The Ugly Spider Plant

I have this spider plant that sits atop our tub looking out our unfinished window in our partially finished bathroom. He’s here because he seems to fit with all the other things screaming to be completed, begging for any kind of attention.

I’m embarrassed of him as he sits in his orange pot. His ugliness makes me ignore him most days, his shoots dying too easily or growing completely out of control.  Sometimes I hope the sun will burn him beyond repair or that I’ll forget to pour that life giving water at him.

I look at him and cringe.  I look at him and contemplate just pulling him out of that dark soil only to dump him in the trashcan.  No one would miss him. No one would even know.

Still, something inside me makes me stop and I pick him up time after time, the water filling him with breath, life; his roots sucking to produce that natural green shade again.  Once in a while he even gives me flowers to look at.

Lately, every time I see him, I see myself.  This misfit of a plant with crusty leaves, an ugly pot and seemingly no purpose, is me.  My attitude and biting words towards those I love most are those brown and crispy leaves. My desire for the time I feel I deserve as a mom, a wife, blocks my true purpose in life and I’m left sitting in an ugly orange pot. No flowers to show. Nothing worth even looking at.

But, Someone keeps showing up to water me. For some reason, I haven’t ended up in the trashcan. Not yet anyway. This water I get is just enough to fill my heart, my mind, my body with reason, truth and a desire to see it all to the end.

I may be sitting atop a tub. I may get scorched some days by the sun. I may even have more brown leaves than green.  But I’m still here.  I am truly and deeply loved and in return, I may even get some flowers to show for it all.

 

Spring is just starting to make her appearance here in the Adirondack Park and with all the new buds and growth come new buds and growth in my own life.

NO I’m NOT pregnant!

I’m selfishly going to ride my horse this summer and enjoy the 3 crazy kids I already have!

You may have noticed the page you are on has changed some. Please know that it’s still me. Still our story. I’ve only updated it to fit our life and where it’s at right now. I hope you like it and will poke around some to see what’s in store.

Please pray with me as I ready to embark on something I know the Lord has planned out perfectly, I just don’t know any of the outcome or details. All I have some days is my faith and trust in Him.  But even that I can’t count as my own.

New life is here.  It chirps and warms my soul!

Thank you for your faithfulness in journeying with me in this crazy ride I’m on!

 

The Doggie Door

I’m a dog person.

No.

I’m actually an animal person.

Some see work, money for food, vet bills, lots of responsibility.

But I see something needing love, time, a purpose for their life.  After all, it’s what the Lord asked of me—to look after, to care for.

We have this doggie door.  It’s one Graham made years ago so our dogs could enter the basement whenever they want.  They have beds down there.  They have warmth. They have security, somewhere to call home.  They have free reign to the outside world where they can dig and kill chipmunks and eat horse manure to their heart’s content.  It’s a grand life, one most don’t have.

Still, at nighttime when the sun dips low and the sky grows dark I call them in.  Down they go onto their beds, a rawhide tucked neatly into their jowls to chew and grind—sleep right around the corner.  Another day of walks and adventures wait for tomorrow.

As I say goodnight, ready to lock up, clip that little doggie door so no midnight escapades take place, I get a bit of a sick feeling.

It’s silly really, this feeling I have.

Part of me doesn’t want to lock them in. In fact, many nights I’m guilty of leaving it unlocked.  Just in case.

In case of what?

In case He comes. For me. For my family. The sound of trumpets and Jesus and twinkling eyes.

I want them to be able to get out. To run free. Find food. Survive.

While I giggle and grow red at my silly ways and thinking, part of me knows this is how the Lord made my heart. My eternal heart. I can’t help but think and wonder, when Lord? How Lord? How much longer Lord?

I sigh and think of those suffering. Really suffering. Those being persecuted for their beliefs. Those hurting and sad and continuously drug through this wringer called life.

Sometimes it’s my own suffering that makes me shudder. A life I once knew has been altered. Taken down a path that I wouldn’t have thought it could go. One with a husband whose memory is worse than my young kids, a person confused a lot and mostly unable to live outside the present. I oftentimes groan under the pressure, the sadness of missing parts of him still.

But lately it’s been that doggie door bringing me to a place where I’m reminded of my real home. The one with Jesus and that most amazing home He built.  For me.  For us.

Sometimes at night as I’m reaching for the door, yelling for the dogs to come out of the woods, dirt smeared on paws and noses, I smile. I smile with excitement. Anticipation. Readiness.

I tug on scrappy ears and rub one last time before morning. But just in case I’m not around come morning, I leave the clip dangling.

I leave it unlocked.

Just in case.

 

Update on us 2/21/13

I don’t ever want to forget.

Not ever.

I don’t mean the mess, the scary unknown, the waiting, the machines, the bad news.

No.

If only I could forget that part.

What I’m afraid of forgetting is how the Lord healed Graham.  However He did it, whatever He said or thought; He did perform a miracle in my husband.  I saw it with my own eyes.  I witnessed it everyday for weeks.  Months.  I had a front row seat to it all.

And yet, I’m guilty of getting used to it.  Shrugging it off as normal.  Usual.

I am guilty of forgetting.

We read and re-read all the miracles that are recorded in His word.  We listen as preachers preach about them.  Again.  And again.  And again.  We continue to smile each time Jesus turns water to wine.  We picture it in our minds and hearts, our imaginations all a bit different, unique.  We even wish we could’ve seen it for ourselves, firsthand.

Good for the guy filled with demons, his soul tormented relentlessly, his body naked and scarred from their abuse.  Great for the girl who didn’t stay dead, her lungs filling back up with breath and life. Tears from her parent’s must’ve drenched her hair and clothes while they clung to their miracle, happy for more time with her.  They were grateful.  Thankful.

It touches a lot closer to our hearts when it’s one of our own.  Things change when it’s your husband.  Your mother.  Father. Child.  You won’t forget that as easily.  It sticks a little harder.  A little longer.

Still, do you ever think of those touched by Jesus, those healed?  After a time did they forget how unique it all was?  How unusual?  How extraordinary?

Probably.

Maybe it was the friend of the blind one.  The wife of the leper.  The nephew of the cripple who one day wasn’t so thankful, who one day stopped remembering the importance of it all.

I sometimes watch Graham.  Secretly, quietly, when he hasn’t a clue.  I stand over him just gazing while he sleeps, exhausted from his day, too tired to continue on anymore.  Other times it’s when he’s being a dad, playing with the kids, sitting on their level, making eye contact with them and asking them silly questions.

He was holding Fallon the other day when I chose to watch them, her little body easy for him to carry because she’s sturdier now and loves it when her dad reaches for her.  Her pointer-finger instantly goes to her mouth while the other hand forms a fast grip onto his ear.  He started slow dancing with her, circling round and round. While he doesn’t quite possess the same smooth movements he once did, she’ll never know.  She’ll never question.  She’ll never know the difference.

The realization hit me all over again of all the Lord has done in Graham.  My eyes instantly filled.  Tears of thankfulness, remembrance and humility threatened to spill over.

He once wasn’t even able to stand up, let alone sway to some unheard imaginary song in his head.  They were smiling; her grin filled with those few teeth, ones that like to clamp hard on anything brave enough to enter.

I felt overwhelmed by my prior selfish and earthly desires.  I had been caught red handed in apathy and indifference to exactly what the Lord did for me.

And not in just healing Graham, giving his life back for me to enjoy and have a few more days with on this planet.

It was more than that.  It’s so much more.

Don’t forget what the Lord has done, what He continues to do.  In your life.  In mine.  In your church, school, town.

He continues to work.  He continues to perform miracles.  Even now.  Even still.

Choose to see them.  Choose to remember them.  Choose to believe them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Update on us 2/7/13

I love my Master.  I will not go free.

It’s what I’m proclaiming today, this day that I finally get some time to post an update.  It’s as the kids are scrambling here then there and I scramble eggs, butter toast and keep the 9 month old from walking into her death.

I will not go free.

I refuse to sit on this shelf of complacency, collecting dust like one of Wyatt’s old toys.  I’ve been through too much.  Come too far.  We both have.

Yet, what I think should happen, or be, or come to fruition, is sometimes not what the Master thinks is best.  And let’s be honest, at times we think we have Him figured out.  His plan, His will, something to work for our benefit, our desires.  Shouldn’t I get to hold the reins once in a while?

How could He want anything different?

Oh, but He does.

It’s His plans that are much more thought through, planned out than our own.  I just have to trust Him.  Take that step.  Make that decision.  Follow His lead in my life.

It sounds easy.  So, why is it so hard for me?  Why do I cry over things I think are gone forever?  Things that I must grieve or give up?

It’s my selfishness.   My pride.  What I think I deserve that make my blood boil, my tears spill, my heart sink.  And if I stay here in this awful place of self-pity, I will only ever be able to do one thing, the thing I hate most.

Collect dust.

In His grace alone, His mercies never-ending like the steady flow of our brook behind our home, I am covered.  I am satisfied.  I am everything I need to be for Him.  And I am blessed.

Miracle of the day:

Blessings come in all shapes and sizes.  Some big.  Some small.  This one came at the perfect time for Graham and me.  All this talk of trusting and walking in faith, putting our family first for a season, made us stop to shake our heads in awe.  We were blown away at the Lord’s timing.

Our eldest son, Wyatt, having just turned 5 in January, asked His Lord and Savior to rule over his heart, his life.

It was an amazing thing to be a part of.  The ritual of nightly devotions finally took a more serious turn and we all found ourselves on our knees, crying and listening to one of the most heart-felt prayers we’d heard in a while. It was precious.  It was real.  And the angels rejoiced.

The Holy Spirit entered my son that night and watching him these last days has made my jaw drop in the reality of His work in someone so small.  My prayer now is for him to grow, stay this sensitive and move mountains with his faith.

Graham continues to do well.  Another mighty miracle in his life is a recent eye appointment revealing a significant move in degrees of his left eye.  The images are still doubled and probably always will be, but it’s better than it was.  He’s back in glasses, which help push it all back together even more.

He’s a trooper.  Never complains and continues to accept his limitations in stride.

Humor of the day:

I once again forgot about poor Graham over the holidays and before I knew it he was down 10 pounds.  If I don’t keep up on his eating habits, he forgets (he still can’t feel when he’s hungry or full) and the weight melts like the chocolate I seemed to have downed in between all the parties and presents.  Go figure!

Thank you for your continued support!

Update on the book:  I am just about done with this beast and look forward to sharing it with you all.  The Lord has taken me on quite the journey, teaching me much more than I thought possible about patience and His timing!  Whatever happens….happens, and for me to be able to finally say that…is HUGE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Update on us 11/28/12

It’s probably one of the most important pieces of Christmas traditions you pull from the attic.  As a kid it was this cardboard box, worn and about to cave in.  We’d open it and pull each piece out, careful to unwrap and not break anything.  There was a shepherd.  A wise man.  Mary was there with Joseph too.  Some sheep.  A donkey and cattle.  But the one I got most excited about was that porcelain manger and that little baby.  I loved to set baby Jesus carefully in that manger and while He never looked very comfortable there, I knew that was where He belonged.  I’d set and re-set all the other pieces, lining them up just right.  Each one had a purpose.  A reason to be there.  They couldn’t help it, they were drawn to that manger holding their Savior.

Several years ago when we started having children my mother bought our kids their own Nativity set.  A plastic one with every piece.  The boys can bang them and be as rough as they want; I know they can’t break them.  And just like me, they enjoyed setting and re-setting the scene.  The scene of the birth of Christ.

I pulled it out yesterday, excited to let them play and re-enact.  There they were, the camel.  The stable.  Even the manger.  But, there was no baby Jesus.  The angels clambered for their positions of praise, but the King was nowhere to be found.  It made me sad.  How could I pack this and not put the most important piece away?  How could I forget?

I searched the house.  Every toy container, every couch cushion.  Every corner.  No baby Jesus.   The boys played for a while with the set.  But, even they could tell it was not complete.  Something was missing.  They quickly grew tired of it and kept asking where that ‘small baby was.’  The one wrapped with cloth.

“Where are His arms Mom?”

Maybe I was being overly sensitive.  But I wanted to cry.  I couldn’t believe I could be so careless.  The meaning of my simple thoughtlessness struck me hard.  Right between the eyes.

While I pack and unpack lights and trees, bulbs and stars.  Angels and snowmen, signs and stockings.  I am reminded once again what Christmas is all about.  As adults we know the answers.  We know it’s about Him.  His birth.  His Divine intervention to save this world.  But, do we really remember ALL the time?  Like we should?  Aren’t we guilty of forgetting?  Forgetting about Him.  Forgetting to wrap Him carefully with the most precious of packing materials?

It’s when we forget Him, we lose sight of Him.  I knew He was in my house somewhere.  Probably under the stove, or the refrigerator.  But, I couldn’t see Him.  And all I wanted was to see Him again.

I had to give up looking.  But my heart prayed all day to find Him.

It was at the end of the day.  That time when I am most tired.  The kids the most fussy.  I was moving our small loveseat positioned alongside some stairs to get ready for our tree, when I spotted something.

There on the edge of the step lay the baby Jesus.  He must have fallen and wedged Himself behind the couch and stairs.  I never would have seen Him if I didn’t pull the couch away from the wall.

I yelled with excitement to the boys.  “He’s HERE!”

Running little feet with dirty hands picked him up carefully.  The set was finally whole. The Nativity scene as it should be.  And now it made sense.  Now it was complete!

And yes, He’s HERE!  Even when we forget.  Even when we’re careless.  He’s HERE!

Humor of the day:

My middle child.  My second boy.  The one most full of personality, helped himself to the bathroom in Wal-mart the other day.  The only problem?  It was right in the middle of the aisle with all the toys.  And no…there was no pull-up on him.  No diaper.

Miracle of the day:

Graham is doing awesome!  He is one determined guy.  Botox will most likely be a life-long thing for him seeing his arm completely cramps up in about 3 months after an injection.  The cramping is very painful for him, but he refuses to complain.  His attitude is unbelievable.  His love for His Lord and Savior is tried and has come out true.

We truly are happy in our ‘new-normal.’  We’ve been laughing lots at these kids, but mostly ourselves, which has been really good for us.  He continues to get back more of his personality.  He was always really funny before.  He could always make me laugh with his quick wit and remarks.  I am thankful I am experiencing that once again with him!

I am crazy about these two!!

Graham’s family came for Thanksgiving!  I am SO thankful for this godly couple in my life.  They truly are family to me!

Mimi, Pawpa, the kids, and Uncle Tommy!!  We had such a great week!

Thanks for the prayers, love and continued support!  You all mean so much to us!

 

 

 

 

Update on us 10/28/12

With or without this brain injury we’re in a busy boat of life right now.  The resulting affects of Graham’s limitations are only a small part of the craziness that’s happening in this home!

It’s really the children.  The offspring.  The brood.  Litter.  Whatever you want to call them.  They’re the consuming ones, draining and stretching us as we train and train. And train some more.

I am thankful I have a partner in this.  Someone there faithfully every day supporting me, helping me and enforcing those things I’ve tried all day to instill.  It gets even better when I remember Jesus is here too during my sometimes very long days.

Still, it gets the better of me at times!  My attitude, the words that pour from my mouth are embarrassing to admit.  I used to think I was a patient person.  The kind that never get frazzled.  Or annoyed.  Or mad.

But sadly, sometimes I am all of those things at once!

It’s in these times I have to remember how faithful the Lord has been to me.  How I have a decision to make each and everyday to enjoy this ‘mom thing,’ to realize how short a season it truly is.  And remember also to laugh at these kids, Graham and myself as much as possible.

So, while I deal with attitudes and lying and diapers and the residual side-effects of a brain injury in our home, my heart smiles at the opportunity, the blessing it all really is!

Graham is doing well.  Really, truly well.  He still has issues.  He still struggles and hurts and gets tired most of the time.  And we still have things to work through together; decisions to make with doors staring us down as we pray for them to either open or quietly shut.

But, his attitude is unmatched, the love for his Savior tried and true, his wisdom and discernment unbelievable.

Graham and I know we will not be placed high on a shelf, collecting dust.  We are choosing to continue to trust in His ultimate plan.  Whatever that is.  And in the meantime I would ask for your patience as I continue to work on a book I’m writing about life and horses and Graham’s injury.  I promise it will be worth the wait.  It’s been another reason why I haven’t blogged as much.  My free time is spent working on it.  And I will be excited for the day when it is finally finished.  That day, my friends, is coming soon!

Miracle of the day:

Here is a video of Graham on the drums.  When he first came home he could barely hold the left stick, let alone play anything.  And while he’s not what he used to be….he’s learning and not all that bad.

Humor of the day:

Go ahead, you can laugh.  We are!  Believe it or not, this purchase has nothing to do the fact that we’ve had a brain injury in our home.  This girl is just too busy, trying to stand and walk and climb stairs.  My hard floors are causing many tears and bruises.  And I can only keep her penned for so long.  She’s a girl on the move!

This will definitely not be a picture she will thank me one day for taking!

Update on us 8/20/12

I know I can’t be the only one who wonders when ‘that next bad thing’ will happen again.  Sadly, I think this is normal.  We are human.  We naturally struggle with trust.  With our faith.

My daily vision of this miracle in my husband, his life, his breath, still has me doubting at times.  I am guilty of not trusting the very One who healed and answered not only my prayers, but those of many others.   I catch myself trying to plan and control those parts of my life, my children’s lives.  Like He needs my help and won’t do a good enough job.

I have no rights in any of the planning and as I know first-hand: absolutely no control.

This reminder should make me happy.  It should take all the worry and fret away and I should rest easy.  Thus, I should pleasantly place all that I hold dear into His hands.

But, let’s be honest.  We all fear that phone call.  We all think about the what-ifs, the harder times in life.  How we would deal.  I’ve had the nauseous feeling in parts of my stomach, the kind you fight so hard to keep down.  That sinking feeling of despair was at one time, a close friend.

Even though ‘our story’ seems to play a happy ending, I sure don’t want to be the first to sign up for something like that again.  No thanks.

But, I’m afraid the Lord is going to ask me again.  My family again.

It’s sometimes a daily struggle for me to place my kid’s, my husband, my other family, in His hands.  That He has their best interests in mind.  That He’s going to keep them safe.

I never used to struggle with this.  But, now I do.  I don’t like living in this fear.  It’s hard for me when I’ve seen so closely how fragile life is, how quickly it can change.  And what if He does want us to walk a road I’m not particularly fond of?  What happens then?  What happens when the story doesn’t end with miracles?  Would my faith survive that as well?

It’s been two years for us.  Two years.

Somehow everything still revolves around pre-accident and post-accident.  And I’m not sure that will change.  Every time I see his scars, I am reminded.  Every time I see him struggle getting dressed, or tie his shoes, I am reminded.  Every time he almost trips and falls, and sometimes does come crashing down the stairs, I am reminded.

All of that pales in comparison to when I look at his daughter.  The one he shouldn’t have had.  It’s in those quiet times I have with her that I am reminded yet again.  And that reminder is pretty huge:  life is a gift, both this life on earth and the one I get to have with Jesus one day very soon.  I truly have nothing to worry about!

Miracle of the day:

For a brief moment (mere seconds) Graham saw SINGLE objects!!  It came and went so quickly, but he did in fact see just one, rather than two.  This hasn’t happened since before his accident and he was amazed….his exact words to me were… “I had forgotten what it was like to see like that.”  He is back to seeing two, but I’m hoping it continues.  He is too!

Humor of the day:

I am knee deep here in diapers, laundry, wiping up crumbs, feedings, oh and lots and lots of this stuff!!!!

     She JUST missed the burp cloth too!!! (Go figure)

                                                                                        I wouldn’t trade it for the world!

thank you for joining in this journey with us.