One Track Mind

I nanny one of the sweetest little two year old boys in the whole world. I have been taking care of him since he was five months old, and have watched him grown and change. Every single day, he tries something new or says a word I didn't know that he could say. This morning I gave him key lime yogurt. I don't think he has ever tried key lime yogurt. He took his first swallow, looked up at me, and said "Ohhhh! That is yummy!" I melted.


There is one thing, however, about two year old boys - they are not as easily distracted as one year old boys. If he wants something, he does not back down. He polished off his key lime yogurt in about 39 seconds. He opened the fridge, and began asking for another yogurt. I usually grocery shop on the weekend, but my schedule was thrown off this weekend and I only had that ONE yogurt. Enter in the tales of the terrible twos. He fell to the ground and started saying...no - yelling "More yogurt!" After sitting him on my lap and explaining to him that he had eaten the last yogurt, he started wandering around the house crying, "More yogurt!" No matter what I offered, including cookies, he still cried "MORE YOGURT!" That was all he could think of. He has a one track mind.

But are we really all that different?

I started writing my prayers in my journal about two months ago. I felt like my prayer life lacked intention and focus and I figured that actually hand writing my prayers would help me in that department. It has been really helpful. I fill page after page on a daily basis and I am grateful to have an account of the ways that God has moved in my life.

However, yesterday, I decided to look back over my prayers. I was a little bit ashamed that every single day, I begged God for the exact same thing. My prayers are not eloquent. They are not graceful. Page after page is filled with the request for one thing. Sure, I pray for others. I list friends out by name and spend time praying on their behalves. But, for every paragraph written for others and for every paragraph of praise, I am sure there are five paragraphs pleading with God to give us just one thing.

Don't get me wrong, I think it is very appropriate to spend time talking to God about what matters most to you. Philippians 4:6-7 says, "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."I think the only part of that verse that my prayers reflect is the "present your requests to God" part!

This month, in honor of Thanksgiving, I decided to participate in a challenge to post something you are thankful for every day on your Facebook status starting on November 1 all the way through Thanksgiving. I would be lying if I didn't admit that it is hard to think of what to be thankful for on some days. It isn't that I have nothing to be thankful for; it's that I am focused on what I don't have, and it consumes me. I am reduced to two year old stomping my feet and yelling, "MORE YOGURT!" instead of opening my eyes to the immense blessings in my life. God is opening my eyes to the point of Philippians 4:6-7. He is saying, "Stop being anxious", "Be thankful", "Give me your requests and take away My peace."

You see, when I and look around, this month has been absolutely filled with reasons to be thankful:

- Josh was declared cancer free after a mass was found in his chest. 

- A dear friend got engaged to a Godly man.

- A friend we have been praying for came to Christ and was baptized. I get to spend eternity with her in heaven now.

- God has provided for us this month, more than I could even dream possible.

- We found out that our insurance covers infertility treatment 100%. Unheard of.

- My parents have defied the odds and celebrate 31 years of marriage today.

- God has brought restoration to friendships that I desperately need. 

I am so thankful for a patient God. I am thankful that He loves me even when my prayers are more like a angry two year old and less like a blessed soul. I am also thankful that He is teaching me how to pray. I am thankful that He is helping me hope. I am thankful that He calms my fears and draws me close to Him.

I have never had so much to be thankful for.

God is so good to me. 

Expecting

No, I am not pregnant. But I got your attention, no?

I have been mulling over the concept of Hope. It is a word we use all the time. We say things like, "I hope dinner tastes good" or "I hope we can make it on time" but with many words in the English language, I think we cheapen this profound word.

Hope: To believe in, to desire, to trust. The dictionary definition for hope says it is to have the feeling that what is wanted can be had.

But let me be very earnest and frank for a minute. I struggle with Hope. Hope for me is admitting both in my heart and aloud that something means more to me than I even realize. For me, it is coming clean that my emotions and expectations are involved to the point that I could very well be setting myself up for disappointment. Hope for me is frightening. It makes me feel out of control and option-less. I feel vulnerable, like if I admit to myself my true hearts desire and it does not come about, I am left to pick up the pieces and I have never been very good at that.

Am I alone? I doubt it. We pray as though we have very little hope. We approach The Throne of the Almighty cautiously, afraid that if we ask for what we truly want, and if we let ourselves believe in the possibility, we might be left devastated, afraid that our faith will be shaken.

But what if, for a minute, we were able to pray expecting results. What if we were able to come before God and reveal our struggles? What if, instead of praying with a timid spirit, we came before God ready and willing to come clean, make our hearts desire known and then with great expectancy, we waited for Him to move on our behalf.

I have been walking with the Lord since I was five years old. My relationship with God has matured and deepened. I have never wavered, but I have struggled with doubt and fear. Yet, in my twenty-one years of walking with God, I think this might be the first time that I am having a break through about my prayer life. I am starting to see that I equate answered prayers with what God does for us in the physical realm.

Don't let that statement go misunderstood. I believe with my whole heart that God answers our prayers in a physical and tangible way. But, I think I am finally getting to the root of what it means to place our Hope in God.

What if, instead of praying about a specific situation and expecting or hoping for a specific answer, we instead began to place our requests in God's hands and hope in a Never Changing God. What if our Hope lies more in God's character than in what He can do for us? What if we began to pray for specific events with the Hope or expectancy that God is faithful, or kind, or gentle? What if we pray expecting God's character to never change, and we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and honest with a God who promises to, "Preserve those who are true to Him" (Psalm 31:23)

I think my prayer life and my relationship with God has just changed, dramatically. I still have a list of requests for God. I still have very specific desires that I bring before The Throne, but my Hope lies more in what I know about God than in the way He answers my requests. Hope has more to do with remembering WHO God is than in what He can do for you.

Romans 5:1-5
"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into his grace in which we now stand. And we boast in the hope of the glory of God. Not only so but we also glory in our suffering, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."

Choosing Joy

I recently listened to a Joyce Meyer (LOVE her) podcast about Joy. The message is titled “Give Yourself Permission to Enjoy Life.” It was one of those messages that hit me square between the eyes. I was on the elliptical while listening to the message. I ran quicker than I usually do (which isn't saying much).  I hopped off and drove home as fast as possible - I had to take notes. 

I encourage you to listen to her message, however, it was more about what was happening inside my heart as I heard her preach that is worthy of being shared. The entire point of her message was learning to live a joy filled life, while also using joy as a weapon against the devil, who wants you to be joy-less. 

I had never stopped to consider the idea that the Joy of the Lord is actually a weapon that we can use to defend ourselves against the devil and his plans for destruction and despair. 

I have to confess that I have been avoiding blogging lately because I find myself walking around rather deflated. My battle to live the life that God has called me to and my desire to be living a different life right now is conflicting. I have been doing everything in my power to avoid facing those feelings, which has resulted in a lot of mindless TV watching, lots of re-pins on Pinterest, and early bedtimes. Comfort on multiple levels has been my security blanket because the truth is I am hurting. I know in my heart I have taken the desire to have a family and shifted it to my one and only goal in life. I have made it into something much more glamorous, and the only thing that will really ever fulfill me. 

And yet, the still small voice inside of me, when I allow myself to listen to it, reminds me that HE is enough, that HE alone fulfills me. 

It is a part of our culture to hark on the "if only..." or "if this happened, than I would...."  We think that if we could only land the perfect job, or bigger house, or better body our lives would instantly get better. For me, I have always thought that skinny people are happier because what's to hate if you are skinny? I figured if you are skinny, you can buy whatever you want and look cute. Guys would automatically want to date you if you were fine-boned. But, I have met some really unhappy thin people. For a long time, when things didn't go right for me, I figured that being thin would solve all my problems. This has resulted in a lot of self-loathing, horribly unhealthy magic diets, and work out programs that were never realistic. I still struggle with that mindset. I think a lot of us do. 

But, I was reminded this week that God wants us to live the life He has called us to live. Self-loathing, pity, depression, anxiety, frustration and fear are all a part of the devil’s plans to get us off track and to make us lose focus. 

John 10:10 says, “The thief comes to only to steal, and to kill, and to destroy; I come that they may have life and have it to the full.” 

Over this past week, I have taken some time to step back and assess what it is that I need to be doing to not numb my pain and ignore my frustration. Here is what I have found:

1. Spend time with the Lord. Everyday. No matter how busy I get.

2. Read God's Word. It is a Living Word and He uses it to speak directly to us.

3. Pray. Pray for your own situations and pray for others. Taking time to pray for your own life allows you to recognize what you need to let God take control of. Praying for others helps us take our eyes off of ourselves!

4. Expect God to hear and answer your prayers. Assuming He won't is not practicing trust or hopefulness, and it doesn't allow the Power of God to rule in your life or the lives of others.

5. Find ways to bless others. It really lifts your spirits to know you have blessed someone, and it of course blesses them.

6. Get off your duff and do something. Mind numbing activities do not pull you out of slumps; they only perpetuate the situation. 

7. Do what you know makes your body feel better. Eating right and being active help combat the blues from the inside out.

8. Share your struggles with someone who will listen to you. Being heard, with no input on how to fix your problems, helps so much.

These are the 8 things I am focusing on right now. I don't want to squander the life God has for me right now. My life isn't simply about the big life altering moments (like having a baby).  It is about being faithful on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday....well, you get it. It is about letting God rule in my heart and being proactive when it comes to choosing Joy. 

What can you do to proactively choose Joy this week?

Open Hands, Open Heart.

I am learning to give myself a break. I am attempting to be less apologetic for the way that I feel and more forgiving of my own shortcomings. Blogging, for example, is something that in times past has offered me comfort and peace, but recently it has overwhelmed me. I needed a break. Allowing myself that break, without regret, has brought about some time to think, pray, and deal with my feelings more privately. But I think it is time to share a little bit of what God is doing in my life, in my heart, and in my mind.

Open Hands, Open Heart.

I struggle with being open.  Sharing my feelings and thoughts is frightening to me. It is private and intimate. When I started my blog, I had no idea what God would call me to write about. I felt like he was doing so much in my life that I needed an avenue to process and share my feelings. When life got harder, and I got sicker, I needed my blog. I needed to see something good come from it, and I did. I heard from many friends and some complete strangers that connected with what I had to say. It was encouraging and it gave meaning to my suffering. Even though it was frightening to be so transparent in cyberspace, it was completely necessary.

But now, I am not really sure what to say. The truth of the matter is, I am a little miffed that everything I spent my days in the hospital dreaming of has not happened yet. I am not pregnant. Everyone around me is pregnant. But I am not.

I am a planner. I love day dreaming about what my life will end up being like. I have names picked out for potential children (2 boys and 2 girls) and potential new pets. I have a constant "to-do-list" of renovations I would love to do to make our home even more inviting. I have lists upon lists of books I want to read, TV shows I intend to watch, and blogs that I should follow. I make menu lists for the week and shop accordingly. Planning is in my blood and I love it.

So the question I have been asking myself lately is, "What happens when LIFE doesn't go according to plan?"

I think the thing that surprises me over and over again about myself is that I know with so much certainty in my heart that God has a different plan than I do. I have seen his plans unfold in my life and although they rarely match up to my idea of how life should go, in the end they always turn out so much differently, much more perfectly. I wonder, however, how much heartache I could have been spared if I could have learned earlier on to sit back and let God unfold his plan for my life.

My addiction to over-planning came through strongest in my dating life. I learned some hard lessons through terrible breakups, horribly matched prospects, and immature boyfriends. I was quick to be what I thought a good potential wife looked like to prove myself desirable. But God had a different plan. Thank the Lord. I often find myself thinking about what my life would have been like it God had answered my college prayers. I am thankful he did not. Yet, if I am completely honest with myself, I knew all along that God was telling me "No, he isn't for you. Wait...you won't believe what a great man I have in store for you."

People always say that they have no regrets in life. I don't really agree with that statement. Yes, I believe that everything in our lives shapes and molds us into the people that we are. And yes, I also believe that I learned some invaluable lessons along the way. However, it is a sobering thought to realize that if I could only learn to fine tune my ears to listen to the promptings of the Holy Spirit and allow God to direct my paths, my life would look a lot differently, my story less broken and tattered. When I got married, I had my whole heart to give to Josh, but I would have loved to know in my heart that I waited more patiently and that I trusted God's judgment more wholly.

So now, as each month passes and a new cycle starts, as I hear of more friends getting pregnant everyday, as invitations to baby showers pop up in the mailbox, and meals are made for new moms, I am trying my hardest to listen to the very heart beat of God as He reminds me at every corner that HE is in control. I sit with open hands and an open heart and give over control to God. I am reminded in Isaiah 55:8, "My thoughts are not your thoughts, and My ways are not your ways."

"I will say to the Lord, My refuge and my fortress, My God, in whom I trust!" Psalm 91:2

Lazy Summer Days.

Sometimes I feel like I have the memory of a goldfish. I move from day to day sort of absent-mindedly, without a lot of intention. Wake up, shower, go to work, go to the gym, come home, eat dinner, and go to bed. Repeat.

I am becoming more and more aware of my lack of focus lately. I think that summer plays a role in my lackadaisical attitude, but I also think that my mindset is not what it should be right now. I have written several times in the last few weeks, but after spending an hour or so writing a blog, I read it, sigh, save it under the belief that one should never delete their work, no matter how bad it is, and close my laptop. My thoughts are not coherent and I feel like my general feelings towards life lately are not either. I tell you this in hopes that I can push through and touch on the lesson I feel God is really trying to teach me right now.

I have lost my JOY. I feel like I go about everyday doing what needs to be done, but lacking purpose. I am tired and often times foggy in my thinking. I lack the luster for life that someone living in the Abundant Life of Jesus Christ should be living.

There are certainly times in my life where emotions are raw and I have my thumb on the very pulse of my life. In times of grave sorrow or euphoric joy, I know what I am feeling and I know why I am feeling a certain way. I like those moments, even the sad ones, because I know exactly what I am thinking and how I am feeling. The times that are harder for me are the times where my feelings are blasé. There are times where I feel like I haven’t a clue why I am not feeling anything. This past month has been one of those months for me.

I have come to the conclusion that my lack of feelings and emotion stems from my lack of ability to remember- to recall what God has done for me and where he is leading me.

I think I live in the highs and lows of life. I love the anticipation of a big event. I count down to my birthday every single year with anticipation of what a day centered around celebration will bring. The days between Christmas and New Years are always my favorite because the constant state of celebration brings me excitement for what is to come. I love the parties and the time spent with friends and family.

And even in the harder times in life, I feel myself drawing closer to God and to my family. In a strange way, I appreciate feeling that sense of utter dependency on God to provide for my needs and to comfort my heart. I don’t love pain, in a sick way, but I have come to appreciate the amount of growth that I know takes place inside of my heart in the dips of life.   

Yet, I am finally figuring out that I don’t do well in the middle of life when everything seems to be going okay and nothing big is happening. I think I slump into a state of apathy in the middle and it takes something big for me to be able to feel something again.

A wise friend once warned me what a grave sin is it is to forget what God has done for us, be it in the good or the bad times, the celebratory or the devastating times in life. I couldn’t agree more, and yet, in the middle of the summer, the middle of July, and the middle of the country, I am feeling stuck in the middle.

My aversion to all things middle started when I was little. I hate sitting in the middle seat of a car, never certain which way I should let my legs fall and always paranoid that my legs will get sticky all squished against someone else. I hate sitting in the middle of the aisle at church because I am always worried I will have to get up and go use the restroom in the middle of the service and trip over someone’s purse or legs. I hate the middle of a book (especially one with a great plot) because I am hooked by the first few chapters, but then I also have no closure and am stuck daydreaming about possible endings until I finally just give in and read the rest of the book. I am middle child. I am not nearly as smart as my older brother, but also not as loveable as my younger brothers. I have heard countless sermons that refer to the middle child in a way that reminds me, we are never anyone’s favorite.

Lately, I am learning the importance of doing what God is calling me to do, even when I do not feel like it. I tend to cling to God in the rocky and hard places. I give praise and adoration to God when something wonderful happens and joy comes easily. Yet, when I am stuck in the middle, my prayers are short, my heart is less content, and I lack the focus that a follower of Christ should have.  I am learning that in this season of life, sometimes we have to put in the work, even when we feel like letting ourselves be lazy. We have to exercise our spiritual muscles even when we would rather watch mindless episodes of the Bachelorette.

So, I am pulling myself out of this slump. I am praying harder. I am studying God’s Word because that’s what I am called to do. I am going to remember every single day to be “Confident of this, that He who began a good work in me will carry it out until completion until the day of Christ Jesus.” Philippians 1:6.

A Still Small Voice

A nudge. 

A gut feeling.  

Something beckoning. 

A whisper deep within your soul that only you can hear. 

A still small voice. 

That is what I experienced this Sunday while sitting in church. I tried desperately to ignore it. I tried to reason with God and make excuses as to why what he was asking me to do was strange, awkward, and not appropriate. However, He didn't stop. He continued to nudge me and push me out of my seat to do the unthinkable:

Hug a complete stranger.

Gasp. NO! How unreasonable! What a complete fool you must have made of yourself reaching over to hug a total stranger. Here is how the situation unfolded...

We made plans with Josh's dad to attend Willow Creek on Sunday. Willow does a fantastic job of celebrating Father's Day with the true heart of a father in mind- a car show, and FREE HOT DOGS & RIBS. What dad wouldn't want to go to Dad Fest? We arrived early and chatted for a bit before grabbing our seats in the sanctuary. The service was delayed 15 minutes so that the early risers from the previous service could enjoy Dad Fest and those of us who struggle to make it to the 11:15 service could find a parking space. We waltzed in and to our surprise, the section we always sit in was pretty full. We managed to find a few seats in the back row and slipped into the center of the row. 

Sitting in a seat next to a stranger is always a little uncomfortable, so when we started to shuffle into the row, the woman (the one I would later be asked to hug) sitting next to me slid down to allow the always appreciated extra chair between us. We were both allowed our own arm space, as the service started. 

I always think about friends and family members on holidays, especially holidays that celebrate our parents. I pray for those without a parent because I know that those holidays have to be especially hard. Our pastor recognized that void as well in the service by asking those who were fatherless, either by death or by an estranged relationship, to stand up. He offered comforting words of encouragement and sympathy to the crowd of standing church-goers. 

That is exactly when my heart started thumping. I could feel the sweat start forming on the palms of my hands as the woman sitting next to me and her daughter rose solemnly.

I had been watching her and her daughter out of the corner of my eye the entire service. The mother held a headset tuned into the Chinese interpreter, but the daughter listened to the service in English. They shared a Chinese Bible, leading me to believe that the daughter may have learned English as her second language. All of this observation only added to my laundry list of reasons as to why I should keep my hands to myself. 

As the woman and her daughter stood to be honored among the fatherless, I felt the urge to reach over and touch her hand. I felt that feeling deep inside of my soul that beckons to you to show love and kindness to those hurting. I ignored it.

I heard the sniffles to my left. I decided that praying for the woman and her daughter would be better than reaching over and physically showing her I cared. However, I still felt that pull in my heart to physically reach out and offer her comfort. I ignored it. 

I told the voice that it would be uncomfortable for me, but mostly for her! She might not understand what I was doing, but inside I knew that a gentle touch translates as kindness in any language. I reasoned that she had moved down a chair because she didn't want to have a total stranger in her personal space but on the inside I knew that no matter what reason I gave, I was still ignoring the prompting of the Holy Spirit. 

Everyone sat down and the service was drawing to an end. I felt the Spirit's prompting again to reach over and place my hand on her hand. She was still crying. I ignored it.

The service was ending as we all rose to be dismissed. I was still trying to figure out how to sort of obey without actually having to physically obey. Our pastor was in the middle of dismissing us when he added a bit of a P.S. to his benediction by saying, "If someone around you stood because they are fatherless, please give them a hug and let them know how sorry you are for them today." It hit me like a lightning bolt. Was he talking to me? Did know the battle I was facing inside? I took a deep breath, turned to my left and touched the woman's arm. She turned to me and with open arms received a warm embrace from me. Her daughter also turned and allowed me to hug her as well. 

Relief washed over me. I had finally obeyed. I don't know that a hug from a total stranger changed her or her daughter. I seriously doubt it. However, I think it changed me. I was reminded that obedience, no matter how strange or silly it makes us feel, is what we are called to. I am more than slightly embarrassed to relive the details of that event with my readers because, to be quite frank, I would like to think that I am much more willing to follow the prompting of the Holy Spirit. In my own walk with the Lord, this event served as a huge reminder to me that no matter how uncomfortable I am feeling, I need to be ready and willing to do as God asks me.

I had a long talk with God later that evening as I thought about my actions that day. I asked for forgiveness because, even though I obeyed in the end, it should never take that long for me to listen. I want God to trust me with the big things in life and I want to be constantly ready and willing to do His will. However, in order to be trusted with the big things, I need to prove faithful in the small things. 

So, from here on out, I hug whoever God tells me to hug.

In A Flash

Yesterday morning, I was reminded how delicate and finite life really is. I logged onto Facebook, as is my morning routine, to peruse the status updates of 911 of my closest friends. I saw countless updates about a sweet friend of our family. I was a bit confused as to what the statuses were referring to, but I could tell that something tragic had happened in their family. I quickly got off of Facebook to phone my mom thinking that she might know what had happened. She hung up with me and called her dear friend (the auntie of the family) to check in and see if everything was okay. She called me back within minutes to confirm my suspicions that something devastating had happened- the sweet little two year old had been found in the Jacuzzi at a party and passed away. 

This news rocked me. It was one of those defining moments for me where the phrases so oftentimes thrown around made all too much sense, "Life is short."  Too short. That sweet little girl was snatched from earth in a moment that left everyone here asking those deep and often times unanswerable questions. Why? What is God's plan in this situation?

I am honestly not really sure how to wrap my brain around situations like this. Situations like this are earth shattering and they tend to rock us to our very core. Yet in the midst of our pain and suffering, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is in control. It is a fine balance between asking those questions and placing trust in an all knowing and all powerful God. 

I awoke this morning with the the hymn Great is Thy Faithfulness in my heart- the phrase, "Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow" has played over and over again in my mind as I think of our sweet friends and the pain they are feeling today. I think that when we remember that God pulls us through the pain of today with the hope of tomorrow, we are able to gain some perspective and our questions, although not answered, are left with a hint of hope for what God is going to do in our lives. Strength for today...bright hope for tomorrow...No matter how dark today is. No matter how much pain you are in right now- there is HOPE. 

In the midst of the pain, I am choosing to take away from this devastatingly sad situation the reminder that life is fragile and that we have to seek to live everyday to the fullest. Tomorrow is not a promise. Go for a walk with someone you love, call up an old friend, make a mends with a family member that you are fighting with. Chances are, when your life is up, you won't be sitting there wishing you kept a cleaner house, or that you did the dishes more often. Beds can be left unmade, towels unfolded. Spend time with those you love and hit the pillow at night positive that you live everyday to the fullest. It is so much more satisfactory than checking off another "To Do List" item. Life is short, so make memories. Let things go quickly so that the hardships of life don't bog you down. Be ready to go at a moments notice...

I guess that living in the moment is really a part of embracing joy, the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Dominican Republic 2010 

I Don't Make Guacamole

I do not make guacamole. I don't have some famous recipe passed down from generation to generation of Soltero homemakers. I love the delicious green paste as much as the next person, however, I have never made it...

Well, I guess one time I did. One time when my sweet father-in-law with the best of intentions tried to make me feel more "at home" by supplying the ingredients for me to whip up some delicious combination of avocado, cilantro, onion, and lime. It was disastrous, a horrible consistency of pale green mush that lacked flavor and and substance. It was runny and gross. Everyone pretended to like it, but I knew it wasn't good.  

I don't make guacamole. I don't do so, not because I am incapable, as I am sure I could Google some great recipe and run to the store for the ingredients. I could work at it unit it was perfected and proudly announce to all my guests that it I was serving my world famous "GUAC" (as my Midwestern guests would call it). But I don't. People love guacamole. Americans eat 53.3 million pounds of the stuff on Super Bowl Sunday! That is enough guacamole to coat a football field 20 feet deep. Gross. But I don't make it. 

Why? I have been asking myself that question for the last year. Maybe because people expect me to. The assumption that a Mexican homemaker who has mastered the art of beans, rice, and chile con carne should probably know how to make guacamole. But I refuse to do so, because I don't like the indication that I SHOULD do something. 

I have been battling the idea of others expectations for the past few weeks. The kick off to our summer has been overwhelmingly busy, having already shoved a wedding, two out of state graduations, a few barbeques, and house guests into the first few weeks. We are tired and our laundry could honestly revolt on us and take over our house in the next few days. We have loved every minute of it, but sometimes I wonder if we fail to say NO to something because of other's expectations of us. 

I was talking to a sweet friend on my drive home the other day. I had been thinking about her for a few days, but managed to hit the pillow every night failing to call her. I finally did so and we chatted for a bit. She confided in me with her feelings of inadequacy and wondering when life would change for her. I know that those feelings are by no means unique to her.  We all struggle with them, but the pain was very real and fresh as she reflected on her lack of relationship status in comparison to the Memorial holiday. I felt for her. I know the chagrin of being asked "if there was anyone special". Usually I would quote Miranda from Sex and the City and say that, "No, indeed there were just loads and loads of really average and not special guys".  My witty response usually deflected some of the kind, but unnecessary pitiful responses that well meaning friends would say, like "he is right around the corner" or "just when you stop looking..." as if I could ever STOP looking. But the pain was always there, just below the surface.

I wonder however, how much of our feelings of inadequacy and overall lack of luster for the place we are in life stems from letting other people define our lives. My friend is a strong independent woman. She works hard, establishing herself in a career she loves and is invested in. She changes lives on a daily basis always putting others interests above her own. She is an active member of her church and she is always there for her friends and family. Oh, and she is deliriously beautiful, on the inside and the outside. I am certainly not saying that her desire to share her life with someone special is wrong or even out of place. However, I wonder how much of what she is feeling (and me for that matter) has more to do with looking around and wanting what others have as opposed to being content with where God has her. I also wonder how much of what we do is impacted by what we view as the next step...

How often do we allow others to impact what we do and how we do it? I know that for myself, if I am truthful, it is a daily struggle. I have been asking myself a lot lately if I am pursuing something God wants for me or if my desires are shaped by others' expectations of me. I am working on letting God define me, and not others. I am constantly checking my motives. I want to be molded and shaped into a woman after God's own heart. 

So, for now, despite being given a mortar and pestle for Christmas this past year, I don't make guacamole. 

What is your guacamole?  

My God is HEALER.

Elated, ecstatic, euphoric, knock-your-socks-off-delighted, oh, and humbled. 

That is how we drove away from our three month appointment yesterday.

Let me start by saying that I have had an unexplainable peace from deep within me lately. I wake up feeling blessed, I go about my day feeling blessed, and I fall asleep thinking about how blessed I am. There is no outside source for all the warm and fuzzies. I am just feeling so thankful. 

I am thankful that for literally the first time in my relationship with Josh I am finally feeling myself. We have dealt with one painful procedure after another. We have sat in dozens of doctors offices from the time we started dating, hearing tragic news. We had one doctor try to schedule a hysterectomy for us, without batting an eye...he wanted to take away my dreams without even a thought. We made touch choices, ones that promised more pain and sorrow. Choices that were certainly not easy, but were right. We fought tooth and nail for the future of our family. 

We have endured painful conversations with friends who had the best of intentions. We have been told countless times to consider adoption. We have even been told that maybe the two of us are just not a great combination and this is, "natures way of telling us..." I have been attacked by people saying that, "Josh deserves a child." We've smiled and nodded on the outside, but on the inside we break. We lay in bed dreaming about what "normal couples" do. We tell people off in the safety and secrecy of our own home because it feels good to get it out. 

But lately? Lately we are feeling content. We are feeling blessed. We are feeling at peace. Nothing has changed...nothing, that is until yesterday at 11 AM in our specialist's office in Hoffman Estates. May 2, 2011 will always be in my heart as a day that everything changed. 

We have been praying tirelessly. We have asked our friends and family to join us in praying without ceasing. We know that we are surrounded by some amazing prayer warriors, and yesterday, the evidence of that was shining so brightly that EVERYONE could see it. 

At my appointment one month after surgery, you could still clearly see traces of left over tumors. They were big dark clouds on all my scans. We were disheartened, but our doctor encouraged us that we might still get pregnant even with the tumors inside of me. He was clear that the road ahead of us would be painful and that we would certainly need his help conceiving. We wrestled with how we would pay for something that drastic, but we tried to be patient. Be patient, and pray.

Yesterday, he ran the same tests on me that he had preformed two months ago. He was silent. He ran additional tests. Again, he was silent. He called Josh into the room. I was so anxious I wanted to vomit. He showed us all the scans side by side- 1 month scans next to 3 months scans. He said, "Your progress is far beyond what I expected. There are no traces of tumors. Go home. Get pregnant on your own. I don't want to see you until you have missed a period. This is nothing short of a miracle."

My eyes well up with tears every time I think of those words. Freedom. Freedom to be young. Freedom to be in love and to try to start a family on our own. Freedom from painful shots. Freedom from having doctors visits rule our lives. Freedom to dream of a future, a bright and cheerful future.

Prayer is a powerful tool.  Prayer opens doors. It is a game changer. 

I am ecstatic. I am filled to the brim with hope. I am full of Joy. 

MY God is HEALER. 

It was ME.

I traveled back that day, 2,000 years ago...

I saw my Savior hanging there, broken and beaten. 

His eyes were fierce and full of pain.

I looked upon the angry crowd screaming, "Crucify HIM!"

In a haze, my heart began to race. 

What had my Savior done?

I tried to climb to the top of the hill,

To scream and shout for the crowd to stop.

They must have mistaken the Precious Lamb, 

For a criminal He is not.

My feet kept slipping in the mud.

I felt anxiety grip my chest. 

I rose my arms in surrender,

Until my eyes caught a glimpse of her face.

I spun around in total shock,

Not prepared for what I would see.

For in the crowd upon that day,

Stood none other than me.

I recognized my face at once.

A look of hate with a furrowed brow,

As I began to shout,

"Kill that Man! Make Him Pay."

As if in a dream, I saw myself,

standing beside the Cross. 

I thought for a moment that I was there,

To comfort my Savior, Lord and King.

But then as if my sin took control,

I grabbed hold of a hammer and and lifted it high.

I brought it down, swift and hard, 

One time for each lie I've told.

Moments later, I heard a whip 

Coming down upon His back.

My heart went cold as I looked down,

I grasped that whip, hard and fast.

My knuckles white with rage,

I beat my Jesus with no remorse.

The hate I have for others took control,

His back began to bleed.

Again I caught myself staring at my face,

For I was the one with the crown of thorns in my hand,

Ready to shove it on His head. 

A crown for a King, 

I certainly did not bring.

The blood dripped down upon His face,

For each time I've failed to show love.

Broken and worn I wandered away,

The crowd was still hot with rage.

I sat down to collect my thoughts, 

And figure out what I had done.

The girl sitting next to me asked me my name.

I tried to avoid her stare. 

She asked me again and declared in full voice,

"Weren't you one of Jesus' friends?"

Fear, which so often grips my heart, spoke loud and clear,

"I don't know that Man, I have never met Him."

Three times I screamed,

While fleeing from the scene,

I heard a rooster crow.

And then in the garden I walked with contempt,

Towards my Savior standing there. 

I leaned in and kissed him on the cheek,

To be sure I betrayed Him still.

Isaiah 53:3-6

"He was despised and rejected by mankind, 

a man of suffering, and familiar with pain. 

Like one from whom people hide their faces 

he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

Surely he took up our pain 

and bore our suffering, 

yet we considered him punished by God, 

stricken by him, and afflicted. 

But he was pierced for our transgressions, 

he was crushed for our iniquities; 

the punishment that brought us peace was on him, 

and by his wounds we are healed. 

We all, like sheep, have gone astray, 

each of us has turned to our own way; 

and the LORD has laid on him 

the iniquity of us all.

Break My Heart For What Breaks Yours.

Broken, tired, hungry, dazed, and emotional. 

That is how I would describe my feelings as I ended my hunger fast on Thursday. We pulled up to Red Robin that evening to celebrate our victory over hunger for 5 days. Three bites into my Blue Ribbon Burger, I was stuffed.

This morning in church we were reminded of the suffering around us. Experts estimate that it would take about 30 billion dollars to solve world hunger...Americans spend more on Pizza every year. Now, I really developed a love affair with pizza since moving to Chicago, but if someone told me that if I went without pizza for one year I could solve the world hunger crisis, I would do so willingly. Sign me up!

We as Americans represent five percent of the population, however, we take up thirty percent of the resources. That fact alone sends chills up and down my body as I think of the waste in our own home. Josh and I try very hard to be wise stewards of what God has given, yet our attitude about wasted food is the type of perspective that fails to acknowledge starving children in the world.

I am also humbled when I consider my faithful "truck". I have driven the same car since college. My Nana and Tata helped me purchase my sweet little old lady go-getter my senior year in college- thank God for good grandparents! I am often times embarrassed when I pull up in my little beater and park next to a BMW or Lexus. This weekend my car had to go into the shop for some repairs so it can pass emissions (we get nervous when we are being tested...she hasn't passed yet, but it is looking better!). I must confess, every time she goes into the shop, I secretly hope that it will cost more than she is worth and I can move on to something with working windows. Then, I am reminded of the fact that owning a car is a privilege and that the elite 8% of the population that is so fortunate to own a car should just be grateful. To ninety-eight percent of the world, I am blessed beyond belief. I need to live in that mindset a little more often.

There are one hundred million homeless people in the world. One billion people do not have clean drinking water. Eight hundred sixty-two million people are affected by severe hunger. Sixteen thousand children DIE of hunger every single day. Those numbers should resonate deep within your soul. They should move you. They should change you.

As we move into Holy Week, I am reminded that Jesus came to earth to be a part of our suffering. Philippians 2 reminds us to have the same mindset as Christ Jesus. He chose to give of himself, forsaking his privilege, humbling himself as a man, and allowing himself to be killed in a humiliating and painful way.  What privileges are we willing to give up to help those in need?

We get caught up and often times swept away with the greed that surrounds us. We always want the new, the best, and the shiniest. We see what others have and we start to scheme...however, just because we are Americans does not give us the right to turn a blind eye to the suffering around us. Even in America, children go to bed hungry. Parents worry about a bare pantry. What are we going to do about it?

1 John 3:17-18
"If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person? Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with ACTION and in TRUTH.

Hunger

Today is day 3 of our Hunger Fast. I am hungry, weak, and ready for bed. 

Even though I did this fast last year, I am still blown away at how difficult it is to function off of so little food. I am in a haze as I try to move about my day. My head is aching, my body is feeling weak and deprived and I am just irritable in general. Last night started the hunger pangs in the middle of the night. Both Josh and I woke up with intense hunger but couldn't do anything about it. Yet, despite knowing that this exists for 1/2 of the world, we go about our days consuming more than enough and wasting the rest...Not okay.

I think the single most shocking factor of all of this for me is that in a few days I get to return to my normal diet. I can crack open a diet coke, eat some hummus and grab some jelly beans. I have no fear or worry that I will not get another meal. I know we will return to cooking scrumptious dinners and even following that up with some dessert. Yet, for 1/2 of the world, that is not their reality. Mothers, fathers, and children worry about what they will eat. They work hard just to literally put food on the table. They go about their day in hopes that something will be provided to soothe the aches in their bellies. This fast, no matter how difficult it is in the moment is nothing in comparison to the suffering and devastation of men, women, and children all around the world. The weakness I am feeling and the grumbling in my tummy cannot compare to the damage caused by starvation across the world. We have to do something about it.

As I described before, my head feels cloudy. Easy tasks seem daunting throughout the day. I am a 26 year old, done growing and developing. To think that children live off this minimal of a diet breaks my heart. No wonder children are under developed in third world countries. 

I have had more than one person say, "Don't you think people get used to not eating?" To that I generally reply, "As soon as they get used to not eating, they die." If you are one of those people who thinks that way, from the bottom of my heart, I beg you to take the challenge. Let God work in you to soften your heart to the hunger crisis in the world. Go without and then answer the question, "Did you get used to it?" The answer is a resounding no. 

My heart is being softened to the needs in our world. I know first hand that families in our neighborhoods are struggling to provide meals for their families. How sad that in a country this progressive and well established we still have children going to bed hungry. I challenge you to look inside your heart and take action. 

My heart is also rejoicing in the fact that God has certainly been good to me...I am ever thankful for his provision and blessings in my life. I am grateful that after 5 days of hunger, I know without any doubts that I will be blessed again.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind...

Would you say that you are someone who doesn't think about something unless it is right in front of you?

I know I certainly am. The "out of sight, out of mind" mentality is something I struggle with. I think that it is a part of our culture to really only focus on current events or what is happening in that instant. Think about how much publicity Haiti got when the earthquakes rendered them helpless. We all donated and raised supplies for people to go over there and help them get their lives back in order. Yet, how many of us today have sort of put that on the back burner and maybe not really paid attention to the fact that one of the poorest countries in the world is now even more destitute and poverty stricken than before?

The next tragedy has hit...we are all about posting prayers and sending aid to Japan, but I have to ask myself, how long until Japans devastation is no longer a thought in our minds?

Out of sight. Out of mind.

I try to be attentive- to remember a friends birthday or anniversary. But, I have to say, more often than not, I am frantic to drop a card in the mail (usually on that persons special day) because the other aspects in my life seem more pressing.

A dear friend of mine lost her mother to ALS 2 years ago this April. I will never forget the words she said to me over a burger at Fridays the week after her mother passed away. She said, "Mary Beth, my biggest fear is that over time my friends will move on and the pain will no longer be in the forefront of their minds...and the pain...even 5 years from now will still be fresh to me." Those words struck a cord in me. I want to be that friend who remembers. I want to be the person that every April 2 takes a minute to say a prayer for my friend, send her a text, email, or card. I want her to know that she is loved, but more importantly, I want her to know that she is remembered.

Every spring our church takes some time to acknowledge the poor. Celebration of Hope consists of several different aspects where we are able to take part in remembering those who are hurting. This coming week we are starting the most challenging aspect of  COH...

On Monday we are committing to 5 days of eating how one-half of the world eat everyday. Did you know that one-half of the world lives off of two dollars of food (about 3 cups of food) everyday? One cup of oatmeal for breakfast. One cup of rice and beans for lunch. One cup of rice and beans for dinner. Oh, and tap water....no coffee...no diet coke.

Josh and I took this challenge on last year. We were hungry, we were crabby, and we were weak. Yet, in the midst of our hunger pangs God worked in us to soften our hearts to the poor. We entered into the struggles of faceless brothers and sisters all over the world and our hearts were broken for them. The hunger pangs that we went to bed with every night were heart breaking and sickening. To top it all off, we both held desk jobs. Add on top of those hunger pains needing to walk 2 miles to get your well water. See, even in spite of giving up the comforts of fresh produce and COFFEE I knew without a doubt that when my five days were over I would return to a full fridge. I did not have to worry about where my next meal would come from or IF our next meal would come.

But, the suffering of the poor was much closer to my heart in those five days. I challenge you. Don't let the starving go to sleep and never wake up. Enter into their pain and do something about it.

My challenge to my readers is to take part in this 5 day challenge. Join me in eating 3 cups of food a day and drinking only tap water. Then, take your weekly grocery budget and donate it to a soup kitchen, a food bank, or a non-profit organization dedicated to feeding the hungry. Your sacrifice will change lives.

Interested in reading more? Visit Celebration of Hope.

"I was hungry. You gave me food. I was thirsty. You gave me drink. I was a stranger. You took me in. I needed clothes. You gave me clothes. I was sick. You came to visit me. I was in prison. You came to see me."
Matthew 25:35-36

Happy Tummy, Happy Heart.

There is just something about food. Food is the common ground we all have- we all must eat. We eat when we are happy. We have birthday parties with delicious grilled hamburgers and watermelon...and potato salad. We eat when we are mourning. We go to funerals with hot bubbly casseroles, rich with cheeses and cream of something, offering comfort food to those hurting. We schedule big events around meals. Big business meetings are always done over a meal because food helps establish common ground. We go on dates and eat at fine restaurants even fancier than we would normally eat at. We have great conversation over meals. Harder conversations are made easier over a warm cup of soup or a spring salad. We associate certain foods with the season. Chili is always made in winter to warm us up from the inside out. The same can be said about holidays. Thanksgiving we have turkey and stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy. On Easter, we eat ham and green bean casserole.

This past weekend Josh and I celebrated our first anniversary. Food is a huge topic of conversation for us. We both love food. We experiment all the time in our home with new recipes. We invite our friends over just to experiment on them. We wouldn't call ourselves "foodies" because no self-respecting foodie would ever admit to loving Taco Bell as much as we do.

Josh made reservations at Charlie Trotter's in Chicago for our anniversary. I was excited to go because it was something on our lists to do for the past year and a half. I knew that it was fancy, but I had no idea how much it would cost for two people to dine there. I was very hesitant when I discovered that the cost of our meal alone would be over half of our monthly mortgage payment. I told Josh that the risotto better be seasoned with gold flakes, but I let him keep the reservation.

What an experience! We were staying at the Palmer House for the weekend, which has always been on my bucket list. We took a cab from The Palmer House to Charlie Trotter's. For those four miles, I was no longer recovering from surgery, I wasn't thinking about getting pregnant, and I wasn't worried about the future of the Meyer Family. I was Josh's wife and I was madly in love. My hair looked amazing, my dress fit just right and my brand new anniversary band sparkled brilliantly on my finger.

We walked into Charlie Trotter's and were greeted by name as we were whisked away and handed personalized menus. The Chef knew my allergies and he proceeded to prepare us ten courses of pure heaven.  The servers must have been told that we were royalty or something because they treated us like a king and queen. Every course came with a fresh set of silverware and new napkin. They brought several different types of breads with each course and our wine glasses were never empty. I took bites of things I have never even heard of before and in those four hours, I think I was brought back to life.

God must have known I needed that time away with Josh. He must have known that I needed to be revived and brought back to life. He decided to use scallops, hamachi, saffron, kalamata olives, and gelatos of all different kinds to remind me that life is good, God is good, and this journey, although painful, is worth traveling. I walked away from our anniversary weekend with a new perspective. Sometimes it's okay to let the practical side be silenced and live in the moment. Sometimes an experience of a lifetime is worth it, because, in fact, it is good for the soul. Sometimes it takes a beautifully cooked scallop to bring you back to life.

Even though the next week was followed up with far too much Hamburger Helper (you still have to pay the entire mortgage apparently...) that meal brought so much Joy into my heart. I think I got my song back and I remember now Who wrote that song.

To Love...

Happy Anniversary to the man who makes my heart sing....

Two years ago this weekend I met my sweet husband...one year ago I married him. Today, I am well aware that I am the luckiest girl in the world.

To my sweet Joshua, Thank you for your kindness, thank your faithfulness to me and to our marriage. Thank you for putting my needs first, no matter what. Thank you for sticking right by my side no matter how bleak, dark, or cloudy things get. Thank you for your optimism- without your reassuring smile, I am not sure I would be the woman that I am today. You are fearless, you are godly, you are sensational.

Thank you for being my YES when the world says NO. Thank you for being may backbone when I feel like everything is collapsing around me. When I am by your side I know everything will be okay. You make me long to be better, you challenge me, you cut to the deepest part of me. You validate me and encourage me but you also strive to make me evaluate my life and you never allow me to become complacent or boring. You are my love song and I cannot wait to spend the next 60 plus years next to you!

I still have moments where I pinch myself. I have those, "I just know I will wake up single, sitting on the couch watching Sex in the City, and eating my cup of noodles" moments. I am the luckiest girl in the world. You are such a catch...

May this year be EVEN better than the last. May our love for each other and our love for God grow a little more everyday. May we feel blessed every single day. May we never take for granted the gift of marriage that God has given us...I adore you, My Sweet.

Happy Anniversary Love!
*Your Bizzle*

Desperate.

Have you ever been completely and totally desperate? Desperate is a word that we throw around a lot in our culture...we are desperate around Christmas time to find the perfect gift, to get our hands on tickets to a sold out concert or to get the baby to take a longer nap. We are desperate to find love or to get an interview for our dream jobs. But is that true desperation?

I have been toying with that word since Wednesday. I know I have used the word desperate to describe many situations through out my life. However, I guess I am not sure it was ever the right choice of words to use.

The most desperate situation that comes to mind was during my student teaching experience in college. I was leaving the school I taught at after a brutal day. I felt degraded, unappreciated, and worn down. I was already crying when I got in my car. I went to call my mom to debrief and realized I had left my cell phone on my bed. I turned my car on, drove out of the school parking lot and on to the main road. At this point the tears were really starting to pour down my cheeks but it was also starting to pour outside. It was one of those horrible spring days in Illinois where the sky isn't sure if it wants to rain or snow, so it does both simultaneously. I was stopped at an intersection when the man in the car next to me honked his horn. I rolled my window down and he pointed to my passenger side tire and said, "Your tire is VERY flat." I drove through the intersection and parked my car in an empty parking lot. I sat in my passenger seat for about 10 minutes crying even harder before I zipped up my coat, pulled on my gloves, and summoned the courage to dig in my trunk for my spare tire.

Like any good father, my dad insisted that I learn how to change a tire before I got my drivers license. I think that on a perfect day, inside our garage, using my dad's jack I could have changed that tire...but add the tears, the sleet, a tinny little jack that looked like it was made for a toy car, and directions written on the back of the wheel cover, I was rendered helpless. Cell phone-less, cold, and miserable I got on my knees (in a skirt) and attempted time and time again to use the jack. I felt helpless, foolish, alone and desperate. The longer and harder I tried, the harder it got. The harder it got, the more I cried. The more I cried, the lonelier I felt. I finally just gave up. I threw the jack down and sat on the cold and wet pavement in my skirt and cried.

Then, the sweetest man drove by. He was driving a huge truck covered with Marine Corp stickers which instantly told me I could trust him. He jumped out of his truck, introduced himself and took over. He insisted I sit in his warm truck, handed me a box of tissues and told me he was going to take care of everything. Ten minutes later, my tire was changed and he insisted on following me to the tire store.

I will never forget that story. I knew that it was God's way of saying, "I care about you...you are not alone." Yet, I know that was not the most desperate situation. I could have easily walked to the mall and called a roommate or gotten a tow truck to come. It felt desperate, but in actuality, it was far from that. It was inconvenient and poorly timed, but desperate is a stretch.

I guess along this journey that God has me on, I am learning a few things. I am learning that more often than not being joyful is way more of a choice than a natural reaction. I am learning that rarely does my being joyful have much at all to do with being happy. I am also learning that I am a prideful person.

I rarely ask for help. I have a can-do-attitude and really only feel comfortable truly asking for help from a very select few. I am not good at taking people up on offers to help, not because I don't trust them to do a good job, but mostly because I hate being seen as weak, vulnerable, or needy. That is something I am becoming more aware this year and I am really seeing it come into play as I recover from my surgery. I get stronger everyday and need less from others.

Yet, in my relationship with God, I think this attribute is hindering me. The Bible makes it clear that God is waiting for us often times to ask him. Countless stories are testaments to the fact that the Heart of God is for His people. The Spirit moves on behalf of those willing to show desperate hearts. Women like Hannah, Sarah, and Rachel show hope and faith in something that seems so unattainable. I want to pray fervently like Hannah did that God would bless my womb and that I would be able to experience the gift of motherhood.

That's where I am right now. I want to be desperate for God to move on our behalf. I want to be so unashamed to ask for God to intercede on my behalf that I literally let my pride melt away and ask with urgency knowing that it is my only option. I want to be desperate. I want to admit that in my own human body, even with the very best doctors around I am inadequate, but WITH GOD ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE. (Matthew 19:26)

I Am Alive!!!

Hello Friends! I have gotten so many phone calls, texts, facebook posts and messages, and cards. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate all the love and support and concern. I don't think I will ever have a minute to respond to everyone individually, so I wanted to thank you all at once and give you an update on how I am doing and how everything went.

Last Friday we checked in at 6 AM. The time was changed the night before from 2 PM to 6 AM and it was a huge blessing to not have to sit around the house waiting for the surgery. I had to stop eating on Wednesday so I was pretty ready for it to be over and done with come Friday! The surgery started at 7:30 AM and I was coming to around 1:30 PM. Learning from past experiences, I usually wake up from surgery pretty out of it and afraid. This was no exception and after about 5 minutes of screaming for Josh, the nurse finally went and got him and let him stay in the recovery area with me for about an hour and a half. The nurse said that my blood pressure and pulse were super high until Josh got there and then I calmed down. I just laughed when I heard that because I had asked if it would be possible to have him wake me up so I wasn't afraid and was told that under no circumstance were visitors allowed in the recovery room...unless you can scream loud enough I guess...

I was moved to a room on the PEDS floor because the hospital was so full, which of course meant that I had a roommate. The pain was pretty unbearable but they had me on a morphine pump every ten minutes and a pump with local anesthetic right to my incision.  

The doctor removed 27 tumors. I still get chills when I think about that number. We have a picture of all of them and it honestly makes my stomach turn to think that all 27 of those life sucking tumors were once inside of me! Unfortunately he was not able to remove all of the tumors because of the damage he would have to do to my body, however, he did remove the ones causing all the trouble and he thinks that after about 3 months he will be able to go back in with a much less invasive procedure and remove the smaller ones.

Sunday night I was finally able to eat my first meal. I ordered Mac-n-cheese and ate maybe two bites, but it was my first bite of food since Wednesday and it was delicious.

Monday afternoon I was cleared to go home! I was really excited...until we stepped in the door and I saw our stairs. I think it took me about 30 minutes to get all the way to the top and I vowed to never leave the house again. You never realize how much you use your abdominal muscles until they are cut open!

Once I got into my bed, our sweet kitten was so excited that I was home, he jumped RIGHT on my stomach. One phone call to my mother-in-law later, he is now on vacation with his Grandma until I feel like I can trust him again.

I did pretty well the first few days at home. I was uncomfortable but my mom and Josh made sure that very little time passed between taking my pain medicine. Unfortunately, I woke up Wednesday morning with a pretty high fever and felt miserable. My fever continued to climb until around 1:30 when Josh decided to take me back to my doctor. They checked me back in and did various tests to rule out infection. The doctor said that my white blood cell count was on the low end of normal and that because my hemoglobin levels were so low my body was going into shock. I went in the day of the surgery with a hemoglobin count of 12.2 (nearly perfect!) and came out with an 8.1. They did not want to give me a blood transfusion but decided to give me giant heaps of iron to help my body level out a bit. I felt better almost instantly and was allowed to go back home again that day.

As of today, I basically just sleep and watch my shows on TV. Reading requires too much attention and talking on the phone is exhausting! I try to get up and walk once every few hours, but my walking consists of walking from the bedroom to the couch and back. My mom had to return to Tucson, so we are attempting to make do without her. Josh has arranged for friends to stop in everyday to check on me and sit with me. I am now able to use the restroom by myself but sometimes if I lay still for too long I am not able to sit myself back up. Mentally I am very bored until I try to do something and realize that my body is tired and can't take very much. I have basically given up pain medicine unless I am really hurting or need to sleep.

So there you have it! That's sort of the gist of what is going on over here! I have had several friends ask if they can stop over or bring food- I am terrible about reading emails or texts in my sleep and not remembering to respond to them. So, if you can, please ask Josh! He knows what is going on in this house...I don't. His email address is hcyo@aol.com.

Again, thank you so much for the love and support. We feel so incredibly blessed and cared for!

It's Time!

First things first, I have never seen so much snow in my life! The drift in front of our front door is so high that we can't really open it! I will have to post pictures later, but I am really liking it! It is a little frightening to look out the window and not be able to tell where the snow ends and the sky starts, but it is beautiful and sort of majestic (as long as I can stay under my blankets on the couch!)

As some of you know, Friday I will be having my surgery. I have appreciated your prayers and kindness along the way. I would also appreciate your prayers on Friday. I will be at St. Alexius in Hoffman Estates for between 2-4 days. At that point I will be back home to recover for about 6 weeks.

Everyone keeps asking me if I am ready. I am not sure how one gets ready for such a thing, but I think I am as ready as I am going to get! The tumors have gotten a bit smaller over the past few months because of the treatment I have received but more importantly, my blood count is finally a healthy level for surgery!

Again, thank you for your prayers and hopefully I will be able blog once I am home again. I am sure I will go stir crazy in about 3 days, so blogging will be helpful!

The Poor. The Widow. The Orphan.

I have spent an entire month writing this blog in my head...and still as I write I am not sure what to say. I have gone from one extreme to the other in my thoughts and have ended up angry, sad, and frustrated. So I decided I am just going to write and see if I work anything out.

I am passionate about feeding the poor, caring for the widow and the orphan. I have spent many sleepless nights knowing that we as Christians aren't doing enough. I hate knowing that there are hungry people, worried about waking up tomorrow, walking around while we have plenty. My husband and I take pride in wasting very little in our home because we have both seen poverty first hand and we know that although the "starving children in Africa" will never see the wasted dinner that goes into the trash can, we want to show our gratitude for what God has given us.

This Christmas, we flew home to Arizona. It was a good-for-the-soul kind of visit. I needed to be recharged, to gain my bearings, in a time when I am feeling a little battered and beaten. I took full advantage of spending time with my family. My mom was asked to serve as a translator and sort of a case worker for a family that her Sunday school class had adopted and cared for over the last two years. She had sort of filled me in on the details of the family, and my heart breaks every time I recall the suffering that they face on a daily basis.

The family is large. There are eight children and a mom and a dad. They live in a small trailer park on the far south side of the city. Their story is not unique. I am pretty sure it is the same suffering that many families face in Tucson and all over the country. They are illegals. Well, some of them are. The dad appears to be a hard worker. He is willing to do whatever he can, be it legal or illegal, to provide a roof over their heads and put food on the table.

Let me first say, I by no means want to take a political stance on this situation. I am grateful for what the police and border patrol do to protect my home state. God knows the situation there is scary and near impossible. I don't have the answer. If I did, I wouldn't be writing this - I would be waving my magic wand and fixing the situation! But at the end of the day, we still have thousands of suffering human beings, and I for one cannot leave them hungry and hurting. They are people. Paperwork should never stop someone from helping those in need.

I decided to tag along Christmas Eve Day to spend a little time with my mom and to spread some Christmas cheer! I thought it would be an uplifting way to spend the morning delivering gifts and a Christmas dinner to a family who was in need. We were meeting a fellow Sunday schooler along the way. From the moment that she stepped foot in our car, I could tell that she had never seen poverty before. She filled us in on the family and all that the Sunday school class had done for them over the past two years. However, I could detect anger, hostility, and maybe a hint of prejudice in her tone.  She wanted to get them on their feet so they could "take care of themselves."

Again, don't get me wrong - I am totally for teaching and educating people so they can be self-sufficient! I have helped devastatingly poor people apply for jobs and build resumes. I have written dozens of reference letters. I have filled packages of seeds for families in Africa so they can have their own farm. I get that. It is important, critical even, to teach and disciple people so that they can one day see the light at the end of the tunnel.

However - how, in the moment, with a hungry belly and a nagging fear for the future, can we expect a family to learn for and care about next year, if they can't even see past tomorrow? We want people who barely make ends meet to think about saving so they can move out of rented space, or to 'invest' so that they can make money in the long run. When someone is hungry, they are living in the moment. When I am hungry, I have a hard time focusing on much else until that need is fulfilled, and I have never come home to an empty pantry...

The woman made the mistake of expressing her distaste and disdain for this family's handling of their finances and legal affairs to us. I think she thought we were all on the same page. She was suspicious of the family, positive that they were taking the money and gifts from the class and squandering them. The basis for her concerns has to do with a one time gift of $500 to the family to move their trailer to a different, cheaper location. The family never moved...duh. If I never had money for food or clothing for my family and someone handed me $500, I am guessing you wouldn't see me packing up to move, even if in the long run it would save me money. Again, I ask how you can expect someone who doesn't have their basic needs met to see past tomorrow, or the next meal for that matter?

I unleashed. Perhaps it was the Depro-Lupron (my shot), or perhaps it was a long time coming. I am sick and tired of Christians not living up to their potential. I am hurt that we sit there arguing about theology and philosophy, but we so often let the hungry continue in their suffering. I am angered that children in our neighborhoods go to bed hungry because we choose to live in a state of ignorance, and believe me, to that sweet child, ignorance is not bliss.

I feel like I have spent the last three years repeating the exact same thing. We, as the Body of Christ, cannot tell people about the love of God if we are not willing to show it. We cannot tell people about the Bread of Life if we are not willing to give them the bread that they need to continue living.  We cannot keep talking about a God who meets our needs if we are not willing to roll up our sleeves, get our hands dirty, and physically feed the poor, care for the widow, and clothe the orphan. It is time for us to accept the fact that 12.9 million children in America are living below the poverty line. That isn't just a number, those are children who play, sing songs, jump rope, and dream. I hope with all that is inside of me that we as believers can start given them something to dream about...

So, as we give, serve and help, please for the sake of those in need, do so with a joyful heart. I can promise you that if it came down to lying, stealing, or swindling to fill my babies bellies, I would. Give so that moms and dads don't have to make that choice!

"So let each one give as he purposes in his heart, not grudgingly or of necessity; for God loves a cheerful giver."
2 Corinthians 9:7