(Permission given by Rebekah to share this story with you .)
When we first laid eyes on precious Rebekah she was just a few days old. Nestled in the crook of my arms, this adorable tiny baby snuggled into my chest. What a pretty little baby she was! Beautiful brown skin and a little tuft of hair held together with a tiny pink bow. Rebekah was just lovely to gaze upon.
Rebekah's adoption story is special -- as are all children who are adopted. This youngest daughter of ours is now 15 years old and has given me permission to share her story. I hope you are as amazed as we were as we watched this story unfold! In June 1996, just two months since I'd finished my last round of chemotherapy for breast cancer --
One evening Rick and I reflected upon our lives together. We both remembered regretting the inability to have a third child. After Jeremy's birth I had surgery to prevent another pregnancy. In retrospect we wished we'd not carried through with this plan, but also acknowledged the fact that another pregnancy would have caused my cancer cells to grow even more quickly.
On this particular night Rick and I stayed awake talking together for awhile. Eventually I fell to sleep but Rick stayed up long enough to send a short prayer to God, "If you ever see fit to bless us with a third child, we were be very grateful." Rick didn't share this prayer with me for a long time.
A few weeks later Rick was having lunch with a friend from our church. During this time Paul* asked an unusual question, "Are you and Kathy thinking about adopting a child?" A little taken back Rick said that we weren't and asked "why" he asked this odd question. Our friend cautiously replied, "Because God has given me a vision," and then, proceeded to share the details with Rick. "I saw the whole family gathered around Kathy as she held a newborn baby. Everyone was sitting or standing around the sofa in your living room. I couldn't see if the baby was a boy or a girl, but it was a newborn and everyone was very excited to welcome this little one into your family."
Later when Rick shared this conversation with me I was stunned. I'd recently finished chemotherapy and our son was struggling with autism. It seemed impossible for any judge to grant us custody of another child!? After all, how long would I live given the possibility of cancer recurrence? And how much attention could I offer a newborn baby with an autistic child to deal with.
After some discussion we decided not to do anything -- in fact, I thought the whole idea sort of silly. Life went on as usual. Then a couple months later Paul called Rick once more to say, "This morning I was praying and believe God wants you to hear, again, that you and Kathy ARE going to be blessed with another child within a year. I believe that God wants you and Kathy to prepare for this gift by praying for and expect the arrival of this special baby." As you can imagine, we were astounded by this man's words.
With nothing to lose we began praying earnestly for this special little baby who might someday enter our home. Neither of us were totally confident that these visions were Truth, but thought prayers could only help move the process along if God was truly planning to bless us with another little one.
Then one chilly, but awesome morning in October Rick shared with me a journal entry he'd written just days before. On that particular morning he had written, "I believe God is nudging us to begin praying for our new baby to come and her birth mother. I believe we are to pray that this birth mother come to know God and that her newborn child would be protected throughout this pregnancy." Rick journaled this in October -- something important to remember.
With renewed strength and courage we began praying together for God's will to be done. We were careful to pray only for God's will and for guidance. Rick and I agreed to only a few others which didn't seem to include members of our own families. It was an exciting time -- a journey that would have many peaks & valleys. It was to be an awesome story for Rebekah to learn about as she grew up. She would learn just how much God loves His children -- even children who are special because of their adoption.
"Delight yourself in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord, trust also in Him, and He shall bring it to pass." Psalm 34: 4, 7
* Name Changed To Protect The Identity of Our Friend
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Godly Preparation: A Full Quiver
When Rick and I were dating we often took long walks together -- at least in the spring, summer and fall seasons. We used this time to get to know one another and to talk about our busy, hectic lives. Rick was a banker while I was learning how to be a most excellent pediatric nurse. We were young and in love so planning for a future together seemed only natural =)
One evening we walked from my little apartment to a tiny street-side park. Located on one of the corners of a very busy intersection, cars were zipping by, but Rick and I didn't hear them. We only had ears from one another. (Aww, love is bliss =) There were comfortable benches arranged around a beautiful water fountain. Our wedding was just months away and our conversation had turned to long-range plans for our future as husband and wife, then later, as a daddy and mommy.
"Rick, I would like three children," I said, "I'd like to have two biological children and adopt one child with special needs." Having seen other nurses at Children's Mercy adopt children who needed families to love and care for them, I thought it would be something I'd like to do, too. I pictured bringing home a small child who was either blind or deaf -- simpler challenges, I thought. I recall thinking to myself that almost any special need would be fine, but that I did NOT want to bring home a child with mental retardation or similar mental deficit. "No way!" I thought to myself. "I'd never be able to hand that!"
I was wary of people with mental retardation. As a child I'd been scared by the actions of one of our neighbor's daughter who happened to have Down's Syndrome. During my childhood years, the 1960's, children with special needs were just seldom seen. In school they were tucked away in special education classrooms -- an almost forgotten group of people. Words like inclusion, acceptance and diversity weren't talked about. My limited experience with those having special needs had created confusion and fear.
Fast forward ten years at which time our family was complete -- our quiver was full, so to speak. Rick and I had birthed two children into this world, and later had adopted a little baby girl. One day I thought about my original declaration about children which I'd expressed to Rick so long ago that one fine summer night before we were married. I marveled at how closely our lives had paralleled that first dream of family. We did have two children and one child with special needs -- only our biological child was the one with a special gift of autism. God had prepared our hearts as only He could do. And He helped me overcome my own fears and prejudices for those with special gifts as well =)
Jeremy does have some mental challenges which was something I didn't want to have to deal with. Along the way I have learned patience, trust and have steadily gained strength from our Creator to move forward year after year. God has enabled both Rick and I to walk with confidence and purpose as we seek the best treatments and therapies for our special son. And He provided us with both Megan and Rebekah -- the very best sisters for Jeremy in this whole wide world. For the gift of these three children I am eternally grateful. Who would have known that the seeds for our family would have been placed in my heart even before we were married?
"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
One evening we walked from my little apartment to a tiny street-side park. Located on one of the corners of a very busy intersection, cars were zipping by, but Rick and I didn't hear them. We only had ears from one another. (Aww, love is bliss =) There were comfortable benches arranged around a beautiful water fountain. Our wedding was just months away and our conversation had turned to long-range plans for our future as husband and wife, then later, as a daddy and mommy.
"Rick, I would like three children," I said, "I'd like to have two biological children and adopt one child with special needs." Having seen other nurses at Children's Mercy adopt children who needed families to love and care for them, I thought it would be something I'd like to do, too. I pictured bringing home a small child who was either blind or deaf -- simpler challenges, I thought. I recall thinking to myself that almost any special need would be fine, but that I did NOT want to bring home a child with mental retardation or similar mental deficit. "No way!" I thought to myself. "I'd never be able to hand that!"
I was wary of people with mental retardation. As a child I'd been scared by the actions of one of our neighbor's daughter who happened to have Down's Syndrome. During my childhood years, the 1960's, children with special needs were just seldom seen. In school they were tucked away in special education classrooms -- an almost forgotten group of people. Words like inclusion, acceptance and diversity weren't talked about. My limited experience with those having special needs had created confusion and fear.
Fast forward ten years at which time our family was complete -- our quiver was full, so to speak. Rick and I had birthed two children into this world, and later had adopted a little baby girl. One day I thought about my original declaration about children which I'd expressed to Rick so long ago that one fine summer night before we were married. I marveled at how closely our lives had paralleled that first dream of family. We did have two children and one child with special needs -- only our biological child was the one with a special gift of autism. God had prepared our hearts as only He could do. And He helped me overcome my own fears and prejudices for those with special gifts as well =)
Jeremy does have some mental challenges which was something I didn't want to have to deal with. Along the way I have learned patience, trust and have steadily gained strength from our Creator to move forward year after year. God has enabled both Rick and I to walk with confidence and purpose as we seek the best treatments and therapies for our special son. And He provided us with both Megan and Rebekah -- the very best sisters for Jeremy in this whole wide world. For the gift of these three children I am eternally grateful. Who would have known that the seeds for our family would have been placed in my heart even before we were married?
"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Sleep Paralysis
"Be alert and of sober mind for the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour ..." 1 Peter 5:8
"Therefore God exalted him (Jesus) to the highest place and gave Him the name that is above every name." Philippians 2:9
My father died the very last day of July, 2002. He was a loving, good-hearted man with multiple health issues. For many years he'd suffered from a variety of ailments -- heart valve leakage, myoclonic jerk disorder, diverticulitis, depression, and so on. When he died our family was sad, yet relieved. I had no doubt that my dad had ascended to heaven -- but that's for another blog.
I remember standing by Dad's casket looking down at his deceased body. Dad had become a true believer in Christ after he'd suffered a sort of mid-life crisis twenty-five years earlier. As the years went by I watched my dad pray more, read the bible more and find a sense of contentment for his position in life. More than once I witnessed Dad praying beside his bed -- on his knees.
As I stood looking at my dad as he lay in the casket there was a subtle shift in my spirit that's hard to describe. I remember sensing this mantle-like cloak settling down upon my shoulders. "As your father prayed, so shall you," whispered a gentle, quiet voice into my ears. I shuddered. "NO, I don't want it!" I thought. "He suffered so much ... and I don't want to suffer like my dad!" Shrugging it off, I turned to sit with my family as the service began.
Following the funeral our family was invited to spend some time with friends at their house on Lake of the Ozarks, mom included. So off the six of us went for a weekend of sunshine and relaxation. It was a very strange time for all of us. We enjoyed jet skiing, tubing behind their speed boat and floating on rafts around their dock. Our family spent this time reflecting on Dad's death and our future. It was a bittersweet time for all of us. I missed my dad. We were very close. I could talk to my dad about almost anything.
Rick and I went to bed after tucking both Megan and Jeremy in for the night. It was a splendid house and our bedroom overlooked the beautiful lake. Swiftly I drifted to sleep amid a sense of peace and gratefulness for this time away.
Sometime later I woke up but found myself unable to move. It was the strangest sensation -- like a huge pillow-body was lying across me. I frantically searched the room but didn't see anyone or anything. It was like I was awake, but a little asleep, too. Trying to speak proved difficult as all I could manage was a small croak, "Help." No success in waking Rick, I tried again. "Help, me!" I managed to squeak one more time. The oppressive weight was slowly sinking into my chest and I found myself struggling for breath. "Am I dying!?" I wondered.
Suddenly I heard that still, small, gentle voice that I'd heard at my dad's funeral say, "Call out for Jesus. His name is more powerful than all."
"Okay, I'll do it," I thought to myself. So with a firm resolve I took in as much air as I could muster and hoarsely belted out, "Jesus!!!" Immediately the heaviness of pillow-man lifted and I sensed this spirit of oppression leave the room. I had managed to scream the name of Jesus so loudly that Rick woke up only to find me sitting straight-up! Imagine Rick's surprise to have been awakened so abruptly in the middle of the night!
I don't know how I fell to sleep after such an exhausting fight, but I seemed to drift off to sleep with relative ease. In the morning I woke with vivid memories of this night time incident and grew trouble. Visible shaken, I shared what had happened to me with our friends. I was stunned by my friend's response, "I've experienced that before, too."
Ten years later I can still recall that night with vivid detail. It was a valuable lesson for me and I've only shared this story with a few people until now. I learned that the name of Jesus is more powerful than any name in all the heavens and the earth. And I learned God sometimes allows us to experience oppressing times while on earth -- for a variety of reasons. I believe that God was allowing me to see that evil would try to thwart my plans and possibly even try to do harm to me at times. But God clearly is in control.
Now, when I am afraid or going through difficult times (especially emotional times) I will sometimes just say the name "Jesus" aloud. It's amazing how quickly the mood of the room will change.
And, I have become a woman of prayer ... no longer afraid, but strong in the name of Christ Jesus. Amen.
"Therefore God exalted him (Jesus) to the highest place and gave Him the name that is above every name." Philippians 2:9
My father died the very last day of July, 2002. He was a loving, good-hearted man with multiple health issues. For many years he'd suffered from a variety of ailments -- heart valve leakage, myoclonic jerk disorder, diverticulitis, depression, and so on. When he died our family was sad, yet relieved. I had no doubt that my dad had ascended to heaven -- but that's for another blog.
I remember standing by Dad's casket looking down at his deceased body. Dad had become a true believer in Christ after he'd suffered a sort of mid-life crisis twenty-five years earlier. As the years went by I watched my dad pray more, read the bible more and find a sense of contentment for his position in life. More than once I witnessed Dad praying beside his bed -- on his knees.
As I stood looking at my dad as he lay in the casket there was a subtle shift in my spirit that's hard to describe. I remember sensing this mantle-like cloak settling down upon my shoulders. "As your father prayed, so shall you," whispered a gentle, quiet voice into my ears. I shuddered. "NO, I don't want it!" I thought. "He suffered so much ... and I don't want to suffer like my dad!" Shrugging it off, I turned to sit with my family as the service began.
Following the funeral our family was invited to spend some time with friends at their house on Lake of the Ozarks, mom included. So off the six of us went for a weekend of sunshine and relaxation. It was a very strange time for all of us. We enjoyed jet skiing, tubing behind their speed boat and floating on rafts around their dock. Our family spent this time reflecting on Dad's death and our future. It was a bittersweet time for all of us. I missed my dad. We were very close. I could talk to my dad about almost anything.
Rick and I went to bed after tucking both Megan and Jeremy in for the night. It was a splendid house and our bedroom overlooked the beautiful lake. Swiftly I drifted to sleep amid a sense of peace and gratefulness for this time away.
Sometime later I woke up but found myself unable to move. It was the strangest sensation -- like a huge pillow-body was lying across me. I frantically searched the room but didn't see anyone or anything. It was like I was awake, but a little asleep, too. Trying to speak proved difficult as all I could manage was a small croak, "Help." No success in waking Rick, I tried again. "Help, me!" I managed to squeak one more time. The oppressive weight was slowly sinking into my chest and I found myself struggling for breath. "Am I dying!?" I wondered.
Suddenly I heard that still, small, gentle voice that I'd heard at my dad's funeral say, "Call out for Jesus. His name is more powerful than all."
"Okay, I'll do it," I thought to myself. So with a firm resolve I took in as much air as I could muster and hoarsely belted out, "Jesus!!!" Immediately the heaviness of pillow-man lifted and I sensed this spirit of oppression leave the room. I had managed to scream the name of Jesus so loudly that Rick woke up only to find me sitting straight-up! Imagine Rick's surprise to have been awakened so abruptly in the middle of the night!
I don't know how I fell to sleep after such an exhausting fight, but I seemed to drift off to sleep with relative ease. In the morning I woke with vivid memories of this night time incident and grew trouble. Visible shaken, I shared what had happened to me with our friends. I was stunned by my friend's response, "I've experienced that before, too."
Ten years later I can still recall that night with vivid detail. It was a valuable lesson for me and I've only shared this story with a few people until now. I learned that the name of Jesus is more powerful than any name in all the heavens and the earth. And I learned God sometimes allows us to experience oppressing times while on earth -- for a variety of reasons. I believe that God was allowing me to see that evil would try to thwart my plans and possibly even try to do harm to me at times. But God clearly is in control.
Now, when I am afraid or going through difficult times (especially emotional times) I will sometimes just say the name "Jesus" aloud. It's amazing how quickly the mood of the room will change.
And, I have become a woman of prayer ... no longer afraid, but strong in the name of Christ Jesus. Amen.
Tuesday, July 31, 2012
Taco Bell Story -- Jeremy
I've told my "Taco Bell" story multiple times over the years -- to school teachers, to young adults who have worked with Jeremy, to my friends and so on. My story begins in the year 1996 when our family was driving to St. Louis to see a specialist who would help us recover Jeremy from his disability of autism.
Jeremy was almost four years old when he was finally diagnosed. He was profoundly affected and considered severe by the doctor's standards. For the first couple of years we had Jeremy placed in a developmental preschool which meant that I drove 45 minutes to and from our house on a daily basis. It was wearying and time-consuming.
Although the occupational and speech therapists at this preschool did their best, I knew there was something non-traditional that needed to be done to better help our little boy. While visiting with another parent one afternoon I learned of a company called "National Academy for Child Development" that specialized in improving children's potential for learning. After much prayer, we decided to enlist the support of NACD to help recover our son.
On this particular day our family was traveling to St. Louis for our first visit with Bob Doman, Founder and Neurodevelopmentalist for NACD. Working with NACD would be costly and require extensive daily therapy at home, but we knew that NACD would be able to tap into Jeremy's dormant potential. I prayed that God would make it clear by giving me a 'vision' of where Jeremy could aspire to be. I knew that it would be important for us to believe that Jeremy could make significant progress given the right structure and plan.
Midway between St. Louis and Kansas City is the small town of Boonville, Missouri. A Taco Bell sits along the highway. Rick suggested tacos for lunch; although surprised with his suggestion, we soon found ourselves walking into this restaurant. Rick took Megan to the front counter to order while I whisked Jeremy to the bathrooms.
Many children with autism suffer strange fears and unusual behaviors -- our little Jeremy was no different =( The past several weeks had been difficult because Jeremy was showing great fear of the toilet seats. In an effort to alleviate fears our little boy would stand two to three feet away -- which wasn't optimal for many reasons. My voice became firm as I coached and gently pushed Jeremy forward. Jeremy howled and wailed like someone being torn away from his beloved blanket. "NO!" he yelled, "No!" Even more firmly I coached Jeremy until finally the deed was done. Jeremy and I wearily bolted from the restroom only to find the few restaurant gatherers staring with horrified expressions as we exited the restrooms.
With a questioning look, Rick took both children to the car while I finished placing the order. While waiting I took notice of the young employee who'd taken our order. He was fidgeting with his little black tie with a look of slight anxiety in his eyes. There were just three of us waiting for our orders. "Do you want to know why our son was screaming in the bathroom?" I blurted out to the employee standing in front of me. "Now where did that come from?!" I wondered. Again, "Do you want to know why our son was screaming in the bathroom?" I insistently pursued. "Well, sure," was his reply with a shrug of his shoulders. The other two gentlemen leaned in to hear as well.
"Well, our son has autism and he's going through a fear of the toilet seats right now," I began. "I have to be firm so that he'll get over this fear. One can't be afraid of toilet seats all their lives," I stammered on. Everyone took on a look of "Oh, yeah. I get it," then settled back into their usual places. But the young employee sort of smiled sadly and said to me, "I have autism, too."
I'd never met an adult with autism before. What a revelation to see a young man standing before me who was clearly able to work, to converse and understand relationships! After a few exchanges I learned that he'd attended regular public schools, still lived at home and was now working at Taco Bell. He hoped to move into an apartment of his own very soon. It was a balm to my soul to see someone who'd so obviously recovered from the debilitating disability of autism. There were little signs of his disability, as I reflected later, but none so obvious for the casual eye to observe.
As I walked to our parked car with our sack of tacos, it suddenly dawned on me that this not-so-chance of a meeting was a divine answer from God to me. He was giving me a glimpse of who Jeremy could become -- a functioning member of society with the capacity to know others, including his Creator. My heart swelled with gratitude and I resolved to always expect great things from Jeremy. I would share this story many times over the years to ensure that others would expect the same.
Once again, God had proven Himself to be faithful. I am reminded of the bible verse that says, "I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel and watch over you." Psalm 32:8. Throughout the years God has consistently laid before us various therapies and opportunities for Jeremy. It has not been an easy road, but it has been rewarding to see Jeremy's progress since those early years of severe autism.
Jeremy is now twenty years old. He is able to communicate functionally, not so well, socially. Jeremy now works for a company that puts medical kits together for a local laboratory. It is repetitive work, but one that Jeremy seems to enjoy. Jeremy is considered moderately high-functioning at this point. Living alone is not an option, but we are still hopeful. Recently I found a website that helps build and restore brain cells. It was recommended to me by two people within a short window of time. Jeremy loves working these computer games -- and, I plan to register myself next month =)
For more information on NACD and Lumosity, please see these websites:
National Academy for Child Development (www.nacd.org)
Lumosity (www.lumosity.com)
Jeremy was almost four years old when he was finally diagnosed. He was profoundly affected and considered severe by the doctor's standards. For the first couple of years we had Jeremy placed in a developmental preschool which meant that I drove 45 minutes to and from our house on a daily basis. It was wearying and time-consuming.
Although the occupational and speech therapists at this preschool did their best, I knew there was something non-traditional that needed to be done to better help our little boy. While visiting with another parent one afternoon I learned of a company called "National Academy for Child Development" that specialized in improving children's potential for learning. After much prayer, we decided to enlist the support of NACD to help recover our son.
On this particular day our family was traveling to St. Louis for our first visit with Bob Doman, Founder and Neurodevelopmentalist for NACD. Working with NACD would be costly and require extensive daily therapy at home, but we knew that NACD would be able to tap into Jeremy's dormant potential. I prayed that God would make it clear by giving me a 'vision' of where Jeremy could aspire to be. I knew that it would be important for us to believe that Jeremy could make significant progress given the right structure and plan.
Midway between St. Louis and Kansas City is the small town of Boonville, Missouri. A Taco Bell sits along the highway. Rick suggested tacos for lunch; although surprised with his suggestion, we soon found ourselves walking into this restaurant. Rick took Megan to the front counter to order while I whisked Jeremy to the bathrooms.
Many children with autism suffer strange fears and unusual behaviors -- our little Jeremy was no different =( The past several weeks had been difficult because Jeremy was showing great fear of the toilet seats. In an effort to alleviate fears our little boy would stand two to three feet away -- which wasn't optimal for many reasons. My voice became firm as I coached and gently pushed Jeremy forward. Jeremy howled and wailed like someone being torn away from his beloved blanket. "NO!" he yelled, "No!" Even more firmly I coached Jeremy until finally the deed was done. Jeremy and I wearily bolted from the restroom only to find the few restaurant gatherers staring with horrified expressions as we exited the restrooms.
With a questioning look, Rick took both children to the car while I finished placing the order. While waiting I took notice of the young employee who'd taken our order. He was fidgeting with his little black tie with a look of slight anxiety in his eyes. There were just three of us waiting for our orders. "Do you want to know why our son was screaming in the bathroom?" I blurted out to the employee standing in front of me. "Now where did that come from?!" I wondered. Again, "Do you want to know why our son was screaming in the bathroom?" I insistently pursued. "Well, sure," was his reply with a shrug of his shoulders. The other two gentlemen leaned in to hear as well.
"Well, our son has autism and he's going through a fear of the toilet seats right now," I began. "I have to be firm so that he'll get over this fear. One can't be afraid of toilet seats all their lives," I stammered on. Everyone took on a look of "Oh, yeah. I get it," then settled back into their usual places. But the young employee sort of smiled sadly and said to me, "I have autism, too."
I'd never met an adult with autism before. What a revelation to see a young man standing before me who was clearly able to work, to converse and understand relationships! After a few exchanges I learned that he'd attended regular public schools, still lived at home and was now working at Taco Bell. He hoped to move into an apartment of his own very soon. It was a balm to my soul to see someone who'd so obviously recovered from the debilitating disability of autism. There were little signs of his disability, as I reflected later, but none so obvious for the casual eye to observe.
As I walked to our parked car with our sack of tacos, it suddenly dawned on me that this not-so-chance of a meeting was a divine answer from God to me. He was giving me a glimpse of who Jeremy could become -- a functioning member of society with the capacity to know others, including his Creator. My heart swelled with gratitude and I resolved to always expect great things from Jeremy. I would share this story many times over the years to ensure that others would expect the same.
Once again, God had proven Himself to be faithful. I am reminded of the bible verse that says, "I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel and watch over you." Psalm 32:8. Throughout the years God has consistently laid before us various therapies and opportunities for Jeremy. It has not been an easy road, but it has been rewarding to see Jeremy's progress since those early years of severe autism.
Jeremy is now twenty years old. He is able to communicate functionally, not so well, socially. Jeremy now works for a company that puts medical kits together for a local laboratory. It is repetitive work, but one that Jeremy seems to enjoy. Jeremy is considered moderately high-functioning at this point. Living alone is not an option, but we are still hopeful. Recently I found a website that helps build and restore brain cells. It was recommended to me by two people within a short window of time. Jeremy loves working these computer games -- and, I plan to register myself next month =)
For more information on NACD and Lumosity, please see these websites:
National Academy for Child Development (www.nacd.org)
Lumosity (www.lumosity.com)
Sunday, July 15, 2012
Megan's Eye Troubles
I come from a long line of worriers. As a teenager I vowed not to carry on the family tradition and was fairly successful at this -- until the birth of our first child, precious and adorable, Megan.
As Megan grew through her toddler years and into early childhood, I began to understand the part of life that included worry. Although I was a pediatric nurse at Children's Mercy Hospital, I didn't know much about common childhood ailments. Most of my nursing skills resolved around really sick children with cancer.
Watching Megan struggle through common illnesses, I became an innate worrier. To keep myself grounded, I would call my closest friends and asked them questions.
Then one morning three year old Megan asked, "Mommy, why do I see two of you?"
I was helping Megan buckle her pretty white patent leather shoes so we could soon leave for church. "What?!" I asked with stunned clarity and an escalating heartbeat. "Mommy, I see two of you. One right there, and one right there," she said while pointing her little finger to two unseen spaces in front of her. I leaned back to get a good look at her eyes. Sure enough, her right eye was veering inward. Survival mode kicked in as I fought to control the panic cycle within my heart. I'd taken care of lots of children who had vision issues related to their brain tumors.
It didn't take long to place a telephone call to our pediatrician. He didn't express much concern because Megan wasn't showing any other symptoms besides one crossed eye. She wasn't walking lop-sided, falling down or showing signs of nausea. In fact, Megan was happy as usual =) But I still worried. "What if ..., " kept pulsing through my mind. With a heavy heart I waited for Monday morning to arrive when Megan could be seen by a physician. Throughout the night I prayed and prayed and prayed, still worrying about the possibility of Megan battling a brain tumor.
The next day Megan was examined by a renowned children's eye specialist and later that day underwent a MRI of the head. We were sent us home with the promise of news within a couple of days and Megan was put on an antibiotic for a stuffy nose and cough that she'd had for more than a week. That night I tried hard to pretend that nothing was amiss, but inside I felt confused, scared and ... still worried.
It was almost midnight when we received the good news that Megan's MRI was normal. The doctor wasn't sure why Megan's eyes were turning inward, but thought it might be related to sinusitis that hadn't been diagnosed (pressure from the sinuses on the nerve that moves the eye). She wondered if the antibiotic had reduced the swelling of Megan's sinuses so that the optic nerves were no longer being pressured. No one knew for sure. But it certainly was good news was that Megan's wayward eye was no longer veering to the right! I was relieved and grateful for God's provision.
Almost exactly one year later it happened, again. Only this time I wasn't as scared. I'd been down this path before and realized that my worry did nothing to ease the pain of uncertainty. Once more Megan's eye returned to normal after being given an antibiotic. From then on we would be more wise and cautious about watching for signs of sinusitis. To date, Megan hasn't wrestled with this condition for a third time, although she still tilts her head slightly to the right when she watches television.
As the years have passed, our family has battled various health issues and injuries. It hasn't been easy and I will admit, sometimes I regress and worry. But I work hard to maintain an inner peace during times of stress or concern. It's easy for me to slip back into the worry-mentality. I still talk to my friends when feeling the need to be 'grounded'. I try to remember that my worry doesn't help, and, in fact, often makes the situation even more difficult to bear.
The one thing that helps me is to pray unceasingly through those stressful or painful situations that present themselves. As I pray, I lay claim one very special Bible verse:
"So do not fear, for I am with you; Do not be dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you and help you; and I will uphold you with My righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10.
... and in time, I usually feel better.
As Megan grew through her toddler years and into early childhood, I began to understand the part of life that included worry. Although I was a pediatric nurse at Children's Mercy Hospital, I didn't know much about common childhood ailments. Most of my nursing skills resolved around really sick children with cancer.
Watching Megan struggle through common illnesses, I became an innate worrier. To keep myself grounded, I would call my closest friends and asked them questions.
Then one morning three year old Megan asked, "Mommy, why do I see two of you?"
I was helping Megan buckle her pretty white patent leather shoes so we could soon leave for church. "What?!" I asked with stunned clarity and an escalating heartbeat. "Mommy, I see two of you. One right there, and one right there," she said while pointing her little finger to two unseen spaces in front of her. I leaned back to get a good look at her eyes. Sure enough, her right eye was veering inward. Survival mode kicked in as I fought to control the panic cycle within my heart. I'd taken care of lots of children who had vision issues related to their brain tumors.
It didn't take long to place a telephone call to our pediatrician. He didn't express much concern because Megan wasn't showing any other symptoms besides one crossed eye. She wasn't walking lop-sided, falling down or showing signs of nausea. In fact, Megan was happy as usual =) But I still worried. "What if ..., " kept pulsing through my mind. With a heavy heart I waited for Monday morning to arrive when Megan could be seen by a physician. Throughout the night I prayed and prayed and prayed, still worrying about the possibility of Megan battling a brain tumor.
The next day Megan was examined by a renowned children's eye specialist and later that day underwent a MRI of the head. We were sent us home with the promise of news within a couple of days and Megan was put on an antibiotic for a stuffy nose and cough that she'd had for more than a week. That night I tried hard to pretend that nothing was amiss, but inside I felt confused, scared and ... still worried.
It was almost midnight when we received the good news that Megan's MRI was normal. The doctor wasn't sure why Megan's eyes were turning inward, but thought it might be related to sinusitis that hadn't been diagnosed (pressure from the sinuses on the nerve that moves the eye). She wondered if the antibiotic had reduced the swelling of Megan's sinuses so that the optic nerves were no longer being pressured. No one knew for sure. But it certainly was good news was that Megan's wayward eye was no longer veering to the right! I was relieved and grateful for God's provision.
Almost exactly one year later it happened, again. Only this time I wasn't as scared. I'd been down this path before and realized that my worry did nothing to ease the pain of uncertainty. Once more Megan's eye returned to normal after being given an antibiotic. From then on we would be more wise and cautious about watching for signs of sinusitis. To date, Megan hasn't wrestled with this condition for a third time, although she still tilts her head slightly to the right when she watches television.
As the years have passed, our family has battled various health issues and injuries. It hasn't been easy and I will admit, sometimes I regress and worry. But I work hard to maintain an inner peace during times of stress or concern. It's easy for me to slip back into the worry-mentality. I still talk to my friends when feeling the need to be 'grounded'. I try to remember that my worry doesn't help, and, in fact, often makes the situation even more difficult to bear.
The one thing that helps me is to pray unceasingly through those stressful or painful situations that present themselves. As I pray, I lay claim one very special Bible verse:
"So do not fear, for I am with you; Do not be dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you and help you; and I will uphold you with My righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10.
... and in time, I usually feel better.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
Scary Dog Story
"Let your eyes look directly forward, and your gaze be straight before you." Proverbs 4:25
Many years ago, when I used to run for exercise, I found myself running along the country road leading away from Camp Barnabas early one morning. I watched a few counselors running ahead of me. About a quarter of a mile out of camp I spied a large, ferocious-looking dog run from it's perch on a dilapidated farmhouse porch and growl menacingly while nipping at one counselor's heels. This young man kicked the dog away, but steadfastly kept running at his regular pace. The dog continued his pursuit until the two young men were beyond the fence boundaries of the farm.
My heart began racing as I envisioned this menacing farm dog literally tearing my legs off my body! By nature I am afraid of dogs bigger than, say, a small Bichon. So this aggressive canine was just too much for me to handle! Without skipping a beat I abruptly turned around and began running a little more quickly back to camp. "No way am I gonna face that dog," I thought to myself.
As I neared the entrance to camp I noticed other small groups of counselors leaving for their early morning run. I wondered how they would fare as they ran past the dog. Curious, I turned around to watch how others reacted to the growling dog. Amazingly these separate two-somes and three-somes just kept jogging -- mostly without missing a step and with little attention to their aggressor. "How can that be?!" I wondered aloud.
Then suddenly it dawned on me. They had kept their eyes on their target destination. Perhaps they glanced at the dog, but most of these runners paid little attention to their aggressor -- and just kept running. "Aha! That's the answer," I thought to myself. "I'll keep my eyes focused on my target destination and I won't even glance at the growling dog." Then a still small voice seem to whisper, "If these people can make it beyond the farmhouse, then so can you! Keep your eyes on your final destination. And ignore the distractions along the way -- including the scary ones."
I resolved to do the same and turned around once more. This time I focused on a distant silo -- my turn-around point -- and began jogging in a slow and steady pace. As you can imagine my heart began beating faster and my palms became sweaty as I approached the farmhouse. I continued to jog toward the silo, then, ever so slowly ran beyond the farmhouse. Steadfastly I jogged forward without looking to the right or the left. My eyes were zeroed in on that silo in the distance. I heard the dog barking as he ran onto this country road. He seemed to jump from my left side to my right side with reckless abandon. "Will I ever get beyond this house?!" my mind screamed. I kept going for what seemed like an eternity.
As quickly as the dog appeared, he disappeared. I kept jogging I reached that silo, then, resolutely began my return home -- instinctively knowing that it would be a little easier this time. My heart still sped up a little and my palms still turned sweaty, but not to the degree that I'd experienced earlier. When I returned to camp I put away my sneakers and didn't run for the rest of the week! Only later did I process and think about this experience. I learned that ...
Many years ago, when I used to run for exercise, I found myself running along the country road leading away from Camp Barnabas early one morning. I watched a few counselors running ahead of me. About a quarter of a mile out of camp I spied a large, ferocious-looking dog run from it's perch on a dilapidated farmhouse porch and growl menacingly while nipping at one counselor's heels. This young man kicked the dog away, but steadfastly kept running at his regular pace. The dog continued his pursuit until the two young men were beyond the fence boundaries of the farm.
My heart began racing as I envisioned this menacing farm dog literally tearing my legs off my body! By nature I am afraid of dogs bigger than, say, a small Bichon. So this aggressive canine was just too much for me to handle! Without skipping a beat I abruptly turned around and began running a little more quickly back to camp. "No way am I gonna face that dog," I thought to myself.
As I neared the entrance to camp I noticed other small groups of counselors leaving for their early morning run. I wondered how they would fare as they ran past the dog. Curious, I turned around to watch how others reacted to the growling dog. Amazingly these separate two-somes and three-somes just kept jogging -- mostly without missing a step and with little attention to their aggressor. "How can that be?!" I wondered aloud.
Then suddenly it dawned on me. They had kept their eyes on their target destination. Perhaps they glanced at the dog, but most of these runners paid little attention to their aggressor -- and just kept running. "Aha! That's the answer," I thought to myself. "I'll keep my eyes focused on my target destination and I won't even glance at the growling dog." Then a still small voice seem to whisper, "If these people can make it beyond the farmhouse, then so can you! Keep your eyes on your final destination. And ignore the distractions along the way -- including the scary ones."
I resolved to do the same and turned around once more. This time I focused on a distant silo -- my turn-around point -- and began jogging in a slow and steady pace. As you can imagine my heart began beating faster and my palms became sweaty as I approached the farmhouse. I continued to jog toward the silo, then, ever so slowly ran beyond the farmhouse. Steadfastly I jogged forward without looking to the right or the left. My eyes were zeroed in on that silo in the distance. I heard the dog barking as he ran onto this country road. He seemed to jump from my left side to my right side with reckless abandon. "Will I ever get beyond this house?!" my mind screamed. I kept going for what seemed like an eternity.
As quickly as the dog appeared, he disappeared. I kept jogging I reached that silo, then, resolutely began my return home -- instinctively knowing that it would be a little easier this time. My heart still sped up a little and my palms still turned sweaty, but not to the degree that I'd experienced earlier. When I returned to camp I put away my sneakers and didn't run for the rest of the week! Only later did I process and think about this experience. I learned that ...
- It's best to focus on our destination rather than on the scary distractions that can pop-up along the way;
- We learn by watching others walk through difficult situations and scary times;
- Others learn from watching us walk through difficult situations and scary times;
- Courage is a force of will that can be learned;
- And, sometimes a step of faith if necessary to complete one's journey.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
New Friendships
One balmy, August morning, I wearily climbed down from the school bus and traipsed into our junior high school gymnasium. Along with others from my bus, I ambled into the gymnasium while scanning for friends. Because it was so early in the morning, there was usually very little chatter until we ultimately reached our destination -- school. It was a time to socialize, flirt and preen before others ~~ as 7th graders, the bottom of the barrel in junior high school.
For almost a week now I had endured this change from elementary to junior high school. Exciting at first, it became more socially challenging as I worked to establish myself into the hierarchy of seventh grade student life. After all, there were so many more people to meet and get to know. I wondered where would I fit. I really didn't feel a part of any specific crowd.
Throughout most of grade school I had been a part of a trio of friends in our little elementary school. We three had many things in common like Girl Scouts, dance lessons, sleepovers and camp- outs. But now I was watching my three best friends stand in a huddle with a group of other girls ~~ a new group was evolving. For some reason I no longer felt comfortable around my old friends, nor did I feel capable of cracking into what I viewed as their inner sanctum. Truth be told, I was tired of trying to fit in these last couple of weeks in junior high. Brushing past the satellite groups of people standing on the gymnasium floor I resolutely climbed the steps of the bleachers to sit alone. It was in that time of solitude that I made the conscious decision to make new friends -- friends with whom I would feel comfortable and accepted.
The next week I climbed onto my school bus and scanned the crowd for a seat. I spotted a girl from my old elementary school sitting with an open seat beside her, so I asked if we could sit together. "Sure," she quipped, and a friendship took root that day that has lasted more than 40 years. Looking back I see that moment as being pivotal in my life. I learned quickly how to make friends and to have confidence in myself as a friend. To this day it is always a treasure for me to learn about others, and that's exactly how I went about making friends with Robin. I took it upon myself to learn about my new friend, and she began to learn about me. We shared, giggled and laughed our way through six years of being the very best of friends.
Robin helped me gain confidence in myself. She taught me how to be comfortable with all sorts of people. Together we made all sorts of new friends. I understood loyalty in a precious new light as Robin stood by me again and again despite my many flaws. The end of our high school years brought some separation when life took us in different directions.
As Megan and Rebekah have each entered their formative years I have used this story to help them understand the importance of being able to make new friends while maintaining your older friendships. I have tried to teach them to be comfortable with the friends they choose. It seems to be very important for seventh and eight grade girls to want to be thought as as pretty, fashionable and popular with someone or some group of friends. There certainly was nothing wrong with the girls with whom I parted company. Some remained friends as we continued to share extracurricular activities together. It was simply time for me to make new friends ~~ for a new season in life.
God brings friends into our lives for different seasons and reasons. Since that time in seventh grade I've had many friends -- some have stayed with me for a very long time, others have moved on depending upon the stages of our lives. It has been a pleasure getting to know so many other people in my lifetime. I feel blessed to have made some very precious friends who have supported and loved me throughout the years.
For almost a week now I had endured this change from elementary to junior high school. Exciting at first, it became more socially challenging as I worked to establish myself into the hierarchy of seventh grade student life. After all, there were so many more people to meet and get to know. I wondered where would I fit. I really didn't feel a part of any specific crowd.
Throughout most of grade school I had been a part of a trio of friends in our little elementary school. We three had many things in common like Girl Scouts, dance lessons, sleepovers and camp- outs. But now I was watching my three best friends stand in a huddle with a group of other girls ~~ a new group was evolving. For some reason I no longer felt comfortable around my old friends, nor did I feel capable of cracking into what I viewed as their inner sanctum. Truth be told, I was tired of trying to fit in these last couple of weeks in junior high. Brushing past the satellite groups of people standing on the gymnasium floor I resolutely climbed the steps of the bleachers to sit alone. It was in that time of solitude that I made the conscious decision to make new friends -- friends with whom I would feel comfortable and accepted.
The next week I climbed onto my school bus and scanned the crowd for a seat. I spotted a girl from my old elementary school sitting with an open seat beside her, so I asked if we could sit together. "Sure," she quipped, and a friendship took root that day that has lasted more than 40 years. Looking back I see that moment as being pivotal in my life. I learned quickly how to make friends and to have confidence in myself as a friend. To this day it is always a treasure for me to learn about others, and that's exactly how I went about making friends with Robin. I took it upon myself to learn about my new friend, and she began to learn about me. We shared, giggled and laughed our way through six years of being the very best of friends.
Robin helped me gain confidence in myself. She taught me how to be comfortable with all sorts of people. Together we made all sorts of new friends. I understood loyalty in a precious new light as Robin stood by me again and again despite my many flaws. The end of our high school years brought some separation when life took us in different directions.
As Megan and Rebekah have each entered their formative years I have used this story to help them understand the importance of being able to make new friends while maintaining your older friendships. I have tried to teach them to be comfortable with the friends they choose. It seems to be very important for seventh and eight grade girls to want to be thought as as pretty, fashionable and popular with someone or some group of friends. There certainly was nothing wrong with the girls with whom I parted company. Some remained friends as we continued to share extracurricular activities together. It was simply time for me to make new friends ~~ for a new season in life.
God brings friends into our lives for different seasons and reasons. Since that time in seventh grade I've had many friends -- some have stayed with me for a very long time, others have moved on depending upon the stages of our lives. It has been a pleasure getting to know so many other people in my lifetime. I feel blessed to have made some very precious friends who have supported and loved me throughout the years.
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