The Year Of The Highest Highs & Lowest Lows

 

The man I love was gravely ill and on a grueling dialysis treatment regimen.

A dear friend gave birth to her rainbow baby.

My husband got the kidney he needed to survive, from his sweet sister.

Selfless sacrifice.

Healing.

Elation.

Rejection.

Kidney rejection.

Stumbling.

A beautiful sister of a friend was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.  She still fights.

Otherworldly bravery.

Reunions.

One brother and sweet sister-in-law growing a baby.

Another brother and his girlfriend growing in their faith in some really difficult situations.

There were days that hopes were all but crushed.

Our son got sick and it was terrifying.  Doctors using the most sinister words…  Tests.  Surgery.  Biopsy.

Fear.

Utter helplessness.

Weeks later, our son was completely recovered and healthy, with no further need for surgery.

Sweet deliverance.

Celebrations.

Friends affected by addiction.

The most difficult stories to hear, let alone watching people you love endure them.

Listening.

Listening more.

Caring.

A lovely friend and young wife and mother left this life in a matter of hours.

Devastating loss.

She donated her organs to save the lives of at least four others.  Our loss, their gain.

Sorrowful admiration.

There were days I wondered if we were going to make it.

There were days I had to pinch myself for the happiness I felt.

Victories.

Defeats.

Friends separated and divorcing.  Children hurting.  Sad shock.

Quitting.

We started to live and plan again.

We started again.

And again.

Broken cars and broken plumbing.

People that show up.

Again and again.

Family.

Friends.

Supportive people.

Caring people.

Loving people.

Restoration.

Completion.

A young mama friend gets the lungs she needs to survive.

A first grandchild on the way for a sweet gal I used to work with.  A fatal fetal diagnosis.  Persevering parents.  A faithful family that said hello and goodbye to a sweet baby girl in two precious, heart-wrenching hours.

Exponential growth.

Pain.  Oh, the pain.

Peace.  Sweet peace.

Strife.

Sorrow.

Silence.

Singing.

Prayer, upon prayer, upon prayer.

Praying.

Abiding.

Trusting.

JOY!

The man I love is doing AMAZING and feeling better than he has in years.

Our kids are happy, healthy, fun and sweet.

We count our blessings!!!

Whether it happened to us or around us, 2015 was the year of highest highs and lowest lows that I have ever lived.  I do truly hope and pray that 2016 is much more steady and restful for all of us.

Nonetheless, I resolve to live 2016 the way I lived its predecessor:

In gratitude, being present, joyfully, as I spend myself loving others, abiding in the One who holds my peace.

After this year, I know there is no other way.

Happy New Year!

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Please enjoy this slideshow of a few of our 2015 memories.

 

 

 

Baby Savior

Sometimes, I wish my life was quieter…  That I had nothing going on and nothing to be terribly concerned about.  But when you love people, life gets full and messy.  And the more you love, the fuller and messier it gets, so there you have it.

The highs can be really high, the lows can be really low, and then, there’s the all of  the everything in between.  So much.

In the middle of all this, a tiny babe is born and lies in a manger.  Vulnerable.  Can’t help anyone, but oh, He will…

Will. He. Ever.

And that, dear ones, is the hope of Christmas.  Full and messy as this life is, God becomes human and gets right in there with us.  Vulnerable.  Weak.  Just like us.  The odds are stacked against Him and darkness thinks it has won, but Jesus overthrows and overcomes the darkness with His light.

Stop and marvel at that Baby Savior with me and feel real Peace.  Indeed, it is a merry Christmas.

Pre-Op

(Originally written March 4, 2015)

Thank God they are few, but there are times in my life when I feel like my chest is cut open, my rib cage is pulled back, and I walk around with my heart completely open and vulnerable. You know, everywhere I go. When I run into my neighbors out on the street, they are friendly and say hi and they tell me they are praying for my husband and my family. I appreciate this, but I can’t really talk because there is this matter of my exposed heart. It’s, like, delicate, man. I know you can see it, pumping and threatening to bleed everywhere. So, neighbor, I appreciate it that you keep things brief and I pray you’ll forgive me for not being particularly chatty, but I have to go somewhere and protect this mess.

For me, this is not just an emotional feeling… I physically feel this way because, emotionally, I feel this way.

I feel this way, right now.

My concerns, my stresses, and my fears all become so raw and real that I feel like they are pouring out of me. And my brain is fuzzy because I am in protect mode. And I’m not my normal self.

Except…

There are a handful of humans that will come to me, and sit with me, sort through the mess, and make me laugh. These saints, their presence is medicine, their words elixirs poured over my tired soul. Some of them live far away, but they pick up the phone and we are instantly together, stitching each other back up. And I am so thankful for them. They know who they are.

My husband goes under the knife to get a kidney in nine days. He is my best friend. He and I are the healers God has given to each other, every day, until we die. We are parents to these incredible little humans, too little to remember. THEY NEED more time with him. I WANT more time with him. Lots more time. But to get that time, he has to come close to death. And his sister has to do this very brave and selfless and scary thing, too.

It’s just SO MUCH, right now. There is so much at stake. But I am thankful for all God has given me, all He has given us. I am eternally grateful to Amy, for being willing to give a part of herself so that Chuck can live what we hope will be a long and healthy life. I am so glad that Chuck’s transplant team is so encouraging and optimistic. I am grateful for his skilled (and genuinely kind) surgeon. And I am thankful for the people God has placed in our lives who speak life and light into the dark and scary places. And I am thankful to be loved by a God that never leaves us nor forsakes us, no matter what.

And, I think, walking around in this vulnerable way is okay, for the time being.

5 Years Old

(originally written in early November, 2015)

On Facebook, a friend of mine just posted a bunch of Barbies and Barbie paraphernalia to give away to another little girl who would appreciate them.  Her only daughter is not yet a teenager, and my daughter is 5 years old and is LOVING her Barbies, right now.  I saw the picture of the pile of dolls and my heart sunk as I wondered, “How much time do I have?”

How long until my daughter is done with her dolls?  How much longer will I get to marvel at all the playing and imagining that she does?  I don’t even want to think about it.  It is extraordinary to watch her make up stories and songs with her dollies, to watch her dream out loud and see the sweetness of her heart, translated to the stage of her play table or the makeshift tree house she has made out of a stool and a few scarves.

Slow down, baby girl, and let mama drink you up.  I know, one day, you will make your dreams into reality and that will be a privilege to see, but I love you just as you are, right here and now, and I know I will miss these precious days.  Thank you for today, God.  Thank you for all You have given me.  I want to honor You to my children.