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
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Saturday, March 26, 2011
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.
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.
Friday, March 18, 2011
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*
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*
Friday, February 25, 2011
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 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)
Monday, February 14, 2011
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!
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!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
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!
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!
Thursday, January 13, 2011
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)