Traveling, Traveling

The dreaded time has come...

Convention season.

Over the next 5 weeks I am hitting the road 4 times.

Tennessee, Texas, South Carolina and Missouri

Aaron and I are Tennessee bound this morning to the Teach Them Diligently conference.

Leaving Little Girl and John home with Rob.

Prayers would be greatly appreciated.

Little girl's roller coaster ride has not been as treacherous these last few weeks. We made some changes in her diet and meds and we are seeing a positive difference. But she's still fragile and leaving her is hard on my heart. 

Rob's amazing with her so she's in great hands but it's still not easy. Praying our van stays steady on the road and we make it there and back safe and sound.

We are rejoicing that our book came bumping into the driveway on Tuesday... 

We are honestly too exhausted right now to rejoice properly but hopefully when I get back we can take the time to do some celebrating and sharing of all that has been happening in the BiblioPlan World!!

Until then....

I'm off....

 

It's Coming!

It is on its way!!

The mail truck will soon be backing into our driveway and unloading will commence.

AWWWWWW!!!!!!!!

Breathe... breathe... breathe...

Stay tuned... we have been busy ... so much to share about this new book!!

We Hide It Well

It's Sunday Morning.

Mary just finished her breakfast.

We won the lottery this morning.

Truly.

Sundays are hard.

A weekly battle that I have come to dread.

Our day of rest is usually one of anxiety and stress as we navigate around what epilepsy does to our little one. Going from sleep to wake for Mary is her absolute worst part of the day. We deal with morning time issues every single morning but somehow on Sunday it always seems worse.

By the time we get to church we feel like we have run a marathon and should win some kind of consolation prize for just showing up.

Some mornings it is all I can do to hold it in. The stress and frustration just below the surface.

We hide it well.

Most people at church are oblivious to how much effort it takes to get out the door.

But this morning she ate. 

She didn't start eating and then go into freeze mode. Not able to swallow or spit. 

She didn't chipmunk the food in her mouth. Seizures piling on with us helpless to do anything but wait it out.

She didn't refuse outright to eat.

She didn't go into status. We didn't have to rescue her.

She ate. She swallowed. She talked. She sang with Papa while he practiced the guitar. She took all her pills.

The lottery. It was the grand prize lottery this morning.

And we are breathing easy. Feeling like we could win if all marathons looked like this. Less stressful. Wishing every morning was like this. Especially Sundays.

Church. Worship. 

No marathon.

Thank you Lord. Thank you!

Annointed With Oil

This last week as we have watched our little girl suffer over and over again, we have been raised up, carried, encouraged and loved by the prayers of all the saints who surround us.

Many of those prayers have been from those who follow this blog and are friends on Facebook. Unseen friends who are scattered across the globe who have come to love our three littles. 

Many are from family and friends who can't be near us but can still reach out and cover our little girl in prayer.

And many are from our church family.

A church family that has rallied for us this past week. Calling, e-mailing, praying, visiting. 

This morning in church our little girl tanked twice. Slipping into the abyss of seizures that have become her norm in the last week. 

Between tanking we carried her to the front of the church. She was surrounded by pastors and those who love her. And they prayed. Believing along with us that God hears our prayers. He loves her. He hears and He responds to our cries. He can heal. We know this. Mary was anointed by oil and lifted to the throne.

I am not one to lose it in public. I lost it in church today. The stress. The heartache this last week. The words of the doctors ringing in my ears. The raging. The crazy. I lost it. 

And God, in His loving kindness, moved into my spirit and whispered peace in my heart.

We carried her out and while Rob played the guitar for the offering, I sat on the floor in the back of the church rescuing my child for the umpteenth time in the week.

Every other time when she has come out of rescue she has been dazed, angry, agitated and aggressive. 

Today she came out with her eyes shining. Her impish grin on her face.

She has been that way this entire afternoon.

Bright. Happy. Talking. Seizures are there but few and far between.

Cured. Probably not in the immediate. She still is having seizures.

But an anointing that gave us a respite from the weary and the stress. An anointing that gave our little girl peace for a time. Joy. Happiness. A chance to go outside and jump on the trampoline with Papa.

He anoints my head with oil.

My cup overflows.

Surely His goodness and mercy follow me all my days.

And I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

Forever.

He is good.

He meets us where we are and carries us when we cannot go on.

And He CAN heal. We believe that. He can heal our little girl. For a season or forever. In this life or the next to come. 

Raging

We are home.

I won't lie.

The last 24 hours have been beyond brutal. 

Watching our little girl have non-stop seizures over and over again is hard.

Watching our little girl react violently to the drugs they give her is on an entirely different level.

She was feral last night. I spent well over 5 solid hours with a child who was scratching, biting, hitting and screaming. If I came too close she would try to scratch my eyes out. It wasn't until close to midnight that she finally fell into a deep sleep of exhaustion. They moved us out of the ER about the same time and after we were settled in the room, I curled up in bed next to her and held her. It was the only sweet moments we had the entire time she was in the hospital.

Today she is only a few degrees better. We are home and she is still raging. Everything sets her off and we are helpless to help her. The doctors tell us we should be grateful the seizures stopped. Grateful isn't exactly spilling from my lips right now. I want them to come be with my child to see the wreckage those drugs leave behind. 

And while Rob was washing the junk out of her hair this afternoon she had her first seizure since the massive dose of drugs thrown at her yesterday.

Respite from seizures is short-lived around here.

We are searching for the whys at this point. There could be many and none. On the paperwork they sent home they said it could just be the progression of the disease. I want to rage against that. I want my raging voice to join hers. 

Not for her.

Not for her.

We want a reason.

A reason means we can fix it. A reason gives us direction. A reason gives us hope.

Their words are too final and hopeless and I rage against them.

We just will keep trying.

And try not to despair.

And keep hoping and searching and praying and fighting for our little girl.

Even when she tries to scratch our eyes out.

Unexpected Admission

It’s been a rough week. 

Little girl couldn’t get a break from status seizures.

Our rescue drugs were not keeping them at bay.

Unfortunately the cocktail offered by the hospital sends her into orbit.

It’s going to be a rough few days here as they work to break the cycle and try to figure out why she is tanking.

Her reputation preceded her. She gets the sad prize for being her neurologist’s most complicated case.

Praying for answers.

Praying for patience. She’s been raging for hours and we anticipate many more. 

Please pray for little girl. 

Saying Goodbye

Yesterday our Lucy left our house for forever.

Our silly, wild, over enthusiastic dog who loved her peoples with an exuberance that often left them flat on the floor is gone.

She was Little Girl's best friend in the world. They were Trouble One and Trouble Two. 

Loyal. Happy. Sweet. All great descriptions of our Lucy.

But also crazy and reckless. Wild. Uncontrollable.

Nothing was safe with her around. Every tool, toy, bike, piece of equipment, amazon box etc. was her personal chew toy. The amount of things she destroyed could fill a landfill. 

No one was safe. Every person who walked on our property was fair game for her. Little people were especially fun. Slamming them to the ground and rolling over top of them was her favorite pastime. 

My poor 85 year old dad took his life in his hands each time he came over.

Chewing and destroying we could handle. She's still a puppy. She will outgrow that destructive tendency.

The jumping and uncontrolled wildness we could not.

We tried. We tried to train her. She would sit and listen and stay at mealtimes like a pro. She understood commands. She was calm and quiet in the house with us. But as soon as a car drove into the driveway she went into frenzy mode and we could not reign her in. She was too big and powerful. We had friends try to work with her but hit the same wall we did. She would not come or sit or stay when people were around. She just went crazy. 

She was too wild. And we couldn't risk her harming the little people who so often visit. We couldn't risk her hurting my dad. Our UPS driver and other delivery drivers were traumatized by her. 

Last week she took out my friend's little girl. Knocked her over and when the child tried to get up she took her down again. It was pure joy for Lucy. The child was her plaything. I ran and yelled to get her off, but she was having way too much fun. At the expense of a little girl. 

It was the last straw.

She left yesterday. She has a great new home. A single man who loves wild and crazy dogs and who has the time and energy to work with her. She will be well loved and cared for. She will run and play with his other dogs, sleep in his room at night and be his special pet. He will feed her fresh cooked food and give her all the love and attention she deserves.

It's a win for Lucy. 

She went to the best kind of place for her.

But a loss for us.

She left a hole in our hearts.

We loved her. She was our crazy puppy. If we lived in a  bubble with just our family we would never ever have given her up. But too many people come here. And we had to consider their well-being. 

So yesterday we said goodbye.

And today I cry for my dog. Missing her crazy wild self. Missing her company while I work. Wishing we could have figured out how to stop the jumping, the crazy.

The kids and I, we loved our Lucy.

And we are really really going to miss her.

Truly.

The Yearly Yell... And Why...

What do you do when you get notice that it will be ugly sweater day at school in two days and no one has an ugly sweater and the last thing you want to do is go to the store????

You make your own!!

Well...

We didn't make Little Girl's.... I  bought her adorable Christmas outfit last April when it was on sale.

But all the boys had were matching PJ pants and red shirts.

But with a bit of felt and some beads and string...

We happily made our own!!

To match Little sister's....

Win!

------------------------------------------

Thank you to everyone who took the time to click on Ernest's picture.

He went over the 1,000 wall and beyond.

To all those who reached out in the last few days to thank me for reminding them about the Angel Tree/MACC... Your Welcome.

And here is your reminder again....

As of this evening...

60 babes still need to cross the 1,000 wall.

Yesterday morning I took the bit of Christmas money I had and was able to bump a child or two over the wall.

It was the best part of my day yesterday.

Those babes had NO IDEA I loved on them for a few minutes.

Their future families (Oh please families step up) will never know that I gave to their little one to help bring them home.

It doesn't matter to me that they are unaware.

The pleasure is in the act.

Knowing that in the future - my little gift is going to make it a tiny bit easier on a family.

Do me a favor.

Just click THIS LINK.

Scroll down and look at all the faces of all the children.

The top 9 children have families who are racing across the ocean to get them.

The rest...

They are waiting.

And waiting.

Go click.

Look through the waiting babes.

11 years ago I did.

I had NO INTENTION of adopting at that point.

Not international. Not special needs.

I clicked because someone shared.

I picked three children off the tree that year and gave to their grant accounts.

I felt good.

I felt like I had done something beautiful and holy.

I had no intention of adopting.

None.

But after Christmas I went back.

I looked again.

I looked for those three children.

And then I clicked farther into the website.

And a little face popped up at me.

And the rest is history.

He wasn't on the Angel Tree.

Yet God used the Angel Tree to break my heart.

He used the Angel Tree to connect me to that picture.

So each year I yell.

Knowing that somewhere - someone might just CLICK HERE.

And they may just give and that is amazing and wonderful.

And they may go back.

Look again.

And the Holy Spirit just may speak.

So click. Look. Pray. Give, so that we can get all the babes over 1,000. And if you feel called by the Lord - Adopt!!

Teeny Tiny

I promised a friend I would yell for him back in November.

I promised that I would share him and get him seen.

Time got away from me and I didn't yell as I wanted to yell. 

Every day something took my time and energy and I just couldn't pull myself together to get a blogpost written.

Every time I checked the Angel Tree I would look for him on there. Up until yesterday he was hanging around the  bottom of the tree - his grant account rising slowly. 

Then last night I checked and saw that he was less than 50 from jumping over the 1,000 wall.

I was happy to see him jump, but recognized I had failed in my desire.

He needs to be seen.

He needs me to stop and share with you how precious and worthy he is.

His Reece's Rainbow name is Ernest.

He's not just small... He's teeny tiny.

Do you see how teeny tiny he is???

His little chin barely makes it over the table.

Oh Mama!!

He's got a beautiful smile and a precious personality...

Packed in the tiniest little body.

SEE HIM!

He's 6 years old.

His diagnoses are bigger than his tiny body.

He won't survive over there.

If he's transferred to a mental institute like Aaron's he won't survive.

He's too tiny and fragile.

Mama - Where are you??

Papa - go pick him up!

He need less than 50.00 to reach his 1,000 goal which is wonderful. but his family still needs to find him.

Please share Ernest. 

Please shout for him today.

Please pray his family SEES him.

Teeny tiny boy so desperately needs to be seen.

Click here to help Ernest get over the 1,000 wall.

CLICK HERE to see a whole host of other very worthy children who desperately need a Mama and a Papa too. Many of them are NOT over the 1,000 wall and we only have 5 days to reach that goal.

A Motley Crew

Martha Stewart would laugh us out of her catalog.



Our ornaments are an acquired assortment of ragtag balls and memory-laden pieces with the wild mess of homemade ones added in.

None of them are worth anything except to us.

Our tree is no longer the hand cut tree we acquired each year tramping around on the Christmas tree farms. We loved hunting for our perfect tree although none of them would have ever made it into a catalog.

One year our hand cut tree died half-way through the Christmas season. By Christmas day it was a bare naked tree with a million needles littering the floor.

Our tree is now a store-bought one due to having to exile the last hand cut tree to the garage for the duration of the Christmas season after Ben had a serious allergic reaction to it. That year our presents were pretty forlorn without the tree standing over them.

Our kids hang the ornaments.



Wherever they want.

They have no sense of design.

They don't think about balance.

They just enjoy putting our ragtag assortment on the branches.

They hang based on their height or reach.

Which makes our tree lopsided and heavy-laden in certain sections. Usually down-low.

I've never rearranged.

Not since our first born hung his first ornament on the branches.

It's their tree.

It's their fun.

I don't need a perfectly balanced tree with gorgeous ornaments.

I don't need to 'fix' what they have done.

I may rehang one that has come tumbling to the floor.

I may rescue one that is hanging precariously on a branch.

But I'm fine with our mess of a tree.

I don't need picture-perfect.

Our lives are not picture-perfect.

We are a motley crew.

We rarely dress up pretty. We don't go out to fancy places. We are a crew of ragtag kids, homegrown and brought from overseas.

We live chaos and crazy most of the time.

From the outside looking in we look a bit of a mess, unbalanced, uneven and definitely ragtag.

But we love.

And we are fine with how we look.

Who cares if we don't make the Martha Stewart catalog.

Who cares if we are not picture perfect.

Who cares if the lights on our tree this year have completely died!

We love our motley tree and we love our motley crew.

And that's all that matters!

A Sweet Tale About Pink Socks

Let me tell you a tale this Tuesday morning.

It won't take long.

It's short. It's sweet.

It's about a little boy in pink socks named Conrad on Reece's Rainbow.

It's about a blogpost I wrote as his Angel Tree/MACC Warrior. You can read it HERE.

It was prayed over and posted on Friday, November 1st. The first day of MACC.

I don't know how many views it received. I rarely look at those stats.

I do know that it was shared.

Not once but several times.

Friends on my wall read the post and shared on their wall.

And some of those people shared on their walls.

About a little boy in pink socks.

One of those shares was seen by a family who had been praying about adopting a little one with arthrogryposis.

DID YOU READ THAT??

Let me state that again. One of those shares was seen by a family who had been in prayer! They had a little one with arthrogryposis and had looked around their table and saw an empty seat and had been praying. They had been praying.

And on that Friday - they read my post. 

Because someone shared. And someone shared. And someone else shared.

And one of those shares touched a family.

And the Holy Spirit whispered.

Of course they were afraid. Of course they wondered. Of course they had to ask a ton of questions.

But as they voiced their fears and worries and questions - the peace of God filled their hearts....

And love... Love filled their hearts.

Love for a little boy in pink socks.

And they said YES!

And all your gifts of love to Conrad were encouragement and confirmation.

AND CONRAD HAS A FAMILY!

And next Christmas - next Christmas - he's going to be surrounded by a Mama and a Papa and brothers and sisters and lots of love... a whole ton of love.

And that's my story.

Short. Sweet. Simple.

A blogpost written. A share. or two. or three. God whispering. Yes, Lord. 

Thank you, Jesus!

Amen!

P.S. Conrad's family still needs to raise a ton of money so CLICK HERE to say thank you for saying yes!!