God is GOOD. Period

Good afternoon!!


I came across a blog post today from Sarah Beth Gulke's sister, Christa. She's on the left, Sarah is on the right.

I wept when I read it and as  Dr. John Piper would say  "God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him". Christa and Sarah are part of a late teens/twenty something's group my older kids started. They grapple with hard questions in life, not just lame dating drama.
Questions like, "Why did my Dad die when I was a kid?"
"Why did my Mom goes through such a long time of suffering and we had to work so hard to take care of each other instead of her doing it?"
"Why is my sister still in pain after years of praying for healing?"

These questions will be asked at some point in life but these young people have chewed on them sooner than they'd have cared to do but are better people for it. 
In Genesis, Joseph suffered for 13 years at the hands of his hateful brothers, false accusations and betrayal. But in the end, he said, 

Genesis 50:20New International Version (NIV)

20 You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.

We can't get too short sighted this side of Heaven. Some stuff will be resolved on earth and other things, we're not going to have an answer for until after we've died and met God face to face.

During my long extended illness, I argued hard with God. One doesn’t usually win those battles as God doesn’t do focus groups. Because He’s infinitely patient with people like me, the greatest thing I’ve learned and come to appreciate in all of my suffering is that God is GOOD, period. Not because I will ever be able to work outside the home again. Not because my mortgage will be paid off in my lifetime. Not because He answers my prayers the way I request. 

He is GOOD. And that is that. 

For too long, I used to say, “Oh my, God has so blessed me because of His provision for our needs in this way or that.”

This was true, but way too conditional and fragile. What happened to my faith in a God who sees and cares when He did not act in accordance to my will??  I was able, because God truly loves me, to have my faith shaken to the core. All the props were taken out and I was left bedridden, useless, a huge financial, emotional, physical and mental drain. My life appeared worthless and I was hopeful God would at least answer my prayer to let me die already.

He did not. 

Instead He gave my husband, and children the grace to deal day by day with the uncertainty of my recovery. They continued to care for me, not knowing if I was going to live or die. My life was not valuable to them, or to God, because I was contributing. I’ve always said I’m pro life, but this conviction was sorely tested when it came to my own. I found myself way more conditional when it came to my value than I ever had been with the babies I’d cared for as a nurse.

When a good measure of my health was restored after being at Sanoviv Medical Institute in May of 2012, I was relieved on the one hand but still devastated on the other. Surgeries to alleviate a collapsed bowel wrecked irreparably my ability to be employed outside the home.

I spent the summer weeping and praying and laying my mess of dreams out before God. 

The song by Selah, “It may be unfulfilled, it may be unrestored, but anything that’s shattered, that’s laid before the Lord will not be unredeemed.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N9kMYkYcT6w

Oh me of little faith….I had no clue how wonderfully God was going to redeem the loss of my job and continue to develop how compassionate/passionate I am for the little ones like our Charlie.

In September of 2012, we got the call about Emmalynn. And the rest is history.......

Right now, Sarah is walking through what appears to be an open door to some healing she's not experienced yet.

We are clinging to the Promiser, not the gift. But, God also says to ask in His name and He's willing to give. 

This devotional came in my inbox yesterday and oh my, don't you love it when it hits the nail on the head!!

http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/the-unwelcome-gift-of-waiting

We are having the Praise and Worship Night on Friday the 17th. Our whole aim of getting together and having those Gulke sisters sing their hearts out along with the rest of us, is to give thanks to God. Our hope at the end of the evening is for people to walk away, shaking their heads saying, "Is God GOOD, or what?!!"

Please read Christa's blog. For one so young, she's held fast in the grip of God's mercy and grace.

http://sarahgulke.blogspot.com/2016/06/blog-post.html?spref=fb

A Kindred Spirit

Hello! Hello!!


Our home right now is a safe haven for babies, especially the ones who need hospice care because of their diagnosis. But! we're certainly not the only ones in this world who love on kiddos like our Charlie or who are hoping for future opportunities to do so in a more tangible way.

I would like to introduce you to a sweet friend of mine.
Her name is Sarah Beth Gulke.

This young lady has been tireless in her efforts to advocate for the unborn. She and I were kindred spirits on that front before any other.
In the past year; however,  we've crossed paths, simply put, because God brought me into closer contact with her. I've learned and been witness to the suffering she's endured with Transverse Myelitis.
She's a nineteen year old who's been knocked out physically with the pain and nerve damage she's endured and sustained because of the assault on her nervous system for years now. It might have permanently crushed Sarah's spirit also, but this has not happened.
My husband and I have both remarked about how Proverbs says "Even a child will be known by what he does." Children can be known as warriors, or brats. Those who face their uncertain future with hope and grace or those who whine and complain endlessly about how unfair life is to them.
(She sent me the photo this morning to show she's doing her part to get the tests necessary to help the doctors figure out what's up with her. When I saw her fighter stance I laughed and thought, "That's perfect. No room in this deal for wimps.")

Sarah has been knocked down and knocked out and by God's grace, still continues to get up and fight on the days she's able to do so, and she lays in bed and prays for others on the days she's not. I've found her remarkably receptive to the lessons I've learned the hard way through my own journey to the brink of death and back again. I live with constant reminders of how fragile I was once and how very quickly my body could deteriorate and be back there again if I didn't follow the treatment plan my doctors at Sanoviv prescribed and Dr. Whitcomb www.livelongmd.com
helps me keep pace with here in WI. The messages I've listened to at www.desiringgod.org on suffering and the sovereignty of God have been listened to by myself and Sarah and helped tremendously to redeem so much of the *nothingness* we fight with when prayers seemingly go unanswered.

Sarah and I both know first hand what it means to have hope deferred and our hearts made sick with grief when yet another doctor says they can help, then throws up their hands in futility and says, "I'm sorry. I guess I can't."

In July, because of some marvelous provision which has come in, Sarah is scheduled to go to www.sanoviv.com for treatment.
I've been to this hospital. I know first hand how wonderfully the doctors are able to use the wisdom they've been granted to bring people back from the clutches of death. How much better to go when you're not so broken!
This is a photo of myself when I arrived at Sanoviv four years ago. In a wheelchair, no strength to walk or even stand in the shower. I was on heavy duty narcotics, and many other drugs to treat symptoms of my autoimmune diseases. I'm not in the same place now, not hardly.

The monies for Sarah to go to Sanoviv, where she'll, God willing, find out what is causing the ongoing nerve pain and damage, are not quite all in.

We're having a Worship and Praise night on June 17th at 7p.m. to
*Number One - be thankful to God for all the ways He's broken Sarah and me for greater good. I've said before and firmly believe this; stained glass windows are all the more beautiful for having been broken and shaped and fitted together again in a way which is vastly more valuable  than the individual colored glass was to begin with.
*Number Two - we're going to pray for Sarah and her mom, Sherry, as they go to Sanoviv. This journey is not just about Sarah. Not. By. A. Long. Shot. God could've healed her long before this if there wasn't someone yet who needs to meet this young lady and be impacted by the suffering she's experienced. We reach more people in our pain than we ever do because our lives are so sunny. God has promised to work all things together for good and I have come to see my own visits to multiple hospitals, doctors and clinics as missionary journeys. I have unmistakably come into contact with hurt and dying people because I'm sitting in a  chair next to them receiving IV therapy. I would not have come across their path and been able to minister the way I did without having my body be afflicted the way it is. When God says He works ALL things together for good. He means ALL and not just the good things.
*Number Three - there'll be an opportunity to tangibly get behind Sarah and help support her monetarily in this endeavor. We're having them go on faith Sarah can be helped, but we've all seen first hand evidence that the therapies offered there truly work.

If you're able to make it on Friday, we'd love to see you there. If you can't physically come, then please join us in your prayers. We're expecting God to do exceedingly, abundantly above all we could ask or think.

pin	Show Map Grace Bible Church - Adell, WI - Youth & Young Adults 300 Neugent St PO Box 54, Adell, Wisconsin 53001

It Happens. Anywhere.

It's only 1:15 p.m. and a full day has already been put in as far as I'm concerned.

Early this morning, I saw this post on Facebook from a friend of mine in TN

I commented on it by saying.
"This is good! And fairly easy to put into practice in this moment. But! I'm going to get out of bed 
and go downstairs in a second, then only by God's grace will I continue to be the person I'm supposed to be."

There are 12 of us here in the house who needed to be gotten to church at various times this morning.
The bulk of the process of getting Charlie and the triplets fed, changed, dressed, and loaded into the van in time was left to Mark, Mary Elisabeth and myself. And we did it! We arrived at Crossroads
Community Church a full 10 minutes before the music began and were able to get settled and greet a few people. Usually we're racing like crazy and pulling in after the songs have begun. It's not that we like to be late, it's more that we have unpredictable people who like to pull stunts before we leave home that we have no choice but to deal with and give up on the notion of being timely.

The worship service was AMAZING!!

Charlie was enjoying himself and all was right with the world, for about 2 more minutes. I felt something drip onto my foot and looked down and noticed what appeared to be oil puddles all over the floor. Momentary confusion and checking of all of his machines ensued but that was a no-go. It was then that the realization Charlie had been pooping his pants and it had dripped all down the front of my dress, my flip-flops, and the floor, hit me like a ton of bricks. Oh brother!

Chairs were quickly shuffled out of the way, Mary Elisabeth pushed the wheelchair, while I walked alongside, Charlie in my arms, a burp cloth pressed against his backside so we didn't leave too much of a trail on the way to the women's bathroom. WHAT A MESS!
In the hurry to get Charlie out of the service, the diaper bag was left behind. Mark was sent back into the service to get it, and came back with Charlie's suction machine bag instead. Bisbess and I were attempting to get Charlie's poopy clothing off and put him in the sink. He's floppy most of the time unless agitated and then he can stiffen his arms and legs like a board. The sink was covered in poo and slippery as well as Charlie's body. He was not having it with our efforts to disrobe and wash him up. 
Mark finally came back with the right bag and was expressing huge reluctance about coming into the women's restroom. I didn't holler at him, but in my mind, it was completely legit for him to be in there even if he's not a cross-dresser. My husband does not even wear pink so he was fighting with himself over being deep into the bathroom and not just at the door handing stuff over.
Finally we had the boy naked except for a diaper and put him back in his seat. Then I realized there was no way I could go back into the service with globs of poopy pudding down the entire front of my dress. I stripped to my bra and slip and demanded Mary Elisabeth go find me a Crossroad's shirt and maybe a pair of shorts from the Lost and Found?!
There were no shorts to be found.
I thought to myself, "I don't pack clothing for me in the diaper bag. This isn't usually an issue, hello!!"
Several scenarios ran through my head but the course of action I landed on was to hand a cleaned up, but primarily naked Charlie over to Mark and Bis and I walked out of the bathroom wearing a shirt and my slip and left the building to drive home to get new clothing. Thankfully, I had decided to wear a slip this morning even though it hadn't been entirely necessary under the original dress I wore.
People I walked past on my way to our van may have thought it totally inappropriate to leave in the garments I had on, but they didn't realize how much scarier it could have been!!

I have a tendency in these kinds of situations, which leave me feeling really slightly unbalanced, to decide to never put myself in a position where "It Happens" again. However, I'm not sure that's the best solution. I had a similar episode with my 4th child at 2 months of age who completely pooped herself at the Zoo. We had the same scenario of trying to make the best of a bad deal and I didn't go back to the zoo for another 10 years. It wasn't until my 7th and 8th children at 3 and 4 years of age couldn't identify a gorilla or elephant that I understood the far reaching effects of such a drastic choice not to risk an awkward deal at the zoo.

We're going to be back in church next week, God willing. And He gave us the ability to deal with the chaos this morning and not completely lose. our. minds.
I'm not necessarily feeling kind and tenderhearted, but rather a little discombobulated. But the load is rinsed and in the washing machine and we'll live another day to deal with life as it happens. I want to quit being a mother at least 100 times a day. But somehow, someway, I get my *poop* together and do the next thing.

By God's grace, when handed lemons, grab the sugar and make lemonade.

ENDURANCE

Hospice is not usually a linear journey. You don't get the diagnosis and it's a straight shot,
with level, predictable markers until death. Charlie is up and down, good and bad, and
sometimes horrible. He hovers close to dying and we tell him "good-bye" and are readied to
let go as painful as it would be, but then he'll rally again and here we go another moment,
another day.

Today has been a rollercoaster. Oxygen sats dropping to the 50's, nothing I was doing to
suction or reposition seemed to be working so I asked him, "Are you done? are we done,
buddy? It's okay, honest...."

I gave him morphine and realized the container was, for all practical purposes, empty.
It's Saturday, (enter four letter word which is synonymous with poop).
The pharmacy typically has to have a written script handed to them in person
to refill the med. The doctors were not in today. Chasing this down and
quickly was a priority and a hassle I didn't want and fought to find energy to do.
Our palliative care doctor was marvelous and made arrangements with the pharmacy
to fill the order without much of a hiccup.

At one point, I snapped at the others in the room and asked them to leave.
The triplets were wailing, girls were banging on the piano, Mark was talking with
another friend who'd stopped and I was unable to focus. I'm not always pleasant
when I'm watching Charlie struggling and my best efforts are seemingly ineffective.
It doesn't help at all when Mark snaps back at me and repays my sharpness in kind.
Both of us can be afraid. Fear leaves us feeling helpless and a little powerless.
We have found ourselves reacting in anger because it uses the adrenalin we have coursing
through our veins and makes us feel focused and powerful in the moment. It's a stupid
way to cope and we apologize to one another afterwards but no one should have
the impression we're handling each of these crises with sweetness and light.
It's a battle, and we're not always gracious, or even nice, fighting it.

I have to switch gears emotionally and mentally with little notice. From working
over Charlie with death hanging in the balance, to breaking up fights between 11 month
old boys who are fussing over a toy. The phone can ring with some sales call, and the
teakettle can be going off in the background. We are a very busy household, lots of stuff
happening all the time, and for the most part, Charlie is here, living in the family room,
in the middle of the mix and whacking at his toys and not needing much more than some
oral suctioning. Other times, it's more chaotic and he's gray and he's seizing,
and his face is contorted, tears are dripping out of his eyes and it's
heartbreaking to look at him.

It's never a matter of quitting, but I do question how someone is supposed to keep on
keeping on when life is so awfully unpredictable? I was mulling that over as I sat on the
floor in my closet regrouping, weeping and praying.

I was reminded, "His mercies are new every morning."
That's cool, 'cause I need a new batch every stinking day!

"They that wait upon the Lord will renew their strength"
I'm not always sure what waiting on Him looks like in the nasty now and now? I don't
really much care for *hallway* situations. I like my life to be cooking with gas or let's get
it over already. I don't have much patience for the *in between, hanging on by a thread,
we haven't a clue how long this is gonna be* kind of deal.

I am not naturally patient and prefer times when I know I've only got to roll, for let’s say,
4 more hours and 32 minutes. That's definable. I can set my inner being to endure for that
long. Life in general, and caring for hospice babies specifically, has been a work of grace in
my life. God knows I'm a flawed human and He's doing a good thing in providing
opportunities galore to develop my character.
I'm not what I should be, but I'm not what I was even a few weeks ago. A refiner's fire
is hot for a reason, and I'll be the first to acknowledge I have a lot of dross to burn off.
One friend who's known me for years, paid me the highest
compliment a couple of years ago. She told me I was not the same person I had been,
who'd been frustrating to know given my propensity to get consumed with my
to-do list, running around like a chicken with my head cut off, which is a bloody mess if
you've ever seen that happen live!
She told me, "The difference in you now, that you've come out of the physical suffering
you've been enduring, is that you trust God. It's evident."
Well amen, and hallelujah!
I can feel badly I acted like such a dork for so long trying to do things in my own strength
for God, or I can be thankful He took me to an awful place where I was absolutely humanly
useless and I had to trust He still valued me, or I wouldn't be breathing yet.
My worth isn't based on my ability to contribute. THANK GOD!

There is nothing definable about Charlie's life span. We are not prolonging his life and
we're not hastening his death. My prayer, from my gut with tears, is that God will make it
abundantly clear when Charlie is actually going to die, for sure. That we'll be prepared on
every front. I can't fathom today how this will be possible. Charlie is on life support.
How can he die and it not be traumatic? Our family cannot walk away from
his death feeling as though we contributed towards hastening it by withdrawing his
ability to breathe, period. His death needs to be clean with no guilt on our part to carry. It's
hard enough already without that too.
At this point in time, the possible ways he'd die would be by drowning
in his own secretions, suffocation because of a mucus plug, a possible pseudo bowel
obstruction related to dis-motility issues, or like he's done in the past, he'll drop his oxygen
sats in the tank even while on the ventilator, for no definable reason whatsoever. This
not knowing what we'll face at the end is one of the toughest pills to swallow in the deal.

But, we were in a similar spot with Emmalynn too. Having no idea how long she would live.
We were forced to do one day at a time. My friend told me when I said I wasn't sure how to
keep enduring, "You promised to love her through this."

Yes, we sure did!

And we did endure, and carried on valiantly.

We will do the same for Charlie though Emmalynn lived for 50 days and Charlie is 22 months.
God knows the number of his days and will call him Home at the appointed time. He knows,
and that has to be enough for me. I don't have to do this tomorrow yet, because it's still today.
And that's a good thing to remember when I don't have to strength to take on tomorrow's
cares and concerns.

I look at the video I posted a little earlier of him on the safehaven4babies Facebook site and
marvel at how my little buddy can be on morphine and look so bright and aware.
I probably should do drugs because I look like heck!!
HA!

His skin is gorgeous and except for the fact the vent was going off every couple of
minutes because of his shenanigans, no one looking at him would know how much
of a struggle living can be.

Thanks for reading if you made it this far. I'm singing along with Lauren,
"I Will Trust In You". https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qv-SXz_exKE

Unexpected Insight

We are medical treatment foster care parents. This means, both Mark and I have to complete continuing education hours yearly in order to maintain our license. This can be, because we make it so, a royal pain in the butt.
This past year, I personally had wanted life to  slow down a little bit and put off doing our classes until crunch time came and then there was nothing to do but dig in and try not to panic over whether we'd be able to meet the requirements.
I, for one, hate to miss deadlines. I try not to be anal about it, but when I  know people have asked certain things of me, which are reasonable and necessary, and I feel unable to satisfy the request, it can drive me batty.
My husband probably doesn't like to disappoint anybody either but he's much more quick to say, "Who cares?!" and walk off and not stew about it anymore. In the past, I've felt the need to impress upon him the importance of doing something and it's backfired. The more I press, the more he retreats into sullen silence and we. get. nowhere. but. mad.

The other morning, I laid on the floor in my bedroom, while the Chi machine worked its magic, and bawled. The fact that there were 30 hours total of education between the two of us to accomplish yet, was nigh unto impossible. I prayed. I felt a little resentful, angry, helpless, irritated and generally not in a mood to get up and get going. The verse, "With men this is impossible, but with God all things are possible" popped into my gloomy thoughts. "Okay, God, have at it. I don't know how You're going to get this done, but You know it must be, so feel free to make it happen."
A little while later, I realized that in addition to carrying over the effects of the flu from the day before, I  also had a bladder infection. Marvelous.
Once upon a time, (and perhaps again in the future), I would be offended and flounder when I got sick. Because God already knows what I'm thinking, I can be quite frank with Him.
"Uhm, you know I don't have time for this. Could you heal me quickly, please?!"
This go-round, I took a different tactic.
"Thank You for indoor plumbing. For a daughter willing to run to the pharmacy for Pyridium and cranberry juice. Leftover Cipro to swallow along with breakfast."
I felt too dizzy to work downstairs and must've looked as badly as I felt because I was admonished by my family to go back to bed.
With Mark, Silvia and my teenagers holding down the fort, I did just that.
Not necessarily sleepy, I pulled out my laptop and began listening to webinars related to Attachment Issues in Infants.
The day's tasks, which at the beginning appeared completely overwhelming, were completed one by one in the subsequent 12 hours; without a lot of crazy hassle and anxiety.

The following day, Mark had taken a vacation day from work and so we sat and listened to a 2.5 hour session together. We took the quiz at the end of it and got a 70% so didn't pass. Mark would tell you he got the right answers, I got the wrong ones, and so it's my fault we didn't pass. We're a team. He's right and I'm not. Whatever.
Instead of 2.5 hours, we then needed to spend 5 hours listening to the webinar. Again, I had a choice to resent the time spent, not passing the first time, or have an attitude of gratitude.
I consciously chose gratitude.
The webinar http://centervideo.forest.usf.edu/confvids/attachbiobehave/attachbiobehave01/FS.html
proved to be an insightful, educational, over the top blessing to my husband and myself. Here's why.

Mary Dozier has proven that being nurturing and taking delight in infants when they are crying can overcome their attachment disorders. It's marvelously simple and yet incredibly complex. She presses the concept that infants need to find a safe place to go with their emotions  and have them validated.
Foster parents must overcome their natural response to downplay, ignore or redirect the child's crying.
If a child climbs up on a chair, falls and bangs their head, and comes to you crying, what's your response?
"I told you not to climb on that chair!"
"You're not hurt that badly, stop bawling."
"Hey look outside, see the bird?"

None of those responses help in the long run. Instead, try saying, "You've hurt yourself, I'm sorry. Let me hold you a minute 'til you're ready to get down." Crazy enough, the child does not have to cry harder to make you understand he's hurt. He knows you care. He's been nurtured, validated, and is more likely to settle because you're holding him and your ability to be calm is transferred to him and he's able to regulate his emotions to match your own.

This concept proceeded to initiate a discussion between Mark and myself. Our family's response to getting hurt or sick was not necessarily nurturing. We weren't in the least finding fault with our parents or siblings, or each other, but simply discussing whether we consciously decide to nurture or not.
I have felt in the past that my emotions were invalid. Setting Mark up for success in our interactions means I tell him, "I want you to say, 'that's gotta be tough' and then stop. Don't fix it, don't talk me out of it, etc. Just say those magic words and you'll win."
I then proceed to tell him whatever is on my heart, bizarre or otherwise, and he follows my cue and says, "That must be tough"  usually with a wink and a barely concealed grin. I glow with appreciation over his sympathy for my plight, lean in and kiss him and say, "You nailed it!" We both walk away from the interaction not having argued. I don't feel helpless to communicate how sad, disappointed, and upset I might be with increasing angst because he's just not getting it. He might not get it, and would rather not hear about my issues because he can't fix it, but he doesn't make me angry.
A hilarious video is linked here if you care to watch how men and women often relate.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-4EDhdAHrOg

Both my husband and I want to be a safe place for the other to air our concerns, fears, hurts and dreams. We've hung out together now for 32 years. A webinar on attachment issues in infants, helped us find ways to better communicate with one another than we'd ever thought of before or heard about or read.

I didn't blow it this past week in facing the challenge of getting continuing education hours in along with all the other demands. No, I didn't wade into this education stuff with the right attitude to begin with, I'm not that amazing or wonderful at all, naturally. I resented the heck out of the inconvenience, but what I did do well, was pray. And take God at His word that He indeed is able to do the impossible. As Beth Moore would say, "You get to decide how you're going to do the *WHAT*. You can do it mad, or you can do it glad." He blessed our socks off with the sweet insight we gained in relating to one another, our biological children, our foster kiddos, and just about everyone else in our path.

I shared with Mark that I have regularly found myself apologizing and asking forgiveness of God for being so stupid, slow, unable to do the right thing, the right way, at the right time, every time, usually with bitter tears being shed. I had assumed God was unhappy and frustrated with me and not wanting to hear my cries if they weren't cleaned up and holy. Projecting on Him the impatience in the way I've had others respond to me, or I've had with others, is the devil's trick.
Satan's biggest ploy is to get me to doubt. "Did God say?" has been his M.O. since the beginning of time. I'm not making that up. Check out Genesis!  If I feel God is basically unhappy with my humanness and frailty, then I can be sucked of motivation to even try.
The enemy of my soul is not going to be able to take me to Hell with him but he will attempt to make me as ineffective as possible this side of eternity.

Hearing the way the child psychologist  encourages foster parents to react to the children placed in their homes, gave me a renewed perspective on the way my Heavenly Father draws me close, validates my pain, and as He says so often in His word, He delights in me.
I'm BELIEVING it!

I like to picture God holding my hand in ways similar to the way I hold Charlie's, with gentleness and compassion. He knows my frame and He remembers I'm made of dust. Psalm 103:14 but just like I do with Charlie,
Zephaniah 3:17
"The Lord your God in your midst,
The Mighty One, will save;
He will rejoice over you with gladness,
He will quiet you with His love,
He will rejoice over you with singing.”

My gift ~

Several years ago, I was standing in the kitchen singing at the top of my lungs. I had an iPod plugged into my ears and for me, I was doing a beautiful job. For those who couldn't hear the music, it was terrible. My husband came walking through the house and asked me to remove the ear buds.
"Honey, you're blessing my heart with your enthusiasm but you're hurting my ears."
I snapped back, "You know?! If I put on some weight and didn't color my hair, I could look just like Susan Boyle."
"Yes," he said, "But you can't sing. And that's kind of like being Rainman and no good at math."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RxPZh4AnWyk


I love football, but my 130 pound physique would be a grease spot on the field should somebody like BJ Raji decide to mow me down. Shoot, a guy half his size could permanently mangle my body with one tackle. While I have to be as tenacious as Eddie Lacy in trying to get through the *game* I face everyday here at home, I've not been given the talent or body to play football.

I found out at my 50th birthday party, I'm not the athlete I thought I was. One of my dearest friends told everyone present that only reason I was any good at volleyball was because I played on a clergy league at the YMCA. The mean age was 65 and most of the players have bad hips, backs, knees, etc. The reason I was any good at all was the arthritis factor in most of the other players.  Somehow I'd never taken stock of my talent by looking at the guys with whom I was playing the game!

I've come to the realization that I don't have a bucket of talents. I don't sing, dance, or play sports well. I'm not a great cook. Martha Stewart isn't my middle name. I bake food on a cookie sheet and toss it on the table on the same pan mostly because my children prefer not to have to wash any extra dishes, though it might help with the presentation to put the food on a clean platter. Bah! On a regular day to day basis, that's too much work.

I'm not a beauty queen.
I was told, honestly, "You're alright, but it's not like you're going to win a beauty contest." My mother in law was sitting with me and looking at pictures. She mentioned I looked pretty good in one of them. I said, "Yeah, I know." (which by the way, would be a standard husband comeback)
Mama looked at me and said, "Well, you're not that good looking."
I know that too  =)

Reality check........I am not going to be able to be anything I want to be simply because you've got to have some kind of raw material to work with and I come up quite short or totally void of giftedness in the areas where I would love to excel.

One thing I'm dang good at, however, is caring for little people, babies who are healthy or otherwise. I'm 50 and still haven't mastered the art of changing a diaper as just yesterday, one of my little men whizzed all over my shirt and pants because I wasn't quite quick enough.
But, for the most part, I am  *A baby whisperer*.
This talent will not earn me a paycheck. But, my hope is that the investment of my love and energy and time and steadiness and predictability for them, will help them learn to love and trust well as they move on into their futures.

I am a hick. I wear blue jeans, old t-shirts which are stained and I don't care because at some point in my day they'll have spit up, or drool, or possibly poop schmeared on them and not be unstained for long. I wear little to no make-up. I've stolen my husband's old tube socks and they have holes in the part which should rest on my calves but are continually falling down in a pile at my ankles, so I hike them back up where they stay for a nano-second before descending again. I have 2 pairs of tennis shoes which are broken in to create *slip-ons* so I don't have to bother with lacing them each time.

I am not all that sweet. I am not amazing. I'm doing the best I can day to day to provide a home for my family. And we've been privileged to have a few other kiddos who needed us for a time to make sure they had the basic stuff in life. A place to sleep, food to eat, a safe place to play, and arms to hold them and plenty of love.

Being able to give an answer for the hope that lies within me has happened once again in our local paper today.
http://www.sheboyganpress.com/story/news/local/2016/03/13/sheboygan-mom-hospice-babies-opens-up/81703808/

I am able to love people with my whole heart who are not biologically my own.
That's my talent. That's my gift.

Mount up with wings like eagles ~

One way I have found not to go crazy when life doesn't fit into a nice neat package is to remember times it was exactly like this in the past. Did things work out? Did I lose my mind? (Not entirely or I wouldn't be able to type this. I will not say there wasn't some brain damage that occurred in the process, however). My greatest ability to calm myself is to remember how God has provided for me in the past.

I received a request Thursday night at 11 p.m. for me to answer a number of questions detailing our journey through my illness, bringing Emmalynn home, and now how we're caring for Charlie. The deadline to have the questions answered in full was noon on Friday.
I laughed. Then wanted to cry.
I have 8 children at home right now.
All of them need me in one fashion or another.
Weekends we typically do not have an LPN to assist us with Charlie's cares. He has to be attended to 24/7 as his status can change very quickly from being just dandy to disastrous.
The triplets are 9 months old and everything must be done for them.

Yesterday, I thought perhaps I had a block of time but then Charlie was dropping his oxygen sats. His secretions were filling up his lungs. He had to be suctioned to attempt to clear his airway. I was holding the buddy and singing to him and he pooped in my arms and it went all up his back......yup, an outfit change and a bedding change and his heart rate was so fast he could have possibly gone into cardiac arrest. Hmmmm.
I'm not lighthearted about how fragile he is.
He needed me present last evening, not up in the office madly typing away on my laptop.
When I lie down next to him, or hold him on my lap, it's as if this sense of peace comes over me. Charlie isn't anxious about much of anything. He's doing his thing day by day and we're looking forward to Heaven for him.
He's not sweating the small stuff.
When I'm with him and telling him about Heaven and blessing his heart/hurting his ears with my singing, it's a reality check.
Deadlines are deadlines but are really not all that deadly. If it doesn't get done, hello, it doesn't get done.
I'm called at this point in time to loving care for my child and that means I give him the gift of presence. He, like Emmalynn, does not need me busy. He needs me close by.

Today........

As of Sunday night at 8 p.m. not a dang thing had been accomplished on the writing front.
I went to bed last night and prayed, "God, if this is what You want, then you're going to have to make it happen. I do not want to make my family miserable because I'm chafing at their ever  present needs when I personally am torn between caring for them and all the rest of this. If the enemy of my soul is not wanting me to be able to answer these media requests to give the reason for the HOPE that lies within me, then knock him out of the way. If this is simply my own personal agenda, then please, make that clear too, because there's not enough time for me to pursue selfish desires."

I woke up this morning and had a full day ahead with a journey to Milwaukee to Children's planned in it. But, the child who needed to go to the doctor wasn't feeling okay for other reasons and the appt. was cancelled and made for another day and time.
This suddenly free'd up my entire morning to hole up and answer the multitude of questions being asked and demanded by today.

I recently finished reading the book Through the Eyes of a Lion by Levi Lusko borrowed to me by one of my best friends, Mary.
http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/through-the-eyes-of-a-lion-levi-lusko/1120808711

It's a valuable book for anyone and everyone!
One chapter which has resonated is his encouragement to call on the Holy Spirit to come rescue us like the Eagles did in the Lord of the Rings. The hobbits or Gandalph couldn't have been in more impossible situations but the Eagle came at just the right moment and they were carried off to safety and help and comfort. Levi draws a parallel between the Holy Spirit enabling us to mount up with wings like eagles, to run and not grow weary and walk and not faint, with calling on God to help us in the same way as depicted in LOTR.

I did that last evening. With men this deadline to get everything done I needed to do was impossible, but with God all things are possible. There was no immediate human solution to my time dilemma. Over and over again in my life however, I've been given opportunity to Trust God for the biggest things and the littlest aggravations.

My daughter is going to be fine, the not feeling well this morning will soon pass. And I would never have planned for her to be unable to attend her doctor's appt in Milwaukee. But that's the way God provided the extra block of time I needed. He answered my prayers that He's in this. He is for me. He loves me. It's hard, it's difficult and it doesn't come easily, but He wants our story of faith in living out our HOPE in Him to redeem the messiest situations to be told.

People is still moving forward with our story to be on newsstands on Wed. Nancy Reagan's life coming to pass here on earth almost bumped it but not quite. With potentially 90 million people reading about our journey with Emmalynn and Charlie, that many more people will have the opportunity to hear about our God and faith in Christ. He is our Rock and Shield and a very present help in time of trouble!

We're hanging onto our hats! Life as we know it is going to get even more wild ~