Paths

Every year, at least once a year, David and I take a little trip away just for the two of us.  Last year it was Cancun, this year since it's averaging 157 degrees in Dallas, we came to Vail, CO.  As I write this, I am wearing long sleeves and looking at the most beautiful view of the mountains. And I'm not gloating at all.

Here is the thing about Coloradans (is that how you say that?) - they don't sit still.  I knew this would not be the kind of vacation where you lay around getting a tan, sipping umbrella-clad colorful drinks.  Even knowing that, I was still not adequately prepared.  We arrived on Sunday and spent a big part of the afternoon strolling through the village, shopping at little stores.  Now that kind of walk, I can handle!  Yesterday, we stepped it up a notch and went zip-lining.  Traveling thousands of feet above a ravine at 30 mph attached to a zip line only by a harness and pulley was exciting but not overly taxing.  Feeling good about ourselves, we decided that today would be the day we went for it.  Today, we would be real outdoor adventurers.  We'd go hiking.  Now I know what you're thinking.  Regina?  Hiking?  If I'm totally honest, I was thinking that myself but this is something I really wanted to do.  I wanted to be able to say I'd done it Friends of ours had just gone hiking with their 3-year-old. I can't get shown up by a toddler.

So a little after 9am, David and I loaded up a bag with Gatorade and water and headed for the trail.  At first the name of the trail was cute - Berry Picker.  I figured we'd see pretty flowers and berries to take pictures of.  By about halfway, I was daring someone to say something cute.  I may have even loudly declared, "I'll show you what you can pick, Berry."  You see, my friends, we did not choose to do the leisurely stroll around the base of the mountain.  No, the two kids from the flat plains of Texas decided it would be a great idea to take the intermediate climbing path that ends over 4.5 miles at the top of the mountain.  For over 2 hours, we hiked, stopped to catch our breath, and hiked some more.  I literally thought I might die a few times and wondered how long it would take someone to come find us.  But alas, the sharp drop-offs and thin air didn't win.  Just after 11am, we made it.  

As we sat down for a snack at "The Eagle's Nest," I started reflecting on our journey.  There were times that the path we walked was clearly marked with signs and arrows.  There were other times when we had to trust that we were on the right track even though it felt like we were walking in the wrong direction.  Some parts of the path were so narrow and curvy that there was barely room to get through.  Surrounded by trees that seemed to touch the clouds, it was dark and cold.  We couldn't see what came next, and it took all our energy to climb the steep slopes without falling backwards or losing footing.  But then we’d come to an opening and step out into the sunshine.  We would find a part of the trail where the path was obvious and the views were spectacular.  In the end, we could see how each part of the journey was necessary.  The wooded areas kept us from walking unprotected in the hot sun.  The open sections gave us perspective to see how far we’d come and what was ahead when we reached our goal.

And when we reached the top, what they say is true – all the pain and panting was worth the experience of standing at the top.  Much in life is the same. Whether it’s marriage, career, raising kids or our faith, they can all be compared to that trail on the side of the mountain.  There are curvy, steep places where you can’t see the point and think you can’t go on.  And there are open places where God gives you the gift of perspective.  In the end, each part of the journey is necessary.  And in the end, if you don’t give up, all the pain and panting is worth it.

After reflecting on the journey, we headed to receive our reward - a free gondola ride down.  But did we receive that wonderful gift?  Did the overzealous kids from the plains of Texas ride down?  Of course not.  We figured going down had to be easier than going up, so we hiked back down. While I'm enjoying the beautiful weather this morning, I'm also experiencing pain in my knees like I've never felt before. 

The take away from today’s activity is this – life is like a path, so keep walking even when it hurts. And going down is not easier – while it’s faster, the momentum and height makes it even more dangerous than going up. So keep climbing. You'll make it.

REAL Therapy

As greatly therapeutic as writing is for me, it, like every other attempt at self-help, can only go so far.  There is only one place that could give me peace that goes beyond my expectation and true joy in place of sadness.  After posting last night, I journaled my heart out to God.  So often I forget, but prayer is less about me talking and more about LISTENING.  After laying all my sadness down, I wrote the words that God spoke to my heart.  I would normally never share with anyone what God and I discuss.  The pages of my journal are sacred and holy ground just for us.  But this, I would like to share.  These are the words in red staring back at me...

I am here, baby girl, and I hear you.  You are not alone.  I understand your sadness but there is hope in knowing all things have a purpose.  I have a plan to prosper you and to give you a future.  Trust me beyond the hurt.  Put your faith in Me - what you can't see - rather than putting faith in what you see before you.

I don't know who needs to read these words with me, but write them on your heart.  This is how much God loves you.  I have talked to my sister most of the day.  If not with our mouths, with our hearts.  I still miss her so bad it hurts.  I still feel a little more lonely.  God never said He'd take away the pain.  He said He loves me enough to hold my hand and pick me up.  He said there is hope after the sadness.

I said last night that therapy makes the heavy things a little easier to bear but after writing, it didn't feel any lighter.  These words from my Father make it lighter.  That's REAL therapy.

Therapy

The first question my therapist asks as we sit down to meet is, "So...what brings you here today?"  Writing is therapeutic for me.  If you haven't noticed, I tend to say what's on my mind, and sometimes, just doing that makes the heavy stuff a little easier to bear.  So this is what brings me here today...

My sister is moving.  The person I share most with in the world won't be a quick phone call away.  The only kids except my own to poop and throw up on me won't be within driving distance.  My confidante, my partner-in-crime, my encourager...will be halfway through tomorrow when I wake up each day.  I'm not an emotionally "showy" person.  When I must cry, I prefer to do it in David's lap when no one else can see my mascara run.  Today, though, I think the moms at the indoor play area may have caught a glimpse of runny black-brown Cover Girl.  There was nothing sad about kids running and playing except that Brynna was doing it without Zoe and AJ.  All day, those tears were just hovering right about my cheekbones.  I worked so hard to keep them down but at this point, at 7pm the day before she gets on a plane, I'm losing the battle.

First things first, yes, I said sister.  I know many who read my blog are wondering what happened to my little brother that he became my little sister, but rest assured.  Ryan is still very much himself, and although he's a grown man, I'll still always call him my little brother.  But 12 years ago, I added another "little" when Vikki was grafted in to our family.  The specifics now seem so unimportant.  We met in college and through a series of events that brought both misery and blessing, Vikki became a permanent fixture at our house.  When she got married, she asked my dad to walk her down the aisle.  When Zoe was born, my mom flew to Denver to be by her side, holding her hand.  Two years later, Mama stood by my bed in Dallas on a Thursday then flew to Houston to hold Vikki's again the next Saturday.  We call Brynna Grace and Nicolas AJ the "not-so-twins".  I've heard people say that tragedy can make or break you.  In December of 2008, we found out that in this family, regardless of how you got here, we will face the storm together and let God use it to make us stronger.  Zoe was taken to the hospital on the evening of the 19th where they discovered a tumor on her spine.  She went in for emergency surgery at 11pm, and my parents were in Houston at 9am.  It never occurred to any of us to treat each other differently because we weren't "blood".  (I still say that's in question, though.  Vikki has more of our mom's mannerisms than I do.  I say there was a hospital mix-up.)

I often feel I have to give a long explanation (as I just did) so people understand just how much a part of me Vikki is.  I feel obligated to explain our relationship so they can understand.  But really, it doesn't matter who understands.  What matters is that the landscape of my life looks different because Vikki is part of it.  What matters is that Thursday will feel totally different than today because she'll be halfway around the world.  What matters is that I'll have to learn to function with a piece of my heart in another time zone.

I have explained to her and Her David (yes, our husbands have the same name) that you can be sad and excited all at once.  I'm excited for their new Malaysian adventure.  I'm happy they will get to be nearer to his family than they've ever been.  I can't wait to visit a new place on the other side of the ocean.  I am so proud of the way Vikki has grown in her faith as she's handed this process over to God.  But in the midst of all that joy and as therapeutic as writing is for me...at the moment, I don't really feel any lighter.  At the moment, I just feel sad.

Be Kind...Rewind

Have you ever had one of those days (or weeks) that you wish you could just hit "rewind" and start over?  I had a day like that yesterday...

To understand yesterday, you need a little background.  In June, our A/C was on the verge of going out. We learned it was because our house actually needs two units, so we had a second until installed.  Last week, the older unit began making sounds that could rival a freight train and by Sunday it was so loud, it woke David and I from a sound sleep multiple times.  We couldn't risk another sleepless night, so we moved our family of 4 to the dining room.  David and I slept on the sofa, Brynna slept in a pack-n-play in the bathroom and Miles slept on his doggy bed next to me.

So Monday began on the sofa.  I woke to what sounded like my kid crying in the bathroom, only to shake the cobwebs and realize my kid was, in fact, in the bathroom.  I'd cry, too, if I woke up staring at a commode instead of my pretty green bedroom walls.  A nice A/C repairman came to look at our problem and after much discussion, it was determined we have to replace the older unit.  (Awesome, right?  If you attend the FC Downtown Nearly Wed Seminar this fall, get ready for a lecture on the importance of an emergency fund...or two!)  The work was set to begin the next day, but in the meantime, the motor was broken and had been removed.  Bottom line - no A/C in two-thirds of the house.

BG and I ran errands in the afternoon, choosing only locations with fully-functioning air-conditioning and came home around 4pm.  We headed to the pool since it's 153-degrees in Dallas and really, there isn't much else to do.  While she swam, I watered the plants in our backyard.  At one point, she got very still at the end of the pool opposite where I was.  Both of these things concern me.  1) She usually swims the perimeter of the pool, staying close to where I am.  2) Brynna is rarely, if ever, still.  I went to investigate, and Oh, how I wish I hadn't.  Surrounding her in the water, was a brown cloud and small floaters popping out of her swim diaper.  Yes, you made the leap.  She actually did that.  I spent the next 15 minutes, stripping her down, hosing her off and trying to find a happy place in my mind.  As I took the trash out to the alley, I was met by 5 electric trucks and a man who informed me that there was a problem with a nearby transformer.  What that meant for me was that 45 minutes later, half-way through bath time, the power went out.  

Because we only had one unit working, the house got very warm very quickly.  I hurriedly rinsed off my moving target, packed a bag and headed to a friend's house to wait out the outage.  Well, I headed to the garage, where upon entering, I realized AUTOMATIC GARAGE DOORS REQUIRE ELECTRICITY!  It was pitch black, I was hot, Brynna was crying, it was the longest day in history...I was not about to try and find the manual release and hoist the door up, so I grabbed the wagon and dog leash and walked the block to the Batista's house.  When we got home at 11pm...we went straight to sleep...on the sofa.

So here's the timeline...

A/C is loud

Sleep on the sofa

Wake up to Brynna crying in the bathroom

A/C unit must be replaced

No air in most of the house

BG poops in the pool

Learn power will be out for hours

Garage door won't open

Walk in the heat

Spend the evening somewhere other than home (which was all I wanted)

Spend the night on the sofa...again

And here's my version of a rewind...

Since my A/C was loud, we got it looked at before something major went wrong and did more damage.

The sofa I was trying to sell on Craigslist is the size of a twin bed, so because it hasn't yet sold, we had somewhere other than the floor to sleep.

Brynna slept all night in a room (that happens to be a bathroom) that is fully air-conditioned, windowless, therefore dark, and the perfect size to fit a pack-n-play.

While it wasn't our immediate plan for the money we saved, God has blessed us with the resources to pay for this unexpected expense.

Because we had the second unit installed in June, we were not completely without air.  

There is a beautiful pool in our backyard that Brynna can poop in, and I am able and available to clean it.

I was fortunate to have warning the power would go out; I was able to throw together Plan B.

There is a door on my garage, which houses my fully-functioning car and is attached to the roof over my head.  

While our walk may have been hot, but it was 7pm-hot not 3pm-sweltering, and Miles and BG love a walk for any reason.

God has blessed us with friends, good friends, who at a moment's notice allowed us to spend the evening with them and even set up a bed so Brynna could get to sleep on time.

The power came back on, half the house was cool, Brynna never woke up although transported back home, and my hubby and I got to snuggle a little closer...on the sofa...again.

open hands

From the second Brynna entered the world, I had to let her go.  Ten minutes before she was born, they said she wasn't breathing well and it was necessary to get her out immediately.  I had to let go of that vision I had of holding her and staring at the beautiful person God had created.  I had to let go of what it's "supposed to look like."  I had to open my hands and let her go.

In December of 2008, I watched my sister and her husband as they had to let go.  When Zoe was diagnosed with cancer all they wanted to do was hold tight.  They couldn't fathom starting this process of chemo and radiation that would strip Zoe of her hair and what health she had to make her feel worse, all in hopes of making her feel better.  But little by little, they did.  They let go of the myth that they were in charge.  They let go of knowing what tomorrow would look like.

I have friends who have just started this journey of daily thinking your baby belongs to you, only to be reminded you have to open your hands and let it all go.  Jason and Katie have let go of fear and false pre-tenses.  They have let go of assurance and stability.  They are standing on completely shaking ground, holding tight to their Only Hope and letting go.

Two weeks ago, I laid my eyes on and touched this beautiful baby girl we weren't yet expecting to see.  Brandy is my best friend in the entire world and I wanted all the best for her.  I prayed she would have an easy pregnancy and easy delivery.  I prayed she would experience all those first moments I missed.  But God wanted more.  He wanted her to learn to let go.  She was due to have a baby in October; instead, she had a baby in July.  And before she was supposed to, she had to let her go.  Brandy's having to let go of the anger that Hannah is supposed to be safe and secure inside of her.  She's letting go of her 'whys'.

My point is not to make a laundry list of kids who have faced things before their time.  These trials were part of their time.  My point is that it was also part of our time as their parents.  My heart is heavy for Jason and Katie, for Brandy and Quarter.  I have sat in these hospital rooms, laid in the bed next to a hurting baby, sure you are going to wake up at any minute and find it was a bad dream.  But as much as I would like to make it all go away and feel better, I know deep down, that's not what's best.  I learned the day Brynna was born that she is not mine.  I am not the parent I would be had her birth been"normal," and I don't want to be.  I pray I never look at Brynna and forget what it felt like to leave her in the NICU and walk away.  I pray I discipline, teach, love and guide her always remembering that she is not mine.  God has allowed me the honor of being her mom today.  But she belongs to Him.  Zeb belongs to Him.  Hannah belongs to Him.  And thankfully, we, their parents, belong to Him, too.