Nov 20, 2019 | The Good Word
It was a wet, cold and rainy Monday that mostly seemed like just another school day. The only difference was that it was time to pull the plastic off my sixth grader’s new Math curriculum.
I’ve been inspired by some great teachers on this homeschooling journey to remember that it’s better for us to plod our way carefully and thoroughly through a curriculum until we understand it all, than to rush our way to the final lesson by the end of the school year so that we can jump into the next year’s curriculum on the first day of school.
We started this beautiful curriculum (RightStart Math) when Asher was a bright and happy little five year old. We put numbers in front of teddy bears and matched the cards that would add up to ten. We build pyramids from tiny centimeter cubes. We played games to help us remember our multiplication facts and compare fractions with percentages.
We even talked about how finding the right answer in Math is a lot like looking for truth: two different answers can’t both be true, and the truth matters.
We’ve definitely cried a few tears. Turned some erasers into nubs. Thought about balling up a worksheet or two to file it in the trashcan. But we’ve persevered.
So I finally pulled the plastic off Level G (we started at A), and began looking over the first lesson in preparation for a new year of school.
I was in for a big surprise.
The notes I normally start by reading at the beginning of that lesson were addressed NOT to me… but to my student. He has transitioned to a year where he will be guiding himself through his Math curriculum.
There have been review lessons where I get to hand Asher a worksheet and let him get down to business and show me what he’s learned, but 95% of the time, Math has been me, sitting beside him, asking the questions, discussing the lesson, guiding and leading.
I didn’t know whether to cheer or cry. Or both. (I chose both.)
So teach us to number our days,
That we may gain a heart of wisdom.
{Psalm 90:12}
I immediately wondered: if I had known that last lesson was the last lesson, would I have done anything differently? And I remembered that for the first time I’d filled out the little paper certificate that comes at the end of each year’s curriculum, filled it out, and written a note of encouragement on the back, commending Asher for his hard work and how well he’d done through the year.
I was grateful I’d taken the time to do that… but if I’d known that last lesson was the last lesson I’d have to really sit down and “teach” him… what might I have done differently?
I wonder how much of our lives we would live differently if we knew? If we knew “this is the last chance I will have to speak to this person on the phone.” Or this is the last time I’ll shampoo this child’s hair, she is going to take showers now.
The truth is, most of the time we don’t know. We don’t know we’re saying goodbye for the last time. We don’t know we’re coaching the last game, attending the last meeting, having the last conversation.
But what would we change if we acted like it might be?
I think we’d say a lot more of the things we’re glad we decided to say, and maybe we’d say fewer of the things we afterwards tend to regret.
I think we’d be more enthusiastic. Less distracted. More present.
I think I would have taken even more time, and moved more slowly through the previous year’s curriculum, enjoying all the lessons where we were just supposed to play card games and strengthen our skills, instead of rushing along to try to reach the end.
With all the things you and I tend to do, and all the change that tends to take place over the course of a lifetime, tomorrow probably holds at least some small last chance for all of us. To smile at a neighbor or send a card or make that one phone call. Or pop some popcorn and have a party to celebrate finishing a year of Math.
The wisdom that comes from numbering our days might also be the perspective that can only come from remembering how, way leads on to way, as Robert Frost put it in The Road Not Taken:
“And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.”
It does so often seem that way leads on to way. Remember you won’t come back to today, dear friends, so perhaps every chance you get? Savor the moment. Share the kindness. Choose the road that looks most like love.
xCC
I hope you’re encouraged today, friend. If so, I’d love to welcome you to subscribe here for a weekly dose of encouragement.
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Update on Blake :: Thank You So Much For Your Love + Prayers!!
Saturday night, I stood in the entranceway to our living room watching four Collie children crowded around the coffee table playing together, and I wept. It is such a joy to have our kids together, and the reminder that these moments are gifts is still very, very fresh! Blake continues to do so, so well. He is sleeping in his own room, in his own bed on the bottom bunk, and sleeping well. His left arm and hand continue to improve and when he notices himself doing something difficult with his left hand, and turns to show me, his face lights up. (And, it is hard not to giggle: because of his short term memory deficits, he sometimes has that same “I’m doing this for the first time!” celebration feeling more than a few times!)
Our entire family is so excited about the party Saturday and Blake is very enthusiastically looking forward to it! We are planning to enjoy singing and giving thanks with a talented band who are dear friends, and then another dear friend of mine has some fun activities planned for the kiddos to make this party a great celebration! Please plan to come, bring a lawn chair, maybe a picnic, or an extra lawn game… pray for beautiful weather and join us in the celebration!!!
Blake asked some more questions this week about his aneurism — specifically what would happen if it started bleeding again. I explained that he’d get another headache and we would take him to the hospital again and they would stop the bleeding again. I was amazed at how he took this information — as easily as if it was nothing to fear. A shrug of the shoulders and he was onto the next subject while I was trying to calm my own heart rate. Please continue to pray for our sweet and brave boy — that the gamma radiation and our many prayers would be successful and the AVM would indeed disappear, that Blake’s first neuro-opthalmology appointment would go very well on Wednesday, for the complete healing of his vision and wounds, and for the strengthening and recovery of his short term memory. He is remembering better and better and more and more — you can sometimes see a difference from one day to the next!
God has been good to us! We look forward to Raising a Hallelujah for His goodness on Saturday!! Please join us!!
Nov 13, 2019 | The Good Word
It was just a post-it note with cursive lettering and less than twenty words, but it somehow felt like a sucker punch to the gut when I read it.
I was checking my eight-year old in to the Emergency Room and these words whispered the strangest mixture of hope and fear into my heart:
Consider it nothing but joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you fall into various trials. {James 1:2, KJV}
My immediate question was: what trial have I just fallen into? Am I about to lose my son? I’m not ready for that trial. I don’t want that trial. I’m falling into a trial and I should consider it …. joy?
I thought that was asking an awful lot of this Mama sitting, trembling on the wrong side of the desk.
The words flashed into my mind again on the helicopter ride to the next town over. I wrestled and furrowed my brows and closed my eyes until I could finally open my palms and lay them face up on my lap. I was trying to say, “Lord, I trust You. And Lord, I am holding onto You.”
Palms up. I am Yours. Palms open. Blake is Yours.
But, Lord… please.
I revisited that verse again in the days that followed and found it was an abbreviation of a full and beautiful promise:
Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing. {James 1:2}
We found in ourselves a kind of steadfastness — powered by prayer and the power of the Holy Spirit — that walked us through, day after day. Night after night as we traded places, walking the halls of the hospital or putting the rest of our children to bed at home, we found we could keep putting one foot in front of the other. We could. We did.
And the funniest thing happened, just two nights before our sweet Blake came home.
Our sweet six year old, Arabella, had a clementine (a “Cutie”) from the fridge in the afternoon, and afterwards told me, “It was squishy and tasted funny.” Having spent 46 days traveling back and forth to the hospital, I really had no idea how long those little orange balls of goodness had graced our fridge, so I suggested she perhaps not eat a Cutie if it tastes funny or feels squishy next time.
Around midnight, the Cutie made a not-so-cute reappearance, all over her bed, and the three dozen stuffed animals she sleeps who are her nighttime companions.
Six years, ago, the hubs was on a trip, out of town, and I was home with two little fellas, when one of them decided his dinner didn’t agree with him, and made its way to the carpet and bed and floor.
While he sat in the tub and a dear friend visiting sat with his baby brother, I scrubbed the carpet and found myself praying these three words, through tears: Teach Me, Jesus.
Yes, I sat and cried over the spaghetti and juicy juice, feeling sorry for myself that the Hubs was out of town and I was cleaning up vomit.
Fast forward six years, loads more parenting, and a fast track to steadfastness, also known as kid-in-the-ICU. Once again, the vomit is here and the hubs is not. I follow the girl who’s been sick in her bed back up to her room, settle her into bed in another room, remove sheets, throw those sheets and three dozen stuffed animals into the washer and hope for the best, and laugh as I scrub her mattress.
This too will pass. I am okay. It will be okay.
The next morning, I had to delight in conversation with the Creator, remembering my tears and my Teach Me, Jesus moment. Maybe I am learning!
I wrote, “Six years later, I got up, worked to solve the problem and didn’t let self-pity overcome me. Maybe just MAYBE, thanks to Your goodness, I have more steadfastness now than I did before. This trial has birthed good things.”
I can’t tell you exactly how many times I’ve read the Bible, but I can tell you I’ve been through it again and again from Genesis to Revelation, slowly and carefully, a few chapters at a time.
And I have yet to find a mistake.
Those words in the Emergency Room, the careful cursive on that post it note? It was Truth I had to live to understand.
Yes, we endured this trial with a kid in the hospital and life on hold and fear on our shoulder every waking moment. But also? We found this crazy joy. We found out what it feels like to have a whole community wrap you up in their arms. With meals and gifts and care and love. With prayers that wrap up you and your whole family. With blankets of prayer that you can literally cover you with prayers from head to toe.
With watching your eight-year-old walk up a flight of stairs, and witnessing a miracle.
It was true after all — when we met this trial God had joy in mind. And He cultivated a steadfastness, proven in midnight hours with sick kids. Proven in hard places when the enemy whispers fears that rattle the soul.
Don’t make it a hobby alongside gardening or surfing or decoupage.
Let it be the treasure that you hide in your heart. Let it speak to every part of your story, from struggle to triumph and back again. It won’t return void. It won’t lie.
God’s Word is the Book you can read forever, and you will always, only ever find truth. Search it and hold onto it and find it, friends. When things fall apart, it will hold you together.
xCC
I hope you’re encouraged today, friend. If so, I’d love to welcome you to subscribe here for a weekly dose of encouragement.
***
Update on Blake:
What a joy to say it is to say our Blake came through last week’s CTA and arteriogram and Gamma Radiation very well. On Saturday it was hard to believe he’d had such significant procedures done just the day before. He radiates joy, is cuddly and loving, and is just such a precious gift to our family. We are so grateful.
We would be grateful for your prayers — his AVM still poses a potential risk of re-bleed until it is obliterated, and the Gamma Radiation will take time to do just that. Please pray his AVM would disappear very quickly and there would be no complications on the road to its disappearance. An MRI in about 12 months will let us know how that process is going, but it could take two to two and a half years. While Blake is improving leaps and bounds physically (he basically just has the slightest deficit in his left hand and a bit of a limp), he is otherwise doing so incredibly well and continues to amaze us. However, his vision is an issue as he continues to seem to see nothing on the left side of his field of vision. We will visit a neuro-ophthalmologist on November 20th and hope some progress will begin then, if not sooner. His short term memory also needs a great deal of strengthening, and we continue with exercise and prayer to trust that, like a muscle, it will return to full strength with time. We’d be grateful if you’d pray for Blake about these things — his AVM, his vision and his short term memory.
Thank you for your prayers and support. And PLEASE if you are nearby and would like to join us, we would LOVE to have you at our celebration on November 23rd at 3:30 pm in downtown Washington at Festival Park, where we will Raise a Hallelujah of thanksgiving and praise to God for what He has done for us. And perhaps enjoy some fun together and watch the sun set on the Pamlico! Please join us!
Nov 6, 2019 | The Good Word
I scurried across the room during our homeschool community’s morning assembly at the request of the sweet lady in the doorway. One of those ladies who knew my Mama by her maiden name, bearing a gift for Blake. We chatted for a few minutes and she talked about how she’d been praying for Blake:
“I think I’ve told you before, I like to pray, ‘Lord, Your will be done, but let me tell you how you need to do it.'”
We giggled together at that.
I returned to the meeting with the bright and thoughtful package, and some food for thought at the same time.
One evening while Blake was in the hospital, I was praying and asking the Lord to help me rest in Him, and follow Him, and walk with Him as Blake’s journey continued. And I was so struck by a thought, I had to scribble it down immediately, where I found it in my prayer journal this evening.
If one of Your followers tried to walk ahead of You, he would no longer be ‘following’ and would not know the way to go. Let me be covered with the dust of Your feet as You lead me, Rabbi Jesus.
We love to go for walks and hikes with our children, and the Hero Hubs and I are often frustrated by their desire to run ahead and lead the way… when they have no idea where they are going.
Skipping and picking up pine cones and stopping to examine interesting artifacts, I often wonder where they might lead us if we decided to let them just go ahead and blaze the trail. We frequently have to reel them back in, and Mark often makes the declaration: Walk beside me or behind me, please!
And yet I imagine we so frequently want to blaze a trail ahead of Jesus. I picture an eager disciple on a dusty road from one village to another, lifting his tunic a bit to stride on ahead and prepare the way, only to discover Jesus headed in a different direction and he will have to backtrack and catch up.
The momentum of our sweet boy’s recovery has been incredible, and we are eager to do our part to keep things moving. But there is a difference between walking alongside the Rabbi — where you are close enough to hear Him teach — and forging ahead of the Rabbi, hoping you’re plowing your way forward in the direction He intended to go.
So if we can’t make this therapy session or that appointment happen with a phone call or five, perhaps we need to make sure we are not trying to run ahead of the pace, and we must trust that the Author of Blake’s healing, and Blake’s story, has this in His hands, too.
Lord, show us, your sometimes over-eager children, how to be faithful.
How is it in your life right now, friend? Are you perhaps unwittingly praying some “Your will be done, but here’s how You need to do it” prayers?
Soak in these words again for a moment:
Trust in the Lord, and do good;
Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness.
Delight yourself also in the Lord,
And He shall give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the Lord,
Trust also in Him,
And He shall bring it to pass.
He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light,
And your justice as the noonday. {Psalm 37:3-6}
Trust requires relinquishing control. Committing your way to Him means You’ll follow Him down the trail.
We’ve enjoyed some long walks by still waters, and we’ve endured some steep climbs and tough trails together. But we’ve led our kids to places where they’ve seen waterfalls and sunsets and beauty they would never have seen if they weren’t willing to follow us on the trail.
God can do beautiful things. Trust in the Lord. They take place in His beautiful timing. He can bring it to pass.
The best choice you can make is always?
Follow.
xCC
I hope you’re encouraged today, friend. If so, I’d love to welcome you to subscribe here for a weekly dose of encouragement.
***
Update on Blake:
We hope and pray that this Friday will mark the end of a season of adventures at Vidant Medical Center for Blake. He is scheduled for a CT Scan (to reexamine the state of his AVM) and an arteriogram (to get imagery of the AVM’s exact status and location) and possibly, if necessary, he will also have Gamma Knife Radiation to “zap” the AVM away. {If you need a reminder, “AVM” is an arteriovenous malformation — the little cluster of vessels in his brain that were formed improperly and caused the aneurism on September 1st.} If the AVM has completely disappeared (which is what we are praying!) the Gamma Radiation will not be necessary.
Blake is doing incredibly well at home. He is enjoying his siblings and able to play with them inside and outside. His balance continues to improve and going up OR down stairs seems to be just about “no sweat” for him. His left arm and hand aren’t 100% yet, but we continue to see such wonderful improvements we feel so sure they will recover completely! He is not sleeping particularly well, but we are seeing improvement in that regard. Our main concerns at the moment are his vision issues and his short term memory loss. We continue to pray and hope we can do our part to help him recover. He is a laughing, giggling, joking, reading, walking, talking, jumping, running miracle!
Please pray for our sweet boy’s 100% recovery! We look forward to sharing the good news of his progress again next week! And please mark your calendar for November 23rd. We plan to Raise a Hallelujah in downtown Washington that afternoon to give thanks for God’s goodness to our family! Please join us!
Oct 30, 2019 | The Good Word
As he held onto a little clicker, I watched the flashing lights and I could see from across the room that he was completely missing what was right in front of him. We thought our sweet boy, roughly eight weeks post major brain aneurism, was having trouble seeing, and this fun little test at the optometrist’s office was confirming it right in front of me.
Outside this weekend with his Daddy in the backyard, I found him in tears because he’d walked into the little toddler basketball hoop he and his brother used to play with. He just plain didn’t see it.
He was skipping the first few words on a page. Missing the food on the left side of his plate. Turning his head to try to see things at a distance. The brain is a marvelously miraculous but incredibly funny thing. It will somehow fill in the gaps until you truly don’t know what you’re missing.
Blake’s blind spots have meant he can’t see the turtle walking by out the window, only six feet away. They’ve also meant he has walked into a few door frames. And every time, he is startled and surprised: he still really doesn’t know he’s missing anything.
His blind spots have made me start wondering what blind spots I might have in my own life. Yeah, I think I still have 20/20 vision, but how well is my soul seeing?
Am I aware of the pride I struggle with — because all of us humans have pride that shows up in different ways? It’s at the root of every sin and around the corner at every turn. Because we think we know better, right? What pride hiding in my blind spot?
And…What else might be there? Am I allowing fear to direct my steps instead of faith? Am I going to shadow this second son of mine into his twenties, or gradually, carefully learn to let go again because I trust that God brought him through this and His plan is better than mine?
I imagine sometimes we have to walk into our own walls to realize we are missing something. When we bump into something that hurts or challenges us, we have an opportunity to realize we need to tilt our head a different way, maybe even pause and squint, and see something we’ve been missing. What could God be showing us?
What don’t we realize about us… or Him… that we really need to know?
Prayer is a beautiful place for blind spots to become places where we see more clearly. Digging deep into Scripture and reflecting on what God might want to say to you? Might turn a blind spot into a spot where you’re seeing in 8K — the superior quality, see the speck on the speck kind of resolution we probably need to help us realize 1) how much we don’t see and how sinful we truly are and 2) how gloriously full-color incredibly beautiful God’s Love is for you and me anyway.
One beautiful technicolor promise of God is that the Truth brings freedom—indeed Jesus said Truth could quite literally set you free. So I’d love to encourage you today to fearlessly press forward in faith and ask, “What blind spot would you like me to see today, Lord?”
I imagine having Him gently and graciously letting you see what you’re missing will be so much better than walking straight into the little basketball hoop in your backyard.
xCC
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I hope you’re encouraged today, friend. If you’re new to this little corner of the web (or not) I’d love to welcome you to subscribe here for a weekly dose of encouragement.
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The Latest on Blake
We are AMAZED at how well Blake is doing! His left arm and hand are constantly improving, closer and closer to seeming like there was never an issue! He is walking without assistance, running and even jumping with so little struggle. Taking stairs going up like a champ, and improving daily on the strength to come down without much concern. His short term memory is an area of concern we continue to pray for: it is hard for him to remember he has just said something or done something, and I think that leaves us all frustrated at time. We are doing best to encourage and strengthen this ‘muscle’ in different ways, and we are seeing encouraging improvement.
Blake will have what will, we pray, be the final procedure related to this AVM for a very long time — perhaps ever — soon. On November 8th, he’ll have a CTA scan, follow by an angiogram, and — only if necessary — that will be followed by Gamma Knife Radiation treatment. We pray that last step will not be necessary, and also give thanks that, either way, at the end of the day he will NOT be spending another night in the hospital but will get to come home to us when the procedures are all through.
We have confirmed our concerns about Blake’s vision with an optometrist and he is not seeing, in fact very much missing, so much in his left field of vision. We pray that as his brain continues to heal and all swelling reduces this will no longer be an issue, but we are also going to follow up with a neuro-opthalmologist to find out what steps might be necessary to help this specific part of Blake’s recovery.
And last piece of news, but by far the most amazing — after repeatedly being told we were not likely to be eligible for Medicaid, Blake has been assigned Medicaid coverage effective September 1st — meaning his medical bills are completely covered. We are flabbergasted, and just so extremely grateful. God has provided for our family in every way possible and worked things together for good in ways we could never have foreseen when everything was just so hard and scary on the first of September! We have contacted GoFundMe to begin sending refunds to the generous friends who wanted to bless us in this trial, and have been overwhelmed with friends telling us not to refund them, knowing Mark was not working and we have expenses ahead as the therapy and recovery process continues.
We plan to Raise a Hallelujah in downtown Washington to celebrate what God has done on November 23rd and would love to welcome you to join us. Details to follow… Thank you for your prayers, your love, your support and encouragement… God is worthy of more Hallelujahs than we could ever give, and we are so grateful.
Oct 23, 2019 | The Good Word
If I had to describe the past 52 days, I might use a word like hurricane.
If I had to describe the past three days, I would probably liken it to holding your breath for as long as you possibly can, and then coming up for air at the last moment possible.
Air is filling our lungs and we are breathing again — glorious good air, air full of hope and joy fills our lungs — but we are also probably exhausted.
There’s a hard thing I’ve observed about life. And it’s that I do the most learning when things are hard. I do the most growing when I’m being stretched. It’s as if maybe the strongest trees are the ones that get started in adverse conditions and have to push through hard dirt, or drought. And maybe they also learn to intertwine their roots with the trees around them, because they know somehow they’ll be stronger if they stand together and grow together.
Our precious eight-year-old son is home after 48 days in the hospital. We’ve been eating meals as a family. We’ve been cuddling on the couch and reading books again. We’re in the early stages of figuring out a temporary new normal as we watch our boy progress day-by-day and it is nothing short of glorious to behold. To think just a few short weeks ago we really weren’t sure who would wake up — and what he would remember, what he would be capable of, how his future might be severely limited — and instead to find it seems there are no limitations. No boundaries. No ‘no’s’ or ‘impossibles’ even being whispered.
Instead we are experiencing what we fought tooth and nail to believe all along: With God, nothing is impossible.
Jesus looked at them and said,
“With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.”
{Matt. 19:26}
We don’t know exactly where our story is going. We don’t know how God is going to author the chapters yet to come. We have already seen the beauty of knowing that so many people have been encouraged out of this journey, and that is a gift we are incredibly grateful for.
Today we watched the video of a precious seven-year-old that wanted to send $11 to help with Blake’s medical bills. I am confident in the kingdom of heaven, that is the very biggest gift we have ever received.
We are fully confident our precious Blake is moving toward 100%, and he will get there. We are fully confident God will provide with exceeding abundance for our family and those medical bills. We will get there.
And all of life, all of our existence as fragile, amazing human beings on planet Earth? Is exactly this — we live in the already, and we live in the not yet.
Christ has already died for us. We are already forgiven. We are already blessed, redeemed, chosen. But we are not yet who we will become when we are fully, face-to-face with our Creator, the heavenly creatures He intended when He first dreamed of you or me at the beginning of eternity.
Already, Blake is so very healed. But in some small ways, not yet. And in truth — even our beautiful eight-year-old is going to live his own precious life and grow old and his days will come to an end. He is not yet the glorified creature he was created to be.
The best is yet to come!
How do we settle into this already and not yet way of living? It reminds me of being at the beach and letting your feet sink into the sand as the water washes over you again and again. You stand for a while. You soak in the sun, the cool of the water, the splash of children nearby, the good salty air that fills your lungs. You let gratitude be what you feel and breathe more than anything else.
And then, you wriggle those feet out of the sand, and you keep going. You keep going because not yet. You keep going because you are still here for a reason and there is still so much for you to live. There are even more storms for you to weather. You will learn more. You will grow more. It will be hard and it will be beautiful.
And you’ll return to sink your feet into the sand again. You’ll stop and smell those roses and give thanks. And then you’ll start walking again.
Set your compass in the direction of faithfulness and you will not get off course. Can you really live a faithful life? Can you really do it all for the glory of God?
Well, with man, this is impossible. But? With God, all things are possible.
xCC
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I hope you’re encouraged today, friend. If you’re visiting this site for the first time, I’d love to welcome you to subscribe here for a weekly dose of encouragement.
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Thank you for your prayers for our precious Blake! He is adjusting so well to life at home. Sleeping better. Making great progress. We are watching him do something new with his left hand every day! He is more and more steady on his feet every day. He is more lucid, more himself, more sure of himself all the time. We’d love to ask you to pray for his full healing, his vision, his headaches and tummy aches, the further treatments that may be necessary (that we pray will not be necessary!) and for the Lord’s hand on our family as we continue to navigate this journey together. We have so many hallelujahs to raise! God has been so good to us! We want to live this story with faithfulness.
You can get regular updates on Blake at With Love, From Here on Facebook or on our GoFundMe page. And if you’re looking for an awesome new t-shirt, I think there’s about a week left on our t-shirt Fundraiser right here. Please keep lifting up our family, and please Raise a Hallelujah to the God who is so worthy — He has done such great things for us!!
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