A Normal Day
I was driving between patient’s houses thinking about all that needed to happen that evening. Chris needed to study so I was envisioning gymnastics, supper, baths, and bedtime. I caught myself thinking, “one more bath time.”
Almost immediately the audaciousness of that thought hit me. I thought of all the young parents I’ve sat with while they were dying. I remembered their longing to raise their children and be the person who takes care of them. I know they would have gladly been strong enough to give their child a bath or simply read them a story.
My eyes could see her in front of me, her kids almost the same age as mine. Tears running down her sweet face as she talked about fighting. I could hear me telling her that she will not regret celebrating “big”, even if she survives, she won’t regret writing her kids letters. I told her about the birthday letters I write my own kids. I write them for two reasons. One is to remember and celebrate the year. The other is so they have it, they can know my thoughts. Just because I don’t currently have a known illness, doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed a tomorrow. We talked about how all parents should strive to leave that legacy.
There I was, almost dreading on more bath time. Reframe. Reality is that it’s not one more, it’s one less. One less time I’ll get them clean, play with bath toys, snuggle them in a towel, and read stories. I owe it to all those parents who don’t get to have a normal day to be intentional about my own.
My own family and dear friends have gone through many tragedies this year. So much hurt and so much sad. I am blessed beyond measure and I pray daily for many. I recognize that I am always a heartbeat away from routine.
Soaking up the beauty of another normal day.
Mary Jane Irion: “Normal day, let me be aware of the treasure you are. Let me learn from you, love you, bless you, before you depart. Let me knot pass you by in quest for some rare and perfect tomorrow. Let me hold you while I may, for it may not always be so. One day I shall dig my nails into the earth, and bury my face in the pillow, or stretch myself taut, or raise my hands to the sky and want, more then all the world, your return. And then I will know what now I am guessing; that you are indeed a common rock and not a jewel, but that a common rock made of the very mass substance of the earth in all of it’s strength and plenty puts a gem to shame. The day is over, and now I will sleep.”
Wednesday, December 05, 2012
Monday, November 26, 2012
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Friday, August 24, 2012
Happy Birthday Micah!!!
Dear Micah,
How do I even begin to describe this year of your life? You have brought us so much joy, laughter, personality, and terror; all packaged in your now three year old body.
There is no way to ever describe to you what you went through in February and how very sick you were. At the same time, I don't think you will ever fully comprehend how quickly you got better. I remember so much of it with scary details, but today, I want to share a couple of funnier ones. Once you started to feel better, the nurse asked you what your favorite cereal was so she could bring it to you. Your response? "Fiber One." Which is true; however, she had to tell you they don't carry it on the Peds floor. Later, the doctor was trying to find something you would drink, you asked for a "mixed drink." We knew you meant from the many flavor machine at Moes~ we just had to explain that to the doctor.
You have so many favorites this year. Fried Chicken, Okra, M&M's, and Goldfish. You eat Fiber One for breakfast every morning. I'm sure we could pay for your college if you did a commercial for them.
Your favorite TV shows are Fresh Beat Band, Curious George, Scooby Doo, and Veggie Tales. Your favorite book right now is Goodnight Gorilla. You love to carry around small board books and "read" them to us. You can point out any letter in the alphabet and say them correctly. You love music and all things Thomas the Train. You also love to play on the IPad and IPhone. If we didn't have it password protected, you could download apps and songs by yourself.
You also love music. You play guitar, drums, and dance so much. You often call yourself, "Rat a tat tat" when playing the drums.
You still love NaTAlie, which is how you say her name. Somehow the TA part is always enunciated when you say it. You also love "my friends Heidi, Steven, and Shelby" and talk about them often.
You prefer to wear your ball caps backwards and love your orange hat the most. Your favorite color is green. You love to play any type of sport and really love putting together puzzles.
You talk so very much, all the time. You are extremely literal. Last Sunday, we were crossing the parking lot at church together. We were practicing looking both ways and watching for cars. You declared, "no cars" and started walking. I asked, "Micah, what would you have done if there had been a car coming." You stopped and said, "uh, bumped my head?" Obviously we need to work on that a bit more.
You have also become more shy, just in the last month. You no longer want to go in the church nursery and have been sitting through the whole service with me. You are a little more weary of new people and look around me to see them. But, your teachers at school tell us that you are very helpful and often take care of your friends.
You are quite simply a very gifted and spirited little boy. My prayer for you is to love God and love others; to show kindness like you do today. I hope you keep having geniune concern for someone who is hurt. I also hope you continue to see choices like God, love and goodness as black and white as you do now.
Micah Man, may you always know that God created you for a purpose, carries you through situations for His reasons, and knows your capabilities and limitations because He made them and you.
We love you my sweet, sweet, boy.
Forever, for always, no matter what.
Mommy and Daddy
How do I even begin to describe this year of your life? You have brought us so much joy, laughter, personality, and terror; all packaged in your now three year old body.
There is no way to ever describe to you what you went through in February and how very sick you were. At the same time, I don't think you will ever fully comprehend how quickly you got better. I remember so much of it with scary details, but today, I want to share a couple of funnier ones. Once you started to feel better, the nurse asked you what your favorite cereal was so she could bring it to you. Your response? "Fiber One." Which is true; however, she had to tell you they don't carry it on the Peds floor. Later, the doctor was trying to find something you would drink, you asked for a "mixed drink." We knew you meant from the many flavor machine at Moes~ we just had to explain that to the doctor.
You have so many favorites this year. Fried Chicken, Okra, M&M's, and Goldfish. You eat Fiber One for breakfast every morning. I'm sure we could pay for your college if you did a commercial for them.
Your favorite TV shows are Fresh Beat Band, Curious George, Scooby Doo, and Veggie Tales. Your favorite book right now is Goodnight Gorilla. You love to carry around small board books and "read" them to us. You can point out any letter in the alphabet and say them correctly. You love music and all things Thomas the Train. You also love to play on the IPad and IPhone. If we didn't have it password protected, you could download apps and songs by yourself.
You also love music. You play guitar, drums, and dance so much. You often call yourself, "Rat a tat tat" when playing the drums.
You still love NaTAlie, which is how you say her name. Somehow the TA part is always enunciated when you say it. You also love "my friends Heidi, Steven, and Shelby" and talk about them often.
You prefer to wear your ball caps backwards and love your orange hat the most. Your favorite color is green. You love to play any type of sport and really love putting together puzzles.
You talk so very much, all the time. You are extremely literal. Last Sunday, we were crossing the parking lot at church together. We were practicing looking both ways and watching for cars. You declared, "no cars" and started walking. I asked, "Micah, what would you have done if there had been a car coming." You stopped and said, "uh, bumped my head?" Obviously we need to work on that a bit more.
You have also become more shy, just in the last month. You no longer want to go in the church nursery and have been sitting through the whole service with me. You are a little more weary of new people and look around me to see them. But, your teachers at school tell us that you are very helpful and often take care of your friends.
You are quite simply a very gifted and spirited little boy. My prayer for you is to love God and love others; to show kindness like you do today. I hope you keep having geniune concern for someone who is hurt. I also hope you continue to see choices like God, love and goodness as black and white as you do now.
Micah Man, may you always know that God created you for a purpose, carries you through situations for His reasons, and knows your capabilities and limitations because He made them and you.
We love you my sweet, sweet, boy.
Forever, for always, no matter what.
Mommy and Daddy
Sunday, August 05, 2012
Blessing
I sat in the rocking chair last night feeling so very blessed. We attended family camp this week in Blowing Rock, NC. One of the most beautiful places on earth.
Sitting on the front porch, I took survey of those around me. We were laughing at our kids and at each other. As I watched my kids run up and down the hill I found myself thinking of other things I've seen sitting on that same porch.
Somewhere around thirteen or fourteen, sitting with my teenage friends playing "talk show".
I remember sitting on the banister next to one of my many crushes up on that mountain.
I can recall conversations with several pastors and youth pastors who have been such encouragers to me in my journey. I looked to my left and could see the wood beams that I sat and poured my heart out to a long time pastor. I told him I felt very called to a life of ministry. He listened, prayed, and encouraged me. This week, he is here for family camp and his daughter is directing the whole thing.
Then there was the conversation that led to a mission trip to Sweden when I was seventeen. Or the conversation regarding my choice of majors in college.
My mind quickly spun to another conversation. I was a little older, about nineteen. Sitting on that same porch talking to another associate pastor. We talked until three in the morning. I left the porch that night so grateful for a good, Godly, friend. How could I have known that several years later, I would marry that boy?
There I sat last night, among old and new friends. It was one of the rare moments in life where it all comes together, for just a moment, and it seems right.
Up there, on that mountain, surrounded by family, by friends, and most of all, by the presence of God. He never leaves me when I leave the mountain, but somehow I always hear Him more clearly there. Maybe it's the time out from daily life. Maybe it's the beauty. Maybe it's simply that God chooses to do so. Last night, I soaked it all up and was so grateful for the moment.
All too quickly, my children had a melt down because it was entirely too late for them to be awake. We had to put them bed. We then stayed up talking to these life long friends. Today we packed it all up and headed back down the mountain. About half way down, both of our phones started. Voicemails and text messages that we hadn't received yet, because we had no signal. As we drove home and talked about the demands of this weekend, I found myself wishing to be back.
That's when I remind myself that it always comes with me. Those decisions I made up there have been life changing, because they are led by God. I am in a life of ministry. I do continue to want to serve God by loving Him and loving others. I married my biggest crush. And, now, my kids have been introduced to this amazing place. They love it already.
Not far down the road Natalie said, "mommy I love you.". I said, "I love you too.". Natalie said, "daddy I love you." Chris said, "I love you too.". Natalie then says, "Micah I love you." To which Micah replies, "ah? You do?"
Praying that in the mountains, in the valleys, when things seem right, and when things seem wrong, we will hear God telling us He loves us. He always has and He always will.
Sitting on the front porch, I took survey of those around me. We were laughing at our kids and at each other. As I watched my kids run up and down the hill I found myself thinking of other things I've seen sitting on that same porch.
Somewhere around thirteen or fourteen, sitting with my teenage friends playing "talk show".
I remember sitting on the banister next to one of my many crushes up on that mountain.
I can recall conversations with several pastors and youth pastors who have been such encouragers to me in my journey. I looked to my left and could see the wood beams that I sat and poured my heart out to a long time pastor. I told him I felt very called to a life of ministry. He listened, prayed, and encouraged me. This week, he is here for family camp and his daughter is directing the whole thing.
Then there was the conversation that led to a mission trip to Sweden when I was seventeen. Or the conversation regarding my choice of majors in college.
My mind quickly spun to another conversation. I was a little older, about nineteen. Sitting on that same porch talking to another associate pastor. We talked until three in the morning. I left the porch that night so grateful for a good, Godly, friend. How could I have known that several years later, I would marry that boy?
There I sat last night, among old and new friends. It was one of the rare moments in life where it all comes together, for just a moment, and it seems right.
Up there, on that mountain, surrounded by family, by friends, and most of all, by the presence of God. He never leaves me when I leave the mountain, but somehow I always hear Him more clearly there. Maybe it's the time out from daily life. Maybe it's the beauty. Maybe it's simply that God chooses to do so. Last night, I soaked it all up and was so grateful for the moment.
All too quickly, my children had a melt down because it was entirely too late for them to be awake. We had to put them bed. We then stayed up talking to these life long friends. Today we packed it all up and headed back down the mountain. About half way down, both of our phones started. Voicemails and text messages that we hadn't received yet, because we had no signal. As we drove home and talked about the demands of this weekend, I found myself wishing to be back.
That's when I remind myself that it always comes with me. Those decisions I made up there have been life changing, because they are led by God. I am in a life of ministry. I do continue to want to serve God by loving Him and loving others. I married my biggest crush. And, now, my kids have been introduced to this amazing place. They love it already.
Not far down the road Natalie said, "mommy I love you.". I said, "I love you too.". Natalie said, "daddy I love you." Chris said, "I love you too.". Natalie then says, "Micah I love you." To which Micah replies, "ah? You do?"
Praying that in the mountains, in the valleys, when things seem right, and when things seem wrong, we will hear God telling us He loves us. He always has and He always will.
Sunday, July 01, 2012
Natalie's 6th Birthday
To my dear sweet Natalie,
I'm going to barely get this blog completed on your birthday. Our tradition has become to write down things that are all about you on your special day.
My goodness, what a year it is has been. You started Kindergarten like a pro and never seemed phased by all the new challenges of the year. Daddy and I were so nervous for you to go to this "big school". We walked you in the first day and on day two you were begging me to drop you off at the curb. I honestly couldn't physically do that. I walked you in for three days. By this point, you were begging to go inside by yourself. So the end of the week, I let you. I pulled up to the teacher, sat there blocking traffic until you were not only in the door, but out of my sight, then I cried, for a very long time. You have always been fiercely independent and nothing about school was going to slow you down.
Your teacher was Mrs. Newsome and you LOVED her! Daddy and I prayed for you to have a good match for your personality and she was an answer to that prayer. She challenged you with harder homework and more responsibility all of the time. She also ensured you were listening, gently coached you, and taught you so many new things. I'll never forget sitting at the dinner table while you told us all about 9/11. It hadn't occurred to me to tell you about that day yet. Here you sat telling me all about "bad guys" and "heroes" and people who didn't live. While you were learning about new things, our world was expanding too. It's been hard to keep up with you this year.
You are such a great reader!!! Somewhere this spring, a switch flipped, and you were suddenly reading everything. You finished at a reading level of eight (you needed to be at a three to move out of Kindergarten). You are reading chapter books now and again, Daddy and I are barely able to remember what you are currently reading.
You begged for a Barbie Birthday Party this year. We just finished cleaning from the party at Uncle Robert and Aunt Joene's pool. It was so neat to see the different people from church and soccer all together to celebrate you. You also negotiated for a pinata this year. You told me you dreamed about it and wanted it to be just like dreamed. Which leads me to my next point...
You are so very particular. You dream big. You are creative and artistic. You are really good at drawing and story writing. You love to help Micah with art. You write letters to Micah all the time. Letters about being a great brother, being a stupid brother, hoping he will leave you alone, or hoping he will have a better day. Since Micah can't read yet, he has remained blissfully unaware of these masterpieces in his room.
For the most part, you are really good to Micah. He looks up to you so much and loves to be with you. You tolerate him well and allow him to play with you and your toys. Overall, you are very protective of him too. You've taught him and loved him. You are an amazing big sister.
You continue to love soccer. When I asked you if you wanted to play next year, you looked at me like that was the dumbest question in the world. It is something you really enjoy and are very good at doing. You are so competitive and kept track of the score all season, even though we weren't supposed to.
You love Barbie, play houses, makeup, UNO, Match games, and anything artsy. You love smoothies, pizza, cinnamon sticks, popcorn and M & M's. Your favorite shows right now are Scooby Doo, Doc McStuffins, and Word Girl.
You have a big heart and the desire to love others. You have a good understanding of God and challenge me often because your faith is great. You simply make our life better, because you are our Natalie girl.
My prayer for you is that you remain your independent, fiesty, competitive, sweet, self. I pray that you have great friends who love God and love you. I pray you never forget how special you are because God created you for such a time as this. I do not know where this life will lead you, but I do know if you love God and love others, it will be very,very good.
Keep smiling, posing, dancing, playing, climbing, kicking, singing, running, praying, and loving. You have spent the last six years doing all of that and more. I can't wait to see what God has laid out for you in a lifetime.
I love you Natalie, forever, for always, no matter what.
Happy Birthday!!!
I'm going to barely get this blog completed on your birthday. Our tradition has become to write down things that are all about you on your special day.
My goodness, what a year it is has been. You started Kindergarten like a pro and never seemed phased by all the new challenges of the year. Daddy and I were so nervous for you to go to this "big school". We walked you in the first day and on day two you were begging me to drop you off at the curb. I honestly couldn't physically do that. I walked you in for three days. By this point, you were begging to go inside by yourself. So the end of the week, I let you. I pulled up to the teacher, sat there blocking traffic until you were not only in the door, but out of my sight, then I cried, for a very long time. You have always been fiercely independent and nothing about school was going to slow you down.
Your teacher was Mrs. Newsome and you LOVED her! Daddy and I prayed for you to have a good match for your personality and she was an answer to that prayer. She challenged you with harder homework and more responsibility all of the time. She also ensured you were listening, gently coached you, and taught you so many new things. I'll never forget sitting at the dinner table while you told us all about 9/11. It hadn't occurred to me to tell you about that day yet. Here you sat telling me all about "bad guys" and "heroes" and people who didn't live. While you were learning about new things, our world was expanding too. It's been hard to keep up with you this year.
You are such a great reader!!! Somewhere this spring, a switch flipped, and you were suddenly reading everything. You finished at a reading level of eight (you needed to be at a three to move out of Kindergarten). You are reading chapter books now and again, Daddy and I are barely able to remember what you are currently reading.
You begged for a Barbie Birthday Party this year. We just finished cleaning from the party at Uncle Robert and Aunt Joene's pool. It was so neat to see the different people from church and soccer all together to celebrate you. You also negotiated for a pinata this year. You told me you dreamed about it and wanted it to be just like dreamed. Which leads me to my next point...
You are so very particular. You dream big. You are creative and artistic. You are really good at drawing and story writing. You love to help Micah with art. You write letters to Micah all the time. Letters about being a great brother, being a stupid brother, hoping he will leave you alone, or hoping he will have a better day. Since Micah can't read yet, he has remained blissfully unaware of these masterpieces in his room.
For the most part, you are really good to Micah. He looks up to you so much and loves to be with you. You tolerate him well and allow him to play with you and your toys. Overall, you are very protective of him too. You've taught him and loved him. You are an amazing big sister.
You continue to love soccer. When I asked you if you wanted to play next year, you looked at me like that was the dumbest question in the world. It is something you really enjoy and are very good at doing. You are so competitive and kept track of the score all season, even though we weren't supposed to.
You love Barbie, play houses, makeup, UNO, Match games, and anything artsy. You love smoothies, pizza, cinnamon sticks, popcorn and M & M's. Your favorite shows right now are Scooby Doo, Doc McStuffins, and Word Girl.
You have a big heart and the desire to love others. You have a good understanding of God and challenge me often because your faith is great. You simply make our life better, because you are our Natalie girl.
My prayer for you is that you remain your independent, fiesty, competitive, sweet, self. I pray that you have great friends who love God and love you. I pray you never forget how special you are because God created you for such a time as this. I do not know where this life will lead you, but I do know if you love God and love others, it will be very,very good.
Keep smiling, posing, dancing, playing, climbing, kicking, singing, running, praying, and loving. You have spent the last six years doing all of that and more. I can't wait to see what God has laid out for you in a lifetime.
I love you Natalie, forever, for always, no matter what.
Happy Birthday!!!
Thursday, April 05, 2012
Easter
"What about the times when even followers get lost?
Cause we all get lost sometimes." ~Andrew Peterson
I've known this song for many years. This week; however, that line has played in my head repeatedly. I've thought a lot about Jesus. Specifically, Jesus in the garden. We spend so much time talking about how Jesus has shown us how to live. Indeed, he has. But, this week, it occurred to me, that he also showed us how to die.
None of us know when we will die. Some people meet death so suddenly, they probably had no time to prepare. Others are aware of it's approach, but even the best doctor cannot give them a specific date. I have gotten to be a fairly good guesser these days, but I get surprised all the time.
The blessing in disguise to knowing death is imminent is the opportunity to really live intentionally. People with terminal illnesses live with such a heightened sense of emotion. They get desperate more quickly and tired more suddenly. They focus on things that may seem trivial, but I promise that to them, it is deeply significant.
Jesus, knowing death was approaching, chose to have a last meal with his closest friends. He did the most mundane of tasks. He washed their feet. So servant like, it must have seemed strange to the disciples. He suddenly chose to focus on a task that needed to happen everyday. Then he fed them. He broke bread and provided a cup that has changed history. But at the time, on that night, did the disciples even realize it was more then just supper? Did they really believe it was his last?
Then, Jesus moved to the garden. Now, often times I suggest to patient's family members to simply sit and be present with the patient. Soak up the moment and say the important things. Jesus asked his very closest friends to walk with him into the garden and "keep watch with me." Is it possible that the Son of God didn't want to be alone either? Was he somehow comforted by their presence? It helps me understand his frustration a bit more that they kept falling asleep. It also helps me to understand my patients restlessness. Patients appear to lose the ability to remember that other people have activities that must be completed. Now, I would never suggest that the Son of God forgot the disciples needed to sleep. I simply think that in the heightened sense of comparing life and death, their sleeping seemed quite unnecessary.
Jesus prayed for it not to happen. So many people are not necessarily scared to die. They are scared of the process of dying. They want to know how, what it will feel like, and when they just will not be aware any more. Contrary to some opinions, hospice does not speed up the process of someone's death, so while I can give you signs and symptoms of dying, I cannot tell you exactly what will happen. Jesus knew. He knew how he was going to die. He knew when. He knew by whose hand and he knew, that ultimately, he would be very much alone. I simply cannot imagine the agony I would be in tonight, if tomorrow I knew I would be crucified. I cannot imagine the desperation I would have.
Finally, Jesus allowed it. He committed his Spirit into God's hands and breathed his last. He let go. He completed his mission and he died.
He got to move on and conquer death. I would dare all of this to never forget the Bible calls death an enemy. Jesus conquering it means eternal life for believers, but it does not mean death is no longer an enemy of God. It drives me crazy when people try to comfort grievers by saying, "They are in a better place." Fact is death always has and always will hurt. It separates and destroys a relationship as we know it. Nothing will ever be the same and that is very, very sad.
Yes, we have hope. I Thessalonians tells us not to grieve as those who have no hope. It's does not say, not to grieve at all. Jesus wept when his friend died. It is allowed.
Sometimes, life and death are hard. Sometimes we just need to cry. Sometimes we need our friends. And sometimes, we need to surrender. All the time, we have hope.
"There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll
In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold
And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone
All His friends are sleeping and He's weeping all alone
And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought
So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God
Cause we all get lost sometimes." ~Andrew Peterson
I've known this song for many years. This week; however, that line has played in my head repeatedly. I've thought a lot about Jesus. Specifically, Jesus in the garden. We spend so much time talking about how Jesus has shown us how to live. Indeed, he has. But, this week, it occurred to me, that he also showed us how to die.
None of us know when we will die. Some people meet death so suddenly, they probably had no time to prepare. Others are aware of it's approach, but even the best doctor cannot give them a specific date. I have gotten to be a fairly good guesser these days, but I get surprised all the time.
The blessing in disguise to knowing death is imminent is the opportunity to really live intentionally. People with terminal illnesses live with such a heightened sense of emotion. They get desperate more quickly and tired more suddenly. They focus on things that may seem trivial, but I promise that to them, it is deeply significant.
Jesus, knowing death was approaching, chose to have a last meal with his closest friends. He did the most mundane of tasks. He washed their feet. So servant like, it must have seemed strange to the disciples. He suddenly chose to focus on a task that needed to happen everyday. Then he fed them. He broke bread and provided a cup that has changed history. But at the time, on that night, did the disciples even realize it was more then just supper? Did they really believe it was his last?
Then, Jesus moved to the garden. Now, often times I suggest to patient's family members to simply sit and be present with the patient. Soak up the moment and say the important things. Jesus asked his very closest friends to walk with him into the garden and "keep watch with me." Is it possible that the Son of God didn't want to be alone either? Was he somehow comforted by their presence? It helps me understand his frustration a bit more that they kept falling asleep. It also helps me to understand my patients restlessness. Patients appear to lose the ability to remember that other people have activities that must be completed. Now, I would never suggest that the Son of God forgot the disciples needed to sleep. I simply think that in the heightened sense of comparing life and death, their sleeping seemed quite unnecessary.
Jesus prayed for it not to happen. So many people are not necessarily scared to die. They are scared of the process of dying. They want to know how, what it will feel like, and when they just will not be aware any more. Contrary to some opinions, hospice does not speed up the process of someone's death, so while I can give you signs and symptoms of dying, I cannot tell you exactly what will happen. Jesus knew. He knew how he was going to die. He knew when. He knew by whose hand and he knew, that ultimately, he would be very much alone. I simply cannot imagine the agony I would be in tonight, if tomorrow I knew I would be crucified. I cannot imagine the desperation I would have.
Finally, Jesus allowed it. He committed his Spirit into God's hands and breathed his last. He let go. He completed his mission and he died.
He got to move on and conquer death. I would dare all of this to never forget the Bible calls death an enemy. Jesus conquering it means eternal life for believers, but it does not mean death is no longer an enemy of God. It drives me crazy when people try to comfort grievers by saying, "They are in a better place." Fact is death always has and always will hurt. It separates and destroys a relationship as we know it. Nothing will ever be the same and that is very, very sad.
Yes, we have hope. I Thessalonians tells us not to grieve as those who have no hope. It's does not say, not to grieve at all. Jesus wept when his friend died. It is allowed.
Sometimes, life and death are hard. Sometimes we just need to cry. Sometimes we need our friends. And sometimes, we need to surrender. All the time, we have hope.
"There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll
In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold
And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone
All His friends are sleeping and He's weeping all alone
And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought
So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God
Saturday, February 11, 2012
A blur
"I've made some calls, you need to go straight to the ER at Wolfson's to be admitted. Do you know where that is? You need to go immediately."
"Micah Hall? Ok no triage, straight back."
"He could go septic and need to be intubated."
"We don't have time to figure this out Mom, we have to pull out the big guns."
"This is advancing so rapidly just since he's been here, he has to go to ICU."
"You have to know we are risking kidney failure."
"it is either Stevens-Johnson's syndrome or Staph scalded skin syndrome, both present similarly, but we have to determine which it is because they are treated very differently."
"(to some students, not us) You see, it's called this because that's what it looks like, it looks like a bucket of scalding hot water was thrown on him."
And pause.
That is what he looks like. He's unrecognizable. When I returned to our room from the bathroom in ICU I looked in his room and kept walking. As I'm typing this, his face is still red and peeling, as is the rest of him, but he looks like Micah again. The swelling is gone and the blistering has stopped. In some ways this week feels like one long day. In other ways it feels like months since I was at work or out of this hospital.
I knew every parent would feel helpless in this situation. I now know helpless doesn't begin to describe it. The only things I was capable of were to hug him, touch him, rock him, or simply hold his hand. But any of that caused him sheer agony. I just sat beside his bed gowned up in my isolation gear and thought about how much I didn't want him to feel isolated.
At last count, Micah was seen by nine different specialties in the first 12 hours of his admission. (his hospital bill should be crazy to sort through) Everyone had their own opinion about which of the two diagnosis Micah had. My brother told us to insist on a dermatology consult. We didn't have to insist, they had already called her. She couldn't come until evening, but she would see him. Uncle DJ said, "this is the only time you need a dermatologist urgently, she needs to get there now, it's her time to shine". When she arrived, earlier then promised, she looked over my sweet boy and said, " look I am here cause there are a lot of big dogs arguing over what is wrong with your son." She points to the nurses station and I see two of Micah's doctors standing there watching us. "So they called me in to settle the argument." She went on to explain the very small differences in the two disorders. She did a biopsy for confirmation, but left 99% positive of her diagnosis. Staph Scalded Skin Syndrome.
Once Micah started getting four different antibiotics and countless people praying for him, his condition made rapid improvements. One of the best things about modern technology is within minutes, people all over the world can be praying for a need. We have so much love and support from everyone here and our faraway family and friends.
The scenario could have been so different. If our pediatrician had not sent us to the hospital when he did, Micah could have died. It feels very surreal to even type that sentence. In less than 24 hours he goes from a rashy looking sunburn to the ICU. I've said before that because of my job, I live with a heightened sense of awareness that no one is guaranteed tomorrow. I live my life often reflecting that thought, keeping it in mind for myself and those around me. However, I learned this week, that I don't think that about my children. It is never on my radar that they could be gone in a moment. I still feel guilty that I got frustrated with him Tuesday night for not wanting to get out of his oatmeal bath. It was bedtime and I wanted him to sleep. In hindsight, I now know his skin was scalding, and I was demanding him out of the water. I know I didn't know in the moment how sick he was, but I truly think I will feel guilt over that moment forever.
I sat at his bedside Wednesday afternoon, trying to think about the last time I held him, pain free. I decided it was Monday after his lab work. Blissfully unaware of my future desperation to simply hold him, I carried him through the parking garage looking at all the cool cars.
And now, here I type. In the hospital beside my sleeping miracle. My God went before us and took care of the details boy. My Micah Man who has charmed the doctors, nurses, and all the staff with his personality. My rare little boy who went out of his way to prove his rarity by getting a syndrome that some pediatricians don't witness ever.
I know he's rare, I just hope he doesn't feel the need to prove that to us again. One scare in this life is enough.
I've decided God truly uses music to console me during stress. Throughout the hospital stay these same few lines to a song ran through my head. Each time Micah was in pain or someone was having to hurt him to accomplish a test, these lines danced through my brain again. Oddly enough, I don't know the song well and had to google it.
So the above scenario went something like this:
"I've made some calls, you need to go straight to the ER at Wolfsons to be admitted. Do you know where that is? You need to go immediately."
-This is where the healing begins
"Micah Hall? Ok no triage, straight back."
-This is where the healing starts
"He could go septic and need to be intubated."
-When you come to where your broken within
"We don't have time to figure this out ,Mom, we have to pull out the big guns."
-This is where the healing begins
"this is advancing so rapidly just since he's been here, he has to go ICU"
-This is where the healing starts
"You have to know we are risking kidney failure."
-When you come to where your broken within
"it is either Stevens-Johnson's syndrome or Staph scalded skin syndrome, both present similarly, but we have to determine which it is because they are treated very differently."
-This is where the healing begins
"(to some students, not us) You see, it's called this because thats what it looks like, it looks like a bucket of scalding hot water was thrown on him"
-This is where the healing starts
We journeyed through this for reasons unknown. But we absolutely did not journey it alone. God showed up like He always does and reminded us that He is God. And all of you, loved, prayed, supported us.
With an eternally grateful heart, seeing God all over my little boy, thank you for your prayers.
His health is a miracle.
So is ours.
"So let it fall down
There's freedom waiting in the sound
When you let your walls fall to the ground
We're here now
We're here now, oh
This is where the healing begins, oh
This is where the healing starts
When you come to where you're broken within
The light meets the dark
The light meets the dark"
`Tenth Avenue North
"Micah Hall? Ok no triage, straight back."
"He could go septic and need to be intubated."
"We don't have time to figure this out Mom, we have to pull out the big guns."
"This is advancing so rapidly just since he's been here, he has to go to ICU."
"You have to know we are risking kidney failure."
"it is either Stevens-Johnson's syndrome or Staph scalded skin syndrome, both present similarly, but we have to determine which it is because they are treated very differently."
"(to some students, not us) You see, it's called this because that's what it looks like, it looks like a bucket of scalding hot water was thrown on him."
And pause.
That is what he looks like. He's unrecognizable. When I returned to our room from the bathroom in ICU I looked in his room and kept walking. As I'm typing this, his face is still red and peeling, as is the rest of him, but he looks like Micah again. The swelling is gone and the blistering has stopped. In some ways this week feels like one long day. In other ways it feels like months since I was at work or out of this hospital.
I knew every parent would feel helpless in this situation. I now know helpless doesn't begin to describe it. The only things I was capable of were to hug him, touch him, rock him, or simply hold his hand. But any of that caused him sheer agony. I just sat beside his bed gowned up in my isolation gear and thought about how much I didn't want him to feel isolated.
At last count, Micah was seen by nine different specialties in the first 12 hours of his admission. (his hospital bill should be crazy to sort through) Everyone had their own opinion about which of the two diagnosis Micah had. My brother told us to insist on a dermatology consult. We didn't have to insist, they had already called her. She couldn't come until evening, but she would see him. Uncle DJ said, "this is the only time you need a dermatologist urgently, she needs to get there now, it's her time to shine". When she arrived, earlier then promised, she looked over my sweet boy and said, " look I am here cause there are a lot of big dogs arguing over what is wrong with your son." She points to the nurses station and I see two of Micah's doctors standing there watching us. "So they called me in to settle the argument." She went on to explain the very small differences in the two disorders. She did a biopsy for confirmation, but left 99% positive of her diagnosis. Staph Scalded Skin Syndrome.
Once Micah started getting four different antibiotics and countless people praying for him, his condition made rapid improvements. One of the best things about modern technology is within minutes, people all over the world can be praying for a need. We have so much love and support from everyone here and our faraway family and friends.
The scenario could have been so different. If our pediatrician had not sent us to the hospital when he did, Micah could have died. It feels very surreal to even type that sentence. In less than 24 hours he goes from a rashy looking sunburn to the ICU. I've said before that because of my job, I live with a heightened sense of awareness that no one is guaranteed tomorrow. I live my life often reflecting that thought, keeping it in mind for myself and those around me. However, I learned this week, that I don't think that about my children. It is never on my radar that they could be gone in a moment. I still feel guilty that I got frustrated with him Tuesday night for not wanting to get out of his oatmeal bath. It was bedtime and I wanted him to sleep. In hindsight, I now know his skin was scalding, and I was demanding him out of the water. I know I didn't know in the moment how sick he was, but I truly think I will feel guilt over that moment forever.
I sat at his bedside Wednesday afternoon, trying to think about the last time I held him, pain free. I decided it was Monday after his lab work. Blissfully unaware of my future desperation to simply hold him, I carried him through the parking garage looking at all the cool cars.
And now, here I type. In the hospital beside my sleeping miracle. My God went before us and took care of the details boy. My Micah Man who has charmed the doctors, nurses, and all the staff with his personality. My rare little boy who went out of his way to prove his rarity by getting a syndrome that some pediatricians don't witness ever.
I know he's rare, I just hope he doesn't feel the need to prove that to us again. One scare in this life is enough.
I've decided God truly uses music to console me during stress. Throughout the hospital stay these same few lines to a song ran through my head. Each time Micah was in pain or someone was having to hurt him to accomplish a test, these lines danced through my brain again. Oddly enough, I don't know the song well and had to google it.
So the above scenario went something like this:
"I've made some calls, you need to go straight to the ER at Wolfsons to be admitted. Do you know where that is? You need to go immediately."
-This is where the healing begins
"Micah Hall? Ok no triage, straight back."
-This is where the healing starts
"He could go septic and need to be intubated."
-When you come to where your broken within
"We don't have time to figure this out ,Mom, we have to pull out the big guns."
-This is where the healing begins
"this is advancing so rapidly just since he's been here, he has to go ICU"
-This is where the healing starts
"You have to know we are risking kidney failure."
-When you come to where your broken within
"it is either Stevens-Johnson's syndrome or Staph scalded skin syndrome, both present similarly, but we have to determine which it is because they are treated very differently."
-This is where the healing begins
"(to some students, not us) You see, it's called this because thats what it looks like, it looks like a bucket of scalding hot water was thrown on him"
-This is where the healing starts
We journeyed through this for reasons unknown. But we absolutely did not journey it alone. God showed up like He always does and reminded us that He is God. And all of you, loved, prayed, supported us.
With an eternally grateful heart, seeing God all over my little boy, thank you for your prayers.
His health is a miracle.
So is ours.
"So let it fall down
There's freedom waiting in the sound
When you let your walls fall to the ground
We're here now
We're here now, oh
This is where the healing begins, oh
This is where the healing starts
When you come to where you're broken within
The light meets the dark
The light meets the dark"
`Tenth Avenue North
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
It's been a while
So it's been a while since I've blogged. It's not that I don't have anything to say. I have too much. My mind can't filter all the last few months have held. This afternoon, I was driving home from work. I'm playing music way too loud. I reason that I'm in traffic, I might as well drown out the other noise. Plus, it drowns out some of the day too. I'm singing these words,
"Because you had a bad day, you're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know, you tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride."
As I'm replaying my day, I look to my left. It's one of those moments where irony drips off everything you see. There is the homeless man, holding up a sign. "God bless you." Wow. Perspective. I believe, no matter what, it is possible that my day has been better then his.
God has been teaching me a lot about perspective lately. We often compare ourselves to others, making us feel worse or better. It's funny because my comparison to the homeless man doesn't really make my own day any better. I still had a really hard day. It just simply reminds me that other people also have hard days. Harder then any day I could imagine. And that knowledge makes me want to help.
Nicole Johnson (from women of faith) calls these "drop your rock" moments. You know those moments, when we suddenly have a loved one drug across the line and into a circle that we drew a long time ago. We get ready to throw our rock till we see THEIR face and realize it is recognizable to us.
We yell and scream about illegal immigrants. I talk to an entire family who would rather live in hiding here then face death in their own country. They have tried the "right" channels here, but have been unsuccessful Rather then return to sheer madness, they cling to each other here. Tell me that I wouldn't seek refuge for my own family in such a situation.
Everyone is applauding Florida for drug testing people on "welfare". It's costing the state far more money then we are saving, because oddly enough, all the anecdotal stories are wrong. Most people who need help, actually aren't using drugs. Tell me I wouldn't be the first in line if my kids needed food.
It's the hospital staff who believe a family is making a terrible choice by not sitting at the bedside of their possibly dying mom. Has anyone shared that this particular family also has a dying grandmother, and a dad trying to love on everyone. They are choosing to be with the loved one who still recognizes their presence. Tell me I wouldn't make the same choice.
It's the big picture. The rare glimpses we all get at the most random of moments. Clarity. We rub our eyes, drop our rocks, and suddenly can read what is written in the sand. Some days, like today, I just have to wonder if Jesus wrote one word:
Perspective.
"Because you had a bad day, you're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know, you tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride."
As I'm replaying my day, I look to my left. It's one of those moments where irony drips off everything you see. There is the homeless man, holding up a sign. "God bless you." Wow. Perspective. I believe, no matter what, it is possible that my day has been better then his.
God has been teaching me a lot about perspective lately. We often compare ourselves to others, making us feel worse or better. It's funny because my comparison to the homeless man doesn't really make my own day any better. I still had a really hard day. It just simply reminds me that other people also have hard days. Harder then any day I could imagine. And that knowledge makes me want to help.
Nicole Johnson (from women of faith) calls these "drop your rock" moments. You know those moments, when we suddenly have a loved one drug across the line and into a circle that we drew a long time ago. We get ready to throw our rock till we see THEIR face and realize it is recognizable to us.
We yell and scream about illegal immigrants. I talk to an entire family who would rather live in hiding here then face death in their own country. They have tried the "right" channels here, but have been unsuccessful Rather then return to sheer madness, they cling to each other here. Tell me that I wouldn't seek refuge for my own family in such a situation.
Everyone is applauding Florida for drug testing people on "welfare". It's costing the state far more money then we are saving, because oddly enough, all the anecdotal stories are wrong. Most people who need help, actually aren't using drugs. Tell me I wouldn't be the first in line if my kids needed food.
It's the hospital staff who believe a family is making a terrible choice by not sitting at the bedside of their possibly dying mom. Has anyone shared that this particular family also has a dying grandmother, and a dad trying to love on everyone. They are choosing to be with the loved one who still recognizes their presence. Tell me I wouldn't make the same choice.
It's the big picture. The rare glimpses we all get at the most random of moments. Clarity. We rub our eyes, drop our rocks, and suddenly can read what is written in the sand. Some days, like today, I just have to wonder if Jesus wrote one word:
Perspective.
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