Turn Back to Praise

There's a story in the Bible about 10 men who were healed. They all had leprosy. They all cried out for Jesus to have pity on them. They all walked away clean. Only one turned back to say thank you. I don't know if it's because I have a child of my own who I would do anything for or if it's because I've seen Jesus do more amazing things than I ever thought possible. But whatever the reason, this story has been on my mind constantly.

I think about it when I pick Brynna up from school and all 20 kids leave, the product of their teacher's outpouring of herself into them. Does she stand there in the wake somedays and wonder "do they realize what it takes to keep order with 4 year olds all day?"

I think about it each of the 73 times a day I help Brynna with a task she can't do on her own. I wonder "does she realize that I stopped what I was doing to make sure she got what she needed?"

I think about it at church when I see hundreds of people stream past staff members, few of whom really understand what it takes to welcome them each week.

I think about it at restaurants, the movies, the grocery store...I think about the man who cuts my grass and the precious woman who cleans my house. Do they end somedays wondering "do the people I served today have any idea what it cost me?"

I never want to be one of the nine. I don't want to raise a child who's one of the nine. I never want to go on with life as usual, overlooking the blessing that I have only because someone sacrificed something of their own. I want to turn every chance I get, and like the one man who came back, throw myself at Jesus's feet, praising and thanking him.

The past year has been a lesson in restoration. Our time in DC was difficult for many reasons, but our marriage suffered the most. Friends prayed; our therapist counseled. We are better because they gave of themselves, and I am so grateful.

Moving was a necessary part of that restoration. My mother-in-law spent 18+ hours in a car and one night in a shady hotel we still talk about. My parents spent 2 weeks away from their own making sure our new house was a place we can call home. They gave of themselves, and I am so grateful.

Two months ago my family was in need. My niece faced 2 life-threatening surgeries; we felt scared, hopeful and helpless all at once. People stopped their lives to pray with us. People Zoe may never meet fasted on our behalf. She is spending a week with her grandparents; she went to the beach. She can ride a bike, bend and stretch in ways that are nothing short of miraculous, and I am so grateful. Forever. Overwhelmingly grateful.

I am a broken, imperfect person who tries really hard but often messes up. I am "good" but can't ever be good enough to get to Heaven on my own. God loves me anyway. He stepped in front of the bullet meant for me. He took the consequences so even though I'm not good enough on my own, I am with Him, and I am so grateful. Overwhelmingly, eternally grateful.

I never want to be one of the nine. I never want to go on with life as usual and overlook what it cost to get me here. I want to turn back often.

Turn back and say thank you.

The Difference

The difference is not that that I live in a different state.
The difference is not that Texas is better.
The difference is not that we struggled.
The difference is not that my friendships took on new meaning.
The difference is not that Jesus is more present in one place over another.
The difference is not that there's another baby to love.
The difference is not that my daughter knows more people.

The difference is that I am different.

The difference is that I live where my family is.
The difference is that Texas is mine.
The difference is that we made it through.
The difference is that I've learned what it is to miss friends, so I savor every moment with them.
The difference is that Jesus met me in my darkest place in this place.
The difference is that we prayed and waited for Faith and now she's here lighting up our lives.
The different is that my daughter knows the people who loved her before she was born.

The difference is that I am different.

The difference is that I'm grateful for the time living somewhere else.
The difference is that Texas was my springboard.
The difference is that we can go anywhere if we go together.
The difference is that I don't take for granted one lunch, visit or conversation - with anyone.
The difference is that now Jesus uses me to meet other girls in their dark places.
The difference is that I get to not just see her, but hold, talk to and snuggle with Faith.
The difference is that my daughter loves people differently because I've learned to love differently.

The difference is that because I am different, everything's different.

If things change but you don't change, nothing changes.
If things are different because you are different, nothing will ever be the same.
That's the difference.

I pray I learn to love like kids do...

As we drove to lunch today, Brynna prompted a conversation that will stay with me always. Sitting in the backseat dressed loudly in pink, she asked if Zoe was in surgery. I explained that it was still nighttime in Australia so Zoe was sleeping but would start surgery soon. Brynna was momentarily distracted by the timezone discrepancy (she comes by that naturally; it confuses the heck out of me) and then she said, "So AJ & Zoe and I share the sun. When it's here, they're sleeping and then when they have the sun, I'm sleeping."

I'm not sure I've ever heard a better explanation.

She chattered on about how she hoped Zoe wouldn't be too scared and how she prayed she slept well. Then, as though the thought hit her for the first time, she asked, "Mama. What's actually wrong with Zoe's back?"

It never occurred to her to need the details to pray.

I explained that when Zoe was two, she had a really bad bug on her back and it hurt her insides. She had to take medicine and have surgery to remove it. Now the doctors are fixing where the bug hurt her back. She thought a moment and as if she was doing math in her tiny head, she asked, "So has Zoe always been sick since I've been alive?" I confirmed and told her that's why in some of the pictures when she and AJ were babies, Zoe doesn't have hair. The medicine made her lose her hair. Her response was, "Zoe lost her hair?" I told her to think about the picture on Yaya's wall. Nothing. I told her to think about the pictures we laugh about when she and AJ were such different sizes. Nothing.

She was too busy playing with and loving her cousin to notice she was bald.

She then asked if Zoe's back has always hurt even after the bug was gone. "Yes, " I told her. "That's why she's had to wear a brace." I can't count how many times Brynna and Zoe have been in the midst of a conversation while Zoe laid on the floor and one of us tightened the straps on her brace her brace. (Brynna's arm is literally wrapped around Zoe's brace as they smile for the camera in Disney World.) Brynna obviously knows Zoe has worn a brace; it just never dawned on her it was bad. I added that after today's surgery, she hopefully won't have to wear the brace again or the halo on her head. Without a joking ounce in her body, she asked with every bit of 4-year-old seriousness, "Mom. There's something IN Zoe's head?" The tone in her voice implied "What is wrong with you people that you haven't gotten it off her head before now?!"

I share these pics only to illustrate how profound it is that she literally never noticed. That check in your gut that just happened...she never had that thought of "oh, poor Zoe!" She saw her cousin. She loves her cousin. They made faces to see who could make the other laugh because that's what they do.

We could learn so much from children if we'd let them teach us.

We don't need to be in the same timezone to share.
We don't need details to pray.
If we'd focus so intently on loving one another, we wouldn't even recognize the differences and flaws that we think are such a big deal.

Be Loud

Zoe is loud. She comes by it naturally. Her mom is loud, her brother and cousin Brynna are loud. Some might even say her Aunt Gigi is loud. (me? noooo!) Zoe is a different kind of loud. She laughs loud like AJ and talks loud like Brynna. She snorts loud when she laughs like her mama and dresses loud (which could not please her Aunt Gigi more!). But Zoe also loves loud. She has this ability to love you even if you don't love her back (which you will do eventually because you can't help it). She loves no matter what you look like. She loves no matter where she is. She loves with all of her little self.

When Zoe was admitted to the hospital a couple weeks ago, she immediately set about making the space hers. No way could she lay in a quiet, colorless room for a month! She hung streamers from her bed rails and decorated with art work and balloons and more streamers. The bed she's been in for traction has a canopy-like frame over it that looks like a birthday party had too much to drink. And it's awesome. It's exactly who she is. She also entered the intensive care ward like she and her mama enter any space - they immediately knew everyone's names, why they are there and how they could make them laugh. And that's what she's done for the past 10 days. She's loudly loved the patients, doctors, nurses and visitors of that hospital. She's had bubble fights so messy they had to mop the floor. She's done every art project they could think up for someone flat on her back. She's made silly faces with Brynna across an ocean, and we've laughed so loud we've been asked to keep it down. She's watched television by changing channels with her toes, much to the amusement of everyone in sight. She's learned to roll and climb while keeping her head stationary in the halo and is not shy to put on a show. Zoe has laughed and loved loud.

Our loud little monkey has surgery again today. Her progress while in traction has been even more than doctors predicted, and they are hopeful today's fusion will be her last surgery for awhile. That's our hope, too. Zoe is understandably scared. Just like a couple weeks ago, we all are. This surgery will fuse part of her spine by inserting a rod and screws in several vertebrate. That part of her spine will never grow further. Surgery is several hours long, and again, I'm sitting on the opposite side of the world rather than in the waiting room by my sister. There are risks that come with any operation, but especially spinal surgery, that I can't bear to think about. 

But here is where my heart will sit today - God is loud. He likes to display His glory in big ways because He's big. The sky that goes on forever, the sunset with more colors than I can name, the newborn baby who miraculously goes from breathing liquid to air in seconds...He's loud in ways we can't comprehend. He's loud, and He made Zoe beautifully loud.

So today, I'm praying loud. And I'm dressing loud and I'm laughing loud. I'm going to play with Brynna loud, and I'm going to love loud. If you aren't already dressed for the day, go add something pink (the brighter the better) and think of Zoe for me. If the pink doesn't match or makes your outfit a little more loud than usual...all the better! 

No matter where you are. No matter what it looks like. Just like Zoe, with all your little self...Be loud.

If you dress loud, post a pic on Twitter or Instagram with hashtag #ZoeLife so I can show her!

Give Thanks

I've explained before that I have a tradition with my friends. When we are struggling or stressed, we ask others to start an "I'm Grateful" day. There is something therapeutic and motivating about hearing the praises of others. Thanksgiving is our country's version of a Grateful day - regardless of where you are or what you've been through, it's a day set aside to give thanks. It's a day to pause and step back from the normal routine of life. But unfortunately, some routines can't be stepped away from. Sometimes you are in the midst of a struggle you can't put on hold. There is no pause button on divorce, unemployment or cancer. Those are the days when you need a little help. You need to hear the praise of others to help motivate and heal your spirit.

My family is in one of those seasons. Zoe can't put traction or spinal surgery on hold. My sister and brother-in-law can't step away from the hospital routine. There is no pause button. A Grateful day is in order and it just so happens, the entire US decided to join us! I may not be able to go to Australia, but praise doesn't need a plane ticket. (Look at that! Zoe is bridging international boundaries and she's never left her bed!)

So today, on Thanksgiving Day, these are a few things I'm grateful for...

iMessage
camera phones
Skype & FaceTime
AT&T myfi (I don't actually know what you call it, but this little white box means I can connect to the internet in the middle of a hay field)
Brynna's laugh
AJ's innocent spirit
Zoe's smile
real Dr. Pepper
Kleenex
warm socks
heating
indoor plumbing (it's cold out there!)
reading glasses
enough food to eat and share
my fingers (the keyboard is how I speak)
David's hug
Taylor
my dad's wisdom
my mom's heart
watching Brynna dance with Nia and Nala
Autum, Colby and Chassidy
snuggles with Miles
high heels
tall boots
biscuits & gravy
my girlfriends
grace
mercy
Jesus

(my list is CLEALY not in order of importance!)

So now it's your turn. Will you please list a few things you're grateful for? You can add it as a Facebook comment or here below. You can tweet them with hashtag #ImGrateful or you can take a pic and post them on Instagram. Just know that the more you praise, the more you help my sister (and everyone around you) do the same. The more you praise, the farther away the worries get. The more you praise, the more you see the good and the less scary the bad seems.

ps...this is not rhetorical. I'm literally asking you to literally post the things you're literally grateful for.
pps...this is not a writing contest. There is no great wisdom in my love for Dr. Pepper.
ppps...when you're done, share this post so my sister can see how many people all over the world are willing share their praise
pppps...I don't actually have another note. I just wanted to put "pppps". but while I'm here - What are you grateful for???

Silver Linings Playbook

I never saw that movie. I actually don't really know what it's about. But I love the title. I want to live by that playbook. I want to take my cues based on the silver linings rather than the clouds.

My niece, Zoe, is in traction in a hospital in Australia. My sister is sitting by her bed and I'm not there. Zoe is in pain. Vikki is tired. Those are some dark clouds. And if all we look for are the clouds, there are more to be found. But if we look for the silver linings...what a better skyline that is. What a more beautiful sight!

The hospital they are in is set up differently than we understand in the US. You don't suffer your pain quietly and personally but laying right next to another child in their own pain. There is no private room with your own bathroom and place to lay by your baby's bed. There isn't space to take a moment to yourself to regroup, pray or cry. That cloud feels pretty dark and heavy. But if you look for it, there's a silver lining. That lack of privacy means you know the people around you. The day Zoe was admitted, she shared a room with two other kids. One little boy was undergoing chemo, so Zoe and Vikki could relate personally and give them encouragement. The other was just out of surgery similar to the one Zoe will have next week. Those close quarters meant that Vikki was able to talk to parents. Those conversations meant those kids were prayed for by people an ocean away. I prayed for them just this morning.

Sometimes a cloud feels darker because of when it rolls in. In the middle of the night when Vikki had just gotten Zoe calmed down and resting, a little girl was brought in to the room where Zoe is in traction. She needed constant supervision but her parents were less than concerned for those around them in such critical conditions. As you can imagine, Vikki initially responded with frustration at the effect their outburst had on Zoe. I have a "you wake her, you take her rule" and that's just on a Tuesday. But throughout the next day they got to know that little girl. They learned about her life and struggles. Vikki circled her bed in person, and I joined her prayer in spirit. They were able to be a little bright spot for her. They were a silver lining for her and she was one for them.

And my favorite silver lining of all... The night Zoe shared the room with two kids, one of them, Anthony, had complications from his fusion surgery. It's sad to see any child hurt. It's hard to not be able to help them. It was scary on a new level to see Anthony's pain knowing Zoe would have the same procedure. That cloud isn't just black, it's ominous. That's the kind of cloud that feels like it blocks out the sun. But God had the lining ready and waiting in the room down the hall. Zoe was moved into a room with a little girl named Rachel. Rachel is 12 and has paralysis and severe trauma as a result of a car accident years ago. Her family lives hours away, so they aren't at the hospital with her. She's been in rehab and under observation for so long that it's been arranged for Rachel to be able to go to school. That means that Rachel wakes up, go to school and then goes "home" to hang with the nurses in the afternoon. I could hear the heartbreak my sister felt as she described Rachel's situation. But where Vikki saw sadness, Zoe saw opportunity. Zoe may be in a hospital but she's a child. And children have a way of seeing what we can't. As they talked, Zoe asked Rachel where her mom is. When Zoe finally understood that Rachel was alone, her response wasn't pity. Her face lit up and she said, "Well that's great because my mom's here and she can help us with whatever we need!"

We see a little girl alone in a hospital. Zoe saw a friend to share with.
We are sad for a mom who has to watch her baby hurt. The girls just saw a mom being a mom.
We cry for what is. They smile at what can be.

Rachel is no longer alone. She visits Zoe in traction, and Vikki keeps tabs on Rachel's progress so she can answer when Zoe asks how she is.

When we look for clouds, we will find them.
When we look with the eyes of a child, we will see the silver linings.

Who Holds Tomorrow

My niece, Zoe, is a survivor. Not like in the dreamy "little girls are resilient" way. Like in the Zoe kicked cancer in the face way. We walked through some really dark days a few years ago. My family held hands and we prayed all the way through the valley of the shadow of death - literally. As I walked to Zoe's hospital room one day, I asked the nurse what the colored signs on the doors to the right and left of Zoe's were for. She explained that the signs alert hospital staff that the tiny, precious patients in those rooms are near death. It was a silent way of reminding people who entered to be sensitive to the broken hearts inside. It was also a silent reminder that death literally knocked next door. So we prayed and cried and prayed and cried. Through chemo and radiation and puke and fear. And still holding hands, we slowly but surely, walked out the other side, led by a little bald head who now, 5 years later, has long, blonde hair.

Her head is no longer bald and her nails aren't chipped from drugs - they are usually painted a sparkly shade of pink. But rarely do wounds heal without leaving scars and aftereffects in the wake. For Zoe, that lingering damage is in her back. The tumor wrapped around her spine and that area of her body has tried to compensate for the trauma by compressing and turning inward. Her spine has curved and isn't allowing her to stand or walk straight, which is affecting her organs, hips and more. So today, Zoe is back in a hospital. After today's surgery, she will remain in the hospital in traction and, then in a few weeks, she will have a second surgery to fuse the vertebrate that have died.

Zoe is scared. Her mama and daddy are scared. Her grandparents and her Aunt Gigi are scared. And if her Aunt Gigi can be candidly honest for a moment: I'm so sad. I'm sad she has to feel one second of pain. I'm sad I'm an ocean away and can't sit beside my sister and say nothing. I'm sad that some of the childlike faith of a little girl in Zoe has been replaced with hurt. I'm sad that I can't hug her and hold her and tell her I love her. I'm sad I won't be there when she wakes up. I'm sad someone else will hold the pink bucket when the anesthesia makes her sick. I'm sad someone else will paint her nails and blow bubbles to take her mind off what's happening. I'm so sad.

I'm also speechless at how good God is. That may sound an odd thing to you in the midst of the sorrow I've described, but the truth doesn't change with our situations. The truth is the same when we're up and when we're down. And the truth is: God is good. He doesn't want Zoe to hurt anymore than I do. He loves her more than I or her mom or dad, even, could imagine loving her. He has surrounded her with a family who would walk through fire for her. And we will. And just like last time, He will go before us. A sweet new friend approached me Sunday to ask for specifics about Zoe's situation. I shared a bit and thought it overly compassionate when she started crying. But then she told me why. She told me that while we don't really know one another, she felt compelled to fast and pray for my family. After I talked to a friend this morning in another city, she prayed with a group of women I will never meet. God was paving the path before I knew how bumpy the walk would be. My sister and her family live in Adelaide, Australia. While they aren't close enough for my family to be there every day, my brother-in-law's family is, and they are. And that means that even though I'm not beside my sister in the waiting room, God made sure she's not alone. Some friends "happened" to have a business trip that took them to Adelaide last week, and my mom and dad will arrive soon. God is in the details. He knows our need before we know to ask for help. Even when we don't understand, God is good.

Does it mean I'm not sad? No. My heart feels like it's in pieces and some of them are on the other side of the world. Does it mean any of it's easy? Not at all. But does it mean we have hope beyond what we feel? Yes. A million times, yes!

Because as I trust Him even when the sadness leaves me empty, God fills the void with joy and peace.
It doesn't mean I know what tomorrow holds. It means I know who holds tomorrow.

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. (Romans 15:13)

Nurture vs. Nature

It's an age-old debate. Are we a product of the DNA inherently passed to us or the environment in which we live? The topic has always been of interest to me because I don't fit in either category. I was raised by very traditional, suburban parents who love to hunt, fish, camp and cook. They live on 67 acres in Oklahoma within a one hour drive of where they grew up. I feel most at home in what my dad calls the "concrete jungle." (aka: the "big city"), and have moved more times than I can count. I would rather wear heels than tennis shoes. I shop for fun, and I don't cook. (I mean, I do. I can. I'm not bad at it. It's just not something I do to relax.) I am pretty much the opposite of both the nature I received genetically and the environment I was nurtured in.

Nurture

My friends adopted a little boy a couple of years ago, and he might be the poster child for the Nurture argument. He does not share his father's genes, but they are two peas in a pod. From facial expressions and mannerisms to likes and dislikes, he often acts so similarly to his daddy that people don't know they aren't biologically related. He is a product of the out-pouring of love that defines his life.

Nature
And if Wyatt represents the Nurture camp, Brynna Grace leads the charge of the Nature crew. It began as a joke to call her MiniMe. It was an acknowledgement of the ways that she and I are so similar. She came out barking orders and loving people. She would rather be in "fancy" clothes regardless of how anyone else is dressed. There is nothing "joking" about our likeness. Her strong will, stubbornness and spunk can all be traced with a very clear line right back to my front door. She's so much like me that she teaches me about myself (sometimes more than I cared to know).

So. Nature or Nurture. The question is: does it matter? Judging from two kids who love their mamas and daddies and know they are loved in return, I'd say...not a bit.

Alone

I don't remember doing anything alone. By the time I was old enough to remember or able to do things, my brother had been born. Summer camp, elementary school...I did it all with a built-in buddy. I met my best friend Hope when I was 11, and I don't have many memories that don't include her. Brandy started completing my sentences when I was 15, and together, we went to college. I honestly think the 3 of us could take over the world if not for our day jobs (and the small mini-me's that follow us around). When I was 18, my family adopted my sister, Vikki. Somehow she was separated from us for the first half of our lives but I still don't understand how because while we couldn't be more different, our hearts share a beat. I was married at 21 - before I even graduated college. (Do I recommend that? Absolutely not. Do I regret it? Absolutely not.) Most people stop adding "best friends" after the teenage years, but I got a bonus. Janay and I became friends and then coworkers and then family. Most days, she knows me better than I know myself.

One of my most fervent prayers for Brynna has been that she find strong, long-terrm girlfriends to love and do life with. I still pray that, but today, I realized that God has been answering another prayer without my even asking. Brynna is an only child. I'm constantly aware that she doesn't have the built-in buddy I had. I'm ever-concerned that she not feel alone. But in the midst of my worry, I didn't realize that she doesn't. She doesn't feel alone because she learned very early to make friends wherever she goes. The pool, the playground or the park...she has learned not to be afraid of being alone and reaching out to the person next to her. Just this weekend, as I laid on the beach thinking about how much more fun it would be if my sister were here and BG had her cousins to play with, Brynna picked up her pail, walked over to a little girl building a sand castle and built something great with a new friend.

All this time I spent worrying about her being alone, she was becoming more rooted in who she is. All the prayers for God to bring people to her were unnecessary because she was doing something way more important - she was learning how to go to people.

We spend our days as moms trying to teach life lessons to our little ones. But when we take a step back, more often than not, they are teaching us...

Bluebonnets

I recently made a joke to friends in DC about Texans and bluebonnets. I explained that like so much in the Lone Star State, it's both pride in all-things Texas and a tradition that most people don't even think about. They don't know when it started. They don't know why. They just know that when they were little, their parents plopped them in the middle of a grassy area with blueish purple flowers so they plop their kids in the middle of the same flowers. If you are friends with anyone Texan on Facebook, Instagram or Twitter, you've probably seen evidence. And let me clear up what you were thinking: Yes, that's the side of a highway. Yes, they just pulled over, sat the kids in the flowers and took a picture.

We moved to DC when Brynna was one, so I have pictures with monuments and cherry blossoms but no bluebonnets. Well...I HAD no pictures of bluebonnets. After exactly two weeks back in Texas, BG's grandma fixed our egregious error. We are staying with David's parents while we are homeless (David prefers I call it "in transition") and Honey K asked if she and Brynna could take a day trip with friends last week. I hesitated approximately 2 seconds before I agreed and began planning my day off. I knew they were going to tour an ice cream maker but honestly, I had no idea where they were going. I knew Honey K would take care of her wherever they were, and I knew I could sleep in. Done.

Imagine my pleasant surprise when these were the shots she came home with. I wasn't born and raised in Texas, but it's now official. I've got a photo of my kid in the bluebonnets. Someone make me a badge with a star on it!

A(nother) Brother and a Sister

Today is another one of my favorite days.

When you get married, it could be apples...could be oranges. You can marry into people who become family or you can have a strained relationship with people who you never quite feel at home with. I got the former. My husband's brother has become my brother. I'm so glad for the day Parker was born and am grateful to call him my own.  (Note: Parker's not real keen on photos, so I don't have many and he will probably have much to say about my using this one. But it completely sums up who he is - he has the biggest heart and he loves to make people laugh - especially his mama!)

Every family marches to the beat of it's own special drum - a rhythm that each members dances to. In our family, I am the big sister. In every sense of the word, I take my role seriously. Vikki is adopted and actually only 2 months younger than me, but you'd never know it - partly because we function like two parts of the same whole and partly because she looks more like our mom than I do. (My mom has been known to tell people she was just in labor for 62 days!) Vikki is mine to love, protect, defend, teach, encourage and every now and then infuriate. She is mine. My little sister. I praise God for the day He created her and the day He grafted her into our family.

A Brother and a Sister

Today is one of my favorite days of the year.

It's the day my brother was born which changed my whole world because it meant that growing up, no matter who didn't like me, what happened at school or how alone I felt at summer camp, I had a friend. Oh, we fought at times like siblings do. But it was always short-lived and we were much more often on the same team than opposite sides. Ryan is married, he owns a house and manages employees at work. But although the rest of the world sees him as a grown man, he will always be my little brother. And I will always be grateful for the day God gave him to me.

Today is also my sister-friend's birthday. I wasn't there for the day she was born, but the day I met her changed my whole world all over again. Brandy is the flip side of my coin. She can finish my sentences even though she lives thousands of miles away. Just about every memory I have from age 14 to now, she's there - in the forefront, the background or right beside me. She's there. For the good, the bad and the ugly...she's there. And I'm here. And I'm so blessed to call her my family.

Perfectly Imperfect

There's no such thing as a perfect parent. There are certainly some situations better than others, but even the wisest of us all fall short. My parents are among those imperfect people. They didn't do it all right. There are things I wish were different, and I know they feel the same. But tonight I got a reminder that sometimes even if every memory isn't pretty or every decision correct, you never lose the opportunity to do it better than yesterday. You never stop being a parent.

My best friend had a crisis about a month ago. She had to leave her home and needed to be somewhere safe. At 2 in the morning I suggested she go to my parents' house. I hadn't spoken to them about it, but I didn't have to. A few weeks later I needed to bring my goddaughter on a family outing. Tickets were purchased in advance, and I wasn't sure how we'd accommodate one more. Without asking them, I went to pick her up, and we figured it out later. Their concern was never once about the tickets. Doing what was right for someone I love came first.

A few days ago I called my mom to give her a gift idea for Brynna. We were shopping and BG almost hyperventilated over a TinkerBell doll. In true "grandma fashion" my mom promptly bought out the store. (Of course the grandma logic being if she liked one, she'll LOVE two!) We love how much BG is loved. We want her to be showered with love and blessings. But more importantly, we want her to understand that giving is always greater than receiving. So tonight, she got to open that present, and after we talked about how everyone doesn't have the same things we do, she got to choose one doll to keep and one to give to the little girl of someone we know. Brynna then helped wrap the gift and make a card for Genesis so she has a special present on Christmas.

I emailed my parents (as usual...after the fact) and explained that I had taken away one gift that would have been from them. I apologized for that and the fact that they didn't get to see her open it (which is 98% of the grandparent fun!). My mom's response was that if Brynna learned a life lesson that's what was important. She didn't care that she didn't get credit. She didn't worry that Brynna won't know who gave her the doll. She said she was proud of us for teaching BG something that will impact who she becomes.

My prayer for Brynna has been that I follow God in such a way that she starts ahead of where I did. I have strived to make decisions so she stands on my shoulders and is that much closer to being everything God created her to be. My parents aren't perfect. But my vantage point is from their shoulders. They have taught me to love in a way that can't be told but can only be shown. They have lived out love and because of that, I love with my whole heart. And because of that, Brynna lives in love.

No parent is perfect, but in the midst of our imperfections, I'm so glad mine chose to teach me how to love.

Convinced: Part 1

I heard a sermon recently that stuck with me. The speaker described a guy named Andy who is convinced that God is his provider. She told numerous stories of how Andy, his wife and 4 kids have found themselves in a place of financial need and in one way or another God provided. At the end of her stories about Andy she said, "You may be able to sway him in another area, but when it comes to whether or not God is his sole provider, you can't shake him. He is CONVINCED in here (his head), here (his heart) and down here (his gut)."

I struggle with a lot of stuff. I doubt myself. I question my abilities and decisions. I know He promised it, but I wonder if He can really use the pieces of me to create something more beautiful than I can imagine. I know He's our comforter but sometimes I keep Him at arm's distance. I believe in His love but it overwhelms me. I marvel at His ability to create the universe but I struggle to let Him lead my sometimes silly self. But I realized today why that sermon stuck with me. I have an "Andy spot." I have one area in which I am CONVINCED.  When it comes to this, you can't shake me. I know that I know that God is Healer.

How do I know?

I dropped the phone when they told me he had a heart attack. I smiled through tears when they said the only way he was alive was because he was at the hospital (the last place on earth he'd ever choose to be) when it happened. I held his hand and walked that country road for months, helping him get stronger after a 7-way bypass. I learned that you don't have to know what you're doing to ask God for help. I learned He doesn't need me to be eloquent. He needs me to acknowledge I need Him. When I watch my dad throw my daughter in the pool, I'm CONVINCED.


I laid in a hospital bed and rubbed the radiation burn on her little back. I held her while she cried and hurt. I held her mama while she did the same. I learned to pray in ways I didn't know before. I learned that while God never, ever wants us to hurt, He will use even the imperfect parts of our situation for good. My niece is not only a cancer survivor, but people who meet her now struggle to accept that she was ever sick. Every time I watch her run and swim and play, I'm CONVINCED.

I sat in that delivery room in stunned silence after they took her to the NICU. I sobbed the night they said she was too sick for us to visit. I felt an emptiness I had never known when I drove home from the hospital without her. I learned to trust even when I can't see the hand to hold on to. I learned that faith is a battle scar proudly earned. When my little girl reminds me she's a big girl, when she runs with limitless amounts of energy, I'm CONVINCED.











I held her tiny hand when it was too small to wrap about my pinky. I helped wrap her little body in plastic so she wouldn't get too cold. I put together her crib that for months she couldn't come home to sleep in. I learned a kind of faith you can't teach without going through something. I learned that believing is not about receiving. It's about believing - in the One able to be believed. My goddaughter is a healthy two year old with not one complication from being born at 26 weeks. Every time I see her sweet smile, I'm CONVINCED.

Today, you may sway me on a few things, but of one thing, I am CONVINCED. God is a healer. I've seen Him do it too many times.

I talked with her via Facebook and email when she became Taylor's "Auburn mom." A little piece of me was jealous that when Taylor had a bad day, she called me but Summer got to hug her. I thanked God daily for the love, support, protection and guidance her family provided the daughter of my heart. When they found cancer and chemo started, I was jealous again that she rocked those wigs like a pop star! I've learned that it doesn't matter what I see, God is bigger. As Summer now recovers from two surgeries in a week, I'm CONVINCED. And I'm just waiting...

I prayed with her through in vitro and a dozen procedures. I walked the road with her to the decision to adopt. I threw a party when that baby boy was born and went home with two people who love him more than he'll ever comprehend. I rejoiced with her when a year later, she got pregnant. We talked it through when last week that baby girl was diagnosed with Trisomy 18. I've learned that God can do what we can't see. I've learned that sometimes He waits so that when He steps in, we can't wonder who did it. There's no option but to be CONVINCED. So I'm just waiting...

I cried when I discovered how her abortion affected her life for years to follow. I traveled from the passenger seat as she navigated the waters of being single into her mid-30's. I stood by her when she married a man who loves God and my Janay. My heart broke when she lost the baby she carried for 3 months. My heart hurts as I now hold her hand (long distance) as she does everything in her power but has yet to fill the desire of her heart for motherhood. I've learned, though, that He has a purpose for every breath we take - even the ones that hurt, and I'm CONVINCED. So I'm just waiting...

Last weekend I watched a man tightrope walk across two buildings at Niagra Falls. At 600 ft. in the air, I realized that some things you have to see to believe. I've seen, I believe and of this, I'm CONVINCED. God is Healer. In here (my head), here (my heart) and down here (my gut), I know it because I've seen it. I'm CONVINCED and I'm just waiting...for the the next story to add to my list.

Home

I’ve learned a lot the past few years about roots.  I speak and write about it often.  If you try to keep one foot in the last place, you’ll never learn and grow in the new place.  You have to put down roots; plant yourself. 

When we first moved to DC, I worked hard not to repeat past mistakes.  I moved quickly to embrace my new home.  I didn’t drag my feet.  I got busy and got planted.  I led my family to do the same. You don’t hear me say that I miss “home;” I’m very careful with my words.  I was raised in Oklahoma.  I grew into the woman I am in Texas.  DC is my home.

But I learned a profound lesson about Home today.  Home is your happy place.  It’s the place where you can go and be totally yourself and that’s ok.  Home is where people love you not for anything you’ve done but just because you’re you.  Home is where you are nurtured.  Home is what fills you up when you’re empty.  Home is lotion on dry skin.  Home is where you laugh until it hurts.  Home is where you can be completely silent and be completely heard.

You can’t get so comfortable in one that you won’t embrace the other, but it’s ok for your heart to rest in more than one home.  You don’t have to love the home that grew you less to put down roots in the home that you’ve been called to build. 

This place – Texas, Fellowship Church, the comfort of my friends who know me better than family – this is Home.

The place where I’m rooted – DC, with David and Brynna, where God called me to be His light –is also Home.

I thought that loving one meant letting go of the other.  I learned that loving both means no matter where I am…I’m home.

Signs

Zoe Regina.

My niece.

My namesake.

The meaning of her name is “life” and “queen.”

God created her to live a royal life.

God doesn’t make mistakes.

He uses the imperfections of our world to show grace, do good and bring glory.

He gives us SIGNS and wonders…

Signs.

Two years ago.

A shiny, bald head, peeling fingernails and pale skin.

Wouldn’t – and couldn’t – eat, no matter how hard we tried.

So skinny.  Too skinny.

Burned.

Scarred.

Afraid.

In pain.

Tubes and machines.

Signs of disease.

Signs of hurt and need.

Signs.

Last week.

Arguing over combing her hair.

Hair that almost touches her shoulders.

Giggles.

Races.

Climbing.

Appetite.

Asking about dinner in the middle of lunch.

Tanned skin from swinging in the sun.

Skinned knees from running and playing.

Jumping in a bounce house.

“I did it, Gigi!”

No back brace.

No evidence of disease.

Clean scans.

Signs of healing.

Signs of joy and restoration.

Signs…and wonders.

Signs I promise not to forget.

Signs for which I will forever be thankful.

Signs I don’t ever want to take for granted.

Not by the hands of men.

Not by hard work or strong will.

Not by any one of us.

Signs.

and Wonders.

Therefore, in Jesus I have found reason to boast.

 I won’t tell stories of anything but that which I’ve seen firsthand – lives changed

by His signs and wonders.

 But because I’ve seen it, I have to shout it

so those who don’t know Him can see

and those who have heard can understand!

Romans 15:17-21*.

*paraphrase mine

Love = Family

There are few things that leave me speechless.  I usually have words for any occasion, but the love between Brynna and her cousins has left me with nothing more than a happy heart and a big smile.

Kaulah Tuhan ku

Sometimes we all have those moments – those times when we lose focus, get distracted and end up a bit off-track.  Lately, I’ve been so preoccupied with meaningless things, I found myself in one of those states.  Do you know the feeling?  You aren’t doing anything blatantly wrong but you feel like something isn’t right.  You lose patience with the little stuff of life to the point that you’re just too tired to think about the important things. You find yourself lacking joy for no reason other than you let the anxiety and stress overtake it.

I woke up the other morning craving music.  I realized that in my attempt to lessen some of the craziness that surrounds me (aka: 3 small, loud, blonde people), I have removed any noise I can control.  I haven’t played music as I often do because having it on would just be one more sound in my over-stimulated ears.  Today it’s as if God woke me up, gave me a song and lifted the fog.  He cleared the air so I can focus.  He removed the distractions long enough for me to see.

While attending a Christian service this morning in Kuala Lumpur, God gave me a glimpse of Heaven.  I stood holding my niece between my dad and sister, singing with people from all over the world.  Surrounded by voices from Malaysia, Finland, UK, Australia, China, the Philippines, America and beyond, we sang to One God.  We sang Kaulah Tuhan ku – You’re my God.

Ku sembah Kau Tuhan

Ku sembah Kau Tuhan

Ku puji, ku muilakan

Nama Mu

I worship You, O God

I worship You, O God

I praise, I exalt

Your Name

No matter what I see, Ku puji, ku muilakan Nama Mu.  No matter how loud it is around me, Ku puji, ku muilakan Nama Mu.  Even when it’s hard, when it’s not easy and I have to try harder than I thought possible… Ku puji, ku muilakan Nama Mu.  I praise, I exalt Your Name.

I'm going to miss this...

Keeping up with Brynna is a full-time job. When she's with her cousins, it can be downright exhausting! We are visiting my sister in Malaysia, and my dad has reminded us that while it might be hard, these years with our kids when they are little are not forever. One day (sooner than we'd like), we will look back and wish again for the days of silly faces and giggles. And living on separate sides of the world means cherishing the times we have together when we have them.

Each time Vikki or I sigh (or huff and puff) from chasing our tiny tornadoes, my dad smiles like only a grandpa can in the midst of chaos and starts singing the chorus of a popular country song:

You’re gonna miss this

You’re gonna want this back

You’re gonna wish these days

Hadn’t gone by so fast

These are some good times.

So take a good look around

You may not know it now

But you’re gonna miss this

And he's right. 

Each time Brynna hears Vikki or I say "Daddy" she looks around and starts searching for her own daddy.  (They are all still very confused by the fact that Papa is also a daddy.)  Yesterday in the car she spent about 10 minutes waving and cheering, "Hi Daddy!  Daddy, hi!"  And just when I was about to say how I wished she would be a little quieter, I thought...I'm going to miss this.

The "Not So Twins," as we call BG and AJ, couldn't be more different.  At the science museum, they found these ramps.  They are set up to race and that's exactly what Brynna wanted to do.  But AJ was just as content to chase the golf balls and bring them back to BG.  They did this so long we finally let them race one last time and had to move on.  I was so sick of standing in that one spot watching those same golf balls but then I realized how much fun they were having doing something so simple.  And I thought...I'm going to miss this.  

(Yaya and Papa did not share my impatience.  They would have stood there for hours holding those two if that's what they wanted.)  :) 

If you have one, you better have three.  Three books, three toys, three race cars.  Zoe hadn't gotten to her car in this picture, but believe me it's an all-out fight if we unfortunately end up in a situation where someone has to wait (or Heaven-forbid) have something different than the others.  The constant love-hate battles can wear a person down.  But just when the bickering reaches new decibels, one of them starts giggling and the others follow suit.  And you can't help but think...I'm going to miss this.

Hugs can be deadly and holding hands sometimes ends in a skinned knee or two.  But these three love each other with all their little selves.  And even when they are falling all over each other, even I can admit...I'm going to mis this.

Monkey-see, monkey-do.  What one does, they all must do.  And when we have to go home and won't get to see each other for several more months, I know without question...I'm going to miss this.

They refused to look at the camera.  All of them.  When they want to, they band together in their own little militia.  I honestly think they could rule the world with the bat of an eyelash, the flip of a pigtail and a grin that melts even the toughest cynic.  

Even when they drive me nuts, I know...these are some good times.  I'm going to miss this.