Sunday, May 18, 2014

How He Loves Us...

"We are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes. If His grace is an ocean, we're all sinking. And heaven meets earth with an unforeseen kiss, and my heart turns violently inside of my chest,
And I don't have time to maintain these regrets as I think about the way that He loves us. 

Oh how He loves us..." 
                              - John Mark McMillan 

Regrets that I can't, nor should I strive to, maintain:

- not being present for Theo's birth...
- our baby spending 4 months in the NICU without us...
- not finding the shorter route to Fairfax until the very last time we made the trip...
- not protesting the G-tube installation...
- agreeing to have a sleep study performed on a one-year old...
- disregarding God's voice speaking "do not worry, I know how much you want this" in order to cling to my default of anxiety...
- losing my tired temper... Repeatedly...
- not planning a party for Theo's first birthday... 
- missing out entirely on his second birthday...
- disregarding our budget...
- not carrying the baby who was on oxygen as much as I carried the one who was not...
- being unable to ever repay the help we have been given over & over & over again...
- struggling to focus on the improvements he's making over how "slowly" he's making them...
- not being present for the other three kiddos...

... There are more. 

I'm writing this list, not to self deprecate or beg for encouragement... after all, logic alone could eliminate the majority of the list... but to claim for myself the love of Christ that allows me to choose to not maintain my regrets. My feelings are constantly being drawn toward guilt, worry, fear, regret, and the pride of self hatred... But I don't have to default. I can choose instead to allow the perfect love of God to fill all the imperfections of my life, my week, my moments... Jesus has redeemed more than just my sins. 

As I struggle through the tough end of a week-long hospital stay 2 hours from home, the Holy Spirit causes thanksgiving to flow from my tired attitude. I don't want to still be here. I don't want to hear "not today", I don't want to miss the conference and graduation ceremony we've been planning for half a year, I don't want to wrestle an uncomfortable baby into sleep at 2AM... But I get to. 

I get to do the hard things it takes to be Theo's mom. I see a small picture of redemption in holding him all week while he's on oxygen in the PICU as his parent... Redemption of time he spent in a hospital without us. And while logic or encouragement could theoretically diffuse the regrets that I should not carry... It's having the perfect love of the all-seeing God inspite of all that I regret that truly sets me free. So it's here in the lengthy silence of the hospital room that I grow deeper in allowing God's grace to really be enough for my everything every day. 


Wednesday, May 14, 2014

Hospital Vacation

For Mother's Day this year Theo decided to surprise me with a vacation. He picked the time, set the location, even arranged the transportation... 
Thoughtful little fellow...

And at the risk of sounding like a awful mother... I'm actually enjoying our spur of the moment get away. I'm not enjoying his RSV (hence the synergist vaccines he was injected with all "RSV season" to prevent this), or his sleepiness, or the tubes, or his struggle breathing... But there are some reasons that I'm probably having a better week than you...

1) Snugglefest
That's what's happening here, people. Being upright helps him clear the junk out of his lungs. So I hold him and we rock and he cuddles and sleeps. This is primarily how he can decipher daytime from nighttime here. Nighttime he sleeps in the bed. Daytime he sleeps on mom. Days of solid snuggle time don't happen at home, so I'm stocking up here for the price of a bunch of mucus on my shoulder. 

2) Better Odds
At home it's 2 on 4. This keeps the man & me in perpetual motion. Here it's like 40 on 1. Seriously. I can just sit and rock the baby while meds are given, laundry is done, the room is cleaned, boogers are retrieved from the nose and throat with a mini vacuum, food is prepared and delivered... There's a team of people caring for my child instead of one person caring for a team of children. Although that's what Brice is currently doing at home (AND looking good), but I'm able to help line up sitters and meals and reschedule appointments with ease. I never knew what a breeze texting and phone calls could be when not shin deep in laundry and dishes and appointments with two toddlers on my hips!

3) Restaraunts and Shopping
I sat in the hot sunshine and ate Panera Bread for lunch today (& yesterday). This definitely qualifies as a vacation. I soaked in the sun and ate delicious carbohydrates by myself. It was incredibly restorative. Then I got to bargain shop at target. (I bought the cutest fedora for $2.48... I might have a hat problem.) Seriously, folks! Y'all keep asking me how I'm holding up while I'm sipping Starbucks! I feel like I should be baking you meals! Of course I don't have a stove available to me at the moment... But I could arrange a meal to be delivered via text message since we already established that I've currently got ample time for that.

4) Friends
I'm about 2 hours away from home and yet I've had 5 visitors in 3 days. Coffee and calories were delivered when I hadn't eaten all day. Balloons and baked goods were dropped off. Much needed conversation and prayer was had. On top of that I've received countless texts and messages of support and encouragement and offers of help. I bet you could use a visitor or some encouragement where you are... So know that wherever you are right now you are deeply loved and passionately pursued.

5) Jesus' Peace
Your prayers are being heeded. Jesus' presence is very evident to my heart, in my mind, and in Theo's health. Yes he has RSV. Yes he's hooked up to many wires and tubes. Yes it's hard on my heart to see him struggle. But thank The Lord it's just RSV. It will pass. He will heal. We're just managing the symptoms. We're amongst kids battling heart issues, bad accidents and cancer. We are sitting pretty with a virus. 

Sure, worry continuously beckons my mind... "Will this mean he has to return to at home O2 use?" "Did he go too long at home with dangerously low O2 sats and damage his brain?" "Am I scarring my other three children by being away this week when we already have to be away from them next week?" "Are the nurses judging me for being gone for lunch for this long?"... But God is answering each question I throw at Him with a deep, lasting, sweet peace. 

I don't know how long we'll have to stay here. But I know peace for this moment. And I can trust there will be peace for the moments to come. And if you had any clue how difficult sitting still indoors is for me, you too would recognize this as a miracle. I'm not working real hard to convince myself that Jesus is in control... I'm simply convinced that I'm not, and intentionally hearing Him whisper to my heart that He indeed is. 

So maybe my week is kinda way better than yours has been going. But what if it has less to do with my Mother's Day hospital get away, and more with the voice of Jesus speaking to the ears of my heart? It's not like I have any more control of life when it's "normal" anyways. 

“Peace I leave with you. My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Your heart must not be troubled or fearful." John 14:27

Sunday, May 11, 2014

Teachers, Nurses & Moms... Oh My!

May is a big month. 
Apparently this is a big week. 

According to my sources on Facebook and the google machine, this week has been the time when we spend our appreciation on teachers, on nurses, and on mothers. 

Good thing I have such a deep well of appreciation from which to draw...

Teachers...

You teach. Some of you get paid. None of you get paid enough. You teach in schools and churches and on fields and in garages and in theaters and in homes... Wherever students may be. 

You teach because you can't help it. It flows from you. It burns inside you. You crave the next "ah ha" moment. You must explain deeper, different, again... Until that light appears in the student's eyes. Then you keep going. Because you know more moments, more connections, more growth lies ahead. 

You don't give up. Even when you threaten to. No matter how hard they make it on you. Even though you seem to have more reasons to halt than to press on. Even when you no longer carry the title. You keep on teaching. It's a part of who you are. 

I appreciate how you have and do shape me. I am indebted to you for the way you invest in my kids. Thank you for doing what you do. Thank you for being who you are. 

Nurses...

You care. You really, truly care. You have blurry lines between patients and family... If any lines at all. You have the dirty, repetitive, tedious, tricky, painful, constant, messy, body-fluid-filled, hands on, heart in... job. And you are needed. 

Your hours are insane. Your patience is proven. Your tears fall. Your jaw sets. Your knowledge is helpful, but it's your compassion that is truly reassuring. 

You answer questions that you're not paid for. You do the research and prescribe the cure and administer the shots. You receive texts that assume you're a premie-Down syndrome-feeding tube- pulmonology-rash-fever expert. And you answer me. And reassure me. And care for my kids, and parents, and me. Thank you for caring. 

Moms...

She who bore me is a teacher. The one whose son chose me, a nurse. How rich my life is. 

How much you have taught me... How thankful I am that the lessons continue still. How great you have cared for me... How much your knowledgable compassion has carried me. 

Your chosen professions have enriched my days. You, yourselves have shaped my life... and the lives of those who call me mom. Your grace, honesty, acceptance, cheering, support, generosity, food, housing, hugs, advice, medical supplies, child care, encouragement, road trips, phone calls, holiday celebrations, struggles, hopes, forgiveness, prayers, loyalty... and more teach me and bring me healing. 

I am who I am because you are who you are.

You are appreciated.