Tag: children

Lent 2023: Living Like Jesus Already Knows My Heart

I did not grow up in an ultra-religious family although we were most definitely Christian.

So unlike some of my friends, I didn’t have a bunch of rules surrounding lifestyle choices that are not explicitly addressed in Scripture (i.e. length of dresses, makeup/no makeup, movies, music, etc.). But one thing was definitely impressed on me: You didn’t take the name of the Lord in vain-not even with “softer” stand-ins like “dad gum it”.

By the time I had kids, I had done considerable Scripture study and managed to draw up a list of “do’s and don’ts” that might put the most strict holiness traditions to shame.

Read the rest here: Lenten Reflections: Living Like Jesus Already Knows My Heart

Update: Covid, Life, Etc.

Let me just say up front I don’t believe in luck or karma or anything like that.

I believe in a Sovereign God who can (at any moment) intervene and sometimes does but who, in general, allows humans to make free will choices and lets the world run according to natural laws He set in motion at the beginning.

That said, I do have a kind of superstitious personal habit of refusing to speak aloud any hope one week, month or year might be “easy” or “good”. Because for decades our days, weeks, months and years have snowballed into a chaotic blur combining lovely moments (birth of grandchildren and a few others) with stress-filled and often life-changing events barely leaving time to catch our breath before the next one comes barreling down the pike.

So when, in late January, I declared February a “month at home” and a “month of rest” I knew better.

I’ve shared earlier that I was diagnosed with Covid Sunday, January 29th. Truly, I have not felt worse within recent memory but am so, so thankful for vaccinations (which did not prevent me from getting it but definitely impacted the severity!) and modern medicine. Both of these meant my extremely exhausted body (just came off nearly three weeks tending my two grandboys plus a week long trip to my dad’s) and immunocompromised state did not end up in the hospital or with awful complications.

My whole family ultimately succumbed to the nasty bug-including my 87 year old dad (who was the first soldier down).

What I haven’t shared is that last Thursday evening I got a call from Papa who was in his local Emergency Room, alone and fitted out for what they thought would be emergency surgery for a non-Covid related situation.

Still talking to him, I rise from my comfy post-supper chair in front of the TV and start tossing clothes in my suitcase (only partially unpacked because, well, Covid) because I’m coming!!!

Calls go out to kids, my husband agrees to stay home and tend animals and we are off within forty-five minutes of the call.

Thankfully, after careful reexamination of imaging, observation of vital signs and a surgeon willing to let Papa decide to take a risk waiting until morning while remaining hospitalized and on IV antibiotics, we avoided emergency surgery.

Fiona, Julian and I arrived Thursday night and got a few hours sleep before showing up early Friday to reassess the situation and help Papa figure out a plan going forward.

He was able to come home with us-weak, tired and on medication-with serious admonitions to take it easy for a few days.

I cannot adequately express the love, gratitude and sheer pride I have for my kids and their willingness to drop everything and come running. They’ve gained this knowledge at a terrible price. I could not have navigated this last, frightening incident without their help and wisdom.

I’m deeply grateful it turned out to be a tiny blip instead of a giant health crisis.

I’m overwhelmed by the outpouring of prayer and concern from folks near and far.

If you are so inclined, pray for a teeny, tiny break for me and my family. We are really kind of worn out.

I’m looking forward (shhhh!!!) to a quieter latter half of February.

Stay tuned for some new posts I’ve been working on and for another trip through Lent together coming soon. ❤

To My Living Children, An Open Letter

I shared this for the first time six years ago.

Before my mother’s illness and death, before the frighteningly early arrival of our little Captain and his brother, before an overseas deployment, a destructive hurricane, Covid19, my husband’s cancer diagnosis and too many other stressful events to list.

I have watched my kids meet every challenge-sometimes with grace, sometimes with grit, sometimes with both.

They are different people than they would have been if Dominic still walked beside us. They know things their peers can’t even guess.

We all lost so much when we lost Dom. But we still have each other.

And that’s a treasure.

❤

I never thought it possible to love you more than I already did.

But I do.

Your brother’s untimely departure has opened my heart in a whole new way to the glory that is your presence.  It has made me drink you in like water in the desert.

Read the rest here: A Letter To My Living Children*

*I am absolutely convinced that Dominic is very much ALIVE today in the presence of Jesus.  But for now, I’m denied his daily companionship.

Best Christmas Gift EVER

I’ve had plenty of beautiful Christmases.

I’ve had more than a decade of more somber ones.

But when our pastor recently asked, “What was the best Christmas gift you ever received?” I didn’t have to think hard at all.

It was my daughter, Fiona.

She wasn’t born ON Christmas but a week before-today is her birthday-and I was oh, so glad to finally hold that tiny bundle in my arms instead of in my belly.

My first successful pregnancy (I’d miscarried a year before) was a long, hard and difficult one. I never achieved that “glow” so many women enjoy while hormones guaranteeing baby’s health and safety surged through my system.

Instead I was desperately ill for the first four months as I wrapped up my college degree. (In hindsight, taking biology at six in the morning was a bad choice.) I spent many of those days in close communion with the toilet or a bowl when I couldn’t muster the energy to get to the bathroom.

I had a few short golden weeks before my body revolted once again and I developed a serious case of preeclampsia. Now my doctor visits were weekly and included fetal monitoring.

Back then there were few interventions for this condition so it was wait and see, wait and see all the while I counted days and weeks until I could reach the magic “thirty-four week” mark of likely viability.

Thankfully, we made it!

But then that little Miss decided to assert her personality and refuse to make an entrance.

So…finally…I was scheduled to deliver ten full days after her due date of December 8th.

It was a long day of pitocin, contractions, no progress and a swift trip to the OR for what ended up being an emergency C-section. Drama all the way!

She was here, safe and sound, in my arms at last.

There are lots of things I don’t remember in detail about that day or even the week that followed but I remember this: I knew in my bones that life would never be the same. This precious child made me a mama and my heart would forever be wrapped around hers.

I’m so very thankful I had the blessing of three more little ones after that.

I’m grateful for the lives they’ve lived and the ones they are living now.

I miss my third-born, Dominic. His birth story is woven just as firmly into the fabric of my being as Fiona’s and that of her other brothers.

I can’t pick out his threads without unraveling the whole cloth.

And I don’t want to.

I celebrate today the gift of motherhood and the gift of children.

Even when one of them leaves too soon.

Love is always costly, but love is always worth the price.

Birthdays Can Be…A Little Complicated

Today is my birthday.

And while I am truly grateful for another trip around the sun, since Dominic left us it’s not a simple celebration of life lived and the hope of years to come.

The last birthday I had with an unbroken family circle was a lovely surprise party for my fiftieth held in Dom’s apartment.

Nine years later and it seems a lifetime ago.

Read the rest here: Birthdays Are…Complicated

Thank You For Your Service

I am the proud daughter of a military veteran.

I am the beaming mother of a son who served and the aunt of a nephew currently serving. 

james at pikes peak

And while others argue about why and where we send troops and fight wars, I  pray that wherever they go and whatever they do, they return home safely.

Read the rest here: The Value of Veterans

Fear of What You Know Is Impossible to Ignore (Lightning DOES Strike Twice!)

I was reminded today how close fear sits to the door of my heart and to the door of the hearts of many bereaved parents.

Once again a mom shared an experience of not being able to get in touch with a surviving child and how that quickly spiraled downward to a frenzy of fear.

To some it may seem like an overreaction. But to those of us for whom the one thing you think won’t happen, HAS happened, it made perfect sense.

Read the rest here: If It Happened Once, It Could Happen Again

So Close And Yet So Far

I’m not usually a person who sits frozen when something unexpected or even something awful happens.

But the events in Uvalde, Texas have paralyzed me.

So many parents, grandparents and siblings thrust into the horror of loss and sorrow in a mere forty-five minutes! How does a heart process that when it knows exactly the long, awful road those families are just beginning to tread?

This isn’t about me, though, it’s about them.

It’s about the dozens and hundreds of people whose lives are touched by the tragic deaths of children and teachers who woke up that morning thinking the school year was winding to a close and looking forward to a summer of freedom.

Instead those families have been circled by chains of grief and will spend the next months and YEARS trying to figure out how to live when their worldview and hearts have been shattered.

I can identify with that.

Dominic was killed weeks shy of his twenty-fourth birthday and an even shorter time shy of finishing his second year of law school.

It was supposed to be downhill from there.

It was three days short of the end of the school year for those precious souls trapped by an evil young man in a classroom with no where to go but Heaven depending on where he pointed his weapon.

How does a parent process that?

How does a mama or daddy keep from lamenting how very close his or her child was to escaping this awful end? How does anyone not count the days and hours and moments that might have meant the difference between life and death?

For those whose hearts have been spared-I am so, so thankful.

For those of us who KNOW- I am so, so sorry.

You have probably also been paralyzed and horrified. You know the long, torturous path stretching before these parents. You know that there are no shortcuts, no detours, no magic to make it less painful.

Your breath has come in gasps interwoven with prayers for grace and strength.

You’ve avoided blaring newscasts and only checked intermittently for updates.

You may have cried, like me, in the shower or in a corner because the idea of another parent joining this “club” always makes you sad.

It’s especially difficult knowing that the end of the school year was so. very. close. The opportunity to do that kind of damage was nearly out of his reach.

And yet.

Here we are.

Again.

Patience Appreciated!

I wrote this a few years ago in response to post after post across social media of (mostly!) moms lamenting the fact their son or daughter would soon be moving away or off to college. 

I get it!  

When you are used to having your kid around it’s tough when he or she leaves the nest.  

But there is a vast difference in having to work a little harder to stay in contact or arrange visits and never being able to speak to your child again. 

It’s an adjustment to compare calendars to find a day your family can celebrate together but it’s heartbreaking to know that one chair will always be empty at every family gathering.  

Read the rest here:  Please Be Patient With Me

I Want To Live Unafraid

I had never been afraid of speaking in public.

I had never been afraid of strangers.

I had never been afraid of heights.

UNTIL.

Until I had children and then I was afraid of nearly EVERYTHING for them.

I didn’t want any harm to befall these tiny humans carrying my heart outside my body.  I wanted to protect them, to cushion them, to wrap them in a bubble so that nothing bad ever happened to them.

As they grew, I learned to let go- a little at a time.  I learned you can’t prevent the scrapes and bruises and heartaches and disappointments of life.  And I learned that a little “harm” made them stronger.

I forgot most of my fears and was again unafraid.

UNTIL Dominic was killed.

Read the rest here: Unafraid