Ellis Island. We crammed all we could into our opportunity there. One thought consistently crossed my mind as we traveled about the city; God knew each and every individual we passed.

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Perhaps being from a small town contributes to the fascination I have in looking at numerous different faces in big cities. I had these same thoughts years ago when traveling in Europe with my high school. This obviously continued into my adulthood.  Even on our family Disney trips I’ll save parade spots and just “people watch.” But something about standing in Time Square with the massive digital signs, towering buildings, commotion of traffic and diversity of people amazed me there was not a familiar face around, but there was to my Heavenly Father. He created each and every one of those individuals and He knew each and every one of their names and their stories. But did they know Him? And if not, what kept them from knowing a God who loves them so?

The opinions and assumptions to those questions could be as numerous as the faces I’ve seen. But it’s a thought that leads me right to my own backyard. And my answer goes right back to the Big Apple.

Parents desire to impart to their children what is most important to them, and for us, our faith is the foundation of our home, of our life. So what could possibly keep our children from clinging to the faith we are so dedicated? Distractions. At times, it’s like having massive digital signs, towering buildings, commotion of traffic all right here in our living room. Even things that seem good can be a distraction from the goodness God has in store. Things like friends, relationships, school, beauty, and popularity to name a few.

You may be wondering, “Where did this come from?” Well, this comes from my current experiences with raising our teenage daughter. There are continual discussions around our kitchen table after the boys go to bed. And although I light heartedly say I’ll need a vacation after she is raised, it is nothing but true how incredibly exhausting it is to reiterate and use her current life situations to illustrate the principles and values we have spoke into her life from the beginning. But one thing I know for sure, I know we will look back and be assured that we gave it our all.

Our greatest tool is talking. I can’t count how many times she has said, “Hmm. Well, I never thought about it like that.” WHY??? Because she is thirteen. Our kids need our help in such a big way, because they are encountering life with no life experience. And maybe their experiences and challenges are different from our experiences and challenges. What do we do then? We pray. We discuss what God’s Word says. We ask for wisdom.

For instance, I never considered the challenges beauty could bring to one’s life until now. My experiences were quite different from my daughter’s. Nevertheless, could still be as equally destructive.

In this self obsessed culture of social media and “selfies,” it is easy to see how a young woman could become fogged with the presentation of her package over the contents of her heart, her character, her talents and her mind. It is obvious that an emphasis on appearance and continual peer approval can inflate a young girl’s ego. Have you ever encountered a person who is more concerned with the attention they get than any depth of devotion? This paves the way for shallow relationships and narcissistic behavior.

Sometimes we are puzzled with questions of confidence. But is it their confidence that some girls struggle? Or is their beauty their feeling of control or their source of experiencing a little power? We’ve observed it in the business world, but how about in the school halls?

Inversely, there are beautiful young women who are innocent of their appearance. Their abilities could be disregarded as just a pretty face. Flattery words could be mistaken for genuineness. Expressions of affections could be incorrectly received as sincere. This results in damaging their security in order to feed someone else’s ego.

As much as I longed to hear the complimentary words of others, I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I was never distracted by such, but rather forced to dig deep to find my beauty. Silencing the voices of flattery was never an issue in my life; silencing the voices of ridicule was. But the latter made me aware of a beauty that will never age or wrinkle, and that is beauty of the heart.

We may not be standing in Time Square, but there is plenty of commotion; there are plenty of distractions. We know them by names like twitter, instagram, phones, and school, to name a few.

May you be blessed as you guide your precious daughter to be who God has called her to be; in all the noise, may she hear His voice.

Keeping it real with our girls……

Psalm 12:3 NIV May the Lord silence all flattering lips and every boastful tongue.

Proverbs 7:21 NLT So she seduced him with her pretty speech and enticed him with her flattery.

Proverbs 26:28 NIV A lying tongue hates those it hurts, and a flattering mouth works ruin.

Proverbs 28:23 NLT In the end, people appreciate honest criticism
 far more than flattery.

Proverbs 29:5 NLT To flatter friends is to lay a trap for their feet.

Romans 16:17-18 NIV I urge you, brothers and sisters, to watch out for those who cause divisions and put obstacles in your way that are contrary to the teaching you have learned. Keep away from them. For such people are not serving our Lord Christ, but their own appetites. By smooth talk and flattery they deceive the minds of naive people.

Proverbs 31:30 NLT Charm is deceptive, and beauty does not last; but a woman who fears the Lord will be greatly praised.

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Tough Cookie

A few months ago I received a message from a reader asking me to write about a subject I’ve had some experience; pain.  I’m deeply touched by messages I receive from readers, and I began seeking the Lord to direct my heart to share what would minister to hearts regarding this subject. Can you recall your first memories of pain?  My earliest memory was when I was five years old.  After a family dinner, several of us decided to walk down to the bridge.  My Grandma lived across the driveway from us and we had stopped at her pear tree before beginning our stroll.  I must have piddled around, as was very typical for me, because everyone had started off out of the driveway.  I ran to catch up, slid on the gravel and cut a gash in my right knee.  The beautiful sunny afternoon ended with a trip to the emergency room and my very first set of stitches.  I was terrified and experiencing the worst pain in my life.  I knew the scar it left would be permanent, as would be the memories.

As you can imagine, that experience wasn’t enough to prepare me for the tragedy to come on April 27, 1988.  I remember the sting in my eyes from the dust as my brother and I traveled on our motorcycle behind the little red truck that sunny spring day.  I remember the blur in the flame as I lay in that fiery ditch.  I remember my face feeling so hot as I was grabbed underneath the arms and drug out of that blaze.  I remember that terrifying helicopter ride, telling my Mom I wanted to go home, thinking that if I could just go home it would all be okay.  These were my first encounters with a pain that, although I experienced, I still cannot fully comprehend.

I spent many years trying to understand something senseless.  How could I possibly make sense of an accident?  It was an accident.  But how difficult it was to let go of the desire for answers.  The question I kept asking was “why?”  I had to stop thinking about the “what ifs.”  While many different small things could have prevented our accident, nothing was going to change it.  My life was changed forever.

But you know this story.  You know how this story ends; with a little girl who overcame the odds and lived and walked again.  This story ends with a sweet boy who fell in love with a girl for who she was instead of seeing the scars she bore.  This story ends with a marriage and four precious babies.  This story has what I would consider, the perfect ending.

It’s much more pleasant to focus on the end.  It makes me happy.  But surprisingly, so does every detail in between.  And that in between time was filled with pain, with years and years of pain.

There was the physical pain.  The bandages being ripped off.  The scar tissue tearing.  The surgeries.  The procedures.  The tests.  Then there was the emotional pain.  The loss of my brother.  The loss of my carelessness.  The loss of my mobility, my hair, my skin, my body as I’d known it.  How I would have loved to have seen that small scar from the fall on the gravel road.  I searched for it, but there was no trace.  Only burns.  Only smelly ugly mushy burns.

Words cannot describe the range and depth of pain.  There are years and years I would never want to revisit, but make me happy.  “How?” you may ask.  Because I overcame.

My Aunt Donna gave me a t-shirt when I was in the hospital that said, “Tough Cookies Don’t Crumble.”  She explained the shirt to me, but at seven years old, I didn’t completely understand it.  All I knew was that she thought I was tough, but I didn’t get what that really had to do with cookies.

Well, that right there is what makes me happy when I think about all the pain.  I was a tough cookie, and I didn’t crumble.  Even years later, when I was still asking God, “Why didn’t I die too?” He was carrying me, and I didn’t crumble.  I overcame.

Pain teaches us a lot about ourselves and more about our God.  And I know in the darkest moments, in the hardest years, in the scariest times, my God was there.  I was never alone.

Many people are hesitant to ask me what happened.  They want to know, but they don’t want to hurt me.  Usually it is phrased like this, “So what happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”  And I don’t mind, because I overcame.

The Word tells us in Revelation 12:11 “They triumphed over him
 by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much
 as to shrink from death.”  I recommend reading the verse in its context, but take this to heart, we overcome by the victory Christ provided to us from His sacrifice on the cross and by our testimony, which is why I absolutely love to share with others what happened to me, because although it’s the most physically and emotionally painful story, it’s my testimony and I’m so grateful to be alive to share it.

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My Heart Judged

I love birthdays! And today is mine. It’s inevitable my Mom and I will sit and visit about memories that only she can recall; the actual day of my birth.  I recall the celebrations.

Mom was just reminiscing back to my 9^th birthday.  We had traveled to Van Buren, Arkansas to see family friends.  Doyle Williams, the dad, and my Dad were the best of friends.  Their friendship provided for the bond that was formed with the mom, Linda, and their two girls Sara and Leslie.  We spent time together more like cousins.  And my 9^th birthday wasn’t the first one we had celebrated together, but it was a special one to celebrate, because it was nearly two years post motorcycle accident, meaning it was also after the death of my brother, Jon.  Birthdays were always special, but became even more precious to us after being impacted by my brother’s death almost two years earlier, when he was only nine years old.

Many people have difficulty with birthdays, because birthdays mean aging.  And aging is synonymous with decline.  My family loves to joke. I grew up with many one-liners.  My Dad was quite witty and would get a laugh at the most unpredictable moments.  I guess you could say that laughter was our medicine.  And even though my Mom says this as a joke, there’s much truth in her words regarding birthdays, “It’s better than the alternative.”  Kind of adjusts the view on aging.

But our bodies were never meant to last forever.  The Lord never intended for this to be it.  Hebrews 13:14 (NLT), “For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come.”  Makes me want to sing, “This world is not my home, I’m just a passing through. My treasures are laid up, somewhere beyond the blue.”

What makes birthdays so grand?  What makes birthdays so special? Well, it’s not the day.  It’s not the birthday occasion alone.  People make birthdays special.  Our family and our friends create the celebration.  Without them, March 23^rd is just another day on the calendar.

I asked Caden, my seven year-old what makes birthdays special.  He answered, “Getting new things; spending time with my family; and having a party.”  This prompted me to reflect back on my most memorable birthdays.

Like the one I had in the 8^th Grade, my 14^th birthday.  The day began as every other, me in my bathroom, with the radio blaring, getting ready for school.  I didn’t have too many birthdays in school, as many of them landed on spring break.  But this particular year, I was in school, and it was my first year at my new school.  During my morning routine, the DJ all of a sudden gave a shout out to a girl who had gotten a ton of calls to wish a happy birthday….Heather Cochrane! Oh my goodness!  Then I got a call from another radio station before school with a birthday giveaway someone had submitted my name for.  WOW!  Once at school, my classmates made the day incredibly special.  I got cards, like the one from my friend Brandon King, who was a funny guy.  He gave me a “custom made” card by crossing out the word “Graduate,” so it would read, “Especially for you, Heather.”  At the end of the day, a boy in my American History class stopped by my locker and gave me a note.  This boy had hardly ever said anything to me.  I waited to open the note and when I did, twenty dollars fell out and I read words that illustrated to me the reality of others observation.  Wes Johnson stated the fact that we didn’t know each other very well, but when he found out it was my birthday he wanted to give me something.  Although we never really spoke, he had evidently observed me enough to draw conclusions, and those appeared to be positive ones.  Wes died from injuries sustained in a four-wheeler accident a year later.  His words impacted my life to be intentional with others.  He taught me you never know whose watching you and whose life you may be impacting.

My 30^th birthday was incredibly memorable.  I was once again in school, but not at all happy about it.  I had signed up for a 3 to 11 clinical rotation.  My clinical instructor was well worth the late schedule.  She laid a strong foundation for my development as a nurse.  But March 23^rd 2011, I was bummed about being away from my kids while they were at school during the day and away from them that evening too.  I really had to get my thoughts and heart in the right place to get to clinical that day.  While there, my friend told me someone had sent flowers to the floor for me.  They were from my sweet hubby!  Later in the evening, everyone was ready to head down to eat dinner.  Our group had mentioned early in the semester that we should all eat at Subway for the birthdays, but I had brought my lunch and insisted that we did not need to go for me.  But my friends insisted more, and we headed down to the hospital’s Subway.  When we walked in, there was my family!!!  They were all there; all of them, my husband, my Mom, my Aunt Donna, and my Mom-in-law and Dad-in-law.  My husband had coordinated with my precious friend, Kari Murphy and she arranged it with my clinical instructor, Ms. BDub, and the entire group!  They were all in on it and I was completely surprised and it was the best birthday ever!  Here I was having this milestone birthday and I didn’t think I’d even get to see my husband or kids all day, but there they were!  It brings such joy to my heart still!

I couldn’t tell you the presents I unwrapped on these two very memorable birthdays.  But I still experience the joy and happiness those birthdays brought to my heart.  The greatest gift I was given was how others made me feel.  One of my favorite quotes is from The Wizard when he says, “A heart is not judged by how much you love; but by how much you are loved by others”―L. Frank Baum, The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.  It’s so catchy.  I see the relevance of that statement in occasions such as birthdays.  The love I feel from each hug, from each wish, from each Facebook message, from the mere fact that others realize it’s my birthday and want to take a moment to acknowledge it, is insurmountable.

Today, my thirty-third birthday, my prayer is found in Psalm 39:4 (NLT),“Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.  Remind me that my days are numbered- how fleeting my life is.”

Today, my thirty-third birthday, my heart rejoices with thanks for YOU……

For you, my family.

For you, my friends.

For you, my faithful readers.

For you who love me and support me, who challenge me and sharpen me, who celebrate these special times………much love and thanks to you!

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Please Be Our 100

Last week, my husband and I marked our 13^th anniversary as parents.  Put another way, our oldest child had her 13^th birthday one week ago, marking the day we first became parents.  Many of you are familiar with our story.  The story that our daughter may have never been born and we would have never become parents at all.  The story that confronted our faith, stared down the doubt in our hearts and faced fear head on. Brooklyn is a beautiful and healthy thirteen year old, and no matter how many years pass us by, I am still moved to tears to reflect on the moment when an obstetrician reviewed my medical history and advised us to consider terminating our pregnancy.  My burn injury is obvious, but it was the unknown condition to the repair of my descending aorta that had so much cause for concern.  I wanted nothing more than to have my baby, and having a physician lay out the risk of my death before my very young eyes was terrifying and infuriating all at the same time.

I had a plan.  And terminating our pregnancy was not at all part of it.  More importantly, God had a plan and His plan echoed the words of Jesus, “What is impossible with man is possible with God” (Luke 1:27).  We clung to that scripture, and on March 4^th 2001 at 11:24pm our precious baby girl made her entrance into the world, weighing five pounds, nine ounces, five weeks early due to the onset of preeclampsia.

It would have been foolish to proceed with our own family planning agenda without further investigating the condition of my aortic repair.  Therefore, a little over a year later, I had a transesophageal echocardiogram, or TEE, performed to assess the current state of my repair.  Following the procedure, in my drug induced state, I repeatedly asked the cardiologist one question, “Will I be able to have more children?”

The answer was, obviously, “yes!”  But my second pregnancy wasn’t without complication.  A mama’s body remembers pregnancy and is somewhat ahead of the game for subsequent pregnancies.  Every mama knows what I’m talking about.  That belly may not get bigger overall, than the last pregnancy, but one thing is apparent, that belly gets bigger faster, and that caused incredible discomfort for me the second time round.  I remember my husband getting home in the evenings and telling him that I just couldn’t stand to stretch anymore for one day.  It was so uncomfortable.  But it was well worth it, because I got one amazing little man.  My very first son was born December 23, 2003 at 7:26pm.  We gave him the name Jaron, which means “he will sing; he will cry out.”  Jaron was my largest baby, weighing in at exactly seven pounds; not large compared to many others, but large for me.  My narrow pelvis presented a challenge for every one of my deliveries, but since my abdomen is scarred, my doctor avoided C-Section at all cost in order to avert the likeliness of a skin graft.  Jaron was quite distressed upon birth and was taken to the NICU and placed on a ventilator.  Despite his arrival with respiratory distress, he was out of the hospital and home with us after eight days.  My now ten year old is strong and active, as any athlete would be.

My heart held the dream of a somewhat large family, but I knew my abdomen couldn’t accommodate it.  I visited my plastic surgeon and he released scar tissue and did skin grafts to my abdomen, groin and inner thighs; the abdomen for previously stated reasons, my groin and inner thighs in attempt to help with the delivery process.  This made a tremendous difference in my third and fourth pregnancies.  Still yet, it was incredibly tight, but I carried Caden longer than any other of my children.  He arrived only eleven days early on August 15^th 2006 at 8:40 a.m., weighing six pounds, eight ounces.  Caden did amazing.

Our fourth child, Gavin was born July 13^th 2009 at 6:32 a.m., weighing five pounds, four ounces, five weeks early; again, due to preeclampsia.  Gavin came out vigorous and strong, but it wasn’t long until the magnesium that I was on throughout labor started taking a toll on his little body.  Gavin also ended up in the NICU for respiratory distress, but came home on a monitor at five days of life.

Every one of my pregnancies was a challenge.  None of them were easy breezy.  Every one of my deliveries were hard.  Each child was born with the assistance of vacuum and forceps.  I was quite consistent in my pushing, getting every one of them out after approximately two and a half hours.  It was exhausting, it was thrilling, and it was scary.  I had the privilege of bringing four incredible human beings into this world.  But again…..it wasn’t without difficulty.  It was actually laden with complication, and some my say, for that, I am foolish.  But I had a plan, remember?  I had a plan of a big family and I knew, with God, that was possible.

Thankfully, there is an organization who helps babies born with complication.  They have developed materials to educate women on how to grow healthy babies; not merely just be pregnant, but how to grow a person.  This organization has researched and formulated drugs given to babies for their best chances of survival after birth.  This organization dedicates funds to continual research and development for babies.

There are many who have a dream to be a mom, but that dream comes with challenges.  Sometimes, despite doing everything right, things go wrong, and there are interventions utilized in those moments, thanks to the contributions from March of Dimes.

As you tuck in your children this evening, or ponder the memories of days gone by, please consider those families who haven’t had the opportunity and consider those families who do, because of what someone else gave.  Our goal is to have 100 friends support us.  100 friends giving $5 each, helping us raise a total of $500 for the babies.

Would you please consider clicking here and making a $5 donation on our behalf?  Your donation honors many families and it honors those of us who dedicate our professional lives to care for the sick babies, to make them well…..forever there is hope.

Romans 5:5 And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us. NIV

http://www.marchforbabies.org/personal_page.asp?pp=3709568&ct=4&w=6360721&u=meadows99    please be one of our 100 for $5

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Work In Progress

There is something I’ve been doing for nearly twenty-six years that I’ve never enjoyed and still don’t.  So why do I keep on doing it?  Improvement.  What in the world is it?  Surgery. I’ve seen cardiovascular surgeons, plastic surgeons, general surgeons and orthopedic surgeons; and they’ve all invested their knowledge and skill into getting me where I am today.  There are memories of going to physical therapy and periodically having my range of motion measured.  I’m sure the memory is somewhat skewed from my childhood perspective, but it seemed that when they broke out the goniometer, I’d have another surgery follow soon.  I had such dread and anxiety the night before my surgeries.  I’d sit in the bathroom and stare at the location to be operated on, whether a leg, an arm, my abdomen.  I’d mentally try to prepare for the pain I’d experience in the hours to come, upon awakening from my anesthesia.

And yes, there’s the anesthesia.  Most of my surgeries I went to sleep without a hitch.  Didn’t always wake up that way.  Like the time I had told my brother, Barry that I’d love to have pizza when I got back to my room.  As soon as they walked in with it, I began vomiting.  Such an unpleasant feeling when one’s been cut open and stapled up.  Lesson learned.  Don’t skip the transition back to solid foods.  But there was a time the going to sleep part was terrifying.  It still bothers me to this day.

Even still, pleasant recollections of my operating room nurses come to mind.  They had the most beautiful eyes from my experience.  I couldn’t see the rest of their face or their hair, covered by their mask and hat, but I could see their eyes and I studied their eyes.  I always found what I was looking for: kindness, tenderness and safety.  They would visit with me, and once the anesthesiologist had placed the mask on my face, I’d begin counting backwards with my nurse.  But one time, I didn’t go to sleep so easily.  Once my eyes closed I began feeling like I was falling down a black tunnel and the tunnel would expand with every beep of the pulse ox.  I could hear the voices of those in the surgical suite, and I felt absolutely terrified.  I was probably about eight or nine at the time.

Those few moments of an unpleasant drifting off to sleep may have only been that; just moments, but it changed the way I like to go to sleep.  When asked if I’ve ever had complications from the effects of anesthesia, I don’t hesitate to share that story, along with the common side effect of nausea and vomiting.  I’m aware they may think this nearly 33 year-old woman is insane, but oh well.  Now I prefer to visit until I go to sleep.  No counting and no masks until I’m out of it.

And here I am, about to head into town for yet another surgery.  By the time this post is published I will be on the other side of the operation.  The side I still dread, but I know is beneficial.  My dear Dr. Norberg use to say, “Heather, no pain, no gain.”  He had a lot of sayings.  I despised hearing them as a girl, but as a woman, they’re my motivation.

Dr. Norberg passed away almost thirteen years ago.  I loved that man.  For all he did for me.  For pushing me.  For believing I could live the life my parents and I dreamed, of walking and having children.  To this day I am motivated to gain a better outcome.  And over the last ten years, Dr. Robert Kirk has tediously worked to help me on this continual journey of improvement.  Dr. Kirk is on the brink of retirement.  He has benefited countless lives, and I’m deeply grateful mine was one of them.

Dr. Kirk and I had a good conversation before scheduling this procedure.  He explained to me that as I age and the effects of gravity take place, I will most likely have areas which will continue to be somewhat deformative.  It reminded me of  what Dr. Norberg said to my Mom when she asked when I would be finished with surgeries.  He told her I would wear out before I’d ever be done.

There’s a lot of truth in what he said.  And there’s a lot of reality in what Dr. Kirk said.  I am getting tired.  I space these surgeries out farther and father.  I put these “improvements” on the back burner because I don’t want the inconvenience of recovery.  I don’t want my kids to see me lying around.  I don’t want them to see me in pain.  And it gets old having to ask others for help.  So Dr. Norberg is quite right.  I am slowing down.  But as Dr. Kirk and I discussed, I long for it to be better.  I know my body will never, ever look anything like what it would have looked had the accident never happened, but I know that it can look better than what it does, and for that this woman is grateful to have the strength, the love and the support for this continual WORK IN PROGRESS.

And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns.  Philippians 1:6 (NLT)

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Let It Go

Have you seen the Disney movie Frozen?  If not, I highly recommend it.  The story line has a strong emphasis on family and the power that comes from a family’s love, how the love for each other can change a situation. Chances are the dynamic vocals of “Let It Go” come to mind.  This is a phrase I’ve uttered many times, but over the past several weeks, it comes out to the tune of the song.  The kids sometimes roll their eyes, but with a smile.  It’s fun. Gets the message across.

Besides the melody, I really like the lyrics.  For someone who desires others to have a positive opinion of me, which boils down to the fact that I prefer people like me, this song has a bold message of assurance and confidence.

The fact is, sometimes we offend people without any intention.  Sometimes speaking our thoughts, sharing our experiences or stating our values, upsets others.  But that fear can’t control us.  Sometimes we have to let it go, and trust God that He knows our hearts and weighs our motives, despite “what they’re going to say.”

I have much admiration for an individual who stands for what he believes despite what others say.  My family and I have had the privilege of knowing this man over the past nearly 15 years.  And while we had countless opportunities to see his heart through our time serving together in youth ministry, it was his sensitivity expressed to us in our own time of need that personalizes the depth of his character and his compassion.

In 2005, my husband and I made a difficult decision for him to quit working in order for him to assume a full-time focus on finishing his engineering degree.  It was his goal to become an engineer and chipping away at it class by class appeared that it was too far out of reach.  Since I carried the health insurance through my job with my Dad’s business, we felt it would be good buckling down and committing it all to achieving this goal.

Brandon started the semester on August 22, 2005 and my Dad passed away quite unexpectedly on August 29, 2005.  Before long, we were selling his business and paying out of pocket for our health insurance.  By November 2006, our savings was approaching depletion and Brandon’s projected date of graduating had been pushed back in result of an advisor’s neglect to detail.  Brandon was sending out resumes, going on interviews, attending career fairs, but nothing was happening.  We knew that come January 2007 we would either have to pay our $900+/month health insurance or our mortgage.  Considering my medical history, it was a scary choice to make.

One Sunday morning, my husband grabbed my hand and stepped out to the altar.  We needed prayer.  We needed the Lord to work on our behalf.  And the person who came to pray with us was Markwayne Mullin.  I have to tell you I said in my heart, “Lord, not him.  He has absolutely no clue where we are right now. “  But how humbled and touched I was when we walked away.  I can only imagine the difficulty for my husband to share our situation with him.  But Markwayne prayed with such intensity, such compassion, and such faith.  You would have thought that he was down to the wire financially.  He put himself in our shoes and prayed for an answer as if his life were to be changed by it.

So you’ll know the conclusion, my husband received a job offer about a month later.  He was able to start December 28, 2006.  Our health insurance never lapsed, and we were able to make our mortgage payment as scheduled.  God provided for us and strengthened our faith through that season.

As for Markwayne, he has become a Congressman and occasionally I read his Facebook posts.  I have no idea what prompted me to read some of the comments on one of his recent posts, but I did.  And while I shouldn’t have been surprised, I was.  Why?  Because I know him.  And I know that he isn’t who some people say he is.  But I also know he can handle it.  God has given him an assurance and confidence to do what the Lord has called him to do.  And I admire that immensely.

Sometimes the comments of others are cold, but don’t let it get to you.  Let it go.  Don’t let the fear of what others say stop you from being you.  God knows who you are.  He knows your heart.  Let’s buck up and carry on!

Joshua 1:9

This is my command—be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid or discouraged. For the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.

*click here to see the trailer for Disney's Frozen

*click here to see the sing-a-long of Let it Go

*click here to visit the site for Congressman Markwayne Mullin

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The Cold Came

Every year, around this time, I have a visitor.  This visitor brings some nasal congestion and a sore throat.  No biggie.  I was on my game and started with my Alka-Seltzer Plus Cold and Cough when I encountered the first sign of symptoms upon awakening for work this past Sunday morning.  Over the next few days I experienced additional symptoms, sneezing, runny nose and coughing.  Now, four days later I have the predictable outcome of the common cold, laryngitis. Although I detest the effects of having a respiratory virus, I’m grateful that it’s come on my once a month, eight-day stretch off.  What causes healthy adults and children to feel cruddy, can be devastating to infants who already have respiratory insufficiencies.  Which is what I hope is at the forefront of every visitor’s mind before coming to see a baby in the NICU.  And it’s the bulldog NICU nurse that screens those visitors to protect the tiny patients.  It’s called advocacy.  And it’s what my children brought to mind this evening.

My children?  Yes.  You see my children were my voice today.  Without even being asked, they began to relay the messages I was straining to communicate.  I couldn’t get above a whisper to ask Caden to put his shoes up.  Jaron did.  I couldn’t notify Brooklyn to come down to dinner.  Caden did.  I couldn’t holler for the dogs to come in.  Brooklyn did.  And even Gavin, offered to take my assigned night, to pray over dinner.  Yes, we have assigned days to pray over meals.  We had to resort to that several years ago because my children were so eager to ask the blessing.  I’d like to think it was due to their deep desire to connect with their Creator, but I’m not convinced that was the case.  Nevertheless, we assigned days to deter from who’s turn it was, and tonight was Mama’s night to pray, but Mama couldn’t speak.

My kids aren’t the only ones in my life who use their voice when there is none.  I grew up with a mother who did and does the same.  It’s evident that my Mom has a sensitivity to animals, babies and the elderly.  I’ve heard her say countless times that she can handle people being ugly, as long it’s directed to someone who can stand up for themselves.  But those identified can’t.  It’s why she gets involved when she observes such injustices.  My Mom isn’t a nurse, but she displays the greatest characteristic of a nurse.  Advocating for others. She won’t back down for what she knows is right; a noble characteristic of the nurse who advocates for their patient.

Nurses speak for patients.  They provide for the needs of those who can’t care for themselves.  They don’t simply clock in and clock out.  They assess, diagnose, plan, implement and evaluate for the entire twelve-hours or longer.  It takes backbone.  It takes heart. It takes endurance. And it’s the greatest job in the world.

Proverbs 31:8-9 (NLT)  Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed. Yes, speak up for the poor and helpless, and see that they get justice.

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A Really Weird Dream

A few nights ago I had a disturbing and very strange dream.  In my dream, I was getting ready to go somewhere.  The surroundings I recall are unfamiliar to me, so I know I wasn’t at home.  While getting ready, someone ran in to tell me there was a huge bug in the other room.  I assured I’d get it.  I quickly finished what I was doing and put on a pair of cute tall-heeled black boots to complete my outfit.  (The boots were familiar to me, as they were the ones my sweet hubby gave me for Christmas.) I walked into the other room thinking I’d take care of the bug.  (This is where the dream turns into some weird oldies sci-fi theme movie.)  But the bug was massive.   It was somewhat resemblance of a cricket.  It was black, standing upright and had huge tentacles.  I assessed the situation to be dangerous and concluded that there was no way I could fight that bug in the heels I was wearing.  I determined I was inadequately dressed to overcome the bug without risking injury to myself.  Someone else stepped up to the task and that’s where my dream ended.

Weird, huh?  Well, I didn’t exactly dismiss the dream as you might assume.  Throughout getting ready for work and driving in, I had this disappointed feeling in myself.  I wondered why I didn’t dream that I saved the day.  I wondered why I was such a coward.  I wondered why I backed down and allowed someone else to do what I said I was going to do.  I shared my dream and my thoughts with my husband and he asked, “So, what’s your bug?”

Hmm.  What is my bug?  Maybe it was that I had recently had one of my own patient’s code, and that I wasn’t as proactive and take-charge as I imagined I’d be.  Instead it felt like a fog, like everything was moving really slowly, as if in a dream.  My little patient was stabilized within minutes, but it seemed like hours.  The moment has replayed in my mind repeatedly.  While I know no super nurse runs a code alone, nor alone, saves the day, I still felt disappointed in myself.  Despite mock codes, the real deal had me feeling like I wasn’t adequately prepared.  Maybe that’s the bug from my dream.

Or maybe it’s this blog.  My presence here has been a source of some very personal and hurtful attacks.  It conjures up thoughts, like: “It’s not worth it.”  “I don’t really have anything special or unique to offer.”  “What, if any, difference am I making?”  I mean, don’t people follow blogs to get recipes and craft ideas, or political views and scholarly opinions?  I don’t have anything to contribute in those categories.  Even though I continue to grow from my investments here and learn from fellow bloggers, I again, still confront inadequacy, so maybe that’s the bug from my dream.

In my dream, I found the bug to be quite scary.  So, if either of these instances are symbolic of my bug, why would I willingly continue to put myself in situations that are sometimes scary?  The answer is for the same reason why any of us do what we do; it is to make a difference.  I have no idea if anything I have to offer in my work, in my writings or in my speaking is worth merit, but God does.  And I know that He can’t use what I won’t give Him, but He can use what I do.  I’ll never know if I don’t offer it.  And these are what I give to Him.  I continue to walk in obedience and trust that despite my shortcomings, despite my fear and despite my inadequacies, HE makes the difference.

There are so many unknowns.  And for someone who always likes to have a plan, the unknowns can be scary.  But it can also be exciting.  Each day ahead holds possibility.  Therefore, let us have an excitement over the wonder and possibility God has in store for our lives.  Each of us are unfinished; allow Him to direct the ending.  The best part is coming!

Proverbs 16:3 (NLT)~ Commit your actions to the Lord, and your plans will succeed.

Excited about the upcoming movie in which Celine sings this theme song, Unfinished Songs, written by the talented Diane Warren

So you're thinking it's ending But it's only just begun Your whole life is there right Right in front of you Life's a story that is all twists and turns All that matters is the lessons we learn

'Cause we're all unfinished songs Waiting for the best part to come along Hey hey And we're all pictures half drawn We can be anything we want Hey hey

Now is your time It's your life No one's living it but you In your hands is your chance to live the life you choose

Life's like music There's so much still unsung Make it magic There's so much still to come

'Cause we're all unfinished songs Waiting for the best part to come along Hey hey And we're all pictures half drawn We can be anything we want Hey hey

You can write the song and write the story Live all of this life in all its glory Take the time to make the time to make each moment count It's your life It's your call Grab the chance Have it all

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FNN8lB6Gb_Y

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The Gift of a Positive Outlook

Many of us are spending some time this evening reflecting back on 2013, thankful for the memories, or perhaps wishing things had gone a bit differently.  There may be some time set aside in how we plan to approach the next year.  My husband and I sit down each year and make plans for the next.  We map out how we plan to use our time, what we intend to do with our kids, what area of ministry we plan to serve and where we want to direct our money.  In other words, New Years provides a time to regroup and perhaps, redirect our focus.  How we approach that is entirely up to us. This reminds me of a conversation I had with my daughter a couple of years ago.  Brooklyn had had the most fabulous fifth grade year.  Her teachers made the school days interesting and fun; the students were friendly, polite and had an encouraging dose of enthusiasm for their time at school.  Brooklyn couldn’t imagine it could get any better.

The night before her sixth grade year started, she shared those very thoughts with me.  We discussed how blessed she was to have experienced such a wonderful school year in fifth grade, but that sixth grade could be just as good, if not better.  She wasn’t convinced.  She couldn’t see it being any better, nor nearly as good as what she had.  She just didn’t think it was possible.  I spoke with her about our outlook.  If she had already determined in her heart that sixth grade wasn’t going to be as fun as fifth, then it wouldn’t; but God could have even more wonderful things in store for her new school year.  And He did!  She absolutely loved sixth grade. What a great life lesson to learn so early.

My daughter’s thoughts weren’t immature though.  They were human.  But I believe as adults, we may be inclined to see it in the other direction.  It can be hard to imagine things getting better when we’re living in the muck and mire of a difficult time.  Life circumstances can be downright brutal.  However, if those realities consume our thoughts, we’ll never see brighter days.

I was honored to have met a man who illustrated the characteristic of a positive outlook.  Nate Waters sustained a spinal cord injury at the age of 19 from an altercation with his mother’s boyfriend.  Due to the resulting diagnosis of quadriplegia, Nate was dependent on nursing home care for over ten years.  At a time when most young people are discovering life and the world, Nate was attempting to accomplish tasks most of us take for granted.  But none of this kept him from pursuing his best.  Even a doctor telling him he would never have the use of his arms or legs prevented him from attaining his goals.

Nate could have spent the rest of his life in bitterness and anger.  He could have accepted the limitations many associate with his diagnosis.  He could have, but he didn’t.  Nate didn’t focus on the injury or the unfairness.  Nate Waters had unwavering determination, immeasurable optimism, and immense drive.  Those characteristics were noted from everyone who had the privilege of knowing him.

This amazing man made no excuses.  He graduated in 2005 with a Bachelor in Business Administration from Oklahoma State University.  He worked at Williams as an accountant and gave back to his community through his involvements in fundraising and public speaking.  He seized every opportunity meeting political leaders like Condoleezza Rice, Dick Cheney, Gerald Ford, Rudolph Guiliani and Colin Powell.  A dear friendship was formed between Nate and T. Boone Pickens who was instrumental in helping Nate reach the goal of independent living.  Nate had his own home, could make his bed, brush his teeth, do his own laundry and partially dress his self.  Although he needed nursing assistance, it didn’t limit his drive or his attitude.  The immense progress he experienced in his rehabilitation gave him great optimism in his on-going efforts to recover.  None of which would have been possible had he not been determined to think optimistically and try for what others deemed impossible.

Nate Waters passed away April 20, 2013 at the age of 35.  Nate touched countless lives and I’m deeply grateful mine was one of them.  He inspires me to dream big and continually strive for what is beyond my reach.

In the New Year, let us glean from Paul’s words:

Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.  Philippians 3:13-14 NIV

May we let go of what is behind….

May we press on…..

May we have an optimistic outlook knowing the One who calls us….

Happy New Year!!!!

~~ Nate Waters~~ 

http://www.ultimatetributes.com/pages/explore-tributes.asp?id=6823

http://www.fox23.com/news/local/story/TCC-breaks-ground-on-Nate-Waters-Physical-Therapy/ZRWKoiBHkEuN8VQoArkbPQ.cspx

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The Gift of Belonging

Every group I’ve been a part of started with some anticipation of not being received.  It must be a little natural to assume the possibility of not fitting in.  After all, there was a time in my early adolescence that I couldn’t seem to find my fit.  In the fog of trying to figure out who I was and who I wanted to be, I had this longing to belong.  It can be a dangerous place for young people; the reason why I’m deeply grateful for how the Lord orchestrated my steps and the people who helped me walk them. I’ve heard people refer to groups as being clicky.  The word carries a very negative portrayal of a cruel, obnoxious group of people.  But that doesn’t necessarily fit all the people who have been labeled as such.  I wonder how many people evaluate a group and conclude that they’re not accepted because they didn’t put themselves out there to take that first step, to face that possibility of rejection or perhaps the wonderful gift of belonging.

I remember my first day working in my unit.  I was super nervous about nursing alone.  I mean, I had the BSN education behind my name and that RN certification, but I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and for some reason I had this fear-- as if I was going to need to resuscitate a baby on my own the first day (I didn't really think that, I just felt THAT nervous).  Coupled with anxiety was concern I wouldn’t be received.  I had signed a two-year contract.  I was committed to this place come rain or shine, and nothing would make that time inch by more than a cold hearted atmosphere.

My approach was to show myself friendly; don’t wait for others to introduce themselves to me; don’t wait for someone to roll out a welcome mat; just put myself out there and start learning this new group of people who were now my co-workers.  I spent the day saying, “Hi.  My name is Heather.  I’m new.”  There’s no telling how many times I shared that bit of information.  Everyone was warmly receptive.  But it wasn’t until I was in the break room and introduced myself to one of the ladies in housekeeping that I was told, “Yes.  I know.  You have a yellow badge.”  Oh my goodness!  My temporary new employee badge was this bright yellow, which screamed, “I’m new!”  And there I had been including that bit of information in my introductions.  So embarrassing, but so funny!

At this time of year when I’m evaluating all the gifts so meaningful to my life, I count the gift of belonging to such an incredible group of health care professionals as one of them.  I work with wonderful people!  And work is only one area.  I’m prompted to reflect on the groups I’ve had the privilege of belonging during the course of my life, the ones that played a role in who I became.

Why does this matter?  Because we all are designed to be loved.  Genesis 1:27 says that we were created in the image of God, and I John 4:8 tells us God is love.  Therefore, we are all geared to be loved.  To be accepted.  To be well received.  Anything less is a wall of protection and fear.

People give meaning to one another.  Being apart of something provides purpose.  The challenge is finding where is our niche.  And thankfully, we have the perfect Navigator to guide and direct us where we will be most effective for Him.  It may take some closed doors, but our ultimate goal is to be right where He wants us when He wants us there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Gift of Belonging:

Age 11

Oklahoma Kids ~ George and Rose Earley’s “Rock On” group

This group came along in God’s perfect timing.  I had great difficulty connecting with my peers at school and never felt that I fully re-assimilated with them after my accident.  Once I returned to school, I was constantly in and out for surgeries.  It was like the first day of school several times throughout each year. I just didn’t feel a part.  Then I found I really loved to sing.  I was nervous and shaky getting on stage, but still loved it and wanted to keep doing it.  George and Rose Earley gave their time to drive nearly an hour one way to work with a group of young performers in creating a show titled “Rock On.”  We practiced several nights a week and had shows on the weekends.  I found purpose and meaning during that time.  And above all, I found acceptance.  I experienced the wonderful feeling that comes from the gift of belonging.

My Gift of Belonging:

Age 13

Frontline Youth Ministries ~ Coweta Assembly of God ~ Steve and Michele Lee (click to visit Michele at her blog)

Yes, this was the age that things really started to unravel.  I was increasingly aware of my body, as many young people are at that age. The image I had of myself was very negative.  I detested the scars covering my body.  And insecurity paved the way for me to believe that those scars were what people really saw when they looked at me.  This led me down a path to take control of what I could control- my weight.  And it got ugly and dark.  I experienced that deep place of depression and that spiral fall of an eating disorder.  My youth pastors constantly spoke God’s Word into my heart and challenged me to see myself the way He saw me.  They allowed me to experience what it was to serve in ministry through music, singing praises to Him in our worship services.  It was a long road.  But my youth group provided me warm memories of fun, laughter and purpose through the many activities we shared together.

My Gift of Belonging:

TABS ~ Tulsa Area Burn Survivors

From the time I was injured in 1988 until now, my family has been involved with TABS.  When I was young we had consistent support group meetings, which was a magnificent blessing to my family.  My parents were greatly involved with giving of their time coordinating an annual 5K run, and constantly giving of their hearts, sharing their pain of loss and their obstacles of my recovery.  The time in TABS kept me close to the burn center where I received my care.  Literally.  The meetings were always in the burn center and that consistent return allowed me to see my nurses and meet new ones.  It kept the place that was home for a few months, feeling like home.  And that’s how it remains when I return today.  I’m proud to have the gift of belonging to such strong and brave people.

My Gift of Belonging:

OU College of Nursing

When I started to pursue the calling God had placed in my heart to become a nurse, I did it with complete focus on accomplishing exactly that-- becoming a nurse.  I didn't even consider the possibility of building special friendships with those along the way.  And I got more than friendships from the experience, I got a family.  We spent countless hours together in the classroom, in lab, in study and in clinical.  Nursing school was so taxing on my family.  It was a very difficult two years.  By the time we got to the end I told my husband, "I am so done.  I just want to be finished.  But I'm afraid that when it is, I will miss what has been one of the greatest seasons of my life."  Yes, I did say that it was a very difficult two years AND I said that it was one of the greatest seasons.  And that is because of the people who I spent it with.  Only God could have assembled our group the way He did, and the memories I have, the friendships I carry, the bond we share will be a most treasured gift of my life.

My Gift of Belonging:

My Family

God gave me a custom made group; my lil’ family.  Mark Batterson said something in one of his podcasts along the lines of the people who know you the best should love you the most.  My husband and my children see me.  They see every angle of me; the good, the bad and the ugly.  And they love me.  These people within the walls of the house I live in are my drive, my ambition, my joy, my pride, and they give the greatest meaning and purpose.  God wrapped up a gift in each of them.  I get to belong to them and them to me.  My precious gift.

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The Gift of a Year

In continuation with "The Gift" theme, focusing on the priceless gifts of life, I wanted to take a moment to share our annual Christmas letter with you.  The first Christmas letter we sent out was for our very first Christmas in 1999.

My sis-in-law, Nicki and I were discussing how much we enjoy reading others Christmas letters and how we pray that we always have something to write about.  Writing at the end of the year provides a moment to reflect back on the joys and fulfillment God blessed our family with; the gifts contained in each year.

Thank you for allowing me to share it with you!

From my heart to yours, Merry Christmas!

“Another year has gone by…..”

Those are the lyrics to a beautiful Christmas song that so accurately describes the sentiment of the season.  Every year seems to pass with increasing speed, and although we’re having tons of fun, there’s a somber emotion for how quickly this treasured time is passing.  As in Moses’ prayer, “Teach us to realize the brevity of life, so that we may grow in wisdom.” Psalm 90:12 NLT—our take away is to simply soak it up, each and every moment.  And no season emphasizes those special moments greater than the one that celebrates The One.

Embracing the present, and in anticipation of what 2014 has in store, we reflect back over the precious time we shared in 2013.  Our great gift is that of our family, friends and co-workers with whom we shared many memorable moments.

One of those times was this past February when we lost my Grandpa, whom the kids called Papa Cecil.  He passed away two days after his 91^st birthday.  It was a privilege to have him living so close these last few years, giving the kids a unique opportunity to truly know their great grandpa.  He was my last living grandparent, and I can only hope to inherit such longevity coupled with his strong sense of independence.

The summer months brought intense heat and delightful use of our new splash pad.  Adding a pool to our backyard was such a blessing.  We enjoyed parties and get-togethers with family, church family, neighbors, family friends, school friends and work friends.  We hope for many, many more, in the years to come!

Our year included a most joyful event, the birth of our nephew Charles Allen Barr on August 17^th.  Going by the adorable name, Charlie, this is Aunt Nicki and Uncle Brandon’s first baby.  The distance between Tulsa and Chicago stretched our patience as we had to wait until October to see him and love on him for the very first time. Although we wish we were closer to see him often, we’re cherishing those special times we do get to spend with him and his mama and daddy, especially his 1^st Christmas!

October rolled around and we took advantage of the kids’ school fall break.  We took them out of school for an extra two days and headed south to sunny Orlando.  We spent a day at Universal Studios, then cruised with Disney on a four night Bahamian cruise stopping in Nassau and Disney’s private island, Castaway Cay (pronounced Key), came back to land with a day’s visit to Kennedy Space Center and then concluded the trip back in Orlando with a day at Sea World.  We came home on empty, but with a “boat load” of treasured memories—pun intended. ;-)

Some of the highlights are featured on the back of our Christmas card. As you’ll see, we took Grandma along for the fun.  What a delight for all of us to get to share our very first cruise together.  However, it seems that Grandma was most excited of all since she had wanted to go on a cruise for the last 37 years.  It was quite the treat to get to share that highly anticipated trip with her.

The kids are all trucking along with activities and interests of their own.  Brooklyn turned 12 March 4^th.  She participated in two horse camps this summer and eagerly awaits the day when she has one in her own pasture.  She started 7^th grade this Fall participating in Cross Country for the first time.  She shaved three minutes off her time from her first to her last meet!  She is playing trumpet in band and still taking piano on the side.  Her most joyous occasion for the year was getting her braces off in November.  Her smile is gorgeous- it beams from the inside out!

Jaron is quickly approaching his 10^th birthday, coming up December 23^rd.  He had a big moment this past spring when he was chosen as his school’s Student of the Month.  He was treated to lunch with his principal, received special recognition in a school assembly, had his name on the school marque and in the town paper, and received a framed award.  We couldn’t have been more honored if the award would’ve had our own name on it!  We experienced inexpressible pride in his achievement.  We feel the same when he sits down to play piano or when he steps on the basketball court, baseball field and soccer field.  He’s quite the athlete.

Caden is following in big brother’s footsteps.  He has a “ball” every time he steps out to play any game.  Caden brings such joy to whatever he’s doing; basketball, baseball, soccer.  He is a true representation of what it is to have a good time.  Caden turned 7 on the first day of first grade, August 15^th.  His teacher made it a very special day with singing, prizes and even some birthday spankings!  We took cupcakes and candles and celebrated a big boy in a big way!

Gavin turned 4 on July 13^th and it’s wonderful to report that he has indeed finally found his friendly box.  Our shy and abrasive personality child has warmed up into a sweet, sometimes even conversationalist individual.  We loved watching him on the cruise greet and visit with the cast members and other passengers.  He is back at WEE two days a week for preschool and we are anticipating a full time Pre-K program next year for our second boy with the summer birthday.  It’s comforting sending him off as an older student, rather than as the baby of the class; an importantly sensitive category to avoid for the baby of the family who is determined to be big.

Brandon and I are trucking along with the kids’ schedules, oh, and we work too!  Did I hear an, “amen” from those of you in the same season of life?  Brandon passed his 1year anniversary with Quanta Services in August and I marked my 1year in the NICU at Saint Francis in July.  We are both so grateful that we get to do what we love.  We never want to overlook that huge blessing!

Another blessing has been the response to an unanticipated calling and vision for ministry, and that is the one at heathersblessedjourney.com.  The Lord has been faithful to provide for the material and open more speaking opportunities through that door.  But here is the challenge He has placed on my heart; to humbly ask for your support to grow this endeavor.  It would be a blessing and honor to have you share Heather’s Blessed JouRNey with your family, friends, small groups and coworkers and prayerfully consider me as a speaker for any special events or services the Lord may direct in that way.  These are steps of obedience as I don’t know the entire plan, but I know Who does.  And we’re taking it at that, one step at a time, seeking Him with every one.

In this inspiring time of year, may we consider one of our most precious gifts, our time.  It’s a commodity that is spent and can never be regained; nevertheless is always invested.  May we be intentional to invest our time into the priceless value of others; our children, our spouse, our families, friends, coworkers, and community.  Christ came to invest His all for each of us who are priceless to Him.

Love and Feel Loved,

Brandon, Heather,

Brooklyn, Jaron, Caden, & Gavin Meadows

and Daisy Mae too!

http://www.marchforbabies.org/meadows99 please help us in our efforts to improve the health of babies by reaching our $500 goal for the Spring 2014 March of Dimes Walk

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The Gift of Friendship

Do you remember the age when you’d get home from school, after being with your friends the entire day, and call them to talk on the phone?  The scene is different today with social media availability and texting options, but connecting with friends is still very important to young people.  And to old.  Friendship is a relationship that spans most of our lifetime, all across the ages. I remember my first school friend.  I was about four years old.  It’s funny I can’t remember what she looked like.  Only that she had long dark hair.  But I remember how much fun I had at Undercroft Montossori with Ashley Parker.  I don’t believe I ever referred to her by first name only.  When I spoke of my school friend it was always, Ashley Parker.  Something about her name must have been fascinating to me at that age.  (Or I was merely attempting to be grown up by sharing the fact that I knew her whole name!)  Then there was my friend, Cheryl whose house I had my first sleepover.  Our parents were friends, thus me being allowed to stay all night at a very young age.  She was a bit older than me and I felt so big in the time we spent together.

Those are my earliest memories of friendship.  And in my reflections, I realize how richly blessed my life has been with the gift of friendship.  I am reminded of that this time of year receiving cards, letters and attending gatherings with people I am so grateful to call “friend.”  Considering that this time in my life doesn’t allow for many opportunities to hang out with friends, the times we do spend together are truly cherished.

One friendship that has proven the test of time, and lack of time spent together, is the one I have with my best friend Amber.  We met, nearly twenty years ago in the eighth grade.  No doubt our friendship was established out of the mere convenience of going to school and church together; regardless, we had a connection.  And all I can really say is the old adage, “opposites attract.”

Amber and I were quite the opposite.  She was incredibly athletic.  I was not, in the least.  I loved to be up in front of people, singing or speaking.  She was quiet and more comfortable in the audience.  She was eager to experience the different facets of life.  I was happy to live within the lines.

We were always somewhat different.  But we had a bond.  And throughout the many different chapters of our lives, we have sustained that special bond.  It’s not a matter of convenience.  It’s not a matter of special interests.  It’s a matter of experience.  We have experienced life together and despite the changes, one thing remains, our friendship.

I haven’t seen my best friend in nine months, but I know when I do, we’ll soak up and enjoy every moment we have, because those moments aren’t available like they use to be.  Long gone are the days of chatting on the phone whenever we wanted.  Now we play phone tag and try to catch each other for chats during commutes in the car.  We give thanks for the memories we have and for the time we aim to get now. Amber says we should go on cruises together when we’re old and retired, and I bet we will because one thing is certain….we’ll still be friends.

Friendship may look a little different in this season of life, relishing the time with our children, running errands, balancing schedules, managing our homes and commitments to our careers.  But it is the security found in Proverbs 17:17 that makes us realize what a gift we have in our friends.

A friend loves at all times, and a brother is born for a time of adversity. (NIV)

May your life continue to be enriched with the wonderful love of a friend.

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