tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16191966136179431032024-03-05T03:30:38.153-06:00Things I LearnWhat's past is prologue.
-ShakespeareAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-5330790916253037922015-07-15T14:03:00.004-05:002015-07-15T14:03:55.575-05:00New WebsiteHi, everyone!<br />
<br />
My blog has moved! You can now find me at shannonowenblogs.com! My newest post, "Normal-ish" is now up.<br />
<br />
As my life becomes less hectic, I plan to start writing regularly again-- so, please come follow me at my new site!<br />
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Also, I have begun writing for a prayer app called Abide. If you are looking for a way to enhance your prayer life, I think it is a great tool.<br />
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Blessings--<br />
ShannonAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-1280821055619003892015-01-13T21:40:00.001-06:002015-01-16T21:51:58.048-06:00On Miracles<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-size: 13px;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I turn the page to 2015. As we do with clean calendars, I look back at the old one—circled dates gone by, wishes granted or denied.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I am a different person now than I was this day last year. Better? Maybe. I don’t know. Certainly more tired, which has its own human side effects.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But, I know what it means to pray so hard for something that I press my forehead to the carpet and forget fancy words. Sometimes to forget all words altogether and let God read my heart. (Romans 8:26)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I know what it means to hear "no," and then to walk a path strange and hard. Undeniably, I am stronger than I thought I was.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">I know what it means to see "yes" </span><span style="background-color: white;">just when I had bulwarked my heart to face reality. When my sense of wonder is revived by Grace, Hope is real again too.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And now here’s what I know: Miracles are true, though they take a thousand forms. They are shape-shifters, fluid like a shadow— and they always come to point us to eye-blinding Glory. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">God says yes and God says no. And still: there are miracles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">My girl—they call her a miracle. And honestly, I don’t always know how to react to that statement. I mean, there has been no whiz-bang, medically-confounding moment. She is simply thriving. And for that, we are humbled</span><span style="background-color: white;">. We are thankful.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At the beginning, we weren’t sure what her genetics looked like. Now we know they are as normal as mine and Lee’s. (Which, I guess, is a debatable statement depending on how “normal” you consider either of us.)</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjrgveeRsQ8E9oiz44hbO1717jrg4-fFFdppOEoHa5LMLwd64ECI2qWgHLzo1iJHV6MPhj8rcIGyfvVrhcQpXNtr6Z2o7EpmajGx84IQzv_Yn_y8j4esxlviPJ1Lz7D4Yk9sFcZmx6p5U/s1600/DSC_0146.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAjrgveeRsQ8E9oiz44hbO1717jrg4-fFFdppOEoHa5LMLwd64ECI2qWgHLzo1iJHV6MPhj8rcIGyfvVrhcQpXNtr6Z2o7EpmajGx84IQzv_Yn_y8j4esxlviPJ1Lz7D4Yk9sFcZmx6p5U/s1600/DSC_0146.jpg" height="320" width="214" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Taken by our friend, Elizabeth Walters.</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">At the beginning, we weren’t sure what would happen with her ability to breathe independently. Now, she is wearing her Passy Muir valve all the time, and we are sometimes capping the trach with the hope of removing the trach later this year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At the beginning, she needed a feeding tube placed because she was aspirating. Now, she is stronger and has outgrown some of her initial issues, so she isn’t aspirating any longer. With the help of an awesome speech therapist and lots of work at home, she has overcome her oral aversion and has just recently decided that she likes food! We have a long way to go, but she is enjoying throwing puffs on the floor, smearing puree all over her high chair and generally making disgusting messes. (And all the people said: Amen!)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">At the beginning, we weren’t sure what her physical mobility would look like, but she has made GREAT progress. Thanks to some wonderful PTs and OTs who have helped with splinting, stretching, and teaching me exercises, she is getting stronger and is an active, wiggly, curious 11-month old. Also, we have been doing serial casting with orthopedics since the end of October. It has slowly moved the bone alignment in her feet, and we will have surgery tomorrow (Wednesday). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Beyond all of this, Kate is sweet and smart. She already has a sense of humor and a flair for the dramatic. And, she is tougher than any sweet, cuddly baby has a right to be. Beyond anything medical, she is a miracle simply because she is herself. And we are blessed,</span><span style="background-color: white;"> thankful to have her in our family.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Which brings me to my next point.</span></div>
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<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0); font-family: inherit; font-size: x-small;">We call it a miracle when odd things happen, but what about when things go according to plan? When babies are formed exactly as we expect, and still they come special—fierce compassion, wild curly hair, and an inexplicable love for dogs?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here, too, is a miracle: my other girl who came tiny and strong, for whom I worry the regular things. She, too, has felt your prayers, even though she may not see it. She takes trach care and g-button feedings and casts as simply part of what we do. In her own way, she understands that this is not what is typical for babies, but also understands that different is not bad. It is simply different. She is curious, not scared. She loves her sister the way I love my sisters, and you can't really ask for more than that.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">Today, I marvel in this: the typical and the unique. All is miracle and</span><span style="background-color: white;"> nothing, no one is accident.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A thousand blessings, a million miracles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And sometimes, we do this: we write “Praise the Lord” only next to prayer requests that have been answered in our favor. But, what about when God says no?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My mom tells me to find the silver lining. And I think this is something more than forcing a glass-half-full perspective. In reality, it goes something like this: grieve the no, find the purpose, give thanks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In his letter to the Thessalonians, Paul says it like this: "Rejoice always; pray without ceasing; give thanks in all circumstances."</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">We toss this verse around as a nice thing to say when we don't know what to say, but I believe it. I grip these words tight. Make no mistake: this year has been hard, exhausting, draining even as it has been good and beautiful. If you've followed our story, you know that we have heard both yes and no to various prayers. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">To rejoice always is not a light task; however, I think that's why Paul follows it with "pray without ceasing." We pray to ask for things, but then we pray as we wait, we pray to ask why, we pray to ask mercy, we pray to gather courage, we pray to say thanks. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And it's the praying that keeps me grounded, that turns me toward my God, who gives purpose to everything. Then, I rejoice. Everything under the sun has purpose! My story can affect someone else who will change the life of someone else, and so on for all time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">In Ann Voskamp’s <u>1000 Gifts</u>, she wrote, “Eucharisteo—thanksgiving—<wbr></wbr>always precedes the miracle.”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">When I read this, my heart beat, “Yes.” </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But, thanksgiving isn’t a prescription or a magical incantation to recite when we want God to do our bidding like a genie slave trapped in a bottle.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The miracle IS thanksgiving. A heart free of bitterness, a heart content in all things. The secret to peace revealed.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">And so—I give thanks in the normal, thanks in the fantastic. Our God is good. All the time.</span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-69747683572819409282014-08-18T09:39:00.000-05:002014-08-18T12:20:28.749-05:00Wait.<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">Spending any
length of time at the hospital is draining. Here’s the thing, though—most of
the time, it’s not especially emotional. Moments come, of course, where you
feel a swirling dizziness as your life changes before your very eyes. But, most
of the time, we tap our fingers and thumb through books we aren’t reading and
joke with our nurses and wait.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">And it’s the
waiting that drains.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">It’s the
waiting that pulls out the obsessive in me-- and I madly scour old college
textbooks and online medical journals and Google for information that might
predict the future like a crystal ball.</span><br />
</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif";">For six weeks,
I had August 14 circled on our family calendar. (Full disclosure: I’ve had the
calendar turned to August since July 25.) For six weeks, I waited to see what
the doctor would say when he looked down her airway, and I hoped that her
airway might be clear so he could take out her trach.</span></div>
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsU9sHmp28j0w17ANNM5nbR6qAxNli6LhxdC7DJIahG6nXO8GqUj2E-110I7dmKWFaoOEa1h8LgqrO9m9ukbu3Is28WpEiHw1GFmYFST3YyAIh3teAeO3HfGN3w-lo6B4mFAKPpDYZndTP/s1600/Daddy+and+Kate.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsU9sHmp28j0w17ANNM5nbR6qAxNli6LhxdC7DJIahG6nXO8GqUj2E-110I7dmKWFaoOEa1h8LgqrO9m9ukbu3Is28WpEiHw1GFmYFST3YyAIh3teAeO3HfGN3w-lo6B4mFAKPpDYZndTP/s1600/Daddy+and+Kate.JPG" height="320" width="220" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Waiting for the nurse to take vitals</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Of everything, the
trach is the thing that has drastically changed our lives. Suffice it to say—
the words sacrifice and patience have new depth for Lee and me. The biggest
problem with her airway seems to have resolved, but we weren’t sure if there
was anything else that might make it hard for her to breathe without the trach.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Once we knew
decannulation was a real possibility, we waited expectantly, anxiously,
cautiously. (Full disclosure: I waited anxiously; Lee waited cautiously. He is
made of sterner stuff than I.)</span></div>
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<br />
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, we went in Thursday
morning and waited to hand our baby to the doctors who would put her under
anesthesia and look in her trachea. We waited again, and finally heard that the
subglottic region of her trachea looked great and they could put in a smaller
trach with the hope of capping it and seeing how well she could breathe around
it. I thought, “Hooray! The biggest hurdle to her decannulation is cleared. She
should pass the rest of her time here easily and come home without the trach!”</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, we waited for the
doctor to come in and cap the trach. She didn’t tolerate that very well because
even the smallest trach takes up a large percentage of her airway. So, the
doctor decided he would come the next day and try to take out the trach
altogether and see what she could do. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Lee spent the night
in an extraordinarily uncomfortable chair, and Friday morning the doctor came
in again. He tried pulling out the trach, but Kate simply is not ready to
breathe without it yet.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, we came home
Friday with the trach still in place and instructions to wait until she gets
bigger. (And until RSV/ flu season is over—As Lee put it, decannulation is not
a winter sport.) So, we will try again in March. </span></div>
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oSzDQr0LGUf6jHthilN0HeAaAGStiRElSUW_i8lMaqWaZuFkd2dcYXp0dAfuSUQL21uvhAmE_B25xqmZN4MNCUjocfAXbuojpGVEVuPy7Xm1HIbwlBzJ90GcDBhIyp-DgtN7hH_bOq8p/s1600/Passy+Muir.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5oSzDQr0LGUf6jHthilN0HeAaAGStiRElSUW_i8lMaqWaZuFkd2dcYXp0dAfuSUQL21uvhAmE_B25xqmZN4MNCUjocfAXbuojpGVEVuPy7Xm1HIbwlBzJ90GcDBhIyp-DgtN7hH_bOq8p/s1600/Passy+Muir.JPG" height="200" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Passy Muir Valve</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In the meantime, we
got a pretty great consolation prize: a Passy-Muir valve! This is a speaking
valve that helps her not only make noise but also practice breathing around the
trach. Because it is a one-way valve, it is sometimes used as a half-way step
between depending on the trach and breathing independently. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And so-- for the first
time since she was 12 days old, we heard her. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">With the help of her
Passy-Muir valve, Kate cried and cooed while Lee and I looked at the other in
happy shock. Because we spent six months learning her breathing patterns and
silent facial expressions, her little voice sounded strange and miraculous all
at once. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I often misunderstand
when God says wait. Usually, it feels more like no. And though wise,
well-meaning people tell me that God’s timing is perfect, sometimes it is hard
to believe them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When I am just
sitting on time, it is hard to see how the wait is good. I am impatient.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Now, however, I have
a tangible reminder each time she makes noise that waiting is not always a
waste of time. It is in the waiting that I grip tightly onto prayer and learn
that my God is sovereign.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And my view of prayer
is shaped by my view of God—as I wait, His throne comes clearer into focus
because I have no choice but to trust.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I know that prayer is
no talisman; its answer no barometer of my “goodness.” I cannot barter with the
God of the Universe to ensure my version of a happy ending. As I deal in turn
with disappointment and delight, I can rest in the truth that whatever comes
will be for the greatest good. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I have seen God as
sovereign King, but He does not sit powerful and aloof. He is Father. The kind
that looks and listens. And even though I sometimes feel mad or ungrateful, I
know He will take me as I am and change me. So as I wait, I talk to Him. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I enter the throne
room with nothing to give.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">My King—He says,
“Come anyway.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">He uses the words He
spoke long ago to the prophet Jeremiah: “I know the plans I have for you. Call
to me. Come and pray to me, and I will listen to you.” </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Garamond","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And though I am no
prophet, I know that those words are for me. Glory becomes Grace as I come
before the One who needs nothing—and in the waiting I am refined.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-15457207421436491072014-07-05T19:37:00.001-05:002014-07-05T20:03:42.644-05:00Update from Kate the Great<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrFu-0TyFmh2QzKTycPi-NbCsQkMflnONGOd4odAa6ebuD8CGxNhxIoWJwJ0OKgPlnq-93svcemBiBJjd-qOX6Ut9NkV8Ad9sh1NsAFM8WK0UrZhFkZbg_mdD0o1CLC2qH8XB3RULrhfQ/s1600/kate+on+green+chair.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrFu-0TyFmh2QzKTycPi-NbCsQkMflnONGOd4odAa6ebuD8CGxNhxIoWJwJ0OKgPlnq-93svcemBiBJjd-qOX6Ut9NkV8Ad9sh1NsAFM8WK0UrZhFkZbg_mdD0o1CLC2qH8XB3RULrhfQ/s1600/kate+on+green+chair.JPG" height="320" width="248" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Hi, everyone!</span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">My mommy apologizes for leaving all of you
in a state of suspense regarding my status. She has been pretty busy taking me
to appointments/ therapy, hanging out with Avery, learning how to be a
combination nurse/ respiratory therapist, teaching a Bible study, google
searching medical journals, managing my home health nurses, thinking seriously
about cleaning our house, learning how to be dairy-free (more on this later)
and sitting down every once in a while to watch 24 with Daddy. (Really, she
reads while Daddy watches, but whatever. They're both happy.) Anyways, I guess
we'll cut her (some) slack for not blogging lately.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So, I've been making lots of progress
lately! I'm getting much stronger and hitting some big physical milestones-- I
can hold up my head, roll from side to side, kick stuff, reach for stuff, and
pull on fun things like earrings and hair. I still have to wear my splints, but
I get lots of breaks during the day so I can move around. As one of my speech
therapists said, I am no delicate flower. I am very strong. Sort of like
Katniss or Wonder Woman (sans hotpants, plus diaper).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I particularly enjoy watching Big People.
My mom is a favorite because she's so pretty and wonderful. My dad is always
great to watch because he's basically like MacGyver. Also, I love watching
Little Big People like Avery-- she's always doing something fantastic like
disciplining her baby dolls or making castles out of couch cushions. If I like
you, I'll give you a wide, gummy grin. If I don't like you, well... you'll
know. Also, I've recently discovered that Peek-a-boo is both confounding and
hilarious. (Seriously-- where do you go during those few seconds?? I hear your
voice, but you just vanish a la David Copperfield.) <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I've found that the best way to fluster my
parents and nurses is to spit up. Typically, it works best if I time it
immediately before we go somewhere or right after bath and trach care. But, it
seems that the Big People are catching on to my plan. My mom has even started a
dairy-free diet to see if that keeps the milk down. She seems to miss cheese,
but Aunt Jessica has given her some dairy-free tips that help her stay on track
and keep my food milk-protein-free. I guess I'll have to work on a new plan if
this diet thing actually works.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Oh-- by the way-- my vocal cords are
working. My parents took me to a new ENT a couple weeks ago; he stuck this
camera down my nose (bad) and said he saw some movement in my vocal cords (good).
I could've told everyone this before, but this dang trach keeps me from being
able to say anything. (Contrary to popular belief, my vocal cord paralysis is
not what keeps me from making noise. It's the trach, which sits lower than my
vocal cords. The bilateral vocal cord paralysis kept me from being able to
breathe, which is generally considered important. Hence, the trach.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">So, since we saw some movement, we are
working toward attempting decannulation. (A fancy word for "get this thing
out of my neck so I can breathe through my nose and mouth.") Again, in the
medical world, breathing is mostly thought to be a priority, so decannulation
will not happen quickly. Everyone wants to make sure my lungs are safe before
taking out the trach, and I appreciate this gesture. The ENT wanted us to do a
few things before we go back to see him. Here's the list of steps we have to
take:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
</div>
<ol>
<li><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Increase my reflux meds. </span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Result: I
guess this works, if I don't spit it up. Haha!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Complete a Swallow study to check for aspiration.
Result: Unknown. They put me on this table with this giant x-ray machine above
me and put my mom in the corner so I couldn't see her and then all these
strange Big People were in my space. Then, they expected me to actually swallow
something that tasted like sugary chalk. I don't really like stuff in my mouth
anyways, so forget that! I didn't aspirate, but I only swallowed approximately
one drop. Shows them not to do terrible things to me!!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">See a pulmonologist. Result: Great! He
and my mom and nurse had a great chat, and my lungs look fabulous. Mommy and
Daddy feel hopeful after that appointment!</span></li>
<li><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Check in again with ENT. Result: TBD.
We go on Wednesday!</span></li>
</ol>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">For obvious reasons, we are hoping that I
don't have to have this trach for very much longer. We will see! I've surprised
everyone before, and I hope to do it again soon. It is really the best policy to
keep all Big People on their toes at all times. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Love, Kate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-61044545557637752392014-05-24T10:50:00.001-05:002014-05-24T10:50:33.472-05:00Patience<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This isn’t how the story is supposed
to go. We closed a chapter, remember? The characters aren’t supposed to walk
back through chapter 1 when they are acting chapter 2.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But, Kate is back in the hospital. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">On Tuesday, they stuck leads back on
her chest and plugged her in to the monitors. They stuck an IV in the same spot
above her left ear where she used to have her PICC line. They stuck her with
needles and swabbed her nose. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We walked into the same hallways
that we walked out of six weeks ago. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And it is all sickeningly familiar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A long story short: Kate got sick,
so we are back in the hospital for a few days. Because of the trach, any
illness Kate contracts is immediately a big deal because it compromises her
airway. Imagine having a really stuffy nose but having duct tape over your
mouth—that is basically how it feels for Kate to breathe when she is sick. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM4ydg5piMVfXwEi-m0fIMuLSg_wyrOeUCv1n-LiRHwgyyaObMsFX1TxEuXqPvrbx_tAkje2KjR3MpemhEfvTQrCzymeDNcQcVHgpVfg6g1AnJWZdMjWIIc_AmUnmA6VJqTmSlRERkYfcJ/s1600/Kate+hospital.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM4ydg5piMVfXwEi-m0fIMuLSg_wyrOeUCv1n-LiRHwgyyaObMsFX1TxEuXqPvrbx_tAkje2KjR3MpemhEfvTQrCzymeDNcQcVHgpVfg6g1AnJWZdMjWIIc_AmUnmA6VJqTmSlRERkYfcJ/s1600/Kate+hospital.JPG" height="320" width="243" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Thankfully, she seems to be doing
much better now than she was doing Monday or Tuesday. Her fever has broken, and
her secretions are slowly becoming more manageable. As soon as the doctors can
identify exactly what she has and give us the right medicine, Kate will be
discharged. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kate is in the safest place right
now. She should come home very soon, and she will keep on thriving. But, that
doesn’t make it any easier to come home to an empty crib. Or to wake up in the
morning with the dull ache that reminds me things are out of order. Again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I’m not sure what I expected after
coming home from our NICU stay. I knew it would be hard, I knew that we could
land back in the hospital—that, in fact, it was inevitable because of the
trach. But I didn’t know that the proverbial bumps along the road would send me
sprawling across the pavement. That the smell of Purell in a hospital room
would bring back so sharply the sting of helplessness.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And so, like David writes over again
in his Psalms, I ask, How long? How long, O Lord? How long does she have to
suffer? How long is she going to need this trach?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But I see my own impatience. I want
to hurry to the end of the story and be done with pain. Be done watching my
baby hurt.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But what if it is pain that changes
us? That slowly carves us down to whom we are meant to be? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">They say patience is a virtue. And
so it is. The apostle Paul calls patience a <a href="https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Galatians+5%3A22-23&version=NIV">fruit of the Spirit</a>. And here’s
what I think that means: patience is not something I can grow myself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I can talk patience, I can think
patience…try as I might, I cannot engineer patience. It is only when I must live
patience that I can harvest that fruit. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, we wait. We wait for results, for
a treatment plan. We wait for Kate to come home again. And then we will wait
some more. For the story to play out, for that day when we can look back and
say, “Remember when?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And we will remember that this was
hard. But we will remember that He grew us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-70353591914370197042014-05-03T14:36:00.000-05:002014-05-03T15:08:42.207-05:00Remember<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddtv1QStn2zAHcZ5CPcvAa0KTGG9rpD3m-Ov-RI2yBMtxS1MZtUfxsHT-RE5fvnoTgGnnQR_GUtqDiGW6XQaZmnuAuesD4c7sBL72prSka26PYLnVvpb_mCn2cLihVX_oPdoXksrDkckR/s1600/kate+and+mommy+reading.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjddtv1QStn2zAHcZ5CPcvAa0KTGG9rpD3m-Ov-RI2yBMtxS1MZtUfxsHT-RE5fvnoTgGnnQR_GUtqDiGW6XQaZmnuAuesD4c7sBL72prSka26PYLnVvpb_mCn2cLihVX_oPdoXksrDkckR/s1600/kate+and+mommy+reading.jpeg" height="200" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">
Stories begin and stories end. After the resolving of a single conflict,
fairytales leave the reader with the ever-elusive “happily ever after.” But
what the fairytales won’t tell you is that “happily ever after” is its own sort
of beginning.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">For two months, we lived quite a
story. Every day was packed full of anxieties and hopes, challenges and
celebrations. Every day brought us closer to our end: home.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Shakespeare wrote, “What’s past is
prologue.” And I believe him. With Kate’s ambulance ride home on March 31, a
chapter closed. But it was only the first chapter. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And now, we are here. We are home.
So, life begins and we step forward into the next blank page. But, before we
step squarely into the next plot point, we must transition.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Transition phases in life are much
like writing transition sentences. They are hardly ever interesting and, in my
opinion, they are the hardest pieces to write. However, they are necessary. One
cannot move fluidly through a story without a transition. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBsBlkOOHStTkMVoyU_rnX0aM638mckOtio9asOlhpzdE9Ns3AY0_unpnvd-G72WdvX8jvVrLmaMA7dZZb8KMpayL5IDrrIGEN539hxfneOVIlyJ836uihZ7AzlghJZw4ObLNcqbXUtK3L/s1600/kate-ambulance.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBsBlkOOHStTkMVoyU_rnX0aM638mckOtio9asOlhpzdE9Ns3AY0_unpnvd-G72WdvX8jvVrLmaMA7dZZb8KMpayL5IDrrIGEN539hxfneOVIlyJ836uihZ7AzlghJZw4ObLNcqbXUtK3L/s1600/kate-ambulance.jpeg" height="180" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Nothing particularly
earth-shattering has happened in the past month. We have simply been
experiencing the growing pains of this transition phase—and “new normal” is
slowly becoming, well, normal. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt; mso-margin-bottom-alt: auto; mso-margin-top-alt: auto;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Kate has been doing really well at
home. She is on track with all her social and cognitive milestones—every
visitor seems to remark on her alertness and expressiveness. She smiles a lot,
and is even starting to roll to her side! Doctor follow-ups have been going
well and, with surgery and plenty of therapy, we can do a lot for her in the
future. We are still working on an overarching diagnosis, but won’t have any
answers for a while, if ever.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFalnWK1GhvjaiBAw3f3W6UXTHjTBonn3nt7Vp721YSY33k2ym9x9nk9OUI1i-S1T9uq8eKBsyFrKNMuSRUjPjrhog4lWILlhLpS76ISrYDVijrMh2bvjHIEcyRfYupXeYPBisUAurLj3R/s1600/kate+and+avery+easter.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFalnWK1GhvjaiBAw3f3W6UXTHjTBonn3nt7Vp721YSY33k2ym9x9nk9OUI1i-S1T9uq8eKBsyFrKNMuSRUjPjrhog4lWILlhLpS76ISrYDVijrMh2bvjHIEcyRfYupXeYPBisUAurLj3R/s1600/kate+and+avery+easter.jpeg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Avery is adjusting in typical
3-year-old fashion to having a new baby at home. She adores Kate, and loves to
“pet her baby.” Kate, in turn, adores Avery and flashes a big, gummy smile
whenever her sister comes to give kisses. Kate’s “special necklace” and “other
belly button” are a non-issue for Avery. (Except, perhaps, when she tries to
help suction the trach or hook up the feeding tube… lots of discussions about
what big girls can do and what grown-ups can do…) However, having much less
attention is pretty tough for her. Despite the fact that we have found some
wonderful nurses who help take care of Kate and who are very sweet to Avery,
life at home is different. It is difficult for a 3-year-old to comprehend all
this change.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Lee and I are also adjusting. Things
like trach care and g-button feeds are becoming as normal as changing diapers.
(This is a real miracle for me—all things medicine are not in my natural
wheelhouse.) I am slowly getting used to having nurses help me take care of my baby
for 16 hours a day. (I hate asking for help. Like, really hate it. It’s a
first-child, control-freak thing.) God has answered our prayer and we quickly
found some nurses who are pure gold. But, I am certainly being stretched. It is
hard having a constant audience—not only during my pre-coffee, pre-brushed
teeth morning, but also when my house is a general disaster and during
aforementioned toddler tantrums. (You know that feeling when your screaming kid
throws herself on the ground at HEB because you wouldn’t let her pet the
lobsters? Well, it’s like that—except at home. And without the lobsters.) </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, this transition has been a
strange paradox of good and hard. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And, in the midst of exhaustion, the
dark whisper comes: <em>You cannot do this. You are not strong.</em> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And it is easy—too easy—to slip
under the fog of discouragement. To believe the lies that come to immobilize
me.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But then—a word, a light: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Remember</i>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This is not the pithy charge to
“count your blessings” or “see the glass half-full.” Advice like that tastes
bitter when the days are long. No, to remember is a richer task. When life
seems static, I look back at the story already written. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjph8_XhJvmZ09oIRUSFhhyk1ssX1ppwIzxhAY6GY3jpRb3G7xLWuVj4TFZcbLx3PNuitThFUBBmx8OHnGMmetV6F7ym6KQlmzmWOukTlrCZ0n7Lbq4my1RQ7OUrJbtSAs-7aT_ylV4MIis/s1600/kate-+crib2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjph8_XhJvmZ09oIRUSFhhyk1ssX1ppwIzxhAY6GY3jpRb3G7xLWuVj4TFZcbLx3PNuitThFUBBmx8OHnGMmetV6F7ym6KQlmzmWOukTlrCZ0n7Lbq4my1RQ7OUrJbtSAs-7aT_ylV4MIis/s1600/kate-+crib2.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As a character and limited narrator
in this story, I sometimes have short sight. I’m thinking about the next day,
the next page. But you, reader, probably see something clearer than I see it
myself: God is working miracles.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">That’s why I think God asks us to
remember. We get caught in the current of our immediate circumstances and
forget that He parted the waters. We forget the big story.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">There’s a second time in the Old
Testament that God parts the waters. Of course, we all know about Moses—there’s
that famous image of Charlton Heston dramatically lifting his staff in front of
fake storm clouds… so, we know that story. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But, it happens again with <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=joshua+4&version=HCSB">Joshua and the Jordan river</a> as Israel crosses into the Promised Land. And God tells
them to pile 12 stones in order to remember. Here’s why:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDo_FtCsGBjQJEAgQZoOtBgP7JpAfsuSnSKmLkTxe0ND9F_p4Tm7sCiisxaaXFjGolLdJy2VJ7ihRwoy0YUxDY_tk7J8CFLG_0cDT0z1ZSgVbeUFVtg1B-TkneVFoBDA5_Dpth7FBnaX3/s1600/kate+and+avery,+window.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDo_FtCsGBjQJEAgQZoOtBgP7JpAfsuSnSKmLkTxe0ND9F_p4Tm7sCiisxaaXFjGolLdJy2VJ7ihRwoy0YUxDY_tk7J8CFLG_0cDT0z1ZSgVbeUFVtg1B-TkneVFoBDA5_Dpth7FBnaX3/s1600/kate+and+avery,+window.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQDo_FtCsGBjQJEAgQZoOtBgP7JpAfsuSnSKmLkTxe0ND9F_p4Tm7sCiisxaaXFjGolLdJy2VJ7ihRwoy0YUxDY_tk7J8CFLG_0cDT0z1ZSgVbeUFVtg1B-TkneVFoBDA5_Dpth7FBnaX3/s1600/kate+and+avery,+window.jpeg" height="320" width="320" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><span class="text">[Joshua] said to
the Israelites, “In the future, when your children ask their fathers, “What is
the meaning of these stones?” <span id="en-HCSB-5933">you should tell your
children, “Israel crossed the Jordan on dry ground.”<span style="font-size: small;"><sup> </sup>For the </span></span></span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="text"> your God dried up the waters of the
Jordan before you until you had crossed over, just as the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="text"> your God did to the Red Sea, which He
dried up before us until we had crossed over. This is so that all the people of the earth may
know that the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="text">’s hand is mighty, and so that you may always fear
the </span><span class="small-caps"><span style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span></span><span class="text"> your God.” (Joshua 4:21-24)</span></em></span><br />
<em></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When we pass along the stories, we remember
the miracles. When we step out of the role of character and into the role of
narrator, we can see more clearly the careful weaving of a truly great tale. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">So, we pile the stones. We mark the
miracles in such a way that people ask, “What is the meaning?” And because they
ask, we can answer with a story of a faithful, mighty God. Sometimes, the story
is for them… but sometimes, it is for us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">As I tell people where Kate has
come, I remember that my Father God is for me. And then I remember that my
great, cosmic God sees me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">And that is a humbling, lovely
thing. </span></div>
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-57836574093758003992014-03-26T10:33:00.001-05:002014-03-27T17:58:04.721-05:00Out of the Wilderness<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKLNMBL0F1tziP8z6TrYCa2oo15acXSh6YlSWvfJMnYVF_eKKnQFDh-FaHW70jkQY585HEvlfogTlF9gs0wFFNHAUgo8HQxoKg-vyWu2cwKhbfAkWLXM6KzDE8eLkdu13mY8o24ypvUZo/s1600/IMG_1641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaKLNMBL0F1tziP8z6TrYCa2oo15acXSh6YlSWvfJMnYVF_eKKnQFDh-FaHW70jkQY585HEvlfogTlF9gs0wFFNHAUgo8HQxoKg-vyWu2cwKhbfAkWLXM6KzDE8eLkdu13mY8o24ypvUZo/s1600/IMG_1641.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">In Shakespeare, the characters are often cast out of civilization into some type of wilderness. In the wilderness, they work out a problem; in the end, they emerge changed in some way. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In Scripture, it is much the same. Moses with the burning bush. Israel in the wilderness for 40 years. Jonah and the whale. Jesus in the wilderness for 40 days.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">In life, it is much the same. A single moment hits us in the gut with the force of a hurricane and we are flung into the wilderness. When the world stops spinning and we find ourselves there among the brush, we wander in search of some unknown destination called "normal."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">But, as Gandalf tells Frodo, "Not all those who wander are lost." The wilderness is always for some purpose greater than simple comfort.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Last Tuesday, we passed the 40-day mark in the NICU. Let me be clear: our proverbial wilderness is not made rough because of our Kate. We firmly believe that she was made exactly the way God intended for something really special. These 40+ days have been hard because of the uncertainty in waiting for various test results, the helplessness in watching our baby feel pain, the longing to have our Kate home.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">On day 1, we were told Kate may have a condition that is medically termed "incompatible with life." Today, day 47, we know that is not the case.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">While we still do not have a diagnosis, we've learned that Kate has some type of muscular disorder that affects her vocal cords, arms and legs. Because of her vocal cord paralysis, she has a hard time breathing and will come home with a trach. Because of her trach and overall muscular disorder, she has a hard time swallowing safely and will come home with a g-button. Because of the contractures in her extremities, she will come home with splints and endure quite a lot of physical and occupational therapy.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, in this wilderness we have crawled from the canyon and walked a rocky path. But as we emerge from our wilderness, we see that the path called "new normal" stretches far.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0nZXV7iNRaQDXhAzgjTqNnzaO_LbBlPrEPPHYbAdNDFAVFfZ2hEqiieCHrT5le6VEU1Gul9aHMMUfeWvMIqqF6emxxz8dOwJtc7JML_WYHD6YfmivGwe0VirSE6cKHZeqiSld4NdhKmT/s1600/deut+8.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE0nZXV7iNRaQDXhAzgjTqNnzaO_LbBlPrEPPHYbAdNDFAVFfZ2hEqiieCHrT5le6VEU1Gul9aHMMUfeWvMIqqF6emxxz8dOwJtc7JML_WYHD6YfmivGwe0VirSE6cKHZeqiSld4NdhKmT/s1600/deut+8.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">In Deuteronomy 8, Moses tells Israel, "Remember that <b>the LORD your God led you</b> on the entire journey these 40 years in the wilderness, <i>so that He might humble you and test you to know what was in your heart</i>, whether or not you would keep His commands."</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">I think there is something both weakening and empowering in walking the wilderness. In the wilderness, there is no shelter for our weakness. The LORD tests our mettle, and we are exposed-- the wilderness may burn, but it also refines. Where we are weak, the God of the Universe infuses us with strength that we do not naturally have; and as we realize that we are not strong enough by ourselves, we understand with a new sense of wonder that our God is powerful. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">And in wonder there is beauty.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br />
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Here's the exciting news: we get to take our Kate home SOON. Kate's g-button surgery last Wednesday went really well, and the discharge planner at the hospital came to talk last Friday! It looks like we will probably be home at the beginning of next week. </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXVPnVS336S4lsNuCe-aynPbKD9DW1bIXPL6Wltl4NdL6GKlf9AKfO1h7o7y7-nyN5a6HJprGR3qG_U2aHXh7j9vDX8GTbKWPTxn2gbDyLa6bYwAAcarrF2qbab_wsXoAEF9CKbClXVIt/s1600/Kate+3-24.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRXVPnVS336S4lsNuCe-aynPbKD9DW1bIXPL6Wltl4NdL6GKlf9AKfO1h7o7y7-nyN5a6HJprGR3qG_U2aHXh7j9vDX8GTbKWPTxn2gbDyLa6bYwAAcarrF2qbab_wsXoAEF9CKbClXVIt/s1600/Kate+3-24.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a><span style="font-family: inherit;">So friends, celebrate with us as we take these last few steps out of the wilderness. Pray for us as we take our girl home and settle in to our "new normal." </span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Prayer requests:</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-Pray for Avery as she transitions into her new big sister role. I'm pretty sure she thinks Baby Kate is about as real as Doc McStuffins... So, next week is going to be interesting for her.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-Pray for our future home health nurses. Pray that we quickly find one or two that are just right for Kate and for our family.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-Pray for Kate's transition home. She has no idea what home is, so pray that she settles in comfortably and quickly.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-Pray for Lee and me to wisely manage both of our girls.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-Pray for peace and confidence as we care for Kate, especially at night-- Because of Kate's trach, she does not make noise when she cries. So, pray that we confidently learn her "upset" cues.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;">-Continue to pray big prayers for Kate's progress and her strength (physical, emotional, and spiritual) as she grows.</span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-1136819256594239182014-03-14T11:55:00.002-05:002014-03-14T11:55:40.762-05:00When God Says No
My brother-in-law asked me a good question last
week. He asked, “What are you afraid of if God says no?”<br />
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
My honest answer? I am afraid it will be hard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilAhfhZ6V1EdR4jTPuS4vrFbDkA-IWVTjXaVEPPtt0uAnCih2VNPdlt5Ddbk97qJy3SS63BKVdifLEwLf9s3p-mC3HB2zsjdd799x6fKeH3UnfLR7FErjaEePH8qO_xUCeUIfC8w6fz3Ua/s1600/Kate+full+body.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilAhfhZ6V1EdR4jTPuS4vrFbDkA-IWVTjXaVEPPtt0uAnCih2VNPdlt5Ddbk97qJy3SS63BKVdifLEwLf9s3p-mC3HB2zsjdd799x6fKeH3UnfLR7FErjaEePH8qO_xUCeUIfC8w6fz3Ua/s1600/Kate+full+body.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>The past week has been a flurry of celebrations
and disappointments. In short, we found a spot on her heart that, after running
numerous tests, the doctors believe is a clot. Thankfully, we have ruled out
some very dangerous possibilities regarding the spot, and we are moving forward
in a positive direction. Also, they thought she might have caught a virus, so
Kate was moved to isolation for a few days. Thankfully, she is doing fine,
though we are grateful that our doctors are being so careful with our precious
girl. Lastly, Kate is going to get a g-tube, probably sometime next week. She
was moving forward slowly with her sucking coordination, but they did a swallow
study (she swallowed contrast and radiology watched to see if the liquid went
into her lungs or her tummy) and found that she was aspirating (some of the
liquid went into her lungs). So, bottle feeds are off for now. In the meantime,
we will practice non-nutritive sucking and do another swallow study when she is
a little older. But, as soon as she recovers from g-tube surgery, we can take
her home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
That word. That word eclipses everything.
Everything I didn’t want. Everything I prayed against. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
In the midst of last week’s sandstorm, a former
student of mine sent me 1 Corinthians 16:13. It reads, “Be on your guard; stand
firm in the faith; be courageous; be strong.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
And while I screamed “NO” to the things I didn’t
like, my God gently reminded me of a lesson He taught me weeks ago: “Be strong
and courageous for I am with you.” </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
Here is the miracle: my heart has changed. I’m
starting to realize that this story isn’t about me. I am not the author; I am
not even the main character. From my pen flows the story of our Kate, but these
are not my words and I am not in control of the plot. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNkDOSQSrWXUbc4wzCWy0sY8cO5kkSwTHsPPzdwM0meEg7nJ8d46uAWqFnB3fjzDKc3HikOpjt0nPcW51AjHX1b-l2rOlN1xF3K_3gb9hU5Z0Ps8VBMU_Hk-yRiV8tAlrXjLwO2NrB7Gh0/s1600/Kate+and+Mommy+with+mask.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNkDOSQSrWXUbc4wzCWy0sY8cO5kkSwTHsPPzdwM0meEg7nJ8d46uAWqFnB3fjzDKc3HikOpjt0nPcW51AjHX1b-l2rOlN1xF3K_3gb9hU5Z0Ps8VBMU_Hk-yRiV8tAlrXjLwO2NrB7Gh0/s1600/Kate+and+Mommy+with+mask.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a>My sovereign God writes the story, and He imbibes
me with a strength that I do not have by myself. I thought I would break if
Kate had to get a g-tube; instead, my heart grew strong. I believe this is
the first of many things that Kate will simply do on her own time and in
her own way. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
There is no doubt: the path we walk is much
steeper than it was 5 weeks ago. And I am certain that at various points ahead
we will have to dig in and scale the mountainside. But the view from where we
stand is not sad. It is indescribably lovely. </div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 1em 0px;">
You see: we get to take our Kate home soon. It may
not be what we originally envisioned, but when is it ever what we originally
envision? As this short chapter of her story comes to a close, I look back upon
answered prayers: she is here, and she will come home.</div>
<br />
Prayer requests:<br />
-Pray that Kate's g-tube surgery would go well next week and that she would have a quick, easy recovery.<br />
-Praise that Kate has made some great strides in regards to her mobility-- thanks to PT/OT, her knees are almost totally stretched out, and her ankles and hands have made great progress. We still have a long way to go, but we are seeing big improvements! Keep praying big prayers for Kate's future mobility.<br />
-Keep praying big prayers for Kate's vocal cord paralysis. Pray that we would find just the right ENT for the future.<br />
-Keep praying big prayers for Kate's ability to eat safely. Obviously, we have had a huge setback, but there is hope for the future.<br />
-Pray for God to prepare Avery for Kate's coming home. Pray that she would understand how to be gentle with her baby sister and the amount of care that Kate will require.<br />
-Pray for Lee and me as we finish up these last few weeks at the hospital. Pray for endurance and pray against discouragement. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-61601884679669694992014-03-05T11:42:00.000-06:002014-03-06T08:23:15.734-06:00Pray Daringly.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2REV4VfrbZd41GAGp_C2K5EGH1AVdbmTuItVZ5i2GMWzGAiIef35vwaMfzu_uJnHD6o57w1tvv7TekAspnEr4GXhwpqfSBcEyqFXLhISWCYLgo2zvc4v1tM3-xovGKaW341JBASaSHZ5x/s1600/Kate+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2REV4VfrbZd41GAGp_C2K5EGH1AVdbmTuItVZ5i2GMWzGAiIef35vwaMfzu_uJnHD6o57w1tvv7TekAspnEr4GXhwpqfSBcEyqFXLhISWCYLgo2zvc4v1tM3-xovGKaW341JBASaSHZ5x/s1600/Kate+1.JPG" height="320" width="240"></a>Sometimes, I don't know how to pray. <br>
<br>
Can I ask for my wildest hope?<br>
<br>
I asked my dad about this the other day and he told me a story. Several years ago, he was traveling with a friend whose wife was sick. They met some people who told this friend that they would pray for his wife to be healed by the time he and my dad returned home.<br>
<br>
The friend said this: "If she is healed, I will praise God for that. But if she is not, I want you to know this: I will still praise God."<br>
<br>
Sometimes we are <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=mark+5%3A21-43&version=HCSB">Jairus</a>. We fall to the feet of Jesus and a miracle happens. And sometimes we are Job. We walk through hard things and we are changed. Either way, it is as Job says, "I had heard rumors about You, but now my eyes have seen You" (<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=job+42%3A5&version=HCSB">Job 42:5</a>)<br>
<br>
Over the past month, Lee and I have been both Jairus and Job. We have heard "yes" and we have heard "no." With each answer, another chapter in Kate's story is written down for us to read. <br>
<br>
In the past, I have been timid to pray for big things. Not because I don't think He can, but because I'm afraid He will say no.<br>
<br>
But here's what I remembered about my God yesterday: He is Father. <br>
<br>
He does not sit on a high mountain and demand more faith in return for favors. As David writes in Psalm 54, "God is my helper; the Lord is the sustainer of my life." He knows the depth of my longing, and He will help me with the tenderness of a caring Daddy.<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ4MCazJFRm7oTCVN8swLD7vgvcs-33gKM0RIjn1EmYbH5zAVgA0sXMr77rgXMQN6slpKvHTrCaBfm8fox_O9fOOvBBUcppbNs-762vzgsJr6MCtQaDnXzRtJp9Jcjhm3MGJv-95boWqZR/s1600/Kate+and+Daddy+storytime.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZ4MCazJFRm7oTCVN8swLD7vgvcs-33gKM0RIjn1EmYbH5zAVgA0sXMr77rgXMQN6slpKvHTrCaBfm8fox_O9fOOvBBUcppbNs-762vzgsJr6MCtQaDnXzRtJp9Jcjhm3MGJv-95boWqZR/s1600/Kate+and+Daddy+storytime.JPG" height="240" width="320"></a></div>
<br>
So, I am learning to ask daringly. And trust that regardless of the answer, it is always good.<br>
<br>
Here's what we are praying now. Will you pray boldly with us?<br>
<br>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7TuqDBtDF1uc7sKw805e0FkF-tk2nkE4a8ln4tnAAg3yfnf8N6cLMC5ugntnN1JyTzQDTsFrqcoALVw_cp-bWvXVciXg06XqBShWIxfY-G4bBr1Z7mcVK_cRoz-6sVA1DQRL5P7a1n5nV/s1600/Kate+bottle.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7TuqDBtDF1uc7sKw805e0FkF-tk2nkE4a8ln4tnAAg3yfnf8N6cLMC5ugntnN1JyTzQDTsFrqcoALVw_cp-bWvXVciXg06XqBShWIxfY-G4bBr1Z7mcVK_cRoz-6sVA1DQRL5P7a1n5nV/s1600/Kate+bottle.JPG" height="320" width="240"></a></div>
1. That Kate would be able to eat through her mouth. With a baby who has a tracheostomy, there is a greater risk of aspiration (getting milk into her lungs), and it is also harder for her to suck. Many babies who have tracheostomies also have G-tubes (a feeding tube in the tummy). The Occupational Therapist has worked with her a few times on using a bottle, and while it is difficult for her, she has not aspirated! So, we will keep working! Please pray that Kate continues to improve, and that she can come home safely without a G-tube.<br>
<br>
2. That Kate would be able to someday use her hands, legs, and feet. She has stiffness in her joints that physical and occupational therapy are working to help. (And they have been doing an amazing job so far-- we are SO thankful for our PT/ OT team!) We have no idea how much she will improve over time, but please pray for Kate's future mobility.<br>
<br>
3. That Kate's vocal cords would start working. This is a really hard one for me to ask, because it is a long shot. Sometimes, babies with bilateral vocal cord paralysis do spontaneously recover, but not in many cases. Also, we have no idea what is causing her vocal cord paralysis, so we have no idea if they can recover. Most likely, Kate will have her trach for a few years and then she will have some surgeries to try to create an airway in her trachea. But, we are asking boldly, and <i>whether the answer is yes or no, we trust that God will use this part of Kate's story for something good.</i><br>
<br>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-61891942933624417342014-03-01T14:10:00.003-06:002014-03-01T14:10:28.140-06:00Wait.A writing professor once told me, "Start writing your story. Don't plan for the end before you begin. Simply start writing, tell the truth, and see where you go."<br />
<br />
Once I started following his advice, my bad poetry improved dramatically. And my pen started teaching me. <br />
<br />
I think about that now as I pen Kate's story. So badly I want to control the outcome. I want to know how long we will be in the NICU. I want to know a specific diagnosis. I want to know if she will ever be able to use her hands or legs. I want to know how long she will have her trach. I want to know what her story will be.<br />
<br />
So I ask. But, the answer is always the same.<br />
<br />
Wait and see.<br />
<br />
I hate waiting. This is why I rummaged through all the Christmas presents in my mom's closet every December. (Sorry, Mom.) This is why I swallow novels in a day or two, neglecting basically everything else. I need to know the outcome. But, I can't know it right now.<br />
<br />
I must instead simply live the story, tell the truth, and see what I learn.<br />
<br />
So far, I've learned that miracles exist. So many prayers have been answered-- each time a doctor gives good news, I feel my God holding my face in his hands and pulling my nose close to His to say, "Trust me." <br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjZI5V1pI6wCkq-89UYBnWc0PzqA02qX1sklgCvh9gDq5xMg8o5q9mipC9l7Q0V9cjjN39jIBO0HTctlvzC-DDJiABoxuAqdhwE2bLgvLQPJpcvsojZT_-5a4nTp0YlpgEa0Go64o0zgNi/s1600/IMG_3784.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjZI5V1pI6wCkq-89UYBnWc0PzqA02qX1sklgCvh9gDq5xMg8o5q9mipC9l7Q0V9cjjN39jIBO0HTctlvzC-DDJiABoxuAqdhwE2bLgvLQPJpcvsojZT_-5a4nTp0YlpgEa0Go64o0zgNi/s1600/IMG_3784.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a>Yesterday, Kate weaned off her ventilator. (I got to hold her for the first time in a week and a half!) Also, her hip ultrasound was normal! And, she will get to try a bottle sometime in the next few days. Her doctor said, "Kate is defying all the odds."<br />
<br />
My God whispers, "Trust me."<br />
<br />
I've also learned that hard things happen. And they do not immediately resolve. We still have a long way to go before we get any conclusive diagnosis. We still have several years of physical and occupational therapy ahead. We still are learning about all the particular challenges that come with caring for Kate's trach.<br />
<br />
And still, my God whispers, "Trust me."<br />
<br />
I think King David heard this whisper. His Psalms rustle palpably with this whisper. While he tells of doubt, distress, destruction, he also tells of a God who is a Rock, a Refuge. And he tells of the beauty of waiting.<br />
<br />
He writes in Psalm 40:<br />
I waited patiently for the <span class="small-caps divine-name" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>,<br />
<span class="text Ps-40-1">and He turned to me and heard my cry for help.<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-HCSB-14527A" title="See cross-reference A">A</a>)"></sup></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-2" id="en-HCSB-14528">He brought me up from a desolate<sup class="footnote" value="[<a href="#fen-HCSB-14528a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]">[<a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Psalm+40&version=HCSB#fen-HCSB-14528a" title="See footnote a">a</a>]</sup> pit,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-2">out of the muddy clay,<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-HCSB-14528B" title="See cross-reference B">B</a>)"></sup></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-2">and set my feet on a rock,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-2">making my steps secure.<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-HCSB-14528C" title="See cross-reference C">C</a>)"></sup></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3" id="en-HCSB-14529">He put a new song in my mouth,</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3">a hymn of praise to our God.<sup class="crossreference" value="(<a href="#cen-HCSB-14529D" title="See cross-reference D">D</a>)"></sup></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3">Many will see and fear</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3">and put their trust in the <span class="small-caps divine-name" style="font-variant: small-caps;">Lord</span>.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3"></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3">And so I trust that in the waiting there is beauty. In the waiting I will grow. In the waiting I will sing a new song. And in the waiting God will get glory.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3"></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3"></span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3">Prayer requests for this week:</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3">-That Kate would continue to breathe well off the ventilator.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3">-That Kate would learn to eat through her mouth, despite the challenge of swallowing with her trach.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3">-That Lee and I would quickly and confidently learn to care for Kate's trach.</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3">-That Kate would keep making great progress so that she can come home soon!</span><br />
<span class="text Ps-40-3">-That God would prepare Avery to be a gentle, understanding, protective big sister of Kate.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-30866174741662939412014-02-23T13:55:00.000-06:002014-02-23T13:55:48.330-06:00How to Deal with a Bad Hair Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfz5pjMGMRt3h8dOCH7_Lwp3T-_zlJWGXOx1buaczwTOub4iCRU47Lz3ExgDEbWsNroFBqfWPkdDsOtVSxIHxsor00-5j9ackWSSyW1-i8sfO_afYAomXwsK6pD9gjZaPgQSzXc_hfAXWm/s1600/Kate's+hair.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfz5pjMGMRt3h8dOCH7_Lwp3T-_zlJWGXOx1buaczwTOub4iCRU47Lz3ExgDEbWsNroFBqfWPkdDsOtVSxIHxsor00-5j9ackWSSyW1-i8sfO_afYAomXwsK6pD9gjZaPgQSzXc_hfAXWm/s1600/Kate's+hair.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>They shaved my baby's head.<br />
<br />
Not just a piece of it. I'm talking Rhianna/ Miley style... half of her hair is gone.<br />
<br />
So, I did what any normal mother would do in this situation: I had a good, long, ugly cry and bought her some headwraps on Etsy.<br />
<br />
The nurses at the hospital were precious and put her hair in a little bag for me and decorated a sign that reads, "Kate's 1st Haircut." But, I loved her hair. I loved the way it stuck up a little after a bath. I loved running my fingers through it to put her to sleep. I loved the way her hair somehow always smelled of powder and softness.<br />
<br />
But I also know that they had to do it. She needed a PICC line, and babies simply have more cooperative veins in their heads. They had to do it so they don't have to prick her any more than is necessary. They had to do it for her own good.<br />
<br />
But, I loved her hair.<br />
<br />
I live in this tension between my logic and my sensibility. I know that we are doing what's best for her, but I hate that what's best for her sometimes hurts her. Or takes away one more piece of a "normal" babyhood.<br />
<br />
So, I turn to some others who have lived also in this tension. Those who took frightening steps forward, knowing with certainty that all things-- even hard things, especially hard things-- lead to something better.<br />
<br />
Hebrews 11. <a href="http://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=Hebrews+11&version=HCSB">Read it</a> if you haven't. It is Abel, it is Enoch, it is Noah, Abraham, Sarah and Isaac. It is Moses, it is Joshua, it is Rahab. It is story after story of people who walked through the proverbial fire and came out not burned, but refined. It is story after story of faith.<br />
<br />
"Therefore," as Paul writes, "since we have such a great cloud of witnesses," we keep going.<br />
<br />
We look to the right and the left and we see the ones who run this race with us-- the heroes of the stories of old, and the friends who hold us up when we are tired.<br />
<br />
We look then to the finish line. We keep our eyes fixed on the finish line because our Jesus is there. And our Jesus has run the race ahead of us-- he knows about pain. But, he also knows that there is joy in refinement. There is joy in finishing well.<br />
<br />
<br />
Prayer requests this week:<br />
-That Kate would continue to heal well from her tracheotomy.<br />
-That Kate would be able to safely come off her ventilator soon.<br />
-That Kate would have the coordination to eat through her mouth with the trach. (If she cannot eat through her mouth well, she will need a G-tube for feeding through her belly. A G-tube is safe and easy, but I am hoping for one less surgery for her.)<br />
-That Avery would have great quality time with my parents in Dallas.<br />
-That Lee and I would continue to have strength, patience, and energy as we continue our time in the NICU.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-59208599651565397762014-02-19T22:46:00.001-06:002014-02-19T22:46:18.607-06:00Consider It Great Joy<div class="MsoNormal">
The past few days have rushed by like a hurricane—information
and test results and procedures and probable diagnoses slapping against us and
whirling around us at a maddening speed, bending us and breaking off our
branches so that we are stripped bare.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are tired.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I can’t really say whether the past few days have felt like
minutes or years. Both, maybe. I can say, however, that we are moving forward.
And I am confident that we are helping Kate.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But still—my mommy heart breaks.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdYp5Nj_-CR1qbawszIf7ScHOnu_hUdUgXjlktaKOw2evO04HqmZlYqXI6dhxb0p-qiWXPkqVeSkr0ztSTZSyT7PVf8Ol4XOcVlA1PMpJJkkLqp_FxAWNz-2Nr57VzR6y9HHBKpGfFNovP/s1600/IMG_4943.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdYp5Nj_-CR1qbawszIf7ScHOnu_hUdUgXjlktaKOw2evO04HqmZlYqXI6dhxb0p-qiWXPkqVeSkr0ztSTZSyT7PVf8Ol4XOcVlA1PMpJJkkLqp_FxAWNz-2Nr57VzR6y9HHBKpGfFNovP/s1600/IMG_4943.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, Kate had a tracheotomy. On Monday, the ENT found that
she has bilateral vocal cord paralysis (in other words: her vocal cords don’t
move; therefore, she was having a difficult time breathing). So, she will now
breathe through a small tube in her trachea. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Here’s the amazing thing: when the doctors put in her trach,
they were shocked that she had been breathing on her own at all. So, we learned
today that our Kate is a fighter and our God is in her corner. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Other good news: Kate’s brain MRI and her microarray (more
detailed chromosome test) were completely normal. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, dear ones—keep praying. We have seen miracles because of
prayer. We do not know what miracles lay ahead. This we know: as Kate’s story
unfolds, God shows Himself.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we were driving to the hospital this morning, Lee
reminded me of James 1. James writes, “Consider it great joy, my brothers,
whenever you experience various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith
produces endurance. But endurance must do its complete work, so that you may be
mature and complete, lacking nothing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so we endure. Some nights, I feel as if I’ve been poured
out beyond what I ever had to offer. Tonight is one of those. But in the
morning, I will get up and go see my baby. I will kiss her forehead and marvel
at her tiny softness. And I will know that there is great joy in this trial. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Endure with us, friends. We have a few weeks before we leave
the NICU and we covet your prayers. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pray these things for us:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-That Kate would heal completely from her tracheotomy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-That Kate would have the ability to eat through her mouth
once she heals.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-That Kate’s hip ultrasound this week would bring good news
regarding her future mobility.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-That Lee and I would have endurance and energy for these next
few weeks in the NICU.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
-That Avery would begin to understand what it means to be a
big sister, and that God would maximize the time that we spend with her.<o:p></o:p></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-4287704374403995412014-02-15T10:05:00.002-06:002014-02-15T10:05:37.382-06:00What I Can HandlePeople say, "God won't ever give you more than you can handle."<br />
<br />
Here's the thing: These past 10 days have been more than I can handle.<br />
<br />
My heart breaks when I leave my baby in her plastic NICU crib every night. I want her home. My heart breaks when I leave my 3 year old every morning to be at the hospital. She is in good hands, but I still hate leaving her. My heart breaks this week.<br />
<br />
Today, Kate travels to the medical center. And my heart breaks a little more knowing that she will be a bit farther away. Yesterday, they found that her vocal cords do not seem to be moving out of the way when she breathes, so they are taking her to have another scope of her throat and an MRI of her brain.<br />
<br />
Originally, they thought Kate might come home today. I am beyond thankful that they found this before she came home and we had a problem we could not handle ourselves. I am beyond thankful that we live near some of the best hospitals and doctors in the world. I am beyond thankful that the outlook today is much different than it was a week ago. But still- my heart breaks.<br />
<br />
So- because I cannot handle this, I look up.<br />
<br />
My God does not promise that He will only give me what I can handle.** I see King David who writes of weakness. I see Job who lost everything. I see the apostles who were martyred for their faith. However, I see not superhuman strength in each of these stories, but a supernatural God who is both powerful creator and compassionate father. And I look up because He is there.<br />
<br />
David writes, "You Yourself have recorded my wanderings. Put my tears in Your bottle... This I know: God is for me." (Psalm 56:8-9)<br />
<br />
The God I know is one who cares. With the tenderness of a mommy who wipes her baby's tears, He collects ours. With the compassion of a daddy who works to protect his family, He binds up our hearts as they break.<br />
<br />
The God I know is a powerful one. David writes, "He reaches down from heaven and saves me." (Psalm 57:3) And so He does. He may not save me from hard things, but He does save me from despair.<br />
<br />
The refuge that is my God is better than simply "looking at the glass half full." He is peace during what feels like an uncontrollable season.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsAtcuFnt1M8PSTtbrTYVQKobI-daexhK6ad9KlSz5No6KGWhpsxKq2Vmu42OUZwSai1JLDnidM8eTXTQ-o_eILm_3bS1VWqit2OMuB5Og_U-LcGkwZC9K3r_s7Jxnt3wllZS1FQvV1I5C/s1600/Kate+and+Daddy+Valentines.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsAtcuFnt1M8PSTtbrTYVQKobI-daexhK6ad9KlSz5No6KGWhpsxKq2Vmu42OUZwSai1JLDnidM8eTXTQ-o_eILm_3bS1VWqit2OMuB5Og_U-LcGkwZC9K3r_s7Jxnt3wllZS1FQvV1I5C/s1600/Kate+and+Daddy+Valentines.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a>And so, friends- continue to pray. Because of the unbelievable amount of prayer that buoys our family right now, we have seen victories and we have felt peace.<br />
<br />
Here is what you can pray:<br />
-Praise that Kate has been doing well being off both her feeding tube and her oxygen tube for the last couple days!<br />
-That God would give Kate's doctors in the med center wisdom to know how to help her in the best possible way.<br />
-That we would continue to feel at peace with her move and the things we might learn about her in the next few days/ weeks.<br />
-That we would have patience as we wait for Kate to be ready to come home.<br />
-That Avery would feel loved by Lee and me.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
**The verse that is often misunderstood is 1 Corinthians 10:13. It is about temptation. Here, God promises that He will never tempt us beyond what we can bear.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-32205580784821642802014-02-12T09:31:00.002-06:002014-02-12T10:00:30.717-06:00Celebrate!There is a story in 2 Samuel 6 that I love. And I keep coming back to it because it gives me perspective, and it gives me hope.<br />
<br />
Here's the (abbreviated) story: King David wanted to bring back the ark of the covenant to Israel. (Ark meaning a box that held the presence of God, not Noah's big boat.) As they journeyed back to the city of David, they stopped after every six steps and praised God.<br />
<br />
This seems a really inefficient way to travel a long distance, but sometimes I think we learn more when we stop, reflect, celebrate, and then look to the next six steps.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSZDTFWE1sOWlJsuIQO8-IoRCk5N8W7RTzkFhZB007CaS2dwlaCiucVqcXtssHRHNTgEde1eeAATWzZUNgR7N1tYfafshA3f-q7mPItyYo4JuXrfM5gc9kWdy8L4_gQwZINIKRu2btSeB/s1600/Kate+toes.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivSZDTFWE1sOWlJsuIQO8-IoRCk5N8W7RTzkFhZB007CaS2dwlaCiucVqcXtssHRHNTgEde1eeAATWzZUNgR7N1tYfafshA3f-q7mPItyYo4JuXrfM5gc9kWdy8L4_gQwZINIKRu2btSeB/s1600/Kate+toes.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a>Yesterday was Day 6. And so, we stop and celebrate! We celebrate not only because Day 6 was GREAT, but also because God has been doing some really big things through our very small Kate... things that are bigger than just our story.<br />
<br />
Now, the update: Yesterday, the doctor gave us some preliminary genetic test results. (One prayer answered- we heard back about the test much sooner than expected!) Essentially, we had a preview of the final test results, and Kate has the right number of chromosomes in the few cells they have looked at so far -- that means she does not have classic Trisomy 13 or 18! (Second prayer answered- our worst case scenario is ruled out.) Also, Kate has been eating through her mouth during the last few feedings! (Third prayer answered- she is improving!)<br />
<br />
Can you hear our mighty God whispering hope to us?<br />
<br />
We do not know exactly what challenges Kate will face going forward (and there will be some). We do not know what other chromosomal issues may surface on the final test. We do not know if we will ever have a clear diagnosis. But we do know that our God has given us hope for Kate's future. The picture has shifted from death to life-- I can now see beyond the next year, and I can hope that Kate will grow up to play in the yard with her sister and laugh with us.<br />
<br />
So, dear ones-- keep praying for us. We feel it.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-60521618149986936622014-02-11T09:09:00.000-06:002014-02-11T09:09:10.206-06:00On PrayerA great many things I do not know. Two things I know for certain: this is hard and this is not an accident.<br />
<br />
"Be strong and courageous."<br />
<br />
These are the Words that have become my heartbeat over the past 4 days.<br />
<br />
"I will never leave you nor forsake you. Be strong and courageous."<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKj2vs_Cyx5-0MVb1CSFwmO3i5i1Yc6XJOViLUQxTLxOYkLVtXdAcdbHFzGca8xsh2-ufnuc8x3aMugnmALd484mh__WmkODtkpJ05qoWsWJboHU6NGdbBJAbPlpi-pF9KCIfOKNd75EsJ/s1600/Kate+holding+hands.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKj2vs_Cyx5-0MVb1CSFwmO3i5i1Yc6XJOViLUQxTLxOYkLVtXdAcdbHFzGca8xsh2-ufnuc8x3aMugnmALd484mh__WmkODtkpJ05qoWsWJboHU6NGdbBJAbPlpi-pF9KCIfOKNd75EsJ/s1600/Kate+holding+hands.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a>God tells this to Joshua three times before his story really begins. And now, my God is whispering this to me. When our families vigil with us and take care of Avery so we don't have to worry, I hear His whisper. When doctors and nurses show compassion beyond what is required, I hear His whisper. As we read countless cards, texts, emails, and messages from friends and family, I hear His whisper. When I feel supernatural peace cover my soul like a blanket as I hurt and wrestle with hard questions, I hear His whisper.<br />
<br />
"Above all, be strong and courageous."<br />
<br />
Three times God says this, but one time the people say this to Joshua. You, dear ones, are our people. Lee and I have simply been overwhelmed by the love you have shown us, and we could not be more thankful. Many of you have asked what you can do for us. So, here is your task:<br />
<br />
Pray.<br />
<br />
I mean it. Pray for us. Even if it's been years since you talked to God. Pray. Because so many have literally bent to their knees in prayer for us, we have heard our mighty God whisper as we love our precious baby girl and wonder what is next for her.<br />
<br />
So, here is how you can pray:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicX0doFQII4indjWERB3XrnUQe2BbtUQlg4OqBxeB2M2lHtVA2sa8TPUJoJT2RiIIad6JaJ1CPJd6zaUSmUrOG0pQcWAYC_APtx20sEyYSSmqvut1NkdKtB4LlUpwfOaBL3h49szP31keQ/s1600/Kate+and+Daddy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicX0doFQII4indjWERB3XrnUQe2BbtUQlg4OqBxeB2M2lHtVA2sa8TPUJoJT2RiIIad6JaJ1CPJd6zaUSmUrOG0pQcWAYC_APtx20sEyYSSmqvut1NkdKtB4LlUpwfOaBL3h49szP31keQ/s1600/Kate+and+Daddy.JPG" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>For Kate's breathing to improve. She breathes too quickly sometimes, and her oxygen levels drop a little when she gets upset. (Like during diaper changes or when it's time to eat.) </li>
<li>For Kate to be able to manage breathing and eating through her mouth at the same time. Today, she was able to eat through her mouth for about 3 minutes, which was amazing!</li>
<li>For Kate's genetic test results to come back quickly. Right now, they are thinking we may have them by the beginning of next week. These results could tell us her specific diagnosis, and after we have those results, the doctors will begin to make a plan for further treatments and her coming home. So, the sooner the better.</li>
<li>For Avery to somehow understand what is going on, and for her to feel loved by Lee and me, even as we spend a good portion of every day in the NICU. We are SO thankful for our families who are making this crazy season as seamless as possible for Avery. </li>
<li>For Lee and me to wait with peace. Also, for us to grow together as we try to figure out our new normal.</li>
</ul>
<div>
I love knowing that our Kate is prayed for continuously-- it reminds me that my God is Creator, and He creates with beautiful purpose. </div>
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<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-61757532576690750012014-02-09T10:28:00.001-06:002014-02-09T23:50:22.536-06:00Kate Aimee OwenAt 5 AM on Wednesday, I woke up knowing that my baby would come. Only a few more hours, and Avery could meet her baby sister. She could hold her, feed her, pat her head, and give her sweet kisses. We would take an adorable family picture in the hospital room and send it out to all our friends and family. We would bring that sweet baby back to our home and put her in the purple and gray room that we have had ready for weeks. We would love that baby, and she and Avery would grow up to be the best of friends-- laughing and arguing and getting into trouble together, standing up for one another when the other had a stupid boyfriend or a mean friend, telling each other secrets, planning life together. Just like me and my sisters.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
At 5 AM on Thursday, I went to sleep in my hospital room for the first time in 24 hours, Lee's and my life trajectory pummeling down an entirely different path than we ever thought possible. For the first 15 minutes of Kate's life, she was blue. It was horrifying, but I thought that once she turned pink and began to breathe, everything would be okay. But, then words like "mutation" and "problems" and "chromosomal abnormality" and "condition incompatible with life" started swirling into our world at a mind boggling speed. And when I woke up at 6 AM on Thursday, I felt like I was waking up into a bad dream. </div>
<div>
<br />
So, Day 1. We learned on Day 1 that our sweet Kate most likely has a chromosomal issue, and it most likely has to do with her 18th chromosome. Other than that, the only diagnosis we will get for a while is "Wait." So, we wait until her genetic test comes back, we wait to think about the future, we wait on the Lord to show us why. No matter what, Kate will be a special needs child. We are uncertain about exactly what that means for Kate and for us, so we wait. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
As our dear friend Doug told us, there is only one Day 1. Thank God. One more dimension is now added to my understanding of Jeremiah's words in Lamentations 3: "His mercies are new every morning." Because I have started really hating waking up in the morning. I have to remember all over again every time I wake up that my baby is in the NICU and not with me, that we have no idea what the future holds for us or for Kate. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfRivPUikiitJWYiDXnoSwxXLgalWt2ytzNO3-GrQ4NxuGLQV5GCNITWUSGgEnuQfT3NyPHvRuOaKQXT_kU_BJXsvvPt2tgc_LtQdYwCWdHWY7bS4RqKPZKHUNPSCetWlC6LwjDaAyiNR/s1600/photo+2+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBfRivPUikiitJWYiDXnoSwxXLgalWt2ytzNO3-GrQ4NxuGLQV5GCNITWUSGgEnuQfT3NyPHvRuOaKQXT_kU_BJXsvvPt2tgc_LtQdYwCWdHWY7bS4RqKPZKHUNPSCetWlC6LwjDaAyiNR/s1600/photo+2+(2).JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
But, each morning the pain is salved a bit more with peace. And I believe that peace comes from a God who knows exactly what Kate's chromosomes look like and exactly what the future will be. I believe we have an unbelievable support group of friends and family who are constantly and fervently interceding for us in prayer. And I believe that while coming home from the hospital without an infant carseat in the back was never my plan, God knew. And He knows why. </div>
<div>
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<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="text Ps-139-13" id="en-NIV-16253" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; position: relative;">For you created my inmost being;<span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-16253Q" title="See cross-reference Q">Q</a>)"></span></span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-139-13" style="position: relative;">you knit me together<span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-16253R" title="See cross-reference R">R</a>)"></span> in my mother’s womb.<span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-16253S" title="See cross-reference S">S</a>)"></span></span></span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="text Ps-139-14" id="en-NIV-16254" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; vertical-align: top;">14 </span>I praise you<span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-16254T" title="See cross-reference T">T</a>)"></span> because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-139-14" style="position: relative;">your works are wonderful,<span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-16254U" title="See cross-reference U">U</a>)"></span></span></span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-139-14" style="position: relative;">I know that full well.</span></span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="text Ps-139-15" id="en-NIV-16255" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; vertical-align: top;">15 </span>My frame was not hidden from you</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-139-15" style="position: relative;">when I was made<span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-16255V" title="See cross-reference V">V</a>)"></span> in the secret place,</span></span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-139-15" style="position: relative;">when I was woven together<span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-16255W" title="See cross-reference W">W</a>)"></span> in the depths of the earth.<span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-16255X" title="See cross-reference X">X</a>)"></span></span></span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="text Ps-139-16" id="en-NIV-16256" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px; position: relative;"><span class="versenum" style="display: block; font-size: 0.75em; font-weight: bold; left: -4.8em; position: absolute; vertical-align: top;">16 </span>Your eyes saw my unformed body;</span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-139-16" style="position: relative;">all the days ordained<span class="crossreference" style="font-size: 0.65em; font-weight: bold; vertical-align: top;" value="(<a href="#cen-NIV-16256Y" title="See cross-reference Y">Y</a>)"></span> for me were written in your book</span></span><br style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;" /><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span class="indent-1-breaks" style="font-size: 0.42em; line-height: 0;"> </span><span class="text Ps-139-16" style="position: relative;">before one of them came to be.</span></span></span></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="indent-1" style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span class="text Ps-139-16" style="position: relative;">Psalm 139:13-16</span></span></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-23803684902735282082013-06-03T17:05:00.000-05:002013-06-03T17:07:09.848-05:003 Things I'm (Re-)Learning about Body ImageI thought I got over this in high school. I really did. Body image. That nasty issue I typically associate with the teenage years. To be honest, I really don't like this topic because I think it can be a bit cliche for the female crowd.<br />
<br />
However, I find that this issue creeps back around as we women start having babies. From the time a woman announces her pregnancy, it seems that every friend, family member, acquaintance, and stranger feels the divine right to comment on her figure:<br />
"Oh, you look huge!" (Gee... thanks?)<br />
"Wow, you only look big from the side!" (Ok, then-- just stand behind me.)<br />
"I think it's a girl-- your face looks rounder." (Old wives' tale, by the way.)<br />
"I think it's a girl-- you're carrying the weight all around your middle instead of out in front." (Another old wives' tale. Why are baby girls always to blame for the worst preggo symptoms? Not cool, old wives.)<br />
"Are you sure you're not having twins??" (Nope. But thanks anyways.)<br />
<br />
And then-- after you have the baby, it seems like it's a race to get the weight off as quickly as possible. You expect to snap back to normal... but regardless of the amount of kale you consume or the number of trips you take to the gym, it seems that some things have snapped back to the wrong places.<br />
<br />
About a week ago, a friend made a fairly innocuous comment about my body. It doesn't matter what the comment was or why it was made-- what matters is that I allowed it to seep into my conscious, to cloud my vision every time I looked into the mirror. I should have shut it out. I should have remembered Psalm 139 and the words David wrote about God's intentional creation of me. I should have remembered that my God is bigger than a foolish, vain, temporal wish to look a certain way. But, I didn't. And I let it drag down my soul for a time.<br />
<br />
And then, while corralling my fidgety little girl at the grocery store, I saw her: slightly greenish pallor, <strike>hips</strike> pelvic bone and angular shoulders protruding from underneath her sweatpants and long sleeves despite the 90 degree Houston heat. A skeleton with clothes. She had one banana in her cart.<br />
<br />
And then, by God's grace, perspective snapped back into focus.<br />
<br />
I don't want my daughter to inherit a nagging worry about her figure. I'm sure Hollywood will drum up quite enough insecurity; I don't want her to get that from me, too. From me, I want her to gather the tools and the strength to combat the inevitable body image enemy. But first, I have to fight this enemy myself. Which brings me to my first point:<br />
<br />
<b>1. The body image issue is, in fact, an enemy and it is from The Enemy.</b><br />
We like to think that pride and insecurity are antonyms. Not true. Paradoxically, these two vices are two sides of the very same coin-- they both create an unhealthy focus on self. And, if the Enemy can turn one's thoughts inward, he has just created an idol.<br />
The remedy? I fix my gaze on things bigger than myself. It is when I look to the immovable strength of the mountains, the vastness of the sky, the expanse of the ocean that I, like Job, think "Who am I?" And, this is not a self-loathing; on the contrary, this is when I feel most self-aware, most energized. When I know that I am part of something much greater than myself, I seem to forget that maybe I don't have 6-pack abs. In fact, this notion even seems silly. Insignificant.<br />
<br />
<b>2. Pursuit of Skinny and Pursuit of Health are NOT the same thing.</b><br />
I hate Pinterest. Actually, that's a lie-- I love Pinterest. What I hate is when I search for work-out routines on Pinterest and half the images that appear are smatterings of uber-toned female body parts. Usually, it isn't even an entire body. Just a leg or a stomach or a bicep or a booty. And people call that inspiring??<br />
Give me a whole woman to model after. One who pursues health-- in body, mind, and spirit. It is good to eat right, to exercise. But, it's the mindset that matters.<br />
One who pursues skinny embarks on an endless chase that never results in satisfaction. There is always something to fix, a new fad diet to try. It is a persistent nagging that you aren't good enough, you'll never be good enough, why can't you just be like (fill in the blank with perceived "perfect" person). It is Envy and Discontent and Pride gripping your heart with their greedy talons.<br />
On the other hand, pursuit of health is about growth, discipline. The apostle Paul deals with this a bit throughout his letters (1 Corinthians 9:24-27, Hebrews 12:1) -- he uses physical exercise as a symbol for spiritual training. And, when we experience what God has to offer our physical bodies through exercise and eating right, we have a more tangible example of how to work for His Kingdom. Not to mention, we have more energy to do what He calls us to do.<br />
So, as Paul says in 1 Corinthians 10:31, "Whether you eat or drink or whatever you do, do it all to the glory of God." In the context of body image, I think this means that I watch my mindset. I pursue healthy; I train myself body, mind, and soul so that not a day goes to waste.<br />
<br />
<b>3. No one is "perfect."</b><br />
It's true. Unless she is airbrushed. Or has had extensive plastic surgery. (In which case, I argue that that person should probably garner more sympathy than admiration.)<br />
As there is nothing new under the sun, the chasing after a "perfect" figure is not new. Different societies throughout history have set "perfect" feminine body types-- and women throughout history have undergone everything from foot-binding to neck rings to ultra-tight corsets to maintain a given "ideal" image.<br />
But, quite frankly-- it is the imperfections that make us each beautiful. When a great work of art is copied over and over again, it becomes cliche, dull, unremarkable. When I try to fit a particular stereotype, I am simply aiming to be a copy. And there's nothing particularly beautiful about a re-print. Nothing to talk about, to admire.<br />
As David writes in Psalm 139, I am "fearfully and wonderfully made" by the Creator of the heavens, the galaxies. I was "skillfully wrought." And, by looking to a man-made version of beauty, I miss true artistry.<br />
<br />
And so-- I turn my eyes outward and upward. I remember that my Creator made me whole-- body, mind and spirit. I remember that I am the way I am on purpose, for a purpose. And it is then that the Gospel of peace renews me. No longer do I slough through my day utterly discontent. I am made in the image of the God of the Universe, and that is a perfectly beautiful thought.<br />
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Question for my readers: When do you struggle with this issue the most? How do you combat it?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-45320856851561722212013-05-14T16:28:00.002-05:002013-05-14T16:40:36.839-05:00Potty Training: I Quit.<div>
Potty training is the worst. The WORST, I tell you. I thought she was ready; I really did. I read every "Potty Train Your Kid in Three Days" book/ blog/ article out there, and we followed every rule. I asked for advice from countless friends who have recently been through the potty training ordeal, and took their advice too. Went cold turkey-- no diapers, no Pull-Ups, just awesome Princess panties. We stayed home for five days straight and I took her potty on the clock every 20 minutes. Gave her stickers, jelly beans, myriad other potty prizes. This works beautifully for some kids; however, you just can't make a tiny person with an iron will sit on the potty and go. </div>
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I think my daughter and I are fairly similar... a little controlling, a lot stubborn, and a penchant for always being "right." So, the same character traits that compelled me to extensively research and devise the "perfect" potty training plan are, quite simply, the same traits that drive her to buck my plan. (We have good qualities too. These just happen to be the traits that terrify me as I look ahead to 2023-- the year she turns 13.)</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2A513TEPUydKv-z6JYGZna7W0I96eiRJI76ppk9dS7_z9A__Y-355ozC1slb31w28MSr_fB77v_5xsfJEBACWfXTK0CaO748iGteE5H4rdib_hSu7GJmKHEmXULohmSWEnhAU82zYCxr/s1600/IMG_2543.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO2A513TEPUydKv-z6JYGZna7W0I96eiRJI76ppk9dS7_z9A__Y-355ozC1slb31w28MSr_fB77v_5xsfJEBACWfXTK0CaO748iGteE5H4rdib_hSu7GJmKHEmXULohmSWEnhAU82zYCxr/s200/IMG_2543.JPG" width="200" /></a>I have a feeling that this struggle of wills is not limited to potty training. And, while I firmly believe that I, as the parent, must exert power over issues of discipline (for instance, when she wants to run in the parking lot, I will win that battle), I'm coming to realize that potty training is not a discipline issue. It's something she needs to figure out on her own. And, something she will figure out on her own sooner or later.</div>
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I never thought I would fall prey to the trap that is trophy parenting. But, there was something about Avery's hitting the two-and-a-half mark, and talking to other moms of two-and-a-half year olds who had successfully potty trained their kids months ago that made me feel like we were behind. I didn't necessarily need to be the one who potty trained her kid first; I guess I just didn't want to be the last. And, as Avery was showing some of the "signs" that I read about in all my books and articles, I bought a pack of Cinderella 2T panties, made a potty chart, planned to stay home for a few days, and started Official Potty Training. </div>
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The first week was okay, with the exception of one or two days. She generally seemed to get it, and liked earning jelly beans and sitting on her princess potty. But as we transitioned back to normal life, potty training got harder. She wouldn't go at school or church with her teachers (whom she adores), and started crying "no potty, no potty" when I asked her if she needed to go. </div>
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<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnTvuMRa8RJzjdqXf-viBwAUkAOfKTggeP8YgQ1WYCZdiGv9sRnM83mcmEIYowK6t-DSn4Z9TPbYFpHDZgvvNJzW7AMeXYQt8PfiD-1_lMyscSCcY4kQerxvdKue0gJex_QOCsdhcKAYcq/s1600/IMG_2566.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a>Finally, I decided to quit. We traded in our Cinderella panties for Ariel/ Minnie Mouse Pull-Ups, and it has been great. If she wants to use the potty, fantastic-- jelly beans are still awarded. If not, no big deal. </div>
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<div>
You see, there were two key pieces of advice I initially neglected:</div>
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1) They won't go to college, or even Kindergarten, in diapers.</div>
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2) Don't sweat the accidents. She'll get it.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDfVa87OfF3qf9OhH2DassiscXLpWGOAYCpj2QW2f-HegfdVUey2ZMcJYP1xQvNoufUFPU_lRTgJGoubJOwGyD0uqGtF5jg7CTuM8XB3ujjzARINz3gME9LFiIjc8lkhumzLdH7IZz3KZ/s1600/IMG_2511.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEDfVa87OfF3qf9OhH2DassiscXLpWGOAYCpj2QW2f-HegfdVUey2ZMcJYP1xQvNoufUFPU_lRTgJGoubJOwGyD0uqGtF5jg7CTuM8XB3ujjzARINz3gME9LFiIjc8lkhumzLdH7IZz3KZ/s200/IMG_2511.JPG" width="200" /></a>I was getting SO frustrated because, well, no one likes to clean up a poopie accident in a public restroom. What I needed was a little perspective-- when I started listening to wise older women who have successful, happy teenage and adult children, I realized that this (difficult) phase is a small one. And, while my baby is small, I need to enjoy her; the last thing we need is headache over something that she'll get in her own time. </div>
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So, I'm giving up control. I love this toddler stage where she plays pretend and makes silly faces and thinks "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" is very serious music. I am in no hurry for her to grow up, and I don't know why I tried to push her. There are a million things I'm sure she'll just need to figure out on her own... how to make friends, how to study effectively, how to put on eyeliner, how to ignore the bad boys, how not to care what the popular kids think, how to get a job and be a responsible human. </div>
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In the meantime, I resolve to be on her team. I resolve to wait for her to really show me that she's ready for the next "big girl" step. It'll come in time. </div>
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Question for my readers: What things have you learned to just let your kids figure out on their own?</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-23572858553647009622013-01-07T17:08:00.001-06:002013-01-07T17:08:23.247-06:00The RainThere's something about a storm that's good for brooding. And there's something about a dark cloud that evidences the might of God. As Francis Schaeffer says, "He is there and He is not silent."<br />
<br />
For centuries, humans have tried to control weather. I'll spare you the history lesson: we can't control it. When the clouds come, how intense the storm, for how long they stay-- we are not in charge.<br />
<br />
And how often do we try to control what is not in our power? As a mom, I've tried to control things. I tried to control Avery's newborn schedule (no one remembers to tell you about colic & reflux); I have tried to control Avery's behavior (after literally carrying a screaming, thrashing toddler through Target, I will never again judge another's parenting); I have even tried to control "perfect" spacing between children (God had other plans).<br />
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When the dark clouds come, I am reminded that there exists a greater force than myself. And I believe in a God that is power itself. <br />
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It was when Jesus calmed a particularly violent storm that the disciples finally looked around and asked each other, "Who is this man?" (Matthew 8:23-27, Mark 4:35-41) And, it is through storms-- both physical and metaphorical-- that we feel the magnitude of His might.<br />
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And though we cannot control the storm, we can control our reaction to it. It is not natural to say of the rain, "What a happy, happy thing!" But, we can choose to delight in the storm-- to feel the crash of the thunder in our bones and witness the potency of something so much bigger than ourselves.<br />
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Storm, amaze me.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-27756163280992568372012-11-07T16:53:00.001-06:002013-01-20T17:40:50.814-06:00To Avery<br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCENJGmodmhJLpS9PzN7TTCzwtvMUdT6bI3FV6iQ26J9lEa1k3woO9_LGcbJ90KxyYWkNG9t72QjVx9ko7xTLfgHWEpG99P0Wx3CckXHCv7YQ3pLvlrW_xuU5tCWMQPuvo7mOXGhPRIesg/s1600/Avery.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCENJGmodmhJLpS9PzN7TTCzwtvMUdT6bI3FV6iQ26J9lEa1k3woO9_LGcbJ90KxyYWkNG9t72QjVx9ko7xTLfgHWEpG99P0Wx3CckXHCv7YQ3pLvlrW_xuU5tCWMQPuvo7mOXGhPRIesg/s200/Avery.bmp" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A few weeks old</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have learned so much in the past two years since I became Mommy. Most of all, I learned what it is to hope for something truly great for someone else. Here is a letter that I wrote to my little one, for whom I hope so much:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My dear baby Avery,<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You turned two last week. We went to the zoo, you rode a
zebra on the carousel, and you had no idea it was your birthday. But I did. You
see, two years ago we brought you home from the hospital. You were impossibly
tiny, and I felt terrified because I’ve never known someone to need so much
from me. Then, I watched a miracle grow. You’re no longer a baby, but a little girl
with a will and a soul. You have eyes that some notice just for the
intensity of color, but I love them for the intensity beyond the blue. There is
so much I want for you, so much I hope for you—I cannot tell you now in a way
that you’ll fully understand, but I can record it here in the hopes that you
read this someday and are inspired. You see, I cannot control you—you are only
mine for a little while, and even now you are not fully mine. I am simply here
to steward you, to shepherd you, to pray especially for you. So, here are the
things I pray:<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD6WJg8EQhsexZTs5SDVZyuK2Ru-spWWDbigYwE7oqTeZWIyZAurEGXFXJL4auG2bIME1siGDnm2jU5LnmVQZjgWM_Zb_VMGP1xCAU1SZ88V76T8d-GKwHp1kP-Q6-zFAyklO021v9Y6z/s1600/Sample+Two-100006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwD6WJg8EQhsexZTs5SDVZyuK2Ru-spWWDbigYwE7oqTeZWIyZAurEGXFXJL4auG2bIME1siGDnm2jU5LnmVQZjgWM_Zb_VMGP1xCAU1SZ88V76T8d-GKwHp1kP-Q6-zFAyklO021v9Y6z/s200/Sample+Two-100006.jpg" width="133" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Almost one</span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">First, I pray that you fall in love with Jesus. I do not
simply want you to become a moral person—I want you to live radically for a God
who will give you purpose. I pray that through your life people see a radiant,
powerful God—but first, you must see this God for yourself. We take you to
church and we read your story Bible, but we cannot give you faith. So, I leave
it up to my radiant, powerful God to show you Himself in His full glory and
imbibe you with strength and joy and compassion.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I pray that you think. As we read in Dr. Seuss, “Think left
and think right and think low and think high!” And, I urge you—think deeply,
wrestle with difficult ideas, question everything. Be a lifelong learner. Read.
Read for pleasure, read to enter new worlds. Most of all, read to evaluate new
thoughts. Then, test those thoughts against what you believe. Learn what you
believe and why you believe it, and have the courage and maturity to share those
thoughts with others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDumR_9xx-0-vk0pe59m0Ts3nCnAmpu1Cc9ApB5Y9ipBiTd8d78KVOUT-2yFgdS1BsFzOeTb9RExQQ31DvyHhTjZn-mm8ZJyg0cdxKwIg-hqa3r16fEG0vuPKRyX54ix9fkE4kX0Xcnl5/s1600/11-7-2012+245.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicDumR_9xx-0-vk0pe59m0Ts3nCnAmpu1Cc9ApB5Y9ipBiTd8d78KVOUT-2yFgdS1BsFzOeTb9RExQQ31DvyHhTjZn-mm8ZJyg0cdxKwIg-hqa3r16fEG0vuPKRyX54ix9fkE4kX0Xcnl5/s200/11-7-2012+245.JPG" width="200" /></span></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Avery's 2nd birthday!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I pray you are compassionate. Compassion moves deeper than niceness—nice
flashes in your smile; compassion blazes in your eyes. Nice asks how someone is
doing; compassion listens to the answer. So, my hope is that you see people as
they are and that you care.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I pray that you fail occasionally—and then learn and grow.
Perhaps this sounds harsh, but from my failures I have grown the most. (Ask me
someday—I’ll tell you about them.) And, as much as I would like to pass you my
experiential wisdom, I can only advise you. Reality is: sometimes you will
listen; sometimes you won’t. Failure is inevitable, so I guess this prayer is really
for me—I pray I don’t get in your way. I pray that God will give me the resolution
not to always rescue you, never to say “I told you so,” but be there to help
dust you off. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Regardless of who you become, I hope you know that I love
you. Also, that I like you. You are funny—especially when you don’t mean to be.
You are determined. You like people. You like the letter W. You are fascinated by the lizards that
live in our backyard. I look forward to watching all these qualities mature in
you (except, perhaps, the liking of lizards…). For now, I pray that I cherish you—
that I never forget your little head on my shoulder, kissing your spongy little
cheeks, your teeny feet in socks, your tiny voice saying, “Mommy, up.” Happiest
of birthdays, sweet one. </span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-75978024986805780782012-09-19T21:47:00.000-05:002012-09-19T21:47:32.409-05:00Living WellI sat outside the other night. (Rare for a mom in Houston-- namely because of the aforementioned terms "mom" and "Houston.") Lee had taken Avery to the bath-- I was supposed to clear the dishes and begin cleaning up, but instead I sat, listened to a few more songs on the playlist, and looked up.<br />
<br />
I hardly ever look up in Houston. (Mostly because of light pollution-- I couldn't really see the stars, so I watched blinking airplanes & thought about the stars instead.) But, the other night, I looked up and remembered that I am small.<br />
<br />
I am a small person with small influence-- in the grand scheme of the universe (airplanes and all), I am a speck; in the grand scheme of history, I am a speck. But, I want to live a life of purpose. <br />
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My grandmother just celebrated her 80th birthday-- let's say I make it to that age, and I have a great, wild birthday blow-out with children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. What do I want? I want to be living a full life; I want to be learning and teaching and laughing and writing and traveling. Until the day I meet my maker, I long to live as a woman of influence, of purpose. But, as a speck, how do I truly live well?<br />
<br />
As David penned Psalm 8, I imagine he, too, sat outside and looked up. He writes:<br />
<em>"When I observe Your heavens, the work of your fingers,</em><br />
<em>the moon and the stars, which You set in place,</em><br />
<em>what is man that You remember him,</em><br />
<em>the son of man that You look after him?"</em><br />
<em></em><br />
I don't have all the answers, but here's what I know-- I am most fulfilled when I am working for something bigger than myself. And, as I look up and think about the cosmic vastness that my God holds in the palm of His hand, my perspective shifts. No longer can I focus inward. <br />
<br />
David continues:<br />
"<em>You made him little less than angels</em><br />
<em>and crowned him with glory and honor.</em><br />
<em>You have given him dominion over the works of your hands;</em><br />
<em>You put everything under his feet."</em><br />
<em></em><br />
The lovely truth is this: my God is glory itself, yet he gives me a role to play in His story. For now, I am mommy to a sticky, determined, laughing little girl. The world dismisses me, tells me I do nothing meaningful. But, my King tells me I am crowned with glory and honor regardless of whether I choose to work at home or outside of it. <br />
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At the end of Tolstoy's <u>Anna Karenina</u>, Levin (one of my favorite characters in all of literature) also looks up. Levin goes out and listens "not so much to his thoughts... as to the state of his soul." To make several chapters short, he comes to this conclusion: "live for God, for the soul."<br />
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There are many things to live for, to work towards. But, when I listen to the state of my soul, I realize that nothing satisfies like enjoying my God and working for His kingdom.<br />
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And so, I think that this what I must do: Look up. Live for God, for the soul.<br />
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-76951470555811472442012-09-07T16:12:00.000-05:002012-09-07T16:12:43.978-05:00PenielIt's strange-- tragedy is usually the best of instructors. I guess this is why <em>Hamlet</em> is so much more interesting to study than <em>Much Ado About Nothing</em>. And why every narrative told in the history of the world sends its hero or heroine through some dark period. <br />
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A year or so ago, I started to pray earnestly for wisdom. I believe fiercely in a God who answers prayer, and I take very literally the words of Solomon in Proverbs 4: "The beginning of wisdom is this: Get wisdom. Though it cost all you have, get understanding." So, I'm not sure why I was so blindsided by my miscarriage-- though, I guess like the camper who comes prepared with a flashlight cannot truly understand the frightening nature of the dark, one cannot truly experience the depth of tragedy if one is prepared for it. <br />
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So, about four months ago, I lost a baby. You can call it a fetus if you'd like, an embryo even, but to me-- it was a life. I had started to think of names, to envision how this new little one would fit into our world. I even bought a Big Sister t-shirt for Avery. (It came in the mail four days after the miscarriage.) And then. And then. And then. I will spare you all the gruesome details-- suffice it to say that, despite my having zero risk factors and already having had one perfectly average pregnancy, it turned out that my little baby, my little life, was growing where it could not possibly thrive. <br />
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At the time, I was reading Genesis and an old story struck me anew-- the story of Jacob as he wrestles with God. (Genesis 32:24-32) The story begins with Jacob being left alone. He began with 15 other people, and that night as he stands on the threshhold of the Promised Land, he is alone. In the dark. While I personally was surrounded by plenty of loving, supportive people, I felt like Jacob. Alone. And simply because, as the only person who could physically feel the life inside of me die, no one else could fully share my grief. And, just as Jacob had to face God alone, I think sometimes we must individually deal with God so as to be like Job when he says, "My ears had heard of You, but now my eyes have seen You" (Job 42:5).<br />
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Now, I find verses 30-31 especially beautiful: "Jacob then named the place Peniel, 'For,' he said, 'I have seen God face to face, and I have been delivered.' The sun shone on him as he passed by Peniel-- limping on his hip."<br />
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The sun is beginning to rise, and while I still limp, I have seen my living God work. C.S. Lewis says, "But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.” When I should have been eaten alive with grief, I felt supernatural peace. When I felt alone, God used others to encourage and fortify me. As I wrestled with God over the past few months, He has spoken to my soul. I know He IS.<br />
<br />
"But You, LORD, are a shield around me,<br />
my glory, and the One<br />
who lifts up my head.<br />
I cry aloud to the LORD,<br />
and He answers me<br />
from His holy mountain.<br />
I lie down and sleep;<br />
I wake again because the LORD sustains me."<br />
Psalm 3:3-5Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1619196613617943103.post-90761619588092691592012-08-20T14:50:00.000-05:002012-08-20T14:54:12.405-05:00The BeginningBlogs should really only be written by interesting people. Or funny people. Or basically anyone who is so busy doing awesome/ noble things that he or she doesn't have time to sit around and compose said interesting/ witty/ world-changing blog.
<br />
<br />
However, like most bloggers out there, I have plenty of time to chronicle my embarrassingly typical existence. So I will. Perhaps writing about my life and thoughts is simply to satisfy my egomaniacal side. (This is the same side of me that posts hip, filtered pictures to Instagram in hopes of receiving as many likes or comments as possible and then posts the same hip, filtered picture to Facebook in order to collect even more e-praise.) Or, perhaps my motives are true and I write simply because I enjoy writing, regardless of the fact that my audience probably consists solely of my parents. <br />
<br />
As a former teacher, I wholeheartedly believe that everyone should be a lifelong learner-- even if one spends most days changing dirty diapers, cutting grapes in half, and wiping cracker residue off of her t-shirt in order to appear presentable to the check-out person at H-E-B. So, here you have it: these are the things I learn.
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09019652456043966503noreply@blogger.com0