A Spring of Joy

Glimpses of our world…

  • And Yet More Theological Moments

    Yesterday morning as Joe walked us through more of the Exodus series our church is going through, he had all the firstborn males in the room stand. It was a picture of just how many Egyptians suffered under the final plague. As I watched, my Asher stood next to his daddy, also a firstborn. He then sat down and pumped his fist, “Mommy, I got to stand up in church.” he whispered excitedly. I leaned over, smiling, “Do you know why you stood up?”

    Those big ol’ brown eyes stared solemnly up at me, “I would be dead right now if I were in Egypt. When the angel passed over.”

    I whispered back, “Would you?”

    “Oh wait!” He shot his finger up in the air. “No, I wouldn’t. Daddy and you would have put blood on the doors and obeyed God.”

    I smiled, putting my arm around him and pulling him close. “Mommy?” those brown eyes gleamed brightly now. “I sure am glad for Jesus’ blood.”

    Me, too, Buddy. So very glad.

    Then there was my Bear, as I read to the kids this morning from their Bible. “Mommy, Joshua was afraid because he was the new leader. That’s a big job.”

    “Yes, Bear, a very big job!”

    “But, Mommy. God promises He’s always with us. Always. And God never breaks His promises. That makes me feel happy.”

    Oh, yes, Bear. So very happy.

    And I think this morning, Audrey Belle summed it up very nicely when she woke up, curled in my lap, and said, “Mommy, God is a wonderfully amazing God.”

    Wonderfully amazing.

    I have nothing to add.

    , ,

  • Beware The Ides Of March

    I’ve written a lot of posts about him…

    There’s this one: And In Other News…
    There’s this one: How Do I Love Thee?
    Ooooh, there’s this one: A Piece Of My Heart
    And this one: The Perfect Card For My Perfect Fit

    And none of them can sum up the amount of love in my heart.

    You’ve heard it said, “Beware the Ides of March.”

    But I like to think of it as the best day ever!

    Happy birthday to my Brian, my gift.

  • Lessons Learned From A Seven-Year-Old

    First off, can I just say how hard it is to type “seven-year-old”!? When did that happen? How did that happen? He seems so old. (And don’t even tell me, “Wait until you type “seventeen-year-old”. I’m in denial that time will continue.)

    Last night, after reading the Bible story of Balaam and his donkey, Bri and I asked the children what they could learn from this. Bella just sang something made up because, well, she’s two and that’s what she does. Bear kept scrunching up his face and saying, “I don’t know.” Buddy, on the other hand, had ALL the answers. Here are a few keepers.

    B: We should always listen to what God says.
    M & D: And how do we know what God says?
    B: It’s in our hearts. God wrote it there.
    M & D: Yes. He gave us our conscience. And how else do we know?
    B: The Holy Spirit! God gave him to us to live in our hearts.
    M & D: Yes, He did. And how do we know what God says?
    B: The Bible. That’s God’s Word.
    M & D: Very good. What else can you learn from this?
    B: Well, that some people want money more than God and that’s not good.
    M & D: Yes. God should always come first in our lives. Anything else?

    My personal favorite… it actually came first, but I had to end on it.

    B: You should always look ahead of you beFORE you beat your animal.

    Guess he won’t be making any friends with PETA, huh?

  • Satan’s Just A Mean Ol’ Thang

    The onslaught of fiery arrows has been fierce these past few days, as I have struggled through more physical, emotional and spiritual pain. I am exhausted from the daily battle against the whisperings of Satan. He’s a crafty one. Or as my sweet friend, Beth, said Sunday on the phone, “Oh, that Satan’s just a mean ol’ thang.” No one puts it quite like Beth.

    It is hard to fight those whispers. To choose to look at the good rather than the bad. Satan is always prowling about waiting for just the right time to launch his attack…

    He floods my minds with doubts of God’s love. Doubts of Brian’s love. After all, how could Bri still love me after all of this… this ugliness and brutality, this pain and suffering that have changed me in so many ways? And how could God love me and allow this to happen? Doubts of my friendships creep in. The loneliness of isolation and the lack of physical presence is hard. He loves to remind me of promises made but not kept, of people who have abandoned me in my pain, of words spoken and failure to follow through, of those who began this journey with me, but turned another path when they tired of my struggle. He wants me to focus on my sin and become discouraged. To see my failings as a mother, wife, daughter, friend. Satan longs for me to be self-consumed, because when I only see myself I cannot see my Savior.

    And so I fight. I preach truth to myself. I beg for a daily mind transformation. A mind that believes God is faithful and loves me no matter what. Eyes to see my Brian’s heart for me, that he is there for me because he loves me, not because he has to be. I remind myself of how many are praying for me, encouraging me, lifting me up… of the close friends who are faithful to visit and call and write. I remind myself of my own failings to others when my expectations of them become unreasonable. And I preach the gospel to myself daily. I am redeemed, new, forgiven and guiltless. I fix my eyes on Him, because He alone is my strength in this battle.

    When Satan brings his onslaught, it is a mighty thing. He is bringing all the power of hell against me. But as my daddy reminded me the other day, we are promised that when we submit to God and resist the devil, he will flee from us. Think about that y’all. Because of Christ, we have the power to make the devil flee! My armor is on… the full armor of God. And I stand for battle. Daily.

    Sure, there are days where I have no strength left for the fight. That is when my friends step in, and they pick up “the sword of the Spirit which is the Word of God” and place it back in my hand, reminding me of His truths. There are times when others hold my “shield of faith” for me, because my arms are too weary. And I hold on to faith, because faith will always point to God and His promises.

    There are days when my feet, shod with the Gospel of Peace, are afraid to move. But they still stand firm, because that Gospel of Peace, it promises me I have a future and a hope. My helmet of salvation? That can’t be taken away from me. Ever!

    I wear my belt of truth proudly, knowing that the truth is what frees me to fight. If I am not immersed in truth, I will fall prey to confusion and be crippled by spiritual doubt. If I do not live as a theologian and know and stand for truth, then I will fall for anything.

    I wear his righteousness. My breastplate. And that is impenetrable, because Satan cannot stand against the atoning work of Christ. When I delight in Christ alone, when I glory in His victory, it is then that Satan flees.

    And I pray. I pray for strength to put on that armor daily and fight. I pray for eyes to remain fixed on Him.

    And I praise. I praise Him for the victory I know I have, because He has already won.

    Yes, y’all, that Satan is a mean ol’ thang. He loves to divide, to whisper, to destroy, to subtly move in and work against me. But God, my God, is for me, and I fight. Even in my weariness, I know that as I bow in submission to my Father, I resist the devil, and he is running.

    And that is a sight for my mind’s eye to behold!

  • The Best Place To Be

    Yes, I am home. I am recovering thanks to pain pills, antibiotics and nausea medication, and a mom who never tires of spending days caring for her grandchildren and me. I am exhausted and in pain. But I am home.

    We still don’t know what culprit caused my infection. It could be any number of things, and it could happen again with something as simple as a hangnail or with forgetting Bella’s too heavy and picking her up with my right arm. It just doesn’t have what it needs to fight off germs or infection or trauma. It is just one more thing to add to my “new normal”…

    I had been fighting a cold for a few days and on Wednesday was suddenly stricken with a high fever, chills and aches that wouldn’t go away. Ugh. Must be the flu. Then my right arm became increasingly stiff and sore, and I assumed maybe I had pulled or strained a muscle. I checked in with soon-to-be Dr. Nat, and she gave me some suggestions on my arm pain. The next morning I woke to red, angry streaks up my arm. And Dr. Nat said, “Get thee to a doctor, my friend. That’s systemic infection.”

    Sarah met Mom and me at the doctor’s office and then took me to the hospital once he pronounced my sentence of outpatient IV antibiotics for a skin infection. At the IV treatment center, the nurses were wonderful, Sarah was wonderful, but my port was not so wonderful. Thankfully, it only took two tries to access it and I was undergoing treatment, sitting with Sarah watching American Idol. During that time, the redness continued to spread. A hurried phone call to the doctor, and the sentence increased to a hospital stay overnight. (Unfortunately, the hospital’s timing was off and Sarah and I missed the last 10 minutes of American Idol. I didn’t even get to see Tatiana’s dramatics!)

    I was given a shared room on the cancer floor with a dear little old lady who spluttered, snored and talked in her sleep, so all I have to say is “Thank goodness for Ambien!” She was moved to another hospital the next day, and I remained the sole patient in my large, sea-foam green room.

    After seeing a specialist on Friday, my sentence was lengthened to many doses of antibiotics and several days instead of one. It was long. It was hard. Sunday morning was the worst for me, as I sat in my cold, sterile environment thinking of everyone else worshipping together. It was an unbearable ache of loneliness.

    And my children. I constantly thought of my children.

    Saturday, Ash curled up next to me on my hospital bed, long lashes wet with tears, “I think about you all the time, Mommy,” he whispered. I watched Bella spinning circles in the middle of the room with Bear. She stopped, noticing our tenderness. “I’m so sorry about your sick, Mommy.” she said, head cocked, soft grin.

    “I’m sorry, too, babies. I’m so, so sorry.”

    The ache continues, both physically and emotionally. My heart is aching more than my arm tonight, and that means a LOT of pain. The hardest struggle to face isn’t “why me?“, it’s “why them?” I believe God is for me, for us. I truly believe that with all my heart. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have questions. I know He has a perfect plan for me, for us. I just want to see how this can be good for them. Bella has been struggling ever since I returned from isolation for thyroid treatment. She never wants me to go away, yet here I was torn away from her again. How are they to grasp it all? To understand when i don’t even understand myself?

    Once again I am faced with opening my hands and letting them go. It isn’t easy. I want to clutch them to me and tell Him to stop, to pick on someone His own size, to give them a break. But ultimately, I will do what I have done every day of this horrible journey. I will take the next step in faith and I will relinquish my grip. I will say, “I believe,” even when I don’t feel it, and I will move forward with my babies, knowing that I am entrusting them (and me) to the hands that hold the universe.

    It is the best place to be.

    I believe. Lord, help my unbelief.

    ,

  • Spring Is A Promise

    Spring is a promise
    in the closed fist
    of a long winter. All
    we have is a raw
    slant of light at a low
    angle…

    These are the first few sentences of Luci Shaw’s poem, Spring Is A Promise. Monica begins her post with Luci’s beautiful words and then she writes the struggle of her heart and mine in her words that follow. In my heart and body weariness, I will let her words speak for me today.

    Is spring really coming?

    ,

  • The Grand Exit

    I imagine we were quite the sight to behold as we made our grand exit from the hospital. I rode like a queen in my wheelchair with my mad scientist hair and too short fleece pants, clutching my gorgeous roses from Monica, my face still splotchy from my sobfest on the phone this morning with Beth. Bella proudly pushed the wheelchair, sharing the handles with the sweet aide who’d spent hours over the past three days in my room chatting with me, her red curls bearing the windblown look of chaos.

    Bear led the way, a few steps behind Daddy who ran ahead to get the car and escort us home. He tossed a casual look back every now and then to be sure we were following, “I know the way to the elevator, Mom.” he called, green eyes sparkling proudly, tripping over too small sandals and increasing the size of the hole in his pants. (Can you tell it’s time to update the wardrobe again?) My Buddy walked beside me, as always, my sensitive one, hand on my arm, my protector. I could hear the soft vroom-vroom of his corduroy pants with each step. If he could smile any wider, his face would have broken. We moved slowly down the halls, at a Bella pace, and faces lit up everywhere.

    Yes, I imagine it was a sight to behold. I think it was a beautiful one.

  • As of Friday night…

    I left Angie a little while ago, tucked away in another hospital bed… word is that she’s likely going to be there for another day or two. It’s good to know she’s being cared for, but very hard on all of us to have her away again. Today a specialist came to take a look and seemed pleased with her progress so far, and blood work showed that the infection hasn’t spread to her bloodstream. That’s very good! She is in pain and feels pretty rotten, and didn’t get much sleep last night. Today they moved her roommate though, so hopefully she’ll be able to rest tonight.

    Overall she’s not in great spirits. It’s very hard to deal with this so close on the heels of her radioactive iodine treatment. Again she’s alone and sick; again we’ve had to delay getting back to a ‘normal’ routine. The kids are dealing with it pretty well, but they miss her a lot. All of them have verbalized it, and all of them are a little out of sorts. We are praying that Mommy will come home tomorrow so we can take care of her!

  • Oh Where Have You Been?

    I’ve had several of you mention how little I’ve been on lately… so here’s the scoop. The very short version.

    Spent two days in bed.
    Thought I had the flu. High fever. Aches.
    My arm began to get red streaks all over it (this would be the arm from which lymph nodes were removed during my surgery)
    Saw doctor.
    Am in hospital.

    I have a skin infection in that arm that can’t clear up on it’s own because there is no lymphatic system to fight the infection. I am running a high fever, taking IV antibiotics and should hopefully go home Saturday or Sunday.

    So that’s where I’ve been.

    How I’ve been, you ask?

    Discouraged is an understatement. Doesn’t help that my Audrey cried when I talked to her last night because she doesn’t “yant me to be sick.”

    Am breathing deep and begging for God glimpses each moment. Sweet Sarah sat with me last night until Bri could get home from DC and she squeezed my hand and said, “We believe His plans are perfect, but it’s okay not to understand.” I am believing… clinging to truth. I have nothing else to cling to.

    We’ll keep y’all updated.

  • Who Made You?

    I’ve been trying to teach Bella different Scriptures, verses, truths, etc. each day as I sit with her and rock her before naps and bedtimes. Today, after a lengthy discussion of “Who made you?“, we sat in silence for a few minutes. Suddenly she pulled her thumb from her mouth, pushed away from me and held my face between her two tiny hands.

    “Mommy. I made God for you in my mind. I gave him his head and den his yegs and den his arms and den his eyes and den his nose and den his yips, so he could smile at you.”

    Yep. The sweetness overwhelms.