A Glint of Joy

The other day I saw a glint of joy.
I felt it for a moment,
Just a spark.
I followed it in my mind 
Until a lush valley of promise 
Opened up before me.
And I remembered how it was
And I hoped that it could be

Then my mind returned to present
Restrictions, darkness, pain
And I felt enveloped by it all
And I sat.

I sat.  

And sat.

And stayed so still.
Until darkness surrounded all
So I closed my eyes.



















As I sat, alone, eyes closed
I felt it again.  And heard.
                                             "Open your eyes.  Arise."
"No.  I will not.  I cannot."
                                             "Open your eyes.  Arise."
"I don't have the strength."
                                             "You're not alone."


A pause.  A breath.  Resignation.
It's easier to stay
And my eyes opened
To darkness still.
I stood up
Took a step
And I tripped and fell and bled and cried.
                                                 
                                              "Arise."
"THIS IS TOO HARD!"
                                              "You're not alone."

Another breath.
I pushed myself up again 
using the stone that had tripped me.
A tentative sweep of the foot 
More stones surrounded me in the darkness.
I explored with my hands
Smooth, jagged, sandy
Pebbles, rocks, boulders
Strewn everywhere in the pitch blackness
Probably for miles ahead
A lifetime's journey.

"Impossible," I muttered under my breath

                                               "You're not alone."

"I can't see You.
I can't move.
I'm going to fall again.
It hurts.
And I'm still bleeding."

I sat on the tripping stone.
Head bowed.
Eyes closed.

                                                                              "Open your eyes.  Arise.
                                                                   I am with you."

Echoing words.
Echoing.
Echoing.


Could it be?
I heard them.
I felt them.
Felt again.
What is this?
I'd forgotten.

I opened my eyes.
Looked up.
Barely perceiving
Through the distant murkiness
A glint
A glint of joy
Just a spark.



I arose.



















                                       

Should...

I should be in bed.  
That's a truth.  
But what else?

I should be a better mom.
I should be a better house keeper.
I should know the right answers.
I should not get angry at my kids.
I should be more organized.
I should hold it together all the time.
I should go to all those play dates.
I should not home school anymore.
Or maybe I should get better at it.
I should look nicer.
I should not get stains on all my clothes.
I should be a better wife.
I should have everything perfect when my husband gets home.
I should keep my car clean.
I should discipline better.
I should be more disciplined myself.
I should not be late.
I should spend more time reading and writing.
I should throw better parties.
I should not eat those cookies.
I should.
I should!
I should???


And who told me that I should?
I'm tired of this voice!
And how can I do it all?

Quiet, you!!

I should not listen to all these lies anymore!  Outta here, Should!  Can, Will, Must and Want To can stay, but no more Should!

Nope!

Except for I should be in bed.

The Choice

The day didn't start well.  Actually, it sort of started yesterday, or maybe the day before, or even yesterday's yesterday (as my kids would say).  At any rate, I woke up today and continued the bad yesterday.  I don't know if I can explain it very well, except the feeling of numbness.  I'm not sure of its exact route, but it starts somewhere deep and reaches its cold, stabbing tentacles around until my spirit feels little and my heart feels less.  From the outside, I end up a sort of walking zombie going through the motions.  But eventually, even the motions slow and I lose my patience and really am not good for much.  That was last night.  James keenly recognized my symptoms (since he put everyone to bed on his own while I snarlingly zombied around) and gifted me a quiet afternoon to myself today.  A loving, kind and wise husband if I don't say so myself.

Before the afternoon hit, however, we went to church.  I actually did manage to get all the kids ready, mostly on my own, while James worked out last minute details for his talk today at Sunday School.  So we get there bright and early, James distributes the kids around the church campus (seriously, I think when I get this way he gets a little scared of me and sends me away, although, I also know he wants to encourage me) and I cozy off by myself anonymously into my seat (you can do that in a megachurch).  We had a guest speaker today.  A phenomenal speaker.  The text was announced, Isaiah 6:1-8, and I knew that this sermon was meant to be heard by me.  Isaiah's call and commission is one of my very favorite parts of the Bible-but my own passion has admittedly lessened and been partially replaced with what-ifs and fears as we've faced hardship after hardship.  (Click here if you want to read from Isaiah)  As the pastor began speaking I sat with holy fear and anticipation.  Why today?  Of course today.

I'm not going to re-preach a wonderful, engaging, funny sermon.  I couldn't do it half the justice it deserves.  But here it is for your own delight.  What I am going to say is that, in the end, I wrote down in capital letters: "IT'S NOT GOING TO GET EASIER.  How to keep going?"  Because, really, what if life doesn't get easier?  What if it gets harder?  What if I keep waiting for a good change, only to be disappointed?  Am I going to continue allowing my soul and mind and heart to numb against the pain, or will I push into it and embrace it?

I have the choice.  I can escape.  I can eat a lot of chocolate chip cookies and drink my favorite tea.  I can run so fast that I feel it's behind me.  I can space out on facebook all the time.  I can watch "Lost" for 8 nights straight.  I can avoid the thought of it and pretend to myself that it's not there.  But, no matter what I do, it is there.  I'm living a lie.  And then I grow numb with the thought of it when I'm too weary to push it aside.

I think I really did naively expect life to be a bowl of bon-bons and sugar-coated candy in my younger days.  I mean, I married the man of my dreams, I ended up with the 4 most beautiful children in the world and I live in a privileged, prosperous country.  However, I didn't count on having a husband with chronic pain, a baby with a heart condition, and on facing the inescapable darkness of my own heart.  I tell you, it's not been easy.  When God asks "Whom shall I send," how do I exuberantly cry out "Here am I. Send me!" into a future that looks painful and bleak and when I have so many questions and it's already too hard right now?  But what is the exchange?  If I don't go, if I don't answer His call, if I merely sit and watch and wait....it's not going to get better.  In fact, my own fearful disobedience will make it worse.

I have a choice.  Life is not all que sera sera.  It's true I don't know what is coming, but I do know the One who does and Who is walking by my side holding my hand.  I know I have a book chock-full of His words and wisdom and comfort.  Do I allow whatever will be, to be?  Or do I take the scary walk of faith forward with Him?

Tube Be Gone aka "Tubie Gone"

On January 21st, we were all but certain that Annika's feeding tube would be removed, so we declared it Tube Day.  Our basis for this was in the Dr.'s words from the previous visit, "If she continues to do this well, we'll take the tube out next time!"  And she was doing more than well.  James took the day off, I gave the kids the day off from school, and we happily picked up our house together so we would have a nice place to celebrate Tube Day when we got home.  "Spirits were high" is an understatement.  This day marked a major milestone in the life of our family.  Although Annika had not been using her feeding tube for a few months, actually removing the tube from her stomach felt like the exclamation point at the end of this chapter in our days.

Skip ahead to the Dr. visit.  Annika IS doing well, and it IS time.......just the Dr. feels a little uncomfortable removing the tube today.  She just had another little girl have a tube removed and the hole in her stomach leaked and leaked and never healed, after having the tube for only 4 months.  Annika had hers for nearly two years, so...what are the chances of a natural closure?  Why not skip all the headaches of leaking and just go straight to surgery where the results are certain?  When our Dr. saw how sad we were, she gave us the option to remove it that day...but it was against her advice.  So we didn't.

I don't think I've ever heard my family sit so quietly as they sat that day on the drive home.  Only sad exclamations pushed the silence aside on occasion, "So it isn't really Tube Day!"  "We did all that cleaning for NOTHING!"  "We probably have to do school now!"  "I'M HUNGRY!"  James and I barely spoke.

No, I didn't make them do school, but nothing could replace the joy that was lost.  We were ready to celebrate with games and laughter and decorations and food!!!  And the celebration had been postponed.  So what to do today?  Nothing much.  We played mariokart and bought a dozen donuts to drown out our sorrows.  Unhealthy coping mechanisms-I know.  E-mail me about it.

The big question became, "When is Tube Day??"  I couldn't answer.  I was told to wait to hear from the surgeon.  The surgery department finally called, SIX days later, to say that they could schedule Annika's consultation with the Dr. for the end of February and the tube would be removed who-knows-when later.  Oh, but wait!  Our Dr. had mistakenly referred her to the wrong region. 
"Great!" I thought, "Maybe the right region will get her in sooner."  I sent a text off to our Dr., but heard nothing back.

The next day, the appointment center called, "I'm sorry to say, your Dr. had a family emergency and will return to the office the end of March.  But you still need a referral in order to have her seen in Orange County."
"Ok, great.  Should I call her primary care physician?  Can he refer her?"
"That might work.  I don't know.  I'll send a message to another GI doctor and see if he'll do it."
"Ok, what about the surgeon that placed the tube.  I have his number.  Is it appropriate for me to text him about this?"
"Yes.  Do that."

Ok, so I did and he texted me back right away, "I'll have my nurse call you."

Fabulous!   We're getting somewhere!

The phone rings and I jump up hoping to hear from our surgeons nurse, only to have the lady from the appointment desk explain to me that things really aren't looking good in getting Annika referred to Orange County.  What?  This is really a hard thing!

So, the nurse calls an hour or so later.
"When would you like to schedule this appointment?"
"Anytime!"
"Ok, how about tomorrow?"
"Sounds great!"
"But we still need that referral.  I can't schedule it without a referral."
"You heard me say that her Dr. is gone through the end of March?  Out of the country?"
"Yes, well.  We need it."
".............................................how do you suggest we get it?"
silence
And then.
"She was seen by this doctor for the g-tube placement?"
"Yes."
"How about we don't call this a consultation appointment but a follow-up from the last one and we skip the referral altogether?"
"Yes!  That is exactly what should happen!  Let's do it!"

And so, the next day, Annika woke up with a fever of 101, but there was no way I could cancel that hard fought for appointment.  Late in the afternoon, Annika and I trekked alone to see Dr. Lau.  She was ready to show "Doctoh Yow" her tubie and to do what he asked (and her fever had gone down).  Dr. Lau entered the room saying that 60% of removed tubes heal on their own.  He was willing to schedule her for surgery, but in his opinion, it was better to try a natural healing first.  I 100% agreed.  I've already seen the fear in this little one waking up from general anesthetic three times and she is one miserable cookie.  Enough trauma for my baby!

And then it happened.  I lay Annika on the bed in the room, turned around to grab her pacifier, and by the time I gave it to her, her tube had been removed.  I didn't take any pictures and I was the only one there to give a small cheer.  The doctor taped some gauze over the hole in her stomach and that was that.  I snatched her up as she cried in fear.  She really didn't understand why tubie had to go.

In an attempt to both distract and celebrate, I walked her down to the cafeteria and bought us a shared cup of strawberry and vanilla frozen yogurt.  We sat down to eat it just outside the cafeteria doors near some plants.  This little one, who wouldn't open her mouth to drink even a drop of liquid a year and a half ago, stood by my side on the cement and licked the yogurt off her spoon.  It was a quiet time.  We took pictures.  We laughed.  We shared bites.                     Just her and I.  

I looked up at the building towering above us and could pinpoint the exact rooms where, almost two years earlier, she was a tiny little one with so many newly discovered problems.  Here I had learned about my baby's heart failure.  I had waited tearfully for genetic testing to return which would tell me if she had a genetic disorder.  I had had an endless bombardment of conversations with so many different doctors and specialists.  I had learned how to use and care for an NG tube and then a gtube.  I had feared for my baby's life on the day the doctor panicked over her test results.  I had seen her bloated and struggling for breath after being IV'd too many fluids.  I had held her down for nearly 4 hours as nurses struggled to find a vein for an IV.  I was told, on my birthday, to never even think I would nurse my baby again.  I had walked every floor and knew every color scheme.  I had wandered every path around that hospital.  I knew the name of the guy who took my meal orders and had ordered every item on the menu.  I had set off the alarm and shut down the hospital three or four times after the nurse failed to disarm Annika's lo-jack before our daily walk. So many decisions, questions, fearful moments, tears and prayers happened right above where we sat and, although James and I walked this road together, for the most part, the time in the hospital was just her and I.

And so, somehow, although Tube Day dawned on January 29th and we didn't know it, although the whole gang missed out on the celebration at the removal and there was not a bit of a party that day, somehow....somehow....it seemed perfect.

After we finished our frozen yogurt, all Annika wanted to do was run to each rock and stand on it, "Yook, Mama!"  And at each fountain, as she touched her hand to the water she would twist back to make sure I was following.  And at each bench we encountered she would pat a spot for me to sit and ask me to help her up beside me.  And we sat for about ten seconds and kept going because there was so much to explore and she was so free and full of vibrant life!  Life!  This precious gift.  I laughed every time she screamed and squirmed to be released from my joyful hugs.  "Scream away, you little life!"  And that day, too, was a precious gift to me.  A perfect brushstroke in the huge painting that is God's big plan.  Although I don't understand all the "why's" to the place and the path that He has brought our family on, I can genuinely praise Him with all my heart because I feel and appreciate the blessings more than ever before.


Ecclesiastes 3:1-11

"There is a time for everything,
    and a season for every activity under the heavens:

2     a time to be born and a time to die,
    a time to plant and a time to uproot,3     a time to kill and a time to heal,
    a time to tear down and a time to build,4     a time to weep and a time to laugh,
    a time to mourn and a time to dance,5     a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
    a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,6     a time to search and a time to give up,
    a time to keep and a time to throw away,7     a time to tear and a time to mend,
    a time to be silent and a time to speak,8     a time to love and a time to hate,
    a time for war and a time for peace.

9 What do workers gain from their toil? 10 I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. 11 He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end."

AMEN!

Two Months Later

Yes!  It's been over two months since my last post and such a whirlwind of events that I've not had the time to write.  Actually, I probably could have squeezed something in sometime, but everything was sad. :-(  I'm finally feeling a bit of a cloudbreak.  Hopefully those clouds will just blow away!  So, because I feel like we've been barraged enough to be at least a little interesting, here's what kept me away........

On November 9th, I last posted about Annika's freedom from the feeding tube.  It had been over a week since her last feed, and now it's been over 2 1/2 months since her last hook up to the tube.  Yippee!!!

On November 11th, Annika's leg was broken.  It was such a sadness to see this little girl who's been through so much have to face yet another ordeal.  All my newfound time (from not dealing with a feeding tube) was taken (and more!) because of the broken leg.  The first week was very painful for her and I spent a lot of time comforting, medicating, and distracting.  The next couple weeks I carried her around everywhere.  That took care of November.

On December 4th, my husband received an injection in his spine in an attempt to help relieve some chronic pain.  I don't know how much I've mentioned this issue, but not a moment or day goes by when James is not in pain.  We were hopeful for some reprieve.  It didn't work.

On December 10th, James and I left for a trip to Florida-a conference, not a vacation.  The whole week leading up to it was insane with all the preparations needed to leave the kids behind, on top of the fact that James was sore and in more pain (oh ironies) from his injection.  That trip brought us emotionally low and than high.  It was not an easy trip, but definitely a positive one.  We returned home on the 15th.

On December 17th, James started having some stomach pain.
On December 18th, he came home early from work and noted that the pain seemed to be mostly focused on the right side of his abdomen.  He could not sleep or find any way to relieve the pain.  His kind father came over in the middle of the night to sit with the kids and we were off to the ER.  We arrived at 1:15 in the morning...
On December 19th by 6:25 in the morning, James was on the operating table having his appendix removed.  Fortunately, the procedure was laparoscopic, so the recovery window was 2 weeks rather than 6.  He came home from the hospital that day.  Our poor kids, had to spend a bit more time away from Mommy and Daddy.

On December 22nd Annika got her cast off of her leg.  She couldn't walk well so I had to be nurse to both her and James.

On December 25th.  Christmas, of course!  :-)  It was a wonderful day celebrating the birth of Jesus.

On December 26th Annika turned 2.  I praise Jesus for the gift of this little one.

 Sometime in the beginning of January, we discovered that Isaac had a broken toe.  It had happened around the 17th of December, but was overshadowed by James' emergency appendectomy.  Poor Isaac.  :-(  This news was the cherry on top of the bittersweet cupcake of our year.

AND THUS ENDED 2014!!!!!!!!!!

On January 5th James went back to work, but was still in too much pain to make it the whole day.

On January 11th, we had a birthday party for Adela.  A Wedding Party....ha ha!  (As a side note, birthday parties are not my first love.  Nor my family's.  I am an unpleasant person for days before I have to run a birthday party.....)

On January 13th Adela turned 6.  What a beautiful little encouraging heart she is starting to show!

On January 17th I sat down to write this blog while James died in Mariokart, over and over again.  Rainbow road.....

On January 21st we look forward to Annika getting her tube out!!!!  There's going to be a celebration at our house on Wednesday if it happens!

That's it.  And here I sit in this chair. A whirlwind of life has happened in just two short months.  It's almost ridiculous.  I just sit here, and it doesn't all seem real.  I'm feeling a little detached.  When a week of peace passes by, I feel like it's been peaceful forever around here.  "How are you?" you ask.  "GREAT!" I say!  Really, I feel we are doing fine.  I don't know if I'm experiencing some sort of disorder OR is this the peace that passes all understanding that I've wondered about?

But people have loved on us with meals and prayers and words of encouragement.  I didn't cook dinner for the entire two weeks of James' recovery.  God's love shining through His people enabled me to focus on my family through yet another trial.  People have so faithfully supported us these past two years.  It's been a witness and a testimony to me.

Thanks, guys.  You know who you are.

Letting Go

Today is the 10th day that Annika is without any g-tube feedings.  Ten days!  No more carrying Stripey, her little freezer bag, everywhere.  No more machine beeping in the middle of the night.  No more taping and hooking and setting up each night.  No more tube being pulled out of her stomach.  No more thoughts about it - every day, all day!

It's pretty crazy though.  I can place myself back in the hospital room the day of her surgery in May last year.  I so clearly remember the first instructions from the nurse, where I was standing in the room, the smells of the place and not knowing how to touch that little tube now attached to my 5 month old's stomach.  I can see my tiny one lying on her back with the white bars around her as the nurse demonstrated how to clean the tube, change the gauze, and how to twist the tube daily.  I see clearly the little table at the end of her crib, scattered with foreign medical paraphernalia that would soon become so familiar.  I feel myself walking by his side and hear the doctor's voice echoing in my mind, "We don't know how long...no, there's no way to know.  And when she does start eating on her own, she'll probably have the tube in for at least 6 months.  That's how it is with heart babies (heart babies) (heart babies)."  

When they sent us home, it was a strange thing to realize that home wasn't quite home anymore but an extension of the hospital.  Annika had her own IV pole, and the weird hospital noises sounded normal the next time we visited because we lived with those beepings every day now.  And there's so much more.

But here we are now.  November, 2014.  Annika's last g-tube feeding (hopefully ever!) happened on October 30th.  The week before, her hero GI doctor proclaimed out loud that "this child doesn't need me anymore!  I mean, look at her!  I want all her doctors to see how amazing she looks.  Can this be the same, failing little thing I first met in the hospital?" and she gave us one more week to taper her off of her g-tube feedings.  I exuberantly cancelled school for the rest of the day, drove to James' work to kiss him, decorated the house with the kids and served a celebratory meal.  James added to the joy by buying me a beautiful bouquet of flowers (and he scored 50,000 points).

That pole and the pump and the formula and the syringes and the medical tape have been my constant companions now for 17 months.  It felt weird, in those last seven nights of working with them, to think that I would put them away and possibly never use them again.  I actually found myself feeling sad.  What?!  Am I such a person of habit I could grieve the loss of these things I never asked for or wanted?  Can I be sad about something I've been anticipating ending since day one?  I admit, I was happy to have a week to wean myself off of Annika's medical supplies and my routine.

The day came, though, and I gladly packed everything into a box and slid it under the crib.  I folded the IV pole up and pushed it next to her supplies.  But as I worked, I remembered how casually and quickly the nurses in the hospital disposed of these plastic supplies-new ones every day.  Would they laugh at me, holding onto garbage?

The whole thing made me a little introspective.  What else am I holding onto?  There's so much that happens in life that we never expect, and yet, each little thing-as it touches us-leaves a little mark, a little habit, a little change.  Sometimes it's subtle, sometimes not.  Sometimes it's physical, sometimes not.  Sometimes it's good, sometimes not.  But every time, our selves, our spiritual selves react to that thing as we run to God, or push Him away.  And every once in a while, if we stop and look, we find that we love that thing we thought we never could and we wonder how it ever happened.  How did this become a part of me?  

And it's hard to let go.

To Do

• Grocery shop
• Clean 
• bathrooms
• kitchen
• + wipe cupboards and walls
• + mop
• living room
• bedrooms
• Dress the baby
• Feeding therapy with the baby
• Dispense medications
• Mix formula
• Clean up time with the kids
• Clean up kids spills and messes (5-10X daily)
• Read with each kid for at least 10 minutes each day
• Listen to my kids
• Make Breakfast
• Clean up Breakfast
• Make Lunch
• Clean up Lunch
• Make Dinner
• Clean up Dinner
• Make snacks 
• Clean up Snacks
• Comfort crying kids
• Supervise the baby outside
• Change diapers
• Wash laundry
• Fold laundry
• Guard laundry from jumping kids and swinging objects
• Put away laundry
• Bathe kids
• Take kids to the park
• Mediate kids' arguments
• Discipline
• Discipline again (and again and again and again)
• Make Doctor's appointments
• Go to Doctor's appointments
• Order medical supplies
• Go the the Library
• Drop and pick-up kid from co-op
• Home school my kids
• Make sure I'm teaching the right curriculum
• Follow the proper method when I teach
• Document what I teach
• Document how in depth each kid knows what I've taught
• Document each state standard they have met
• E-mail people
• Other communication with people
• Pay bills
• Wash the van
• Call the phone company
• Paint that bare spot on the wall
• Fix the shower
• Fix the bathroom drawer
• Fix the shelf
• Exercise
• Eat healthy
• Shower
• Brush my hair
• Look at my husband
• Talk to my husband
• Beat my husband in rummicub
• Play the piano
• Play the guitar
• Sing
• Spend quiet time in prayer
• Read my Bible

*******************************************************************************************************

When I quit my job after the 3rd baby came, someone asked me what I was planning on DOING all day at home!?  I guess, before I quit, I managed to fit all these things in, somehow, while also working outside of the home (and so many people I know and love follow the working road still-I commend them for their hard, hard work and perseverance!).  At any rate, this is where I'm at today and this is my current list of this year, this stage.  I am not sitting around bored.  I never wonder what to do.  In fact, as you might have noticed, I feel a bit crazy most of the time.

This list is my list.  You have your own etchings that make the busyness of your life - different from mine.  The point is-we've all got lists of demands.  My list is not in any particular order and it's not comprehensive, but I got too bored writing it to add anymore to it.  Really, the most important part of my list are the very last two listed.  And-ironically-spiritual battlishly-sadly-or somethingly-those tend to be the most difficult two to fit in.

Just over a year ago, when I was in the dredges of sick baby and I couldn't often go to church and I was running all the time to keep everyone alive at home and I was drop dead tired, I had to find another way spend time with God.  What I had known as worship, up until then, was to spend time reading my Bible each day and to meet together on Sundays with other Christians.  Also, I had experienced a few camps and retreats which bolstered my faith.   But I couldn't do any of that anymore.  I was so supported by people around me, but at the same time, so alone in the task given me.  I prayed to find a way to integrate worship into my everyday life, into that list, as I cooked and diaper-changed and disciplined and figured out feeding tube stuff.

God really met me in a special way as I prayed for ideas (these were really fast, desperate, on-the-run prayers).  In my tiny claustrophobic condo, I needed to be reminded of God more.  So I, firstly, put up signs with verses.  These visually remind me of where my thoughts ought to be and of God's amazing plan. One of my very favorites says simply, "Abide in Him."  Abide in Him.  I remember a specific moment when I was particularly flustered in my motherhood journey and had just lost my temper with my kids.  I walked the 5 steps from their bedroom and around the corner to the living room, leaned my head against the wall, looked up.......Abide in Him.  It's like a teal whispering every time I look that direction.  Abide in Him.

A second way God led me to integrate worship was to put my hymnal on a stand right next to the kitchen sink.  I specifically chose that location.  For some reason, washing dishes was where my mind would start to wander in judgement, criticism and self-pity.  I hated washing dishes, and maybe this was why.  It was my angry spot.  But now, if I'm not singing a song and my mind starts to wander in the wrong direction, I intentionally avert my eyes and mind to the words in the book- "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God Almighty-early in the morning my song will rise to thee."  Not only have I become less resentful and angry, but I've grown closer to God in singing these old words and my kids occasionally burst out in something amazing ("This is my STO------RY, this is my song!).  My angry spot is now my worship spot.  That's the kind of thing God does, the great heart-changer.

Lastly, because I felt so completely desperate and helpless, my prayer life increased ahundredfold.  I wasn't on my knees for hours on end-no-not a chance.  I didn't have that time.  But I was folding laundry (prayer), sweeping the floor (prayer), talking to Doctors (prayer), hearing my baby gag (prayer).

The list.  I write it out to remind myself that, yes, it is a lot-but it could be more.  Yes, the load feels heavy at times.  But also, yes, God is with me right in the middle of it all.  And, to remind myself to continue in the lessons He's so firmly taught me - to Abide in Him, to worship in the tasks He has given me, and to pray continually.  To know that the last two listed - spending quiet time in prayer and reading my Bible - are worth fighting and sacrificing for.

So, now that things are back to "normal,"  we're not missing church anymore.  Corporate worship is so much sweeter now that I know Jesus a little better.  I remember trying to live, walk, breathe worship before, but until the rug was yanked from beneath my feet, I didn't really get it.  Not that I do it all the time now.  Nope.  It's still a struggle and a battle.  But now I get it.  I've lived it.  I know it. 
And that's the gift of these last 18 months.