It was freezing, and the wind was wicked. I had been invited to a high school football game, and in spite of the fact that it had been years since I had been to a football game, I decided to go. Especially since the guy inviting me had been one of my good friends throughout high school - more so, my senior year.
It was Burke County versus Thomson, November 2011. Burke was on a roll and this was one of the biggest games of the year. I dressed in my blue and black, convinced a friend to go with me, and off we went, to brave the cold at one of the wildest high school games I'd ever been to.
It was frigid.
I caught a glimpse of Sean as he was leaving the field and he shouted a quick hello. And then he disappeared, blending in with his team. "He looks exactly like he did in high school," my friend said.
Yes, he did.
The Burke County Bears won that night. It was my first taste of the excitement of watching a team that plays to win. These boys were bad. The coaches were bad - the head coach being a hall of famer. And, the more I looked, the assistant coach was pretty good looking himself.
Because my divorce was not yet final, Sean and I agreed that we would not see each other until it was. I knew in my heart it was wrong to even entertain the idea of dating before the divorce was complete, and Lord knows, I didn't want to do anything to jeopardize my morals and especially my time with Miles.
And then, it was final. And I think the first time we really hung out was at a wedding. He was a groomsman, I was just an innocent bystander. I had no idea what I was in for. That night we talked and laughed and just enjoyed ourselves. It was really the first time I had fun in months. Months after realizing that I was drowning in my tears, and my daughter was suffering from my sadness.
Miles first birthday party and baptismal day was that December. The night before, Sean's team played at the Georgia Dome for the state championship. Decked from head to toe in my blue and black and cowboy boots, I watched his boys take State. I couldn't have been happier for him. I'm not sure I've ever had so much fun. Running down onto the field, grabbing a quick kiss, I knew I could get used to being in his big arms.
I drove home from Atlanta that night on a high. I was so excited. Finally excited about life.
That was the start of a great year. Sean built me up from a 90 lb. skeleton, into a 110 lb woman who loved herself, took care of herself, and valued trust and family again. We went walking every day, worked out together and he got me on a protein regimen. The scars of a failed marriage were starting to fade.
Miles would go with us on our daily walks, she getting used to Sean and Sean getting used to her. She loved him, and he was slowly falling in love with her. How could you not love that sweet baby?
And then, one day, I knew that Miles and I could no longer live with my parents, or my grandparents. As much as I love them, I knew that she and I had to build a life together on our own. I began searching for an apartment, when Sean offered us his home. I couldn't believe it. What man would offer a girl he'd only been dating for 3 months his home, and move back in with his parents? He paid the mortgage, he paid the bills, and Miles and I began to rebuild. I was completely moved by his generosity and willingness to put my daughter and I ahead of himself.
He truly loved us. Miles learned to sleep in a big girl bed in his house (although most nights she slept with me). And I loved him for that.
That May, we were walking around the track, just he and I. I could tell he was nervous and something was on his mind. He walked ahead of me and we sat on a bench together.
And he got on one knee. Inside a green box was my great-grandmothers wedding ring, that had been completely restored. The ring that I had always wanted, the meaning more beautiful than the diamonds themselves. Almost 15 years after first meeting this man, I was engaged to him. I didn't say yes without reservation though. I have to admit that I was scared out of my mind.
But Sean eased it. He did everything to erase those reservations. He would get off from work, and would meet me at his house. I would cook or he, Miles and I would go to dinner. We would both say prayers with Miles, and then he would leave, knowing he couldn't be there after she was in bed. I have to say, Sean and I did everything right when it came to that precious child. And I just knew.
There were times when I would get down, and grief would rear it's ugly head. Sean always had my back. He never judged my tears, never chastised my hurt. He only wiped them away.
We made it through another exciting Burke County football season, this time only making it to the playoffs, but making a fantastic run of it.
We were married in December - a Christmas wedding in a twilight barn. It was beautiful, but cold. And I wasn't a bit nervous walking down that aisle. I knew I was making the very best decision for Miles and I. Sean was the best decision I could have ever made.
The next day, life was back to normal. Normal for Sean and I anyways. I went straight back to work, and he was on Christmas break. Our family's first Christmas was more exciting than you can imagine.
And our next year would bring more miracles!
That cold November night, God was showing me "The Grace." And it's a grace that I will always, always thank Him for.
Humbly His,
L.
"And the greatest of these....is love..."
Sunday, November 2, 2014
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Love Story Part One (Series of Four)
I remember the day like it was yesterday. December 7, 2010. I was getting ready and my golden retriever, Scout, looked up at me as if to ask, "Mama, when is that baby coming?" Little did I know she would come that very day.
I arrived at my doctors appointment for my second non stress test and biophysical profile. I wasn't measuring quite 36 weeks, but I was exactly 39 weeks pregnant. I wasn't so nervous, this little girl had scored perfectly on her first.
I kicked my feet up and sat back in the chair. My contractions were regular, but not strong enough to indicate labor. My mema was with me. We chatted, and every time I felt that little one kick, I pressed a button. I didn't press that button very often. The tech brought me a coke to drink, to try to get her to move a little more. Didn't happen. They took the monitors off of me.
I went to another room for a detailed ultrasound. The ultrasound technician had the best poker face. "Well, it looks like she scored may have scored a 6 out of 10, but I'm leaning toward giving her a 4 out of 10 because she wasn't moving as much as we would like at this time."
Hold up. A 4? Out of 10? What's going on with this baby?
I put my clothes on and was taken to the exam room. My doctor walked in, as calm and collected as he always is. "Lauren, I think we're going to have a baby today."
But, I wasn't in labor. I still had another week. I didn't even have my bags packed!
"She needs to come today. She's stopped growing, and you're not growing. We can start you on a Pitocin drip and try to induce, but I'm afraid that would cause her distress. I think the safest thing for your baby is an emergency C-section."
"Of course. Do whatever is best for my baby," I stuttered.
My baby.
I got dressed and went to check in downstairs. I started tearing up, as my blessed mema, who had been by my side since day one, made the appropriate phone calls. There I was, excited as could be, but also as nervous as could be - surgery just sprung on me out of nowhere. But I couldn't wait to see that beautiful face that had laid near my heart for the past 9 months.
I remember people coming in and out of my room. I remember the nurses having the hardest time finding a vein for an IV. I remember pictures being taken and the surgical techs coming to get me. And I remember being terrified.
As soon as I was rolled into that cold, stark white room, I remember nothing but fear. The surgical techs were wonderful at taking my mind off of the actual surgery, but I began shaking uncontrollably. I'm not sure if it was nerves or the temperature, but the tremors were frightening. And the spinal block was placed, I was laid back and the curtain was pulled up. My chest and arms were strapped to the operating table. Just putting it into words make my stomach turn.
My sweet, docile doc talked me through the entire process. He explained everything that he was doing.
"I should have her out in less than two minutes, Lauren. Just relax."
And then, there she was. Her beautiful cry. She was absolutely the most stunning creature that I had ever seen. She was laid next to me, and the tears of joy started pouring from my eyes.
And I don't remember much after that. My doctor had instructed the anesthesiologist to give me something to help me relax and sleep as soon as I saw her. I did relax, but I didn't sleep. For two days, I didn't sleep.
I was so thankful to be released from recovery to snuggle that sweet baby girl.
Miles Usry - the most beautiful girl in the world, my precious gift from God.
That evening I remember vividly. It can probably be remembered as the most special night of my life. My mama stayed with me, making a bed on the couch. Everyone had been gone for over an hour. Sweet Miles was lying in the bassinet next to my bed.
"Lauren, she is sleeping, it's time for you to sleep." I know my mom must have made that command no less than four times that night.
"Mama, I'm not tired."
"You are going to be exhausted. Just get some sleep."
I flipped through the news channels as mama dozed. I looked over at the sweet face, the one that had made me a mama. I silently thanked God, for both girls on either side of me.
CNN announced the news that one of my favorite women in the public eye, Elizabeth Edwards, had lost her battle to a disease my mom fought only years before. I think, that very moment, I realized just how blessed I was, and am, in this life.
I laid my head to the side, afraid to move, because the block was slowly wearing off. I fell into the twilight sleep when Miles let out a strong cry. It was time for her to eat. And eat she did, earning (much to my chagrin) the nickname "Miss Piggy" by the nursery nurses. How dare them call this petite 6 lb 4 oz baby a pig? My mom still laughs at how angry this made me.
My mom jumped up, immediately after hearing her cry and helped put her in my arms so she could eat. And when she finished, she told me once again, "Lauren, go to sleep, the sun's about to come up."
My mama fell back to sleep and I reached over to grab that sweet, sleep drunk baby and cuddled her in my arms. I breathed in her smell. I rubbed her tiny feet. And on the 6 o'clock news, a church was trying to raise money to give a former patient the best Christmas ever, because it was to be her last. She was only 23 and she was dying. Tears slid down my cheeks, and I wiped them away before I soaked my child. And I watched the sun rise.
So much joy, and so much sadness.
This would be a preface to my life, from then on, as I knew it.
I would spend two full days in the hospital and then was released to go live as a mama.
A blessed mama. The beginning of my love story.
This is "The Grace."
Humbly His,
L.
I arrived at my doctors appointment for my second non stress test and biophysical profile. I wasn't measuring quite 36 weeks, but I was exactly 39 weeks pregnant. I wasn't so nervous, this little girl had scored perfectly on her first.
I kicked my feet up and sat back in the chair. My contractions were regular, but not strong enough to indicate labor. My mema was with me. We chatted, and every time I felt that little one kick, I pressed a button. I didn't press that button very often. The tech brought me a coke to drink, to try to get her to move a little more. Didn't happen. They took the monitors off of me.
I went to another room for a detailed ultrasound. The ultrasound technician had the best poker face. "Well, it looks like she scored may have scored a 6 out of 10, but I'm leaning toward giving her a 4 out of 10 because she wasn't moving as much as we would like at this time."
Hold up. A 4? Out of 10? What's going on with this baby?
I put my clothes on and was taken to the exam room. My doctor walked in, as calm and collected as he always is. "Lauren, I think we're going to have a baby today."
But, I wasn't in labor. I still had another week. I didn't even have my bags packed!
"She needs to come today. She's stopped growing, and you're not growing. We can start you on a Pitocin drip and try to induce, but I'm afraid that would cause her distress. I think the safest thing for your baby is an emergency C-section."
"Of course. Do whatever is best for my baby," I stuttered.
My baby.
I got dressed and went to check in downstairs. I started tearing up, as my blessed mema, who had been by my side since day one, made the appropriate phone calls. There I was, excited as could be, but also as nervous as could be - surgery just sprung on me out of nowhere. But I couldn't wait to see that beautiful face that had laid near my heart for the past 9 months.
I remember people coming in and out of my room. I remember the nurses having the hardest time finding a vein for an IV. I remember pictures being taken and the surgical techs coming to get me. And I remember being terrified.
As soon as I was rolled into that cold, stark white room, I remember nothing but fear. The surgical techs were wonderful at taking my mind off of the actual surgery, but I began shaking uncontrollably. I'm not sure if it was nerves or the temperature, but the tremors were frightening. And the spinal block was placed, I was laid back and the curtain was pulled up. My chest and arms were strapped to the operating table. Just putting it into words make my stomach turn.
My sweet, docile doc talked me through the entire process. He explained everything that he was doing.
"I should have her out in less than two minutes, Lauren. Just relax."
And then, there she was. Her beautiful cry. She was absolutely the most stunning creature that I had ever seen. She was laid next to me, and the tears of joy started pouring from my eyes.
And I don't remember much after that. My doctor had instructed the anesthesiologist to give me something to help me relax and sleep as soon as I saw her. I did relax, but I didn't sleep. For two days, I didn't sleep.
I was so thankful to be released from recovery to snuggle that sweet baby girl.
Miles Usry - the most beautiful girl in the world, my precious gift from God.
That evening I remember vividly. It can probably be remembered as the most special night of my life. My mama stayed with me, making a bed on the couch. Everyone had been gone for over an hour. Sweet Miles was lying in the bassinet next to my bed.
"Lauren, she is sleeping, it's time for you to sleep." I know my mom must have made that command no less than four times that night.
"Mama, I'm not tired."
"You are going to be exhausted. Just get some sleep."
I flipped through the news channels as mama dozed. I looked over at the sweet face, the one that had made me a mama. I silently thanked God, for both girls on either side of me.
CNN announced the news that one of my favorite women in the public eye, Elizabeth Edwards, had lost her battle to a disease my mom fought only years before. I think, that very moment, I realized just how blessed I was, and am, in this life.
I laid my head to the side, afraid to move, because the block was slowly wearing off. I fell into the twilight sleep when Miles let out a strong cry. It was time for her to eat. And eat she did, earning (much to my chagrin) the nickname "Miss Piggy" by the nursery nurses. How dare them call this petite 6 lb 4 oz baby a pig? My mom still laughs at how angry this made me.
My mom jumped up, immediately after hearing her cry and helped put her in my arms so she could eat. And when she finished, she told me once again, "Lauren, go to sleep, the sun's about to come up."
My mama fell back to sleep and I reached over to grab that sweet, sleep drunk baby and cuddled her in my arms. I breathed in her smell. I rubbed her tiny feet. And on the 6 o'clock news, a church was trying to raise money to give a former patient the best Christmas ever, because it was to be her last. She was only 23 and she was dying. Tears slid down my cheeks, and I wiped them away before I soaked my child. And I watched the sun rise.
So much joy, and so much sadness.
This would be a preface to my life, from then on, as I knew it.
I would spend two full days in the hospital and then was released to go live as a mama.
A blessed mama. The beginning of my love story.
This is "The Grace."
Humbly His,
L.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Beautiful Feet
"And how will anyone go and tell them without being sent? That is why the Scriptures say, "How beautiful are the feet of messengers who bring good news!" - Romans 10:15
"We must take God's great message of salvation to others so that they can respond to the Good News. How will your loved ones and neighbors hear it unless someone tells them? Is God calling you to take a part in making his message known to your community? Think of one person who needs to hear the Good News, and think of something you can do to help him or her hear it. Then take that step as soon as possible." - Life Application Study Bible
This blog is full of my worries and downfalls and shortcomings and panic. And I think that's okay, it's definitely a therapeutic way to express my feelings without completely curling up in fetal position and sobbing my heart out. Which is what I feel like doing a lot of the time.
Like, today. Nope, I didn't receive "the Grace" that I was hoping to today. At least not in the way I wanted to. There were thoughts racing through my head as I drove home tonight and began to feel the worry strangling me, like "What if I have spent my last Christmas with my girls?" "What if I die and never get to hold my husbands hand under a table during a one on one date again?" and "What if my family never knows just how much I adore each and every one of them. My mama. My daddy. My Grandparents. Sean and the kiddos. My brother and his sweet family and my sister and her adorable boyfriend." I still have so much love to give.
I better start now, right?
And then I read about the girl with the brain tumor who plans to take the medication to kill herself on Saturday. I want to shake her and say "Honey, we all suffer, but just live! JUST LIVE!" And then I realize I need to take a nice, hard look in the mirror.
And I've seen people suffer from cancer before, so I'm not making any judgements on that one.
I want this blog to bring people to Jesus. I want to have beautiful feet. (I totally don't right now. I need a manicure desperately, but am not ashamed that I cannot afford that luxury right now).
But really, beautiful feet. It's my job. My purpose in life. If I don't ever see another Christmas, or another romantic evening out with my husband, I want people to know that I love the Lord, and that He gave His life for all of us. Every. Single. One. Even the least of these.
So the next time you see someone asking for money on the street downtown, ignore the immediate thoughts that pop into your head, like "He's just going to use it to buy booze." (Come on, you know you all do it.) Give him a dollar or two. You may be helping him buy his heart medication, or may be giving him a warm meal.
The next time your grandparent or elderly neighbor needs help, give up your Saturday shopping or sitting on the couch watching football, and help.
When your family wants you to come for a get together, but you need to clean your house, go celebrate and fellowship with your family.
It's time to be the beautiful feet of Jesus.
From now on, I'm going to look for ways to be the feet of Jesus. Everywhere. All of the time.
But right now, I need to go hold hands with my husband and watch TV.
Humbly His,
L.
"We must take God's great message of salvation to others so that they can respond to the Good News. How will your loved ones and neighbors hear it unless someone tells them? Is God calling you to take a part in making his message known to your community? Think of one person who needs to hear the Good News, and think of something you can do to help him or her hear it. Then take that step as soon as possible." - Life Application Study Bible
This blog is full of my worries and downfalls and shortcomings and panic. And I think that's okay, it's definitely a therapeutic way to express my feelings without completely curling up in fetal position and sobbing my heart out. Which is what I feel like doing a lot of the time.
Like, today. Nope, I didn't receive "the Grace" that I was hoping to today. At least not in the way I wanted to. There were thoughts racing through my head as I drove home tonight and began to feel the worry strangling me, like "What if I have spent my last Christmas with my girls?" "What if I die and never get to hold my husbands hand under a table during a one on one date again?" and "What if my family never knows just how much I adore each and every one of them. My mama. My daddy. My Grandparents. Sean and the kiddos. My brother and his sweet family and my sister and her adorable boyfriend." I still have so much love to give.
I better start now, right?
And then I read about the girl with the brain tumor who plans to take the medication to kill herself on Saturday. I want to shake her and say "Honey, we all suffer, but just live! JUST LIVE!" And then I realize I need to take a nice, hard look in the mirror.
And I've seen people suffer from cancer before, so I'm not making any judgements on that one.
I want this blog to bring people to Jesus. I want to have beautiful feet. (I totally don't right now. I need a manicure desperately, but am not ashamed that I cannot afford that luxury right now).
But really, beautiful feet. It's my job. My purpose in life. If I don't ever see another Christmas, or another romantic evening out with my husband, I want people to know that I love the Lord, and that He gave His life for all of us. Every. Single. One. Even the least of these.
So the next time you see someone asking for money on the street downtown, ignore the immediate thoughts that pop into your head, like "He's just going to use it to buy booze." (Come on, you know you all do it.) Give him a dollar or two. You may be helping him buy his heart medication, or may be giving him a warm meal.
The next time your grandparent or elderly neighbor needs help, give up your Saturday shopping or sitting on the couch watching football, and help.
When your family wants you to come for a get together, but you need to clean your house, go celebrate and fellowship with your family.
It's time to be the beautiful feet of Jesus.
From now on, I'm going to look for ways to be the feet of Jesus. Everywhere. All of the time.
But right now, I need to go hold hands with my husband and watch TV.
Humbly His,
L.
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
The Most Disjointed Post Ever (aka - I'm in the Midst of a Panic Attack)
"And Jesus says whoever loses his life for me will find it -- and if you try to save your life, you'll lose it. Does anyone believe Him?
Whoever wants to save his life will definitely lose it." - Ann Voskamp
Right now, I'm having a panic attack. I've actually been panicking all day. It hasn't been too terrible. I've been able to work, to answer phone calls, to love on babies, and to cook dinner and give baths. But as the night comes to a close (my most dreaded part of the day), I feel the panic wrap its fingers around my neck, strangling.
And I think back to the devotion I read by Ann Voskamp today (have I mentioned how much I love her? how much she speaks to my tattered soul? well, she does).
Her words, summarizing the words of Jesus, lit up my mind, as I related them to my anxiety.
I give my life to you, Lord. I die to myself.
I will no longer try to save my life.
The next time I feel the panic strangling me (like right now), I have decided to let it go. Let it fall through me. And Jesus can save me if that is His will. And if it is not His will, He can bring me to Him.
I've died to the world. And am living for Him.
I am pretty sure this is not the end of my anxiety. It's not the end of my panic attacks, and I will probably worry...a lot, from time to time. But I'm definitely going to flag this post and refer back to it when I feel like running to the hospital or running to the doctor...or just running away.
I will embrace the exhaustion. Because that means I have worked hard so that Miles can take ballet and tap, and Maris can have a wonderful first birthday party. I will have stayed up reading them stories, bathing them, cooking them dinner, and letting Miles crack the eggs.
I will embrace the anxiety. Because I can actually FEEL. I have emotion. I care about others - the least of these. I worry about my girls and about my husband and about our well-being. I do become anxious, yes, but I become anxious because I love SO much. It's beautiful, from that perspective.
Tonight, I was talking to my grandaddy, the great grandfather of Miles and Maris. I told him how I would so much rather be in pain than feel the anxiety shooting through my veins. How it would be wonderful to not worry anymore. And, he completely agreed with me. He told me "Yes. So would I. But I've found as you get older, it gets better." And if anyone knows, it's him. And it felt SO good, that someone would relate to me. That someone would validate my feelings.
I still believe that Jesus can take this away. Without giving me pain, without making me suffer. I have many people praying for me. Those who don't even know me. And for that, I am so thankful.
I can't wait until my next experience with The Grace.
I pray I can write about that experience tomorrow.
Humbly His,
L.
Whoever wants to save his life will definitely lose it." - Ann Voskamp
Right now, I'm having a panic attack. I've actually been panicking all day. It hasn't been too terrible. I've been able to work, to answer phone calls, to love on babies, and to cook dinner and give baths. But as the night comes to a close (my most dreaded part of the day), I feel the panic wrap its fingers around my neck, strangling.
And I think back to the devotion I read by Ann Voskamp today (have I mentioned how much I love her? how much she speaks to my tattered soul? well, she does).
Her words, summarizing the words of Jesus, lit up my mind, as I related them to my anxiety.
I give my life to you, Lord. I die to myself.
I will no longer try to save my life.
The next time I feel the panic strangling me (like right now), I have decided to let it go. Let it fall through me. And Jesus can save me if that is His will. And if it is not His will, He can bring me to Him.
I've died to the world. And am living for Him.
I am pretty sure this is not the end of my anxiety. It's not the end of my panic attacks, and I will probably worry...a lot, from time to time. But I'm definitely going to flag this post and refer back to it when I feel like running to the hospital or running to the doctor...or just running away.
I will embrace the exhaustion. Because that means I have worked hard so that Miles can take ballet and tap, and Maris can have a wonderful first birthday party. I will have stayed up reading them stories, bathing them, cooking them dinner, and letting Miles crack the eggs.
I will embrace the anxiety. Because I can actually FEEL. I have emotion. I care about others - the least of these. I worry about my girls and about my husband and about our well-being. I do become anxious, yes, but I become anxious because I love SO much. It's beautiful, from that perspective.
Tonight, I was talking to my grandaddy, the great grandfather of Miles and Maris. I told him how I would so much rather be in pain than feel the anxiety shooting through my veins. How it would be wonderful to not worry anymore. And, he completely agreed with me. He told me "Yes. So would I. But I've found as you get older, it gets better." And if anyone knows, it's him. And it felt SO good, that someone would relate to me. That someone would validate my feelings.
I still believe that Jesus can take this away. Without giving me pain, without making me suffer. I have many people praying for me. Those who don't even know me. And for that, I am so thankful.
I can't wait until my next experience with The Grace.
I pray I can write about that experience tomorrow.
Humbly His,
L.
Saturday, October 25, 2014
Warning - This Could Possibly Be a Pity Party Post (but not on purpose)...
The past few days have been trying. As much as I try to live with joy in my heart and in my soul, deep down, I know it's just not real.
I'm just not happy.
What does it feel like to feel normal?
I just don't remember.
What does it feel like to not worry ALL of the time> All of you in blog land may not believe me, I'm sure. I worry ALL OF THE TIME. It's literally exhausting. And coming off of my medication isn't helping. Taking my medicine makes me feel awful. Coming off makes me feel awful.
Where is the balance?
Am I sharing too much?
I don't care. I'm calling out again. Jesus, please take it away. PLEASE, just take it away. Please let me feel like I felt when I was 25, and had no thought of death, no fear of dying, no fear of my girls being split up. Give me pain over this. I'll take anything, over this hell I'm in.
I absolutely hate falling asleep, because I know at 4:45 am (or earlier) I'm going to wake up, with a high heart rate and shortness of breath. I'll take my medicine and get some more sleep, but wake up feeling (and looking) like a complete zombie. But a zombie, with adrenaline surging through my veins.
Life just isn't supposed to be like this.
Waking up with shortness of breath is scary. It's SO scary. It's like I gasp and can't get enough air.
The other night I prayed myself to sleep. I prayed that God would protect Miles. I prayed that God would protect Maris. I prayed that God would protect Sean. And finally, I prayed....and I prayed...and I prayed, that God would take the anxiousness away from me. It was a repetitive "Please God, take away my anxiety. Please God, take away my anxiety..."
But again - He hasn't.
And it's so disheartening to know that I'm going to wake up one day, and it will feel like tomorrow, and I will be 50 years old. My girls will be grown. And I will have missed it all. I will have missed the true happiness of my daughters (even though I fake every ounce of joy I can squeeze out of my being for those two) and I will miss out on joyful moments that I should be sharing with my husband.
When does enough become enough? When will I finally get that peace that Jesus got, when He knew He had to get off of his knees and walk towards the cross. When will I have that kind of strength?
I know y'all are all probably going to think I'm losing it after this post.
I'm not losing it, I promise. I'm just desperate. Begging for normalcy. Begging to be able to give my WHOLE self, first to Him, second to my husband, and third - to my precious girls.
I may feel like giving up, but I'm not going to. I'm just not. I may need to take a time out every now and again - but there is no giving up in this life. Three years ago, I went through hell, and made it out, shining as bright as the sun. I will do it again.
The anxiety will NOT kill me.
But I am so weary, and broken hearted. Waiting on my rest...
HUMBLY His,
L.
I'm just not happy.
What does it feel like to feel normal?
I just don't remember.
What does it feel like to not worry ALL of the time> All of you in blog land may not believe me, I'm sure. I worry ALL OF THE TIME. It's literally exhausting. And coming off of my medication isn't helping. Taking my medicine makes me feel awful. Coming off makes me feel awful.
Where is the balance?
Am I sharing too much?
I don't care. I'm calling out again. Jesus, please take it away. PLEASE, just take it away. Please let me feel like I felt when I was 25, and had no thought of death, no fear of dying, no fear of my girls being split up. Give me pain over this. I'll take anything, over this hell I'm in.
I absolutely hate falling asleep, because I know at 4:45 am (or earlier) I'm going to wake up, with a high heart rate and shortness of breath. I'll take my medicine and get some more sleep, but wake up feeling (and looking) like a complete zombie. But a zombie, with adrenaline surging through my veins.
Life just isn't supposed to be like this.
Waking up with shortness of breath is scary. It's SO scary. It's like I gasp and can't get enough air.
The other night I prayed myself to sleep. I prayed that God would protect Miles. I prayed that God would protect Maris. I prayed that God would protect Sean. And finally, I prayed....and I prayed...and I prayed, that God would take the anxiousness away from me. It was a repetitive "Please God, take away my anxiety. Please God, take away my anxiety..."
But again - He hasn't.
And it's so disheartening to know that I'm going to wake up one day, and it will feel like tomorrow, and I will be 50 years old. My girls will be grown. And I will have missed it all. I will have missed the true happiness of my daughters (even though I fake every ounce of joy I can squeeze out of my being for those two) and I will miss out on joyful moments that I should be sharing with my husband.
When does enough become enough? When will I finally get that peace that Jesus got, when He knew He had to get off of his knees and walk towards the cross. When will I have that kind of strength?
I know y'all are all probably going to think I'm losing it after this post.
I'm not losing it, I promise. I'm just desperate. Begging for normalcy. Begging to be able to give my WHOLE self, first to Him, second to my husband, and third - to my precious girls.
I may feel like giving up, but I'm not going to. I'm just not. I may need to take a time out every now and again - but there is no giving up in this life. Three years ago, I went through hell, and made it out, shining as bright as the sun. I will do it again.
The anxiety will NOT kill me.
But I am so weary, and broken hearted. Waiting on my rest...
HUMBLY His,
L.
Saturday, October 18, 2014
Post #2 in 5 hours.
I'm sitting here, sipping black tea (decaffeinated), trying to naturally lower my cortisol levels. I've taken my heart medicine, I fell asleep, and woke up an hour later with a heart rate of 95. A bounding 95. I don't understand it.
I just need sleep.
These worries are crowding my mind, and as much as I talk to God, they aren't going away.
And coming off of my anxiety medicine is like a living hell. I've had a migraine all day, and now, the tremors.
Another sleepless night.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
With God's help, I CAN do this.
Sorry for the random post, I just needed to write this, breathe, and sip.
I am giving EVERYTHING to you, Lord.
Always Humbly His,
L.
I just need sleep.
These worries are crowding my mind, and as much as I talk to God, they aren't going away.
And coming off of my anxiety medicine is like a living hell. I've had a migraine all day, and now, the tremors.
Another sleepless night.
I can do this. I can do this. I can do this.
With God's help, I CAN do this.
Sorry for the random post, I just needed to write this, breathe, and sip.
I am giving EVERYTHING to you, Lord.
Always Humbly His,
L.
A Family in Transition
"We want big directional signs from God. God just wants us to pay attention." - Lysa Terkeurst
I. Am. Exhausted.
E.X.H.A.U.S.T.E.D.
It all started yesterday, around 3 in the afternoon. I was sitting at my desk at work, so excited about the weekend ahead. Five day weeks are so long. Two day weekends are SO short. So we try to pack as much love and life into every weekend as possible, beginning Friday evenings.
Miles (my oldest little) was invited to a birthday party at her favorite place on Friday afternoon. We had talked about it all week, and I was ready to rush home, pick her up, and run her back down to every childs favorite pizza/token/music/rides wonderland. And then I got a call from my mom.
Miles had not only hit Maris (my youngest little), but she had also hit another child at the "in home daycare" she stays at during the work days. My heart broke right there, as I stared into a computer screen full of e-mails I had yet to delete.
Why?
For some reason, lately, Miles has become very angry, lashing out at people - especially her little sister. Obviously, anyone who has ever had a younger sibling knows that there is always jealousy. But lately it's gotten way out of hand. And to hit another child, who is two years younger than she, and who would never hurt her.
I also have to say that Miles is a precious child. Last night, I watched her sit next to another little girl at Sean's football game and ask her if she'd like to have some of her cotton candy. And she shared and always offered more. This small child has a big heart.
And then there's today. Where she's been defiant and hurtful and refusing to listen to anything Sean or I say.
And I'm tired.
Not this week, but the next, we plan that Miles will start a K 3 - with children her own age. I am nervous, but hopeful that she will begin to develop better coping skills, because I think that maybe....just maybe, Miles is learning how to cope.
She realizes that both Maris' mommy and daddy live together. But she only has her mama. And we can play up (and truly believe) that Miles is Sean's bonus daughter, that he loves her and would give up anything for her - but that only goes so far in her own mind. She knows that her real dad lives 3 hours away (by plane) and that she doesn't get to see him very often.
So in the midst of my anxiety, I am searching everywhere for answers. I search in the Bible, I search in books, I pray and ask God to just give me answers. But what God really wants is for me to pay attention. Very close attention.
I pray that Miles knows that she is so very loved. And that she finds better ways to deal with what will be her life for the next 14 years. My biggest prayer, however, is that she always know Christ - and His will for her. And that she has tons of people behind her, praying her through this life.
I'm paying attention, God. I will be patient with my child, and love her, love both of them. I am so thankful that You have entrusted me with these two. I love them with all of my being. Just give me the answers when You are ready, and please bless us along the way.
Humbly His,
L.
I. Am. Exhausted.
E.X.H.A.U.S.T.E.D.
It all started yesterday, around 3 in the afternoon. I was sitting at my desk at work, so excited about the weekend ahead. Five day weeks are so long. Two day weekends are SO short. So we try to pack as much love and life into every weekend as possible, beginning Friday evenings.
Miles (my oldest little) was invited to a birthday party at her favorite place on Friday afternoon. We had talked about it all week, and I was ready to rush home, pick her up, and run her back down to every childs favorite pizza/token/music/rides wonderland. And then I got a call from my mom.
Miles had not only hit Maris (my youngest little), but she had also hit another child at the "in home daycare" she stays at during the work days. My heart broke right there, as I stared into a computer screen full of e-mails I had yet to delete.
Why?
For some reason, lately, Miles has become very angry, lashing out at people - especially her little sister. Obviously, anyone who has ever had a younger sibling knows that there is always jealousy. But lately it's gotten way out of hand. And to hit another child, who is two years younger than she, and who would never hurt her.
I also have to say that Miles is a precious child. Last night, I watched her sit next to another little girl at Sean's football game and ask her if she'd like to have some of her cotton candy. And she shared and always offered more. This small child has a big heart.
And then there's today. Where she's been defiant and hurtful and refusing to listen to anything Sean or I say.
And I'm tired.
Not this week, but the next, we plan that Miles will start a K 3 - with children her own age. I am nervous, but hopeful that she will begin to develop better coping skills, because I think that maybe....just maybe, Miles is learning how to cope.
She realizes that both Maris' mommy and daddy live together. But she only has her mama. And we can play up (and truly believe) that Miles is Sean's bonus daughter, that he loves her and would give up anything for her - but that only goes so far in her own mind. She knows that her real dad lives 3 hours away (by plane) and that she doesn't get to see him very often.
So in the midst of my anxiety, I am searching everywhere for answers. I search in the Bible, I search in books, I pray and ask God to just give me answers. But what God really wants is for me to pay attention. Very close attention.
I pray that Miles knows that she is so very loved. And that she finds better ways to deal with what will be her life for the next 14 years. My biggest prayer, however, is that she always know Christ - and His will for her. And that she has tons of people behind her, praying her through this life.
I'm paying attention, God. I will be patient with my child, and love her, love both of them. I am so thankful that You have entrusted me with these two. I love them with all of my being. Just give me the answers when You are ready, and please bless us along the way.
Humbly His,
L.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
Peace in Failure
I love the way my New Living Translation Bible defines peace.
"Peace (n) - a state of tranquility or quiet; a pact or agreement to end hostilities between those who have been at war or in a state of enmity; harmony in personal relations, especially with God; a state of security or order within a community; freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions."-NLT
Amen.
And again, I say amen.
I have failed miserably in my journey. But I am beginning to make peace with failing. Failing will be a part of my journey. I will stand up, skinned knees and all, pick the pebbles out of my palms, brush the dirt from my stained jeans, and begin walking forward again.
I have a new focus. A healthy me.
I started this blog wanting to discuss my anxiety, and I will absolutely continue to do so. It's the only way to have people REALLY accept me...those who want to, anyway. I also want to help others know that they are not alone - fighting those monsters in the dark. Either in the darkness of the night or the darkness of their mind.
I want to be healthy. I have been doing short 7 minute exercises guided by a new app on my phone. My goal by the end of this week to be doing these twice a day. Also, controlling my food intake. Ridding my body of sugar, ALL caffeine, getting back on my protein shakes - daily. And finally, and most importantly, prayer.
I've thought very hard about deleting my Facebook account for good, but there are so many I keep in contact with, if only to let them know that I am praying for them. It's a definite distraction, which is great for me. It keeps me closer to God, keeps my heart focused on Him and prayerful at all times. And it also lets me show off my beautiful girls and my way handsome husband (who is battling a head cold right now, bless his heart).
I want to keep giving, as well. As we say in the church - of my prayers, my presence, my gifts and my service. Let me know if you need any help.
I want to be like Matthew. I know that following Jesus includes suffering. My suffering may be my anxiety, my struggle.
Matthew was a tax collector - he gave that up to follow Jesus. I want to give up everything and follow Him. I want to be given new life.
Please be in prayer that my heart, first of all, always remains prayerful. Secondly, pray that I continue to exercise and make my body stronger. Lastly, pray that what I put in my body keeps my body at peaceful levels.
There are so many things to live for. But there is nothing without Him.
He is peace in my failures. He is The Grace.
Humbly His,
L.
"Peace (n) - a state of tranquility or quiet; a pact or agreement to end hostilities between those who have been at war or in a state of enmity; harmony in personal relations, especially with God; a state of security or order within a community; freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions."-NLT
Amen.
And again, I say amen.
I have failed miserably in my journey. But I am beginning to make peace with failing. Failing will be a part of my journey. I will stand up, skinned knees and all, pick the pebbles out of my palms, brush the dirt from my stained jeans, and begin walking forward again.
I have a new focus. A healthy me.
I started this blog wanting to discuss my anxiety, and I will absolutely continue to do so. It's the only way to have people REALLY accept me...those who want to, anyway. I also want to help others know that they are not alone - fighting those monsters in the dark. Either in the darkness of the night or the darkness of their mind.
I want to be healthy. I have been doing short 7 minute exercises guided by a new app on my phone. My goal by the end of this week to be doing these twice a day. Also, controlling my food intake. Ridding my body of sugar, ALL caffeine, getting back on my protein shakes - daily. And finally, and most importantly, prayer.
I've thought very hard about deleting my Facebook account for good, but there are so many I keep in contact with, if only to let them know that I am praying for them. It's a definite distraction, which is great for me. It keeps me closer to God, keeps my heart focused on Him and prayerful at all times. And it also lets me show off my beautiful girls and my way handsome husband (who is battling a head cold right now, bless his heart).
I want to keep giving, as well. As we say in the church - of my prayers, my presence, my gifts and my service. Let me know if you need any help.
I want to be like Matthew. I know that following Jesus includes suffering. My suffering may be my anxiety, my struggle.
Matthew was a tax collector - he gave that up to follow Jesus. I want to give up everything and follow Him. I want to be given new life.
Please be in prayer that my heart, first of all, always remains prayerful. Secondly, pray that I continue to exercise and make my body stronger. Lastly, pray that what I put in my body keeps my body at peaceful levels.
There are so many things to live for. But there is nothing without Him.
He is peace in my failures. He is The Grace.
Humbly His,
L.
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Becoming "Refined"
1 Peter 1:7
And hopefully, with my next blog post, I can be a little more honest about what is happening in my life.
Today was a good day.
Humbly His,
L.
"so that the proof of your faith, being more precious than gold which is perishable, even though tested by fire, may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ"
So, yes, I must admit that I am very upset about the status of Todd Gurley and the University of Georgia football team right now.
And yes, we have a stressful weekend coming up.
And this week was VERY stressful.
Yesterday, I had to pick Miles up from the sweet lady who keeps her, due to her bad behavior. I know, I know, she's three years old, three year olds go through this, I've heard it again and again.
But this child was not taught to behave badly. She has only been taught to treat her sister with love and adoration. "Love others, as I have loved you." Jesus' words are taught in our home.
I was devastated to hear how badly my daughter acted, and I'm just beside myself. With the help of my mama, and her grandmothers, and Sean, I am trying to decipher the best plan for Miles at this point.
Is this a test? I'm not sure.
I'm pretty open on this blog, and I try to be honest and forthcoming about EVERYTHING in my life, but there are some things that I do have to keep personal for my family's sake - at this point. I may, one day, be able to share all of my secrets, let you all know about all of my stressors....and ALL of my celebrations!
I've received the sweetest messages this week. From Facebook messages, to texts, to phone calls. One sweet lady even told me that she felt like God was "refining" me. Wow. Me, refined? That sounds so nice...so why not believe it?
The Grace. It's all there.
He is refining me. He is refining Miles. He is refining Sean. He is refining Maris (God bless her temper). And he even may be refining sweet Sunday!
This blog post is really just a thanks. A thank you to each of you who support me everyday with your prayers, your love, your messages. For those of you who believe that I am being refined in my struggles
And hopefully, with my next blog post, I can be a little more honest about what is happening in my life.
Today was a good day.
Humbly His,
L.
Sunday, October 5, 2014
My Beautiful Weekend
What a great weekend. Friday night, Miles and I went shopping to get ready for an overnight trip to Lake Burton. Of course, it's the first cold weekend of the year, so the girls and I were totally unprepared (I was pregnant this time last year). Thank the good Lord for a fantastic sale at GAP and some super cute clothes!
I put the girls to bed, and started getting ready. Sean and I were able to get some good sleep, as he had a night off from coaching. It was nice to have a Friday to watch TV and snuggle with him.
Saturday morning, the girls and I got up early, got baths and got on the road. The drive up was nothing short of beautiful. It has been too long since I have been to the North Georgia mountains, and to go some place as secluded as Lake Burton was fantastic. Our view was breathtaking, the mountains on the horizon, the water as clear as glass. You could seriously see straight to the bottom.
God's handiwork, for sure.
Lauren and Ashley are two of my best friends from Emory, and I am so blessed to have them in my life. We can go a year or more without seeing each other, but we are as close as ever when we are finally in each others company. (And they were so good with my girls, who can be a total handful!)
We did the "touristy" things - we went to Babyland General, and saw a baby boy Cabbage Patch being born. (Miles didn't want anything to do with that - total tomboy!) We then went to Helen and walked around. Of course, we had to go to the Hansel and Gretel candy store to get sweets, and then boiled peanuts. And we were totally cool with stopping and grabbing a bite to eat at the little "German" Wendy's (we all know Miles' food groups are french fries, cornbread, crowder peas and ice cream).
My favorite part of the evening was walking down to the boat ramp back at Lake Burton, and just staring at the sunset with two of my best friends, and the babies. God is so good.
Last night, we ate chili, cornbread and salad. Ash had to leave early to teach Sunday school this morning, so Lauren, Miles and I stayed up and just chatted.
I cannot tell you how nice it was to not have to worry about anything. No anxiety, no worries - just comfort with people who accept you and your babies as you are. Those that KNOW you.
The anxiety was back, though, in full force this morning, with a teething 11 month old (today!) and worries about getting home.
My anxiety is literally so bad, that I LOOK for the blue "H" signs to know that a hospital is near while I travel. Just in case something should happen. It literally breaks my heart that that is how I live my life. We got on the road around 11, and made really good time, but once I walked in the door, I felt the anxiety all over again.
I fed Maris, put her down for a nap, and put Miles in her room to rest. I tried to lie down with Sunday (our new "double doodle" - pics later!) but I just couldn't relax. Mema (God bless her) came over and sat with me for a bit, and her presence always helps me relax. Whenever she's here, I know that if anything should happen, my girls will be taken care of! And she will come at the drop of a hat!
Another way God has blessed me.
All of these blessings, and I still cannot let go of this anxiety.
I am still not quite sure I'm getting the help I need, my major problem being my heart racing first thing in the morning! I wake up every morning around 4 am to a heart rate of about 150 bpm. And it just sets me off for a bad day.
Please continue to keep me in your prayers. Pray that my heart just stops doing these crazy things in the mornings and that I am able to wake up without immediately having to take my beta blocker to calm it down. Pray that I can actually "Let Go, and Let God" without taking it all right back.
With such a beautiful weekend so fresh in my mind, I shouldn't be sitting here writing with tears stinging my eyes.
Thank you to Lauren and Ashley for bringing me such comfort and bringing my girls such joy this weekend.
And a continuous thanks to my husband who holds my hand and handles things around the house when I need to take a "time out" and just write.
And to Mema - thank you for just sitting.
Love to all of you, and a big hug to all of you who read and pray.
Humbly His -
L.
"Some Pharisees came to Jesus and said to him, "leave this place and go somewhere else. Herod wants to kill you." He replied, "Go tell that fox....I must keep going today and tomorrow and the next day."" (Luke 13:31-33)
I must keep going.
I put the girls to bed, and started getting ready. Sean and I were able to get some good sleep, as he had a night off from coaching. It was nice to have a Friday to watch TV and snuggle with him.
Saturday morning, the girls and I got up early, got baths and got on the road. The drive up was nothing short of beautiful. It has been too long since I have been to the North Georgia mountains, and to go some place as secluded as Lake Burton was fantastic. Our view was breathtaking, the mountains on the horizon, the water as clear as glass. You could seriously see straight to the bottom.
God's handiwork, for sure.
Lauren and Ashley are two of my best friends from Emory, and I am so blessed to have them in my life. We can go a year or more without seeing each other, but we are as close as ever when we are finally in each others company. (And they were so good with my girls, who can be a total handful!)
We did the "touristy" things - we went to Babyland General, and saw a baby boy Cabbage Patch being born. (Miles didn't want anything to do with that - total tomboy!) We then went to Helen and walked around. Of course, we had to go to the Hansel and Gretel candy store to get sweets, and then boiled peanuts. And we were totally cool with stopping and grabbing a bite to eat at the little "German" Wendy's (we all know Miles' food groups are french fries, cornbread, crowder peas and ice cream).
My favorite part of the evening was walking down to the boat ramp back at Lake Burton, and just staring at the sunset with two of my best friends, and the babies. God is so good.
Last night, we ate chili, cornbread and salad. Ash had to leave early to teach Sunday school this morning, so Lauren, Miles and I stayed up and just chatted.
I cannot tell you how nice it was to not have to worry about anything. No anxiety, no worries - just comfort with people who accept you and your babies as you are. Those that KNOW you.
The anxiety was back, though, in full force this morning, with a teething 11 month old (today!) and worries about getting home.
My anxiety is literally so bad, that I LOOK for the blue "H" signs to know that a hospital is near while I travel. Just in case something should happen. It literally breaks my heart that that is how I live my life. We got on the road around 11, and made really good time, but once I walked in the door, I felt the anxiety all over again.
I fed Maris, put her down for a nap, and put Miles in her room to rest. I tried to lie down with Sunday (our new "double doodle" - pics later!) but I just couldn't relax. Mema (God bless her) came over and sat with me for a bit, and her presence always helps me relax. Whenever she's here, I know that if anything should happen, my girls will be taken care of! And she will come at the drop of a hat!
Another way God has blessed me.
All of these blessings, and I still cannot let go of this anxiety.
I am still not quite sure I'm getting the help I need, my major problem being my heart racing first thing in the morning! I wake up every morning around 4 am to a heart rate of about 150 bpm. And it just sets me off for a bad day.
Please continue to keep me in your prayers. Pray that my heart just stops doing these crazy things in the mornings and that I am able to wake up without immediately having to take my beta blocker to calm it down. Pray that I can actually "Let Go, and Let God" without taking it all right back.
With such a beautiful weekend so fresh in my mind, I shouldn't be sitting here writing with tears stinging my eyes.
Thank you to Lauren and Ashley for bringing me such comfort and bringing my girls such joy this weekend.
And a continuous thanks to my husband who holds my hand and handles things around the house when I need to take a "time out" and just write.
And to Mema - thank you for just sitting.
Love to all of you, and a big hug to all of you who read and pray.
Humbly His -
L.
"Some Pharisees came to Jesus and said to him, "leave this place and go somewhere else. Herod wants to kill you." He replied, "Go tell that fox....I must keep going today and tomorrow and the next day."" (Luke 13:31-33)
I must keep going.
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Unbreak My Heart
“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life?" Matt 6:25-27
If I could only really trust this verse.
I have had an extremely tearful day, as Miles is leaving to go on another plane ride tomorrow. Of course she needs to visit her dad, and I would do nothing to stand in the way of that, but I just hate it when she goes so far away. It breaks my heart. She's such a loving child, and is becoming more affectionate and loving every day - her discontentment appears to be fading.
Love that child.
Yesterday, I began feeling ill on my way to work. I have done a great job coming off of my medication, not feeling many of the side effects I did before, so I didn't attribute my "yucky" feeling to that. By the time I got to work, I developed such bad indigestion that I took three Tums. The pain spread to my jaws and to both of my arms and my wrists.
And, of course, I got worried.
By noon, I called my cardiologist and asked if they would just do a quick EKG and make sure everything was fine. I was able to go in around 2 p.m., and was called back at 2:30. It took no time to have the EKG done and read. The nurse came back in and told me that everything looked fine, that I could get ready to go. I grabbed my purse and got up to walk back and the doctor appeared at the door.
"Your EKG looks good," he said suddenly, "but your T waves are inverted. Does that sound familiar to you?"
Wait a minute? How do inverted T waves look "good." I immediately got nervous.
"We're going to do blood work, just to make sure your potassium isn't low."
Blood work was done, and I was out the door, only to worry like crazy.
Have I had a heart attack? Is my heart not getting enough oxygen? Why do I get these crazy cardiac symptoms? Am I going to have a heart attack....anytime now...?
Will this worrying add any more time to my life?
I know the answer to this question.
Worrying will not add any more time to my life. When God is ready for me to come home, I will. That is what I believe.
But oh my goodness, I am so afraid of leaving my two girls behind.
My biggest fear - that they will be split up. That Miles will not be raised with her sister. I honestly agonize over this thought every single day of my life.
So, friends, prayer warriors, all of those who care for me (or even if you don't). Please pray that this T wave inversion is just a normal variation of my heartbeat. But more importantly, please pray that I BELIEVE with all of my heart that my sweet girls will be very well taken care of if it should happen that I am here, on this earth, no longer.
I NEED this peace. I never thought I could need something so much. And it's staring right at me. In HIS word.
And right now, I need to praise God. For healing me one day at a time. For His Grace. The Grace. Because other than the EKG scare, I so love this life.
Humbly His,
L.
Friday, September 26, 2014
It's Begun
"Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything." James 1: 2-4
It happened. Tonight, at dinner. The anxiety.
I was eating very slowly, knowing that a full stomach makes me immediately nauseated.
And out of no where, I started feeling bad. Just, out of no where. Once that feeling hit, I ran to the restroom, and I will spare you the details. It's so frustrating.
I have been feeling great for weeks now. And then a horrible panic rushed over me...like a hot flash. I'm so disappointed.
I knew it was going to happen. I just hate that it happened this soon. And I pray it doesn't affect our Six Flags trip on Sunday. I'm definitely going, because my Miles has suffered enough for one kid's lifetimes. But I don't want to be sick all day.
I will persevere. I will have perspective. I will rejoice, even when things are bad.
When things just plain stink.
Please keep me in your prayers.
Humbly His,
L.
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
So, What's Up With My Faith?
"Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." Hebrews 11:1
I've been feeling so well lately. I am not sure if it has something to do with coming off of the medications, but I'm trying to not focus on it. It's a minute by minute thing, and I'm BEYOND proud of myself. I just need to keep my heart set on the daily blessings I receive from my God.
Speaking of God, where do you get your faith? Do you get it from the Bible? Do you get it from devotionals? Things that happen in your life?
I have ALWAYS struggled with my faith, which I think is one reason why I have been so afraid of death and dying. How can I be a Christian, proclaim my walk with Him everyday, and lack so much faith?
Sometimes questions run through my mind and I can't stop them.
What if God isn't real?
And then I snap back to "reality."
Yesterday, my faith was really faltering. Although I'm feeling pretty darn good, my life is still not perfect...and never will be. My family has struggles. The business of life overtakes us.
And then I looked into a woman's deep, chocolate brown eyes. And I saw faith. It wasn't anything she said, and we weren't talking about God or spirituality...or faith. Now, I know this woman does not question whether or not she will make it to Heaven. She knows for sure. But to see her eyes. The intricate parts of the eye. The pupil, the iris, the lashes, the eyelid, the brow.
One part of the human body, and every piece was made for a purpose. How else would the eye been made that way, if it weren't for a God? My God.
As I drove home that day, I suddenly thought of Champ, and I instantly had to catch my breath. The pit of my stomach began to ache.
Human Emotion. Another reason to have faith.
What purpose does human emotion serve, if there is not a God? If it was not for The Grace.
We feel deep sadness, we feel unexplainable joy, we feel love, we feel anger. That is God. That is my faith. That is all of the proof that I need.
The Grace.
I am so blessed to be doing better. To have found a different path. To have meetings with my Life Coach that aren't filled with tears and panic. To be able to get out of bed and FEEL these emotions that God has blessed us with, even if they may not be the emotions that I want to feel. To feel THIS faith.
And that, my friends, is what's up with my faith.
I would love to have a conversation about how you find faith. Email, comment or message me through Facebook!
Humbly His,
L.
I've been feeling so well lately. I am not sure if it has something to do with coming off of the medications, but I'm trying to not focus on it. It's a minute by minute thing, and I'm BEYOND proud of myself. I just need to keep my heart set on the daily blessings I receive from my God.
Speaking of God, where do you get your faith? Do you get it from the Bible? Do you get it from devotionals? Things that happen in your life?
I have ALWAYS struggled with my faith, which I think is one reason why I have been so afraid of death and dying. How can I be a Christian, proclaim my walk with Him everyday, and lack so much faith?
Sometimes questions run through my mind and I can't stop them.
What if God isn't real?
And then I snap back to "reality."
Yesterday, my faith was really faltering. Although I'm feeling pretty darn good, my life is still not perfect...and never will be. My family has struggles. The business of life overtakes us.
And then I looked into a woman's deep, chocolate brown eyes. And I saw faith. It wasn't anything she said, and we weren't talking about God or spirituality...or faith. Now, I know this woman does not question whether or not she will make it to Heaven. She knows for sure. But to see her eyes. The intricate parts of the eye. The pupil, the iris, the lashes, the eyelid, the brow.
One part of the human body, and every piece was made for a purpose. How else would the eye been made that way, if it weren't for a God? My God.
As I drove home that day, I suddenly thought of Champ, and I instantly had to catch my breath. The pit of my stomach began to ache.
Human Emotion. Another reason to have faith.
What purpose does human emotion serve, if there is not a God? If it was not for The Grace.
We feel deep sadness, we feel unexplainable joy, we feel love, we feel anger. That is God. That is my faith. That is all of the proof that I need.
The Grace.
I am so blessed to be doing better. To have found a different path. To have meetings with my Life Coach that aren't filled with tears and panic. To be able to get out of bed and FEEL these emotions that God has blessed us with, even if they may not be the emotions that I want to feel. To feel THIS faith.
And that, my friends, is what's up with my faith.
I would love to have a conversation about how you find faith. Email, comment or message me through Facebook!
Humbly His,
L.
Monday, September 22, 2014
Together
""Together" is a really good word. Together is what we need when we hit tough patches in life. Making decisions when life is making you cry shouldn't be done alone."-Lysa Terkeurst
Since I've begun writing about my troubles and anxieties, I've gained so much support. People from all around have offered kind words, small gifts and big hugs. And this has been such a learning season of my life.
It even seems, at times, that my girls are looking at me as I'm slowly breaking, and saying with their wide, soft blue eyes, "It's okay, Mama. You're human. We love you, anyway."
I do my best, that they not see my tears. But if they do see one or two fall, I think it's okay to let them know that, no, I'm not super mama. I'm going to yell. I'm going to fuss. And I'm going to punish. I'm also going to cry. But I will always love. And we will do this life "together."
My husband has had a rough year, losing both of his best friends in a matter of a few months. One human, one canine, both dear to his heart. We lose together. As I held his hand Saturday night on the way to the animal hospital, I told him that we are partners. We are there for each other. No matter what. But especially in times of loss.
He's been so loving to me, and so patient and kind. And tomorrow marks a big day for me. Another decrease in my medicine. I did better than expected with the first cut, and should know by Thursday or Friday how I will do with the second decrease. Whatever this second big day brings, I know my husband has my back. He will be there to help cook dinner, do dishes, bathe babies, run errands, read books. Whatever I need, we do this together.
I would be telling you a story if I said I wasn't nervous as I type these words. I'm scared of the headaches, the nausea, the ear ringing, the dizziness, the tremors, so on and so on. My days, excluding the loss of sweet Champ, have been so full of sweet children and fun dinners and laughter. I don't want to think about falling back into that deep, dark pit of anxiety.
But right now, with so much family and so many friends, and most importantly, God, I know I will not do this alone. We will do this together.
Humbly His,
L.
Since I've begun writing about my troubles and anxieties, I've gained so much support. People from all around have offered kind words, small gifts and big hugs. And this has been such a learning season of my life.
It even seems, at times, that my girls are looking at me as I'm slowly breaking, and saying with their wide, soft blue eyes, "It's okay, Mama. You're human. We love you, anyway."
I do my best, that they not see my tears. But if they do see one or two fall, I think it's okay to let them know that, no, I'm not super mama. I'm going to yell. I'm going to fuss. And I'm going to punish. I'm also going to cry. But I will always love. And we will do this life "together."
My husband has had a rough year, losing both of his best friends in a matter of a few months. One human, one canine, both dear to his heart. We lose together. As I held his hand Saturday night on the way to the animal hospital, I told him that we are partners. We are there for each other. No matter what. But especially in times of loss.
He's been so loving to me, and so patient and kind. And tomorrow marks a big day for me. Another decrease in my medicine. I did better than expected with the first cut, and should know by Thursday or Friday how I will do with the second decrease. Whatever this second big day brings, I know my husband has my back. He will be there to help cook dinner, do dishes, bathe babies, run errands, read books. Whatever I need, we do this together.
I would be telling you a story if I said I wasn't nervous as I type these words. I'm scared of the headaches, the nausea, the ear ringing, the dizziness, the tremors, so on and so on. My days, excluding the loss of sweet Champ, have been so full of sweet children and fun dinners and laughter. I don't want to think about falling back into that deep, dark pit of anxiety.
But right now, with so much family and so many friends, and most importantly, God, I know I will not do this alone. We will do this together.
Humbly His,
L.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
When "Rest in Peace" Just Doesn't Suffice.
Broken hearted doesn't do what we feel justice. "Completely broken," maybe. I don't know.
It just hurts.
We lost our 9 year old bulldog last night at around 10:30. He was such a part of our family.
I remember the first time seeing Sean, since high school. I was newly divorced and we had recently reconnected on Facebook (imagine that). I had butterflies when I parked on the curb, right in front of his home. He was standing outside in the cool November air waiting on me. And there was his best friend sitting right beside him.
Champ. Also known as, Champman, Champer, Champadoodle, etc.
He was not your normal bulldog.
Nope. He was the most docile creature ever created.
When Sean and I first were married, Sean would leave for school in the morning and Champ would immediately paw at the bed. I would pick up the 65 lb dog and put him in the bed with me. He and Miles were my snuggle buddies.
That's another thing. Miles. She and Champ became buddies months before she even learned how to walk. She pulled up on him. She laid on him. She rode him. And he loved her right back.
Yesterday, at around 5:30, Sean found Champ in our backyard unable to move. He was snoring loudly, but just wouldn't wake up. Sean picked him up and put him on the back porch. Sean poured cool water all over him and tried to wake him. Nothing worked. At all.
I was running around inside trying to get things together to take to my mom's house - we were going to celebrate her birthday. I called for Sean, and finally looked for him outside. I found him sitting over Champs body. He told me to take the girls to my parents house, he was going to stay with Champ. I picked Miles up and brought her outside. I explained to her that it was time for Champ to go to Heaven, and be with Jesus. She said her "goodbyes" and kissed him, and we went on to my parents house.
While we were gone, Sean gently bathed Champ, willing him to open his eyes...just to wake up. He wouldn't.
Miles stayed with my parents and I arrived home, only to find Champ in more distress. He was struggling to breathe through his nose (which is difficult if you know the anatomy of a Bulldogs face) and his jaw was clenched, his tongue stuck between his gums. His right front leg was stiff, straight and unmoving. I shined a flash light into his eyes, checking for pupil reaction, and he tried to close his eyes. I knew he was still there mentally. It was obvious Champ had had a stroke.
In the past few weeks, we had come to the conclusion that Champ had a brain tumor, walking at an angle, staring off into space, becoming almost blind and deaf. And now the tumor had caused what I believed to be a stroke.
Sean's sister, her fiancé and I finally convinced Sean it was time to take him to the vet - that he should not suffer all night long. We met Sean's mom at St. Francis Animal Hospital and the veterinary technician ran to our car and pulled Champ out of the back. She rushed him straight to the doctor. Another vet tech came to us and told us it was time.
We were taken to a comfortable room with a couch and chairs and a chest. On that chest sat a picture of UGA VI. So fitting, for sweet Champ (Bailey). They rolled Champ (who had still not yet woken up) into the room, an IV already placed in his arm. We said our goodbyes, told him what a GREAT dog he had been, and how much we loved him. We took a picture of Maris sitting with Champ, since we did not have any of her and Champ together.
And the Veterinarian came in. She placed the medications into the IV, and Champ peacefully died.
We sat around ugly crying, me, Sean and his mom. But what else do you do, when you love someone SO much, and they leave? You ugly cry.
As I was walking our other bull pup, Jones, tonight I began thinking. This is not just a time to mourn. Of course we miss him to our cores. Our hearts hurt because we will never see him again. I will never again hear Miles say, "Oh, you silly Champer."
But it's more about what is important in this life. Don't ever take one single day for granted. We are so blessed to have been given life. We should live life fully. I know, I know, it sounds so cliche, but why should we not? Are you stuck in a job you hate? Quit. Do something that you love. Are you so busy that you miss out on reading a book at night with your child? Slow down. You will never get these moments back. Make sure you tell your husband/wife that you love him/her. Over and over and over again. And mean it. Choose joy. Every. Second. Of. Your. Life.
Thanks Champ, for teaching me what it means to live my best life.
Have fun playing with Chris (Parker) tomorrow on his birthday.
And if you get a chance, thank Jesus for that big win over Troy, but also tell Him that we really need His hand this week against Tennessee. We will continue to watch over your little sister (Jarvis) Jones.
Go Dawgs.
It just hurts.
We lost our 9 year old bulldog last night at around 10:30. He was such a part of our family.
I remember the first time seeing Sean, since high school. I was newly divorced and we had recently reconnected on Facebook (imagine that). I had butterflies when I parked on the curb, right in front of his home. He was standing outside in the cool November air waiting on me. And there was his best friend sitting right beside him.
Champ. Also known as, Champman, Champer, Champadoodle, etc.
He was not your normal bulldog.
Nope. He was the most docile creature ever created.
When Sean and I first were married, Sean would leave for school in the morning and Champ would immediately paw at the bed. I would pick up the 65 lb dog and put him in the bed with me. He and Miles were my snuggle buddies.
That's another thing. Miles. She and Champ became buddies months before she even learned how to walk. She pulled up on him. She laid on him. She rode him. And he loved her right back.
Yesterday, at around 5:30, Sean found Champ in our backyard unable to move. He was snoring loudly, but just wouldn't wake up. Sean picked him up and put him on the back porch. Sean poured cool water all over him and tried to wake him. Nothing worked. At all.
I was running around inside trying to get things together to take to my mom's house - we were going to celebrate her birthday. I called for Sean, and finally looked for him outside. I found him sitting over Champs body. He told me to take the girls to my parents house, he was going to stay with Champ. I picked Miles up and brought her outside. I explained to her that it was time for Champ to go to Heaven, and be with Jesus. She said her "goodbyes" and kissed him, and we went on to my parents house.
While we were gone, Sean gently bathed Champ, willing him to open his eyes...just to wake up. He wouldn't.
Miles stayed with my parents and I arrived home, only to find Champ in more distress. He was struggling to breathe through his nose (which is difficult if you know the anatomy of a Bulldogs face) and his jaw was clenched, his tongue stuck between his gums. His right front leg was stiff, straight and unmoving. I shined a flash light into his eyes, checking for pupil reaction, and he tried to close his eyes. I knew he was still there mentally. It was obvious Champ had had a stroke.
In the past few weeks, we had come to the conclusion that Champ had a brain tumor, walking at an angle, staring off into space, becoming almost blind and deaf. And now the tumor had caused what I believed to be a stroke.
Sean's sister, her fiancé and I finally convinced Sean it was time to take him to the vet - that he should not suffer all night long. We met Sean's mom at St. Francis Animal Hospital and the veterinary technician ran to our car and pulled Champ out of the back. She rushed him straight to the doctor. Another vet tech came to us and told us it was time.
We were taken to a comfortable room with a couch and chairs and a chest. On that chest sat a picture of UGA VI. So fitting, for sweet Champ (Bailey). They rolled Champ (who had still not yet woken up) into the room, an IV already placed in his arm. We said our goodbyes, told him what a GREAT dog he had been, and how much we loved him. We took a picture of Maris sitting with Champ, since we did not have any of her and Champ together.
And the Veterinarian came in. She placed the medications into the IV, and Champ peacefully died.
We sat around ugly crying, me, Sean and his mom. But what else do you do, when you love someone SO much, and they leave? You ugly cry.
As I was walking our other bull pup, Jones, tonight I began thinking. This is not just a time to mourn. Of course we miss him to our cores. Our hearts hurt because we will never see him again. I will never again hear Miles say, "Oh, you silly Champer."
But it's more about what is important in this life. Don't ever take one single day for granted. We are so blessed to have been given life. We should live life fully. I know, I know, it sounds so cliche, but why should we not? Are you stuck in a job you hate? Quit. Do something that you love. Are you so busy that you miss out on reading a book at night with your child? Slow down. You will never get these moments back. Make sure you tell your husband/wife that you love him/her. Over and over and over again. And mean it. Choose joy. Every. Second. Of. Your. Life.
Thanks Champ, for teaching me what it means to live my best life.
Have fun playing with Chris (Parker) tomorrow on his birthday.
And if you get a chance, thank Jesus for that big win over Troy, but also tell Him that we really need His hand this week against Tennessee. We will continue to watch over your little sister (Jarvis) Jones.
Go Dawgs.
Friday, September 19, 2014
I'm So Not A....
Mornings are so hard for me. I'm the worst morning person ever. My husband told me that he was going to call those that I work with, and warn them to give me an hour before they talk to me, because I truly don't wake up until about 10 a.m.
It's true. I was always a morning person in college. I LOVED getting up early, arriving at a local downtown coffee shop right when it opened, getting a cup of coffee on a cold, rainy day, and drinking that warm syrup and studying in the smoke filled room. Yes, the coffee shop I studied at was a coffee shop/bar. But it was mostly a bar. I think maybe me and one other person studied there. And we became fast friends. I wonder what happened to him? Or all of those downtown people I used to hang out with?
I'm getting old.
Where was I going with this? Oh, yes.
The morning person thing ended when my anxiety began. As I've stated before, mornings are hardest for me. I wake up with tremors, shaking violently. It's literally the scariest thing ever. Every night, I usually listen to the broadcast of "Focus on the Family," and last night they featured a woman who suffered from severe anxiety. I almost began weeping when she described her panic. I felt like she was describing my life. I'm really not alone.
But I, for sure, am a bear in the mornings. And sometimes, lately it seems, people have said some not so nice things to me lately. In the morning. Not a good combination.
So, ladies, let's talk weight. I read so many blogs about women trying to get healthy/get in shape, and lose weight and gain muscle mass. Well, I'm doing my best to get healthy, and get in shape as well. And I'm also trying to gain muscle mass. The only difference between you and me, is that I'm trying to GAIN weight. Yes, I'm 5 feet 6 inches and I weigh 107.3 lbs (as of last Friday). And I'm beyond tired of hearing, "Lauren, eat a hamburger."
Really? You think one hamburger is going to do it? I'd eat a thousand double cheeseburgers if it would help me gain weight, and NOT clog my arteries. But it won't.
You should have seen how much pot roast I put down Thursday night. And macaroni and cheese. And green beans. Don't forget the rolls. God bless Wife Saver.
When I turn down cookies at different places, people think it's because I'm watching my weight. Nope. I don't like cookies. Nor am I a huge fan of chocolate. I do love a good milkshake, but I don't like ice cream. I'd much rather have my salty than my sweet.
I've read blog after blog about progress people have made while trying to lose weight, and how they feel so good when their old jeans fit.
I cried yesterday when I put my birthday outfit on. I looked like a skeleton with the clothes draped awkwardly on my bones. The wrinkles on my face and neck are the worst. My collarbones protrude and my shoulder blades stick out. My belly is bloated because of digestive issues I have due to anxiety. I totally know how good it feels when your clothes actually fit.
I really don't like myself right now. My days may be good, I may have windows, and I know that I feel God walking along side of me. But that doesn't change what I see in the mirror, or in photographs.
So if I'm wearing an oversized shirt, or pants that don't fit quite right, please don't tell me that I need to gain weight. Don't assume that I'm anorexic, or that I don't eat. I know I MUST gain weight - for my health. My doctor told me that even with my stomach issues, I cannot afford to lose any more weight. So, I'm trying. I really am.
Just like you wouldn't call an overweight person "fat," please don't call an underweight person "skinny." Especially if she's not a morning person.
Humbly His,
L.
"Let all that I am praise the Lord..." - Psalm 104
It's true. I was always a morning person in college. I LOVED getting up early, arriving at a local downtown coffee shop right when it opened, getting a cup of coffee on a cold, rainy day, and drinking that warm syrup and studying in the smoke filled room. Yes, the coffee shop I studied at was a coffee shop/bar. But it was mostly a bar. I think maybe me and one other person studied there. And we became fast friends. I wonder what happened to him? Or all of those downtown people I used to hang out with?
I'm getting old.
Where was I going with this? Oh, yes.
The morning person thing ended when my anxiety began. As I've stated before, mornings are hardest for me. I wake up with tremors, shaking violently. It's literally the scariest thing ever. Every night, I usually listen to the broadcast of "Focus on the Family," and last night they featured a woman who suffered from severe anxiety. I almost began weeping when she described her panic. I felt like she was describing my life. I'm really not alone.
But I, for sure, am a bear in the mornings. And sometimes, lately it seems, people have said some not so nice things to me lately. In the morning. Not a good combination.
So, ladies, let's talk weight. I read so many blogs about women trying to get healthy/get in shape, and lose weight and gain muscle mass. Well, I'm doing my best to get healthy, and get in shape as well. And I'm also trying to gain muscle mass. The only difference between you and me, is that I'm trying to GAIN weight. Yes, I'm 5 feet 6 inches and I weigh 107.3 lbs (as of last Friday). And I'm beyond tired of hearing, "Lauren, eat a hamburger."
Really? You think one hamburger is going to do it? I'd eat a thousand double cheeseburgers if it would help me gain weight, and NOT clog my arteries. But it won't.
You should have seen how much pot roast I put down Thursday night. And macaroni and cheese. And green beans. Don't forget the rolls. God bless Wife Saver.
When I turn down cookies at different places, people think it's because I'm watching my weight. Nope. I don't like cookies. Nor am I a huge fan of chocolate. I do love a good milkshake, but I don't like ice cream. I'd much rather have my salty than my sweet.
I've read blog after blog about progress people have made while trying to lose weight, and how they feel so good when their old jeans fit.
I cried yesterday when I put my birthday outfit on. I looked like a skeleton with the clothes draped awkwardly on my bones. The wrinkles on my face and neck are the worst. My collarbones protrude and my shoulder blades stick out. My belly is bloated because of digestive issues I have due to anxiety. I totally know how good it feels when your clothes actually fit.
I really don't like myself right now. My days may be good, I may have windows, and I know that I feel God walking along side of me. But that doesn't change what I see in the mirror, or in photographs.
So if I'm wearing an oversized shirt, or pants that don't fit quite right, please don't tell me that I need to gain weight. Don't assume that I'm anorexic, or that I don't eat. I know I MUST gain weight - for my health. My doctor told me that even with my stomach issues, I cannot afford to lose any more weight. So, I'm trying. I really am.
Just like you wouldn't call an overweight person "fat," please don't call an underweight person "skinny." Especially if she's not a morning person.
Humbly His,
L.
"Let all that I am praise the Lord..." - Psalm 104
Thursday, September 18, 2014
A Warm Fuzzy Blanket and a Cup of Coffee (Decaf!)
Lately, I've been reading the Psalms, and I'm loving them. I've read most of them before, but whether you're celebrating, or you're calling out His name in the darkest of times - there's a Psalm for you!
I was reading the other night, and felt so convicted about the state of my heart. Every thought that enters my head and every word that comes from my mouth should all be for HIS glory. Am I doing that? Absolutely not. Am I working on it? Absolutely. I now really feel like I know what it means to be "intentional." And I will continue to do my best to be intentional until I lie at His feet.
I feel SO good today.
Man, it feels really good to say that. Physically, emotionally, spiritually - I feel REALLY good. It's The Grace. And I know that tomorrow it may all change. But tonight, I'm going to savor the goodness of feeling good. And enjoy this window.
Tonight I went running. In my neighborhood. Alone.
This is truly a huge feat for me. No, I didn't go very far, but oh my goodness, I went running alone. I have the biggest fear of exercising. Anytime my heart rate goes up I get nervous. Tonight, I did not once think about my heart rate. And I am so afraid of being alone, always fearing that something will happen to me and no one will be there to help. Tonight, I ran ALONE!
As Dr. Seuss would say, I'm really going places!
What a beautiful day. I had a great day at work. My sweet Miles arrived home safely from Florida. Maris' eyes made my heart melt. And, although I don't get much time alone with Sean in the afternoons, we did take some time to laugh together.
This day, this window, this moment - I'm going to take it all in. I am going to wrap myself in this fleece blanket, sip on my (decaf) coffee and read.
And I'm going to love.
If you need prayer, or a prayer partner, or even just a love partner, contact me through the comments or via Facebook. Let us love one another.
Humbly His,
L.
I was reading the other night, and felt so convicted about the state of my heart. Every thought that enters my head and every word that comes from my mouth should all be for HIS glory. Am I doing that? Absolutely not. Am I working on it? Absolutely. I now really feel like I know what it means to be "intentional." And I will continue to do my best to be intentional until I lie at His feet.
I feel SO good today.
Man, it feels really good to say that. Physically, emotionally, spiritually - I feel REALLY good. It's The Grace. And I know that tomorrow it may all change. But tonight, I'm going to savor the goodness of feeling good. And enjoy this window.
Tonight I went running. In my neighborhood. Alone.
This is truly a huge feat for me. No, I didn't go very far, but oh my goodness, I went running alone. I have the biggest fear of exercising. Anytime my heart rate goes up I get nervous. Tonight, I did not once think about my heart rate. And I am so afraid of being alone, always fearing that something will happen to me and no one will be there to help. Tonight, I ran ALONE!
As Dr. Seuss would say, I'm really going places!
What a beautiful day. I had a great day at work. My sweet Miles arrived home safely from Florida. Maris' eyes made my heart melt. And, although I don't get much time alone with Sean in the afternoons, we did take some time to laugh together.
This day, this window, this moment - I'm going to take it all in. I am going to wrap myself in this fleece blanket, sip on my (decaf) coffee and read.
And I'm going to love.
If you need prayer, or a prayer partner, or even just a love partner, contact me through the comments or via Facebook. Let us love one another.
Humbly His,
L.
Tuesday, September 16, 2014
The Appointment I've Been Praying For...
Whew! Thank God for today!
The appointment with my new psychiatrist was today. I've been waiting for this appointment for two months now. And in my case, two months is a very long time.
After seeing the same psychiatrist for over 10 years, due to issues such as depression, generalized anxiety and panic disorder - change was way overdue. Especially after being told that getting off of medication completely was "not an option." Nuh uh. You don't tell me that.
I WILL get off of this medication. I WILL be a better mama. I WILL be a better wife. I WILL be a more productive worker. AND I WILL advocate for those with anxiety, panic disorder and mental health issues.
So, the appointment. We developed a plan, to where I can completely rid my body of chemicals that have altered my emotions, my brain function and my body period. And I am so very excited.
God has once again shown me The Grace.
So, this transformation should take about 6 weeks. I will go through ups and downs. I will have windows of clarity, and there will be times when I feel just awful. If I become a hermit for a few weeks, then forgive me, please. I'm not trying to be anti-social or cancel plans on purpose. But, with the help of prayer, and God walking right by my side, I hope that my true PURPOSE will shine through.
I really want to help others who are going through the same thing I am/have. It is my calling, to be the feet of Jesus. So, if I can pray with you or just for you, I would love for you to reach out to me - either through a comment on my blog, or through Facebook. I love prayer partners.
And I hope to blog on how I'm feeling each day. We are planning on putting our house on the market, so that should also provide a little distraction for this journey.
Thank you all for walking with me. And praying with me.
And please continue to do so.
Humbly His,
L.
"And the greatest of these is love..." - but HOPE is pretty darn important, too!
The appointment with my new psychiatrist was today. I've been waiting for this appointment for two months now. And in my case, two months is a very long time.
After seeing the same psychiatrist for over 10 years, due to issues such as depression, generalized anxiety and panic disorder - change was way overdue. Especially after being told that getting off of medication completely was "not an option." Nuh uh. You don't tell me that.
I WILL get off of this medication. I WILL be a better mama. I WILL be a better wife. I WILL be a more productive worker. AND I WILL advocate for those with anxiety, panic disorder and mental health issues.
So, the appointment. We developed a plan, to where I can completely rid my body of chemicals that have altered my emotions, my brain function and my body period. And I am so very excited.
God has once again shown me The Grace.
So, this transformation should take about 6 weeks. I will go through ups and downs. I will have windows of clarity, and there will be times when I feel just awful. If I become a hermit for a few weeks, then forgive me, please. I'm not trying to be anti-social or cancel plans on purpose. But, with the help of prayer, and God walking right by my side, I hope that my true PURPOSE will shine through.
I really want to help others who are going through the same thing I am/have. It is my calling, to be the feet of Jesus. So, if I can pray with you or just for you, I would love for you to reach out to me - either through a comment on my blog, or through Facebook. I love prayer partners.
And I hope to blog on how I'm feeling each day. We are planning on putting our house on the market, so that should also provide a little distraction for this journey.
Thank you all for walking with me. And praying with me.
And please continue to do so.
Humbly His,
L.
"And the greatest of these is love..." - but HOPE is pretty darn important, too!
Sunday, September 14, 2014
Self Improvement...Again
"The body of Christ may be built up until we all reach unity in the faith and in the knowledge of the Son of God and become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ." - Ephesians 4:12,13.
I have failed in my self improvement.
Don't get me wrong, my anxiety has been kept at bay, but I haven't quite stuck to my plan. My family has been much happier with me, but I have not been very happy with myself. It is all give and take, this awful disease. I wish it would go away.
Unfortunately, my anxiety has become medication induced. Fortunately, however, I'm going to speak with a doctor to see how I can handle this, as I want to clear my body of all medications. This appointment is on Tuesday, and I would appreciate all of the prayers that you will be willing to offer.
I guess this is the first time I've admitted on this blog that I take medication for anxiety. And it's all prescribed by a physician who I've been seeing for many years, and it's never been abused (I just feel the need to make that clear). I could be on it for the rest of my life, and it would be no big deal (except for decreasing my HDL cholesterol levels, and making me a little more "emotionless"). Once again - please don't judge.
I would love nothing more than to be free of this medication forever, and use the coping skills I've learned from my Life Coach to deal with my anxiety, such as deep breathing, prayer, meditation and distraction.
Unfortunately (I've used that word too many times, but it applies here), I am only able to see my Life Coach a couple of times per month, instead of once per week, because the fee is outrageous - totally not her fault, just the lovely mental health/insurance system for you.
I'm trying to reach out to God, to fill me up when I'm feeling empty. Lately, I've been so restless, feeling like I need more and more, while trying to declutter my life. I have not been praying as I should be. That will change, now.
I love how this blog keeps me intentional. I love how it helps me focus on self improvement, while also focusing on the One who will keep me on track. Without Him, nothing is possible, right?
So, please keep me in your prayers. Please pray for my maturity in Him. And please, especially, keep me in your prayers on Tuesday as I go and try to begin the process (once again) of getting off of this medication.
It's just not an easy thing to do.
Humbly His,
L.
I have failed in my self improvement.
Don't get me wrong, my anxiety has been kept at bay, but I haven't quite stuck to my plan. My family has been much happier with me, but I have not been very happy with myself. It is all give and take, this awful disease. I wish it would go away.
Unfortunately, my anxiety has become medication induced. Fortunately, however, I'm going to speak with a doctor to see how I can handle this, as I want to clear my body of all medications. This appointment is on Tuesday, and I would appreciate all of the prayers that you will be willing to offer.
I guess this is the first time I've admitted on this blog that I take medication for anxiety. And it's all prescribed by a physician who I've been seeing for many years, and it's never been abused (I just feel the need to make that clear). I could be on it for the rest of my life, and it would be no big deal (except for decreasing my HDL cholesterol levels, and making me a little more "emotionless"). Once again - please don't judge.
I would love nothing more than to be free of this medication forever, and use the coping skills I've learned from my Life Coach to deal with my anxiety, such as deep breathing, prayer, meditation and distraction.
Unfortunately (I've used that word too many times, but it applies here), I am only able to see my Life Coach a couple of times per month, instead of once per week, because the fee is outrageous - totally not her fault, just the lovely mental health/insurance system for you.
I'm trying to reach out to God, to fill me up when I'm feeling empty. Lately, I've been so restless, feeling like I need more and more, while trying to declutter my life. I have not been praying as I should be. That will change, now.
I love how this blog keeps me intentional. I love how it helps me focus on self improvement, while also focusing on the One who will keep me on track. Without Him, nothing is possible, right?
So, please keep me in your prayers. Please pray for my maturity in Him. And please, especially, keep me in your prayers on Tuesday as I go and try to begin the process (once again) of getting off of this medication.
It's just not an easy thing to do.
Humbly His,
L.
Friday, September 12, 2014
Frustration/Disappointment
"(Moses') anger burned and he threw the tablets out of his hands, breaking them to pieces at the foot of the mountain." - Exodus 32:19
Have you ever been so frustrated with someone/something, that you wanted to break things?
Ha. I have.
This life is so full of disappointments. And frustrations. And anger. And bitterness.
Oh, the bitterness has been eating away at me this week. I've always heard the saying "Not forgiving someone, is like drinking poison and expecting them to die." I'm sure I totally messed that up, but you get what I'm saying.
I have been drinking that poison, all week long. I have felt hurt and anger and bitterness and frustration. And disappointment. All of these emotions, in the same 30 seconds.
How can people be so unkind?
The lesson I have learned this week has been to let go of expectations. Once you "expect" someone to do something, you're immediately disappointed when they don't follow through. And that failure to follow through can cause some kind of hurt.
I will be honest with you, I have the HARDEST time forgiving people. If you've done something to hurt me, you will probably know it. And I may not trust you again for awhile.
This is just another quality about myself that I am trying to change. I mean, how can I truly call myself a Christian if I don't learn to forgive? If I don't learn to let go of those expectations?
Like Moses, I get mad and I throw and break things (not really, but you get my point). Why am I not showing The Grace to others? Jesus hung upon that cross, so that we may have new life in Him. That's some awesome grace. And I can't forgive a little bit of rudeness, disappointment, unkindness? Where is my heart?
Not in the right place obviously.
My family is exhausted. It's time to crawl in to bed, and let my husband know how much I love him after a devastating loss. Maybe tomorrow, I can find The Grace....and learn to forgive.
Right now, it's time to say my prayers, and sleep with the thought of my Master holding my heart in his hands.
Humbly His,
L.
Have you ever been so frustrated with someone/something, that you wanted to break things?
Ha. I have.
This life is so full of disappointments. And frustrations. And anger. And bitterness.
Oh, the bitterness has been eating away at me this week. I've always heard the saying "Not forgiving someone, is like drinking poison and expecting them to die." I'm sure I totally messed that up, but you get what I'm saying.
I have been drinking that poison, all week long. I have felt hurt and anger and bitterness and frustration. And disappointment. All of these emotions, in the same 30 seconds.
How can people be so unkind?
The lesson I have learned this week has been to let go of expectations. Once you "expect" someone to do something, you're immediately disappointed when they don't follow through. And that failure to follow through can cause some kind of hurt.
I will be honest with you, I have the HARDEST time forgiving people. If you've done something to hurt me, you will probably know it. And I may not trust you again for awhile.
This is just another quality about myself that I am trying to change. I mean, how can I truly call myself a Christian if I don't learn to forgive? If I don't learn to let go of those expectations?
Like Moses, I get mad and I throw and break things (not really, but you get my point). Why am I not showing The Grace to others? Jesus hung upon that cross, so that we may have new life in Him. That's some awesome grace. And I can't forgive a little bit of rudeness, disappointment, unkindness? Where is my heart?
Not in the right place obviously.
My family is exhausted. It's time to crawl in to bed, and let my husband know how much I love him after a devastating loss. Maybe tomorrow, I can find The Grace....and learn to forgive.
Right now, it's time to say my prayers, and sleep with the thought of my Master holding my heart in his hands.
Humbly His,
L.
Tuesday, September 9, 2014
What A Beautiful Day!
I never dreamed that celebrating my 32nd birthday would be exciting. In fact, I didn't want to celebrate at all. After all, once you hit 30, it's just another day (that the Lord has blessed us with, mind you, but just like any other day). Not today, though. My day was wonderful.
It started out with a backlash of comments about my previous blog. Some people appreciated it. They had been in my shoes, they had felt what I felt. Many people felt it was too much. Rude. Unforgiving.
But that's okay. I want people to talk. I want people to know that if I can be forgiven for what I did to others in high school, and in college, anyone can be forgiven. Yep. Anyone.
And we can all learn to love one another. Include one another. Take care of one another.
Anyway - after the dust settled, I woke up to 32. Halfway to 64. One third the way to 96. Fun, right?
Sean took Maris to Nana's house, just so that she could be watched a little more carefully after that awful virus. And he came back home to surprise me while I got ready for work. He gave me a beautifully wrapped box, and I immediately knew where it came from. That wrap job is always the best! I opened up a gorgeous necklace with a citrine heart pendant - Maris' birthstone. I already have a blue topaz ring, Miles' birthstone, and now I have a necklace with Maris' birthstone. One girl wrapped around my finger, the other wrapped around my neck. It's absolutely stunning and the fact that he picked it out himself makes it that much more meaningful.
My little family.
At work, we celebrated with lemon cupcakes and cream cheese frosting. Absolutely delicious.
I picked Miles up from her GiGi and Pops' house, and she had framed for me the most beautiful art pieces, paintings by Miles, of course! I can't wait to hang them in my dining room. They are phenomenal. She is a prodigy, that child.
And she also had her first manners class, dressed in a pink and white gingham dress, with the essential monogram. She shook her teachers hand, told her it was nice to meet her, and off we went to dinner with Sean's mom.
The most wonderful birthday I've ever had.
I am so in love with this family. The family who had made me whole again - even when I am broken. This God who has blessed me with the love that fills the gaps.
I have been so weary, and He has given me rest.
There's no other word to describe it, but Grace. And his grace is sufficient - and abundant.
Just wanted to remember this day forever.
Humbly His,
L.
It started out with a backlash of comments about my previous blog. Some people appreciated it. They had been in my shoes, they had felt what I felt. Many people felt it was too much. Rude. Unforgiving.
But that's okay. I want people to talk. I want people to know that if I can be forgiven for what I did to others in high school, and in college, anyone can be forgiven. Yep. Anyone.
And we can all learn to love one another. Include one another. Take care of one another.
Anyway - after the dust settled, I woke up to 32. Halfway to 64. One third the way to 96. Fun, right?
Sean took Maris to Nana's house, just so that she could be watched a little more carefully after that awful virus. And he came back home to surprise me while I got ready for work. He gave me a beautifully wrapped box, and I immediately knew where it came from. That wrap job is always the best! I opened up a gorgeous necklace with a citrine heart pendant - Maris' birthstone. I already have a blue topaz ring, Miles' birthstone, and now I have a necklace with Maris' birthstone. One girl wrapped around my finger, the other wrapped around my neck. It's absolutely stunning and the fact that he picked it out himself makes it that much more meaningful.
My little family.
At work, we celebrated with lemon cupcakes and cream cheese frosting. Absolutely delicious.
I picked Miles up from her GiGi and Pops' house, and she had framed for me the most beautiful art pieces, paintings by Miles, of course! I can't wait to hang them in my dining room. They are phenomenal. She is a prodigy, that child.
And she also had her first manners class, dressed in a pink and white gingham dress, with the essential monogram. She shook her teachers hand, told her it was nice to meet her, and off we went to dinner with Sean's mom.
The most wonderful birthday I've ever had.
I am so in love with this family. The family who had made me whole again - even when I am broken. This God who has blessed me with the love that fills the gaps.
I have been so weary, and He has given me rest.
There's no other word to describe it, but Grace. And his grace is sufficient - and abundant.
Just wanted to remember this day forever.
Humbly His,
L.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Brutal and Honest
"Two are better than one, because they have good return for their work: If one falls down, his friend can help him up. But pity the man who falls and has no one to help him up!" - Ecclesiastes 4:9-10
Some people make friends so easily. I, however, have never been one of them.
I was always quiet, beginning in elementary school with the severe separation anxiety. I never wanted to talk to anyone in fear of bursting into tears. Middle school was easier. High school was terrible.
And it's gotten worse from there. I don't keep in touch with any of my high school friends, with the exception of my very best friend ever, who knows my heart inside and out. (No, Facebook friends do not count). In fact, Facebook is more of a memory book for my family, not to keep in touch with friends.
I don't speak to anyone from nursing school - maybe that has something to do with what I call "my past life."
I have never been welcomed into a small group at a church. I think this one really hurt the worst. While going through my divorce, a few women slightly older than me reached out and gave me advice, but not one person my age ever sincerely asked me if there was anything they could do. No one asked me to go to dinner. No one asked me to join their Bible Study. No one even asked for my phone number...or gave me theirs. I was completely alone in a time where I was grieving as if someone had just died. (And trust me - that grief never ends).
After two stressful pregnancies, and two painful deliveries/recoveries NO ONE (except for family) ever brought my family a meal. I didn't have a friend who offered to bring dinner and occupy Miles while I took a shower, because Sean was back at work.
Lately, with what I've been going through, dealing with anxiety and heavy heartedness, I have had four friends who have reached out to me, through my blog. And that has kept me going.
Sean and I do not go out with other couples, and many of our invitations to dinners at our home are turned down.
My girls are not invited on playdates, and I pray that that changes soon.
On the flip side, I know I've made my mistakes as a friend. I have neglected friendships and made terrible decisions, but the one person that I hurt the worst has forgiven me, asking no questions, and we talk pretty much everyday.
But I feel like I've grown as a person, taking the lessons I have learned from my own error, and reading the Bible. In the entry way to my home hangs a painting that says "Love others, as I first loved you." Every time I see that painting I am reminded to go out into the day and love someone who may be going through a rough time. To take goodies to a family who has just had a baby. To love on a family who may be having a rough go of things.
And what people do not understand is that I am a very contemplative person - who is usually in deep thought. I don't not smile because I'm not happy. I'm usually just thinking about something that is heavy on my mind. I believe I have what they call "RBF," and I won't go into what it means, but basically I have to make myself smile. I love to smile, but it's just not naturally on my face at all times. And I already have wrinkles on my forehead from thinking too hard.
I absolutely know I'm not the easiest loving person on the planet, trust me. But I will do ANYTHING for a friend, as long as it is for the good of them and/or their children.
Please do not think that I'm lying on my living room couch, wallowing in self pity. I'm not. Sean and the girls and I have made a lovely life for ourselves, and we entertain with each other. We have our own games and have learned to "play" by ourselves. Miles is in ballet and being socialized in that aspect, and she also begins a "Molly Manners" class tomorrow evening. (Please say at least 10 prayers tomorrow that it makes a difference!)
I just don't understand why everyone can't love everyone? I remember speaking to one person this summer, and her getting up from her seat and walking away. And that hurt has stayed with me for a few months now. I'm not judging - maybe she was just having a bad day. But it took a lot for me to speak to this person, only to have her turn away.
Really? Do people really act that way?
I am so envious (I know that's a sin - but I'm pouring my heart out here) of people who have friends they go out to dinner with every other week. Friends that have "Wine and Appetizer Nights" at each others homes.
No, Sean and I can't always do everything - we do have very important little people who take up a lot of our time!
But am I the only one who's feeling this way? That feels left out of things? Left out of the groups who have kids clothing parties, or those who go to dinner a few nights a month?
I am going to end this post on a positive note. Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me to express myself through my blog. Thank you for the sweet note card, left in my work mailbox. Thank you for the multiple Facebook messages. Thank you for letting me know that you care.
And please - if you ever need a friend. Please call on me. I could use the companionship. And if you're struggling, please let me take you out for a cup of coffee (even if it is "No Spend September.")
Humbly His,
L.
Some people make friends so easily. I, however, have never been one of them.
I was always quiet, beginning in elementary school with the severe separation anxiety. I never wanted to talk to anyone in fear of bursting into tears. Middle school was easier. High school was terrible.
And it's gotten worse from there. I don't keep in touch with any of my high school friends, with the exception of my very best friend ever, who knows my heart inside and out. (No, Facebook friends do not count). In fact, Facebook is more of a memory book for my family, not to keep in touch with friends.
I don't speak to anyone from nursing school - maybe that has something to do with what I call "my past life."
I have never been welcomed into a small group at a church. I think this one really hurt the worst. While going through my divorce, a few women slightly older than me reached out and gave me advice, but not one person my age ever sincerely asked me if there was anything they could do. No one asked me to go to dinner. No one asked me to join their Bible Study. No one even asked for my phone number...or gave me theirs. I was completely alone in a time where I was grieving as if someone had just died. (And trust me - that grief never ends).
After two stressful pregnancies, and two painful deliveries/recoveries NO ONE (except for family) ever brought my family a meal. I didn't have a friend who offered to bring dinner and occupy Miles while I took a shower, because Sean was back at work.
Lately, with what I've been going through, dealing with anxiety and heavy heartedness, I have had four friends who have reached out to me, through my blog. And that has kept me going.
Sean and I do not go out with other couples, and many of our invitations to dinners at our home are turned down.
My girls are not invited on playdates, and I pray that that changes soon.
On the flip side, I know I've made my mistakes as a friend. I have neglected friendships and made terrible decisions, but the one person that I hurt the worst has forgiven me, asking no questions, and we talk pretty much everyday.
But I feel like I've grown as a person, taking the lessons I have learned from my own error, and reading the Bible. In the entry way to my home hangs a painting that says "Love others, as I first loved you." Every time I see that painting I am reminded to go out into the day and love someone who may be going through a rough time. To take goodies to a family who has just had a baby. To love on a family who may be having a rough go of things.
And what people do not understand is that I am a very contemplative person - who is usually in deep thought. I don't not smile because I'm not happy. I'm usually just thinking about something that is heavy on my mind. I believe I have what they call "RBF," and I won't go into what it means, but basically I have to make myself smile. I love to smile, but it's just not naturally on my face at all times. And I already have wrinkles on my forehead from thinking too hard.
I absolutely know I'm not the easiest loving person on the planet, trust me. But I will do ANYTHING for a friend, as long as it is for the good of them and/or their children.
Please do not think that I'm lying on my living room couch, wallowing in self pity. I'm not. Sean and the girls and I have made a lovely life for ourselves, and we entertain with each other. We have our own games and have learned to "play" by ourselves. Miles is in ballet and being socialized in that aspect, and she also begins a "Molly Manners" class tomorrow evening. (Please say at least 10 prayers tomorrow that it makes a difference!)
I just don't understand why everyone can't love everyone? I remember speaking to one person this summer, and her getting up from her seat and walking away. And that hurt has stayed with me for a few months now. I'm not judging - maybe she was just having a bad day. But it took a lot for me to speak to this person, only to have her turn away.
Really? Do people really act that way?
I am so envious (I know that's a sin - but I'm pouring my heart out here) of people who have friends they go out to dinner with every other week. Friends that have "Wine and Appetizer Nights" at each others homes.
No, Sean and I can't always do everything - we do have very important little people who take up a lot of our time!
But am I the only one who's feeling this way? That feels left out of things? Left out of the groups who have kids clothing parties, or those who go to dinner a few nights a month?
I am going to end this post on a positive note. Thank you to everyone who has encouraged me to express myself through my blog. Thank you for the sweet note card, left in my work mailbox. Thank you for the multiple Facebook messages. Thank you for letting me know that you care.
And please - if you ever need a friend. Please call on me. I could use the companionship. And if you're struggling, please let me take you out for a cup of coffee (even if it is "No Spend September.")
Humbly His,
L.
Sunday, September 7, 2014
A Little Sunday Night Perspective...
"News about Him spread as far as Syria, and people soon began bringing to him all who were sick. And whatever their sickness or disease, or if they were demon possessed or epileptic or paralyzed - He healed them all." - Matthew 4:24
This weekend has not gone as planned. Thursday evening, I ended up at the After Hours Clinic with Maris (10 months) who had a fever of 102. The doctor, much to my chagrin, was in and out of the room in three minutes. Literally, he spent three minutes examining her. She was his last patient, he was ready to go.
I was annoyed. Especially when I woke up to go to work the next morning, and Maris was screaming, with a fever of 102.6. Fevers scare me. They always have. I guess working on an Oncology floor, I know how damaging a fever can be for a baby, or anyone who is immunocompromised.
Friday, I left work a little early to meet my mom at the doctor with Maris. Turns out, she had an ear infection in her left ear (which was made evident by the high pitched, deafening scream she let out when the PA placed the otoscope in her ear.) She started Amoxicillin (aka - Bubblegum Medicine) that night and was happy as could be on Saturday.
Jump to Sunday. She woke up this morning around 4:30, screaming until she couldn't breathe. Sean and I assumed it was her ear. I rocked her while he fixed her Ibuprofen and a bottle....a concoction sweet enough to send her back into her slumber. We all got up, went to church, and the girls and I went to my mama's house after lunch.
And Maris ate. And ate. And ate. Garden vegetables. Cereal. Blueberries. Rice and peas. That girl loves to eat, and it was SO good to see her get her appetite back after having lost it with the ear infection.
I laid both girls down for a nap after my lunch, and snuggled up on the oversized chair in my parents living room. It didn't take me long to begin dreaming. And just like that, I was woken up by a screaming baby. A blood curdling scream. Mama rocked her and rocked her, and kept saying "Lauren, she's in pain. Something's wrong." I got on the phone with the after hours nurse, who told me home care was best....until Maris threw up. All. Over. My. Mom.
The after hours nurse told me to go to the ER immediately. I didn't want to overreact, like I often do in these situations, so I decided to wait it out. Until her temperature started climbing again. Sean came home from his meeting and off to the ER we went.
Sick babies are pitiful, no doubt, but this baby was especially pitiful. She laid limp in Seans arms, staring off into space, skin clammy, not really grasping onto my finger. Poor precious soul. I didn't think it could get any worse.
And then a father wheeled his little girl into the ER, in her stroller. A little girl with bits of hair, here and there on her head. She must have been three or four years old, still holding on to the comforts of a paci. Probably one of the only "security blankets" she has. This sweet girl obviously had cancer. My heart shattered right there. I could only stare, my mind racing about what her parents were going through, how they were managing, how she was managing? I had one healthy three year old running around the ER lobby, a viral 10 month old in my arms, who will regain her strength in a couple of days. And this precious child who is most likely facing the fight of her life. Already. At three years old.
Seriously?
I accepted the fact that I was desperately worried about Maris, but took inventory of what I should and should not be worried about in my life. Neither of my girls have cancer. My husband doesn't have cancer. My mom (thank God) and my dad don't have cancer. My grandparents don't have cancer. I have SO much to be thankful for.
It does not clearly state how many people Jesus healed in the book of Matthew. But I'm sure some of them were children, and some of them had cancer. Please, if you take the time to read my blog, please take the time to pray for this precious child and her precious parents. And to all of those who are sick, hurting, in need. Pray for them. We never realize how good we have it, until....
Oh yeah....and please pray for my Maris.
Humbly His,
L.
This weekend has not gone as planned. Thursday evening, I ended up at the After Hours Clinic with Maris (10 months) who had a fever of 102. The doctor, much to my chagrin, was in and out of the room in three minutes. Literally, he spent three minutes examining her. She was his last patient, he was ready to go.
I was annoyed. Especially when I woke up to go to work the next morning, and Maris was screaming, with a fever of 102.6. Fevers scare me. They always have. I guess working on an Oncology floor, I know how damaging a fever can be for a baby, or anyone who is immunocompromised.
Friday, I left work a little early to meet my mom at the doctor with Maris. Turns out, she had an ear infection in her left ear (which was made evident by the high pitched, deafening scream she let out when the PA placed the otoscope in her ear.) She started Amoxicillin (aka - Bubblegum Medicine) that night and was happy as could be on Saturday.
Jump to Sunday. She woke up this morning around 4:30, screaming until she couldn't breathe. Sean and I assumed it was her ear. I rocked her while he fixed her Ibuprofen and a bottle....a concoction sweet enough to send her back into her slumber. We all got up, went to church, and the girls and I went to my mama's house after lunch.
And Maris ate. And ate. And ate. Garden vegetables. Cereal. Blueberries. Rice and peas. That girl loves to eat, and it was SO good to see her get her appetite back after having lost it with the ear infection.
I laid both girls down for a nap after my lunch, and snuggled up on the oversized chair in my parents living room. It didn't take me long to begin dreaming. And just like that, I was woken up by a screaming baby. A blood curdling scream. Mama rocked her and rocked her, and kept saying "Lauren, she's in pain. Something's wrong." I got on the phone with the after hours nurse, who told me home care was best....until Maris threw up. All. Over. My. Mom.
The after hours nurse told me to go to the ER immediately. I didn't want to overreact, like I often do in these situations, so I decided to wait it out. Until her temperature started climbing again. Sean came home from his meeting and off to the ER we went.
Sick babies are pitiful, no doubt, but this baby was especially pitiful. She laid limp in Seans arms, staring off into space, skin clammy, not really grasping onto my finger. Poor precious soul. I didn't think it could get any worse.
And then a father wheeled his little girl into the ER, in her stroller. A little girl with bits of hair, here and there on her head. She must have been three or four years old, still holding on to the comforts of a paci. Probably one of the only "security blankets" she has. This sweet girl obviously had cancer. My heart shattered right there. I could only stare, my mind racing about what her parents were going through, how they were managing, how she was managing? I had one healthy three year old running around the ER lobby, a viral 10 month old in my arms, who will regain her strength in a couple of days. And this precious child who is most likely facing the fight of her life. Already. At three years old.
Seriously?
I accepted the fact that I was desperately worried about Maris, but took inventory of what I should and should not be worried about in my life. Neither of my girls have cancer. My husband doesn't have cancer. My mom (thank God) and my dad don't have cancer. My grandparents don't have cancer. I have SO much to be thankful for.
It does not clearly state how many people Jesus healed in the book of Matthew. But I'm sure some of them were children, and some of them had cancer. Please, if you take the time to read my blog, please take the time to pray for this precious child and her precious parents. And to all of those who are sick, hurting, in need. Pray for them. We never realize how good we have it, until....
Oh yeah....and please pray for my Maris.
Humbly His,
L.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
The Grace
"Always, the failing. I yell at children, fester with bitterness, forget doctor appointments, lose library books, live selfishly, skip prayer, complain, go to bed too late, neglect cleaning the toilets. I live tired. Afraid. Anxious. Weary. Years, I feel it in the veins, the pulsing of ruptured hopes. Would I ever be enough, find enough, do enough? But this morning, I wake wildly wanting to live." - Ann Voskamp, one thousand gifts
This woman rocks her words. They hit me, right in my stomach, knock the breath right out of me. She speaks TRUTH. She speaks REALITY. She speaks THE WORD. HIS word.
I have struggled the past few weeks. And if hell is worse than that, I for sure don't want to end up there. I have been so sleep deprived, that I honestly don't know how I've put one foot in front of the other.
Wait a minute. Yes - actually, I do know how one foot fell in front of the other. It's called "grace." The Grace. Want to know the most wonderful thing of all? God has an unlimited supply of Grace. It rains down on us daily. Now whether we choose to accept it? That's another issue entirely.
Today, I woke up and something was just different. I didn't feel well initially - but I put it out of my brain. Satan was not going to get me today. My house has fresh flowers, the pitter patter of feet on the hardwoods make my heart skip a beat. The handsomeness of that man, lying with one arm above his head in his recliner. I did swoon a little bit.
Grace.
The anxiety has been hell for two weeks. I've lost at least 5 lbs, but like the mirror, I avoid the scale. My ribs are visible, my collarbone protrudes. The bags under my eyes are prominent and gray. My skin is cracked and broken, as are my lips.
But today's Grace. I want to live. I want to celebrate. I want to love.
I am falling in love with Jesus all over again. His love for me brings me comfort. And yes, I'm seeking help, and still working with my life coach who breathes HIS words into me.
The past two weeks, I've been Daniel in the lions den. Gnashing teeth, drooling over my flesh, walking circles around me. The anxiety. But like Daniel, God's been watching over me. And my husband. And my girls.
It's time for me to live. By His Grace alone, I will. And I may be thrown into the lion's den again. That's okay, though. I know who's watching over me.
Humbly His,
L.
This woman rocks her words. They hit me, right in my stomach, knock the breath right out of me. She speaks TRUTH. She speaks REALITY. She speaks THE WORD. HIS word.
I have struggled the past few weeks. And if hell is worse than that, I for sure don't want to end up there. I have been so sleep deprived, that I honestly don't know how I've put one foot in front of the other.
Wait a minute. Yes - actually, I do know how one foot fell in front of the other. It's called "grace." The Grace. Want to know the most wonderful thing of all? God has an unlimited supply of Grace. It rains down on us daily. Now whether we choose to accept it? That's another issue entirely.
Today, I woke up and something was just different. I didn't feel well initially - but I put it out of my brain. Satan was not going to get me today. My house has fresh flowers, the pitter patter of feet on the hardwoods make my heart skip a beat. The handsomeness of that man, lying with one arm above his head in his recliner. I did swoon a little bit.
Grace.
The anxiety has been hell for two weeks. I've lost at least 5 lbs, but like the mirror, I avoid the scale. My ribs are visible, my collarbone protrudes. The bags under my eyes are prominent and gray. My skin is cracked and broken, as are my lips.
But today's Grace. I want to live. I want to celebrate. I want to love.
I am falling in love with Jesus all over again. His love for me brings me comfort. And yes, I'm seeking help, and still working with my life coach who breathes HIS words into me.
The past two weeks, I've been Daniel in the lions den. Gnashing teeth, drooling over my flesh, walking circles around me. The anxiety. But like Daniel, God's been watching over me. And my husband. And my girls.
It's time for me to live. By His Grace alone, I will. And I may be thrown into the lion's den again. That's okay, though. I know who's watching over me.
Humbly His,
L.
Sunday, August 31, 2014
Praying for Better Days.
I haven't looked in a mirror in at least a week.
Okay, so maybe I've taken glimpses, here or there, but completely by accident. When I put my makeup on, I squint so I can't get the full effect. I take baths in the dark. I avoid the mirror like I avoid anyone who has a stomach virus. Or a cold.
I'm sure I have tremendous bags under my eyes. In fact, I know I do, because my husband took a picture of me yesterday and I had to use a filter to eliminate them.
This anxiety. I won't say it's killing me, because I pray that it's not, but its doing a darn good job of making me feel like it. If I go out, I'm wearing a hat to hide my worn face. But I rarely go out. I listen to church sermons online. The only thing I make myself do is play with my girls, and go to work. Only because we can't afford for me not to work and I will NOT let my girls suffer because of this terrible illness that has a GRIP on me.
This past week I had a HUGE setback. I'm trying to recover, and I'm thankful for the long weekend, so that I can nap when the girls nap.
I don't know what else to say. I'm so very tired of being so miserable, when the blessings of life surround me.
I only post this to help others who may be in my same position. Please do not judge. I'm doing the best I can.
Giving it all to Him, He who can heal me -
L.
Okay, so maybe I've taken glimpses, here or there, but completely by accident. When I put my makeup on, I squint so I can't get the full effect. I take baths in the dark. I avoid the mirror like I avoid anyone who has a stomach virus. Or a cold.
I'm sure I have tremendous bags under my eyes. In fact, I know I do, because my husband took a picture of me yesterday and I had to use a filter to eliminate them.
This anxiety. I won't say it's killing me, because I pray that it's not, but its doing a darn good job of making me feel like it. If I go out, I'm wearing a hat to hide my worn face. But I rarely go out. I listen to church sermons online. The only thing I make myself do is play with my girls, and go to work. Only because we can't afford for me not to work and I will NOT let my girls suffer because of this terrible illness that has a GRIP on me.
This past week I had a HUGE setback. I'm trying to recover, and I'm thankful for the long weekend, so that I can nap when the girls nap.
I don't know what else to say. I'm so very tired of being so miserable, when the blessings of life surround me.
I only post this to help others who may be in my same position. Please do not judge. I'm doing the best I can.
Giving it all to Him, He who can heal me -
L.
Tuesday, August 19, 2014
Broken - But Beautiful
Those that know the dynamics of my family know that it is broken. I am divorced, my oldest child a gloriously wonderful product of that broken marriage. She is so glorious. And she is so wonderful. And I thank God for that marriage, because without it, I would not have her. And although she is becoming more and more "cantankerous," my love for her grows leaps and bounds...everyday.
Someone once told me that they did not know a child that came from a broken home, who was well adjusted. Ouch. That hurt. So, because of my and my ex-husbands problems, my child will be broken forever?
Nope. Don't think so.
Yes, I do worry about her and maybe, I do sometimes overcompensate.
But this child. She is something.
And God has great plans for her.
My "life coach" and I were talking today, about how scared I get when I'm alone with my girls...because, of course, when I'm alone with them is when something terrible will happen to me, and no one will be there to protect them. They will witness something horrible and then be alone without anyone to care for them for hours. And then they will be scarred for the rest of their lives. (A blog post about my intrusive thoughts will be posted later).
I told my coach about how this person mentioned that sweet girl would never be "quite right." She immediately disagreed. She then began to tell me that it was the broken that make something beautiful. It doesn't matter how you grow up. Whether you have two parents, or step-parents, or one parent, or are a foster child - Jesus uses the difficulties in your life for the good of His will.
YES.
Beauty from the ashes. I have always believed this, and will continue to look for it in my girls lives.
My sweet three year old has so much potential. I know that she will fill any void in her life with things that are beautiful and of the Lord. I will teach her to go to Scripture when she feels sadness or fear. I will let her know that God is the One to turn to when she is confused and needs answers. I will do my best to help her with her "worldly" problems, but there are questions that I will not be able to answer and feelings that I will not be able to feel for her. She will have to do it alone, with God.
Sweet M. will be well adjusted. She will walk out of this phase with the grace that the Lord gave her on that cross.
We are ALL broken in our own ways. Dirty, yucky, disgusting. But we are also beautiful. Beautiful children of the one who died for us. We are broken - but beautiful.
I can't say it enough - to Him, I am indebted forever.
Humbly His,
L.
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