what i read today...

today i received my "momsense" magazine from MOPS international in the mail (side note... i heart MOPS... you should find one near you if you are a mom of a 5 or under-year-old).  as i was browsing through it during lunch time and not paying attention to my daughter pouring apple juice all over herself, i came across an article titled: Twins are Hard, Terrible Twos are Terrible and Silence is Golden Scary.  sounded interesting so i started to read, and when i finished i decided i HAD to share it.  i think you will... um... well, just read it:

On Saturday, my angels got up an hour early.  I don't do mornings, so I put on Sesame Street and dozed off on the couch.  Apparently my dozing had turned into full-on sleeping.  As the final song came on, I woke up, opened my eyes and saw that our game cupboards were opened and every game we owned was pulled off and dumped out.  Jenga, Pick-up Sticks, cards and chess pieces were strewn about our living room.  George was trying to talk on the Super Nintendo controller like a phone.  Patrick was trying to put chess pieces into the Super Nintendo game slot.  This was only the beginning.
That afternoon, after my husband, John, the boys and I had cleaned up the living room, I babysat for our dear friend, Maddy.  I put the boys in their room for a nap but didn't want to stay with them and leave Maddy alone.  So I prayed that they would sleep in their toddler beds and not get into everything.  The only things in their room are two beds, a taped-down monitor and closet doors held shut with tension rods.  How on earth could they get into trouble in there, right?  So I played with Maddy in the living room.
After about an hour, the monitor was quiet.  Could this be the first nap that the boys had fallen asleep by themselves?  I was so excited!  I decided to check in on them to be sure.  When I opened the door, George looked at me and said, "Monkey!"  All I could see were mounds of clothes, toys and books.  Somehow, my darlings had gotten the tension rod out of their door (mind you, it's about 5 feet off the ground) and pulled nearly everything out of their closet.  Needless to say, nap time was over.
Thankfully, yesterday our house required very little clean-up.  Today, however, is a different story.  Even though the boys don't take morning naps anymore, I still have them play in their room for about an hour after breakfast.  Since we have a small house, the change of scenery is good for them.  And I can take a shower and drink my coffee in peace.  Often, the "rest time" results in tears because someone steals someone's train, and the hour is cut short.  But today the boys played so nicely that they stayed in their room for the full hour.  In fact, they were giggling so much, I even considered leaving them for a bit longer.
As I opened their door, the strong scent of poop invaded my nose.  My two beautiful children had stripped off their clothes, torn off their diapers and were "painting" their room with poop.  The foot boards of their beds were painted.  The walls were painted.  And chunks of poop were on the floor and in the heater.  I closed the door.  I walked away.  I called John.  And then, I laughed a crazy, hysterical laugh.
by Kathryn Gleich

timing is everything

today has been a day of many frustrations. 
1) my daughter left sunday school with a bruise on her forehead because a little boy was hitting her
2) the art project i've been preparing in my mind is not coming out nearly as cool as i'd hoped it would
3) after a month on benadryl, my daughter's nose is still ceaselessly running
4) while doing dishes i accidentally knocked down one of my favorite bowls which shattered into hundreds of ceramic pieces
5) a whole week has passed and i have not engaged in any intentional play/learn/develop time with my daughter

all of these have combined nicely to make me feel very defeated today.  but i think it's the last one that's really rubbing me raw.  when she was diagnosed with seizures one of the toughest parts was my complete inability to do anything to "fix" her.  it was horrible to feel so helpless.  when she was "diagnosed" with some developmental delays i immediately felt the burden to do my part and do everything i could to catch her up.  but let me tell you, this burden has become so heavy, and honestly, there are just some days that i don't pick it up.  and i'm learning that this is okay... but i'll share my thoughts on that some other time.

what i want to process through is the question "why hasn't God healed her (developmentally) yet?"  i am currently doing a Bible Study called "Faithful, Abundant, True" by Kay Arthur, Priscilla Shirer and Beth Moore.  the study i'm doing today is called "our unmanageable God."  in it, priscilla asks the question "Have you ever asked God for a tangible answer and He made you wait to receive it?"  um, yes.  then she asks, "How did you respond to His delayed answer?"  do i have to answer this one?  next, "Were there results that might not have happened without the delay?"  ohh, now this questions is making me uncomfortable.  finally she asks, "Why do you think we often become so frustrated with the Lord when we perceive that answers to our prayers are bing delayed," to which i wrote, "Because I believe that I am ready for the answer now- I want results now."

as soon as i wrote this the Lord just gripped my heart with some hard but powerful truth.  i DO NOT know His perfect timing, or His perfect plan.  apparently i believe that my timing is perfect, but have i ever stopped to think that the waiting might be a part of His plan- sweet time that He wants to use to prepare me for His answer.  time that He longs to use to speak to my heart, to quiet me with His love, to strengthen my faith.

but here's the thing that really hit me:  what if God is delaying the answer because He needs to prepare my heart for the answer that i don't want.  what is God is never going to allow my daughter to catch up developmentally?

i am not ready for that to be the answer to my prayers. 

but if it is His answer, then i have to believe that He is using today, and tomorrow, and yesterday to prepare my heart for this answer... or whatever answer He may choose to send my way

so i guess that was my very long about way of saying that today has been hard.  waiting and trying and failing are hard.  but God is speaking to my heart and i'm grateful that His truth can still penetrate.

a year's reflection, post #2

in the hope that i might get myself back on this blogging train i've decided to try and post multiple times this week.  yesterday i gave a very brief introduction to what life looked like after my daughter was diagnosed with epilespy.  today i want to expand on one facet of that journey: my faith walk with the Lord

having grown up in the church, with a personal relationship with the Lord from a very young age, i've always wondered what my faith would look like if it was ever truly tested.  the day i learned that my daughter had epilepsy, my faith was thrown into the fire.

how do i begin to describe the desperation that flowed out of my heart and into my prayers.  with all my heart i wanted the Lord to heal my daughter completely.  like i said yesterday, i woke up every day hoping that it would be the day that He would heal her and take away her seizures.  and every night i went to bed broken because the seizures remained.  test one: can i believe that God is able to heal her, even when He doesn't?

as i earnestly prayed for her healing i came to realize that i had to completely release her whole life into the Lord's hands.  i had always known this in my head, but all of the sudden this became a concious decision that i had to make.  finding myself in a situation that i had zero control over, i found myself kneeling before the Lord and surrendering her life to Him.  test two: can i believe that God IS love, and cannot operate outside of His love for me and my daughter, even in a situation riddled with pain and fear.

i found myself crying, almost daily.  i so wanted to fix everything.  i wanted to return to my plans and my purposes.  and i came to realize that not only did i have to surrender my daughter's life into the Lord's hands, but i had to release my plans for her life as well.  test three: can i believe that the Lord's plans for her life are better, far better, than mine?  can i believe that He is truly soverign in her life?  in my life?

while there were many, many other small but significant tests that i walked through, these three tests sum up all that i really wrestled with.  if you stop and read those questions... no, not just read, but really ask yourself those questions, the answers are not so easy.  it's easy to say  that we believe God is all that He says He is.  but when our life situations seem to contradict one of His attributes (e.g. my daughter is sick and yet He is the healer), this belief becomes a decision.  and let me tell you, it's not always an easy decison to make.

several months after her initial diagnosis, i was reading the passage about the two builders.  you know the story about the wise man who built his house upon the rock, and the foolish man who built his upon the sand (sing that sunday school song with me).  as i was reading this the Holy Spirit spoke so loudly to my heart.  i realized in that moment that i had, in fact, built my house upon the rock.  the rains had come down in my life, and the floods had definitely risen.  and yet my house stood firm.  did i wrestle to truly believe that God was truly soverign and loving as i watched my daughter have seizure after seizure.  yes.  but i still chose to believe.  i still chose to trust and pray through every fearful, tear filled moment.

i think that i will always wrestle to fully believe that God is ALL that He says He is,  but i will not give up the wrestling match.  and as much as i hated everything about my daughters seizures, i will always be grateful that it ushered me toward a more intimate and genuine relationship with the Lord.

hi.  i'm back.  i know that my postings have been few.  and extremely far between.  let's just go ahead and skip over all that and start anew.  again.

this post has been rehersed over and over again in my mind and yet still i'm not quite sure where to start or where it's going to end.  this might have to take the form of several posts.

one year ago, on march 30, my husband and i found out that our daughter has epilepsy.  after an EEG on march 4, and several weeks of waiting (because the doctors failed to tell us the results of the test were in) our suspicions of seizures were confirmed.  and my heart was broken.

sitting there in that cold, sterile doctor's office i felt broken.  so broken.  and afraid.  and confused.  and weak.  and, most of all, helpless.

for the first time in my life i was in the middle of a situation that i could do NOTHING to control.  my daughter had seizures.  40-50 seizures a day at the height of it all.  and all i could do was watch.  and cry.  and pray.  for 29 years, every event, every situation, every circumstance i encountered, i had some semblance of control.  i was able to choose, or decide or work to change or alter whatever needed altering or changing.  but with my daughter's epilepsy i was helpless.  and i hated it. 

the feeling of helplessness, for me, was just a short jump from dispair, hoplessness, and fear.  every morning i woke up hoping, desperately hoping, that it would be the day that we didn't see a seizure.  and every night i went to bed so broken and discouraged by the multitude of seizures that she was still having.

i found myself broken before the Lord, needing Him in a way that i have NEVER needed Him before.  the fact that i was helpless to do anything to fix my daughter brought me to a deeper dependence than i have ever known.... but i think i want to save my reflections on this aspect for another post.

it is slightly surreal to think that one year ago i had just been tossed into this sea of darkness with no idea of what my daughter's future might hold with her diagnosis of epilepsy.  it has been a year that i have no desire to ever repeat.  but i can honestly say that i wouldn't undo the year either. 

i think i'll leave this post a little open ended... for now.  no conclusion per se, just a promise to write and reflect more on this past year soon.