Like a Good Neighbor

Mark 12:28-30 NLT

28 One of the teachers of religious law was standing there listening to the debate. He realized that Jesus had answered well, so he asked, “Of all the commandments, which is the most important?”

29 Jesus replied, “The most important commandment is this: ‘Listen, O Israel! The Lord our God is the one and only Lord. 30 And you must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and all your strength.’ 31 The second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ No other commandment is greater than these.”

Now isn’t that something to take in? Think about it. Loving your neighbor is as equally important as loving the Lord? Does this mean just the neighbors who live to the right and to the left and those neighbors who are directly across the street? Only those who keep their lawns manicured and there parties quiet? I certainly hope not, because that would mean number one, I’m excluded from this commandment, and number two, I wouldn’t receive the benefit of this commandment. Is it because The Meadows have been known to let our yard get out of hand a time or two, or because we typically have loud parties with the music blasting?

While some may agree that it should be, it’s actually because we don’t live in a neighborhood. This country girl doesn’t have a next-door neighbor, but I have neighbors. Those of us in rural areas consider anyone within a few miles to be a neighbor. And after the experience we just had, I’m seeing a great illustration of what Jesus meant when He commanded us to love our neighbor.

Yesterday morning was like every other. The dogs woke up and needed to go outside. Brandon let them out, but kept checking to see if they were back at the door since this wintry storm was moving in and the temperatures would be falling. We expected them to do their business and come in for breakfast, but they weren’t around. Not ones to worry, we figured maybe they had gone down to my Mom’s or to visit our neighbors, Eric, Shirley and Jordan. They’re quite social, so we weren’t alarmed, just a little surprised since we had recently had them groomed, meaning they didn’t have as much insulation against the weather.

Although we figured they were out chasing rabbits or running the fields, our concern began to grow with each passing hour. Even if they’re out all day, they’re always home by dark. But not last night. And that was not a good sign.

Brandon, Brooklyn and Jaron loaded up and began driving around, shining flashlights, hollering their names. I made phone calls asking those down our road if they had seen them. Our neighbors who were out taking pictures in the afternoon never saw them. Some of the neighbor boys who had been out hunting hadn’t seen them either. No one spotted them. All day.

We needed divine intervention to find our puppies. And we believe God loves us so much that He cares for every detail in our lives. As a parent, I’ve searched for missing toys because I know how much it means to my child, not because of my own connection to it, but the joy I have to see the joy of my child. I know the Lord feels the same toward us. And I know, whichever way this went, He cared for us; He loves us; we’re His children.

A Facebook post asking for just that, for prayer, rendered so much love; so many expressions of concern and compassion. And then a neighbor, a couple miles away, went out in the night to look for our pets. And about 10:30pm as I was going to turn the porch light on, hoping it would help them make their way back, I noticed another vehicle scooting along with a spot light shining on the pasture. It brought me to tears seeing how much people care. I even received a text today from Misty, one of my dear nursing school friends offering to come help me look for them while her son was at school. People, this is loving your neighbor as yourself. Every person who searched, every person who shared their photo on Facebook, every person who offered to help, every person who prayed were all doing exactly what Jesus commanded, loving others as they love themselves. So many were helping us, not because of the emotional connection they have to our pets, but because of the emotional connection they have to theirs. They understand how hard it is to lose a pet and they were doing for us what they would do if they had lost their own. Loving their neighbor as themselves.

This morning I made nine phone calls to area shelters and veterinary clinics. One of those calls was placed at 8:54 a.m. And it’s one I almost didn’t make because it’s so far from our home. But I wanted to do everything possible. Eight minutes later, the clinic called me back and said, “We think this lady who called may have your dogs.” I was shaking and holding back tears while writing her name and number down. I called her and it went to voicemail. I left her a message and immediately texted her a photo of them. She texted back and said, “Yep. That’s them.” Well, after another phone call and a quick twenty-one mile trip, we got our puppies back!!!!

The Lord works on our behalf so often. Sometimes I think we minimize it or maybe we just overlook it. Sometimes we miss the details to be astounded by His hand at work in our life.

Our dogs are two black labs who love to run the fields. Our dogs don’t wear collars because we’re afraid they’d get caught on a pasture fence. Our dogs’ coats are shaved and yesterday was bitterly cold; we had snow. Our dogs wandered off our family’s160 acres to an adjacent piece of land. Our dogs were taken in by a man who was out caring for his cattle. Our dogs were fed. Our dogs were given a soft bed made from a cushion and covered with a sheet. Our dogs were loved on and cared for all day yesterday and all last night. Our dogs even had an egg prepared for their breakfast this morning.

It’s almost unbelievable. I see how the Lord cares for every detail of our life. No sometimes life is hard. Sometimes it gets cold. Sometimes we get hungry. Sometimes we are lost. But there’s nothing like being found. There’s nothing like coming home. And sometimes we need a neighbor to help us get there.

I’m thankful to The Schneiders who are my neighbors. Yes, they live over twenty miles from my home, but they loved this family as Jesus told us to love.

Be blessed, neighbors!

Wonderful to have had resources available-- willing people wanting to reunite pets with their families. Thank you to all the animal shelters and veterinary clinics who took my name and number today!

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No Big Deal

“Hey baby. I was just calling to let you know I am saying prayers for you for tomorrow. I love you. You’ve been on my mind a lot, and everything is going to be just fine, I just hate that you have to go through this. But anyhow I love you and call me if you have time, if not, I totally understand. You know I’m with you. Bye baby.” This was the message I received Monday night after my shift. It was my Aunt Donna touching base with me before my 9am surgery on Tuesday. I hadn’t given the procedure much thought. I had acknowledged it with my co-workers through casual routine conversation of when we each worked again. Nurses frequently ask, “When are you back?” It’s nice to know if you’ll be working with the same team, especially if our days are scheduled in a row. You get in a groove with those you work with frequently, which can help make things go smooth. But apart from a few mentions of being absent a couple of weeks, I hadn’t really discussed this surgery.

Is it because I consider it confidential or feel it exposes my privacy? Not at all. I didn’t call and tell anyone, or make a post, because it feels, after this many surgeries, it’s just not a big deal. I assume people probably get sick of hearing about it. I’ve got oodles of scar tissue, tightness and constriction, and sometimes it seems never ending. Same song. Five hundredth verse. [Not really, but too numerous to count.] I’m not going to lie. Sometimes I have a pity party. Sometimes I get so sick of this. No matter how many years go by, one surgery takes me back to the thoughts I had as a kid. Detesting the fact I was hunched over, barely walking, feeling like an old woman. As active and mobile as I normally am, one surgery takes me back. I try to minimize the dread. I try to focus on the perks of surgery, the nap and those warm blankets. And after reminding myself about some of the health issues people are facing, these surgeries seem like a breeze.

Nevertheless, I was reminded Tuesday how blessed I am with so many people who care. By way of my Mom’s Facebook post came numerous messages, calls and texts, even a pie, cupcake and flowers from my sweet neighbor. It got me thinking… how often do we cut ourselves short of love? By keeping quiet I was cutting short the care and concern people I love wanted to show.

While there are some things I hold personally quiet, most of life I feel blessed to share. After all, life is about living, and living encompasses the people we’ve been given to share this life with, so why put up barriers? Disconnection happens when we guard ourselves and it can fade into the dangerous effects of isolation. What an opportunity for the enemy to convince someone that no one cares.

We told the kids a few days before about my surgery. We discussed the plans for the time I’d be down. Mom having surgery can be scary for kids, but they handle it well when they know there’s a plan. And I was surprised when my daughter asked if she could go with me. I had never given it any thought that she had no idea the processes involved in going in for an operation. So Brandon and I told her if it was okay with her teachers and her schoolwork, then absolutely she could go.

This time was very different for me. It’s what I would even consider special. Mothers always want to be the caretakers, the comforters, the one in control. The tables were turned for me Tuesday. My precious girl walked through the doors with me when they called my name. She sat near when the nurse started my IV, something Brooklyn had never seen before. She watched as Dr. Kirk came in to make his surgical markings. She prayed with her Dad and me before I headed out of the pre-op area. She waited those three hours of my operation and listened intently as Dr. Kirk drew explanations of the procedure. Brooklyn helped me get dressed and put my shoes on for me. She escorted me to and helped me in the car. As humbling as it was, I am grateful for the opportunity to have seen my daughter as I did the other day.

In the realities of this injury, stood the miracle of it. While twenty-six years ago my family was focusing on when it would be “over,” the reality was never. My life will never be what it would have been. Life will never be the same, but life is still good. In some ways, I think it is even better. When faced with never walking again, being able to is treasured. When weighing the chances of a fulfilling relationship, having one is gold. When accepting minimal possibility of pregnancy, children are everything. While most people don’t set their minds on mobility, marriage or children until the topics present themselves, I thought on them from the delicate age of seven. I feared I had lost everything, before I had the chance to live it. Therefore, today, it’s hard to focus on that which was lost when there’s so much that’s been given.

The focus isn’t on the scars or the pain, the repetitive surgeries or the inconvenience of recovering. For me, the gift isn’t merely about living and having survived the injury. My focus is on what I thought I’d have to live without. And both were represented and very present with me on Tuesday, the hope of a family, my husband and my child.

It is a big deal. Surgeries can be complicated. None are without risks. But what’s a bigger deal? Having the strength to face them. Having the love of my family and my friends. It’s a big deal to my heart having others concerned for me. I am filled with joy for what I’ve been given, overwhelming joy.

Colossians 1:11-12

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, always thanking the Father. He has enabled you to share in the inheritance that belongs to His people, who live in the light.

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I am so Jealous

We are Once Upon a Time fans. I know, probably not any surprise considering how much we love Disney and embrace fairy tales. Last season the writers creatively connected Wizard of Oz characters to the Storybrooke scene. If you watch the show you’re with me already, if not, hang in there, this post still has something to offer. Do you remember how the Wicked Witch became green? Well, Once Upon a Time told us her and the Evil Queen, Regina, were half sisters. Regina was favored, in the fact she wasn’t abandoned by their mother as the Wicked Witch was, and furthermore, because Rumpelstiltskin chose to make Regina his apprentice over the Wicked Witch. Creating the perfect soil to sow seeds of jealousy. Hence the saying, “green with envy;” the Wicked Witch began to gain her color.

I realize it’s mostly just a saying, but I feel a bit saddened when I hear the phrase, “I’m so jealous.” Philippians 4:13 is often quoted, but look at the scripture right before it, “I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want” Philippians 4:12 (NIV). Look at those words, “the secret of being content in any and every situation…” This is why I use the word “sad” to describe how I feel when I hear people so freely express feelings of jealousy. No matter how little we have, we can still count what we do, and no matter how much we have, there is always someone who has more. For me, it’s an issue of contentment.

But recently I identified with a feeling of jealousy and it became real to me from reading this passage.

“Jealousy isn’t a character trait that we sing about or write about often. We ignore it because we don’t understand it. Jealousy has a negative connotation because for us it’s usually the by-product of pride. But jealousy is a beautiful expression of God’s love. It’s a jealous love that wants all of you- all to Himself. And if you’ve ever been in love, you know it’s the most passionate form of love there is.” Mark Batterson, All In

I rejoice that the jealousy I felt was not rooted in pride. The words came off the page to me because they are basically words my husband and I had ourselves said in regard to our family vacation. We are fairly guarded when it comes to taking time for our family. We budget in a family vacation every year. We put money back each month as if it were a bill to pay. We strive to avoid what Ellie and Carl did from the movie Up who never made it to Paradise Falls, because they had to keep busting their coin jar for unexpected needs which would arise.

A few months back my Mom made a comment in good humor, but I took note. She said, “One thing is for sure, when you want us to go you invite us and when you don’t, you don’t.” I felt a little selfish. We didn’t want anyone to go with us this year. We hadn’t had a vacation with just our kids in three years. We have less than five years until our oldest will graduate from high school and we all know how the nuclear family changes after that. Brandon and I love when our parents have joined us on vacations. Like in January 2003 when my Mom & Dad and Brandon’s Mom & Dad went with us for Brooklyn’s first trip to Disney World. It was a trip we’d never get to all do together again. My Dad passed away two years later. Another one was in September 2012 when Brandon’s parents, my Mom and my Aunt all went with us to Hawaii to celebrate my graduation from nursing school. I kept saying, “I am so thankful we all are here together.” It was such a celebration, a gift of being together, much of which we had sacrificed for my time at OU.

But as much as we have loved having those big family vacations, it adds a different dynamic to the trip. Our attention is divided, in good ways; nevertheless, still divided. This time we wanted to give all of our attention to our children and we wanted them to give us all of their attention. It sounds selfish doesn’t it? It sounds like we’re jealous for them? And honestly, we are.

I get it. I get how the Lord is jealous for us. Exodus 34:14 NIV, “Do not worship any other god, for the Lord, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God.”

“God isn’t just jealous. And when God says something more than once, you need to think twice about what it means. You don’t belong to God once. You belong to God twice. Once by virtue of creation. Twice by virtue of redemption. He gave us life via creation. And when we were dead in our sin, He gave us eternal life via redemption. We don’t owe Him one life. We owe Him two lives! And that is why God is doubly jealous.” Mark Batterson, All In

In reflecting on the eight days we had with our children, I’m glad we’re jealous for them. I’m glad we’re over the top about allotting time together. I’m glad we don’t allow them to make family vacations, friend vacations. I’m glad we go without some things through the year, to go all in for a week. What we got in return? Seeing Brooklyn and Caden walk through the park holding hands on day 2 and still seeing those moments when Jaron took Gavin by the hand on day 8. Brooklyn giving Gavin a piggyback ride when his little legs just got too tired. Sharing Caden’s massive ice cream sandwich while waiting on the Spectromagic parade. Getting in an enormous family sized raft at Blizzard Beach. Standing in lines and talking. Observing the magic come alive to our five-year old and still see our oldest impressed.

It doesn’t have to be Disney. It’s not about Mickey or parades or fireworks or delicious dinners. It’s about focusing on the precious people we have for the priceless yet limited time we get.

Seasons change. Enjoy each one as it comes. Soak up the moments. And remember, as much as you want to be with your children, so your Heavenly Father wants to be with you.

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The Best Kept Secret

A few years ago Disney Vacation Club had a slogan; “The Best Kept Secret.” Secrets are so hard to keep, but the surprise is so worth the wait. Anyone who knows me knows how hard it is for me to keep a secret. Well, that is when the news is good. I can hold on to bad news forever. I mean how fun is it to spread gloom? But happy stuff? It’s so hard to hold in. To see the joy and excitement of sharing something good is a challenge to refrain from. But I do when needed, because there’s nothing I love more than a surprise.

So what’s so special about a surprise? Well, let’s look back to some scriptures which hold some amazing surprises.

Jesus turned the water into wine. There’s so much I love about this passage, like it was fine wine, none of that soda pop wine, but especially because it was about how much our Heavenly Father cares for the details in our life. It would have been socially embarrassing for this couple to run out of wine, but the Lord surprised them and met their need on their incredibly special day. (John 2:1-11)

Another surprise was the feeding of 5,000. Don’t you know those disciples were concerned when Jesus blessed the five loaves and two fish? But man. How surprised were they when they not only fed thousands of people but also had twelve baskets of leftovers? (Matthew 14:15-21)

And then there is the parting of The Red Sea. Can you imagine the Israelites getting to the shoreline? Pharaoh and his army hot on their trail. A body of water before them. Don’t you know their hearts were beating out of their chest? The adrenaline pumping through their bodies. And then Moses takes his staff and parts that water with an aisle of opportunity and safety before them. What a surprise! (Exodus 14:10-31)

Now these stories may not surprise you today, but they should. They should get you super excited just like the moment they occurred. These stories may have settled into our spirits as something common. Growing up with these stories, hearing this our entire lives, may cause us to lose sight of how impressive these miracles are and cause us to forget they were surprises.

My take away is that God loves to surprise his children. And just as He has surprised us countless times over, so we love to surprise the children He gave to us. The joy is all ours to see the excitement on our children’s faces. It blesses us to surprise them. And we gave it our best shot these past several months.

Seven months ago we made reservations to visit Disney World. Six months ago we booked all of our Disney World Dining. Over a month ago we chose all of our FastPass+ selections. All the while our children didn’t know a thing.

Brandon had this fabulous idea to keep it a secret and surprise them the morning of our departure. Let me tell you, he’s the reserved character in this relationship; therefore, it’s not nearly as difficult for him to keep things to himself as it is for me, the one who loves to talk about everything. But this last week he felt the challenge too.

It took a lot of planning…and discipline not to say a word. Typically, we do a 30-day countdown calendar. We get a poster board at Wal-Mart, lay out the grid and Brandon adds specific artwork relative to where we are going. But not this time. This time, we came up with an elaborate plan and packed up without them knowing. Our story went like this….

‘Twas the night before vacation and the Meadows children had no clue! I said, “Come on guys. We’ve got to get to bed. I signed up to work extra tomorrow because they are short a few nurses. Grandma can’t keep you all, so Dad is going to drop you off at Nana’s in the morning on his way to work. You’ll have to get up early because he’s got to get to the office for a meeting.”

In the preceding days, I utilized their time at school to hoard away clothes in our safe room closet. They were packed a week before we left. The most difficult part was to play it cool when inside I was screaming, “We’re going to Disney World!!!!”

All great surprises are worth waiting for, because the memory of the joy it brings lasts a lifetime.

Our children have had a Disney vacation nearly every year of their life, but we imagine the year they got one, that they didn’t think they were getting one, will be one they treasure throughout their years. We hope they feel overjoyed, we hope they feel loved and special, we hope they soak up every ounce of fun each surprise life has to offer.

And we hope, in it all, they see Jesus, the One who came full of surprises. Because who would’ve thought a King would come in a manger? Big surprise. And the surprises kept coming. And they continue on today. He has this AMAZING plan, and we don’t even know all the details. He reveals it in His perfect timing.

My husband and I planned a trip we knew our kids would enjoy. We waited to reveal it when it would mean the most. And we were blessed to bless them. What joy it gave us. The same joy I pray we bring to our Heavenly Father when He surprises us!

He has the best kept secrets!

click here to visit our family's All Things Disney

Sure love being able to replay this moment.  It was definitely worth the wait.

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Who Can Be Against Us?

What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?

Romans 8:31 NIV

Romans chapter 8 is one of my favorite passages. In this one chapter, I find scriptures there that convict me, challenge me and comfort me. But verse 31 came to mind not long ago on a day I was working.

After my twelve-hour shift, I traveled those thirty-five miles home, opened the door, hung my bag on the wall, emptied my pockets and got ready for bed. It’s a typical routine when I’m scheduled back the following day. But my husband seemed to think I had had an exceptionally grueling day. I clarified to him it wasn’t a bad one or a bad assignment, I just felt as if this family thought I was against them the whole day. He asked, “Why would they think you were against them?” And I answered, “Because their baby is in the NICU and they don’t want him to be.”

It’s a typical day at work caring for other people’s babies. But it’s incredibly unnatural. See, moms anticipate and fantasize about the moments regarding their child’s birth. They’ll come in with detailed birth plans. Some will decline epidurals, envision skin-to-skin, putting baby to breast immediately; but none desire the NICU. No one wants to sign up for having their baby taken away from them. Babies are supposed to be placed in their mama’s arms, anything but, as necessary as it may be, feels so unnatural.

I know because I’ve experienced it. Yes, of course as a nurse, but I experienced it twice as a mom, before I ever became a nurse. My second child was born with respiratory distress syndrome. He was grunting, retracting and I imagine didn’t have a very impressive pulse ox. After his initial, but brief visit down to the special care nursery, he earned himself a NICU pass. The nurses brought him by my room and told me they were taking him to NICU. Let me take a brief moment to just say… mamas having just given birth are crazy. I feel I can draw that conclusion having given birth four times and meeting so many women after having done the same. Please don’t make judgments in those moments, or for the next several months even. A woman is not herself. And her mind, well, it is not much to speak of either, which is why I can share with you what I said to those poor nurses when they brought Jaron by my room. “I need to hold him.” They looked at one another somewhat puzzled with traces of fear in their eyes and stuttered a reply, “We were given orders to come by the mother’s room and take the baby straight to NICU. We can’t take him out.” I looked at Jaron in the isolette and said, “Oh no, I need to hold my baby.” They apologized and whisked him out of the room. Despite the residual effects of my epidural, I started to get out of my bed, as if…as if I was going to go after them! Absolutely crazy.

My natural instinct to hold my baby was overriding all reason. I couldn’t even process the fact that without medical intervention he would die. And I see this heartbreak of mother’s routinely. There can be this continual flux of appreciation and aggravation. Overall, parents do seem grateful for the care, but they can also get so frustrated with the process. They simply want to take their baby home and sometimes the only obvious physical barrier between home and the hospital is the nurse. In these moments, strength and fortitude are necessities to focus these families on each goal for their baby, and to remind them how we are doing everything we can to get them there. We must remind them we are for them, not against them.

And we demonstrate that by holding them up. A woman never knows the feeling of having her heart outside her body until she experiences the birth of her child. We literally feel outside ourselves… forever. From the moment that tiny person enters the world and for all the years which pass, our children hold our hearts.

Consider with me the families who were never prepared to care for a baby with extenuating medical needs, or those precious families who never take home their baby at all. Those families, those mother’s, need to be held up. They need to know we are in their corner.

In the times we are speaking words mother’s don’t want to hear, giving information they don’t want to receive, or implementing care they wish wasn’t needed, think of Aaron and Hur and what those men did for Moses.

Exodus 17:10-13

So Joshua fought the Amalekites as Moses had ordered, and Moses, Aaron and Hur went to the top of the hill. As long as Moses held up his hands, the Israelites were winning, but whenever he lowered his hands, the Amalekites were winning. When Moses’ hands grew tired, they took a stone and put it under him and he sat on it. Aaron and Hur held his hands up—one on one side, one on the other—so that his hands remained steady till sunset. So Joshua overcame the Amalekite army with the sword.

These women are in a battle. There is so much conflict in their heart, so much disappointment, sometimes resentment, sometimes denial. Life in the NICU is not the way they pictured it. Therefore, when they ask the same question repeatedly. When they call several times a shift. When they get snippy one minute, cry the next, and moments later spill every detail of their life. Hold them up. They are tired. They are worn. Everything feels heavy. Just like their babies, they need you, a person who cares, a person who loves, a person who is compassionate and understanding; a person who is strong enough, and a person who is for them.

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#SWW

It’s been about sixteen years since I walked into my Pastor’s office and visited with him about a proposal I had received. Brandon had asked me to marry him and I said yes! Was the occasion accompanied with accolades and jubilation? No, not at all. Our families were quite supportive of our dating relationship, but when it came to the discussion of marriage, we encountered many objections. Why? Because at the time of our engagement, I was seventeen, a senior in high school; and he was barely eighteen, a college freshman. What experiences in our life could give us the assurance we were making the right choice for the rest of our life? I expected to receive the same questioning from my Pastor, but I didn’t. The only words I remember was, “Heather, you’re an SWW.” I knew what that was. In today’s time, it deserves a hash tag. Before social media, it was simply an acronym he used meaning, “Strong Willed Woman.” And he asked me what date we were planning for the wedding.

It was one of the first decisions I made without the encouragement from those I loved. It was the first time I silenced the voices around me and solely listened to my Heavenly Father’s. My mom wouldn’t even discuss wedding plans with me until five months before our wedding. My friends kept asking, “How do you really know?” And realistically, there was no way to prove what I knew in my heart and my spirit. For a person who greatly appreciates the support and agreement of others, it was challenging for me to proceed with what I knew was God’s plan for my life.

But I did proceed with His plan. It hasn’t always been easy. It sure would’ve been smoother for Brandon to have completed his engineering degree or me to have completed my nursing degree before we got married, or before we built a house, or before we had children, but easy isn’t always fulfilling, because the Lord sometimes calls us to do what’s difficult. And His ways are higher than ours (Isaiah 55:9), so although we’ve had times of challenge, there’s no other way I’d have wanted to go about it.

During my quiet time several months ago I read Psalm 68. Verse 11 came off the page. It reads:

The Lord announces the word, and the women who proclaim it are a mighty throng 

Different translations interchange “women” and “company,” but I was reading the New International Version at the time and it spoke volumes to my heart. In those times, I’m reminded of Hebrews 4:12, telling us The Word is alive. The Lord uses His Word to speak to us in anything and everything we encounter. And this scripture was so timely, emphasizing the mighty women who proclaim God’s Word.

It may seem speaking truth and love wouldn’t take a mighty woman, but on the contrary it requires even the mightier. Sometimes proclaiming God’s Word doesn’t fit with what people want to hear or what they want to happen or even what they understand, so they reject it, meaning they may reject you. Through trials, through rejection, through persecution, the message doesn’t change.

I’m prompted to think of some SWWs I see today. Silencing the voices of naysayers, a young single woman stepping out in faith, responding to the calling God placed on her heart to foster a baby. Enduring the heartache, my friend, standing strong in a long divorce process, painfully confronting dishonesty and unfaithfulness. Pressing on, a woman bravely speaks for justice in her work place, a holy determination to expel the darkness with the light of Jesus.

These memories, these women and this scripture bring encouragement to my heart. Relationships change when words spoken are spiraled and twisted like a thrilling roller coaster. Close bonds are broken when time and distance are forced between them. Life looks different. Memories are cherished. The focus becomes the future.

It’s surely not easy being an SWW, but it is a choice. Not everyone wants to be strong. But if you do, be prepared. We are strengthened through what we endure. And while the Lord’s plans for our life is for good and not harm (Jeremiah 29:11), there is an enemy on the attack. With each battle, each obstacle, each barrier and hurdle, God is making you stronger. Your heart, your spirit, your integrity, your security in Him, your identity in Him, your reliance on His hand to be at work and not your own, your confidence that He will move on your behalf, your resolve, your commitment, your assurance; it’s all becoming stronger.

SWWs are not made; they’re developed.

The next opportunity that comes your way, choose to build strength.

Remember, sometimes the Lord calls us to speak, sometimes He calls us to be silent, sometimes the Lord wants us to take action and other times be still. Yes, sometimes we have to quiet those around us to make sure we are hearing only His voice.

Let’s sharpen one another to be the SWWs God intends for us to be. Let’s train up the next generation of SWWs; mighty woman proclaiming God’s Word!

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A Bit Different

Is being different good? Is being different fun?

Is being different easy?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So the questions remain…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Psalm 27:14 NIV

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

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Give Me a Break

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Ice Cold

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Click To Donate ~ link to ALS

Click to Watch this INSPIRING Story

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Peace with Others

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May you feel His peace…..

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

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

So cute…. So true….

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

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My Dads

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Packing for Possibilities

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Give a Little Honey

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Bonus Mom

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Happy Mother’s Day to you!

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Distractions

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Keeping it real with our girls……

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Tough Cookie

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLm5NIgWB6A

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My Heart Judged

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

For you, my family.

For you, my friends.

For you, my faithful readers.

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

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Please Be Our 100

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Work In Progress

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Let It Go

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Joshua 1:9

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

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

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

*click here to visit the site for Congressman Markwayne Mullin

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