Category Archives: Jesus

The bunny in the window

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The most adorable thing I’ve ever seen in a hospital gift shop.

The ceramic bunny with powder blue overalls, paws tucked in the pockets, long- ingly looked at me each day from the glass display shelf.

No words were needed. We were just two innocent figures in an odd place sharing a kindred desire to escape the confines of the hospital.

Neither of us knew when and if that would happen.
Maybe he was jealous of me as he stood motionless among the other ceramic rabbits, after all I was in the lobby area and my feet moved swiftly.

To be fair though, I was envious of him also.

He was in a gift shop, he made people smile and he was among other pretty ceramic friends.

Last pic of the bunny and me

I felt uglier and older every time I walked into the hospital.

Only once did I venture into the gift shop to lift him up to see if I had the cash to get him sprung.

He was $38 and I gently set him back down to return to his post.

Each day for ten days prior to seeing my mom, I’d go and check on the ceramic bunny with the powder blue overalls.

And each time, an internal battle would loom within as I pondered taking him home with me.

Did I really want an emblem of my mom’s turmoil?
What if my mom died here?
And even if she didn’t, could I one day gaze at the ceramic bunny dwelling in my home and conjure up good sentiments about the whole experience?

And this is what I saw an hour later

Alas, the decision was taken from me. Here’s what happened.

I had briefly visited the ceramic bunny and gone to my mom’s room.

She was a disheveled mess and it was as if she had completely given up.

Honestly it ticked me off and left to my own druthers, I would have stormed out of the room leaving her to feel sorry for herself.

Yet I couldn’t do it.

Call it pride that I didn’t want people to think I was a bad daughter.

Call it love because I truly love the woman.

Call it Jesus because He alone gave me strength.

But I stayed and I got a stupid wheelchair and pushed my mom down the hallway. I told her we were going to go to the courtyard and I was going to introduce her to my friend at the gift shop. She was nonplussed.

While on the way, I reminded my mom to lift her head up, open her eyes and speak in full sentences. She needed to engage the world in order to get better. My words were met with limited compliance…I pushed her eagerly to the lobby right up to the glass window.

“Mom, I want to show you the ceramic bunny I’ve been visiting every day,” my voice and pace quickened in excitement as we pulled up to the display.

Nothing – and the other ceramic bunnies were mum about my special friend’s sudden disappearance.

photocopy3-3The cer- amic bunny with powder blue overalls was gone.

Someone had taken him.

How could that be? I had just seen him less than an hour ago!

Why did someone steal my joy?

Why was he getting to go home and I was still stuck here?

Did the ladies in the gift shop think I was such a creeper for taking so many pictures of him that they withdrew that bunny from the stock?

Where did he go?

Did someone get him for me?

Numb would best describe my feelings and I’m being totally honest even if it sounds weird. I am home now and the visits to the hospital have stopped.

My mom left the hospital a few days later to continue her recovery.

I tried attaching myself to another ceramic bunny in the gift shop, one that was more in my price range but it just didn’t feel right. I did, however, find another little friend in the hospital which I will soon share with you but there is something I need to learn from this experience.

Albeit wistfully, I now see that the ceramic bunny in powder blue overalls as a welcome, temporary diversion to strife.

He provided me a creative, silly outlet to express myself each day. We weren’t meant to be together but only for a short season of life.

The bunny, my mom and I all needed to go to our respective homes and leave this place behind. My mom is getting better and healing in a variety of ways.

Hospitals and hair

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Pretty blossoms in the hospital courtyard

Having a good hair day in a hospital seems like a waste. Yesterday I was out in public and would have appreciated a bit of flounce. Today I sit in Room 115, a small, antiseptic space squished in a chair. My hair and I listen to the sounds of my mother wracked with pain and wheezing. My hair displays the life my mother needs more. Stupid tv options, frequent interruptions, feelings of hopelessness, confusion and frustration fill the skull but my pink-streaked hair has vitality. Ironic. Hard to concentrate, don’t have medical degree, unclear on every level. Ate homemade soup, heard from friends far and wide. Many praying, offers of support and love cover nearly every state and portions of Central America. Aunt spent the night at the hospital and heard the screams of pain. Oh Jesus. 

Romans 8:26 
Likewise the Spirit helps us 
in our weakness. For we do not know 
what to pray for as we ought, 
but the Spirit himself intercedes for us 
with groanings too deep for words.

When I arrived at the hospital this morning, my aunt’s hair was disheveled and if it had a voice, her hair would have stories I just can’t hear right now. My mom’s hair is sweaty and matted. It needs its owner to get up and wash it and style it. I would even be ok if she used the curling iron and that’s saying something. 

Having a good hair day in a hospital seems like a waste, at least it does for me. 

And it makes me wonder…

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It’s true, mothering has allowed me 
to blossom as a woman.

I hesitated for a moment when my orange hair, freckle face OS asked me a question during dinner last night.


“Is it ever boring just staying home all day and being a mom?”


No sooner had the words parted from those teenage ruby lips when he profusely apologized for his frankness. Truly Ike has said nastier things to me without a hint of remorse (and been punished for it, thank you very much!) but it was obvious he didn’t want to hurt my feelings. 


I think it’s an honest question. But what is the correct answer? Here’s what I said.


“Sometimes it is boring but that’s usually because I’m not doing the things I need to be doing.”


It was seven and a half years before traded in my ambitious career goals and embraced the job that had been waiting for me – full-time motherhood.

The day I learned that we were going to be parents! 
Notice the EPT (Early Pregnancy Test) box 
the Hubs is holding! 

So resolute was I to stay in the business world, that upon learning that I was pregnant with my oldest OS, I ordered a TWO YEAR subscription to Working Mother magazine. I remember simultaneously nursing Nate and attempting to have a contract negotiation on the phone only ten days after his birth. But no one was going to change my opinion…not my husband, not my mom, not even my baby.


It took two more children before I figured out that the Lord had divinely appointed me to be a stay-at-home parent. I can be a bit stubborn but I was relentlessly targeted. The voice in my heart told me repeatedly that I was “perfect for the job” even if I couldn’t see my qualifications. My Heavenly Father was changing me from the inside out…

Three dudes in suits


I sincerely wrestled about what to do with my life. It wasn’t an easy decision as I recall sitting on our eggplant colored couch with the Hubs in the winter of 1998. Bless that man as he listened and encouraged me. I questioned, what if full-time motherhood was boring? What if I hated staying home with the guys? What if I was lonely? What if my brain turned to mush? The Hubs reassured me that it was going to be ok. And he was right. 

Now 13 years later, my youngest OS was lovingly challenging me to take stock at how it’s been going for me…this whole stay-at-home mom gig.

When this kid gives this mom flowers “just because”
you have to feel good about yourself! 😉

Although my boys are older, my role as their mom is still important. To have a 21 year old son who while home from West Point brings me a bouquet of flowers “just because” is evidence that I made the right decision. To be appreciated for a pantry filled with food, much of it I prepared, affirms my position in the household. When the world laments for me because I’m a mom of three sons, two of them teenage boys, I scoff at their pettiness for I am among the most blessed. 

Three legos and a football champ!

Yes, my sweet orange hair, freckle face OS, sometimes being a mother has lackluster moments but that happens with any job as you will one day discover. Jesus gave me this exalted opportunity to raise three men of honor and faith and I will forever give him praise. 

Oh and one more thing, I hope I haven’t offended anyone,
this is my personal story of transformation
and I realize other people have different mothering journeys. 

PS. I’d love to hear from you. What interesting questions have your children have posed and how you have answered them? 

Surgery – when the time is right, whenever that is!

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Unfortunately, the adage “expect the unexpected” and the expression “hurry up and wait” are true this morning as Nate’s surgery has been delayed.

He walked into the surgery room, mentally prepared to get his ACL fixed and walked right back out minutes later because of an equipment malfunction.

The night before, the three of us enjoyed dinner at Sushi King followed by ice cream just a few doors down the street. Nate was as ready as he could be for the surgery bright and early in the morning.

But at this point, my OS has been told that the equipment might not even be fixed today. The sterilizer is broken. I think that’s a good reason to postpone things however, my firstie is hungry, thirsty and frustrated, who can blame him?

Yesterday I found myself counting our blessings, taking stock of the goodness which has resulted through this trial. So instead of complaining which is unproductive, I’m going to concentrate on the positive. This is just a partial list and I hope to later include other blessings which have lifted our spirits.

Don”t be jealous, get your own ACL surgery 😉

My van is loaded with treats for Nathan. Cards and gifts from family as well as from people who don’t even know my boy! When Nate said he wanted me to bring him dehydrated apples, I obliged but a mother who doesn’t even know him also wanted to support a member of the military. She dehydrated a bunch of apples for Nate. They look delicious!

Bible Study friends holding a bag of dehydrated apples.
They donated 40 pounds of apples for my OS!The women in my weekly Bible Study pitched in and bought a box of apples for me to dehydrate for my OS. We’re talking 40 POUNDS of apples! In addition, my Bible Study leader and another WP mom donated bags of apples for my healthy food project. Such bounty! When I popped open the back of the van to give Nate some of the things, his mouth was agape at the amount of apples he now has to enjoy! I felt so proud of my friends and the community of support.

The West Point networks for parents and mothers are extraordinary. Through a parent list-serve and a closed West Point Moms facebook group, I have been encouraged beyond measure. I learned about Mobilegs which is a lightweight crutch alternative. When I contacted the company and told them about Nate’s upcoming surgery, they eagerly offered me a military discount.

Nate trying on his Mobilegs before surgery.

The Mobilegs arrived at his barracks yesterday afternoon.

When we met Nate, he was grinning and carrying them. “I’m actually kinda excited to use them,” Nate remarked to me last night.

During dinner, when the owner of the restaurant learned that Nate was a West Point cadet having surgery the next day, he made him a free special mango sushi roll. Our spirits were high. Truly I’m learning that the little things we can all do for each other are very significant. THANK YOU SUSHI KING!!
Mango, cream cheese, crab sushi roll made
just for Nate – delicious kindness



Another great blessing was Aaron and I drove to West Point and enjoyed a scenic, pleasant trip. We got along 96% of the time and although the last 4% was pretty ugly (we were less than ten miles away from West Point!), our relationship quickly returned to its formerly happy state. 


And as if we hadn’t be given above and beyond what we even imagined, we had a surprise awaiting us. I opened the small closet in Nate’s hospital room and there, tucked in the far corner, I spotted the thing we never expected. A pair of bright red boxer briefs!!! Carefully I pinched the undies with my fingers and wiggled them at Nate! He was, um, speechless! I’m pretty sure an angel had left them there for my boy. It doesn’t get better than that, my friends!

A complimentary pair of undies left for Nate! What great fortune!

And there have been other blessings which I must acknowledge. Right now though I’m completely exhausted and trusting in the Lord’s perfect timing. Please know that your words and thoughtfulness are so meaningful. We’ll keep you posted…

Wednesday remix – no more land tortoises

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So sorry for the Wednesday remix delay. I knew what I wanted to post and it was a matter of scanning the pics, etc. which always takes longer than usual.

Can you say ouch? I can. 

On a side note, I’m having elbow surgery on Wednesday. It’s not major surgery but it might delay some posting since it’s my right arm, my “writing arm.” Time permitting, I might create some advance posts in the interim.


But back to the remix… Tonight I offer my post in honor of my oldest OS who spent two weeks in El Salvador with his bonita and two weeks with the fam this summer. With all that he has accomplished as a young man, Nate has embodied the Romans 8:37 spirit in being “more than a conqueror” in so many ways. By his example, Nathan has shown me how to Do Hard Things. In recognition of our collective swimming accomplishments both past and present, behold my toe-headed boy back in 1995. 

Nearly all known floatation devices were employed. 
The only kid on the swim team with the works. No shame. 
This is sweetest sugar boy I’ve ever seen in the pool!



There is nothing more precious or inspiring than seeing your child doing something you, yourself cannot do. Replete with floaties, nose plugs, swimming goggles and a noodle, that boy persevered. He didn’t worry about how he looked, my OS just wanted to stay alive during the swim meet! Cheering from the pool side, I was crazy proud of him!

As you can see, Nate didn’t inherit his daddy’s natural love of water. At least for a short while, my OS possessed his mama’s land tortoise qualities. 


Go Nate, go! You can doey it! He has come a long way as a cadet at West Point since completing survivor swimming his yuk year. 


Then in a strange twist of genetics, I believe that this summer, I came to inherit his determination. 


Oh and I can barely believe what I’m about to tell you! It’s no coincidence that AT THE SAME POOL, I jumped again into the deep end of the pool with even less forethought. And then although lacking any semblance of finesse, I stepped/jumped off the diving board 15 times yesterday. Here’s the amazing footage and it’s ok if you laugh, just keep it to yourself. Every time I see this video, I feel incredibly embarrassed and joyful. My youngest OS informed me that I “frolicked” off the diving board. Kids these days…

Years separated our victories but we have broken through barriers. Nate was one of my heroes when he was five and will always be as a man, son and Soldier. 

Thank you, dear readers for your messages both public and private. Keep doing your own hard things, if I can do it, so can you by the power of the Lord. 

And the winner is…

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Ashley was sincerely excited when I told her the news! Here’s what she picked. Yay!

“I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”



I wasn’t sure if I should do a give-away. Particularly with the “prize” being something I made. What if no one commented on my post or fb? 


Talk about petty worries. Seriously. But my feeble mind easily goes “there.” That insidious place of doubt, shame and exposure. It’s raw, vulnerable and oh so real. My orange hair, freckle-face OS does this (not about a blog but about a brother) and it’s a sure-fire sign he’s heading for trouble.


When his sentence starts with, “Well, Aaron…” Ike is cruising for a bruising. Whatever proceeds those two words spells problems for my 14 year old. Even with a verbal caution from a parent, he is so resolute on seeing injustice and unfairly judging a situation, Ike can’t see things clearly. 


His mama has the same problem…and not just with a silly blog either. Those thoughts which cause my spirit to be as thin as an onion skin, they are not from someone who loves me. They are from the Prince of Lies, the Enemy, Satan. He wants me to feel defeated and despondent about everything.


But he’s wrong. He’s a jerk and he wants to invade every aspect of my life. But he can’t because I’m

“For everyone who has been born of God overcomes the world.
And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith.”



He doesn’t have the final word on my life. 










And so I must remember this… I am a

“For you are all children of light, children of the day.
We are not of the night or of the darkness.” 
and
“For in him the whole fullness of deity dwells bodily,
and you have been filled in him, who is the head of all rule and authority.”
Through none of my efforts or talents but only because of the Lord’s grace, I am furthermore…
“There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.”
Thanks to everyone for participating! It meant a lot to me! Encouraging words bless me. Also, thanks to God for His ageless reminders and timeless truth!

What kind of question was THAT?

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Contemplate your road

Earlier in the week my friend Michele asked my middle OS a question. She did this in front of me and it wasn’t the sort of question most well-behaved women pose…


Not only was the question unusual but so were Aaron’s and my reaction. 

Ok, so this was her question –

“Aaron, did you write your obituary today?”

What would you think if your bestie asked your kid that question?

With nary a hint of awkwardness, Aaron smiled and said that yes, he had indeed written his obituary. It was almost as if she had asked my OS if he was going to play his guitar, nothing shocking entered his response.

And if it’s possible to be an outside observer of yourself, I was surprised by my own reaction to that question. I didn’t smack Michele upside the head nor did I burst into tears, something I can do with the greatest of ease. I just listened to their verbal exchange.

How strange it is that two of my three OS’s have written their obituaries. How peculiar that I am telling you. How not surprising that I am NOW crying as I continue to type this post. 

During their junior years in high school, it has been a standard assignment at our sons’ school. In British Literature class, students  pen their own obituary. Neither of my OS would have set out to do this independently but I’m glad they did. Trust me, you learn a lot about your kids with this type of homework.

So by now, you’re wondering, “Well, what did they write? What did you learn?”

Nate’s senior pic 2008
Nate was 85 and he died on a Thursday after saving his grandson from oncoming traffic. (Ok, I find that part funny, I mean, how old is his grandson???) “Nathan lived an exciting life that was marked by service to his country and service to the Lord.” My OS achieved a measure of political stature in his lifetime and was well respected in his community. He was married and had a quiver of children.

Aaron was a nonogenerian, just three years shy of being 100. He enjoyed a long marriage and was blessed with six kids, 17 grandkids and ten great-grandkids. He had been a pastor for 41 years.

I love that face. I love that boy. 
Oh how I long for these to be their true stories. Long lives, fruitful, productive, reproductive men who loved their families and the Lord. My heart’s cry is for them to breathe their last completely satisfied with what they gave to others, praising God for every page in their book of life. And while the thought of them actually having an obituary is more than this mama can handle right now, I appreciate the exercise of them consciously thinking about how they are living. 



In my next blog post, I am going to share with you my obituary. It is of a different sort and I’ve been waiting for the right time to put it out there. Since I strive to be honest and don’t want to string it along just in the hopes of getting a few more “hits” on my blog, I do not have a terminal disease. 


Have you ever thought about your children’s legacy? How do you think you would react to this assignment? I’d love to hear!

Dads

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My husband didn’t really know what he wanted to be when he grew up. As a young boy, aside from aspiring to be like Jacques Cousteau, he didn’t have a dream profession. 

One of my all-time fave pics of the Hubs

But the one thing the Hubs says he always wanted was to be a dad. 


On April 12, 1990, I assisted him in achieving this dream, thank you very much, when Nate was born. Our baby had a cone-head but to us, he was gorgeous. Four years later, the Hubs’ prayers were answered again this time with Aaron. Our middle OS was a juicy butterball, we were smitten. Lastly, in 1996, the Hubs became the father of a ginger. Ike is our orange hair, freckle face child who routinely makes life interesting. The Hubs is the youngest of three sons. He knows what it’s like to live with brothers and now he can speak with authority about raising sons. That’s pretty cool if you ask me. 

Look at that snappy dresser rockin’ the red tie!



I surveyed the long list of prospective suitors and husbands fancying me nearly 25 years ago. 🙂 Trust me when I say that the field of eligible men was miles long.  Seriously! ;% I considered each man’s potential spousal and parental qualifications and compiled graphs and charts or at least that’s how I’m choosing to remember things! Finally out of a field of many (ahem), I picked the Hubs. God has reminded me that I chose well. 

There ain’t nothing wimpy about needing your dad

Observation of the Hubs‘ impressive skills as a father have come to light during our recent health concerns with Aaron. Per Aaron’s request, the Hubs was often upstairs by his side. Our 16 year old OS wanted his daddy to rub his head. When teenage guy is reduced to saying, “Daddy,” you know he’s in pain.  


I can attest to Mark’s talents. When the Hubs and I were first married, he would rub my head and gently tug on my hair when my head felt like it was going to burst due to migraines. 


Our bedroom was clothed in darkness, the Hubs sat next to his sweet boy and rubbed his head with just the right amount of pressure. Then on Saturday night, we sat by Aaron’s bedside at the hospital. Aaron could barely utter a word. The pain was so great. With it being the third hospital visit in days, the Hubs and I were worried and exhausted. As desperate and tired parents, we felt helpless but I heard Mark when he said aloud by the bed rail, “give this to me.” 

Three year old Nate with a fractured skull, don’t recommend it

Without a second thought, the Hubs would have traded brains with our son. If he could have assumed Aaron’s excruciating pain, he would have done it. I felt that way when Nate was three years old and he fell out of our second-story bedroom window. Our oldest OS suffered a fractured skull and as we waited for the test results in the waiting room, I told the doctor that if Nate needed any body part, any part at all, the doctor could take it from me and I would die, no questions asked. I gave him permission without hesitation. My hope is that everyone who reads this post has no idea what I’m writing about but if you’re a parent, you probably get it. 


Through all of this I too, have cried out for my Father. My Heavenly Father listened to my pleas and sustained me. I have sensed His presence and leaned on Him for strength. 


The Hubs wasn’t saying “give this to me” to anyone but the Lord. Such is the father’s love for his son. As I hear the sweet sounds of my middle OS strumming on his guitar, this Wednesday night is especially lovely. 

Diagnosis

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Results are in and the diagnosis is status migrainosus. I’m not clapping for joy but I’m praising the Lord we aren’t dealing with a brain tumor. My father died of brain cancer and I’d be lying if I said that a pervasive fear of those words hadn’t swept over me the last week.


Aaron was not thrilled to learn that he might be out of school for another 2-3 more weeks. As we begin this new medicine protocol, I pray he can return to school sooner. My middle OS has started a course of steroids and although we have been getting along famously, I suspect that prednisone is going to jeopardize that a bit. 

what a beautiful sight seeing Aaron upright and being goofy!

Today we ventured out for sushi. My OS has lost weight since falling ill and if that boy wanted sushi and our new budget could handle it, for goodness’ sake, he was going to get sushi. 


We, well, at least me, I take so much for granted. Lord, forgive me for the times when I just assume my kids are going to remain healthy. I overlook that my OSs will rebound from an illness and don’t always recognize that as a true blessing from you. Father, I’m sorry for all the times when I don’t give you praise for my own body functioning as it should.


We have gone from this….

wow, i hate this picture

to this…

Aaron + food = optimism
Confucious say contemplation over a fortune cookie is better than contemplation over a sick child

















He still is gaunt and not 100% but I see glimpses of my boy returning. When he is back to his “normal” self, here is how we’re going to celebrate.

feel free to borrow this recipe for your next celebration

Nothing says fiesta more than Party Lentil Soup, right?


Thank you gentle readers for your support and prayers!


aaron’s mom

The soul of MY soup

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“To possess a cook who makes perfect soups is to possess a jewel of great price. 
A woman who cannot make soup 
should not be allowed to marry.”

P. Mortan Shand, A Book of Food, 1928
Um, that seems a little harsh but when the going gets tough, I do what most women do…
I make vegetable broth. 

This is some serious broth action


As a foodie and mama of three OS, it’s my attempt, I guess, to put things together and make something good. Into the kettle, I put celery, scallions, garlic, half a red onion, a tomato and two cooked potatoes that were lounging in the refrigerator doing nothing. I then threw in some radish leaves, carrots, a stalk of frozen corn I bought in the summer at the farmers’ market. Half a red pepper, a handful of frozen leeks, kosher salt, bay leaf and spices bubble and mix with the other ingredients. The amber broth is flavorful. I have a sick child upstairs, I feel so confused. But this homemade broth imbues a sense of peace and accomplishment within me.

Dramatic, slightly forced vegetable broth smile



In some ways, I think this is like the Scripture found in

Romans 8:28 (English Standard Version)


And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.
Aaron is eating next to nothing. He needs nutrition and hydration. I picture my OS sipping on this broth. Not sure that’s going to happen but wow, if it did, that would be the best. I’d feel like I did something significant. 
better than the boxed stuff, fo’ shur!
God is going to use this trial in our lives. He is more resourceful than I’ll ever be. My simple efforts at gathering things together to make a hearty broth pale to what Jesus does with our lives. He uses ALL things together for good for those who believe in Him. I believe, Lord. Aaron believes too. Let it be.