Living, Laughing, Loving, Learning

Hello my friends! 

It has been nearly a year since I have written and I am sorry. So, first, an update on life. 

I had another brain surgery last December. 

 Most of us who know Jesus know this verse I think. We claim this verse. We hold on to this verse with both hands. We might simplify it a little too much sometimes….

 But it is beautiful, and I love it. That promise is breathtaking. 

 So, when you get to see absolute beautiful good come directly from ugly bad, you have to take a moment and rejoice in it. 

Her literal feet may not be as strong as they use to be but those “high places of challenge and responsibility” are still there, as is her calling for HIS purpose. 

 Pray that reminder over her then, please my friends, grab ahold of it for yourself. 

 God places us in strange, hard, heavy places sometimes. I know that. I understand. I promise. 

 Please, take a moment to read these pretty picture verses again. “In All things”. “You alone Lord”. “planned in advance.” “Walk on my high places.”

 Remember that He is there, walking with you. In ALL things. 

 Be blessed my friends. 

 I have been quiet again. God asked me to trust Him and sometimes that happens best when I am just quiet. But to give an example of how I have been feeling... I literally cried on my physical therapist last week, about things having nothing to do with physical therapy. 

 As always, my Savior sent me back to The Word and reminded me that HE has filled it with everything I need. 

 Oh, that simple truth. Trust. The next part of that scripture in the NKJV, how I learned it as a child, says “and lean not on your own understanding.” 

 What is my understanding? What do I truly know? When I take a moment to be still and consider that question I am reminded of truth. My understanding belongs only to me. It isn’t the same as Andy’s or Canaan’s or Zion’s. It doesn’t match that of my mother or my sisters or my best friends. The people that I love the most and that I trust to love me still don’t have the same “understanding” as I do. They don’t see from the same angle and don’t have the same set of memories to match it all to. 

 They don’t understand me, not really. 

 I don’t understand me, not really.

 My opinions have changed over time. My experiences have taught me different things as I have lived them. The only truth I truly have, the unchanging and constant truth, is my Jesus. 

 And this sounds political. Interesting that HE has me posting it the day after election while we wait for the counts to come through, since that isn’t the point of this at all. This is medical, as usual. 

 My truth, as always, is that our bodies are temporary. We live. We die. We leave behind what we have done or not done, and the love we have shared or not shared. 

 It has been a rough few weeks. First; Zion is fine, but some blood work gave us a scare and called for more blood work. Stress for a mommy. 

 Andy’s time in airborne decided to show itself and cause some pain. Once again, back to the doc. 

 I am recovering really well from brain surgery, but memory is being problematic. I am training myself to just write everything down. No trusting the brain to remind me- that is what “notes” on the iPhone was invented for, right? 

 But God decided to make sure I truly meant it when I declared Joy above fear and trust in all things. The “C” word made an appearance. 

 I had a mole on my forearm that had changed shape, size and color, so Andy, amazing, wonderful, bossy man that he is, insisted that I get it looked at. Family doc removed a sample, like the 10 or so others through the years and I expected to be done with the whole thing, but no, this one had to be difficult and have cancer show up in it. 

 So, they cut out the whole thing, plus quite a bit more. I really should have educated myself more because this is going to be a much bigger scar than I expected! 

I decided this morning it was time for Job again.  I return to that book over and over, and every time I learn something new. My fabulous Savior teaches me something new.
 This time I am reading a book, Portraits of Perseverance, by Henry Gariepy, along with it. I am only on page 17, so I can’t really say much yet, but this poem struck me this morning.

 One ship drives east and another drives west
With the selfsame winds that blow.
‘Tis the set of the sails
And not the gales
Which tells us the way to go.

Like the winds of the sea are the ways of fate,
As we voyage along through life:
‘Tis the set of the soul
That decides the goal
And not the calm or the strife. 

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

The wind can be strong. The storms can be rough. Sometimes it may feel that we have nothing to say about where we are going and how we will get there.
 And yet...it is still our choice where we set the sails.
 It is our decision whether we try.
 It is our decision whether we trust.

 And trust, trust is the word.

 As the Psalms say so beautifully, we KNOW who stirs the winds. We KNOW who calms the winds.

https://www.bible.com/116/psa.107.25,29.nlt

 I have been "sick" almost my whole life. Diabetes was diagnosed over 25 years ago.
 Sick is normal. Sick is just who I am. Sometimes I realize how different I am, but most of the time I just take it for granted. Perhaps everyone else does too? No one is truly average, right? We all have something that sets us apart. Something that makes us different than everyone else.

 I am struggling with what to focus on today, writing this up. Andy wants me to express myself more often. He wants me to share my emotions, like I did years ago on this blog.
 What is right to share? How much depth do people really want to hear?

 I guess I have this desire to be perfect. To only express the "right" emotions. So, what is right?

Strength... or the honesty of weakness?
Peace... or the honesty of fear?
Happiness...or the honesty of sometimes being overwhelmed with the lack of it?

 Joy, which is not happiness, remains constant. I would have not survived without the strength that comes from the Joy of Jesus being first place in my life. Happiness comes and goes.

 I suppose we should stick with some honesty.

 The IVIG, that I wrote about last (about 18 months ago) didn’t fix the seizures. It did, however, help me to stop throwing up, so I still celebrate it. We tried one other treatment with the doc at Emory, that I can’t even remember the name of, then, dad’s cancer came back and everything else, EVERYTHING, got placed in a back corner. We had almost three months of trying to appreciate every moment of life. Then we had at least three months of grief making life a blur.
 But, around June several of the people who love me most pointed out that I hadn’t been to the doc in far too long. Emory had done nothing to draw me back to them (they never called to say “where are you,” never emailed to say “we have meds for you”. Nothing) so I asked my family doc to place a referral to UAB.
 They got me an appt. on July first- the first day Andy was back from “camp”. Got me in the hospital for a VEEG observation Aug 8-12, and after getting to see three seizures, added me to the “pre-surgery” list.

 Yes, brain surgery.

I feel like I have spent all of September at UAB, or on the road between UAB and Troy. Andy says it is time to start writing about it. This is just the summary. I am going to try to write about what God is teaching me, what emotions are surrounding me, and what knowledge the medical world is passing along to me as we wait to figure this out.

 We are just waiting right this minute. More tests. More doctors discussing my brain. But maybe there will be someone else, somewhere else, who is looking at the same thing and needs to read about it.

 One step at a time.

I don't know where to start. 

 I suppose that every day is an anniversary of something. It holds a memory, whether good or bad, of an event, or conversation, or even just an emotion that brought change.

 January 18th is an anniversary for me.

 Technically, it might be strange to declare it something to celebrate, but on the other side of that is mourning, and that is not accurate either.
 Even after 25 years, it is still changing me. Creating me. Defining me.
 But, in all honesty, I wouldn't change it. So what is left but to celebrate?

 I rejoice in my diabetes!


 Twenty-five years ago I was 12 years old. I had had strep throats a few weeks earlier and just couldn't seem to get well. I had lost weight, but my mom thought "must be puberty"... until I just stayed tired. So we were back at the doctor- And it only took one finger stick, one drop of blood, for the doctor to know.

 At 12, I knew absolutely nothing about diabetes. It was a foreign word that sounded just as scary as cancer or leprosy. So my first question was "Am I going to die?" (But very quickly behind that followed "Can I still have babies?" I knew my priorities even then.) 😊

 Then, almost immediately, diabetes became part of who I was. I have talked to people who hate that; Who fight against letting a disease "define" them. To me, making it part of my definition accepts it, rather than fights it... and let me tell you, fighting it will not change anything.

 So, I celebrate it!


 Things change, obviously.

 I grew up. Got married. Had those babies. 😊

 New medical problems were discovered, and treated, and became part of my definition.

 Twenty-five years later I am still learning.
 I am still growing.
 Some days I am, sad to admit, still fighting.

 But who I am, what defines me, is completely in the hands of God.

 How can I do anything except celebrate it!?

 Andy is currently attending the Captain's Career Course at Fort Leonard Wood. It is only a six month course, so settling in seems slightly pointless. We haven't hung any pictures and left half the books in boxes. We threw away the couch before we left Ft. Bragg, and have made do with bean bag chairs since we have been here. I don't even know where to look, in the stacks of storage, for Easter decorations.
 But still, when you live someplace, you can't help but settle in. I found a local market with fresh eggs and homemade jams. We joined a homeschool co-op, sharing classes like human anatomy and art. We even signed up for the Easter Play at the church we have been attending.
 I didn't plan on it, but I have settled.

 Yet, somehow, the military medical system has not joined me in that. In that area of my life I am not settled at all! It has taken over 2 months, 3 doctor appointments, and more phone calls to the front desk then I can even count - and I still don't have any of my diabetic supplies or seizure meds.

 I have met people here. Really nice people. However, I would not say I have made any friends. People I can talk to about homeschooling and military life - absolutely. Someone I can call and cry with - not so much. I can't say I have really tried, so I am not complaining - simply pointing it out.
 Last Thursday I was invited to a ladies Bible study. While chatting before hand I gave a quick summary of my complaints about medical help here, or the lack there-of. One of the ladies immediately pulled out her phone and texted a friend. That friend texted someone else, and I had new knowledge of who to talk to and what steps to take within minutes.
 This woman is not my friend. We barely know each other. But she took the time to make contact, find information, and pass it all along to me. She was the hands and feet of Christ in my life, right that moment, when I needed it. She was a friend.

 We talked about Psalm 2 that afternoon, and the verse that stood out to me was 2:12b. "Blessed are all who take refuge in Him."

 Refuge In: not refuge from. Refuge is not hiding. Protection does not mean unable to see, or be seen. I sometimes fool myself into thinking that when I find refuge it means I am not strong enough to shine His glory. That if I seek protection it means I am weak. But refuge IN Him does not mean refuge from everything else. I can have supernatural peace in the middle of extremely stressful moments and still be a shining light and a blooming flower.

 As the Message translation puts it, "if you make a run for God- you won't regret it."

 It has been over a week, again, and I still don't have the supplies I need. I talked to different people, made steps in the right direction, and still don't have the problem solved.

 Yesterday I was very VERY emotional about it. I cried on the phone with Liberty Medical, who actually mail me my supplies. I cried with Tricare, the insurance company. Then I called my mom and cried for her.
 What did crying accomplish? Nothing I guess... but I felt better getting it all out! And I was reminded, again, that I can take refuge IN my Savior, and still make noise and stand up for myself. Technically, I should be completely out of infusion sets. Should have been for days. And you cannot just walk into Walmart and buy them.
 But God works. I have gotten four days out of some, when usually I can only do three. I found two in a suitcase. Yesterday I remembered that I had one in the car (for emergencies!) They will not get here over the Easter holiday. But maybe early next week?

I take refuge in my God. I trust that He is involved, even when I cannot understand.

 I welcome your prayers. Yes, that this problem would be worked out. But even more so that I will remember to take refuge IN my God.

 Psalm 9:9+11 says "The Lord also will be a stronghold for the oppressed, A stronghold in times of trouble... Sing praises to the Lord, who dwells in Zion; Declare among the peoples His deeds." NASB

 So I sing His praises and declare His deeds. He is my stronghold. His part of the promise remains true. I will follow through with my part too. I will "Tell the world about His unforgettable deeds" NLT

 Thanks for listening!

I seem to spend a lot of time "up in the air". Not spacey, although my husband would probably say that is true also. No, I meant that my life itself spends lots of time in the realm of unknown. As in, "What comes next?"

 I checked into UNC Neurology dept. yesterday evening. Again.
 When I spent that week of Thanksgiving here they were able to pinpoint a little about my seizure location, but the desire to know more about where it is coming from, and the possibilities for treating it in the long run... well, we need more exact info.
 So here I am, hooked up to an insane amount of monitors, trying to have seizures. It seems wrong, after all these years of trying to get them to stop, to now be trying to have them.  But here I am.

 I was very afraid coming into this (again) because I didn't know what to ask.
 Of course, my Savior knew how to solve that.

 I was led to Ezekiel 37, and the story of the valley of the dry bones. God asks Ezekiel "How can these bones live?"
 How can dry bones have life in them again? The tendons are gone, the skin has dissolved, and the breath has been blown away.
 That is not a question we can answer.
 But Ezekiel knew how they could live.

"O Sovereign Lord, you alone know."

 He didn't pretend to know how to make it happen, or even how to ask for it.
 He simply stated the truth, "You alone know" and waited for instructions. 

 So here I am, praying with a definitive grip on the truth - My God knows.

 I don't know how to fix my head. I don't even know what to pray for. But My God Knows. 

 The best part of the story of the valley of the dry bones is at the end - The dry bones were put back together, given tendons and skin, and yet, they were still not alive. They needed breath.

 God declared, "I will put my Spirit in you and you will live."

 And that is the definition of life. My body can fall apart, and it will. Everyone's does. But as long as I have the Spirit living in me, giving me His breath, then I am alive.

 I would love to have prayers from you my friends. But I can't tell you what to ask for. Because I don't know. Only He does. So I guess guidance is the only thing I can ask!

There are a couple reasons I haven't written much late.
 First, I figured I would have plenty of time to write while I was in the hospital.
 Secondly, well, I didn't really want to talk about going to the hospital in the first place.

 It has been planned for over a month. It really isn't that traumatic. You see, these stupid little pauses my brain decides to take, (localized partial seizures) the doctors want to get an up close and personal look at them. So, 3-5 days in the hospital, EEG strapped to my head, on video at all times... mostly it is just invasive. The only part that is slightly traumatic is that they really need me to have as many seizures as possible.
 Right now I have them mostly under control. 2-3 a week. Very mild.
 They want full fledged, as many as possible.

 So that is what I have been stressing about. My medicine, which I have a love/hate relationship with, going away. The fear of a "real" seizure.

 I remember what it was like four years ago when they first started. I remember what it was like three years ago when I had the "grande mal". So fear, fear is what has kept me from writing. Because if I didn't write it down, then I didn't have to actually believe it was true.

 Last week, I actually listened to God.

 You know how sometimes He prompts you to do something, just something minor, and you simply put it off. "Seriously Lord? That isn't even my job!"

 But I listened.

 And I am so glad.

 You see, for some reason, somehow, UNC hadn't filled out the paperwork properly for Tri-care to approve my stay in the hospital. So when I called "just to check" on Monday, there was no record of it in their system.

 So all week this week has been "ring around the rosy" with doctors and insurance, and case managers, and back again. I am fairly confident I have talked to every department with-in Tricare...

 The final word was that it takes 3-5 days for the official decision to be made, and the proper paperwork was not finally turned in until Friday.

 So, I will not be checking into UNC on Monday.

 I could have just gone. And hoped that it was approved. But if they said no, I would be left with the bill myself. And as much as I want to be well, to be done with meds, I can't really afford to pay that myself.  So we will wait. After all that planning, with the grand-parents coming to take care of the boys and Andy getting time off. All that talking myself into it, and conquering my fear. Now, we wait again.

 Their next open appt. is the week of Thanksgiving. Sun-Thur actually. Anyone want to come spend the week of Thanksgiving watching my boys?

 For now, I have a few week of respite. And, now that I have posted it, it is real. So perhaps I can write again!

 Tomorrow is full of life. Worship with friends. The end of season celebration for soccer. Joy for the realization that I will be home later this week to see my children dress up in their funny costumes, and to answer the door and hand out rubber spiders and decorated pencils. Life is good. My family is amazing. My Savior is awe inspiring.

 Tonight I simply say Goodnight.

Today was a rough day.
Simple stupid little things, but they just kept coming.

 My basket full of supplies (junk) that I carry everywhere, "just in case" fell out of the truck and spilled everywhere. Things started rolling down the hill into the neighbors yard!

 But, it made me clean it out. I kept the sunscreen, even though summer is over, and the tylenol and chapstick. Emergency sewing kit, first aid kit, goldfish and granola bars. But the cloth napkins needed to be refreshed. Time for clean ones. Same with the emergency fork, knife and spoon. The juice box at the bottom was a flavor no one liked and the straw wrapper just needed to go in the trash. And seriously, I think 6 books are a few too many. Zion and I cut it down to three.
 So that annoyance was turned into something useful.

 We made it back inside after our busy morning away and realized that we had left the kitchen a disaster. As I carried a glass jar of bacon grease (from our authentic German potato salad) to the trash can - of course it slipped out of my hands and shattered all over the floor.

 Not just broken glass.

 Broken glass covered in bacon grease.

 And two seconds into cleaning the phone rings.

 The man Andy had arranged to come pick up some car parts was outside, calling to let me know he was here.

 Sigh.

 Glass all over the floor.

 Grease all over my hands.

 And car parts to load up.

 Thankfully, I had met the man and his wife before. I told them the situation and they were very willing to wait patiently while I cleaned up the mess. Their only grand-daughter is in college already, so I think they enjoy a few minutes with my boys once in awhile.

 But goodness how frustrating it was.

 However....

 It made me steam clean the floor. Not just talk about it.

 The soccer practice schedule had been changed, which made the regular "schedule" of supper complicated.

 Cleats decided to have an exceedingly difficult knot.

 My brand new infusion site decided to slip and HURT every time I moved while at soccer practice.

The rough day just kept staying rough.

 But the knot came undone. Supper was thrown together and even had enough leftover to feed Canaan again after practice. The infusions site was changed, again. A pain in the butt, literally, but it is working, which is what matters. And I was reminded that without it I would be dead. So even if it hurts every once in awhile, I really shouldn't complains!

 All this to leads to my quotes of the day;

 "We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be." C.S. Lewis

 Which is followed by;

 "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths." Proverbs 3:5-6

 Half way through the day I was actually asking God what I had done wrong to deserve all of this. And now I have to laugh. Because broken glass, tangled shoelaces and a pain in the butt diabetes... well, I really don't think those are worth worrying about!

 Besides... I had chocolate too. He had blessed me with the pre-planning to make brownies- available just when I needed them.

 God is good!

 It has become a theme now for me to repost this every year around my birthday. It was first written in 2009, which, although it was only 3 years ago, seems a lifetime ago. Andy was in Afghanistan. When he is gone, life is different. But...

 In all things, God remains good. The most recent verse I have had written on a note card next to my bed, always within easy sight, is Job 2:10b. "'What? Shall we receive good at the hand of God and shall we not receive evil?' In all this Job did not sin with his lips."

 That is my goal. That "His praise shall continually be in my mouth"(Ps 34:1) rather then sin with my lips.
 There are lots of things I can do with my mouth. I choose to use the time I have to automatically; Pray. Praise. Bless.

 Automatically.

 Just like in this story:




 I adore having sisters.
 Obviously, in three years things have changed. But our Savior stays in the center of our hurts, and our praises.