Stationery card

The Perfect Gift Religious Christmas Card

Find unique and modern Christmas cards at Shutterfly.

View the entire collection of cards.

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

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.

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!!!

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

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

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.

This week

"Is there anyone else she would be waiting on", the nurse asked me sometime around three am Sunday morning. His question interrupted a flood of thoughts that came to a sudden stop when he questioned me. I explained that we had a few more family members coming home today and she may just be waiting on them.

He left the room and I thought, "So this is what it feels like to be on the answering side of that question." I can't count how many times I've asked families this. I held tight to Mamaw's hand, thankful that she was peaceful and appeared comfortable. I let my mind start it's flood again, one raindrop at a time.

I'm sitting at her counter with Andrea, Matthew, and DJ. We are tasting the hot homemade rolls and blackberry preserves freshly made from the blackberries we picked this morning.

I'm on her couch with the flu watching Mamaw call my mom and tell her how high my temp had gotten.

I'm fussing about going to see the movie Little Women cause I wanted to see something else.

I'm in her living room on Christmas Eve opening presents.

I'm celebrating with her because her magic potion (baking soda and vinegar) saved me from what my cousins called a "killer bee" sting.

I'm learning how to play checkers.

I'm giggling watching her chin quiver when she tries not to cry at something sweet.

I'm just swimming through my childhood and adulthood, amazed that God would give me such a Godly Grandmother.

Then I wonder how in the world we got here.

I was supposed to be off this week to help Mamaw get settled in at home. She was supposed to leave the hospital on Monday to go home with hospice. Last Thursday she had asked Mom how many more nights until she got to go home. Together, Mom and Mamaw counted the nights until Monday. Mom told her that she would be leaving the hospital at eleven am Monday morning. Obviously, we all knew she wasn't well. But this was not in the plan. Then Friday morning, mom calls and tells me that Mamaw had developed a bit of a rattling sound and her levels weren't good. Mom was trying to decide if DJ should come home. I went ahead and called Sarah. I told them that if they wanted to have a good conversation with Mamaw they should probably come on home. It just worked out perfectly for them to fly in on Saturday. Later Friday night, I was driving around wondering if I jumped too soon. Wondering, if they really should come on home. I prayed and asked God for a message. Within a few minutes a devotional came on the radio. It was all about the quote, "enjoy yourself, it's later then you think." Message received, DJ and I both need to get home. I decide to go on home on Saturday now too, instead of Sunday as planned. Then late Friday night, Mom calls me and says the hospital had called them. Mamaw was only breathing four breaths a minute. Instantly my mind was racing. I couldn't sleep, couldn't focus. So at four am I got up, finished packing and left with Micah to get home as fast as possible. I happened to drive through Charlotte perfectly to pick up DJ and Sarah and we made it to the hospital. After one look at Mamaw I could tell, it was indeed much later then I thought.

The nurse came back in. I don't know what time it is, but I'm still holding her hand. She's comfortable so he leaves and I go back to my thoughts. As I start to drift off to sleep this song, There is a Redeemer, started going through my head:
"thank you oh my father,
For giving us your Son.
And for leaving your Spirit,
Til your work on earth is done."
Random enough, but I found myself singing it over and over.

I pondered Mamaw's last words to all of us, "tell the grandkids to be good to each other and to love each other."

Now it's six am Sunday morning. Mom and I are both very confused about the time change. I watched as Mom read Mamaw her Bible, her devotional, and prayed with her. Sunday is such a blur of visitors, changes, and emotions. Sunday night, it became very obvious that Mamaw would not be with us here much longer. That same wonderful nurse had the night shift. He encouraged us to sleep. I just couldn't. I held her hand again and reminded myself to breathe during the pauses that she didn't.

My racing thoughts now turned from memories to faith. A faith that Mamaw lived all of the time. I thought about how much God was there. His work was all over Mamaw and everything around us. I saw God in my rockstar sister in law, Sarah. She managed to seamlessly take care of Micah, Annalee, and all of us while very much grieving herself. God was with each visitor as they walked in with food, encouragement, and most of all love. God was allowing us to read the scrapbook to Mamaw so she at least got to hear how grateful we all are for her life. God kept Mamaw from being in significant pain. God allowed Papaw to sit beside her as she journeyed away from this life. God allowed the immediate family members time with her, and got us all home. Looking back, I see His fingerprints everywhere.

Mamaw died at 11:02 Monday morning. Surrounded by her family, with a room full of people, she simply stopped breathing.

"Thank you Oh my Father,
For giving us your Son,
And for leaving your Spirit,

Her work on earth is done."

We are all so worried about Papaw. He told all of us that they were married for sixty six years, two months, and seven days. He is sad and grieving. This morning, however, he tells me, "I'm just looking to do God's will." He is forever a follower of Christ. His work, for whatever reason, is meant to continue and he can already acknowledge that.

Yet again, I see God. I will never stop learning from God or from Papaw.

I too want to seek God's will. I can't shake the feeling that, for all of us, it really is later then we think.

Maranatha!

The Animals

Something about petting that crazy chicken today made me laugh. Reading Rachel's comment about catching the cat reminded me of so many stories. I've worked several jobs since college, but each have involved making home visits. Because of this, I've accumulated quite a few animal stories. Because I need to giggle and take a trip down memory lane, I'll share a few stories with you.

My first crazy encounter of the animal kind occurred when I was working as a crisis counselor for flood victims. This is also when I learned to always, always, take a 360 look around a home when I first walk in. Oh my, how naive I was just out of college. :-) Anyways, I walked inside this trailer and I was looking at the male owner sitting on his couch across the front door. I had a wall behind me. I did notice these crazy looking fish to my right. I started to hear this noise behind me, this scratch, scratch noise. Then I heard something moving, something squeaky. I looked at my partner who was facing the wall behind me and I noticed that his eyes were huge. I debated turning around. Part of me didn't want to know. Finally I slowly did and to my horror, there were mice cages stacked the length of the wall from floor to ceiling. The man obviously noticed us, noticing his mice. I very calmly asked him why he would have so many. He said he had them to feed his snakes and his fish. Somehow, I knew not to ask or say another thing. My partner didn't. He asked if he really fed the fish those mice. The man said, "Sure I do, here I'll show you." Then he did. I tried not to watch. I didn't want to see, but like all train wrecks, my eyes veered that direction. Sure enough, those dumb fish were eating that poor mouse.

Note to self, in your next job, don't do home visits.

A few years later, I'm working with mentally ill individuals. I have a wonderful schizophrenic who was not going to be returning home for a long time. Somehow, I was tasked with taking her cat to the shelter. I was blessed with my dear friend Rachel, who I managed to talk into assisting me with this task. This cat HATED people. We tried being nice. I promise we did. By my recollection, we tried treats, we tried food, we tried calling her, we tried toys, and being really quite. We ended with a broom, a blanket, a cage and a lot of screaming. We won.

Note to self, in my next job, don't voluntarily do things like this.

Flash forward a few more years, now I'm at hospice. I'm talking to this lady about her mom's death. Her mom, who had died a few hours before, is laying in the hospital bed beside us. I'm trying to convince this nice lady that she has to let her mom go to a funeral home. (A whole other story). Suddenly I feel this pain, shoot up from my ankle. I raise my leg and there is this dog, hanging off the back of my leg. I had no idea the Yorkie was there and suddenly I'm drop kicking it across the room. Not the best thing to do to a family who has just experienced a death.

Note to self, 360 glance is not enough, check under objects.

Just about a month ago, I'm sitting at a kitchen table writing some information about family members. I feel something over my shoulder. I look and I am eye to eye with a mastiff. He snorts in my face and lays down. Fine. Then I feel something at my feet. A bull dog has decided that my cute shoe must be eaten, while I'm wearing them. I try not to call attention to this as the daughter of my patient is crying. I move my feet. I push the dog away. I finally take off my shoes and put them behind me. That's when the dog licked the bottom of my feet. I shrieked because it tickled and almost jumped into my nurses lap. I had to then explain why I was barefoot.

Note to self, just wear my sketchers. Forget that I own any other shoes.

Let me fast forward through chasing a dog down the street, inheriting our current dog Mocha from a schizophrenic, a snake, and a random collection of dead sea animals in aquariums full of formaldehyde.

Now, all my lessons learned lead me to today. I walk in the home. My 360 glance does not immediately send off any red flags. But wait, what is that on the back porch under the table? Yep, it's a chicken. Second glance. Chickens. OK, because of another long story that involves me running from two chickens while a patients husband watched on security cameras, I'm not a fan of chickens. But, I'm wearing my sketchers and they are on the back porch, I'll be fine. My nurse arrives and I, knowing she doesn't adhere to my 360 rule, quietly point out the chickens. The son sees her glance towards the porch and starts to talk about how sweet and nice chickens are. I smile and nod. I'm still glad they are outside. He asks if I'm afraid. I make a comment about being pecked before, but really have nothing against chickens in general. I then turn and talk to my patient. I feel his son sit next to me on the couch. He is holding a big fat chicken. "Go ahead and pet her" he says. So, I do. I pet the stupid chicken sitting on the couch, in the middle of a beautiful home, in the city.

Note to self, I'd be so bored sitting in a cubicle all day.

Happy 2nd Birthday Micah!

Dear Micah,

I first started these letters to Natalie when she was two. I am determined to remember the little details of who you all are at each age. You are absolutely a little man.

I just left your room a minute ago. You are surrounded by stuffed animals, mostly dogs. It seems that each night you add another one to your collection. We've quickly gone from allowing nothing in your bed to hardly being able to find you amongst all the stuffed things. You threw away your pacifiers a few nights ago. We cut them so they would lose the suction. You had six in your bed and tried each one of them. You sighed and handed them to me one by one, saying "boken mama, boken." I told you we had better throw them away. You stood at the trash can and tried each of them one more time before throwing them in the trash. Then you simply said, "bye paci's" and you were done. You haven't asked for them since.

You are however, the master at delaying bedtime. I can't count how many times you ask for water or a light or the covers each night. Even when you are exhausted, you push the limits. You have learned to open your door and sneak out. Fortunately for us, you slam it closed behind you, so we find you in the hallway each time.

You have learned to count to six. When you play your toy drum you tap the sticks together and say "two, three four." We aren't sure who you have heard doing that, but Daddy is so excited. He says we need a drummer in the Buchanan family. You love all things music. At church you start singing most songs on the second chorus, like you are observing at first and don't want to sing it wrong.

When driving down the road, you always point out planes, boats, busses, bikes, and helmets. You feel the need to point to your own head each time you see a biker wearing a helmet. You love watching Curious George and think Elmo is the best. You always want music on while driving. Your favorite is Sadie Hawkins Dance, but you will allow us to play other songs that Bob and Larry (veggie tales) sing.

Wait a minute...

I'm back now, I just had to give you some water...

You know mostly all your colors. You love to point at everything and tell us what color it is. I think I have to give credit to daycare for this. You knew most of them before we even realized it.

You love Heidi! She is your favorite friend. I love to watch you two play and interact. It's fun to know you've had a friend since the day you were born. Heidi gave you a basketball hoop for your birthday. You love it too and always tell us you want to play with your "ball hoop."

You also love Natalie/Sissy. Everywhere she goes, you go. You've just recently started battling with her and being more assertive. For the most part though, you just really want to play with her. She is quiet protective of you and you are of her. You defend each other when time outs are given. Natalie had to go to time out the other day. You put your hand on your forehead and said, "oh no sissy!"

As you can tell, you talk ALOT. Much more then Natalie did at this age. You are articulate and so funny. You play air guitar, dance your heart out, and love to do flips in our living room.

Most of all, you are gentle and kind. You take care of all of us and our dogs. You give the biggest hugs and slobber filled kisses. You still scream "mama!!!" when I get home from work. You quietly whisper "love too" before I leave your room at night. I pray that you always maintain such a gentle spirit. It is welcoming and charming. I pray that you always hear God whispering how much he loves you and you are forever able to say to Him, "love too." I pray you grow to be a man who loves God and loves others with as much as energy as you show us all the time.

I love you so much Micah man!

Good night!

Kindergarten

I stood in the dressing room with Natalie tonight, watching her strike pose after pose while she tried on new outfits for Kindergarten. She kept calling me "darling". She was cracking herself up and chattering on and on about her new school.

She is so very excited. I am too. I just keep wondering how it's possible that she is this old? I know every parent feels this way. I know all of us say that time goes by too fast and we blink and they are grown. I've tried so hard to soak up the moments with her and yet, I was simply awe struck tonight by the idea of kindergarten. Here it is, the school schedules, the routine, the homework, the friends, lunches, and drama. I know she is ready. I'm not so sure that Chris and I are. In fact, I think I'm scared. I'm afraid she won't have something she needs or we will forget to tell her something. I'm afraid I'll somehow set her up to get picked on. I'm hoping these feelings are normal, right? I know I can't shelter her from everything. And I know despite our best efforts, some kid out there will be mean to her at some point. I know she has to go.

I also know I'm grateful for this beautiful little girl that she is now. I'm just not so sure how to drop her off into this whole new world.

"Darling," says Natalie.

I snap back from my racing thoughts to see her with her nose to the mirror making a smashed face against it.

"Yes, Natalie?"

"Did you know I can see three of me in these mirrors unless I smash my face like this, then I can only see one?"

I laugh at her and think that's how I feel right now. All smashed up against this new venture. I step away and see my baby girl in my arms, my teenage girl in the mirror, and this beautiful Kindergartner right in front of me.

"I see all three of you darling. All of the time."

The Job

I hardly ever look because I really don't want to know the number. But tonight I did, I looked at the obituaries. One of my patients had a sweet wife who blogged regularly about their journey. Her last blog entry was a link to his obituary. So, against my better judgement, I clicked on the link.

I knew three tonight on the death notice list. So I read all three and laughed at some of the details I already knew. We have had a lot of deaths this week on our little team. Today I could feel the impact in the room as everyone suddenly got tearful. I don't cry much, but today was hard.

It is hard because we had some long time patients that died. Hard because we had some ethical issues that I still haven't sorted out in my mind. Hard because we have had an amazingly high number of young patients with young children. Hard because of good questions without good answers. Hard because the job is so fast paced there is absolutely no time to sit and process anything. Hard simply because it is a hard job.

I ended the day talking to the spouse of another young patient. I choked back tears as he discussed her now very rapid decline. He is always so calm and organized. He discussed their daughters. He was discussing some of their behaviors and I gently pointed out they were being very "girl" in some ways. I told him a couple of things about girls that I could honestly tell he didn't really know. He's a really good dad and my heart broke as we talked. This is the kind of thing his wife would have told him, if she wasn't so sick. Although that thought was never spoken between us, it didn't have to be. Our call wrapped up with a scheduled visit for me to see those precious girls again. He told me that one of the daughters asked him why this would happen to their mom if God is supposedly good. We joked that we were glad our chaplain is joining me during the next visit. Then, I asked him some questions and suggested she is only asking what most adults are thinking. For the first time, I heard the emotion in his voice when he agreed. For a while, I just listened. They are strong Christians, so we talked briefly about the Bible. I gently posed the thought that God hates death too, which is why He sent Jesus to conquer it. This husband agreed.

Hard because it just is. Hard because God is good even when nothing around us feels like it.

Hard because we still live on this side of His soon coming Kingdom...

Today She is Five

In keeping with tradition, I'm going to share some thoughts today that are all about Natalie on the day she turned five.

Dear Natalie,

I am writing this from our hotel balcony listening to the ocean waves. You have been counting down for months to your birthday this year. I asked you what you wanted to do and you said, "I want to go to the beach and stay for days." You look just like your Daddy, but statements like these make me know you are all mine too.

It's been a big year for you. You have graduated from VPK and have learned so much. You can add and subtract. You know how to read several words, and have become very quick at 100 piece puzzles.

You played your first year of soccer and were really good. I'll never forget how aggressive and competitive you are. One day when the coach from the other team lined his girl up right in front of you, you leaned around her shoulder and said, "I can still see the ball." I was shocked and proud all in the same moment. You also love to dance. You couldn't wait for your recital and all that is girly. You had so much fun getting ready with Emma.

You are so very independent. If there is a possibility you can do it by yourself, then you will. You are stubborn, strong, and loud. And you have one of the most contagious laughs I have ever heard.

Daddy and I have agonized over the decision about kindergarten this year. Because you are a summer baby, I have always envisioned you going to school when you are six. However, you are more then ready now and this has only become more clear to us over the last few months. You tell everyone that you are going to kindergarten. You talk about it all the time. As much as you are ready, I am sure I am not. But like all things you, it's coming whether I'm ready or not.

You are good to Micah. He can push you to the limits, but you help him. It makes my heart smile every time you say, "come on little buddy" and do something kind with Micah.

You remain a Daddy's girl and probably will be for forever. I'm really fine with that. We have started weekly "girls talk" in your room. One night a week I lay in your room for a while after bed time and we talk about any and everything. I've learned more about you in those twenty minutes then I do all day. You have close friends, secrets, hurts, fears, and even dreams. I hope that we can pray and talk through them all.

All day today, you have said you are five. You commented that it doesn't feel much different then four yet. For today, I know it doesn't. Somehow, life ends of being a series of days that don't feel much different from the other until we look up and see a lifetime. Five feels so different to me. The sand castle Daddy and you made this morning was washed away by the tide tonight. Watching the ocean always reminds me that nothing ever stays the same. As hard as it is, I want you to grow, I want you to change, I want you to live and love with all that God has given to you. This year too will come and go but you will be different still. As much as I try to soak up all the days with you, I'm often left wondering where the sand castle went. I constantly have to remind myself to be in awe of the little girl you are today and not look back to figure out how it all went by so fast. Four is not that much different then five. It's just a day. A day we spent together. Loving each other forever, for always, no matter what.

It's important to know that a few things in life, like love, never change.

I love you!

Mommy

Forever

A patient died today that I will remember for the rest of my life. I meet so many new people for brief periods of time, that it is not possible to remember them all. But there are a few who manage to make a deep, lasting, impact on my life. She was certainly one of them.

She believed, believed, believed, that she was going to get a miracle. Actually, she would have been mad if I said it like that. She believed she already had a miracle healing and she was just waiting for the rest of us to know too. She had this incredible faith in God and was convinced that He would grant her this healing.

And I wanted to believe.

I did.

I discussed her prognosis. I reviewed advanced directive planning. I begged her to allow our hospice chaplain to visit. I talked with him when she wouldn't. As she claimed Bible versus for healing, I suggested versus like Ecclesiastes, and "a time for everything." I asked her if there was any room in her faith to believe that God will grant her the miracle on the other side of eternity. She informed me, very politely, absolutely not. He was going to heal her. After every visit, I left, said a prayer and hoped against all odds she would indeed get her miracle.

One particular visit, she was in obvious pain, getting weaker, and was just not well. I talked with her caregiver and with the patient about all kinds of topics. I again, allowed her to share her faith with me. I just listened. I finally asked her again why completing a living will would be denying her faith. I reasoned that even Christians die, of something, and if she got her miracle, she would still need the living will eventually. I think to simply make me stop talking about it, she agreed to complete it. Then they discussed the Israelites in the wilderness. My patient's caregiver described various situations where she too was "in the wilderness." She said she was not going to complain in the wilderness because then God would not allow her to see the promise land. Every time, she said, that I just keep moving, God gives me something greater then I could imagine. More beautiful, bigger, brighter, and better then I even asked for. So, they are not going to complain in this wilderness.

I gave them both a hug and told them to call. I checked on her the next week and I could tell she was dying. I knew in my heart she would not live more then a week, unless she got her miracle. That was a week ago today.

As I got to know her better, I realized the reason she so desperately wanted this miracle had very little to do with her. She wanted it for her children, so they would return to the Lord and be saved. She wanted it to prove to them that there is a God. Her physical healing was secondary to their spiritual healing.

Days like today, I have to believe in a promise land. I have to cling to the knowledge that God will give her something greater then she asked or imagined. And because God works all things for the good of those who love him, I have to believe that He knows the best way to draw her children, His children to Himself. It made perfect sense to me that a miracle would convince them. Lucky for all of us that I'm not the Savior. Sometimes we are so grateful for the grace, we forget to praise Him for the mercy. I believe Jesus cried at Lazarus' grave because he knew Lazarus would die again. He knew this whole scene would happen again. And He hates death. Hates it. Which is why He came and He conquered it.

So she will stay with me. Her memory will be one that I think back on and ponder. She is also one that I am super excited to see again. When Jesus finally does return, I want to see her well and healed. I'm praying I'll get to see her real miracle:

I'm hoping I'll meet her children standing next to her.

"we pray for healing, prosperity, we pray for your might hand to ease our suffering,
but all the while, you hear each spoken need,
yet love us way to much to give us lesser things.
What if your blessing come through raindrops
what if your healing comes through tears
what if a thousand sleepless nights are what it takes to know your near
what if trials of this life are your mercies in disguise?
When friends betray us
when darkness seems to win
we know, the pain reminds this heart,
that this is not our home." ~Laura Story

My Wish

When I was pregnant with Natalie, I became a bit of a country music fan. As a result I listened to a lot of Rascal Flatts music before she was born. After I had Natalie we learned she could cry and scream loud. We also discovered that anytime we played the Rascal Flatt's song, My Wish, she would instantly quiet down. I mean immediately. We had a copy of the CD in each car and in the house. She fell asleep to it every night. It was like magic. Recently, Natalie heard me singing Jesus Loves Me to Micah as I was putting him to bed. She asked me what her "good night" song was. And I started singing, My Wish. It's easily been years since I sang it to her, but without missing a beat, she started singing the words with me. Even she looked surprised that she knew it.

My wish for you
Is that this life becomes all that you want it to
Your dreams stay big
Your worries stay small
You never need to carry more then you can hold.
And while your out there gettin where your gettin to
I hope you know somebody loves you
And wants the same things to
Yeah, this is my wish.

Recently I've had a lot of hospice patients who are very much alone. To a certain extent, I believe most of my patients have a sense of loneliness even when they are surrounded by dozens of loved ones. But in a room full of people, they still have to walk this journey alone. No one is going with them. It's something patients talk about, something they discuss in quiet, still moments.

The last few weeks, thanks to a much lower caseload, I've sat at bedsides longer and absorbed more of their stories. I've listened a lot and felt more like a social worker. I've ached as those who don't have a room full of people talk about their loneliness. How must if feel to only be taken care of by someone you are paying to do so?

One patient who has lost the use of his arms asked me to just bend his arm for a minute. He described how good it felt to bend it at the elbow after being still for a few hours. I asked him why he didn't ask his caregiver to bend his arm more often. He didn't want to bother her. How must it feel to ask someone to bend your arms?

I've assessed for all the natural supports, the family, the friends, spiritual support. Family is always a story. She told me her son comes when she calls, but his wife hates her, so she only calls when she has to. I reframe that this situation she was describing would qualify as a "has to." She says no. How must it feel to not call your only son when you are dying because it is not important enough to communicate to him?

I ask another patient about his friends. They used to be everywhere helping him. Now they are scared. They don't understand and they don't want to be responsible for his care. How must it feel to pay a stranger to be present when your best friend runs?

I just listen and listen and listen. I reframe, I encourage, I hug, I bend an elbow, I sit, I am present. More then anything, just simply, present.

Tonight, tucking Natalie in, she says I'll sing to you tonight.
"My wish for you"
I am struck by the brightness of her blue eyes and the slight way she has her head turned

"Is that this life becomes all that you want it to"
I want to not ever be that alone. I want the room full of family and friends. I want to always have a relationship with her and never know the pain of being estranged from my children.

...."and that you know somebody loves you."
Her eyes are a little sleepier and she lays her head on her pillow. I kiss her with tears in my eyes. I tell her I love her and that I'll see her at breakfast.

And as I walk out, I sing a line the to second verse,
"may you find God's grace in every mistake and give more then you take."

May she never know the deafness of an empty room. Ever.

How must it feel to be loved in the final moments of this life?

To love and be loved, that, is my wish.

Been thinking

I've had these thoughts spinning around in my head the last few weeks. Between a crashed home computer, non stop action, and the fact that the thoughts wouldn't stop spinning, I haven't been able to type. Tonight, I've hijacked Chris' work laptop, which I'm pretty sure is slower then Chris is right now after surgery.

Anyways, these thoughts. Every night I come home from work and we take care of the kids. Every night they go to bed and one of us cleans up the kitchen. Every night I go to bed with the counters cleared and dishes being washed in the dishwasher. But somehow, every night, I step into that kitchen and I wonder how in the world it became so messy when we spend most of the day away from home.

Then the guilt starts to set in. "I should spend more time with my kids." "I should have a cleaner house." "I should have ensured a healthier dinner tonight." "I need to help Natalie with her school project, when will find time for that?" "How can we possibly be so busy?" Usually, I have the kitchen cleaned back up about the time I have successfully beaten myself down.

Then, a change in thinking. Acceptance. It's something I talk about with people all the time. Now I'm starting to apply it. I'm starting to accept that not only am I not Martha Stewart, most days, I don't want to be. I'm accepting that we will have a messy house. Not dirty or stinky (I've been in some of the worst) but just messy. Each night, my house will look a tornado filled with toys, trash, sippy cups, and gold fish descended and stayed for a long, long time. I will always wish for more time. I'm accepting the busyness. I still don't like it, but until I acknowledge it, we will always be working around it. I'm accepting that I procrastinate. That even if we had every evening free for the two weeks leading up to Natalie's school projects, we probably still would not start it until the last possible moment. It's just who I am. It doesn't mean I won't work towards a better me, but it does mean I let the current me off the hook a bit.

Tonight I was putting Natalie to bed and she asked me to sing, "today has been." My mom sang this song to me growing up, I can close my eyes and still hear her singing it.
"Today has been a busy day,
A long and tiring one too,
So I must go to sleepy town,
My rest is long overdue.
Tomorrow will be another very,
Very busy day.
So I must go to sleepy town,
And fall asleep right away,
Yes, I must go to sleepy town,
And fall asleep right away."

Tonight I played with Natalie's hair and wondered what my mom thought about when she sang this song to me. Then I had to smile. Anyone that knew me growing up, knows we didn't keep a perfectly straight house. Mom always tells me she was going to teach me not to procrastinate, but never got around to it. We were super busy. And yet, I have to work to remember all of that. Memories that easily come are being sung to before bedtime, eating together almost every night, going to church, and having friends over. Somehow all of that was greater then the house. Somehow her love for us was simply what mattered.

So I closed Natalie's door tonight. I walked into the kitchen and smiled. Instead of beating myself up tonight, I called my mom. I talked with her while I was cleaning the kitchen. Then I laughed a lot when I heard the toilet flush through the phone. "I'm not going to the bathroom," she said, "I'm just cleaning the toilet while we talk."

Very thankful today that I'm more like my mom all of the time. I used to deny that, but I'm grateful for her. I would like to be more her then Martha any day, any time.

A life

I was sitting at a patients house yesterday. We were talking about his family, his friends, and his illness. He had the television on in the background. His daughter and his friend pointed out the news. The headline talked about a fatal accident. A young woman was killed. One of the family members commented about how they were glad they were not stuck in that traffic.

They continued on with their discussion of family. I kept thinking about their statement. Really? Traffic? The news said someone died and that was their response? I was a little shocked that in the face of death of their own family member a family can be so casual towards the death of another human being.

This morning, I found out that this accident took the life of my co-worker's niece. She was seven months pregnant. As I listened to her tears and hugged her with all my might, I thought back to that family. This was a life.

There was another car accident yesterday. This one took the life of one of my coworkers. He was driving one of our vans and in an instant, he was gone. I was reading the news stories on line and was again shocked by the comments. So many people talked about distracted drivers and tractor trailers. Nothing in this story said either driver was distracted. I was baffled. You can see in the picture of the accident, the side of our van that says, "living better with Community Hospice." The story discussed he was one of our employees. We are a huge hospice, I can imagine we have cared for some of the loved ones who commented such harsh things under that story. This was a life.

Today, I am driving down Blanding to another patients house. I'm in the right hand lane and there on the sidewalk is a man. He is laying flat on his back, bags everywhere around him, and a bike that look wrecked. He is not moving. I pull over to a parking lot as fast as I could. I have to walk a bit to reach him down the side walk. As I walked around my car a store owner came out and yelled, "we've already called 911." I asked if the man had responded to him. The store owner admitted he hadn't actually checked on him. He again stated he called 911 a few minutes ago and they should be here soon. I simply start walking towards the man and the store owner tells me to be careful. Really? He does not appear to be conscious, in broad daylight, in front of a bank, and eight lanes of traffic. I think I should check on him. The owner goes with me and after a series of events too long to type, the paramedics arrive. I give them what little information the now talking, incoherent, drunk man with seizures has given to me and I go on my way. As I walk back up the sidewalk it occurred to me that this store owner had said he called 911 several minutes before I stopped. Eight lanes of traffic for several minutes, I bet hundreds of cars drove by a man obviously hurt on a sidewalk. This is a life.

I'm always a bit on the cynical side. But tonight, I am in awe. When did we get so cold and so shallow? When did we get so busy and scared? When did we stop being so shaken by death. Wait, we didn't. We are only shaken by death when it directly impacts us. Otherwise, we complain about the traffic, assume someone is fine, and keep on rushing through life.

In a way, I'm glad that traffic gets backed up when there is a fatal accident. I think it's the only way some of us will pause. Which is very, very, sad.

We are all just one life.

Question of the day

So here's a scenario. If a person chooses to stay home with her children and raise them then gets cancer she does not qualify for social security disability because she has not worked enough quarters. If that girl's only source of income is now a small amount of alimony because her husband left during all the cancer, she then makes too much for social security income. So the girl now cannot qualify for Medicaid or afford health insurance, meaning she has no way to pay for treatment. Same girl comes to hospice. She is now eligible for Medicaid because she is a hospice patient; however, if she leaves hospice to pursue treatment, she loses the Medicaid. So here's the question: when exactly are we going to actually fix our completely messed up health care system?

Interesting

Many of you know Mamaw. She is my wonderful Grandmother who is among the most faithful of God's children on this earth. She is a prayer warrior who has loved me since forever. She is eighty four and had a bad fall almost two weeks ago. Nothing broken, but at eighty four it takes a while to recover from a good jarring of bones.

I was struck by the irony of bodies young and old tonight while watching Micah. I was giving him a bath and constantly telling him to sit back down. He loves to stand in the tub. When I tell him to sit down, he just plops right back down on his bottom and jumps to do it again. I thought about how he doesn't even seem to notice the impact on his little body. He is young and resiliant and designed to fall these days. When we get older, our bodies just aren't as ready to take a fall. I certainly do not like to think of Mamaw as older. Rationally, I know she is eighty four. In my heart, she's in her sixties.

All week, I have been praying for Mamaw to recover more quickly then she can imagine. I've been praying for her pain to ease and for her to get back home soon. She and Papaw have a sixty fifth wedding anniversary to celebrate on September 1st.

But tonight, in a God ordained moment, I have some extra words of prayer as well. While I was cleaning today, God carefully placed in my hands a card that Mamaw mailed me over three years ago. This is what she wrote:

"Dear Allison, Chris, and Natalie,
May God bless you with Everything that is good and wonderful, with daily strength and everlasting joys. And may He keep you safe and protect you. May He always smile upon you, and may His presence be your daily reward."

Tonight, Mamaw, I'm praying these words for you.
And I'm wondering for those of you reading this, if you'll say these words for Mamaw too?

Mamaw,
I love you so very much! Thanks for being you!

Number One Birthday.

Dear Micah,

What a difference one simple year makes. This time last year all seven pounds and eleven ounces of you laid in my arms swaddled in blue. Now you look like quite the little man running circles around the kitchen chasing your sister, our dogs, and sometimes, nothing at all. You just love to move.

You fooled us at first. You appeared so laid back and relaxed. You took everything in stride. Your Daddy and I used to tell people that we thought Natalie was a good baby, until we had you. You slept through the night almost instantly. You ate well. You just went along wherever we were going with no fussing at all. Then, somewhere around six months, you developed quite the stubborn streak. Today, you are much more stubborn then Natalie, for this reason, I'm really curious about this next year with you.

You don't like anything the first time it is offered. You have finally decided that food is okay. We are still trying to convince you that sippy cups are pretty cool too. You LOVED the cake tonight and had a blast tearing it apart. You have learned to use some sign language. You sign "eat", "more", and "milk". Your favorite is "more" which you sign constantly while eating Cheerios. You can say "bye bye" "da da" "mama" and "cocha" (meaning our dog Mocha, who is your favorite thing ever).

Speaking of favorite things, you follow Natalie EVERYWHERE. When she laughs, you laugh. When she cries, you cry. On several occasions, when she goes to time out, you go and sit beside her in the hall way. It's been fun to watch you two interact and love on each other.

You have spent this first year at work with Daddy. Pastor Logan, Ms. Laura, Uncle Robert, Aunt Joene, and several church people have helped us make this possible. As a result, you are a Daddy's Boy. You preach, waving your arms in the air and jabbering away. You love to dance and others love to watch you. You move your arms up and down and shake your little bottom in perfect time. You dance anytime you hear music and most always, you keep dancing till the music stops. You love to play catch with anyone who will throw the ball back to you. You will run across any room to get a ball. Your most favorite thing is to throw the ball on top of Mocha, maybe soon, you'll teach her to fetch.

You go to sleep every night between 7:30 and 8:00. Most of the time you now sit and read a couple of stories with Natalie. Then Daddy or Mommy sing you Jesus Love Me and lay you down for sleep. Although you are asleep you keep moving and spinning. Even in your dreams you are on the move.

You run hard, play hard, dance hard, snuggle hard, and laugh deeply and hard. My prayer for you is that you always finish tasks with the same persistence and determination you have shown us this first year of your life. I pray you Love God all the time and love others, even when it's hard. I pray you and Natalie always interact and love each other. I pray you grow up to be a man of integrity, easy to give and receive Grace and constantly moving forward in your relationship with the God who gave you to us.

I love you, I love you, I love you, Micah boy!!!

Forever, for always, no matter what...

Happy Birthday!