Busy Daze

These past few weeks have been jam-packed for me, and I'm really thankful for that because it's made time fly and kept my mind from worrying (y'all know I'm prone to do that!).  Between coordinating state testing, totalling scholarships, presenting at Awards Night, speaking at Freshman Orientation, attending Senior Breakfast, finalizing senior records, corralling hyped-up seniors at graduation, and finalizing underclassmen cumulative transcripts (not to mention all the crises that have popped up in between), work has made this guidance counselor a total lunatic.  I am so proud of my seniors, though, and was on such a high last night after their graduation.  I can't believe I've almost completed my first full year in a job I fought so hard to get, and I'm so looking forward to the excitement next year holds.  I miss my first senior class already (how did I get so attached to them in just one year??), but I'm thrilled to say I've already signed my contract for next year (hooray!), and I know there are wonderful things in store there, as well.
I've continued to go home every weekend (this will be my 14th straight weekend in Columbus) to be with mom as she prepares for chemo, which actually starts tomorrow.  She saw her gynocological oncologist on May 7, and he felt she was healed enough to begin this preventive treatment as soon as all the preliminary visits, tests, etc. were done.  Visits to the chemo oncologist and the radiologist have kept her busy these past two weeks, and she's also had a port implanted (where she'll receive her chemo meds), had a CT scan, and undergone several blood tests to make sure her body is ready to begin treatment.  She's even been fitted for a stylin' wig and has it ready and waiting if she needs it days or even weeks down the road.  Tomorrow is the big day, and I would be lying if I said she wasn't anxious and fearful.  She is wholly ready to "get this show on the road," but, as is almost always true with the unknown, she gets anxious about possible side-effects and reactions to treatment.
You have all been so amazing throughout these last four months of our lives, and I thank you in advance for continuing to stand beside us and lift us up.  Those of you who have called, visited, brought food, sent her a card, etc. have really warmed her heart and mine, and we will never be able to thank you enough for your love and support.  I ask you to keep a few specific prayers in mind tomorrow as she undergoes the first treatment:
Pray she will have peace and calm before and during the treatment
Pray her body will be able to receive the medication with little to no side effects
Pray if there is one tiny cancer cell in her body, this powerful medicine will obliterate it
Also, I selfishly ask for a prayer for myself, as well.  I can't be with my mom during her treatment, which, if you know us at all, you know is incredibly difficult for me.  I can't be away from work and won't be able to be home until Friday, so please, if you have a spare second, pray for my nerves to be calmed and my anxious thoughts to be put to rest, as well.  She won't be alone during or after the treatment, but y'all know what a control freak I am... I want to be there with her through every tough situation, but that's just not always possible.  (I think it's very possible God is working really hard in me to surrender some of that need to control everything...)  You, my friends, are so dear to us, and we are so thankful for every one of you.  God has carried us through this season of our lives, but you have made us laugh and cry and put smiles on our faces throughout it all. 
You'll never know how much you mean--

Shower of Love

Before I update you on Mom's status, let me say a special wow and thank you.  I am overwhelmed by the outpouring of love so many of you have shown me since I posted about Mom's diagnosis last week.  Your texts, calls, emails, Facebook messages, etc. have covered me in love and support like a warm blanket, and so many of them have arrived at the exact minute I needed them most.  You are all very special to me, and please believe my sincerity when I say I am so thankful for each of you!

But now back to the news...
We did receive Mom's pathology report late last week.  First the positive:  the cancer was contained to her uterus, and her doctor was able to fully remove the cancer present.  Hallelujah, God is so good!  The news that was a little harder to swallow came in the form of his recommendation that she take 6 rounds of chemotherapy as well as some radiation.  This is strictly precautionary, and, as of now, Mom is planning to follow his recommendation.  We trust her oncologist completely and have total faith in his skill, training, experience, etc.  She will go back and see him around the first of May and, if healed enough from the hysterectomy, start her first round of chemo almost immediately, with one treatment every 3 weeks.  Please pray that her body will be strong enough to get started at that time, as well as that she will be able to withstand chemo with minimal side effects.
Now, as I mentioned in my last post, Mom doesn't seem to do anything the easy way--at least when it comes to her medical procedures!  This weekend was another prime example of that to add to our list.  When I got home Friday night, I noticed Mom's right ankle and lower leg were swollen, red around the ankle and warm to the touch.  She said she hadn't hurt it or twisted it or anything, but we elevated it and iced it Friday night, anyway.  I told her if it looked the same Saturday morning, we were going to need to go to the hospital.  When we woke up Saturday, it looked a little less swollen but not enough to wholly ease my mind.  So, we trekked it down to the ER, where, after several hours and several tests, they ruled out a blood clot (which is what I had feared) and diagnosed her with cellulitis, or a bacterial infection.  We were beyond thankful she doesn't have a blood clot, but we prayed her antibiotic would go to work quickly and effectively to reduce the infection.  Her doctor wanted to see her back in his office today, and, as he told us in the ER Saturday, he was 'not going to hesitate to put her in the hospital to receive antibiotics by IV' if he wasn't satisfied with her improvement.  I came home this afternoon to go to the doctor with her, and I am blessed to be able to say that, before I could even get to the office, he had seen her and dismissed her, very pleased with her improvement.  I am so thankful that we're at home watching American Idol now and not at the hospital getting IV antibiotics!  Again, God is SO good!
Please continue to keep those wonderful prayers coming as Mom continues to heal and prepare for chemo and radiation.  We are clinging to our faith tighter than ever before right now, and we are beyond thankful for your continued love and support.  Please pray specifically for me, as well, as I try to focus on my end-of-the-year responsibilities at work.  I've got lots to do to close out the school year and get these sweet (and, yes, a few not-so-sweet) seniors graduated, and I need to be able to clear my head of cancer and focus on them a little.  Can I ask y'all one other favor?  If you think of Mom over the next few weeks or months, will you drop a card in the mail to her?  She's gotten wonderful cards and notes from so many special people, and they both cheer and inspire her, as well as continue to remind her of how many people love and pray for her.  She goes back and reads those words when she's having a hard day, so those special words lift her up again and again.  I know how much it would mean to her... and how much it would mean to me, too.
Thanks again to all of you for your constant thoughts and outpouring of love; keep lifting us up, dear friends!
All my love,

Clinging to the Cross

“What, then, shall we say in response to these things?  If God is for us, who can be against us?”—Romans 8:31
On this Easter Sunday, I am filled with the spirit of God more, perhaps, than any Easter Sunday before.  God has carried me through these past few days, weeks, and months, and, with His continued strength and reassurance, I hope to be able to withstand anything that comes.  Thusfar, 2012 has been a whirlwind, and my faith has often been the only thing keeping me grounded.
In case you’re lost and wondering just what I’m talking about, I’ll back up and start from the beginning.
On Martin Luther King, Jr. Day (January 16), my mom started having some irregular bleeding.  Having gone through menopause years earlier, this was immediately concerning, so she made an appointment with her local gynecologist.  She saw him on February 2, and he diagnosed her with fibroid tumors and said it was very possible the bleeding would stop on its own.  He wanted to see her back in 2 weeks to check the status of the bleeding and do a scrape of the lining of her uterus.  She returned to his office on February 16 for the scrape, but he was unable to get the sample he wanted.  So, he scheduled her for a D & C (Dilation and Curettage, a routine outpatient surgical procedure) on February 24, in order to obtain the needed sample of the lining of her uterus.  The procedure went smoothly, and we awaited her results.  Throughout all of this time, mom had no pain and the bleeding had ceased soon after her initial visit to her doctor.  We had speculated in our own minds that her doctor might recommend her having a hysterectomy over the summer.   On March 2, however, she went back to her doctor and received a diagnosis I had feared but not dared to speak:  endometrial (uterine) cancer.
Those two words hit me in the stomach with a one-two punch that took my breath away.  Cancer.  My brain could hardly process it.  The word just didn’t even feel right in my mouth—it tasted bad and begged to be spit out.  The world tilted a little in that instant, and it immediately became one of those before/after moments.   My life was one way before the diagnosis; my life is different now.
Her local gynecologist referred her on to a gynecological oncologist in Jackson, and an appointment was made with him for March 13.  Not only was that appointment made, actually, but she had an appointment the following day for surgery, as well—a total hysterectomy, including uterus, ovaries, lymph nodes and appendix, too.  (See why I feel like I’m in a whirlwind?)  So, on the morning of March 13, we traveled to Jackson and met with her oncologist.  As mom and I will both attest, walking into an oncologist’s office makes a cancer diagnosis awfully real.  Looking around the waiting room, I knew that everyone there was associated in some way with a cancerous diagnosis, and my heart broke for them just as I knew theirs broke for me.  Strangers upon entering, we all quickly realized we had more in common than we initially saw. 
We met with her doctor, whom we both instantly liked, and talked with him about the next day’s procedure as well as the possibilities for post-op treatment.  We left his office with detailed surgery-day instructions and spinning heads, but we were both eager to “get this show on the road.”  The surgery went well, and mom began her recovery.  Her doctor had hoped to be able to perform the surgery using the technologically-advanced da Vinci robot, but, because of the positioning of one of her ovaries, he had to do an incision.  That caused mom some additional discomfort as she began to heal from the operation, but we were, of course, in favor of him doing whatever he needed to do to get the cancer.  In addition, mom lost a good bit of blood during surgery (all of the nurses kept saying she had a “big surgery”), so, several days after her operation, she had to receive 2 units of blood.  We were released from the hospital on Monday, March 19, and headed home to Columbus (you can imagine how unpleasant that ride was).  After only being home a few days, I noticed that one of the incision spots looked a little infected, so I called her oncologist’s nurse practitioner to check it out with her.  She called mom in an antibiotic, which we started that day.  (It’s a running joke with mom and I (observed in her past surgical endeavors), that she can never do anything the easy way!!)  In the weeks since, she’s been resting and recovering and trying to regain a little bit of strength every day.  I’ve been coming home to help her every weekend, as she gets tired very easily.  I am, without a doubt, exhausted and practically dead on my feet much of the time, but I’m so thankful to be able to help her through this time and even more thankful for the strength God gives me to continue on. 
As it stands now, we await one final piece of the puzzle to know where her treatment will go from here.  We are still waiting on the pathology report from her surgery, as the lab has been backed up and her doctor wants to have time to thoroughly study the pre-op and post-op reports.  You can probably imagine how tortuous this waiting has been, but we cling to the knowledge that this too is part of God’s plan for both of our lives, and we know that, in perfect time, the next steps will be revealed.
I cannot thank you all enough for the calls, texts, emails, cards, visits, flowers, food, and, most of all, thoughts and prayers you’ve sent our way over the past weeks.  Your love and support has kept us going when things got too heavy, and we will never be able to express to you all how much it means.  I ask you to please continue to pray for us as we await the pathology report (which we hope to have Tuesday) and find out what, if any, will be the next step in mom’s treatment.  Seeing as the first symptom appeared not even 3 months ago, you can understand why our heads continue to spin when we really think about all that has come to pass so far this year.  We ask your prayers for strength, patience, thankfulness, and, perhaps most of all, trust in God’s perfect plan.  We fully believe that God is in control of all things, but worry and anxiety and discouragement inevitably try to creep in, and your kind words and fervent prayers help us fight those dark moments.  I will try to be more vigilant in updating the blog, but let me again say a huge THANK YOU for all you’ve done for us these past weeks!!
"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."--Jeremiah 29:11
To God be the Glory,

Keeping the Faith

As I'm sure almost everyone on the planet knows by now, massive tornadoes and storms ripped through the southeast yesterday.  My hometown of Columbus was blessed enough to have been spared any real damage this time, but the same cannot be said for large parts of Arkansas, Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia.  The death toll now stands at close to two hundred and is expected to continue to rise; entire towns have been, for the most part, leveled; people have lost everything they own.
Perhaps suffering the most devastating or widespread damage is Tuscaloosa, Alabama, a city barely sixty miles from Columbus.  I have gone shopping in Tuscaloosa for my whole life.  I have friends who attend the University of Alabama.  I have even submitted several applications for job openings in Tuscaloosa schools.  This was (and, I believe, will be again) a wonderful city.  Looking at the images and video today, though, I can't stop the tears from coming.

This is a before and after picture of a side street that intersects Fifteenth street in Tuscaloosa just before you arrive at the intersection of McFarland and Fifteenth, which is said to be one of the hardest hit areas of Tuscaloosa.  It sounds cliche, but you would never know you were looking at the same place.

From what I can tell, this looks to be the back/side of Midtown Village, but I honestly cannot be sure.

This is what the Krispy Kreme on McFarland looked like yesterday morning...

This is what is looks like this morning.

Directly across McFarland Boulevard from that Krispy Kreme stood a shopping center with a Hobby Lobby, Big Lots, etc inside.  You can now barely make out the Hobby Lobby letters in this structure's skeleton.  Also, I believe there was a fast food restaurant that stood in front of the shopping center, which now appears to be little more than a mound of cement blocks.

Finally, this image appears to have been taken from the intersection of Fifteenth and McFarland, looking toward Northport.  DCH Hospital is on the left, and that Krispy Kreme I showed above would have stood in the foreground of this picture.  For some reason, this image hits me extra hard.

My love and my prayers go out to all of those throughout the southeast who are trying to begin to pick up the pieces this morning.  I've survived a severe storm myself, but, although my house, car, and surrounding property suffered substantial damage, I can't begin to imagine what it must feel like to face devastation of this magnitude.  Where do you start?  How do you move from pile of debris to pile of debris, encountering memories and keepsakes and pieces of your life torn to shreds in every mound?  Where do you find the strength to attack that kind of undertaking?
I know for myself, with the trials my life has endured, I would be nothing without my faith.  All day yesterday when the threats of bad weather hung overhead and when, as the day turned to night, reports of the massive devastation began to be seen and heard, I could only take comfort in the fact that God, and our faith in Him, is a fortress that nothing, nothing can destroy.  Thinking about that and listening to this wonderful old hymn, gave me a little comfort.

A might fortress is our God,

A bulwark never failing;

Our helper He amid the flood

Of mortal ills prevailing.

For still our ancient foe

Doth seek to work us woe;

His craft and power are great,

And armed with cruel hate,

On Earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strengths confide,

Our striving would be losing,

Were not the right man on our side,

The man of God's own choosing.

Dost ask who that may be?

Christ Jesus, it is He;

Lord Sabaoth, His name,

From age to age the same,

And He must win the battle.

And though this world, with devils filled,

Should threaten to undo us,

We will not fear, for God hath willed

His truth to triumph through us.

The Prince of Darkness grim,

We tremble not for him;

His rage we an endure,

For lo, His doom is sure;

One little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly powers,

No thanks to them, abideth;

The spirit and the gifts are ours,

Thru Him who with us sideth.

Let good and kindred go,

This mortal life also;

The body they may kill;

God's truth abideth still;

His kingdom is forever.

I continue to pray for strength for those effected by this sometimes difficult to accept and almost impossible to understand display of God's power.  I pray for peace for those who are still missing loved ones, and I pray for determination for those who must begin today to rebuild their lives.  For all of us, I pray for faith.  Unending, unwavering, unconditional faith. 

Family Ties

"Love is stronger than death, even though it can't stop death from happening.  No matter how hard death tries it can't separate people from love.  It can't take away our memories, either.  In the end, life is stronger than death."--Author unknown
Tonight I am lifting up the Perkins family.  Since Spencer's tragic accident ten days ago, they have been forefront in my mind, and tonight is no different.  I am certainly not alone in sending up prayer after prayer for this family, for our entire community--and especially the Heritage Academy family--have been lifting them up together.
I can personally attest to the support, power, love, and strength of the Heritage family.  This group of people has been there for me and my own family time and time again.  After my dad's death; before, during, and after both of my mom's knee replacements and the complications that followed; and, at other times throughout my life--they've always been there.  Through my own highs and lows, successes and failures, they've been there every time.  Without their support and strength, I'm not sure I would have been able to withstand what was happening around me.
Once you're a member of the Heritage family, you're a member forever.  I started kindergarten at Heritage in the fall of 1990, and I've been a member of the Heritage family ever since.  Just because you graduate or move or leave for some reason doesn't mean you have to turn in your key; you're a part of this group forever.  I spent 13 years of my life walking those halls and formed lifelong friendships and connections there.  When I think of coming home to Columbus, the people I'm eager to see and catch up with are people that Heritage brought into my life.  Good or bad, for better or worse, I have a connection to the other members of my Heritage family, and it's a tie that cannot be severed.  Because we're small, we can't help but feel close-knit, and, when one of us is in trouble, we rally together in support.  Tonight the Perkins family needs our love and our support, our strength and our comfort, our thoughts and our prayers.
I know the coming days will be difficult for the Perkins, and I pray the intricacies of our daily life will not distract us from remembering how much they still need us.  Although Spencer was young, he made a huge impact on the people and the world around him, and there now exists an unfillable hole in the lives of many.  In unexpected tragedies such as this one, there is obviously no time to prepare for what is to come, which is, I think, both a blessing and a curse.  A blessing in that every moment of life up to the tragedy is lived fully; a curse in the sheer cruelty of unexpectedness.  Having endured this same type of unexpected tragedy myself, I can imagine some of the pain this family will face in the coming days, and I pray we will stay with them.  Love them, comfort them, and support them through our words, our touch, our presence, and, of course, our prayers.
To Mr. Tim, Mrs. Paula, Sparks, Sophie, and Sawyer:  know that we are with you.  We love and cherish you as if you are members of our own family, for that is really what you are.  You are treasured members of the Heritage Academy family, and we wouldn't be the same without you.  We'll hold you up until you regain your strength, and we'll keep Spencer's memory alive in our hearts.  Keep him alive in yours, too.  Talk about him, laugh about him, cry about him, remember him.  His time on Earth is through, but the impact he made can never be erased.  We love you; we're here for you; we're praying for you.
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."--Psalm 34:18

Good Night, and Good Luck

Today was moving day. 
Everything was packed into boxes and hauled away in the moving truck... only to be unloaded 25 miles away in my storage unit--home to my belongings for the next year.  In all honesty, I am a mix of emotions leaving my apartment behind.  I know it wasn't much, but it was the first place in this world that was wholly mine, and I am going to miss being there.  I will miss sitting on my back porch and looking at the stars; I will miss sprawling diagonally across my bed with a good book;  I will miss my pictures on the wall; I will miss lounging on the couch storytelling and drinking wine with friends; I will miss decorating for Christmas; I will miss my flowers.  I can do all of these things at my mother's house, of course, but it won't be quite the same.  I will not miss, however, sweating to death in the kitchen and/or bathroom no matter what the time of year or the temperature; I will not miss the overly sensitive smoke alarm; I will not miss a closet the size of a postage stamp. 
Today I laughed to keep from crying, and looked forward instead of glancing back in the rearview mirror.  Just when I think I have everything figured out and compartmentalized perfectly, life, inevitably, changes again.  It's funny like that, isn't it?

In the little taupe room

There was a television

And a few spots of maroon

And a picture of...

Three friends standing under a beautiful moon

And there were teddy bears and black and white chairs

And a number of candles and a pair of sandals

And a cabinet of red and a wrought-iron bed

And a book and a brush and a note from a crush

And a quiet young lady who was whispering "hush"

Goodnight room

Goodnight room

Goodnight friends standing under the moon

Goodnight light and the spots of maroon

Goodnight bears

Goodnight chairs

Goodnight candles and goodnight sandals

Goodnight clocks and goodnight socks

Goodnight cabinet of red and goodnight bed

Goodnight book and goodnight brush

Goodnight nobody

Goodnight crush

And goodnight to the young lady whispering "hush"

Goodnight stars

Goodnight air

Goodnight noises everywhere

Catching Up

Hey, friends.
I'm still here; I'm just crazy busy these days taking care of my mom.
I just wanted to share a quick update on my mom's post-surgery progress and ask for a very specific prayer request. 
Monday will mark the four-week mark since her surgery, and in those four weeks we have been riding one wild coaster.  During these weeks, we've made a middle-of-the-night trip to the emergency room, battled excessive swelling, fought down a fever, and dealt with some other bumps in the road.  We have been to the doctor's office several times, and many tears have been shed between the two of us.
We are still fighting one battle, though, and for that I ask your very specific prayers.  Forgive my somewhat graphic request, but here goes.  She is still having tiny pinpricks of blood from her incision, and, until those stop, we cannot continue with physical therapy and her recovery.  I know it might sound minimal or silly, but we have been stopped from progressing for six days now due to this bleeding, and we are both fighting frustration and discouragement at every turn. 
Some days it seems like we take two steps forward and three steps back, and it just almost seems to be too much sometimes. 
She's so strong and wants so badly to be invested in physical therapy and getting back to the routine of her life, but, for some reason, that's not the plan God is following at the moment.  I ask you to pray for not only the stopping of this tiny bit of bleeding but also our patience and acceptance for God's timetable instead of our own.
Your prayers keep me strong, and your friendship means the world.
All my love,

A Test of Faith

The past eight days have been one test of faith after another, filled with highs and lows, triumphs and stumbling blocks, smiles and tears. 
That's life, though, in its purest form, I suppose.
My mom is doing well, but we have had a few trials and anxious moments that have left me on my knees.  We have listened to the same CD of hymns about thirty-eight times, and I have talked long with God throughout each of these days.
The long is road ahead of us, but we are trying to pray through the pain, laugh through the tears, and look for the positive anywhere we can find it.  It's not always easy, and we sometimes fall to discouragement, but we're putting our faith in Him and putting those hymns on repeat once again.
My faith has been tested yet again and come out even stronger.

"Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow... Great is thy faithfulness, Lord unto me."

The Power of Prayer

Dear Friends,
"Jesus answered them, 'Do you now believe? Indeed the hour is coming, yes, has now come, that you will be scattered, each to his own, and will leave Me alone. And yet I am not alone, because the Father is with Me. These things I have spoken to you, that in Me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation; but be of good cheer, I have overcome the world.'"--John 16:31-33
Exactly one year ago, my mom underwent surgery for a total knee replacement.  The surgery was incredibly successful, but she had a small snag the night of her surgery that put her into the ICU for a day.  After that big scare (which ended up being rather easily treated, thankfully), her recuperation and physical therapy was grueling and physically difficult, but she attacked every day with amazing strength--physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual.
I was with her throughout the process last year and, in fact, slept on the couch in the same room with my mom for ten weeks.  We went through the whole process together; each mountain was climbed together, each victory celebrated together.
Shortly after the physical therapy ended last summer, we began to talk of the surgery for her other total knee replacement.  Tomorrow morning--exactly one year later--she will enter the hospital for that surgery, and we will start the entire process all over again. 
As I write this to you tonight, I am a mix of emotions.
I am ready to get this process started and get this show on the road.  We have been gearing up for this for months, finalizing little details for weeks, and scribbling on post-its for last minute reminders for the last few days.  I am geared up, and I feel prepared, and I'm ready to get this ball rolling.
I am excited for the opportunities that could come into her life with this surgery.  I want her to be physically strong and whole again.  Every day over the past year, I've witnessed how much she's improved, but I've also seen how much she needs this other replacement.  I don't want any setbacks or hiccups to hinder or stall her recovery.  
I am confident in her whole medical team--surgeon and assisting doctors, nurses, physical therapists, and everyone in between.  I believe they are well-trained and capable, and they will bring the best care to her they have the power to provide.
I am hugely scared of history repeating itself and us hitting a snag again.  It's kind of a double-edged sword:  everytime I see her in pain, it hurts me, but it also reminds me of last year's bad memories, and both cut straight to my heart.  I've been pushing these scary thoughts away for twelve months--hiding them behind music, movies, books, schoolwork, and moments of laughter--but they've always been lurking just below the surface, and I can't push them away anymore.  The closer we've come to the surgery, I've had frequent insomnia, I occasionally wake up drenched in sweat, and sometimes I have terrifying nightmares.  I don't have doubts about the surgery and the process, I am just scared.  I had the normal fears that accompany any surgery last year; this time my memories are haunting me. 
Up until about a week ago, I was really scared all the time, and I wasn't sure how I was going to survive this final week.  I thought about it constantly, and I was terrified of the things that were constantly running through my head.  I started praying about it all the time and, when I would get particularly frightened, go through the words of hymns in my head.  Some of my favorite go-to's were/are The Old Rugged Cross, A Mighty Fortress is Our God, His Eye is on the Sparrow, Great is Thy Faithfulness, and, when all else fails, The Lord's Prayer.  Here are a few of my favorite lines from A Mighty Fortress, my favorite hymn:
"And though this world, with devils filled,
Should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed,
His truth to triumph through us."
Earlier this week, though, a sort of peace came over me that I know came from Him. I have been able to sleep well, and I've been able to put the thoughts that scare me most out of my head, for the most part at least. My mom and I have laughed and talked of things beside the surgery; we have both been able to have a happy week. My prayers have been answered, and I have been reminded, for about the zillionth time, how great God truly is.
"I will say of the Lord 'He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.'"--Psalm 92:2
I am, of course, still scared as we sit just hours in front of my mom's surgery, but I am leaning heavily on Him.  I know that His will will be done, and I know that I cannot possibly control or handle this situation on my own; I can't really do much of anything without His help, actually.
"Whenever I am afraid, I will trust in You. In God (I will praise His word), In God I have put my trust; I will not fear. What can flesh do to me?"--Psalm 56:3-4
I ask, of course, for your prayers and thoughts for my mom and I throughout this process--especially tomorrow and through this week we'll stay at the hospital.  It's just my mom and I, so everything she goes through is something I go through, as well.  I know she's anxious for things to go smoothly, as well, so your prayers to calm her nerves (and mine!) would certainly be appreciated.  Y'all constantly blow me away with your love, support, patience, understanding, and listening ears, and I am honored to count you all as my friends.  Your prayers and thoughts mean the world to me.
"For He shall give His angels charge over you, to keep you in all your ways. In their hands they shall bear you up, lest you dash your foot against a stone."--Psalm 91:11-12
As I close this out and get ready for bed, my hands are shaking, and I know I am on edge.  My mom cried as I told her goodnight, and I know we will both be changed people in a few days when some of this weight has been lifted.  I pray the Lord will calm her nerves to ready her for surgery and clear her head so she can rest tonight
"Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus."--Philippians 4:6-7
Last year it was about a month post-operation before I was able to post again, so I don't know when we'll meet again. I love you all, and I thank you so much for what you mean in my life. I'll see you when I see you--
All my love,

Power In Me

Y'all know how goofy I get about the stuff I'm studying sometimes, but I saw something in class today that I just had to show y'all. This video might be the single most powerful instrument I've ever seen to demonstrate the powerful influence adults have on children.
It seems to me that, in many cases, kids today have the deck stacked against them from the start, and when their parents are not providing the appropriate guidance and positive examples they need, they are practically guaranteed to end up in a bad place.
Anyway, just check the video out if you're so inclined. I'm looking at a future in education, and even I forget sometimes how easily children are influenced. The images in this video gave me chills, and its impact will undoubtedly stay with me for a long time.
It's pretty powerful... but you don't have to take my word for it.

This is My Confession

Here lies a truth of which I am wholly ashamed.
There have been times in my life I thought I had all the friends I needed. In fact, I know I have said this out loud. It probably went something like, "I'm not really in the market for new friends" or "Nah... I've got all the friends I need at the moment." I was probably laughing when I said it, but I know myself well enough to say that there was probably truth behind that laughter.
However, I'm not laughing now. I'm actually looking back in shame.
I came to this realization through a conversation my mom and I were having yesterday. We were talking about all of the phenomenal people we have come in contact with throughout the ongoing process of her surgery and therapy, and I was blindsided by the recognition that took place in my mind. Without the encouragement, openness, understanding, tolerance, patience, and positive energy of the people we have come into contact with, this experience would have been unbearable, and discouragement would have rained down upon us.
We have met cheerleaders and encouragers at every turn, however, and I credit much of the success of the past five weeks to them.
These people were merely doing their jobs, you might say. However, if any of you have had even the most minimal of experiences with the health care industry, you know that a nurturing bedside manner is not a prerequisite for entering the field. Just like most other arenas, sour attitudes, unhelpfulness, bitterness, and resenment abound. Instead of being the norm, however, these troublesome individuals ended up being the anomalies, the exceptions to the most pleasant of rules.
We have been blessed with some of the most skilled doctors, caring nurses, knowledgeable and capable therapists, and, of course, steadfast friends and family. The majority of people we come have come into contact with over the past five weeks are people we have never seen before, and they don't know us from Adam's house cat. That hasn't changed the fact, however, that they have given us their best and their all; they have dared to care in a world where all too often caring falls by the wasteside in exchange for an extra dollar or an immediate gain.
Now, back to my original confession. Where do I get off saying that I am not in the market for new friends? Just who, exactly, do I think I am? I have met tens if not hundreds of new people in the past weeks, and the kindness and helpfulness of each of them has impacted my life in a positive way. It is an honor and a privilege to now call them my friends. My mom was simply a name on a chart and I her emergency contact person. We are no one special and deserve no special treatment. The individuals we have come into contact with, however, have treated us as if we were their only patients, as if they had all the time in the world to answer our multitudes of questions, as if they were there to help no one but us--even though each minute they spent with us was one more minute away from someone else. I consider myself blessed to have been in their presence, and I will take a piece of each of them away from this experience with me. I will always remember them fondly, and I will forever look to them for inspiration.
I know I will glean many more lessons from this experience, but I have already learned a big one. There are new friends to be had at every turn and friendliness truly can change the world, one person at a time. They come in all shapes, sizes, colors, ages, and walks of life; not being open to these new relationships only proves detriemental for me. I am the one missing out. My thinking has now been forever changed, and I am ready and waiting for any new friends who will have me.
It looks as though Blanche DuBois really did have it right when she said in A Streetcar Named Desire, "I have always depended on the kindness of strangers." I should have known better than to go against the likes of Tennessee Williams.
Or Vivien Leigh, for that matter.

Before and After

Often when big events happen in life, I find myself looking at things in a before and after mentality. Looking back into my memory, things get categorized into one part of the dichotomy or the other. Before graduation and after graduation; before dad died and after dad died; before I went to college and after I went to college; before I went to grad school and after I went to grad school. Do you know what I mean? Well, I have added a new one of late: before mom's surgery and after mom's surgery.
Three weeks ago today, mom went to the hospital for a knee replacement. If you had asked me before the surgery, I don't really know that I could have told you what I expected "after the surgery" to be like. I don't think I had any idea, for "after the surgery" was such an abstract concept.
I am, however, relatively certain that I could have named a number of things that I didn't expect. I didn't expect to spend a stint in the ICU. I didn't expect to be so scared I thought I would be physically sick. I didn't expect to see God's presence in the faces of the hospital nurses. I didn't expect to take on these mountains of responsibility and still be able to keep a smile on my face (most of the time). I didn't expect to watch over my mother in the night while she's sleeping, as if our roles had been reversed. I didn't expect to have the physical and mental strength to play a major part in my mother's physical therapy. I didn't expect to be able to withstand pushing her to tears almost everyday. I didn't expect to spend a chunk of my day having a devotion with my mom and reading novels out loud to her; I didn't expect to cherish that time so much. I didn't expect to lean so heavily on my friends and family. I didn't expect to be so overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support that has met me at every turn. I didn't know what to expect, but I certainly didn't expect this.
I am unbelievably proud of my mother and the improvement she is making everyday. I know she is in worlds of pain, and she is not afraid to make that known. She cries when it gets to be too much, but she never gives up. These weeks have not been easy on either of us, but she is the one who is being forced to endure the physical pain of it all, and I'm so proud of all that she is doing. My mom is unbelievably strong, and she impresses me every single day. I ask you to continue praying for her physical and emotional strength through this process, for she still has a long road of recovery ahead of her.
Thank you so much for all of your thoughts and prayers throughout these weeks. I've felt each one of them, and I could never convey how much they have meant. Your love and support keep us going.