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And The Rest, As They Say, Is History
“Have you been outside?”
“What?”
“Outside. Have you been outside?”
“Um, no.”
“You need to go outside.”
“Uh, right now?”
“Yep. Go outside.”
I opened the front door and stood on the little porch outside my apartment. “Okay. I’m outside. Now why am I out here?”
“Because, it’s so gorgeous that I knew once you went outside you’d say, ‘I have to go on a picnic with Brian.’”
And that, my friends, in all its cheesy glory, is how it all began.
Backtracking to earlier: It was small group leaders’ retreat weekend, and I was on crutches with my knee wrapped due to a hyper-extension (my Mom always told me, “If you’re going to play volleyball like a boy, you can’t get hurt like a girl.”). I didn’t do much that weekend other than sit. And he sat with me. Playing cards, listening to talks, praying, playing his guitar. Our friend, Kimmer, watched from a distance and commented later that the sparks were flying. The Sunday morning after the retreat, he drove me to my apartment and offered to pick me up again at 10:30 to take me to church. I agreed and limped inside to shower and get ready.
Once ready, I plopped down on the couch in my quiet apartment and promptly fell asleep. I woke up to the phone ringing two hours later. Groggy, I glanced at the clock and shot up. It was 12:30… an hour and a half AFTER church was supposed to begin. Groaning, I reached for the phone to hear his voice.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Ummm, soooo, I’m sorry I didn’t pick you up.”
The wheels began spinning in my mind. In my sleepy state, I still hadn’t grasped what he was saying. Then he continued, “I took a shower and got in my bed and fell asleep. I just woke up.”
Realization dawned on me and I laughed out loud, “It’s okay. Your phone call just woke me up.”
I heard his giggle, a giggle that still makes me laugh out loud whenever I hear it today. It was then that he told me to head outside…
I don’t remember what we talked about on that first date. I don’t remember what I was wearing as I hobbled beside him. I don’t remember what I did the rest of the afternoon once he dropped me off at home.
But there are things I remember about that day. I remember the power of the retreat. The repentance that swept over our group, and the lingering sense of God’s presence over us when we returned to campus. I remember picking up KFC and heading to the lake. I remember sitting on his tattered jean jacket by the water and talking for hours, learning about each other and life. I remember throwing bits of bread to the ducks. I remember his eyes, their warmth and sparkle. I can picture his jeans, holes in the knees and his purple Crusade t-shirt with his sandals. (I certainly didn’t choose him for his fashion sense… or his mullet.) I remember calling Monica, breathless with excitement.
I remember knowing, as I did the night I had met him weeks before. Don’t ask me how, but I knew on our first date, September 10th, thirteen years ago.
Just as I still know today. He is my ONE. My ONLY.
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A Desperate Mommy
I have a strong-willed child. A very strong-willed child. He has my stubbornness and Bri’s determination all wrapped up into one package. A mixture of Italian and Irish, he is full of passion, with his die-hard relentlessness and headstrong impetuousness. Almost daily we have battles as his fiery temper flares when his independence is thwarted. And I am tired.
Last night was one such battle over something so simple that I called myself into question time and again. I know I should choose my battles, and perhaps I chose poorly, but I also know that once the battle has commenced, I need to stand firm and be consistent. I also know how irrational he becomes, and my heart ached inside as I watched him dig himself deeper and deeper into his foolish behavior. All over a bath. A bath that I ended up having to forcefully deliver.
His temper flared as he yelled at me, “YOU are a bad mommy!” Tears streamed down his cheeks as his fist clenched and unclenched.
I sighed, and took his face between my hands, “You know what? You’re right. I am a bad mommy. I can’t do this on my own. That is why I need Jesus to help me teach you. And you need Jesus to help you obey. We’re all bad at what we do without Jesus’ help.”
He stopped and looked at me, confused. I could see the wheels turning in his mind. What was he supposed to do with that answer? He pulled his face harshly away and crossed his arms, but he complied. In his room, I pulled him onto my lap, and he curled up in my arms. I held him and whispered my love for him. Then we talked about his behavior and how anger isn’t the answer. We talked about how we both need to be better communicators, and how I want to tell him “yes” more than I want to tell him “no”. We prayed together, and I let him hear me ask Jesus for help to obey as a Mommy. I tucked him in his bed and left the room. Within minutes he was in a deep sleep, and I knew that his fatigue had been a large part of his outburst.
In the kitchen I buried my face in my arms and cried. Why does this happen every time Bri is gone? Why does this happen on the days I find myself exhausted mentally and drained spiritually? I don’t know how to do this.
My heart pangs with the fleshly desire to be the perfect mom with the perfect children, rather than admitting that I am broken, weak and sinful. How do I hold him and mold him without breaking him? Dawson Trotman, founder of the Navigators, said, “Discipline imposed from the outside eventually defeats when it is not matched by desire from within.”
It is so tempting to focus on behavior, talents, discipline, education, and so often I forget that the real prize is his heart. A heart that is in a battle zone right now. And as I battle with him, I need to battle for him. There is a terrible cost at stake, because I do not want my child to be wooed by a suitor other than Jesus.
What it boils down to is the truth that I am desperate for Jesus every moment of every day. I need to see Him and know Him. I need His strength and His wisdom. I need His heart so that I may reflect that heart to my children.
When they truly see the beauty of Jesus, they will see that the jewels Satan is offering them are specks of painted glitter that blow away and offer nothing but empty sparkles.
This morning, while I was fixing breakfast, I heard his little voice lifting up…
“In the morning, when I rise,
In the morning, when I rise,
Oh, in the morning, when I rise,
Give me Jesus.Give me Jesus,
Give me Jesus,
You can have all this world,
Just give me Jesus.”Oh, that my children would offer that song every morning to their Creator. And better yet, may they offer their hearts to His beauty forever!
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With My Eyes I Have Seen Him
Life continues. And so does my list.
Not so scary faces because of the bright smiles behind them.
Meeting new people and making connections.Brokenness. Learning the freedom of daily dependence on Christ.
Cousins. Lots and lots of cousins.
Listening. Truly listening to the sounds around me. And hearing my son sing, “Give Me Jesus”. Every. Single. Word.Blowing on baby’s belly and laughing boisterously together.
Reading books to a pink bear, pink blanket in hand. When did so much pink arrive?
The beauty of worship. Melting inside as I look out and see the arms of a two-year-old lifted with his father’s.Disappointments that push me to see Christ rather than focus on self.
Hat askew on red curls.
Holding those tiny hands in the parking lot. Thankful that I have tiny hands to hold.Yummy new perfume oil.
Daddy’s helping hands.
Singing with my hubby. Sharing Jesus together. Sharing harmonies. Sharing smiles. Sharing hearts.Friendships. Holding the light for me. (Thanks, Cardo!)
Sundays. A gift of rest from our loving Creator.
Baby Jude. We actually have a doll in our home named after him. Audrey is enraptured.
Football season! (Go Cowboys!)Look, Mom, no training wheels!
“I don’t like school. I LOVE school!”Nanny & Pappy.
My little model. Gap and Eddie Bauer here we come!
God’s strength is perfected in my weakness. -
Sixty-Five Years
At the height of World War II, they married. He went off to war. She stayed home pregnant with their first child. He was wounded and captured in the war but rescued days later. And he was one of the ones who got to return home to his wife and family. Imagine how much the world has changed since then. Imagine all they’ve walked through and shared together. Imagine all they’ve seen–in 65 years!!!
My grandparents have lived and loved well! Happy Anniversary Nan & Pappy!
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Anniversaries
I write often about the one year marks… finding out I had cancer, the date of my surgery, etc. But I would be remiss to only mark the anniversaries of the hard things.
One year ago today we received the news that my cancer had not spread to any of my organs and that I had been given the all clear! By His gracious mercy, that all clear continues today.
Last year many of you celebrated with us, and I continue to be awestruck at how God has shown Himself in every detail of my life.
I wrote this one year ago:
In the beauty of His detailed hand, God has given us each of you who have walked and striven with us through the past few weeks, and I know you will continue to walk with us down the dark road of chemo and recovery. Psalm 55:18-19a says, “He will redeem my soul in peace from the battle which is against me. For they are many who strive with me. God will hear and answer them.”
God has heard. God has answered. We are so thankful for each and everyone of you. Thank you for striving with us. Rejoice now with us at the beauty of God’s detailed hand.
Won’t you join me in giving God the glory yet again? THAT can never grow old!
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Wednesday Worship: I Surrender All
Yesterday I dropped my son off for school. He ran up the steps with his friends, turned to grin and sign, “I love you”, then he was gone. He didn’t need my hand to hold or my feet to walk with him to his room. He was taking those steps of independence that I want him to take but that create a vacuous ache within me. I cried the whole way home.
When Courtney brought him home after school, my buddy walked in the door with a scrape marring his entire forehead. He had fallen off the monkey bars face first onto the ground during recess. He grinned impishly and said, “But my teacher took really good care of me.” I hugged him, sent him on his way to change into his playclothes, then sat and cried again. Someone else was caring for the boo-boos that came in his life. The hands that hold my child so tightly were unclasping yet again.
Although I have felt it poignantly this week, this whole past year of my life has been about one thing. Relinquishing life to another. Surrendering my heart, soul, being, and life to the hands that molded my jar of clay into the broken vessel that He desires I be.
I: No one else can do it for me.
Surrender: To relinquish. To yield. To give power and possession to another.
All: The whole of. The greatest possible. Everything.
Shortly before he wrote the hymn, I Surrender All, J. W. Van De Venter wrote these words: “God had hidden a song in my heart, and a touching chord He caused me to sing, songs I had never sung before.”
God has touched that same chord in my life as I have learned what worship truly is–surrendering my heart to Him daily in order that He may receive the glory. And while I am singing songs I have sung for years, I am singing them in ways I have never sung before.
Caedmon’s Call rewrote the tune to I Surrender All and added a bridge. This has been my anthem for the past few weeks as Bri and I have sung it together with friends. My favorite line? I will EVER love and trust Him.
As Simon Peter said, “To whom else should we go?”
All to Jesus, I surrender
All to Him I freely give
I will ever, love and trust Him
In His presence daily liveI surrender all,
I surrender all
all to Thee my precious Lord
I surrender allAll to Jesus, I surrender
Humbly at His feet I bow
Worldly treasures all forsaken
Take me Jesus, take me now,I surrender all,
I surrender all
all to Thee my precious Lord
I surrender allWhen I lie in anguish
On the strong attack
And I lay my burdens
On my Savior’s back
I surrender, I surrender all,All to Jesus, I surrender
Lord I give myself to Thee
Let me feel Thee, Holy Spirit
Let Your blessing fall on meI surrender all,
I surrender all
all to Thee my precious Lord
I surrender allI pray you can go to Him now and find yourself filled as you surrender your all.
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Under His Wings
When I was small, my parents would read to us each night for family devotions. I don’t remember all the details, but I remember the story of a hen. It’s an old parable handed down for years, and it has stuck with me for decades now.
It’s the story of a mother hen who lived on a farm with her chicks, and there was a brush fire that swept through the barnyard. The mother hen, knowing she could not outrun the fire, surrounded her babies with her own wings, covering them as the fire passed over. She died in that fire, but her chicks lived, safe under the protection of their mother’s love. What a picture of Christ’s love for us! A love so great that He sacrificed His own precious life for us.
This won’t come as any surprise to those of you who know me, but as a tiny girl, I cried for hours after my parents read that story. I couldn’t get over the fact that that Mamma had died for her babies.
Yesterday, I read this:
He shall cover you with His feathers,
And under His wings you shall take refuge;
His truth shall be your shield and buckler.
You shall not be afraid.
(Psalm 91:4-5)And just like when I was little, I cried. Y’all I just can’t get over it. Jesus died for me!
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I Couldn’t Have Done It Without You
Okay, so I could say that about a lot of things over this past year, but this is my huge thank you to everyone who voted for my haiku because I WON! Thank you, thank you, thank you, my friends!
I won a wonderful set of prizes at Rocks In My Dryer, and if I could, I’d share them all with you, but that would be a bit difficult.
I’ll be happy to let you look at the sweet picture I’ll carry in my keychain, and if you ever need me to carry something in my new bucket bag or backpack, I’m there for ya. Audrey will continue to dazzle you with how adorable she is, but even more so with her new girly girl hairbows. I know y’all will just love the fact that I can be even more organized and OCD with my BizziMom planner, and I can look super-cute being OCD in my Peace Love Mom t-shirt. And best of all, I’ll smell better, too! So, see, in a way, I am sharing it all with you!
Seriously, I can’t thank you enough. It means a lot that y’all would vote for me and help me win. I’m tickled pink.
Did I say thank you?
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Shouting “One Year!”
One year ago today, my journey through treatment and healing began, and tonight I lie sleepless, tossing and turning. My mind is haunted with the mixture of emotions, memories, fears, struggles, and most of all, gratefulness for how much God has provided and protected in our home. So, please forgive my random thoughts as I try to make sense of their jumbled musings…
What is your only comfort in life and in death?
That I, with body and soul, both in life and in death, am not my own, but belong to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ, who with His precious blood has fully satisfied for all my sins, and redeemed me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my Father in heaven not a hair can fall from my head; indeed, that all things must work together for my salvation. Wherefore, by His Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me heartily willing and ready from now on to live unto Him.
(Heidelberg Catechism, Question #1)
Our friend, pastor, and shepherd, Joe, read these words to me in pre-op as I clung to Bri’s hand, the reality of what was about to happen beginning to set in. Just as I clung to the hand of my husband that morning, I have clung to those words. Yellowed and bent, with dog-eared corners, the index card with those truths sits in my Bible where I can visit them every day and remember Whose I am.
As Bri and I talked tonight, I looked up into his face, searching the lines that have appeared this past year. Sharing in my pain has not been easy for him. He has loved me so unconditionally! “I need you.” I told him, “Sometimes that’s harder to say than I love you.” Then we started talking about why we needed each other… my list was endless, it seemed. “I need you to be my strength when I am weak. I need your love to fill me. I need your laugh when I cannot find mine. I need your provision so I feel safe. I need your wisdom when I am confused. I need your leadership when I don’t know the answers (and even when I do!). I need you to walk beside me, because you are the other half of my soul. My soulmate.” And I thought what a picture of Christ that is, and I realized how I loved those lines on his face more deeply than I can express.
How is it possible that it’s been a year? A year of tunnels and flea bites. Of living hope. Of losing eyebrows and finding old friends again. Of learning to worship in ways I never knew possible. Of gratitude and growth. Most of all of love. A love that deepens for my Bri and my babies every day.
It’s been a year of reminders that I am not my own. I belong to One Who loves me infinitely more than I can imagine. I love the truth of Romans 14:8. For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. That is the beauty of full assurance, of knowing I belong fully to Him, and it’s because of nothing that I have done or not done that He loves me. My debt is paid in full, satisfied by perfection in Christ.
Not a hair can fall from my head! What comfort that was to me during those first days of chemo as I ran my fingers through thick brown hair and looked down to find chunks of it covering my hands. As I bowed my head below the clippers that sent wavy locks to the floor, I bowed my will to the One Who counted each strand that fell. And I have learned to offer myself daily to Him with an open heart to the perfect plan He has for my life.
Yet as open as my heart has become, the fear still lurks. The wonder at every new pain. Is it back? Will it recur? The anxiety of needles has intensified, and already I am feeling the panic of my scheduled heart scan this Thursday. And I cling to truth. That I am redeemed from all the power the devil holds. I am redeemed from fear. I am redeemed from sin’s poison. And one day I will be fully free of the pain that clings to this body here.
One day. I don’t know when that day will be. I didn’t know if I would be here today when I entered the OR last August 27th. God has been so faithful. He holds my yesterdays, and He holds my todays. And because I know He holds tomorrow, I will live each day in freedom, each gift for each day, shouting ONE YEAR!
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First Day
Last night our little family curled together in the middle of the hallway floor. Yes, the hallway floor. (I love impromptu moments like that!) Ash leaned his long form against Brian’s shoulder while Audrey snuggled in her Daddy’s arms. Micah folded up next to me with his head in my lap, and we prayed together for Asher’s first day of school. Later, after all three were tucked under their comforters, Ash emerged.
“Daddy? Can you sing a song to me?”
Brian picked him up and swayed in the middle of our living room with him. Whispered notes we sang together, “When I am afraid I will trust in You, I will trust in You, I will trust in You…” I watched the two of them. Asher’s long arms wrapped around Brian’s neck. Brian’s closed eyes, holding a piece of forever in his arms. Tears rushed to my eyes at the sweetness, the specialness of this moment. Where did the time go?This morning we opened our quiver and let our little arrow fly.
I read these words this morning on my window calendar:
“Fear is something that comes upon us the moment we don’t believe that God is able to keep us, or all we care about, safe.”
The drive to school was quiet. Looking sharp in his school uniform, Ash was thinking, pondering the coming hours.
“Mom? Can you play my songs? So I can sing the Bible and it will calm me down?”
Turning immediately to truth when he is afraid, he knew who to go to in his fear. He knew God would keep him safe. Oh how much I have to learn from this small one!Arriving at school, he immediately saw Kelly, one of his classmates, and jumped out of the car. We walked up together with Kelly’s mom, Lindy, and her brood. Every few seconds Asher would stop and tell me to slow down and wait for Kelly. And I was again amazed by my thoughtful, little guy.
Holding my hand as we climbed the steps, he turned and looked up at me and signed, “I love you” with a smile. I squeezed his hand and fought the rush of tears, the hot flush to my face. He waved to the parents and teachers he recognized, and I marveled again and again at how grown up he seemed. How READY he seemed for this new step.
Once in his classroom, he greeted others, asked his teacher a couple questions, then settled into his desk to play with the play-doh she had set up. I hugged him good-bye, thanked his teacher, and headed to the door. Turning, I called out, “Bye, Buddy.”
Looking up, head cocked, faint grin, he reached out and signed, “I love you” again. Signing back, I walked away, then stood on the sidewalk to cry with Lindy.
I am so thankful for teachers who will love my child well, who will train his mind in the foundations which we hold so dear, who will walk alongside us to give him a wonderful education and teach him so much more than I ever could!
This past year has held so much for us all. The future holds so much more.
Then I arrived home to my two other arrows. It was a morning full of building tents, train rides on rocking chairs, marker creations and reading times. Of pitching in to make a special supper for his first day of school.“What do you want, son? Spaghetti? Pizza?”
Silence for a moment. “No, Mom. I think I’d like that turkey apple quiche you make and fruit salad, you know, with strawberries and kiwi in it, and french toast, so I can use real maple syrup.” (Whose kid does that?!)
Soon my
boymanbuddy will come home full of stories and exuberance, and I’ll be waiting.
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A Spring of Joy 