OUCH

We’re all familiar with the numeric pain assessment scale. How many times have you been asked the question, “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?” My Aunt Donna has been asked the question several times over the last week in recovering from her second knee replacement for the year.  My favorite illustration of this process is when Baymax assesses Hiro in this clip from Disney’s Big Hero 6. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uEeBXUUOBiI

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

The answer is not as easy to obtain when dealing with children. In those instances, the FLACC scale may be used to determine the level of pain. There is also the FACES pain scale used to help children identify their pain.  I remember as a child it was a challenge being asked many times over not only to rate my pain but also to describe my pain. It’s a difficult thing for children to be able to articulate the source of their pain and the intensity of it.

We can understand that though, can't we?  Is it much different with all people? Not really. We’re proficient in expressing our physical pain, but those emotional wounds are another story. Wouldn’t it be nice to point to a face to indicate our emotional anguish or just slap a Band-Aid on those hurts until they heal?

Makes me think of Caden around four and five years old. Even the slightest of injuries warranted a Band Aid. And when I say “slightest of injuries,” I’m leaning heavily on the slightest end, referring to the most minor abrasion. Yes, that’s the delicate way of saying he wanted a Band Aid even for scratches. You know nurses, we assess the need, which only qualifies if there is an inclusion of blood, and many times over I assessed that Caden didn’t need a Band Aid. However, it didn’t take long to realize that he wasn’t like his big sister and big brother; he couldn’t be reasoned with about his injury. Forget the need, if Caden wanted a Band Aid, we weren’t moving on until Caden had a Band Aid. Soon I reveled in the simplicity of it. “Just slap a Band Aid on there and it’ll all be fine.” Oh if that were only the case in life.

In the NICU we utilize NPASS to assess pain in neonates. Babies can’t tell us how they are feeling, so we gather information in regards to their crying and irritability, their behavior, their facial expression, the tone of their extremities and their vital signs to assess their level of pain. These indicators help us meet their need. Sound familiar?

How often do we see people hurting who won't verbalize they are hurting? Let’s go even closer to home. How many times are you hurting and you never tell anyone your level of pain? Or here’s one more that might need a Band Aid after I put it out there. How many times has someone let you know of their pain and you only made the hurt deeper?

The last two weekends I have had the opportunity to take part in some very special retreats to speak into the lives of some very special women. I pray much hope, healing and love was received from our time together.

Of those retreats, one was based on the book Captivating by Stasi Eldredge. I was one of six speakers who poured our lives out to those in attendance. The point of it all is that we are all wounded. Recognizing those wounds make us cognizant to the enemy’s methods of attack. The defeated foe wants to use our pain to render us ineffective for the Lord.

This retreat was a time women were speaking to women to heal wounds. Unfortunately, far too often women speaking to women can intensify the wound.

How?

Well, with the same things that bring healing can also bring hurt.

Wisdom and Words.

In James 3:13-18 we learn there are TWO kinds of wisdom.

1. earthly, unspiritual demonic
2. from above

Proverbs 18:20 we learn there are TWO kinds of words.

1. Death
2. Life

When someone trusts us enough to invite us into their wound, when they trust us enough to indicate their level of pain, let us be careful to use wisdom from above that, “is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere;” and let us be careful with our words that they may speak life.

James 3:13-18 ESV  --  Who is wise and understanding among you? By his good conduct let him show his works in the meekness of wisdom. But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth. This is not the wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic. For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice. But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere. And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.

Proverbs 18:21 ESV  -- Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits.

Toby Mac says it well in Speak Life, “We can turn a heart with the words we say. Mountains crumble with every syllable. Hope can live or die”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZeBv9r92VQ0

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZeBv9r92VQ0

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Vacations You Never Outgrow

I remember when my kids were little, well, Gavin is still a bit little, but I’m remembering back to the three to four year-old stage when their likes and dislikes started changing like the Oklahoma weather. We’d be at a party or gathering and the parents would hop in line to make the kids plates first. In the event that it wasn’t self-serve, I’d get the question, “Heather, what would your kids like?” It was a spotlight on the moment for me to expose, “I have no idea.” One day they’d like baked beans, and on another baked beans would make them gag. It would be ketchup and mustard on the hot dog, and at the turn of a hat, they couldn’t eat it if it had ketchup. And that’s just a cookout. I can’t even start on holidays. My kids aren’t the only unpredictable ones. When my husband and I married he wouldn’t eat tomatoes, or mushrooms, and he made fun of me for my medium rare steaks. The latter ended the day I sat across from him at a restaurant, pointed my steak knife at him and said, “One more word Brandon Meadows and you will have to take a bite. So either be quiet and let me be, or try it.” I can’t pinpoint the transformation, but all the steaks are coming off the grill medium rare in our home these days. However, that’s not the only change he made. He now eats all the aforementioned, and has even added some textures to his food repertoire I would have not thought possible, like squid and sushi.

The fact is, as we grow, we change. Brandon and I were eighteen years old when we married. Our palate isn’t the only thing that’s evolved and matured. The course for our children isn’t any different. It’s a bigger picture than proclaiming their disdain for dishes. It’s an illustration of their journey. They want to make a stand for who they are, for who they want to be, for their strive toward individuality, and sometimes that’s as simple as a food preference.

If you’ve seen Disney’s Inside Out you know exactly what I’m talking about. Those islands built as children crumble allowing for them to rebuild, losing some but gaining more. Not too long ago someone looked in my eyes with such depths of pity and said, “Heather, you don’t know your daughter.” I can’t tell you how true that statement is. And I’m totally okay with it because you know what, my daughter doesn’t even know herself. None of my kids do. They are all on a journey. Furthermore, they’re not going to find themselves as many like to imply. No, there’s not a box with their true-self waiting to be opened. Instead, they determine who they want to be from their experiences and choices on this journey of life. And the only One who has them all figured out is the One who made them. This is why we disciple them and direct them toward God and His Word. As they grow to know Him more, they’ll find who He designed them to be.

In the process, we focus on the things the Lord has blessed and used to consistently bring our family together; like our Friday night movies, summer Sunday afternoons in the pool, the annual tradition of cutting down our Christmas tree, and of course, our Disney vacations.

Disney is advertising it as “Vacations You Never Outgrow.” Let me tell you, when I saw it spread out across the Disney transportation bus, I nearly cried. “Seriously?” you may think. Yes. Seriously. No matter what the year holds, Disney destinations are a place we come together, focus on one another, play and make memories.

Memories were definitely in the making this year when we approached the Tower of Terror in Disney’s Hollywood Studios. Brooklyn was on the brink of interrogation as to who reserved that FastPass. Side Note: It wasn't me ;-) Nevertheless, onward we marched toward the experience. Well, have you ever heard people bond through experiences? I believe it. As terrifying as it so accurately suggests, it’s an experience we were all able to share together, and one we’ll talk about for much time to come. But quite possibly may never do again.

The seasons have changed in our Disney days. I was reminded of it in the ladies restroom. I stood at the sink washing my hands as a mom to my right was tending to her baby in the stroller. We exchanged a few words, common for Disney guests. The exhausted mother informed how much exertion it requires with a baby. I expressed understanding having taken Brooklyn for her first trip before she was two, Jaron for his first at ten months, Caden for his first at eight weeks old, and Gavin for his first at five months old. I offered encouragement to her that the work is so worth the memories. There’s nothing like Snow White’s kiss on your baby boy’s forehead. Or your little girl spinning her dress around with Belle. While those stages have passed, we’re in a new stage, free of stroller parking and diaper bags. We’re all together riding rides that make us hoot and holler, and in the case of the Tower of Terror, cry like babies. But we’re doing it together. And for a family of six, where everyone changes like the weather, and some are not completely sure who they are, we’re so grateful for vacations they never outgrow.

If you’re in our same boat, here’s some solid foundation to speak into your wishy washy ones –

“Yes, I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who remain in me, and I in them, will produce much fruit. For apart from me you can do nothing.” John 15:5 NLT

You make known to me the path of life; in Your presence there is fullness of joy; at Your right hand are pleasures forevermore. Psalm 16:11 ESV

The path of the righteous is level; You make level the way of the righteous. Isaiah 26:7 ESV

we're the first two rows on the right if you want to view all our craziness ;-)

[wpvideo ThgiZGK9]

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Share Your Story

I feel like I need to introduce myself. Hi. I’m Heather Meadows, the absentee blog writer. I can’t believe it’s been fifteen days since our last post.

Now would be a good time to thank you for your continued support and welcome the new subscribers. During this downtime I did a little more than get in some fabulous vacation time with the family, I also got in some fabulous opportunities to share my story with such wonderful groups of people.

I continually say there’s power in our stories. If I didn’t believe it, I wouldn’t be shaking up my predictable life with the forecast of unpredictability common for every speaker. Who knows what the next few months will look like? It truly is putting one step in front of the other being available to the Lord as He opens doors.  It’s all about being where He wants us to be when He wants us to be there. Sometimes that doesn’t make a lot of sense when you try to put paper and pencil to it. But my God is much bigger than paper and pencil plans, so I’m going where He leads regardless if I see the whole picture or not.

So back to the power of our stories. The last thirteen years has provided a variety of experiences to speak into diverse groups. Maybe it’s because the opportunities were here and there, or maybe it’s because I’m in a different place with such vision and intention, but I’m receiving something I never anticipated out of these commitments—and it’s your stories.

I take in the faces of those in an audience. Typically they start out with a polite and welcoming look. At points they have such depths of compassion. Sometimes I observe surprise in their eyes as I share things maybe they didn’t assume, because you know we sum each other up whether we intend to or not, and sometimes we’re surprised by information we wouldn’t have thought based on our impression. Reminds me of the nursing student who shadowed me recently. She looked so young and hip, so vibrant and fresh. I was stunned when she answered my question, “So do you have children?” I totally didn’t expect her to say, “Eight.” And no, no blended family. No his, hers and ours. She and her husband felt it was God’s will for them to have a large family, so they did. And she, having double the amount of children I have, appeared far more together than what I give myself credit for; therefore, I assumed she may have not had any. Oh what surprise! The same look of surprise I commonly observe in those opportunities I’m given to publicly share my own story.

Then there’s the melting. When I expose what’s beneath my image, I watch others let their own melt away. As it does, those walls we so naturally walk around with protecting our disappointments, our hurt, our painful memories, our tragedies and losses seem to come down. Being vulnerable with my audiences provides the opportunity for them to be vulnerable with me. It’s communicating, “See how damaged I’ve been, on the inside as well as the outside. See how God can take something so broken and put it back better than it could have been before. You’re safe to think what you think and feel how you feel. And you’re safe to believe it can be more.” What moves me to tears is the thought that those who desire to speak with me at the end of an event do so because something I shared connected within them and they want to share a piece of their self with me, those pieces we typically keep so poised and polished. What a privilege to see people so personally.

Above all the expressions I see, one element fuels me to continue on bearing all for God’s glory. The testimonies. Testimonies inspire people to believe and trust God for His mighty works in their life. How blessed I feel to hear so many. It’s like I carry along a treasure chest collecting encouragement from those who take a moment to share what God has done in their life with me. Your testimonies fan the flame inside me knowing how important it is to press on down this path wherever He may lead.

What He has called me to as a nurse, as a writer, as a speaker makes me so aware of His presence, everywhere. Whether I’m wearing scrubs for the day, standing with a mic in my hand, or sitting at this computer writing, receiving your stories in return touches me and makes me so deeply grateful the Lord called me to simply share of myself.

O Lord, you are my God;

    I will exalt you; I will praise your name,

for you have done wonderful things,

    plans formed of old, faithful and sure. Isaiah 25:1 ESV

Share your story with us-- comment below to tell others of such wonderful things.  And remember, we're always grateful for those private messages too.

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Please be in prayer with us for:

November 6th, 7th & 8th Hearts in Full Bloom Retreat in Tulakogee

November 13th & 14th Exciting Southeast Baptist Women's Retreat in Pryor

We invite you to watch the following video and share with your friends. Copy and paste the URL https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZP-3u3RONI8 or search “Heather Meadows Story” on YouTube

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZP-3u3RONI8

Water Damage

Around our home there is a light-hearted joke that the laundry room is my favorite room in the house. Seems to be a place I am frequently located. Brooklyn still gets a kick out of telling the time I asked her to set the table saying, “We’re eating in the laundry room tonight.” She repeated it back to me in question, with emphasis as given, “We’re eating in the laundry room?” I realized what I had said and corrected, “the dining room, the dining room, we are eating in the dining room tonight.” The girl still gets a good laugh each time she recalls it. I’m so grateful my mode of an overloaded brain brings such joy to the home when it can. Like my brain, which overflows at times with more information than my mouth can accurately articulate, my washing machine did something similar, malfunctioning, releasing all of its water onto the floor. Of course, we were not home when this occurred, [as I’m a big fan of setting the delay button to have the load ready for the dryer when we return], but it was quite evident the moment we arrived, because the laundry room is one of the first rooms we see when walking in the door.

For those who remember some of the posts composed from this past summer’s events and the storms I mentioned in Meadows in Massachusetts, Nurse's Cry, Deflated, and Crummy Mom, you won’t be surprised at all to know that of course, the washer malfunctioned around the same time. Didn’t seem like too big of a deal then. We cleaned up all the water and started toting laundry down to my Mom’s during the interim of having the washer replaced. Let me say, I’ve never been so grateful to have purchased an extended warranty. We had only had the washer fourteen months. We don’t typically go for extended warranties, but as much as we use our washer and as much as a service technician charges, we figured it was worth our while. Evidently, it was.

Unfortunate bummer inconvenience, but simple fix, right? We thought so. That is until our wood floors buckled.

Apparently the water released from the washer that day ran under the laundry room wall which backs up to our dining room and kitchen, flowed completely through the kitchen even reaching into the living room! It was incredible and unbelievable at the same time. Who would’ve thought it could flow that far and who would’ve thought it could cause so much damage?

Disappointingly, this incident marks a first for Brandon and me…our first homeowner’s claim. We’re counting our blessing that in the sixteen years we’ve been married, this is our first, but you people who carry higher deductibles feel our pain. It’s not a fund you plan to dip into, nevertheless, are so grateful it’s there. Occurrences like these emphasize the importance of those annual budget meetings for sure.

Thursday was another first. Movers came to pack up our entire downstairs. Since the wood has to be replaced, it has to be refinished; therefore, so do all the rooms. We’ve never had movers before. I kept trying to help and they were so polite, “It’s okay, we’ll get it Ma’am.” I won’t chase the squirrel of being called “Ma’am.” It’s such a courteous reference, and I receive it as such, I just still feel a bit young for the name, so I’d encourage them, “Oh, please just call me ‘Heather.’” Regardless, I was in the way and needed to let the nice men do their job, so I met my Mom for breakfast.

I continued to run errands for the day and returned home to the demolition in full swing.

I got out the vacuum and started cleaning up what I could. We’re living in the house for the first week of the project, sleeping in Caden’s room; watching TV, folding laundry and working on the computer in Brooklyn’s room; and using our good ole laundry room for coffee, making sandwiches, washing dishes, feeding the dogs, oh yes, and for laundry too. Jaron and Gavin are packed in as well, storing some of our downstairs items in their rooms. Therefore, the floors needed to be relatively clean for our continued stay in the house.

While cleaning up a bit, my mind pondered that question, “Who would’ve thought it could flow that far and who would’ve thought it could cause so much damage?”

My heart became stirred thinking of our words. Thinking about the damage the flow of the water caused, illustrates the damage caused when we allow our words to flow. Like the washing machine releasing the water, sometimes we release our words without first taking into account what it may damage.

Proverbs 11:9 NLT

With their words, the godless destroy their friends, but knowledge will rescue the righteous.

“With their words…” And we’ve all seen it happen. Words can destroy.

Our wood floors and sub-flooring have been removed and we are hanging out in our home without starting any work to replace them for several days. Why? Because the concrete, our home’s foundation, has to have time to dry. Otherwise, we’d be laying new floor over a moist surface providing for substandard results.

Unfortunately, many of you are feeling exactly what I’m talking about. You’ve been wounded by words. Someone felt their opinion was of so much value that they were going to speak it whether it was right, whether it was helpful, and regardless if it was hurtful. Let me share some encouragement with you, The Word says “but knowledge will rescue the righteous.” After you rip out the warped wood, while you’re allowing your foundation to dry, go back to what God’s Word says, and stand firm in who you are in Him.

Perhaps you’re the washing machine. Perhaps you released a flow of words and have seen the damage it’s caused. You know, the beautiful thing about our relationship with the Lord is He knows all so well how human we are and how, despite our progress to grow and mature spiritually, sometimes we find ourselves walking in the flesh. So what do we do? Philippians 2:3-4 “Don’t be selfish; don’t try to impress others. Be humble, thinking of others as better than yourselves. Don’t look out only for your own interests, but take an interest in others, too.” Lay out your motives before the Lord. Allow Him to search your heart. Forsake pride and humble yourself for the interest of the one you hurt. It’s not for the weak, because you may be rejected, but it will honor God because it’s all about your heart.

Maybe there isn’t any water damage in your life right now. Maybe there haven’t been any words spoken or received in a destructive manner.

First of all, take just a moment and say, “Thank you, Jesus for the peace I have in my relationships. I ask that you wrap your protection around each individual I love and guard our hearts that we may not hurt one another, but continue to love one another as You love us. Unconditionally, faithfully, and genuinely.”

Secondly, take a moment to soak in some of what Proverbs teaches us about our words. You may have heard people say they read a Proverb a day. Since there are 30 to 31 days in a month, and there are 31 Proverbs, it is a great benefit receiving of the wisdom found there daily.

When using our words, choose which side of the Proverb you will stand.

Proverbs 10:11

The words of the godly are a life-giving fountain; the words of the wicked conceal violent intentions.

Proverbs 10:21

The words of the godly encourage many, but fools are destroyed by their lack of common sense.

Proverbs 10:32

The lips of the godly speak helpful words, but the mouth of the wicked speaks perverse words.

Proverbs 12:18

Some people make cutting remarks, but the words of the wise bring healing.

Proverbs 15:28

The heart of the godly thinks carefully before speaking; the mouth of the wicked overflows with evil words.

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 Congratulations to our subscriber, Kayla whose name was drawn for the Love Does book giveaway on October 1st

Got to personally deliver the book to her and felt it appropriate to give balloons when giving Bob Goff's book :-)

Crummy Mom

We had barely departed the experience, the fruition of obedience to God’s calling, when the clouds started rolling, the thunder started rumbling, the lightning hit and the rain poured. Our drive into Boston should have been one of elation and rejoicing, however, we quickly ran into a storm, a storm that started brewing long before we began our trip. No, I’m not speaking of a literal storm. I’m speaking figuratively. I wish we could have pulled under a bridge and wait for it to pass by. I wish we could have stepped into a closet and hid from the winds. Or even better, I wish we could have locked ourselves in our safe room and shut it out entirely. But we all know the storms of life are endured, not avoided. I read several years ago that trees send their roots down deeper due to the storms they withstand. No storms mean a shallow root system. Now I’m no arborist, but I get the illustration, and I don’t want to be shallow or weak, I want to go down deep and be strong. Nevertheless, the storms are unpleasant, unpeaceful, and at times, down right scary.

The storm’s intensity grew when I broke, exposing the darkness that surrounded us. I felt safe, I felt secure, and even more than that, I felt desperate for help. I literally broke, crying uncontrollably and sharing not only my defeat, but pronouncing my shortcomings.

For someone who lives as an open book, it’s imprisoning to hold in my burdens, to retain my brokenness. Burying and hiding are not natural for me. It takes effort. It takes determination. And while I see that sometimes it is necessary, it feels phony. We need a safety net when we are falling. Unfortunately, with the people I would have not wanted to have boundaries with, I should have had boundaries. The integrity and character of our home came under fire. And isn’t that the way the enemy attacks? So sly and creepy, using one attack to generate another.

The point is, if we lay everything out on the table, we’re providing the revelation of our failures. We all have them, and we provide for many more failures when we become parents. If you haven’t failed your children yet, wait, because you will.

You’re probably thinking something like, “Great. So glad I’m reading this today. Nothing like having someone tell me I’m going to fail at the most important role I will ever have!” Or you may be tempted to minimize those failures as you reflect back on your days of raising children. Pause with me please, and join me in asking the Lord to humble us and remove a pride He cannot honor.

Let’s remind ourselves that we all fall short. We are parenting in our humanity. And our humanity is fallen.   John and Stasi Eldredge inform us in their book Captivating, “But Adam fell, as did Eve, and the fathers and mothers most of us had continued the sad story. They did not provide the things our hearts needed in order to become lovely, vulnerable, strong, adventurous women.”

Honestly, it’s a thought that never crossed my mind when I was welcoming my precious children into the world. “I’m going to fail this perfect little person. I’m going to wound their heart.”

I was prepared to give away my heart, but not to wound theirs. Big chunks were removed with every baby born. Jaron’s birth brought about our first NICU experience. The team whisked him away from me on the eve of Christmas Eve. I was discharged the next day and felt my heart in two places, neither of which was inside my chest. I was torn to be home with my sweet little girl and to be with my new precious and sick baby boy. It was just the beginning, just the beginning of my heart existing outside my body no longer secure and protected within myself.

“You cannot be alive very long without being wounded,” the Eldredges write. “Broken hearts cannot long be avoided in this beautiful yet dangerous world we live in.” “This is not Eden. Not even close. We are not living in the world our souls were made for.”

As I was caring for my own Mom recovering from an orthopedic surgery this summer, I gave her medication to manage her pain. Some are big pills, hard to swallow. And some of these words are hard to swallow, but can manage the pain of our wounded hearts. Through her own journey, Stasi Eldredge writes, “Yes, she [her mother] failed me. All mothers fail their children to varying degrees. But she also loved me. That was what was most true.”

Every wave and bump, even the wash outs and pot holes, messages are sent, imperfections are highlighted and wounds are created. We hurt our children and our children hurt us. Ephesians 6:12 tells us where the battle comes from, “For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.”

And as mothers, we battle. In our flesh, in our humanity, in our fallen, imperfect state, we battle.

“Women are called to join in the Greatest Battle of all time- the battle being waged for the hearts of those around us.” -Captivated

As long as I’m breathing I will go to battle for my children to have God’s best in their life. It is raw, it is real, and it is humbling to recognize our imperfections, and to encourage our children to take what we’ve given them as parents and to be better, to make improvements and be better parents for their children. No blame, no bitterness, but better. Humbling ourselves in believing and battling for God’s best.

So why would I write a post to share about being a crummy mom? Because at times, you feel crummy too. In those times, in those dark moments, and in those attacks, don’t allow the enemy to defeat you, even if he’s using people you love in the attack. Filter through. Sift it out before the Lord. Only He truly knows your heart.

I’m walking in steps of obedience to God’s calling. There is no attack that could possibly stop me than one upon my family, one upon my home. So here it is. The storm. Here I am. Not giving up. Battling the attack, because I know God will prevail. His Plan will succeed. Good will come, a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up (Galatians 6:9).

Through this storm I praise Him and I pray He uses it to encourage you.

“But we don’t wait to offer our lives until we have our acts together. We don’t get that luxury. If we did, would anyone ever feel like offering anything? God asks us to be vulnerable. He invites us to share and give in our weaknesses. He wants us to offer the beauty that He has given us even when we are keenly aware that it is not all that we wish it were. He wants us to trust him.”- Captivating

Psalm 34:5

Those who look to Him are radiant, and their faces shall never be ashamed.

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We’re having a GIVE AWAY for Subscribers— Love Does by Bob Goff will go to the subscriber’s name drawn on October 1st

Have you ever struggled with the feeling of not being good enough?  Has someone taken a highlighter to your shortcomings or magnified your failures?

God's design for women includes a longing for intimacy and adventure with Him, to gain an understanding of how He sees each of us, and to develop a closer relationship with Him.

Please join me, along with the women of my community as we rediscover the joy of belonging to God with a heart that is awakened and restored… a heart in full bloom.

Throughout the weekend you will experience teaching sessions, including testimonies, films, guided periods of personal reflection and worship.

This weekend is based on the book Captivating by John and Stasi Eldredge

Scope-a-steth

Yesterday my newsfeed was filled with heart-touching National Neonatal Nurse’s Day posts. I was even tagged in some specific posts from some special little NICU grad families I had the privilege to care for. For certain, a sense of pride came over me, as I feel blessed to be counted amongst some amazing professionals in the field of neonatal nursing. Honestly, I never thought I’d be a nurse. I remember people asking me if I wanted to be a doctor or nurse when grew up. But I didn’t. I had had my fill of hospitals and doctor’s offices. I pictured my future in a different setting than the one I grew up with.

Obviously, something changed, because here I am today, a nurse. And I couldn’t be more proud to wear the title.

The more I grew, the more I realized that trying to separate my life from healthcare, was to separate myself from who I am.   I am a long-term patient, with much experience in the role, which is perhaps, one of the greatest assets to being a nurse.

My doctors have been phenomenal. From Dr. George Cohlmia who repaired the transection to my descending aorta, to Dr. Hans Norberg, Dr. Paul Park, and Dr. Ed Kramer who cared for me during my many days in the burn center. Then to Dr. Robert Kirk who made necessary adjustments to my changing body, to now, Dr. Mark Mathers, who just last week held my husband and my hands leading us in prayer before surgery. My life has been saved and significantly improved by the work of amazing physicians.

So what drew me to nursing?

Well, God called me to nursing and He brought to mind all the nurses who impacted my life through those critical times, medically and emotionally speaking. Like Lois, my nurse, who was the only one able to understand my efforts to communicate each time I was intubated on mechanical ventilation. Like my nurse Vicki who identified a problem from the first chest x-ray obtained after my injury. Like my nurse Kelly, who made me feel calm in times I was scared. Like my nurse Ken who made the necessary tank room visits for bandage changes a little bit fun and somewhat amusing. Like my nurse Carolyn who sat at my bedside in the dark of night showing me photos of her puppies in efforts to comfort me after my bad dreams.

I could dedicate a blog post just to them, but I think Miss Colorado, Kelly Johnson expressed it quite accurately in her monologue for the Miss America competition this past Sunday night.  They weren't just nurses; they were lifesavers!

I can’t remember the last time I watched the Miss America pageant, but I was lying around recovering from a recent surgery and took the opportunity. Of course my curiosity was raised when I saw her in scrubs while the others were decked out in formal wear. Still, I loved her talent portion. Instead of trying to fit into the standard song and dance routines we typically see in pageants, she demonstrated first of all, courage to do something different, and conviction to share her passion.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HSe_rgVbRGo

Am I surprised that this beautiful, and yes, talented young lady, was the target of ridicule? Unfortunately, I’m not. It seems that anyone who steps out to do anything makes themself a target. Each of those girls, in their pursuit of success, became an object of ridicule to the multitude of critics. No tears shed for them though, because they’re the type that will continually rise above it and press on to do great things.

What I am surprised at, however, is the comment made from a commentator on a network talk show. No, I don’t watch The View. I remember when it first started airing, my Grandma, in her most annoyed tone, would say, “How can you even hear what’s being said with all of them talking at the same time?” Nevertheless, nurses heard loud and clear the perplexity as to why Miss Colorado, being a nurse, was even wearing what was described as a “doctor’s” stethoscope.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WNQW9l5_2y4

And here is one of the reasons I, nor my Grandma, were ever fans of the show. Who doesn’t know nurses use stethoscopes?

I realize some time was given for the ladies to address the subject on the show. While it didn’t sound like much of an apology, the issue was acknowledged.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YvU7-2QuMco

I love what came out of the whole ordeal, all the posts from nurses showing their stethoscopes and highlighting the talent to use them. Yes, Miss Colorado has talent. More than that—she has heart! And you can’t find many with a heart bigger than a nurse!

I hope many more people hear the message Miss Colorado, Kelly Johnson had to share; seeing patients for people, valuing nurses as lifesavers. And I hope we can even gain a lesson from The View, the importance of thinking before speaking.  Because, yes, we were listening.

Many thanks to the individuals dedicated to this nursing profession being used in touching countless lives.

Many thanks to B-Dub for teaching nursing students that you need a nurse to save your life. 

Last but not least, many thanks to the nephew of my nursing school classmate who called a stethoscope and scope-a-steth.  Seems fitting for this discussion.

Way to go, ANA!  see People's Article at http://www.people.com/article/joy-behar-blasted-american-nurses-association-mocking-miss-america-nurse

May we all be challenged in His Word. Proverbs 10:19-21 NLT

Too much talk leads to sin. Be sensible and keep your mouth shut. The words of the godly are like sterling silver; the heart of a fool is worthless. The words of the godly encourage many, but fools are destroyed by their lack of common sense.

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Deflated

*please note: this post is from the heart of a woman, for a woman—may the men not be uncomfortable, but gain deeper understanding, value and appreciation for issues women confront and overcome.  additionally, may each reader see what it means to be a burn survivor, still now, over twenty-seven years later. All my life I’ve listened to comments about how wonderful boobs are.

My problem is, I don’t have any. I never have.

They would have been nice to have when all my friends were growing their own set. You know, to at least have some clue to what they were experiencing. They would have been nice to pull out on my wedding night. From what I understand, it’s a pretty exciting component. And for certain, they would have been beneficial to have had when my children were born.

I’ve lived hearing about boobs, seeing paintings and sculptures of boobs, commercials about bras supporting boobs, reading scriptures about boobs, and helping NICU moms use their boobs for their babies.

So how does a woman feel like a woman without them? Without having ever had them? What does femininity mean to a woman who never experienced an obvious development of becoming a woman?

They’re not questions you would necessarily ask a thirteen year-old, or a sixteen year-old or a twenty year-old. They probably wouldn’t be able to answer them. These are deep questions, difficult for me to confront still, at thirty-four. But ones I’ve spent a lifetime attempting to answer—for myself.

These are questions I’ve brought to the Lord numerous times through my life, and many times again just in the last few weeks.

They do say when it rains it pours. Honestly, it’s all a matter of perception and experience. My family and I have endured the rain. I’ve witnessed others withstand heartbreaking circumstances. Therefore, when things feel like they’re falling apart, I cope from the reality that things could always be much worse.

But an attack is an attack. We have to see it for what it is to know how to battle it. At a time when we in our home were experiencing a storm, a time when our vulnerability to share it caused our character and integrity to come under fire, a time when my Mom was recuperating from a fractured wrist and my Aunt from knee replacement, I noticed a subtle change in my body.

Let me say, when we’re broken, we don’t know if what we’re seeing really is what is.

I was feeling weak, discouraged, and heavy-laden. During my shower, I thought, “My left implant seems smaller.” But I hoped my perception was affected by my state-of-mind. You know. I hoped I was just seeing things.

Over the next few days it became pretty obvious I wasn’t. My left implant had ruptured.

Seems like a simple fix. Go see the doc and get a new boob.

That may be somewhat of a straightforward solution if I actually had breasts to begin with. But remember, I don’t. I never have.

Breast reconstructive surgeries started for me when I was fifteen. My first surgeon didn’t educate my parents on the process. Tissue expanders would have been a nice option, but in his defense, there wasn’t an industry then like there is now. Therefore, implants were inserted in my chest with minimal ability for the scarring to stretch. It was one of the most painful experiences. You’re probably thinking, “Really? Compared to third degree burns?” I can say, my first breast reconstructive surgery ranks up there with some of my most terrible memories over the years.

Up until eighteen, I went through several more surgeries for my breasts. The implants kept falling; lack of support to hold them. There was even an attempt to make nipples for me. Let me say ladies, looking back now, I would decline that option. But as a young teenage girl, whose body didn’t look anything like it was suppose to, I was desperate for whatever might help make me look a bit more normal. However, I’ve seen lots of nipples in my line of work, and even though it was a detailed process of grafting and tattooing, the fact of the matter is, they don’t look like nipples.

Not long ago, I spoke with a woman who underwent breast reconstructive surgery after her battle with breast cancer. She opted out of the nipple construction and decided to get her own tattoo. She had her favorite flower tattooed over her reconstructed breast. Obviously, it’s not an art everyone can see to appreciate, but it’s special, because it’s for her. It’s something beautiful in place of what would only be an attempt for normal. As we know, “normal” takes on a new meaning after such a loss.

From eighteen to twenty-eight, I was breast surgery free. That is, until after Gavin’s birth. My left implant ruptured and it had to be replaced. However, ten years wasn’t too shabby for that set. (Reread that last sentence as if you were talking about tires. It adds an element of humor that is a must in situations like these). The surgery was out patient and took longer than anticipated. Brandon’s concern heightened when the staff started turning the lights off in the waiting room to close and he still hadn’t heard what was going on with me. The surgery took four hours. Shortly after I was awake, vomiting post op, we were booted out with an emesis basin and a cool washcloth for the ride home. That was just the beginning of an unpleasant recovery. The amount of scar tissue made it a challenge to replace the implants, and I felt it in the days following.

These are the reasons for my tears. I get so frustrated with it all. Honestly, I just wish I had my own. At some point in my life, I wish I had had my own. I wish I experienced that effortlessly natural development of a woman’s body. I wish this was an issue of enhancement and not reconstruction.

These are the reasons for my tears. I don’t know how many times these suckers can be replaced before I hear something along the lines, “I’m sorry, Heather. All the previous surgeries have created too much scar tissue and we’re not going to be able to replace them.” I don’t know there will ever come an age I’ll be okay without having anything, because come on, it’s not like they look normal anyway, but at least in my clothes I have the normal shape of a woman. And while there are some women rendered flat chested without a hint of breast tissue with no desire for reconstruction after surviving cancer or injury, I can say, I don’t want to forfeit this small piece of femininity that I never experienced on my own.

So here we go, back to the OR today for a piece of femininity. My surgeon is practical, and yet super sensitive to my concerns. We’re giving it a go with some ADM, specifically Strattice Reconstructive Tissue Matrix derived from porcine tissue used to reinforce my weak scar tissue,  and some silicone gel implants. We’re hoping for a good twenty-five years for the next set. Which would be five times longer than the ones I have now. I’d say that’s something to be optimistic about!

So what about those questions? How does a woman feel like a woman without breasts? Without having ever had them? What does femininity mean to a woman who never experienced an obvious development of becoming a woman?

Remember how I said that I was broken when I realized my implant was ruptured?

It is such a metaphor. Life had me completely deflated. At the same time I realized my boob was too!

While some of you may be reading this not having experienced the loss of your breasts, you have experienced those feelings of deflation. Nothing is left in you. You’ve lost your volume. Your excitement is nil, you’re running on empty.

Again, how does one feel like a woman when one is deflated? When one is broken?

Last spring, Brandon and I had the opportunity to meet Bob Goff. After meeting him, I just had to read his book. My Mom got it for me for my birthday and I was able to get into it this summer. God’s timing is….well, timely.

In his book, Love Does, Bob shares the story of his wedding cake. It landed on the pavement before it made it to the table. They served it anyway, gravel pieces and all! Bob used the experience to make an analogy to life. He says, “I simply decided that I wasn’t going to let the residual rocks and small pieces of gravel get in the way of me getting served up and used.”

Isn’t that good stuff? Well, take this in. He proceeds,

“It has always seemed to me that broken things, just like broken people, get used more; it’s probably because God has more pieces to work with.”

Now that changes the outlook of being deflated!

When I acknowledge the reality that my body isn’t what it was born to be. When I recognize there is not much of my body that is natural. When I get fed up with the reminders of my injury, I remind myself what a testimony it is and how God is using all my brokenness to connect and reach out to people in theirs. Deflated boob and all.

I’ve seen many women with boobs of their own, who didn’t have an ounce of authentic beauty, and I feel more sorry for them than I’ve ever felt in my own moments of self-pity.

Beauty is a mindset. And when the world comes in attack against your beauty, acknowledge your imperfections, be realistic with what is in the mirror, but remind yourself that God can use every piece of you, especially the broken ones, as you give yourself to Him. And He makes ALL THINGS beautiful!

Ecclesiastes 3:11 NLT

Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.

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Attention all ladies-- this upcoming retreat is for you!

Making Scents

On my drive home from work Sunday night I could smell the approach of rain. I drove by a freshly mowed lawn and took in the fragrance of fresh cut grass. As my senses were stirred, so were my thoughts. I thought about the word “aroma” and scriptures referencing how important smells are to our God. Smells are pretty important to us too. We can instantly recall memories when we take in a familiar scent. If there is a fragrance of coconut in shampoo or conditioner, it takes me back to being five years old using my Grandma’s shampoo. I loved that stuff. And how about perfume? I can be standing in line at the grocery store, or pass by someone at the mall, and catch the scent of Paula Rogers’ perfume, my former Pastor’s wife. I’m instantly taken back to those precious moments we spent praying at the altar together.

Recently, my work friend, Molly gave me a Bath and Body Works candle. My heart was deeply touched by her thoughtfulness. I’m reminded of her generous gesture as the sweet smell fills our home each time it’s lit. It is a pleasing aroma.

Considering how we’re affected by our sense of smell, and how we are made in the image of our Maker, I can only imagine what joy it brings to God to take in pleasing aromas. And I think we have a lot of fragrances to offer to Him, but we misclassify them. We think something stinks when in reality it brings much joy to our Lord when we give it to Him.

The project Brandon and I finished last week reflected how the Lord took something smelly and turned it into something sweet.

In the time since we have stepped out to be used in the public, motivational speaking role, we’ve realized the need for somewhat of a synopsis of our story and an idea of what some of the events look like.

Brandon felt completely confident about making a short video. I, on the other hand, felt we needed to call in professionals. Well, we didn’t have the budget for a professional, so Brandon’s proposal was very convincing. We started discussing what it needed to include. I said, “Oh, there is this song and it says something about being a little girl and something about crying and how God was there through it all.” Problem was, I didn’t remember any specific lyrics, nor could I remember who the artist was.

Can we just say when God wants something to happen, He will make it happen? Yes. Of course we can, because He does.

A few days later a short phrase of the lyrics popped in my mind as I was scurrying around the house. A short Google search later, I had Britt Nicole’s All This Time song pulled up, crying as I took in each word, as this truly is my story.

Each video clip and picture fell into place seamlessly. Really. Because remember, we are not professionals.

Assembling this project met the need for it; but it did far more than that. It reminded me how the Lord takes something so terrible, so unpleasant, so painful, physically and emotionally, and He turns it into something beautiful. It’s the beauty I see every time we have the opportunity to share, to see the brokenness of this journey connect with another in theirs, or to make one a bit more compassionate identifying all the brokenness around us.

I think that is a pretty sweet aroma to the Lord. Like the scent of rain, fresh cut grass, coconut shampoo, Paula’s perfume or Molly’s candle. I think the Lord takes in a full breath of our hardest times and is full of joy at our obedience to let Him use it.

But thank God! He has made us His captives and continues to lead us along in Christ’s triumphal procession. Now He uses us to spread the knowledge of Christ everywhere, like a sweet perfume.  II Corinthians 2:14 NLT

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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZP-3u3RONI8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZP-3u3RONI8

All This Time ~ Britt Nicole

I remember the moment, I remember the pain

I was only a girl, but I grew up that day

Tears were falling

I know You saw me

Hiding there in my bedroom, so alone

I was doing my best, trying to be strong

No one to turn to

That's when I met You

All this time, from the first tear cried

'Till today's sunrise

And every single moment between

You were there, You were always there

It was You and I

You've been walking with me all this time

Ever since that day, it's been clear to me

That no matter what comes, You will never leave

I know You're for me

And You're restoring

Every heartache and failure, every broken dream

You're the God who sees, the God who rescued me

This is my story

This is my story

I hear these people asking me

How do I know what I believe

Well, I'm not the same me, and that's all the proof I need

I felt love, I felt Your grace

You stole my heart that day

You've been walking with me all this time

All this time, from the first tear cried

'Till today's sunrise

And every single moment between

You were there, You were always there

It was You and I

You've been walking with me all this time

Songwriters: David Arthur Garcia, Benjamin Glover, and Brittany Waddell

Published by Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group

Back To School Essentials

New clothes, new shoes, fresh haircuts; it’s the components of a back-to-school routine. Then there’s a most dreadful task---school supply shopping. The back packs and lunch boxes are fun essentials, but that list of Crayola boxes, Ticonderoga pencils, glue sticks, pink erasers and 4x6 lined note cards, to name a few, are enough to do a someone in. This year was consistent with the priors. We filed into Wal-Mart with our supply lists in hand and we went to town, making piles in the cart for each child’s must haves. If only every item were available in one location of the store, or even better… in one stop; but as much as I dread the process, I look back to my first school-supply shopping spree with all four children in tote and no others are quite as bad.

Gavin was fresh out of the NICU, monitor and all. I lugged him in his carrier along with his monitor and the other three kiddos into the store for the annual event. We searched high and low, to and fro, obtaining the items one-by-one off the list. We toddled into the consistently long check out line, got up to the register, rang up and bagged the items, only for me to discover that my wallet was not in the diaper bag as I had thought! Talk about despair! I nearly had a meltdown right there with the cashier. To bring closure to the event, I have to tell you, I did have my wallet in the car, and I did spot someone in my church family to stand with the kids while I ran out to get it. All ended well, but nonetheless, did not go as planned.

Each year, we tend to get a little more, especially since all four of them are all in school now. It is certainly a tedious task, but in the process of checking off our back-to-school essentials, we felt it was essential to supply the kids some pointers for a successful year. Each day I posted a scripture on the fridge and we spent some time reading and discussing it with each child as we tucked them in bed, yes, even the fourteen year-old. One-on-one time allowed each child to share their thoughts regarding the passage relevant to their own age and stage. Here’s some of what we’ve been taking into our hearts and minds the last week and a half.

1. Be a hard worker. Be your best and do your best— not for your teachers, not for your parents, do it for God.  Colossians 3:23 NLT ~ Work willingly at whatever you do, as though you were working for the Lord rather than for people.

2. Sometimes we don’t feel very confident or sure of ourselves, but don’t give up, God is with you, so be strong and have courage.  Joshua 1:9 NLT~ 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.”

3. Cover yourself in God’s armor to fight what is wrong and do what is right. Stand strong. You are equipped for any battle that comes against you.  Ephesians 6:13-17 NLT ~ Therefore, put on every piece of God’s armor so you will be able to resist the enemy in the time of evil. Then after the battle you will still be standing firm. Stand your ground, putting on the belt of truth and the body armor of God’s righteousness. For shoes, put on the peace that comes from the Good News so that you will be fully prepared. In addition to all of these, hold up the shield of faith to stop the fiery arrows of the devil. Put on salvation as your helmet, and take the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

4. Life is a balance of pulling away and gravitating toward. Identify people you should keep a distance with. Always be friendly, but not close.  II Timothy 3:1-5 NLT ~ You should know this, Timothy, that in the last days there will be very difficult times. For people will love only themselves and their money. They will be boastful and proud, scoffing at God, disobedient to their parents, and ungrateful. They will consider nothing sacred. They will be unloving and unforgiving; they will slander others and have no self-control. They will be cruel and hate what is good. They will betray their friends, be reckless, be puffed up with pride, and love pleasure rather than God. They will act religious, but they will reject the power that could make them godly. Stay away from people like that!

5. You have power inside of you because of Jesus! Remember when it is time to do something difficult that the same Spirit who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you!  Romans 8:11 NLT ~ The Spirit of God, who raised Jesus from the dead, lives in you. And just as God raised Christ Jesus from the dead, He will give life to your mortal bodies by this same Spirit living within you.

6. When you feel like you’re all alone and everyone is against you, remember God is on your side. He’s in your fan club and is cheering for you!  Romans 8:31 NLT ~ What shall we say about such wonderful things as these? If God is for us, who can ever be against us?

7. Don’t worry about schoolwork or people or making things perfect. Talk to God. Be thankful even when it’s hard to find something to be thankful for. Ask for God’s peace to protect your thoughts and your heart, your motives and what you want.  Philippians 4:6-7 NLT ~ Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank Him for all He has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.

8. You can do anything! Don’t question or doubt yourself. He gives you strength to do what you need to do.  Philippians 4:13 NLT ~ For I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.

9. You are taken care of and you have everything you need. God supplies out of His riches, a never-ending supply. You can count on Him.  Philippians 4:19 NLT ~ And this same God who takes care of me will supply all your needs from His glorious riches, which have been given to us in Christ Jesus.

10. Do good and be an example to those who do not know Jesus.  3 John 1:11 NLT ~ Dear friend, do not imitate what is evil but what is good. Anyone who does what is good is from God. Anyone who does what is evil has not seen God.

*** Blessings to you for a strong 2015-2016 school year! ***

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The In Between

I’ve heard it my entire life…. “The older you get the faster time passes.” Who can testify to the truth of that statement? But I have just a small stipulation to add —the older your kids get the faster time passes.

I’m just not ready to lay claim to aging. I mean I’m only thirty-four. Regardless, life is on fast forward (or that button you hit on your DVR remote to skip forward ten seconds at a time). I mean, didn’t we just have Christmas? We’ve already made it more than halfway through 2015 and our children are headed back-to-school!

Let me confess, this school year was more difficult than ones before. At the conclusion of the 2014-2015 school year, we stood in the kitchen, all six of us shuffling around one another as we unloaded the dishwasher, filled it again, and dished up our evening dinner. In an effort to digest the fact that our baby wasn’t a baby anymore, I posed a question to my husband, “Babe, can you believe we have a kindergartener in our house now?! Not a PreKer, but a kindergartner?!” Our daughter interjected, “And a high schooler.” I corrected, “No. No. We don’t have a high schooler,” incredibly serious, as there was no way we ourselves were old enough to have a child in high school. She insisted, “Yes, Mom. I’m going to be a freshman. That’s high school.” [Insert mom’s heart sinking into my lower intestine here.]

You see, I longed for and desired my children since I was a child. I vividly remember lying in my intensive care unit bed thinking about my future. Before our accident I frequented my Grandma’s dining room and draped her lace curtains over my face pretending to get married. An eighty-seven percent burn injury makes marriage seem like even more of a fantasy to a small child. So when this story started trending toward the fairytale I had abandoned so many years before, my desire for the children I thought I’d never have escalated.

I was more than ready to become a mom when my little Brooklyn Nicole arrived on the scene three weeks before my twentieth birthday. I felt like I had waited for her my entire life, and the first true breath that had ever fully filled my lungs was the one I took in of her and her precious life. I breathed even deeper with the arrival of my baby boys, Jaron Michael, Caden Robert and Gavin Lee.

Being their mom is and has been the most meaningful moments of my life.

And that’s where we want to put things in slow motion, but rather than having the amenity of slowing things down, it only passes all the more quickly when they arrive. Most of the time, we’re juggling the day’s duties, and before we know it we’re into the next. Rarely do we experience a full night’s rest after the birth of our children, and I’m not just referring to the season that they’re little. No, they grow as we tackle everything with them in the daylight hours. Then in the night, in the quiet stillness while they sleep, we continue on. But we acclimate, don’t we? We adjust to late nights and early mornings until it becomes normal. It is there I ask myself, “Man. If it went this fast, how fast would it have gone if I would have slept?” [We’re making inserts into this post—so insert a winky face here].

Well, I assume it would have passed all the more quickly. So here we are, in a brand new season. For the first time in fourteen and a half years, all of my children are in school all day. That’s enough to bring a tear, isn’t it? I hope so, because I’m telling you, I didn’t think I’d really cry on the outside, maybe feel it a little in my heart, but no, I totally did. I barely got out the door. I mall-walked it to my car after dropping off the last child. I’m not talking a little teary-eyed either. No, I’m talking lip-quivering kind of crying. Who would have thought?! Not me. There are times I even surprise myself.

The last fourteen and a half years of having at least one child home with me for at least some part, if not all of the day has been my normal. Now, the season has changed and I’m settling into a new normal. Kissing all four of their faces as they exit the car in the morning, picking them up in the chaos of car rider line in the afternoon; and in the in-between, being brave, pursuing what God has called me to do with those hours He’s purposed for this time now.

There is so much in store; so much ahead that I can hardly stand to allow myself to shed a tear for what has been. But those were amazing chapters. My tears were more of a “thank you, God for letting me experience that,” than an “I’m so sad it’s over.”

We have many great things to come in our family. It will nevertheless, continue to change. It’s constantly going to be looking a little different. Most likely, I’ll cry again. I’m emotional like that. I’ll cry for what has been, for what will be and for the fact that God walks with me in the in-betweens.

Psalm 90:14 NLT  

Satisfy us each morning with your unfailing love, so we may sing for joy to the end of our lives.

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I Think I Can

It’s such an interesting question to ask children what they want to be when they grow up. Our soon-to-be nine year-old recently told us he wanted to either be a skateboarder or an engineer like Dad. Dad delicately informed him that skateboarding isn’t a degree option, but that it’d be a super cool hobby. We’ll check back and see where that leads over the next decade. Our daughter is passionate about animals, and has been since she was a little girl. At four years old she had the opportunity to climb up and throw her little bitty legs over a big ole’ horse and experience the grandeur of such a ride. It sparked a little light. That light grew into a burning desire to one day have her own horse to ride off with.

Although we live out on acreage, I never pictured us having a massive animal like a horse. But isn’t it something how the dreams of our children become our dreams, and how we’ll work together in pursuing them? It took some time, but the sweetest horse recently became part of The Meadows Family. Gray Boy is a dream come true, for Brooklyn certainly, but also for her family, who dreamed along with her even when it seemed so far from reality.

Isn’t that what dreams are made of?

A dream isn’t something we know we can do. It’s something we think we can do, just enough to try.

I remember when I was a little girl standing at the fence line in our backyard singing Somewhere Over the Rainbow to the cows as they grazed on the grass and looked at me with perplexity. I never imagined then that when I got to be a little older I’d hold a real microphone and have a real audience of people listening.

Looking back to my high school biology class when my friend Mandy and I dissected a mink, it never crossed my mind that one day the Lord would call me to be a nurse and there’d be a plethora of science classes to follow. Every student has subjects more challenging than others; math and science were mine, but when God sparks a dream within us, we just need to believe it’s possible- and try.

For someone with an A-type personality, I like to know the plan, that is, if I’m not the one making the plan. And the God who made me, knows me from the inside out. So He leads me to places I’ve never known. It’s a relationship of trust. I don’t know exactly where the road is leading, I don’t know what I’ll see along the way, I don’t know what I’m going to feel through the traveling, but I know He is with me, guiding and directing my path, so I go, even though He doesn’t reveal the entire plan, I go where He leads.

Ninety-nine posts ago, the Lord led me to start here with a laptop and a blank Word document. He used my friend, Rhonda to nudge me to try. I never imagined this blog would grow to one hundred posts, over a thousand supporters, more than forty thousand views, read in parts of the world I didn’t know existed, and take us to Massachusetts. The Lord has used this blog to lead me to places I’ve never known. Those places are only known from listening to His voice, following His leading and believing all things are possible.

There are times we don’t know the possibilities of what we set out to do. We effortlessly develop lists of reasons why we shouldn’t even try, most of the time, because we’re consumed with comparison, but that’s another blog post. Remember, there is no one like you, and only you can accomplish the purposes God has for your life. He may have placed a dream in your heart that your mind can’t contain, but that’s okay. All you have to do is just think you can, and try.

We’re still working things out here at The Meadows. We don’t have this horse thing down, but there are others who do, and God has brought them into our path. We’re still asking what everyone wants to be when they grow up; it changes like the Oklahoma weather, but it’s always seamlessly full of wonder. I’ve now got writing a book on my radar, not because I think I’m so fabulous at writing, but because God put it in my heart, so I’m going to do it, because--- I Think I Can.

Bless you for traveling this journey with me.

Pursue Him and those dreams He’s speaking into you.

Jeremiah 33:3 NIV Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know.

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Nurses Cry

There are a few days out of each month I have the privilege of walking the halls amongst many great minds and using my life to be of use to another. While I cherish the moments I have to spend working as a neonatal intensive care nurse, I know God is calling me to use my life in some other areas as well. We want to be right where He wants us to be, when He wants us to be there. Although my time in the NICU looks differently now, I’m grateful I still have the opportunity to be there in some capacity. I see mighty works occur in that place, the power of God demonstrated before our very eyes. There was a season I invested a full-time schedule in the NICU. And during that time I had the privilege of being a part of many families’ journeys. In our unit, our families are given the option to choose which nurses they would prefer to care for their baby. Personalities and dispositions of parents and nurses connect differently, and having a strong connection benefits the baby’s care. One way in particular is from the consistency it provides.

Being asked to primary a baby is a great honor. I mean, to be chosen, is a pretty incredible feeling. Picture being asked out on a date. It means you stood out, you’ve been evaluated and assessed, and the conclusion made is that you’re of value. Someone wants to take you out and spend their money just to spend some time with you and get to know you more. It’s more than the, you’re good enough message, it’s communicating, you’re really great!

While primary nursing isn’t exactly as charming as dating, it certainly provides for a strong bond to be made. Spending twelve hours a day, three days a week, for sometimes and often, months at a time, creates a special connection for nurses with the baby and the family. It’s an endearment that lasts far beyond the discharge date. Friendships are frequently formed. Updates are routinely given. Messages are usually exchanged and occasionally, invitations are extended.

Just a month ago I received such a message and along with it came a request. A sweet woman who once chose me to be a part of caring for her sick baby, was now asking me to help her with an endeavor to help others. She contacted me only a month ago regarding a charitable organization they had formed, expressing her intentions for this project, “to help families with preemie or sick babies.” Her heart for others was evident, “our goal is to help with breast pumps or paying the rental fee for moms who want to breastfeed.” She continued, “to also provide information and resources to them.”

Upon receiving the message, I was honored she felt my contributions through writing would be advantageous for her organization. I was more than willing to compose a post for her. Her last message to me was in regards to her precious baby, “we have such a miracle thanks to all of you that worked so hard on her behalf.”

There is so much I don’t understand about life. There are so many questions I have.

It was a rainy morning that particular Thursday I found myself back in the NICU. I was eager to be there. See, we’ve had a storm at home. From it I’ve contended those occasionally inevitable feelings that nothing I do is good enough and that I can’t get right the stuff that really matters. It sounds selfish, but I needed some time to feel useful, to feel productive, to feel good about what I do. Barely into the eight o’clock cares, my phone received messages my heart could not process.

Message after message came through from those who knew of my connection to this family.

While I didn’t know them well, I knew enough. I knew being a mother was the most important role to this woman. I knew her children to be kind, well mannered and respectful. I knew her to be concerned for others, wanting to help in any way she could. She was dedicated, sensitive, kind, sweet and reasonable. Why use the word reasonable? The NICU sees parents at their worst, when they have no control over caring for their own baby. We walked through a dark time with them, and they came alongside us as a team, for what was best for their baby.

I can’t imagine all the things that may be said about them. Who knows what may or may not have happened? Who knows why?

We’re so inclined to ask, but nothing could attest to the senseless tragedy which has unfolded before us all.

There are times I wish I could emotionally “end my assignment.” We log in at the end of our shift, report off to the next shift, select our patients in the charting program, right click, select “end my assignment,” we clock out and we go home to come back and do it again.   But sometimes we barely get the car door closed before the well bursts open, tears of compassion a nurse can’t help but shed. Sometimes we can’t go to sleep fueled with concern for our little patients. Sometimes we call in the middle of the night just to check in where our heart has stayed, with the patient, with the family, with the hope that a positive outcome will surface.

Nursing is more than a career option. It’s more than a schedule of twelve-hour shifts in which you rarely sit down and sometimes even forgo eating and bathroom breaks. It’s more than stethoscopes, meds and tracking I’s and O’s. It’s an investment of heart. It’s giving a piece of your life for another, and there are times, you’re blessed to be given a piece of theirs. Sometimes it hurts. Many times we cry. But there’s no doubt, someone who is called to be a nurse, will always come back to do it again.

This mother asked me to use my voice here at this blog to inform readers about their organization. I am grieved by the opportunity I no longer have to fulfill her request. So today, I write a little about what I knew of her and her family. I write to say something good about their family while many may be formulating very negative opinions. Above all, I write to point to the One who is greater than the most heinous of all acts, our magnificent God. Only He can bear the turmoil, only He can touch the hearts, only He can speak into the darkness, only He can comfort the overwhelming loss.

Job 19:25 ESV

For I know that my Redeemer lives,

and at the last He will stand upon the earth.

Romans 16:20 ESV

The God of peace will soon crush Satan under your feet. The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ be with you.

A Nurse’s Prayer by Rita Riche

Almighty God, Divine Healer of all, grant me Your handmaiden, strength and courage in my calling.

Give to my heart, compassion and understanding.

Give to my hands, skill and tenderness.

Give to my mind knowledge and wisdom.

Especially, Dear Lord, help me always to remember the true purpose of my vocation, that of self-less service and dedication to the weak and despairing in body and spirit. Amen

*please help in avoiding any mention of names in comments-- bless you for your thoughts, your compassion, and your prayers.

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The Meadows in Massachusetts

Monday afternoon I grabbed my computer along with one of the piles in the office and set down at the kitchen table to start paying bills. This is usually a task tackled in the office, but that place looked too scary. Piles and piles of papers had accumulated over the last three weeks, and I only had the focus for one at a time. We use Excel to record our transactions in our check register and we use our Discover card for nearly every purchase we make. So when it comes to balancing, I have two statements to balance, our Discover statement and then our bank statement. Dave would greatly disapprove of this process, but it’s worked for us for about twelve years now. We use our Discover card as many others use their bank debit card (so we don’t have one of those). Every single charge goes into our check register, so when the statement comes in, the money is there and we have accrued some nice cash back rewards for items we needed to buy anyway. The only downside, is again, we have two statements to balance, but utilizing Excel, we can easily filter those Discover transactions and typically complete the process proficiently.

I grabbed my green highlighter and started marking off line-by-line the items recorded. It quickly takes me back to recent memories. The joy stirs around inside my heart as I recall them. There was the charge from the theater when we went as a family to see Disney’s Inside Out on our anniversary. There was the charge from the department store when Brooklyn and I went on a little shopping spree. Then my mind and my heart had the joy to revisit several places, like Dave’s Diner, Plimouth Plantation, Martha’s Vineyard Gourmet Café, Fenway Park and The Duck Tour, oh and how could I fail to mention, Dunkin’ Donuts, as our good friends refer to as “Dunkies”.

It was more than touristy destinations. Those transactions indicated where we went and what we saw. Those places represent a trip that the Lord took us on to change us and grow us in who He wants us to be and what He has called us to do.

This can’t be chalked up to coincidence. How insignificant it seemed to Brandon and me at times that we felt we needed to change our domain name. And honestly, I searched my heart before the Lord repeatedly if it was a spirit of pride fueling our efforts to acquire it. I mean, you can see why, it’s my name. I was concerned for the possibility of being self-absorbed.

Then there was that roadblock. Yes, heathermeadows.com was available, but after four months of offers to purchase, the owner thought he was dealing with a real estate group and threw out a whopping $10k price tag. With my own soul searching, and then this news, it just seemed that the Lord was directing us away from it. Still yet, our spirit felt otherwise. He has called us to share our story. So share it. And share it we did. Doing the very basic task He called us to do, resulted in heathermeadows.com not being bought, but being given, and not only a domain given, but an opportunity given, to travel 1600 miles away to do what God has purposed us to do, share our story.

Brandon and I pressed in, seeking the Lord for what He specifically wanted us to share in our time in Massachusetts. We knew He had orchestrated this opportunity. Our desire was to be used by Him to not only share our story, but to speak into hearts a message He knew each one needed.

Every moment there was like Christmas morning; many gifts slowly unwrapped, revealing His love, goodness and the excitement of His plans.

Brooklyn and I had a delightful Saturday morning with the women of the East Freetown Congregational Christian Church. We sat around the table and enjoyed good food, loving interactions, and the sweet presence of the Lord as we got into His Word for a devotional and prayer. The women were personable, relational, transparent, humble, and had the hearts of a servant. Did we all really just meet? It didn’t seem like it. I was among friends, sisters in this family of God.

Never did we feel like visitors. We were welcomed in and met with the sweetest hospitality. We had the opportunity to participate in Joel and Lori’s traditional Saturday afternoon lunch with their best friends from high school, John and Kevin. The evening held another treat, getting to feed horses, (and a cute donkey who is in love with his neighbor pen mare), grill out eating some more amazing food, and fellowship with fellow followers of Jesus all hosted by Brad and Christine, who make you feel like you’re one of the family. Really. I mean one of the family. Christine wanted me to let her do my laundry, and let me tell you, she was serious. She also had Brooklyn over a few days later and coordinated a trial ride for her through a State Forest.

We were received in such warmth and such love. We were shown much generosity, rarely able to pay for our own meals.

Here we came to give. We were asking the Lord to pour us out to others. You’ve read how much we received, but that was just in the first two days. There’s more.

God graciously anointed the message. His Word was delivered with passion, conviction, and love for His people. There was an assurance that we were used as He desired. But I’ve learned something. When we walk in obedience to Him, we’re always going to be getting more. I was prepared to minister to the hearts of His people. I didn’t anticipate how greatly they would minister to mine. I went ready to serve, ready to be used, ready to give, but I got far more than I gave.

There was the mother of the young boy who was born with a congenital heart defect. It touched my heart the memories she shared with me, and the chance to meet her now healthy little boy who stood beside her. Then there was the missionary who shared her heartbeat and passion for Japan with me. A blessing to hear the reports of how God has provided for her to minister.

A special song was beautifully delivered specifically in ministry to us. A young couple visited with me after service, sharing their desperate journey to find a kidney. We had prayer and shortly after I received a message from Chuck, “We know God has plans for us. We plan on sharing with the church on Sunday.” An ultrasound photo said it all.

There was also a visitor, who came up to Brandon after service and explained that he was late for his church, and decided to pull in for service. He didn’t have time to speak to me, but wanted Brandon to know how the message spoke to him. With his hospital bracelet still on his wrist, he explained to Brandon that his baby was in the NICU and how timely the words were that he came to receive.

Call it a reason to retreat

I got some dreams that are bigger than me

I might be outmatched, outsized, the underdog in the fight of my life

It is so crazy to believe

That you gave me the stars put them out of my reach

Called me to waters a little to deep

Oh, I’ve never been so aware of my need

You keep making me see

It’s way beyond me

Anything that I got the strength to do

In over my head keeps me countin’ on You

I’m leaving the sweet spot, sure shot

Tradin’ it all for the plans You got

It is so crazy to believe

You take me to the place where I know I need You

Straight to the depths that I can’t handle on my own

And the Lord I know, I know I need You

So take me to Your great…

Take me to Your great unknown.

~Beyond Me- Toby Mac Publishing: © 2014 Achtober Songs

The Meadows went to Massachusetts and God did some pretty awesome things in us while we were there. To be honest, we got gut punched the minute we departed. In the process of catching our breath, we know there is great opposition for us to have more experiences like the one in Massachusetts.

It’s way beyond me. I’m definitely the underdog. I’m certainly aware of my need. And I know that whatever I can’t handle on my own, He can. And I’m brave enough and determined enough to pursue whatever that is. I want Him to take it all.

In freedom we live

As one we cry out

You carried the cross

You died and rose again

My God, I’ll only ever give my all

~Hillsong United- Take It All

But each day the Lord pours His unfailing love upon me, and through each night I sing His songs, praying to God who gives me life.     Psalm 42:8 NLT

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Click Here to Learn More About Charles Welsh and His Need for a Kidney

Charles is registered with the Mass General Transplant Team (617) 643 7193

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rTMrwhljtv8

Everything is Awesome

“Mom, do you heal the sick babies or does Jesus?” Gavin’s question was seeking clarity for what I actually do at work. He’s heard me say, “I’m going to work tomorrow to take care of the sick babies, so Grandma will be here with you in the morning.” But his question this particular time was formulated from deep thought. I can understand the confusion; if Jesus does the healing what does Mama do? “Well, it’s really amazing,” I began to explain. “Jesus can heal the babies all on His own, but He knows how much I love to take care of them, so He lets me help Him. Isn’t that wonderful, that He lets me help Him, the same way you sometimes help me?”

Let’s give that some thought. In all our comings and goings, God allows us to accomplish things He could do completely on His own. He doesn’t even need us to fulfill His plan, but He uses us nevertheless, because He loves us and He knows the purpose He placed within our being.

Isn’t that awesome?!

Brooklyn and I had a similar discussion back in April, the day after we learned the once $10,000 priced domain name was going to be given to us in agreement that we would come share our story. It was so much for us to wrap our mind around. How simple our brains operate; not really, if you’ve ever read much about neurological function, but in our planning and pondering, it is absolutely nothing in comparison to our Omniscient God.

While I wasn’t a huge fan of The LEGO Movie, I grabbed a life lesson in the story, along with a really catchy tune… “Everything is awesome! Everything is cool when you’re part of a team. Everything is awesome, when you’re living our dream.” Okay. I apologize. That song will most certainly pop in your mind throughout the day now. I just couldn’t resist.

In the movie, did you notice how the story line changed according to who was manipulating the characters? There was such randomness when the boy was playing with the Legos. Just when things looked like they couldn’t get any worse, out of the blue, a solution would appear. The dad, however, was organized, precise, with no wiggle room for the underdog to rise.

So is life. Our life. The exception for us is free will. God won’t take over unless we ask Him to. I want to be a Lego for the Lord. I want the Lord to move me as He desires. I want His plan to be my game plan. I want His blue print to be my guide.

We’re following His roadmap. And it’s led us to Massachusetts.

How dull. We thought we were simply going to seek out the purchase of heathermeadows.com. But God had bigger plans. This isn’t randomness; this is creativity at work, a divine plan orchestrated.

Now here we are, 1600 miles away from home, sharing our story, making new friends, and celebrating how God uses His people. He gives us purpose and allows us to be His helpers.

Yes—everything is awesome!

Psalm 139:1-6 NLT

O Lord, you have examined my heart

    and know everything about me.

You know when I sit down or stand up.

    You know my thoughts even when I’m far away.

You see me when I travel

    and when I rest at home.

    You know everything I do.

You know what I am going to say

    even before I say it, Lord.

You go before me and follow me.

    You place your hand of blessing on my head.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,

    too great for me to understand!

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A Name Given

I remember the first time I saw my name in print. It was the spring of 1999 just before our June 19th wedding, and it was on a hotel reservation that had come in the mail for our road-trip honeymoon. Since we weren’t old enough to have the option of renting a car, we decided we probably shouldn’t fly anywhere, so we drove.  Oh the challenges for those married young. When I got that envelope in the mail I remember just staring at that name. Heather Meadows. That was going to be me. I didn’t identify with the name. I had spent eighteen years as Heather Cochrane, but I was soon to take on a new name. A name given to me by my husband, and one I’ve spent the last sixteen identified by.

Over the years I received occasional comments about it. For instance, one was when we had our family accounting business. I called the IRS for an audit on one of our accounts. I gave all the necessary information along with my name and the agent said, “Wasn’t your mom creative.” I was taken aback because my Mom and I shared the same office, prompting my mind to consider that maybe the agent had spoke to her regarding the account, but still wondering how in the world the agent knew we were related. Something clicked quickly, and I amusingly informed the agent that “Meadows” was my married name.

That scenario has happened more than once. It’s where I came up with saying, “Heather Meadows. Heather like a flower. Meadows like a field.” It is a nice fit. And sweeter still—it was given to me!

I’ve been so proud to carry my husband’s name and that of his family’s. I remember shortly after we got married having this discussion about how Christ gives us His name when we accept Him as our Lord and Savior—we become Christians, carrying His name and representing Him to others. And Jesus paid it all to give us His name. It is truly a gift— given!

We speak to our children about their names too. We teach them that their name is a reflection of their family, and that their actions should honor the name which has been given to them. Just as we steward those things the Lord has entrusted to us, our time, our money, our home, our vehicles; we must steward the name He has given us.

And it is this name I have carried the last sixteen years, the name I have identified myself with that I slowly become detached from in the process of changing the website name.

Why change the name of our website?

To be completely transparent, the answer is, I’m not completely sure.

Brandon and I knew God was stirring change. We knew this tragic story of loss and injury had to be shared. The Lord has given us enough opportunities to experience how He can use it for others. I know He spared my life for far more than my own fulfillment of it. What He accomplished on that dirt road back in 1988, and in those operating rooms and in that hospital bed and in those therapy sessions was for His glory. And it must be shared.

Our ongoing online development revealed to us that most of the searches going to Heather’s Blessed JouRNey were simply searches for Heather Meadows. So it seemed obvious to us that if we were going to change it, we’d just change it to my name. Make it "easy peasy" for visitors to find us and to share our testimony.

Well. Actually. It would have been just that…simple. In the process of trying to obtain heathermeadows.com, I became further and further removed from my own name. This was never about me to begin with. However, being real, it seems natural to say, “yes, that’s me!” or raise a hand, when your name is called. But not in this story. No. I was four months asking to obtain a domain of my own name. I was ten thousand dollars removed from my own name.

“By definition, a God-ordained dream will always be beyond your ability and beyond your resources. But that is how God gets the glory.” Mark Batterson, The Grave Robber

I’m so thankful this was complicated. I’m so thankful it wasn’t a simple process. What would we have missed had it been?

We would have missed growing in trust and obedience. We would have missed an experience to be totally wowed and impressed by His hand at work in the smallest details. We would have missed a gift given. We would have missed an opportunity to build a friendship, visit a new place and we would have missed a chance to share our story.  Additionally, we would have missed the anticipation of what He wants to do through what He's already done.

Because it wasn't simple, we now get to meet the sweet couple who generously gave us our new online home, Joel and Lori Pacheco. In one week we will be meeting them face to face, hugging their necks, sharing some meals, and speaking at their church.  We're getting far more than a domain name-- that would have been too simple!

Mark Batterson writes in The Grave Robber, “And when you experience a miracle, the way you steward it is by believing God for even bigger and better miracles.”

Yes. My name is Heather Meadows and I’m a steward. I’m stewarding some miracles. From that seven year-old little girl, to her married name, to the website she shares it at. All beyond my abilities. All for God’s glory!

I pray that through this gift given to me, the Lord will pass on many more gifts.  It is my hope to give a little something to you in each visit.  The baby nurse in me administers little doses of what little babies need.  May you receive the perfect portion of encouragement, inspiration, joy, and strength, through Him who provides for all our needs.

Isaiah 12:4 ESV

And you will say in that day:

“Give thanks to the Lord,

call upon His name,

make known His deeds among the peoples,

proclaim that His name is exalted.

*Still to come-- a picture with Joel and Lori!

*click heathermeadows.com to tour the new site

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We're Moving!

I was so discouraged on March 28^th when I sat down to write the blog post, It Is Time. However, I wrote it because I’m familiar with Samuel’s instruction in I Samuel 15:22. But Samuel replied,

“What is more pleasing to the Lord:

your burnt offerings and sacrifices

or your obedience to his voice?

Listen! Obedience is better than sacrifice,

and submission is better than offering the fat of rams."

His voice. Obedience to His voice.

Obedience to His voice was what prompted my decision to cut back on my hours working as a neonatal intensive care nurse. He spoke to my heart while I was recovering from my third surgery in the year. “It is time.” I knew exactly what it was time for. It was time to humble myself, put aside my avoidances of looking foolish and start doing what He’s been preparing me to do for over a decade.

Sure I’ve made my list of excuses. “Lord, I can’t write a book. I don’t have any professional training as a writer.” But the Word tells me He is the Author and Perfecter of our faith, Hebrews 12:2. He’s not depending on my ability to write it anyway, He’s calling me to be obedient. He equips those He calls.

I’ve composed several questions. “Who is going to have me come speak? How will we maintain our personal budget on a speaker’s fluctuating income?” But the Word tells me He sees even the sparrow, Matthew 10:29, how much more does He care for me? Our budget goes a lot further if we’re investing our resources how He is directing, that includes our time and our money. Obedience to His voice. He provides for those He calls.

When I wrote to share this vision, I thought there’d be an element to share that the Lord had laid on our hearts months before, but it was further away than when we started. Had we heard His voice? It was most definitely my biggest concern. Regardless, I wrote it, knowing the simple functions of my human mind are nothing in comparison to His plans. For this reason, I Corinthians 1:25 NLT was on my heart, “This foolish plan of God is wiser than the wisest of human plans, and God’s weakness is stronger than the greatest of human strength.”

Two days before, on March 26^th, I had spent working a fulfilling day in the NICU. Upon checking my email that night I received an anticipated message from the broker who had been negotiating on our behalf for more than three months at that time, to purchase a domain the Lord had laid on our hearts.   His message was short, informing us he had heard from the owners and that they wanted $10,000 for the domain.

It seemed apparent that the Lord didn’t want us to simplify our blog website name.

Months before my dear friend, Sara who designed the Heather’s Blessed JouRNey logo a few years ago, jumped on board with our vision to have some brochures made. In this culture of technology, people still love to have information in hand. I’m one of those people. I’ll hit “print” just to be able to touch the material and put my yellow highlighter to use. So Sara put her creativity and talent to work and designed a brochure for us. When we got together to tweak it, I told her we were hoping to move the blog to a new domain. She selected the line, hit delete, and entered, “heathermeadows.com”. I quickly explained that we hadn’t got it yet. Sara, in her laid back, nonchalant personality said, “That’s okay. When you do, we’ll edit. But we have a place marker for it now.” Little did I know how the Lord would use that design to grow me.

My assurance teetered back and forth in the weeks to follow. I went from feeling confident in His calling to doubting my discernment of His voice. In that time, a reoccurring theme inundated my spirit. Trust. As the Lord spoke “rest” into my heart for 2014, see New Year, Same Life, “trust” is His message to me for 2015. Understanding that the way He grows our patience is to give us more opportunities to be patient, so is the process for us to grow in trust. And those opportunities have been presented in effective ways the last few months.

A lunch with a co-worker and friend on March 3^rd informed me of a nurse turned nurse practitioner who had read one of my favorite books, The Circle Maker and how she put that book to use in her need regarding employment in her new role. It's such an encouraging story that she shared on her blog, visit http://www.wanderlove.co/drawing-circles-part-ii/ to read it.  I first read The Circle Maker a few years ago, in the spring of 2012, on a flight to Washington DC. Ironic that I first learned of Mark Batterson when flying to the city where he Pastors? No. Not when I consider the creative wonders of my Maker. That lunch on March 3^rd stirred the text, which took root in my heart three years ago, and inspired me to come home and print out the rough draft brochure. I wrote Zechariah 4:6 NLT “…It is not by force nor by strength, but by my Spirit, says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies.” I circled heathermeadows.com and I hung it in our bathroom on our safe room door.

In the weeks to follow, I prayed the Word over that domain. “Lord, You don’t need a domain to accomplish Your purposes. But if this is Your will, it has to happen by Your Spirit. It is not by force. I can’t force this to happen. It is not by the sheer determination of my personality, but completely by You.”

Oh that prayer. I circled the domain. But honestly, I considered abandoning it numerous times. “Lay out a fleece before the Lord.” I’m familiar with the Biblical practice found in Judges 6. I’d resort in my mind, “if it’s not by such and such date, we’ll go ahead and print the brochures with Heather’s Blessed JouRNey.com”. Nevertheless, each date that came, it didn’t feel right. So when you don’t know what to do, you wait and you continue seeking God.

Sounds very encouraging doesn’t it? But allow me to remind you of what followed; the email on March 26^th. $10,000. Wow! Now that would appear to be our answer. “Let it go.” But neither Brandon nor I could do that. We were stumped. Why had this been so heavy on our hearts, so important if it wasn’t going to happen?

Still yet, two days later, the Lord led me to write about the vision He’s laid on our hearts and to share the photo Mallory Hall Photography took for these endeavors of me by the ditch where I was injured. All I can say is God’s timing is perfect. Of all the different things I’ve written about it, it was instrumental that that post be the first one seen at the top of the blog at that time.

Discouragement still loomed. The next day Brandon stayed home from church to study for an upcoming certification, so he wasn’t with us in service that day. The boys went to their classes and Brooklyn and I were in service together. It was Palm Sunday, March 29^th. Our Pastor concluded the message and invited attendees to the altars. Brooklyn and I bowed our heads and began our personal prayers. The Holy Spirit nudged me to the altar. I seriously thought, “Lord, I can’t go down to the altar to pray about a domain. You don’t even need the domain to accomplish Your purposes. You're greater.” Then I started to consider some of those in the altar, like a woman in our church who is battling bone cancer, and our Pastor who was most likely seeking the Lord for the lost who would be coming the next week for Easter. As if God couldn’t handle all of us at the same time. As if He weighs out importance of needs. As if we have to qualify to take something to the altar.

Obedience. Obedience to His voice.

I went to the altar. I kneeled down and I literally patted the altar with my two hands, as if laying a tangible item down. I said, “Lord, here it is. I give this to you. Accomplish Your will. By Your Spirit. Not by force, but by Your Spirit. If You want that domain, I believe You will provide for it, and if You don’t, please speak to my heart to know. Lord, may You be glorified. It’s all for You.”

The next day, I felt like it was a long shot, but I wrote a letter to the owner of heathermeadows.com. I shared my heart, our vision and the Heather’s Blessed JouRNey blog. How foolish it seemed. I remember writing without a pause or a hesitation. It flowed by His Spirit. But as I sent it on to our broker asking him to forward it to the owners, a sense of embarrassment was upon me. However, even though I felt like we were in way over our heads, obedience and trust was before me, and I desired to walk in both. I hit send that Monday, March 30^th morning.

The following Thursday, April 2^nd, I was pulling out of the Wal-Mart parking lot after getting items to make my assigned dishes for Easter lunch, when I prayed that prayer again, “Lord, I pray you speak to the owners of the domain. It has to be by Your Spirit. Not forced, but by Your Spirit.”

It was about forty-five minutes before school was to let out. I decided to wait, not wanting to drive home and then back again since I usually have my bag with me, to work on something while I wait. I parked, got out my computer, opened my email and read the following message:

I was overcome. If anyone had seen me in that parking spot, they very well may have assumed someone had died. What an answer to prayer! I knew then that the Lord worked on our behalf.  It wasn't anything we could do on our own and the entire time God simply wanted us to reach out personally. I emailed back confirming that I was who I said I was.  From there we anticipated the next steps of making some type of agreement. Who would’ve thought?

Honesty, I was a little obsessed with checking my email the next day. Can you imagine? We were going to work something out!!! I couldn’t imagine what it would be! However, by about eleven, I knew I needed to be patient and wait. Brandon was off that Good Friday, and I really wanted us to enjoy our day without incessant email checking. We had to run a few errands before taking Gavin for his afternoon Pre-K class. There’s no better way to disengage than leaving your phone at home when you leave, so that’s what I did. We came back home while the kids were at school and watched a movie together.

Just before we left to pick them up, Brandon took our new puppy, Ruby for a little break outside. I decided it wouldn’t hurt to load my email real quick. Well, I did and I received this message (feel free to click on the center of the image to enlarge it):

You may imagine my heart sinking at those words, "So I won't sell you the domain.  I would never be able to sleep at night."  But it didn't.  When I read those words I thought, "Okay, Lord.  This is Your answer."  So of course I didn't foresee the remaining to fold out like it did!!!  I didn't make it much further.  "I will give you the domain for a promise."  That's the sentence that grabbed my gut, twisted it, and pulled me to my knees.  I barely got out the door. Brandon thought someone had died when I ran out screaming to him.  Actually, he recalls that even though he was the person who informed me of my Dad's passing, I didn't have a hysterical reaction as one would anticipate.  But this day, this Good FridayApril 3^rd, I was nothing close to composed.  I'm an emotional girl, but not typically as emotional as I was that day.

Brandon kept reading.  With every word I was overcome by the presence of God.  See, I've read several Mark Batterson books.  I've read the story of the crack house turned coffee shop Batterson and his church circled in prayer, that God made Himself known through His provision for it.  But I never imagined having and Ebenezers-type moment in my life.  I was brought to my knees, overcome, overwhelmed, by His presence.  This was my burning bush (Exodus 3).  #1, I knew this was Holy Ground for the presence of God had moved right before me.  It was only "by His Spirit" that this could happen and His Spirit was nearly tangible to me that day.  #2 I was in awe of His Glory, reminding myself how mighty and powerful He is, reminding myself Who He is.  #3 I knew this was a sign from God reaffirming everything He had spoke into my heart months before, everything I wavered in when it didn't appear like I thought it would, I knew this was the Lord telling me He is the One sending me and He is with me.

It's now been over two months, and I can't refrain from crying when I revisit it.  What would we have missed if we we had hushed the Small Voice leading us to reach out personally with our story?  What would we have missed if we would have given in merely because a date we set rolled around on the calendar instead of the Spirit of God? It's more than my mind can think or conceive.  Ephesians 3:20 NLT  "Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think."

The following Sunday, on Easter, I looked at my husband and whispered in his ear at the conclusion of service.  I needed to pass by, "I have to say 'thank you.'"  Brandon wasn't sure what I meant.  He smiled gently and let me pass through.  I made my way to the altar, knelt down and simply said, "thank you, Lord."  Oh, there were many more words to follow, and I eventually felt the strong hand of my husband grasp mine, and at that altar I laid down all of my planning and thanked Him for the creativity and love of His perfect plans.

Obedience.  Obedience to His voice.

Please visit us at our new online home, on our 16th Wedding Anniversary, this Friday June 19th!  Feel free to invite a friend!

We'd love to hear your Circled Prayer story too!  We invite you to comment below and share it to encourage others.

We look forward to sharing a little more of this story with you, and many more to come!

VISIT  www.heathermeadows.com  JUNE 19th 2015

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Inspiring Influence

Inspiring. It’s a big word. And so are the people I’ve introduced you to over the last several weeks. Wrapping them into a blog post seems too simplistic for the individuals they are, the lives they live, and the people they’ve touched. This last inspirational series blog post brings home the definition of inspiring.

Dictionary.com provides the following:

• to fill with an animating, quickening, or exalting influence: to influence or impel

British Dictionary definitions for inspire:

• to exert a stimulating or beneficial effect upon (a person); animate or invigorate

Word Origin:

• enspiren, "to fill (the mind, heart, etc., with grace, etc.);"
• enspirer , from Old French, "to prompt or induce (someone to do something),"
• enspirer from Latin "inflame; blow into",

One of the greatest, and yet deeply humbling of compliments I’ve been given over the years of sharing my story through personal conversations, public speaking and writing, is “You are so inspiring.”

I’m grateful the Lord has provided the days He has given me to continue living this life and I’m grateful for the people to share with where He has brought us on this journey. I’m humbled knowing it is not anything by my own doing, nothing I have orchestrated or accomplished, but it is completely by His mighty hand at work.

Why have others received inspiration from my journey? Because it has been written, directed, and kissed with the intentions, plans and purposes of my Heavenly Father. It’s what makes each one of our journeys inspiring. God uses His people to influence, to flame, to blow into, to prompt one another to become and to do all He desires, for us to live our lives to the fullest making the greatest impact for Him. These are the reasons I have written this series, sharing these people to inspire you and encourage you to inspire others.

It’s natural to assume I wouldn’t be who I am, nor sharing my life, eager to touch others, if it weren’t for one couple touching mine so magnificently spanning the last twenty-one years.

Steve and Michele Lee became my youth pastors in August 1994. I didn’t even know I was broken when I met them, but God knew I was to quickly find out, and He strategically put help in place before the storm began brewing.

My family had attended church all my life, but were never involved. I didn’t grow up knowing what it felt like to have a church family. Not until my parents decided to get plugged into a church closer to home. It was my first experience in a youth group, although it was quite small, only half a dozen students, and we technically didn’t have a youth pastor at the time, as Steve and Michele came a few months after we started attending.

This couple had a passion for youth. It was evident. They jumped in coordinating after-glows, which were social events after Sunday night service, ranging from pizza in someone’s home to bowling or putt-putt golf; and, weekly visitations, taking us to go visit students who were new to the youth group. Steve and Michele took us to summer youth camp, summer ski days at the lake, a back-to-school retreat where we floated the river and played during the day and had a service with worship, a message and prayer at night. Seems like a lot, but there’s more. They got involved in our schools, and we saw Steve regularly at our on-campus Bible club, he visited us at lunch, came to our sporting events, talent shows, and graduations. Steve and Michele took us to concerts, discipleship camp, mission trips, youth conferences and snow ski trips. A week didn’t go by that we didn’t have an opportunity to serve in our youth group or participate in a youth event, and this was on top of our weekly Wednesday night services!

It’s been said people bond through experience, and Steve and Michele definitely provided the experiences to bond with the teenagers they were called to minister to, growing the group to over two hundred students.

They were intentional.

How grateful I am for them. When the emotional trauma from Jon and my accident eventually surfaced, Steve and Michele were equipped with faith, the Word of God, and prayer to minister to me, speaking healing, vision and inspiration into my heart, into my life, into my bones.

Steve and Michele Lee threw a cloak over me. For years, I had the opportunity to serve in music ministry, singing on the youth worship team, which provided for an array of different experiences. Then years later, after Brandon and I had married and joined the youth leadership team, Steve asked me to take one of the Wednesday night youth services. I never thought of myself speaking; that was beyond my vision. But I did it, because they believed in me. They saw what I couldn’t see in myself, and continued to give me opportunities to grow in what God was preparing. Michele asked me to come speak to her 2^nd grade class, which I have done for about a decade now, and Steve plugged me in to speak through the abstinence program at several of the schools. A few years ago, when the Lord was carrying me through my nursing school studies, Steve asked if I would speak in one of our Sunday morning services. God has given me a variety of experiences to demonstrate His calling upon my life as a speaker, and He has used Steve and Michele Lee to illustrate it, as this ministry has been perpetuated through theirs.

This couple has been the most influential on my life. We share a bond. A bond created when I was just a young lady and strengthened over time. Those times have brought much change.

We’ve shared some trials, as we walked through many of my surgeries and also Steve’s own burn injury. They comforted us after our miscarriage and faced all four of our high-risk pregnancies with us. And we grieved the loss of my Dad together, Steve doing the most difficult, being the one who told my Mom of my Dad's passing.  Above all, our joys have exceedingly outweighed the sorrows. We’ve had the privilege of being a part of their lives as they started their family, watching their three little girls grow into beautiful young women, one in high school, one starting college, and one soon to get married. They celebrated life goals with us when Brandon finished his engineering degree and I, my nursing degree.  And the influence of their ministry continues on in our life, even today, as our lead pastors.

Remember your leaders who taught you the word of God. Think of all the good that has come from their lives, and follow the example of their faith.      Hebrews 13:7 NLT

Oh how I’ve followed their example. As a young teenager, I looked at Steve and Michele and I prayed the Lord would give me a husband like Steve and make me a wife like Michele. I desired my family to love the Lord, be passionate for His Word, and be obedient to His callings, to be real, relevant, love people, and choose happiness.

Steve and Michele Lee’s influence upon my life goes back to my parents and the decision they made over twenty years ago. When my parents chose to join the congregation, they chose to commit to a family. As we all know, families go through hard times. We’re not always going to agree with them. We’re not always going to feel important. Things may not go as we think they should. But it’s a commitment. We don’t bail in dry seasons. We don’t jump ship when waters get rough. We commit to where God has called us to be. Church is about serving. It’s an opportunity to give of ourselves. Yes, we get a lot. I’ve written about a portion of it here. But when our hearts are in the place of giving and not getting, then the measuring stick is gone, no one keeping track of who got what and who’s doing what. And then there is so much freedom and liberty for God to work creatively, beyond what we could think or imagine.

When we’re committed to a church, to serve in a body of believers, we walk away with far more than we could ever bring, one thing is a family.

The Lord uses people. He uses people to touch and influence us and He uses us to touch and influence others. Isn’t that awesome?! God who is all-powerful, holy and wise, uses those He created to create what He desires.

I pray you have been blessed by these inspiring people. I pray these normal every-day individuals illustrate that what takes each of us from being ordinary to extraordinary is the influence of the Holy Spirit working through us.

May you feel inspired to let your life be an inspiring influence to this world!

check out Michele's The Mrs. Pastor blog at http://themrspastor.blogspot.com

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Inspiring Joy

Have you ever heard someone laughing and, without even knowing what was being laughed about, you started laughing too? I have. The sound of laughter is downright funny. It’s a pleasant sound, an amusing emotion and is instantly contagious. There is one whose sound of laughter tickles me more than any I’ve ever heard--- it’s my mom’s laughter. My mom doesn’t let an opportunity for laughing pass her by. She will belt out a hearty laugh even if it’s not really that funny. Hearing her prompts an instinctive reaction in myself. I’m going to laugh whether I intend to or not. I’ll find myself questioning, “Why am I laughing? It wasn’t funny.”

It’s more than laughter. It’s inspiration.

It’s a trait I’ve hoped to express in my own life. A couple weeks ago I received a great compliment when we were at the soccer fields for a tournament with our oldest son Jaron. Getting our tails whipped on a muddy field, my cheers were laden with positive reinforcement. As with previous posts, I’m not a sports guru, but I don’t believe we “kick ‘em while they’re down.” That was when Brooklyn leaned over to me and said, “Mom, you know that character ‘Joy’ on the new Disney movie ‘Inside Out’?” I answered,“Yes,” because I’ve watched some trailers and we can’t wait to see it on its June 19^th release date, which so happens to be Brandon and my 16^th Anniversary; what a perfect way to celebrate. Brooklyn continues, “Well, while everyone has a ‘Joy’ in their head, I think your ‘Joy’ character is REALLY, REALLY BIG!"

[embed]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-kArxASiw3Y[/embed]

It was one of the greatest compliments I could have received from one who has observed me, studied me, and sometimes imitated me since she entered this world; my daughter. And it was a compliment that complimented the one who I have observed, studied and even imitated since I entered this world; my Mom.

My Mom’s laughter is a battle cry, an anthem to her God and a signal to the enemy that she is victorious, she is an overcomer, and not only has she won, but she still has what many people lose in a battle, her joy. My Mom’s joy is a reflection of her relationship with God.

Philippians 4:4  Always be full of joy in the Lord. I say it again—rejoice!

I Thessalonians 5:16-18  Always be joyful. Never stop praying. Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.

Always? It couldn’t really mean “always,” right?

תמיד, tamid, prounounced taw-meed, the Hebrew word for always, meaning constantly, ever, continually.

Could it happen? Is it true? How can it be?

My mom’s anthem goes something like this:

Susan Cochrane arrived to the scene of a tragic motorcycle accident. Her nine year-old son’s lifeless body covered on that nearby country road. When shock would overwhelm the mind to function, she surrendered to the power of the Holy Spirit Who gave her the strength to crawl into a helicopter with the burned and injured body of her daughter.

Susan Cochrane endured the unknowns of her seven year-old daughter’s injuries sustained from that accident; would she live; would she walk; would she have quality of life?

Susan Cochrane spent her life visiting doctors and therapists for her daughter’s rehabilitation, followed by visits for the care of her husband’s ailing body, as affected by diabetes and heart failure.

Susan Cochrane stood at yet another grave near her son’s, seventeen years later, burying her husband.

A widow at fifty-three, she experienced what it was, for the very first time in her life, to live alone. Even with the death of my brother, my Mom had had my Dad to crawl in bed and grieve together. Losing Dad provided solitude she was not accustomed to, nor desired.

Heartache. Grief. Emptiness. Desperation. Loneliness.

However, joy not sacrificed.

My Mom is one of the most optimistic, upbeat, enthusiastic, look-for-the-good, and hopeful people I know. And she’s my Mom! How incredibly awesome is that?! Not only do I know her, but I’m related to her, and I’m an heir to the greatest asset she could impart—her joy.

You may be reading this and thinking, “That is so special. I am so happy for you. God knew you needed that influence in your life for what life held for you, but I came from a bunch of negative nellies and I’m just inclined to think pessimistically.”

I’ve heard it said, “You can’t give what you don’t possess.” The Word tells us we all can live a life of joy! It’s a choice to tap into the abundant resources the Lord provides to us. Even better, it’s not contingent upon our circumstances. Being glad, having joy, living in peace are by-products of following the Lord and trusting in Him.

What a blessing I count it that I have had the privilege of seeing such joy lived before me, but if you haven’t, I pray my Mom’s Inspiring Joy, inspires you to live an inspiring life for all whom your life touches.

Romans 15:13  I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.

Proverbs 8:32  “And so, my children, listen to me, for all who follow my ways are joyful.

Proverbs 16:20  Those who listen to instruction will prosper; those who trust the Lord will be joyful.

2 Corinthians 6:10  Our hearts ache, but we always have joy. We are poor, but we give spiritual riches to others. We own nothing, and yet we have everything.

2 Corinthians 13:11  Dear brothers and sisters, I close my letter with these last words: Be joyful. Grow to maturity. Encourage each other. Live in harmony and peace. Then the God of love and peace will be with you.

Galatians 5:22  But the Holy Spirit produces this kind of fruit in our lives: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against these things!

Zephaniah 3:17  For the Lord your God is living among you. He is a mighty savior. He will take delight in you with gladness. With His love, He will calm all your fears. He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.”

Colossians 1:11  We also pray that you will be strengthened with all His glorious power so you will have all the endurance and patience you need. May you be filled with joy,

1 Peter 1:6  So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while.

Philemon 1:7  Your love has given me much joy and comfort, my brother, for your kindness has often refreshed the hearts of God’s people.

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Inspiring Strength

President Reagan declared fifteen major disasters in 1981. It was the same year the Hyatt Regency hotel’s walkway collapsed killing over one hundred people, leaving over two hundred injured. And it was in 1981 that the mysterious death of Natalie Wood occurred. It was a tragic year for many, my family being one.

“You were the only good part of 1981,” so I’ve been told. It was the year I was born. It was also the year my Grandma fell, breaking her hip, the year my Grandma Cochrane underwent a mastectomy and the year my uncle passed from leukemia, only a week after my birth.

What a time to come into a family; when loved ones are recovering, facing unknowns and grieving. There was too much sadness to celebrate.

Or was there?

One of the things I’ve learned from my family is that times of struggle are opportunities for increasing strength. The very time surrounding my birth was consistent with that truth; and the thirty-three-year-old woman who was burying her husband at that time has demonstrated inspiring strength to me, literally since the day I was born.

How much can one person take?

It’s a question I’ve asked many times when looking at the trials others walk through. Thirty-four years into this life has given me an unshakeable confidence. Confident in the truth: walk with Jesus; walk victoriously. He handles our unbearable circumstances, our trying seasons, our overwhelming moments.

That sounds like an easy statement from someone who appears to have a bed of roses life. However, I gained that insight, not from watching everything go “right” in life, but from watching one mountain climb after another.

There are things difficult to imagine; like losing a spouse, multiple miscarriages, unfaithfulness, burying a baby, breast cancer, brain tumor. Any one of them would be enough to do someone in. But all were had in one life. My Aunt Donna’s life.

I always knew my Aunt Donna was strong. After all, she gave me the “Tough Cookies Don’t Crumble” t-shirt when I was in the hospital. There was a strength I had to live up to. Asking, “Am I strong enough?” was merely rhetorical. Strong women are what I come from.

Those times in life when I’ve questioned my ability to withstand difficulty, I’ve revisited the image I took in at ten years old, reminding myself God is our strength when we have none. Perhaps the weakest one could ever feel, standing at a grave, a tiny casket lowered into the ground, picking up a piece of the earth and as it’s released to fall below, letting go of the little life, only fifteen months lived. She had no strength of her own that day, but God did. I stood by her and felt Him there.

It should have been enough loss for a lifetime. Unfortunately, in this imperfect world we live, this world we were never created for, there was much sadness to endure. Personal observations were avoided due to her move over six hundred miles away, nevertheless my awareness of her strength only grew.

Phone calls not only informed me of her breast cancer and then brain tumor, those phone calls also provided encouragement to hold on to our faith, unwavering in hope and assurance that He would provide. Yes, you read that correctly. She encouraged me! Even when we were prepared to hold her up, she remained solid and stood strong.

I look at my Aunt Donna today. I’m a bit taller. She’s a bit older. But I still see that woman I nearly idolized growing up.

It isn’t hard to see why I adored her so. It’s not surprising I bought her perfume after she moved just to have a scent of her near, or that I loved jewelry and fashion and fine dining because of her influence. It’s easy to understand my desire to grow up and become a woman like her...pretty, smart and classy.

A master’s degree in education; over thirty years teaching in some of the most high-performing school districts; numerous awards and recognitions. The proof is in the pudding. She’s not held in high opinion by her niece alone. No, she is a game changer, recognized by all who have the privilege of knowing her. And it is for those who don’t that I write this post, that you may be encouraged by her inspiring strength, as I have been since those days back in 1981.

Isaiah 40:29 ESV

He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength.

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Inspiring Friendliness

It’s easy to be friendly to people who are like us- people who think like we do, act like we do, and believe and value what we do. What measure of friendliness do we show when it’s the opposite?

These thoughts came to mind recently when my daughter took a step of kindness and complimented a girl she is not very fond of on an outfit she was wearing, only to receive an insult in return as the girl responded, “Oh well thanks, but your shorts don’t really match your shirt and your shoes don’t go with it either.” In my flesh, I was so angry my daughter put herself out there to someone who was so rude. And on top of that, it was an instance my daughter was trying to stretch herself to be friendly to someone she had difficulty showing friendliness! In the end, Brooklyn and I both ended up having some growth in our character from that situation as we prayed for this girl.

In the time following, Brandon and I were reminded of the harshness of humans when we set down with our redbox to watch The Imitation Game. Our opportunities to catch a movie on our own, are rare. It’s a film that released in the fall of 2014, about the life of Alan Turing and his work during World War II developing a machine to crack Germany’s Enigma code. His machine known as “Turing machines” laid the groundwork for development into what we all use in our homes, set in our laps, and even carry in our pockets. Computers.

I know. You’re probably thinking, “What a legacy!” It certainly is. Subtitles at the end of the film acknowledge his legacy saying, “Historians estimate that breaking Enigma shortened the war by more than two years, saving over 14 million lives.”

But it is another subtitle that we see the tragedy of this story. “Alan killed himself in 1954, after a year of government-mandated hormonal therapy.” And then we’re informed, “ Between 1885 and 1967, approximately 49,000 homosexual men were convicted of gross indecency under British law.” One website writes, “It’s one of history’s awful ironies that the general public found out Turing was gay, by way of an indecency trial brought by British authorities, long before they found out he was largely responsible for outsmarting the Nazis.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S5CjKEFb-sM

World War II is a meaningful time in history for this family. It’s part of my genealogy. My paternal grandparents met during WWII. My grandfather was stationed in England where he met a tall red headed Brit, who became his wife. My Dad was born in Leicester on July 6, 1944. A year later he and my Grandma Cochrane boarded the Queen Mary and set sail for their new life in America, in Tulsa, Oklahoma to be exact.

That war is a part of my beginnings, a piece of my heritage. And what I received from that war was a couple who met and had a baby who would become my father and demonstrate friendliness to all walks of life, alike and different. Watching the story of Mr. Turing, emphasizes the character of my Dad who was born during that period, who displayed friendliness to all people. It was something I watched first hand.

My Dad understood the passage in Luke 7:36-50. He identified with that sinful woman who wet Jesus’ feet with her tears, wiped them with her hair, kissed them and poured perfume on them. Luke 7:47 NLT, ““I tell you, her sins—and they are many—have been forgiven, so she has shown me much love. But a person who is forgiven little shows only little love.”

A week before my Dad passed away, I was back in the burn center recovering from another surgery. Dad and I weren’t what I would consider to be normally physically affectionate. When I was younger he’d always hold my hand, and kiss me before I’d get out of the car for school, even at that adolescent age when kids try to avoid it. So it’s not that we never displayed affection, but we were reserved I guess you could say. But this particular night I wanted Dad right next to me. I asked him to come set on the bed with me. Keep in mind he was a large man, making it difficult to share a small space. Nevertheless, he maneuvered onto the bed and I asked him about a story I had never heard before, “Dad tell me about when you accepted Jesus. I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before.”

My Dad proceeded to tell me he was on a business trip, as was common when we were young. His work as a successful salesman required much time on the road. One evening he grabbed some fried chicken and a six-pack of beer, went back to the hotel, turned on the television and began to receive God’s Word through that screen. Now years of seeds had been sewn, but a harvest came in that evening when my Dad kneeled down in the solitude of a hotel room and asked the Lord to forgive him of his sins, come into his heart and be his Lord and his Savior.

My Dad died one week to the day after sharing that story with me.

Was it coincidence? Not at all. It was divine. I knew my Dad. I watched the spiritual journey he took. I observed him in his challenge of Romans 7:15 NIV “I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do.” My Dad became a Christian later in life, and while we saw many moments of struggle, as is normal for new Christians who are growing in their spiritual maturity, I had the privilege of seeing his friendly nature touch many, many people. My Dad planted seeds and ministered to people that some Pharisees would be repulsed by.

Through his tax and accounting business, we had a clientele of ministry. The majority of our clients were bars, including gay bars and strip clubs. We did their bookkeeping and payroll, providing all of their tax and accounting services. I remember Dad hanging a prayer cloth in our waiting room. One lady who worked in a strip club had come in for us to do her personal income taxes. She sat there at a table we had in Dad’s office and she said, “I don’t know why, but every time I come here I just cry.” And it wasn’t because she was disappointed with her refund! Dad told her, “That is the presence of the Holy Spirit moving on your heart.”

I have such admiration for my Dad. Yes, he could be so hot headed, difficult to work with, difficult to please. He could yell, holler and carry on like none other. At times his fuse was shorter than any firecracker. But oh how I admire my Dad. He was incredibly intelligent. He was outside of the box. He looked at people as people. My Dad even had some critics at our church for the work he did, or rather the people he chose to work for. But that didn’t stop him. He continued to serve in our church and minister outside of it. And our Pastor took many opportunities to pop over to our office when a client there was wanting more than business information, but counseling, compassion and guidance.

I am so proud and so grateful for the legacy he left me. He was a friendly guy. And it was so genuine. And it was non-selective. Dad had been forgiven much and he wanted all people to know the grace and mercy God had given to him. Dad genuinely cared for people, alike and different.

Even now, nearly ten years after his death, I’m inspired by his friendliness to all people.

It’s what we keep saying to the kids, “Show yourself friendly.” No matter what. No matter who. Inspire Friendliness.

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