Rising Waters

A situation that occurred recently had my husband and me sitting on our back patio in tears.  Brandon looked at me and said, “Why is the enemy attacking our family?”  We seek the Lord to have His hand upon our lives; upon our children; upon our home.  We are intentional to teach and follow His ways.  The instruction in Deuteronomy 6:5-9 has been a life application, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.” In our flesh, we can’t help but ask “why?”  When the core integrity of our home is threatened, it’s difficult to not ask “why?”  Or question ourselves.  What have we not done?  What have we missed?  When we mistakenly feel that situations are within our control, we feel like failures.  But God has given us wisdom to know that that is exactly the way the enemy wants us to think and feel.

We believe I Peter 5:8, “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.”  I know the potential our family holds for the Kingdom of God is a threat to the enemy.  I know attacks come where we least expect it and literally knock our feet out from under us, as did recently.

In these times, we rely on that solid, unwavering foundation.  We cling to what we know.  We don’t cower in defeat, resorting to staying under the enemy’s radar, so to speak.  No, we boldly stand with confidence that God is in control.  And He knows exactly what need, exactly when we need it.  I melted in God’s presence Sunday morning as our worship team led us in the song, “Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)” by Hillsong.  Phrases like, “in oceans deep, my faith will stand;” “Your grace abounds in deepest waters, Your sovereign hand will be my guide;” “I will call upon Your name and keep my eyes above the waves.” But the one that has taken me to my knees was, “Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders…”

My husband and I acknowledge the deep waters.  And it is here, in this place, where there is no limit to our trust in our Almighty God.  Whether circumstances are within or outside of our control, we trust God.   We pray for healing.  We pray for forgiveness.  We pray for complete restoration.  We pray and we trust.  Where we are weak, He is strong.  In this great unknown, He is here.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dy9nwe9_xzw]

Joy for Mourning

We had a celebration on Saturday. Our youngest child, Gavin turned four. Friends and family came to his pirate party and enjoyed a time of swimming, snacking, games, gifts and laughter. It was a fun day. When birthdays roll around in our home we spend some time reflecting on the actual birth day. Even on my own, my Mom will reminisce back at specific times of the day which mark moments of my birth.  The time the nurse walked in and mentioned the big family who were having a party in the waiting room with donuts and coffee, and you guessed it, that family was ours; the time they wheeled her back to the operating room for her scheduled C-section, the time they woke her up and told her she had a baby girl. My Mom just beams when she speaks of the day of her child’s birth.

As joyous as Gavin has made our lives, unfortunately, his delivery was anything but. At 35 weeks gestation, I began having stroke like symptoms. I described these in my post, A Meaningful March. July 11th 2009, we were on our way to Oklahoma City for my best friend, Amber’s bridal shower. This woman has been my friend for 20 years. She was my maid of honor, and I was serving as her matron of honor. And considering that, I felt terrible that I didn’t want to go. I just didn’t feel good, but was ignoring it in order to be there as I should for my dear friend.

As the story goes, we didn’t make it to Oklahoma City. My husband took me to the hospital despite my protest. Upon arrival, the labor and delivery nurse instructed me to put on a hospital gown and leave a urine specimen in the restroom. I did the latter, but had every intention of going home to allow my baby more time to grow; therefore, the hospital gown stayed neatly folded at the foot of the bed. The perinatologist who saw me and delivered all of my children, came in and explained his plan to induce labor, and deliver our baby. I begged him to try something else which would allow little Gavin more time. My doctor delicately informed me that if he allowed me to even get up to use the restroom that I could seize and risk my baby’s death and my own death. I knew that despite every intention I had to prevent another one of my babies from going to the NICU that that is exactly what was going to happen.

Lying there that night, with my Pitocin and magnesium running, tears ran continuously. I looked at the clock the entire night, and I prayed and prayed. What I requested of the Lord was what I needed most. Peace. I asked Him to give me peace when the NICU team took my baby. I asked Him to prepare me for the situation and the emotion I would experience. I knew what lie ahead. It was something I never imagined when we went through it the first time, five and a half years earlier with our second child, Jaron. I simply wanted to feel okay with the unnatural, but necessary process of my baby being whisked away.

Is anyone surprised to know that God did indeed answer my prayer? Approximately thirty five hours after arriving to the hospital and a sufficiently difficult delivery, my Gavin made his entrance into the world. At 6:32 a.m. Monday, July 13th 2009. He was a scrawny little 5 pound 4 ounce, 19.5 inch long baby. And I was completely at peace as he headed to the NICU. Due to being on magnesium, I didn’t see him until about twelve hours later, but I had supernatural peace through it all.

What makes this story so incredibly special for me is, obviously, the fact that it’s about the day one of my little miracles came into the world, but that it’s also about God using one of our most difficult times to give me a personal passion for the care our family benefited from, twice. Our two NICU experiences were a night and day difference. The attitude and climate had changed drastically between our first visit with Jaron and our second with Gavin. I knew when Gavin was born that God’s plan was for me to become a nurse. The Lord began stirring that in my heart two months after Jaron was born. But I had no idea that the NICU would be where I was to minister. Not until our experience with Gavin. A seed was planted in that time that had me prayerfully explore the possibilities of becoming a neonatal nurse.

I marvel at the awesomeness of God. For how mighty and powerful He is. For how holy and righteous. How magnificent. And in all His majesty, He speaks and moves, and uses us in our humanity to accomplish His plan. My joy is infused from the fact that my Heavenly Father used one of our saddest moments to get us to where we are today. The fulfillment and sense of purpose today came out of a time of helplessness and sense of failure. It is so true, He makes all things good!

Isaiah 61:3 “and provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the LORD for the display of His splendor.” (NIV)

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Let Your Little Light Shine

My Grandma passed away one year ago today at the age of 90.  She lived the last several years of her life with the effects of Alzheimer’s.  Because of her confusion, and need for twenty-four hour care, she went into a nursing home in the Fall of 2009.  From the time she entered the nursing home, I began to pray that the Lord would take her home, to eternity. You see, I grew up right next door to my Grandma.  Some of the nights I stayed with her we’d sleep at the foot of the bed with an open window allowing the breeze to blow in our face.  She made me pancakes every morning for a year; one of the reasons why I’m not a big pancake fan today.  I had my fill early in life.  She allowed me to drive down our dirt roads when I was about ten.  And she taught me how to make homemade applesauce.  I could write a book alone about all the times I had with my Grandma.  For all these memories, I am overwhelmingly grateful.  But one of the tragic things about Alzheimer’s is that you experience multiple losses.  You are constantly observing the mental and physical decline.  You lose your loved one, as you knew them, little by little until their death.  And no matter how much you wanted them to be free from the disease, the permanent loss of their death is difficult.

I would have never chosen for my Grandma to live the last three years of her life in a nursing home.  But God had a plan for my Grandma.  In addition to my Grandma’s memorial service, we had a separate service at the nursing home for her.  The chaplain from Grace Hospice focused on Jeremiah 29:11, “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”  He pointed out that this verse holds much excitement and encouragement for high school graduates who have their entire lives ahead of them, but what about those at the end of their life?

I had the gift of watching the Lord use my Grandma.  Despite her confusion and decline, her light shined brightly for Him.  Grandma became very close to a 34 years young resident battling multiple sclerosis.  This young woman claims Buddhism as her faith.  Nevertheless, she entered my Grandma’s room and, at Grandma’s request, the woman read the Bible to her.  And she did it several times a week.  My family believes Isaiah 55:11, “so is My Word that goes out from My mouth: It will not return to Me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.”  This sweet young woman read to my Grandma, and my Grandma displayed Christian love in a nonjudgmental manner; no condemnation, no accusations; just love.

God had a special plan for my Grandma.  We know He has a plan for all of us.  But sometimes the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cleaning and mowing, the runny noses and crazy sport schedules, the bills and fender benders along the way, get us so distracted from the fact that GOD HAS A PLAN!  And what’s better is that it is as unique as we are.

In his book In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day, Mark Batterson writes, “Lion chasers don’t let what they can’t do keep them from doing what they can.”  My Grandma could not even get up to go to the restroom, but she didn’t let that stop her from allowing God to use her.  It’s not about what WE can do anyway; it’s about what HE can do through us.  If God has given us the breath to breathe then He most certainly has given us the opportunity to be used for Him.  Matthew 5:14-15 says, “You are the light of the world.   A town built on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven.”

Let’s not let our circumstances predict how bright our light shines.  Whether we are mistreated, unappreciated or misjudged our light can shine because after all, He’s got a plan, and it’s an amazing one!

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Bottled Tears

“There are worse things in life than death.”  That is a statement I have heard my Mom make many times.  I didn’t really understand the significance of her words as I recall the first encounters of her making them.  But through the years, I knew what she meant and I knew that those words were her sense of peace. My Mom showed up to the scene of my brother and my accident over 25 years ago now.  Her senses received the reality of immense tragedy.  Smoke.  Fire.  Wreckage.  And amidst it all lay her little boy’s dead body.  There was nothing within her power to change what took place there.  Nothing she could do would bring him back.

How does one process an incredible loss?  How does one begin to cope?  I know that my Mom’s walk with God carried her through that unimaginable pain and grief.  I also know that she was at peace knowing my brother was at peace.  In a time that no one could have ever anticipated or prepared for, it helped to look for the goodness, even when it seemed there was none.  That goodness was that my brother Jon did not suffer in his death.  Jon’s days were full. He had a life of quality, despite such short duration.

I find myself confronted with this scenario in my career as a neonatal nurse.  I have observed such unfair realities of mommies and daddies faced with losing their baby.  My heart breaks, between my sympathy for the family and my compassion for the baby.  There are times their little bodies are put through so much, with every effort to save their life.  Where is the line between saving a life and a peaceful passing?

An article featured in Advances in Neonatal Care, titled “What Neonatal Intensive Care Nurses Need to Know About Neonatal Palliative Care,” explores this ethical issue. “Advocating For a Dying Baby, Assessing and Managing Pain in a Dying Baby, and Helping Parents Say ‘Goodbye,’” are just a few of the twenty-three items identified as providing good palliative care in neonatal nursing. But what left an impression on me was that although 40% of graduating neonatology fellows “felt well-equipped to discuss predictions of morbidity and mortality and treatment options, they felt less well trained to address the more emotional and social issues related to palliative care, such as discussing families’ spiritual and religious needs.”

When there is nothing within our power to change the circumstance, what need is higher than those emotional and spiritual? There is no black and white.  But there is prayer.  And I pray over each of the babies I care for.  A recent assignment had me specifically praying for quality.  It’s a prayer fueled from those words spoken by my own Mom; my Mom who knew that there was a God greater than her grief.  He held her as He does her son, as He does the babies and their precious parents who say goodbye.

Psalm 56:8 (NLT) “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.”

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Thank You

High school football games were quite the event every Friday night in our hometown.  My high school didn’t reach 5A until my senior year.  But even before that, we had a pretty snazzy 4A team.  I remember back to my sophomore year in high school.  My parents and I went to every single game.  We weren’t going for anyone in particular; no relatives on the team or anything.  We were simply a part of the community and it was a way to show our support and involvement. As much fun as we had, I’ll never forget something that use to spark a bit of irritation in me.  It was when the game would get down to the wire so to speak.  We’d either need a field goal, or some game saving play.  One of the players would start waving his arms to get the crowd to cheer.  I wanted to say, “Hey, that’s the cheerleaders’ job!”    Nevertheless, we’d all, already standing to our feet start to scream even louder declaring our praise and reassurance.

It’s the same kind of feeling I get when I watch award shows and the recipient makes the comment, “I’d like to thank my fans.”  It just sounds so boisterous and somewhat conceited.  It’s for that very reason that I’ve never really liked the “follow” link on this blog. Who wants to be a follower anyway?  Didn’t we all get the message about being independent and having leadership qualities?

Regardless of the lingo, we know that these are all ways for us to express our support, to give our approval, to provide our encouragement.  It’s a way for us to state: “I believe in what you’re doing;” “I agree with what you say;” “I want you to keep going.”  These are the blessings that I have received from you, my precious readers and commenters.

I could have never anticipated what God had in store for this blog.  It was and is a daily step of obedience to open my life and share with you all.  This is vulnerability and humility like I’ve never known.  It’s so easy to put our confident and sometimes, even prideful faces on for the world.  It’s another thing to strip it away and share those hidden insecurities and inadequacies, those most heartfelt thoughts, deepest prayers and magnificent visions.

The words posted and messaged to me since Heather’s Blessed JouRNey, got up and running six months ago are treasures.  Like the one from Michelle, who went to school with my brother Jon.  She commented on 25 Years Later.

I still remember seeing the smoke from my house that day… I think of Jon often and remember what a special friend he was to me. Even though I was only 8 I remember that he would never let anyone go without a treat on bake sale day. I remember asking him if he was really sure if he had enough money to be buying everyone treats. He just smiled and said, “of course I I do.” He lifted everyone around him up. If I was having trouble with school work or just having a bad day he would give me that smile of his and make my day brighter. You are so much like him: warm, kind, and gentle. Jon was so willing to love people just like you!! Love, Michelle

Or the one recently, from Kim, a friend from high school.

Heather, I'm sure you get this from everyone that follows your blog...but I have to tell you how much I love reading them! You never fail to either give me chills or make me cry. You touch my heart every time. I want to tell you what an amazing woman you are and how you are such an inspiration. You have gone through so much in your life, and still you appear to be one of the happiest people I know. You have such a heart of gold. On the other hand, I must tell you what a freak of nature you are! I'm putting you up there in the rare category with Erika Cheatham...you two are the only two that just keep getting prettier the older you get! How do you do that?! It's not fair! Lol! ;) Anyway, it was weighing on my heart to let you know what a beautiful person you are inside and out. You can't say that about many people but I feel you are a genuine woman. I'm honored to call you my friend. And those lil nicu babies are lucky they have you to care for them :) xoxo

I share these to show that when we follow God’s will, even if we’re concerned that people will think we’re crazy, even if we’re inhibited to share those things we keep hidden; that our blessing will be far greater than our sacrifice.

How could I not return to give my very simple offerings?

John 15:5 (NIV) says, “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.

I am absolutely nothing without Jesus.  My efforts writing here are in vain without Him.  My work as a nurse is futile without His anointing.  My role as a mother is ineffective without His guidance.  My commitment to my husband is empty without His love. He is everything and He makes something of anything I give to Him, as evidence by your gracious support of my humble contributions.

Thank you! Thank you, for reading so faithfully.  Thank you, for sharing with your family and your friends.  Thank you, for taking a moment to post those invaluable comments.  Thank you, for giving back to my life, more than what I’m sure I could have ever given to yours.

Bless you, readers!

Because of your support, I've had the privilege to share with....

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God's Unpredictable Plans

This past Wednesday appeared to be another run-of-the-mill kind of day.  The alarm went off at 4:30 a.m. and my hubby and I proceeded with our work day routine.  We headed out the door, in different directions, to jobs we love and feel blessed to have. But the day wasn’t another ordinary day.  It was a significant day in our lives, for it was the one on which we wed fourteen years ago.  However, it was the first one we celebrated having completed goals we set so very long ago. My husband and I met in August of 1996, we began dating in the winter of 1997, we got engaged in the fall of 1998 and we married in June of 1999.  We were so very young, but couldn’t have been more certain that God intended for us to spend the rest of our lives together.  We had such beautiful dreams, such important goals, such high expectations, and such great desires to accomplish it all together.  Being a person who values tradition and respects order, I wanted to see us go to college and graduate before we got married.  Nevertheless, we bucked tradition and proceeded with what we knew was God’s timing for our life.

Our decision to marry at eighteen years-old was met with an understandably large amount of resistance.  Our parents were anything but excited.  They were deeply cautious and sufficiently objectionable on our behalf.  They completely had our best interest at heart.  They wanted the best for our lives and typically that involves postponing such an event to a more appropriate and socially acceptable age. We knew it would be easier to wait.  But we knew the path God was leading us would have far greater reward than the easy street.  And come to find out, it did and it does.

I spent most of my growing up questioning if anyone would want me.  I grew up wondering if I’d ever be able to have children.  There was nothing I wanted more than a family, and the Lord didn’t let me wait.  My emotional agony had lasted long enough.  God gave peace to my spirit when Brandon requested I marry him.  And I found my greatest confidence in becoming a Mom to Brooklyn, Jaron, Caden and Gavin.  There’s no accomplishment that compares to the one I have in being their Mom.

And there I was at work on Wednesday afternoon, June 19^th 2013, taking my lunch break, to eat a quick meal with my husband.  We celebrated our fourteenth anniversary in the waiting room on the fifth floor of the Children’s Hospital at Saint Francis.  And believe it or not, it couldn’t have been more ideal.  God brought this amazing man into my life, blessed us with four miracles, and He used those experiences to call me to do the work I was doing that very afternoon as a nurse in the NICU.

There are times our life may not follow custom.  It may not get the approval and support from those we love and respect.    We may be faced with sacrifice, with unpleasant conversations, with uncomfortable moments.  But if God plants a vision in our heart, if God calls us to do the unpopular or the difficult, then He will give us the courage and determination to follow His will.  It is He and He alone.  And when we live a life to please Him, He irons out the rest.

We’re living our “happily ever after” with a very supportive family, because we dared to follow God’s plan.

The Lord says, “I will guide you along the best pathway for your life. I will advise you and watch over you. Psalm 32:8 (NLT)

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Strong Dads

Our small group class just completed a book by Meg Meeker, Strong Fathers, Strong Daughters.  We didn’t anticipate the length of time it took for us to get through the book; however, it was very fitting that we concluded it on Father’s Day. We spent the last several weeks reading and discussing topics surrounding young girls and the crucial role dads have in forming and molding them into confident secure women.  The book emphasizes the importance our husbands have in our daughters’ lives and also the importance our dad had in ours. My Dad was no doubt a “Strong Father” and I pray I honor his investment into my life by striving to be a strong woman.  My Dad had a sense of humor that was incredibly witty.  He had such a way of making people laugh.  My Dad was a giver.  On more than one occasion he stepped in and paid a few of our client’s auto insurance policies; he’d help people out with a utility bill; he gave away a car to a family in need; he treated people to dinner all the time.  My Dad was a hard worker.  He didn’t have any hobbies, which made it challenging to be close to him.  His work was his life, and if we could be a part of that world, then we got the benefit of him being a part of ours; which had its pros and cons.  More pros.

Dad passed away on August 29, 2005.  I cannot believe it has been almost eight years.  After he passed, my Mom and I kept our family accounting business running until we sold it.  I remember sitting at his desk and hitting a road block.  Instinctively, I reached over, picked up the phone, and before I dialed realized that he wasn’t there to answer my questions anymore.  It was perhaps one of the scariest feelings.  I was married with two small children, but I had such security in knowing that I could still consult my Dad when needed.

There are days, like today, that I feel so sad my Dad has missed all life has brought us over the last eight years.  Caden was born a year after his passing on August 15, 2006.  How much I wish Dad would have been in the waiting room to celebrate Caden’s arrival, as he was for Brooklyn and Jaron.  I know he would have been ecstatic to see Brandon graduate from Oklahoma State University with his Bachelor of Science in Mechanical Engineering in May of 2007; and then to have been here to welcome Gavin into the world July 13, 2009.  Last year, I longed for his presence to watch me walk the stage as I graduated from the University of Oklahoma.  I was 31 years old, just finishing my degree, but I know he would have been so proud.  After all, he was the first person in his family to graduate from college at the age of 30 from Northeastern State University with a business degree.

Fittingly, today, we celebrated Father’s Day attending the Broadway musical, Disney’s The Lion King.  I woke up thinking about my Dad this morning, and felt such comfort when the show opened up with the powerful song, “The Circle of Life.”  There I was, sitting beside my husband, amongst our amazingly healthy and strong four children, and I thought….

“This is our time.  Our time to give to our children, to mold them into the people God intends for them to be; to plant a desire in their hearts to honor their Lord with all of their being.  Thank you, Lord.  Thank you, Lord that my parents gave that to me, and help me in all my inadequacies and shortcomings to give that to my children.”

It is a circle.  We get to take all the good we received and pass it on to another generation.  My Dad would have done a lot of things differently, I know because he expressed that openly, and I identify with that thought.  But what’s hopeful about a future is that we choose the part we get to put into it.  We can’t control the future, but we can control how we deal with it.  I learn from the mistakes of my Dad, and I aim to carry on and pass on the goodness that was within him.

Today was about dads and I feel like my children have the best.  My Dad would be so proud of his grandchildren’s father, and that is perhaps the greatest testament to his life.  He was a strong father, who raised a strong daughter, who chose a strong husband, who is raising strong children.  That is a circle, friends!  And it is beautiful!

Ecclesiastes  3:1 ”There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens.” (NIV)

A beautiful song by Mercy Me portrays the emotion I feel when I think of my Dad. [youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zvhrPMJe8LE]

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Trust in You

I am a planner. I like to know as far in advance as possible what I’m going to be doing. Before I even finish a task, I am mentally planning and plotting the next. I try to keep these thoughts tucked nicely inside my mind and pace sharing them; otherwise, I completely overwhelm my husband. He gets tired just listening, and I think my kids probably do too. Nursing school stretched me in the department of flexibility, no doubt. And it’s a good thing, because I can’t see how anyone can be a nurse without being flexible. We never know what the day will hold and we just have to roll with it and face it as it comes.

We all know though, that life is full of things we didn’t plan for; even if it is minor inconveniences. Like making a special trip to the local hardware store only to find that they are out of the one item you needed, or getting called in to work on a day you planned to spend with your family, or having the dryer go out when you have seven loads of laundry, two of which are already wet. These things happen all the time and it really puts a dent in the planning.

But what about when it’s not a minor inconvenience, what about the times that it’s completely devastating?

After finishing the first semester of nursing school, we had three of our classmates who were expecting. We teased that we all handle stress differently. A fun joke for our class that was exceptionally close. These babies were a celebration and sweet anticipation for us all. All three of the girls were due within about a month of each other. The first baby due was sweet Emily, Katie’s baby.

Katie went for a routine appointment a week before her due date, checking out just right. However, throughout the evening, Katie noticed that Emily was not moving around; mindful of those ever important kick counts. She went to the emergency department in the middle of the night. A short time later, in labor and delivery, Katie received news that she wasn’t prepared to hear. Her precious baby had died in utero from a cord accident. Katie had to proceed with delivering her baby and doing something no one plans to do; making funeral arrangements.

Most of our class attended Emily’s service. We grieved for our friend at the unfair reality of this imperfect world. But I personally, stood back through that season with complete admiration for this young woman. Katie pressed on in nursing school and she graduated from the University of Oklahoma with her bachelor’s degree in nursing. And she did it without delay. Katie walked that stage with all of us; the same group with whom she began that journey.

I thought of my friend recently while visiting with a patient’s mom. We had her fifth baby in our unit and although her baby was considered non-critical, it was absolutely devastating to this mother the events that had taken place surrounding her baby’s birth. She had planned to have this baby in the manner that she had her other four children; vaginal birth, no complications, straight to breast. However, she had to have a C-Section due to decreased fetal movement; the baby had a nuchal cord. The mother continued to explain to me, in floods of tears, that she wasn’t able to feed her baby. She was absolutely heartbroken that her baby received the first feeding through a nasogastric tube.

It’s all a matter of perspective. This mother never even imagined giving birth to a baby and it not going as planned. But it doesn’t always go the way we think it will. But it’s not about us, it’s about the baby. This is exactly what I thought several months ago when I asked about the delivery of a distant relative of ours. I was told, “Oh, Heather. She was a rock star. She did it without an epidural or any medication.” Really? Does that mean that the mom who was hospitalized, under observation, on bed rest for six weeks and then rushed in for a C-Section isn’t a “rock star?”

I have to say, that I take my hat off to all the moms who do whatever is within their power to safely give birth to their baby. We all know that life doesn’t always go as planned, and that includes minor and major events. These are the times that we rely on our trust in God. Do we trust Him only when things make sense and go according to what our minds can comprehend? Or do we trust Him no matter what, at all cost, at all loss? Of course it’s easier to turn our trust over to Him when life is sweet, but what about when it’s unfair, unkind, and confusing? This is where our faith is at work.

I leave you today with two scriptures I pray challenge you spiritually and bring you comfort and peace.

Proverbs 3:5 “Trust in the Lord with all your heart; do not depend on your own understanding.” Psalm 34:1 “I will bless the Lord at all times; and His praise shall continually be in my mouth.”

Mommies Enduring Neonatal Death ~ MEND  

*special thanks to Katie for permission in publishing this post~ a strong young woman who is willing to share her heartache to help heal others.  To read more about her and her journey, visit www.emilysmomy.blogspot.com

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Worth Fighting For

There is a chore that comes along when the weather turns nice. It seems to require more time than we ever want to give, but it’s almost classified as mindless activity. And that’s why I don’t mind it too terribly much. It’s mowing. My husband and I have a routine when it comes to the yard. I mow; he weed eats. I kind of enjoy the time to sit on the John Deere. Several years ago we sold our boat so we could purchase a commercial zero-turn mower. This was a wise investment considering we mow nearly three acres. And even though we never seem to have enough time, I like “having to mow.” It’s something that has to be done, and the time I spend sitting there allows for a roundabout bit of peace, in light of the rumbling sound of the mower.

The thoughts that came to mind yesterday were centered on my marriage. As anyone knows, if you start a home improvement project, there’s likely to be a fight. Well we started a few; several months ago. We added on a closet, remodeled our bathroom, and put in a pool including an outdoor kitchen area. Those are huge blessings that we keep thanking God for, and at the same time, in our flesh and humanity, we found ourselves arguing over the details.

Now, I have two friends who have told me they never fight with their husbands, and I truly believe them. Brandon and I strive to be good examples, inspiring to our children and those around us, but we fight. Not on a daily basis, that would be incredibly exhausting and heart breaking, but we have disagreements and arguments that we face, confront and resolve. Some times are easier and quicker than other times, but nevertheless, we resolve it.

I don’t want to be a disappointment to my readers, but I want to be real with each of you. I wouldn’t want anyone to hold me on a pedestal and assume that my life is perfect, that my attitude never needs adjusting and my lips never say things I regret. I’m human, and so is the man I’m married to, and there are times we really irritate each other.

My heart becomes so heavy because I wonder how many people have blow-ups with their spouse and they think they have a bad marriage, when in all reality they have a very normal marriage. Two people who spoke into my husband and me, profoundly, were our small group leaders. Larry and Joan Lichlyter led our marriage and family class the first ten years of our marriage and they shared absolute truths that are the rock we stand on when we become clouded with the pettiness that tends to creep into relationships.

One truth is found in John 10:10 (NIV),“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” It is essential to remember that satan is our enemy and not our spouse; and it is satan’s desire to destroy our marriage. A scripture that comes to mind is John 16:33 (NLT), “I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” Anything that brings glory to God is going to come under the attack of the enemy. Know that in this world, our marriages are going to face tribulation, but Jesus has overcome the world, and therefore, our marriages have too.

My husband is my greatest blessing. I can’t imagine living a day without him, but rest assured, there are days I’ve thought I couldn’t live with him either! The most effective tool we have when we’re mad, hot headed, angry and full of steam is to humble ourselves, hold hands and pray together. There is absolutely nothing that defuses a situation faster than prayer, and doing it together works miracles right there!

I pray that opening up this, not-so-sunny side of life encourages some hearts to love beyond measure and guard the gift God gave you at the altar of marriage.

Be blessed and enjoy making up--- however you deem fit!

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Victim or Survivor

Recently at work, I received some words of affirmation and encouragement.  Do any of you relate to feeling uncomfortable or awkward in receiving verbal praise?  Don’t get me wrong.  I love to receive positive reinforcement, but for a person who is rarely at a loss for words, I just never know how to respond. Nevertheless, hearing those sweet compliments blessed my heart, my confidence and my development in this new career.  I said to my husband, “Sometimes I wish I could see me the way others see me.”  As soon as I said it, I said, “Well… maybe not.”  Brandon replied, “That’s right, because although some people see the best in you, there are others who won’t have very positive opinions of you.  That’s why we should ask the Lord to help us see ourselves through HIS eyes; not our own and not others.”  I couldn’t agree more, but this led me to reflect on different times in my life that individuals spoke into me at pivotal moments. One that comes to mind was when I was in the 8^th grade.  My English teacher compared my attitude to the exceptionally positive attitude of Anne Frank.  She told me that when I walked into a room that it lit up.  Those words were spoken to me almost 20 years ago, and still yet, I’ve never forgotten them.  I couldn’t see that in myself, but I felt a sense of responsibility to her opinion of me.  It’s helped me to maintain my effort to deter from negative speech and a mopey disposition when I’m around others.  Even in those crummy days, I aim to not let it affect others.

Another period of my life that molded my character and attitude was, unsurprisingly, when I was injured.  I remember hearing people repeatedly describe me as “a brave little girl.”  The truth is I felt anything but brave.  I experienced feelings beyond fear; complete terror to be honest.  I had confusion and anger; moments of disbelief; a sense of unfairness.  This perhaps was my first memory of wanting to uphold someone’s positive opinion of me, because despite the depth of fear and uncertainty I had, I felt a responsibility to be brave.

I tell you all of this because, in all reality, I didn’t possess the strong characteristics of what was said of me; those were spoken into me.  As I heard how others viewed me, it gave me aspirations to truly be that individual; it gave me character goals, so to speak.  And this boils down to my thought for this post.  It’s that of victim versus survivor.

There are numerous times in life that we’re faced with undeserving circumstances; unpleasant situations; unwarranted conditions.  But those are the times that our character is developed; those are the times that we grow closer in our walk with the Lord and learn more about ourselves than we knew.  It is for this reason that I cringe when I hear the label, “burn victim.”  I say that there are burn patients, burn survivors and sadly, burn victims, but I am not a victim, I am a survivor and overcomer.

Those going through difficult times come out stronger than ever before.  There is a resiliency that cannot be trampled.  There is strength that cannot be weakened.  We have observed this in the inspirational stories from the recently tornado stricken town of Moore, Oklahoma.  My daughter is spending three days with her youth group serving that community, and I know that she is going to observe survivorship first hand; she is going to see strength beyond measure with her own eyes.

You may not be facing the aftermath of a tornado, or the rehabilitation of a severe injury, or the grief of death, but you may be facing a storm.  You may feel weak and helpless.  You may feel scared and overwhelmed.  But I challenge you to see yourself through your Father’s eyes, and consider the message that you can speak into others by their observation of you.

I feel led to leave you with seven scriptures on strength.  Take one a day and speak it out loud over your life this week. Meditate on these words and know that you have the strength of a survivor and overcomer and an attitude that can withstand any negative circumstance.

Day 1~ God arms me with strength, and He makes my way perfect. Psalm 18:32 (NLT) Day 2~ He renews my strength. He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to His name. Psalm 23:3(NLT) Day 3~ The Lord gives His people strength. The Lord blesses them with peace. Psalm 29:11 Day 4~ God is our refuge and strength, always ready to help in times of trouble. Psalm 46:1 (NLT) Day 5~ My life is an example to many, because You have been my strength and protection. Psalm 71:7 (NLT) Day 6~ My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; He is mine forever. Psalm 73:26 (NLT) Day 7~ The Lord is my strength and my song; He has given me victory. Psalm 18:14 (NLT)

http://servemoore.com/ https://moore.recovers.org/

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A Meaningful March

A question that I was asked frequently toward the end of nursing school was, “Where are you going to work?” Some seemed surprised when I responded, “In the NICU at Saint Francis.” First of all, I was a burn survivor and second of all, I promoted Hillcrest Medical Center with my burn survivor story. But there are many stories that make up my life and who I am. One alone does not define me or guide me. Every experience contributes to the person I’ve become and the work I desire to do. As passionate as I am about burn care and the compassion, drive, sensitivity and motivation that burn care nurses provide, my eyes were opened to a whole new world in December of 2003. My first son, Jaron Michael was my biggest baby, born on December 23rd weighing 7 pounds. To our disbelief, Jaron was in respiratory distress and was taken to the NICU at St. John where he was intubated. Forty eight hours later, he was extubated and we were anticipating a quick transition to home. However, we were unaware of the common need for phototherapy and IV caffeine.  It was a heart wrenching process.

Despite every intention to avoid another visit to the NICU, that is exactly where Brandon and I found ourselves when our fourth child, our third son Gavin Lee, was born on July 13th 2009. I had a sudden encounter with some very disturbing symptoms. I lost part of my vision, had a bout with expressive aphasia followed by dysphasia, then transitioned into receptive aphasia. My husband rushed me to St. John Medical Center; I was admitted, and started on the dreaded magnesium sulfate. Once the symptoms had subsided and I was faced with the fact that my baby was going to be delivered five weeks early, I lay in bed and wept, knowing the inevitable. I prayed for the Lord to help me accept that once again my baby would be whisked away by virtual strangers and I would not be able to be with him.

These encounters developed my heart for this area of care. And today I get to do for other babies what I so desperately wanted to do for my own. I support these babies and their families through my work and my walk. For a girl who wasn’t supposed to live, and then wasn’t supposed to be able to walk, and who wasn’t supposed to be able to have children, I get to live and walk with my children for other babies and their families. And that is exactly what we did last week.

Every year we set a $500 March of Dimes fundraising goal; a hundred dollars for each baby. You see, we have five babies in our hearts. We had Brooklyn, and then miscarried our second baby, we had Jaron, our first NICU baby, then Caden, and then came Gavin, our second NICU baby. There is a personal drive to support moms in growing healthy babies, and in helping sick babies get well. It’s all pretty simple, but intricate too.

Our fundraising for 2013 came to $585! Thank you to all who gave support. Every donation, big and small, makes a difference. It made a difference for our family and it makes a difference to this nurse.

How precious is your unfailing love, O God! All humanity finds shelter in the shadow of your wings. Psalm 36:7 NLT

Thank you to our sponsors! Allison Bacon, Mindy Beasley, Stephanie Bennett, Betty Bermudez, Misty Berryhill, Natalie and Donnie Clyma, Susan Cochrane, Court and Lisa Dooley, Margaret Edmonson, Rob and Amanda Emery, Gayle Foster, Sherry and Tim Kelley, Robin and Kirby Meadows, Renda and Nathan Rapp, Emily Forth, Lezlie Glass, Elizabeth Herber, Lori Kelly, Jammie Kern, Megan Lindsey, Kayla and Felipe Martinez, Julia Morrison, Kristy and Greg Morrison, Brandon and Athena Rainbolt, Trevor and Amber Randall, Ray and Emile Tucker, Channing Wedel , Teddy and Denise Wyatt.

March of Dimes Mission

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I Love You, Mama!

I wasn’t home with my children for Mother’s Day, but I spent the day so thankful that my children were home. During my time at work in the NICU today, my heart went out to the mamas who had their babies in the hospital. Some situations are heartbreaking . While we see many happy endings, there are still those that are extremely sad. These times adjust my focus. I become focused on the simplicity of my life. My children walk and run and play without a thought in the world. They are healthy and active; they are happy and even mischievous. They throw their arms around my neck so tightly and say, “I love you, Mama!” I don’t want to take it for granted, because so many moms would give anything and everything for those invaluable gifts.

My thoughts encompass those daughters who live without their mothers. So many have to say “goodbye” too soon. Some lose their mom during that season of life when their children are small. Some women don’t have their mother when they’re getting married, and some even experience that void before they ever graduate from high school.

Today, I offer up my thankfulness for my children and for my mom. What I pass on to my children has been planted into me. My mom, who taught me to choose my friends wisely; and that although I may not be friends with everyone, that I could be friendly to everyone. She demonstrated to me how wonderful it feels to make others feel wonderful. She spoke those words, “pretty is as pretty does,” and “beauty comes from the inside.”

What would I do without my Mom? Funny to say, but I know. I’d continue to strive and be the kind of mom to my kids that my Mom was and is to me. I’d display strength beyond measure as she displayed to me. I’d live my faith in God, and not just speak it, as was her example before me.

It’s true that every day is a gift. If you were able to wish your Mom a Happy Mother’s Day, or if your children were able to wish you one, consider it a gift. These moments we spend together are precious and they can never be recovered. Soak it up and pray for those who can’t.

And may the Lord make your love for one another and for all people grow and overflow, just as our love for you overflows. I Thessalonians 3:12 (NLT)

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Happy Nurse's Day

Nine years ago I felt the Lord stirring my heart.  I continually said, “I know He wants me to do something that I’m not doing right now.  I just don’t know what it is.”  For some reason, I visited the OU College of Nursing website and printed some information on the program.  One day at work I told my Dad, “I think God may be calling me to be a nurse.”  My Dad’s response was, “Why would He do that?”  I had a great set up.  I never had to leave Brooklyn who was three and Jaron who was just three months; I either took them to work with me, or worked after they went to bed.  I had fabulous benefits, a secure income and flexibility.  What more could I ask for?  But there was a lot to ask, because life would drastically change in the next year a half.  My Dad died suddenly on the morning of August 29^th 2005.  At the time, I was in the burn center recovering from another round of releases and skin grafts.  That night, I lay in my hospital bed and I said, “I’m going to nursing school.” I could have never anticipated everything the Lord had in store for me when I finally had the opportunity to begin that journey in the fall of 2010.  I only applied to one program and that was none other than the University of Oklahoma College of Nursing.  I’ll never forget getting my letter in the mail April of 2010.  I waited for my husband to get home, which added to my Mom’s anxiety.  We all sat in our living room and I gave Brooklyn the envelope and asked her to open it and read it.  She was 9 years old.  Brooklyn started at the very top, “Heather Renee Meadows 37531 East…”  We all interrupted her and told her to skip down a little. After she read, “we are pleased to inform you,” that was it.  We all erupted in cries of celebration.

That summer of 2010, my dear friend Heather and I rode to the school and tried on scrubs. We had a glorious time.  Then when classes began, it was nothing less than a whirlwind.  Those two years in that program were some of the best in my life, but the hardest, most challenging too.  I never spent a day there that I didn’t feel privileged to be a part of it all.

My very first day of class I met a woman who had a contagious enthusiasm for nursing.  She intimidated me, but intrigued me.  She challenged me, but cheered for me.  She was the champion of her students.  Our time together in Clinical I and II set an unshakeable foundation for me and an unwavering passion for this profession of nursing.  On graduation she gave us a key chain that had a phrase she spoke into us every moment she could.  It said, “Remember, You Need a Nurse to Save Your Life! Love Mrs. B-Dub”

A year ago, I had the honor to receive my Bachelor of Science in Nursing from the University of Oklahoma.  My entire family worked for that accomplishment and they carry pride in what I do with my life each day I go to work. My inspiration comes from so many.  Like my nurse Lois, who cared for me in the burn center 25 years ago and then traveled from Florida to watch me walk that stage. She understood me and calmed me those times I was intubated when I tried to speak. Kelly who was there to see me at Pinning gave care that was always loving, even though it couldn’t be delicate.  Vicki came for my graduation party and she was with me long ago on a night I nearly lost my right leg from a clot after open heart surgery.

Then I have my neonatal experiences.  Our second visit to the NICU in July 2009 we had Noreen.  She connected with me as a mother.  She simply wrote her name on the board and identified with my need for a list.  She wrote out the goals my little Gavin needed to reach before we could expect to take him home.  Noreen gave me security by acknowledging my instinctive nature and drive to care for my baby, and she let me do that in any way that I possibly could.  I relinquished control to her because I trusted her.

Stepping into my role as a neonatal nurse, I have developed endless amounts of admiration for my co-workers.  It began with Donna, my preceptor during my nurse externship in July 2011.  She was a natural teacher and her demeanor was a magnificent blessing to me.  Last summer in 2012, I spent ten weeks being oriented for my job with Carrie.  She was quick, organized, and calm.  She just knew how to get things done and the best way to do it.

As we celebrate Nurse’s Day, I have to pay tribute to these amazing nurses.  Nursing is love.  I can’t imagine a greater way of touching someone’s life than in their time of need.  It’d be impossible to remember every patient, but every patient may remember what a fabulous nurse you were to them—I sure do!

I Peter 4:10 Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God’s grace in its various forms.

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25 Years Later

When I Google “anniversary” beaucoups of definitions pop up; like, “the annually recurring date of a past event, especially one of historical, national, or personal importance.” Anniversaries roll around causing recollection of the day’s events.  It’s one of the things that make wedding anniversaries so special. Today marks the 25^th anniversary of a past event of personal importance.  This day never rolls around without some recollection of events, but this year is a milestone, this year, my mind is being flooded with memories both tragic and uplifting.

I’m remembering that beautiful spring day, April 27^th 1988.  I remember the sun shining. Records indicate that the high was 75 degrees with winds at only 5 miles per hour.  My brother Jon and I got off the bus that afternoon and I’m sure did our little chore list that my Mom had on the fridge.  Although it doesn’t stand out in my mind, I’m sure we did them, as was routine for our after school activities.  What I do remember is putting on my play clothes; my shorts and t-shirt and those ever so popular 1980s jelly shoes.  I loved mine, and had them in a few different colors.

I remember Jon and me standing in front of the shed behind my Grandma’s house.  The driveway beside our house wrapped around the back of my Grandma’s and there was a shed and storm cellar right behind her house.  Jon filled up our blue two-wheeler motorcycle and then we proceeded with our plan to visit our friend’s house.  We anticipated no harm on our nearly 3 mile ride away.  We felt so big to see our friends on our own will and at our own convenience. After some time, Jon said it was time to go and we swung our legs over that bike, revved it up, and headed back home.

On that country dirt road there was a factor present which was not present before.  The travel back coincided with travelers returning home from work for the day.  Jon pulled out onto the road behind a small red truck.  The dust stirred up from the truck made it so difficult to see.  My arms were wrapped tightly around Jon’s waist and I turned my head to my right, attempting to avoid the dust that stung my eyes.

It was such a challenge to see.  No goggles.  No helmets.  We were just two children, innocent to the danger that surrounded us.  Jon swerved to the left and all life changed forever.  We hit an oncoming truck.  Jon was killed.  The bike went under the truck.  A fire ignited.

I remember lying in the ditch as flames engulfed me.  I don’t remember pain from my body being on fire.  What I remember is the blur in the flames.  It distracts me to this day when I become mesmerized by the bright colorful light fires produce.  I remember my face feeling unbearably hot.  And I remember someone grabbing me under my armpits from behind and dragging me out of the fire.  That man was my first hero.  That man was the first person who took action to save my life.  It just so happened to be the man we hit.

For the memories being so choppy, I still have a bank of them.  I don’t remember the helicopter ride to the hospital, but I do remember telling my Mom that I wanted to go home.  I remember feeling that if I could just get home that it would all be okay.  She told me that we were going to see the doctor and then we would.

I remember being in a tiny room in the Alexander Burn Center at Hillcrest with a multitude of stuffed animals and posters around me.  Someone put a turquoise My Little Pony on the far left shelf for me.  Those little tokens were a small part of the many gifts I received from my injury.  Yes.  I said gifts.  And the greatest of those were the intangible kind.

Something about tragedy brings out the purest, most kind parts of people. For instance, my Dad’s brother stood on the left side of my bed and promised to take me on a camping trip when I got better.  He made good on that promise.  I remember that big red heat lamp being positioned over my bed in ICU and one of my doctors, on a few different occasions, holding my hand through those excruciating bandage changes.  I remember my brother, Barry and his friend, Chris coming to watch Wheel of Fortune with me.  I remember Barry bringing the entire collection of Alf dolls that Burger King featured.  I remember my friend Brad coming to visit me in ICU.  Brad was our neighbor, and like a brother to me, even more so after I returned home from the hospital.  He had his head shaved to match mine on that visit to the burn center.  He was the only kid allowed to come see me while in ICU and it was perhaps the greatest gift the staff could have given me.  His small amount of time with me reconnected me to who I was—a kid.

So many times I am asked if I remember that day.  Oh how I remember that day and many others.  But I wouldn’t change that.  I wouldn’t want to forget.  If I forgot how bad it was, then I’d lose sight of how great God is.

Memories can be painful, but comforting as well.  We can’t appreciate where we are if we don’t remember where we were.

O Lord, I will honor and praise Your name, for You are my God.  You do such wonderful things!  You planned them long ago, and now you have accomplished them. Isaiah 25:1 (NLT)

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Proud Emotion

I’m sure it comes as no surprise to say that I’m a crier.  But it’s not all inclusive.  I’m not one to shed tears at Hallmark commercials.  I'm not a big fan of tear-jerker movies, and I don’t lose it at every wedding or funeral.  However, when it comes down to classifying, I have to be put in that category.  I’m just an emotional person and when something touches my heart or comes from my heart, I frequently get choked up. The assumption could be made that since I’m aware of this that I’d be prepared for it or that I’d embrace it, but I’m not and I don’t.  I seem to never have tissues in my pocket or purse, and when I begin to get that lump in my throat, when my nose starts to burn and my eyes start to water, I tend to try and contain it, to hold it back.  I can’t even imagine the faces I make in my attempts.  Why I even try?  I don’t know.

This past Thursday I had “A Mom Moment.”  I was so overcome with pride that those tears were uncontainable.  Our school system has a Student of the Month program.  Two students from the highest grade at each school, elementary through high school, are chosen for this recognition.  The two students’ names are on the marque for their particular school throughout the month, the students have a place to display items that represent them in a case at their school, are recognized in an assembly, featured in the newspaper and treated to lunch with their principal and superintendent, among others.

Our second child, our oldest son, has always been what I would describe as very intuitive.  We’ve been told countless times from his teachers that he is very bright and quite intelligent.  He’s always felt comfortable mingling with adults and expressing his thoughts.  He wants to know the “why” and “how” of things.  He is diligent, competitive, and confident.  We’ve had several discussions with him about showing respect, because when he thinks he is right, he has been known to try and correct his teachers during lessons.

With this strong personality also comes a very sensitive and compassionate nature.  Our son never has a problem speaking his mind or expressing his deep emotion.  He gives and receives love with a kiss, a hug, a pat on the back.  Finding his balance between his intellectual ability and acceptable behavior has been the challenge.  Therefore, when we received the letter that said our child was chosen for Central Elementary Student of The Month, we were ecstatic.  And he was honored with the award this past Thursday.

During the luncheon, our son’s principal read a little bit about him.  His favorite subject, his favorite book, his favorite activity were among the topics, but what gripped my heart was what he wanted to be when he grew up.  Mrs. Dotson said, “Jaron says he wants to be an engineer when he grows up because his Dad is an engineer.”

I should have just let the tears fall, but I tried to contain myself.  So many times we tuck our kiddos into bed and feel like we just got through another day.  They got to school in clean clothes, hopefully with their teeth brushed, we got the homework finished, dinner on the table, practice or games completed, showers, laundry, dishes, shoes collected, school notes signed, and kisses goodnight.  We don’t always stop to think that our children might just want to be like us when they grow up.

The pride I had over my son was immense.  He had achieved not only the academic acknowledgement but the recognition of his character.  And in his moment, I was reminded of Titus 2:7, “And you yourself must be an example to them by doing good works of every kind. Let everything you do reflect the integrity and seriousness of your teaching.”

In our everyday in and out lives, we are preaching the greatest message to the greatest generation- our children.

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Goodbye Bailey

There was no coincidence that it was raining this morning.  Although it was a steady light shower, it felt like more of a downpour. I bathed my 13 year old lab this past Monday and could feel, not only the tumors she had had on her side over the last three years, but that now she felt emaciated; able to feel her skeletal structure as I lathered her coat with shampoo.  My mom made a statement that struck a chord.  She said, “I can’t believe you’re letting her live like that, Heather.  My goodness, you should know.  You’re a nurse for heaven’s sake.”

I don’t know that being a nurse had anything to do with it, but it was evident that my husband and I were in denial as to the current state of our dog’s health.  We couldn’t bring ourselves to discuss the issue.  Even though we consistently had to clean up accidents, which she didn’t even know she was having, we just didn’t speak of the end.  Even though our dog declined food, scratched the door to come in and out and in and out from confusion, and was challenged with mobility from arthritis, we simply did not communicate letting her go.    That is, until this past Monday when I called to make an appointment with our vet for today, Saturday April 13, 2013, to discuss these issues regarding our beloved pet.

A flood of emotion accompanied the words as we begin to give an account of our dog’s condition.  And that emotion only continued as we proceeded with what we knew was inevitable…. saying goodbye to our Bailey Ann.

We took her into a big room and spread out our big blanket that she loved to lay on when we have movie night.  I gave her treats as she relaxed on the blanket with us.  The vet delicately and lovingly gave her a shot to make her sleep, and then came back to administer that last shot.  I snuggled her and repeatedly told her, “I love you, Bailey.”

We carried her to our car and brought her back home where she belongs; with us.  On that drive I reminisced of the beautiful spring day that my husband and I went to get her.  Our sweet dog never completely lost that playful puppy spirit.  Her body deteriorated but her spirit never did; which is what made it so hard to let go.

In the thirteen years we had to enjoy Bailey, she welcomed home all four of our children and guarded them as if they were her own, she survived being run over four times, she graced the photo of every Christmas card and she greeted us each time we pulled in the driveway or walked in the door.  She was a part of our family before we became a family.

We close a chapter as we bid farewell to our precious pet.  I should only be filled with joy to have had the blessing of such an amazing dog for so many years. I imagine there will never be another like her, our Bailey Ann.

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A Place To Belong

When I applied for nursing school the three areas of interest that I wrote on my application were labor and delivery, neonatal intensive care, and burn care. Throughout my clinical experience I eliminated labor and delivery. One of the reasons was that I simply was drawn to intensive care settings, I believe because of my experience as a patient in intensive care. Another reason is that I desire to give care throughout a long term process, to see bad situations progress into great ones; them going home! Labor and delivery was too short of a time frame for me; patients deliver and they leave. My only way of gaining insight into where I needed to be for the long haul, was to get into those units for some experience. I had received burn care as a patient, and two of my four children were admitted to the NICU, but being on the side of the bed as a patient and as a nurse are very different worlds. Spending some time in each of these areas as a nurse extern allowed me to gain understanding and truly know where I would be the greatest benefit to my patients.

In the summer of 2011, I did an externship in a neonatal intensive care unit. My first day was undoubtedly one of the worst I had experienced throughout all of my clinical experiences. Being a nursing student is a very humbling experience. I chased after many nurses as they sped down hallways; I stretched my ears to listen to helpful information because it wasn’t always generously offered; I was avoided as if I were a cultured bacteria; I was called “student,” rather than being called by my name. Of course this is a compilation of unpleasant experiences, but none compare to my first day externing in a unit that I was so eager to get exposure. What makes it sad is that it was the actions, and demeaning comments, from one individual that qualified it as “the worst.”

My time to reflect on that Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, has stirred many thoughts and convictions. I will never belittle or intimidate a person to feel superior. I will not negate teaching moments in order to imply that what I know is far above anyone’s learning capability. I will never outgrow Ephesians 4:32, “Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Because of such instruction, I can set this behind me, gaining the lessons, and moving forward in kindness, compassion, forgiveness and love.

One thing that is great about having a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, is that it makes the others not seem so bad, and it makes good ones seem fantastic! Which is exactly what I experienced on my first day of my current job; returning to the same unit as a new employee. Conditions were not ideal. I arrived to find out that my assigned preceptor was out for the day, but I had a beautiful smiley co-worker snatch me up. Unfortunately she got called to go on a transport call, but yet I had the pleasure of briefly learning from another co-worker, who was as equally friendly and welcoming. A couple of hours later, another blessing arrived. The nurse that was called in for about half the shift poured into me step-by-step instructions. She even shared with me a special moment; my first time to write, “HMeadows, RN!” And the day ended with yet another opportunity to meet a new face. A nurse, my co-worker, came in for the last few hours of the shift. She too, took many opportunities to explain anything she felt would be beneficial for me, and she continually checked on me to see if I needed help.

To add to the joy, my manager kept popping in delivering what I felt were like house warming gifts. She gave me my log-in for the computer, my key to the supply carts, a code list for all the doors, and my own locker. I amusingly made comments about my locker. I’ve heard people say something to the fact of having “a place to hang your hat.” Well I now had a place to put my bag, and that made me feel at home. After all the places I traveled to find where Nurse Heather belonged, I was finally home.

Four different faces blessed my day. Many more contributed to my feeling welcomed and a part. And all of these instances brought to mind John 14:2-3. “My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.” Isn’t that what we all really want? Is to know that there is a place for us? That we belong somewhere? Isn’t it awesome to think that we don’t have to have credentials behind our name to have a place in eternity? Isn’t it absolutely fabulous that we’re not just getting a locker, but a room?

In the meantime, I’m grateful that perseverance is a part of character, and that on the other side of any unpleasant circumstance can be a world of acceptance. We get doses of that now, but it pales in comparison to the acceptance that is in store for us in eternity.

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Hold You

This past week I cared for a baby who wanted to be held. The baby is experiencing a long stay awaiting repair of a tracheoesophageal fistula and esophageal atresia. While nursing care was a necessity, so was a little TLC (tender, love and care). I spent two days singing, playing pat-a-cake, and even giving a wagon ride. But if I did one thing, it was quite simple, just hold. The same intervention was applied to a baby across the hall who had been made NPO after being on full feeds. That little one was almost inconsolable, except when swaddled and held. Yesterday morning, our third child, Caden woke up and came downstairs. With his sleepy head, he went straight to his Daddy sitting in the recliner, and opened his arms. At six years old there was no better way to start the morning than in his Daddy’s arms being held.

All of this reminded me of when our daughter was little. She picked up on a phrase that derived from a question we asked her frequently. We would ask, “Do you want me to hold you?” Therefore, when she started communicating her needs to us, she would hold her arms up and say, “Hold you.”

I don’t believe we ever outgrow the need for that peaceful comforting feeling we get from being held. There have been countless times in my life that I needed to feel the presence of the Holy Spirit hold me, and I did. And it is because of this beautiful day, this Resurrection Day that I have felt the Lord’s embrace.

In John 14 verses 15-21 Jesus said, “If you love me, keep my commands. And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another advocate to help you and be with you forever— the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept him, because it neither sees him nor knows him. But you know him, for he lives with you and will be in you. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you. Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me. Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will realize that I am in my Father, and you are in me, and I am in you. Whoever has my commands and keeps them is the one who loves me. The one who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I too will love them and show myself to them.”

Our Heavenly Father has such an overwhelming love for us. And He wants to hold us… every day. We are not alone. We are not orphans. It’s our choice to start our day like my little Caden did with his Dad; to go straight to our Father with arms open wide and soak up that peace, and love and comfort He so freely gives.

Be blessed as you feel Him “hold you.”

~~~ a worship song that so beautifully expresses our desire to be close to our God~~~

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NI_1YliutzA

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Practice Makes Better

We’ve all heard the phrase “practice makes perfect,” but really?  We know it doesn’t.  I wish there were more of a ring to “practice makes better,” because in all reality, that is the truth.  We get better the more we do something.  We never truly attain perfection. When I commit to something, I give it my all.  When I chose to walk down the aisle and marry my best friend at eighteen years old, I did with a “no backdoor” mentality.  I was committing my life to that young man rain or shine.

When I chose to bring a life into this world and become a mother, I did it with reverence and honor.  I pray for the Lord to grant me wisdom and patience, knowledge and discernment in forming and molding the precious lives He has placed in my care.

When I responded to the call placed on my life to become a nurse, I did it with dedication, giving only my best in my studies and clinical experiences.  This continues on in my professional development.  I desire to work full time to gain the experience I need in becoming a better nurse.  I joined a professional organization to have resources for research and up-to-date information. And I am intentional in building relationships with co-workers who I admire; knowing that their mentorship will yield great results for my tiny patients.

Some tell me this desire to be all that I can be will pass, but I know deep within my soul that it won’t.  I never started any of this as an ego trip or emotional high.  The time I spend in my life is all because I’ve been called to do what I do- as a wife, as a mom, as a nurse.

This isn’t to say that everything has gone smoothly.  No.  There have been days that my husband and I have slammed doors, and days that I have screamed at my children.  There have been days that I didn’t feel I was good at anything I touched.  But it never meant that I wasn’t doing what the Lord wanted me to do.  And I had to remind myself of that just a few months ago.

I was taking care of a baby who had an IV running in the saphenous.  The leg started looking puffy, so I stopped the fluid and began to investigate other sites to start an IV.  This baby had some anomalies, so it was difficult to find a good vein.  I enlisted help, and after five tries, we finally got one.  It flushed sluggishly.  In the grand scheme of things this baby needed a PICC, but my night shift resources were limited, so I was encouraged to use it and keep a close watch on it.

With all diligence, I cared for that IV site, but during my time spent drawing morning labs on the other two babies I was caring for, this baby’s IV infiltrated and left an IV burn.  Despite hyaluronidase injections, this baby ended up with a wound that eventually required surgical depridement.

I hold myself completely responsible for that incident, and it continues to break my heart.  I feel that my little patient paid the price for having an inexperienced nurse.  Looking back, I wish that I would have refused to use that IV.  I wish that I would have demanded we do something different, because in the end, the nurse practitioner decided to just discontinue the fluids saying the infant was getting enough via tube feedings.

This situation undoubtedly made me re-evaluate my career as a nurse. It made me question if I heard correctly from the Lord.  And as great as my God is, He used people to speak words of healing and encouragement to my heart.  One of those was my manager who communicated to me that it was my lack of experience telling me this is was my fault.  That the more experience I get the more I will realize these things happen.  Her taking time to speak those words reminded me of Proverbs 11:25, “A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.”

As much as I intend for that situation to never happen again, I know that others may.  I know that regardless of how much experience I get that I will never be perfect, but I’ll do everything within me to do better and to continue everyday doing better.

Joyce Meyer said, “God’s as interested in the process of a vision as He is in the end result.”  So even in those days that we don’t feel like we’re doing anything well, know that He is at work.  Know that He is making everything better, even us!

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Behind the Title

Teasing was considered a love language in my home growing up. If anyone knows my oldest brother, Barry or knew my Dad, then you know how quickly amusing moments became. That sense of humor gave me quite the feeling of acceptance this past week. Another nurse and respiratory therapist were teasing me about how I got teary eyed after a delivery a few weeks ago. See, the NICU attends a lot of deliveries and many of those babies we are able to assess and take to newborn nursery. That's the good news. But it's surprising to me how many families are NOT present at the newborn nursery window oohing and awing over their newest addition.

One particular night, we went to a C-section, caught the baby, assessed, ID'd and transported to newborn nursery. Dad accompanied the baby as usual, but when the nursery nurse opened that window there were a slew of people with cameras and smiles and tears pointing at their greatest little treasure. That brand new baby. It warmed my heart, because sadly enough, not all babies are received in that manner.

Well, to make light of my sensitivity, my coworkers teased me this last week about the deliveries I attended; asking me if I was going to get choked up and so on. Silly girls. This progressed on to joking about the way I tend to look for the good in conversations or situations.

I really felt like I belonged. It was those light hearted interactions that only people have when they're comfortable with one another. Like my crazy family did. But it got me thinking. What wires me to look for the positive in things? And that again, goes right back to my family. My parents were two of the most positive people I've known.

My Mom & Dad instilled in me, at a very young age, not to focus on the negative. We can see the obvious and accept reality, but we don't let it become our focus. This mentality is reflected right here on this blog. It’s where the “blessed journey” stems from.

I learned early what makes a person "blessed." Is it all the wonderful things that happen in one’s life? Is it a faithful spouse or obedient children? Is it financial prosperity or career advancements? No. While these all are definitely counted as blessings, those circumstances don't determine if we are indeed blessed.

Psalm 139:5, “You go before me and follow me. You place your hand of blessing on my head.” A blessed life is knowing that we have a loving God who is with us through the good times and bad. No circumstance we face is unfamiliar to Him. That is security! It is actually the unpleasant times that make me realize how blessed I am, to know that I’m not alone and that I will make it through. When we can find the good in situations, the benefit, the lesson, the opportunity for growth, then it's impossible to not feel blessed. And that knowledge affects our outlook. It’s the basis for a positive attitude. It’s joy and happiness regardless.

Be blessed in your journey.

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