2 years later.




a re-posting from what I wrote a year ago. 
 Great is His faithfulness, still.

--

"Great is Thy faithfulness,” O God my Father,
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not
As Thou hast been Thou forever wilt be.
--
{one year ago, yesterday}.
 
The machine moved out.
i slowly sat up, orientating myself.
i blinked at the white walls around me.
the technician came in.
so, tell me about your symptoms.
i cocked my head. my brow furrowed.  
{the technician doesn't usually ask these things, does she?}
she sensed my confusion.
i just want to make sure the radiologist has the full picture.
oh.
i listed of the symptoms.
tingling, extreme weakness, burning.
she scribbled on her clipboard.
i walked out.
that technician's questions?
my first inkling that this was not a rule-everything-out MRI,
but a we-found-something MRI.
---
{one year ago today}.
 i stood in the shower.
my husband got ready at the sink.
the rosemary mint shampoo lathered.
i was thinking, why don't you go with me to the appointment today?
just in case?

sure,
he replied,
shaving the foam off.
the suds went down the drain.  
i stood there,
with the briefest feeling that the MRI follow up 
would be so much more than a follow up.
--
   we walked in the house after the appointment.
my father in law was chasing the kids around,
quite literally.
i hugged them.
we ate supper.
my father in law sensed the appointment was not as expected.
i went through the motions of chewing my food.
it seemed the world went on around me,
while i sat and watched through a window.
shock. i think it's called shock.
  
at the end of the dinner,
the kids went off playing.
matt began the explanation.
we were a bit surprised by the MRI report.
we discussed.
we stared.
we sat in unbelief.
i sat at the table while my father in law did dishes.
i was beyond functioning.
i remember thanking him,
and thinking i should get up and help, but unable to.
he told me he loved me. and to stay seated.

i sat at the kitchen table all evening.
the MRI report laid next to me on our red floral tablecloth.
the words stared back me.
multiple sclerosis cannot be excluded.
             ---
{one year ago, tomorrow}.
  we met my father in law for lunch at Chikfila.
we were on our way to the neurologist's office.
the kids played. the salad i ordered sat staring at me.
my father in law asked if i just wasn't hungry?
i shook my head. 
i just can't eat.  
the first time in my life,
i was so nervous i was going to throw up.
running to the bathroom in that fast food place,
i prayed.
we need answers, Lord.
help the neurologist.
we need answers, Lord.
we need you, Lord, oh how we need you.
---
{today}.
my left hand fingers tingle slightly as i hit these keys.
my toes are numb today, 
 a reminder of how real this was one year ago.
but i run around with grace abigail on safari expeditions.
we tumble on the couch together.
when our 6-year-old gets home from school,
i will be eager to hear the words "tag, you're it" from his mouth.
and as we pause so he can take his socks off to be faster on our hardwood floor,
deep inside my heart,
i will be oh so thankful 
that one year later,
i am playing tag.
chasing zebras.
 ballerina dancing.
with no limping. no cane. no walker.
{one year later}.
my heart sings His faithfulness.
though i may be glad the initial shock and awe of a MS diagnosis is over,
my new found depth of understanding of who God is?
i wouldn't change that for anything.
one year later.
Great is Thy faithfulness!
great is thy faithfulness!

  Morning by morning new mercies I see;
one year later.

All I have needed Thy hand hath provided—
one year later.

    Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Christmas.





the days spin into more days and spin into more days.
each one bringing its own set of challenges that never seem to stop.
one thing. then another. then another.

my heart whispers,
Lord, when I said I'd love to be home for Christmas, this is not what I had in mind.



--

in the wee morning hours I hear a small voice cry out.

mom.
come.
i get up from my bed and go to her room.
wrapping my arms around her small frame,
i feel it.
the unmistakable warmth from a fever.
i dose medicine and calm her back to sleep.
48 hours of fever and sickness are upon us.
i'm up around the clock, caring for a sick sick child.

in one of those early morning hours,
i return to bed to find a sick, sick spouse.

more medicine dosed.

a few days later,
upon a return from a quick grocery trip to restock gatorade and children's ibuprofen,
the sound of running water greets me.

a toilet is overflowing.
which leads to a basement flooding.
which leads to a hot water heater being broken.

{Lord, this is not what I had in mind}.

----

then again,  i don't think Christmas lived upped to Mary's expectations, either.


sent out of her hometown, 
forced to take a long, long journey with her round, round belly,
her pregnant hips and back aching and feeling every rough, painfully slow step the donkey took on the road to Bethlehem.

and then, just when she felt a twinge of relief that they had made it to their destination,
another let down.

no place to stay.

weary and worn, i can imagine Mary curling up on hay,
too tired to care that animals were near.

and then the pains of childbirth began.

in the most unexpected way the man-God entered this world,
ready to save.


-----



so, this Christmas,
I replace my expectations for Him.

I forgo Christmas cookie platters for Him.
the hustle and bustle of shopping for Him.
french toast casseroles and prime rib dinners for Him.


 I let go of traditions to spend a night in the emergency room with a seriously ill spouse.
i wipe my daughter's hot forehead, nestling her in with her favorite, well-loved bear.
i bring gatorade and fresh cough drops and medicine and try to throw in some hugs and cuddles,
for even the Son of man came not to be served,
but to serve.


my heart whispers
patience and kindness and strength, Lord, please. patience and kindness and strength, 


the whirlwind of Christmas goes on with out our household in tow.
but as i let go of so much of the Holiday as we know it, i pray that
even with my stocking-less mantle and ornament-less tree,

{we may be celebrating the actual reason for Christmas more than we ever have}.


For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, 
 but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.
Mark 10:45 


our sweet grace, christmas last year, when our household was slightly-more-Christmas ready.


Meet Miles.




4 years ago, 
something began stirring deep inside my heart.
a stirring so strong, so real,
it would eventually lead us around the globe.





--

our journey to have kids has not been what we planned.
then again, is our life ever what *we* plan?

4 years after we decided to have children,
after a couple of heart-wrenching losses and hearing words like
{probably never have children}

our beautiful, oh-so-miracle baby boy entered our lives.

and then, after a pregnancy loss felt so personally, so deeply,
that my faith was rocked to my core,
our baby girl came.
grace abigail.
a picture of God's amazing grace in our lives
 as He sustained and authored her life, 
{even in the womb}.





why would we ever think that our third child would come easier?

--

his deep chocolate eyes looked into my own and pierced my heart,
and I loved him like only a mother can 
well before a judge would declare him ours.
we pleaded and prayed for almost a year and a half before we thought it was over.
our fight for the fatherless had ended.

and then, 
almost 2 years from the time I held him,
i felt the familiar stirring in my heart.

write again,
i felt.
try again.

and this time?
it worked. 
God moved mountains.

--

after an almost three-year journey,
we are deeply humbled,
and so very excited to announce what the Lord has done in our lives.

on the other side of the globe,
He is officially ours.

meet Miles Joseph Walker.
he loves swimming, playing with matchbox cars,
granola bars, and Coke.







Miles J. Walker.
{orphan no more}




4 small words




The ringing phone awakened me.
Anticipating this phone call,
i napped with my iphone beside me.


four words.
four
 small-but-oh-so-big-words 
were what I awaited, 
hoping, praying, pleading to hear.


Hello? I answered.

It was the call for which I had been awaiting. 


----

My footsteps pounded the pavement this morning. 



I ran faster in my head than my GPS said, but that's okay. 
on this beautiful Midwestern touch-of-fall morning, my soul felt alive.

And on my running playlist came the song that was on {repeat} about a year and a half ago. 
Over and over I listened to it, praying it with all my heart. 
It expressed what my filled-to-the-limit-heart could not.


-----


The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning
it's time to sing Your song again.
whatever may pass,
and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes.


 -----



That was the prayer I pleaded:
May my faith be steadfast enough, courageous enough, strong enough,
that no matter what came during the day - 
no matter what result the seemingly endless round of medical tests would hold,
that my heart would still be singing His praise when the evening came.
a year and a half later,
multiple sclerosis is just a small blip.
a shot daily, some extra supplements...
and i,
very thankfully,
live my very normal life.



------

but then the yearly MRI rolls around,
which will tell me that which my body may not,
and i am a little-too-reminded of the fact that I live with a progressive neurological disease.
and, MRI's always take me back to that initial diagnosis
and those life-changing words
multiple sclerosis cannot be excluded.
  
obviously,
my emotions run a bit deep.



-----------------

I pounded the pavement this morning,
listening to those lyrics,
reminded of a deeply personal, deeply sensitive time in my life,
and became deeply thankful for the phone call I received last week.

4 small words.
4 oh-so-huge words.

but,
our God is always, always, always good.
what I believed about God would be the same had those 4 words been different.

 in the face of a life-long neurological disease,
my prayer remains the same.

whatever may pass and whatever lies before me,
Let me Be singing when the evening comes.


----

4.small.words.

{no new disease activity}







A Simple Luncheon




My 90-something-year-old granny is in town, 
visiting from the gorgeous plains of the Texas panhandle.

thankfully our return from vacation overlapped her stay by a day, so we were able to see her.
the plan was for my parents, grandmother, and my 2 teenage cousins (who are also visiting) to come for lunch today.

this morning, i was praying for my teenaged cousins, 
who may or may not know Christ as I do.
i ran around the house, steam mopping, dusting, picking up, 
prepping chicken, cutting watermelon,
praying.

i caught myself thinking that one simple lunch wouldn't matter.
my faith wouldn't be noticeable.
they'd eat, they'd leave.


and then I stopped.
and I realized that over the course of my life,
i HAVE had very memorable moments where the kindness of ONE person, in ONE instance,
made a difference in my life.


the counselor at church camp that hugged me as i sat on the wooden steps 
under a starry night and cried out to Jesus.

the sweet church lady who prayed with me when I decided to be baptized.
the older girl at college that wrote me an encouraging note.

the seminary professor's wife that welcomed me into her beautiful home for dinner,
graciously visiting and asking me about my life.

the pastor's wife that invited me to her Sunday school class 
when i didn't really fit with any other class for the summer.


 the co-worker that spoke kind words to me in the teacher's lounge.


those people? 
i doubt they have any idea the impact they had on my life in just 
one moment. 
one conversation.

may I live my life in such a way that those Divine moments,
{most of which I'm not even aware of and won't remember later}
further the cause of Christ.
not for my glory, but for His Great name.


may I be aware that simple conversations?
one small act of Kindess?
they could be remembered forever.

may I make them worth remembering.
 
 


Our Journey to Africa, part 2




we were in between houses, having moved to an apartment while we were building.
our sweet grace abigail had just turned one.



and my baby becoming not-so-baby anymore had my heart longing.
i can remember standing in the shower and crying.
Lord, I want more babies.
more children.
please, Lord, more children.

---


for anyone that's known me for awhile,
you'll know that grace's pregnancy was not easy on me or my family.
hyperemesis gravidaraum made pregnancy a living nightmare,
a nightmare i could not live again.
but i wanted more children.
Lord, please, more children,
became my heart's cry.

---

 and two years after I saw my friend's photos of a small country in east Africa,
she messaged me.
she was going back.

my heart skipped a beat.

{she was going BACK}.

and this time?
i could go with her.


----

thousands of questions later.
thousands of prayers later.
thousands of conversations later,
i boarded a plane from Chicago O'Hare, 
bound for Ug*nda, east Africa.

our hearts were open for adoption
if that's what the Lord had for us.
i longed for more children,
and our hearts had been broken for the fatherless.

as I prayed for months before I went,
I had about six specific prayers I prayed over and over and over
regarding adoption.

Lord,
let me meet our son on the first day in Africa.


 looking back on it, I have no idea why I prayed that.
why was meeting the child the Lord had for us on the first day so important to me?
for whatever reason, I prayed that prayer for days before I left.

---

two and a half years ago,
that plane touched down in Ent*bbe.
we traveled around,
and our first full day in Africa?
spent in an orphanage, 
volunteering, helping the workers change diapers, feed, laugh, and play with sweet, sweet, children.

and that first day?

i sat down on a chair,
giving a child a bottle.

and then, 
in a moment that my heart will remember forever,
a toddler crawled over to me,
pulled himself up on the hem of my long black skirt,
and I looked down into the deep brown eyes of a child.
a child that we would begin to plead for and pray for.
over and over and over again.

---

and though it has taken two years,
a lot of prayers and questions,
and the Lord has finally said YES.
He has paved a way.
that toddler is now an almost-4-year old.
and in the coming months, he will 
{Lord willing}
become legally what my heart has known since that very first day.


our son.

----

to be continued.