Babies, Brownies and Blessings

I fancy myself a purveyor of Godly insight at times (oh, how I pray for that very thing!) but often life-altering events are only understood in the After. I now realize my prior post When the Final Chapter is Named was an earthly representation of Teresa's journey. What felt like an entire life chapter was merely the Prologue to her real story: Glory and the Return of All Things Lost.  Because in Jesus, that is what "death" is. To die is gain, to live is Christ, are the words of Paul (Phil. 1:21).  Never have those words been so profound as in this moment, hours after Teresa took the hand of Jesus and has returned to her original unscarred Glory. The only way to live, to take the next aching breath, is in Christ...our Sustainer, our Joy, or Living Hope. Teresa loved me from the first time she met me. I'd love to say that made me unique, but, in fact, she loved everyone she met. What I DID uniquely receive from her was quick and full acceptance as her son's wife....

What do we know about the beginning of the end of one’s time on earth? Do we always recognize it? Is there a pattern it follows, a predictability? Maybe at the very end… but in the middle pages, the book holds a unique set of stories for those fighting for more time before meeting their Savior just yet. My mother in law Teresa’s recent chapters have certainly been full of twists and turns and winding roads. Most of which have led back to Mayo in the last 50 + months. What started as a bizarre and benign form of sinus tumors is ending in an all-out cancerous assault on her body. Four years of surgeries, intermittent scans, an abundance of uncomfortable procedures, and countless (and I mean COUNTLESS) nose/sinus rinses has yielded time, but not a cure.   Now the title of the final chapter has been named: Hospice. As a nurse, I LOVE hospice. As a daughter-in-law… the word provokes an ache… could we wait a decade or two?   The hope of eternity brings so m...

On my way home from work the other day on greasy roads with crammed lanes of weary commuters, I witnessed an interchange that left my heart and mind contemplating desolation. We were all crawling at speeds of 20 mph on the freeway when a red sports car to the right zipped into my lane and then back into the lane she came from. As she pulled back into her lane she rolled her window down to display one beautifully manicured finger. Just the one finger. As I looked around for an explanation I noticed the Prius driver to my right...the driver she must have been trying to get around. He looked confused. I was confused. I wondered what had happened, why she was angry, and kinda hoped she slipped off the road (how bad is that? I had to repent). Then I began thinking about all the hatred and confusion that one-fingered gesture left behind. Now I'm not sure if she had had a bad day, or if he had cut her off, or any other number of precipitating factors had occurred. I do know she was unhapp...

What would you say if I told you you changed my life? That the words spoken, gift given, correction offered, letter written shifted me from one track to another? Would you wonder why I never told you before now? Feel motivated to continue to walk in your glory with the affirmation of your gifting fresh in your mind, letter in hand? There are times we think to share appreciation with those who have made an impact: promotion, retirement, relocation, career change, but those opportunities are so few and far between. Some time ago I decided I wanted to send one letter a week to a person who impacted me: a note of gratitude with observable ways someone had affected or motivated me, or ways I have seen them make a difference. Here I sit, MONTHS later, still roosting on that idea, never yet hatching it. I know there are varying degrees of un-appreciation in every profession- but having only lived the occupation of nurse the last 18 years, I'm going to speak to that. Maybe it was night shi...

Those three little words drove me nuts when my kids were young. Mamas who had been through the insanity of multiple toddlers and were now in the teenage years would often look at me funny when I'd say something like "I bet it will be so much easier when they are older", or if I mentioned my longing for the day when they could at least wipe their own butts. The idea of having a minute that I didn't have to worry that one kid was harming the other, or ingesting toilet water, or emptying out a cereal box on the floor- all made me long for a time in the future. Some moms would smile and nod, commiserate that I was in the labor-intensive years, and don't worry, it'll get better. One day you'll go to the bathroom by yourself again (hopefully without having to worry about the tornado I'd discover due to my 1 minute absence with three creative toddlers running free around the house). They would see the tired eyes, the spit-up stains on my shirt, the le...

I sat down to write for what I knew was the first in a long time. As it turns out, it's been just over a year since I wrote a blog. The last one I wrote, I didn't publish..it was written the end of August 2018. Re-reading what I wrote a year ago stunned me and here's why: I was going to write basically the same thing today! Here I sit, reading the words of my heart from last year and they resonate strongly still...or is it again? I have noticed (through writing and having chats with my husband) that my emotional state seems to be "seasonal". For example, most years in February and March we talk about my man quitting his evening-shift job and getting a new one. In April we want to homeschool the kids so we don't have to deal with calls from the principal. In August it feels like we need parent-kid boot-camp to get everybody back on track...or just get them back in school? And coincidentally for the last 2 years I've felt a little melancholy around...

It was a summer without sports for the boys. Definitely not a popular decision given BigBoy happens to rock lacrosse these days. Being 5'10" and athletically inclined at 12 years old has it's perks. Wonder which side of the family that came from??? How does one come to and stick with the decision to keep a kiddo out of a sport they love and excel at? It's amazing how hard the decision is, even at these really young ages. Even when it's temporary. Here's the scene that launched the decision: Day 2 of an out-of-town-tournament to top off 3 months of running around 3-4 nights a week to get one or two kids to their sports. It's hot. Melting-the-spikes-on-their-cleats hot. You can see the heat wafting from the turf. The boys are playing hard and parents are getting unruly on the sidelines. Parents are yelling to their sons to "get" the kids on the other team. "Push him down, get ON him" Enter expletives. Sitting there, watc...