It wasn't the same place, but it sounded the same. It even smelled the same. How odd.
There was the familiar "ding, ding, ding", the scurry of people from one place to another, monitors with lines and numbers - but this time I understood what it all meant.
At 16 years old I entered this world few ever see, and fewer understand. I was rolled into this web of noise and technology, feeling very, very small and totally overwhelmed, and not at all prepared for what I was about to see. In the midst of all the noise, the tubes, and the wires, was a tiny 2 pound living baby. Honestly, she didn't look much like a baby at that point - at least not the Gerber baby on the baby food jar, or the ones they have in those "getting ready to have a baby" books. She was so tiny, so skinny, and red. The world had stopped completely. Nothing else existed for a few minutes, and nothing else mattered for quite a while after.
I very kind nurse named Renee' spent time explaining all that was going on as I tried to take it all in. Tried to believe what she was telling me, that every time her alarm went off didn't really mean she was about to die. It was all so profound in the moment. The fragility of life, the total lack of control I had over it. It was a very weird mix of fear and wonder.
Now, 18 or so years later, I was back. Right off the bat I knew faces of people who had taken care of me and my teeny one 18 years ago. Familiar and comforting. I knew I would meet again the one who treated my child as her own special child 18 years earlier. Who kept her up at night, worried over her, kept her alive and knew her name and her story as well or better than I did. Her primary nurse, Rodna.
One might think that I would have understood the first time how blessed I was, how much God had watched over my child, how His hand was necessary for her growth and healing. Nope! "Young and dumb" I tell you! It wasn't until I saw through the eyes of a nurse, my very own "RN" eyes that the enormity of the miracle I raised became very very clear. It wasn't until I discussed terrible blood gas results, tried for the third time to wean a baby off a vent, "saved" a baby from an apnea spell again that I realized how much prayer mattered and how much more than a job it was to take care of these little ones. My understanding of the power of prayer grew, my repsect for the NICU family of nurses grew the longer I was one. The more I knew, the more I marveled.
On Mother's day I am reminded to continuously pray for the ladies and gentlemen who fight bravely every day for the littlest ones. Who love "their" babies as long as they have them and then let them go. Lord, thank You for the team of people who cared for my baby when she was too tiny to breathe on her own, who loved her and tried to teach me. Thank You for the team of people who still do that every day. Thank You for allowing me to work there for a while and for allowing me to leave there to do something else. Thank You for watching over my little one so that she could grow up to be a wonderful young lady and great mother. Thank You for the million miracles I didn't see, and for showing me just a few. In Jesus name - amen
Monday, May 12, 2014
Monday, April 28, 2014
Just to be in His presence
Many years after I had given my heart to Jesus, my faith had to grow up. I had to walk again through the questions and solidify my answers. Was Jesus who He said He was, did He love me, and on and on. It took a few months to get through it, and when I was at the end of the "questioning" I was more solid than I had ever been.
For years I had sought God, accepted Him, felt Him guide me, but had never really experienced Him in a tangible way. Then there was the day that changed.
I was going through a very, very difficult battle in my life. My marriage was in trouble and my whole world was just shaking. I am so very thankful for the couple of women in my life that helped me navigate that season in my life, and thankful that God provided in my hour of need.
Within that season there were many spiritual battles, battles of faith, battles of trusting God no matter what I saw with my own eyes. I had cried out to God, and He had heard my cry. He never left me, He walked me through difficult times. I knew that God wanted our marriage to be healed, I knew it was a safe bet to ask for His help restoring a marriage that in our youth we had both abused and beat up! But, that didn't mean I would get my way.
After months of walking in very difficult circumstances, of waiting, of trusting, of taking one step at a time - there came this day. The day I laid in my bed, late at night - too late to call any friend, and I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't breathe. I was just done. I was battle weary and felt very much alone in a big, big world.
I did something I had never done before. I cried out to God. I didn't speak one of those perfect little public church prayers, I didn't try to find the right words, I didn't pretty it up, I just cried out to God. In my mind, because waking up 4 small children is not helpful, I cried out in total desperation - God, I can't do this anymore, I can't do it. I am afraid, I am alone, I don't know how to keep walking Your way, I can't fix this, I need pea . . . ce. Instant, total, all encompassing peace - from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. Nothing prepared me for that moment. It was instant, and it was more than enough. God had heard my cry and answered my prayer, the messy one, the honest one. He had given me instant peace and I fell instantly to sleep in the warmest feeling I have ever felt in my life.
God showed up and became very personal to me that night. God is good, even when I can't feel Him. But Ohhhhhhh, how precious it is to feel Him wrap His arms around me when I need it the most.
For years I had sought God, accepted Him, felt Him guide me, but had never really experienced Him in a tangible way. Then there was the day that changed.
I was going through a very, very difficult battle in my life. My marriage was in trouble and my whole world was just shaking. I am so very thankful for the couple of women in my life that helped me navigate that season in my life, and thankful that God provided in my hour of need.
Within that season there were many spiritual battles, battles of faith, battles of trusting God no matter what I saw with my own eyes. I had cried out to God, and He had heard my cry. He never left me, He walked me through difficult times. I knew that God wanted our marriage to be healed, I knew it was a safe bet to ask for His help restoring a marriage that in our youth we had both abused and beat up! But, that didn't mean I would get my way.
After months of walking in very difficult circumstances, of waiting, of trusting, of taking one step at a time - there came this day. The day I laid in my bed, late at night - too late to call any friend, and I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't breathe. I was just done. I was battle weary and felt very much alone in a big, big world.
I did something I had never done before. I cried out to God. I didn't speak one of those perfect little public church prayers, I didn't try to find the right words, I didn't pretty it up, I just cried out to God. In my mind, because waking up 4 small children is not helpful, I cried out in total desperation - God, I can't do this anymore, I can't do it. I am afraid, I am alone, I don't know how to keep walking Your way, I can't fix this, I need pea . . . ce. Instant, total, all encompassing peace - from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. Nothing prepared me for that moment. It was instant, and it was more than enough. God had heard my cry and answered my prayer, the messy one, the honest one. He had given me instant peace and I fell instantly to sleep in the warmest feeling I have ever felt in my life.
God showed up and became very personal to me that night. God is good, even when I can't feel Him. But Ohhhhhhh, how precious it is to feel Him wrap His arms around me when I need it the most.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
learning grace
I grew up know God. I grew up learning His character, His word, His love.
I understood what it meant for God to love me, that His "rules" were for my own good, that He wanted nothing but the best for His child.
You would think that would mean I would follow Him all the days of my life and do the right thing all the time. Yeah, well, didn't really happen that way.
I decided one day that I was tired of being the goody-two-shoes. I was done living this life that people expected me to live. I wanted to decide for myself what right and wrong looked like. I just didn't think there was anything so wrong with this list of stuff that everyone was always so afraid of. I just wanted to live my own life!
So, I started to wander. Not wonder, wander. I set out to do my own thing. I was pretty sure I was walking away from God, but I didn't feel like I was going to Hell. I mean, I did still believe that Jesus died for me, and that He was who He said He was. I just didn't want Him telling me what to do anymore. Him, my mom, my husband - nobody.
I dabbled in things that were always off limits before. I rationalized how it wasn't really "sin". Don't ask me why it mattered whether it was "sin" or not since I was making my own rules, I couldn't say. I watched things that aren't fit for anyone to watch, I read things that aren't good for anyone's heart. I went out with the wrong kind of friends, I drank a bit, I did really really stupid things. I made one bad decision after another. I rationalized them all. "I am not really doing anything wrong here". "The Bible doesn't specifically say not to do this."
And then, it happened. I crossed the line. I did something that was spelled out in the Bible not to do. It was a biggie. Not a little thing. No way to rationalize this, it was black and white and even I knew it was wrong beyond the shadow of a doubt, over the line, bad. Somehow, while trying to "be my own boss" I was trying to squeeze in as much fun and frivolity as possible into the grey areas of right and wrong. I was trying to have my own brand of fun and still be able to not call it sin, so I wouldn't be responsible for it. That was not going to happen here. I was busted!
Oh, the realization of sin. Oh, how I looked into my black, black soul and saw nothing of what I
expected. There was no excuse, no way to rationalize. It was sin, pure and simple with all the ugly repercussions that I didn't want and couldn't control.
I was, at that moment, sure that God would turn His back and leave me to rot in my own cess pool. He could never love me as I was now. This was the sin, this one was it. I had gone too far, ran too long, couldn't trust him too many times. I was sure that the voice in my head would be quiet now. The one that would nudge me to stop, draw me to call a Christian friend, ask me "are you sure?". I was positive that I had done the thing that would make Him leave me.
Nope. "My child, I love you. Please come rest in Me." Those are the words the Spirit spoke to me. "I still love you, I am still here."
What?! You are still here? Even after I . . . "I love you." But why?! why? I am so messed up! "I love you."
I understood what it meant for God to love me, that His "rules" were for my own good, that He wanted nothing but the best for His child.
You would think that would mean I would follow Him all the days of my life and do the right thing all the time. Yeah, well, didn't really happen that way.
I decided one day that I was tired of being the goody-two-shoes. I was done living this life that people expected me to live. I wanted to decide for myself what right and wrong looked like. I just didn't think there was anything so wrong with this list of stuff that everyone was always so afraid of. I just wanted to live my own life!
So, I started to wander. Not wonder, wander. I set out to do my own thing. I was pretty sure I was walking away from God, but I didn't feel like I was going to Hell. I mean, I did still believe that Jesus died for me, and that He was who He said He was. I just didn't want Him telling me what to do anymore. Him, my mom, my husband - nobody.
I dabbled in things that were always off limits before. I rationalized how it wasn't really "sin". Don't ask me why it mattered whether it was "sin" or not since I was making my own rules, I couldn't say. I watched things that aren't fit for anyone to watch, I read things that aren't good for anyone's heart. I went out with the wrong kind of friends, I drank a bit, I did really really stupid things. I made one bad decision after another. I rationalized them all. "I am not really doing anything wrong here". "The Bible doesn't specifically say not to do this."
And then, it happened. I crossed the line. I did something that was spelled out in the Bible not to do. It was a biggie. Not a little thing. No way to rationalize this, it was black and white and even I knew it was wrong beyond the shadow of a doubt, over the line, bad. Somehow, while trying to "be my own boss" I was trying to squeeze in as much fun and frivolity as possible into the grey areas of right and wrong. I was trying to have my own brand of fun and still be able to not call it sin, so I wouldn't be responsible for it. That was not going to happen here. I was busted!
Oh, the realization of sin. Oh, how I looked into my black, black soul and saw nothing of what I
expected. There was no excuse, no way to rationalize. It was sin, pure and simple with all the ugly repercussions that I didn't want and couldn't control.
I was, at that moment, sure that God would turn His back and leave me to rot in my own cess pool. He could never love me as I was now. This was the sin, this one was it. I had gone too far, ran too long, couldn't trust him too many times. I was sure that the voice in my head would be quiet now. The one that would nudge me to stop, draw me to call a Christian friend, ask me "are you sure?". I was positive that I had done the thing that would make Him leave me.
Nope. "My child, I love you. Please come rest in Me." Those are the words the Spirit spoke to me. "I still love you, I am still here."
What?! You are still here? Even after I . . . "I love you." But why?! why? I am so messed up! "I love you."
Thursday, April 3, 2014
April 3, 2014
Tonight, I thought I was doing a friend a favor.
A few weeks ago, a friend stopped in at the end of praise team practice when all the hard work was done and we were doing what I really love to do best - sitting around the keyboard, piddling, singing songs that we like, relaxed, and comfortable with just singing and listening. He asked if we would be interested in singing for his church which was starting to have church on Thursdays. Just come in, do what we were doing there, and let them sing with us.
A quick survey of nods, and we agreed.
I don't know how to say this and make it sound good, because there probably isn't a way to do that.
I love working together to bring music to the church services at my church. I love it. I love trying to get people to a place where they see a glimpse of God's character in some way clear enough for their heart to open up a little farther and experience Him a little more. But the logistics of it all can be exhausting. There are a lot of details, a lot of practice, a lot more worry than I should allow myself. It can't just be songs I like, it can't just be slow ones, or just fast ones etc.
So, back to the story. I thought I was doing a friend a favor.
I wasn't able to be there right at the time I had asked everyone to meet me. I couldn't figure out how to fit the keyboard in my civic, with the stand, the stool, the music stand etc. I was still babysitting at 5:45. My son, who is normally the set-up guy for the cords and wires for the keyboard and a strong tenor voice was sick and out of commission. But God show His love for me a million times a day and many of those are in the details!
So, first - Brit - my partner in this praise team leading - came by early and asked if she could go ahead and take the keyboard for me since I was running late and she had a van. Ha ha - thank God!
She thought to ask about the stool and the music stand or they would have been left behind. And off she went with most of the stuff.
Second - I arrived 10 minutes late (not to church, just for set up) to the whole thing already connected up and playable. Thanks Joe and thank You again God!
Believe it or not, talking makes me nervous. I worry about talking too long, saying something silly etc. But, I walked into this place feeling free to speak, free to sing, free to worship, free to lead worship. I think that's funny I think God should be the worship leader. We should just be the followers!
Either way, I realized that God called me and a group of friends tonight to do a favor for a friend so He could bless me! It may not have been the only reason, but it was definitely one of them. I needed to sit in a place that was already free and experience freedom again. I needed to feel sure that for this moment I was doing what I was called to do. I needed to hear encouragement from the congregation. Amen, glory, yes, . . . I needed to feel less pressure. I needed to just relax and worship and just know that everyone would follow as I did.
God knew what I needed. He knew how much I needed tonight. He knew that a tiny little church could bless my socks off tonight by just being willing to follow where the Spirit of God led them. And, he knew that the whole praise team would be blessed by being a part of it. I hope they were, because I was!
I know that I am in the local church body that I am called to, doing what I am called to do, but it is nice when the greater body of Christ works together as they should. The Spirit of God is easily recognizable no matter what name is on the door.
A few weeks ago, a friend stopped in at the end of praise team practice when all the hard work was done and we were doing what I really love to do best - sitting around the keyboard, piddling, singing songs that we like, relaxed, and comfortable with just singing and listening. He asked if we would be interested in singing for his church which was starting to have church on Thursdays. Just come in, do what we were doing there, and let them sing with us.
A quick survey of nods, and we agreed.
I don't know how to say this and make it sound good, because there probably isn't a way to do that.
I love working together to bring music to the church services at my church. I love it. I love trying to get people to a place where they see a glimpse of God's character in some way clear enough for their heart to open up a little farther and experience Him a little more. But the logistics of it all can be exhausting. There are a lot of details, a lot of practice, a lot more worry than I should allow myself. It can't just be songs I like, it can't just be slow ones, or just fast ones etc.
So, back to the story. I thought I was doing a friend a favor.
I wasn't able to be there right at the time I had asked everyone to meet me. I couldn't figure out how to fit the keyboard in my civic, with the stand, the stool, the music stand etc. I was still babysitting at 5:45. My son, who is normally the set-up guy for the cords and wires for the keyboard and a strong tenor voice was sick and out of commission. But God show His love for me a million times a day and many of those are in the details!
So, first - Brit - my partner in this praise team leading - came by early and asked if she could go ahead and take the keyboard for me since I was running late and she had a van. Ha ha - thank God!
She thought to ask about the stool and the music stand or they would have been left behind. And off she went with most of the stuff.
Second - I arrived 10 minutes late (not to church, just for set up) to the whole thing already connected up and playable. Thanks Joe and thank You again God!
Believe it or not, talking makes me nervous. I worry about talking too long, saying something silly etc. But, I walked into this place feeling free to speak, free to sing, free to worship, free to lead worship. I think that's funny I think God should be the worship leader. We should just be the followers!
Either way, I realized that God called me and a group of friends tonight to do a favor for a friend so He could bless me! It may not have been the only reason, but it was definitely one of them. I needed to sit in a place that was already free and experience freedom again. I needed to feel sure that for this moment I was doing what I was called to do. I needed to hear encouragement from the congregation. Amen, glory, yes, . . . I needed to feel less pressure. I needed to just relax and worship and just know that everyone would follow as I did.
God knew what I needed. He knew how much I needed tonight. He knew that a tiny little church could bless my socks off tonight by just being willing to follow where the Spirit of God led them. And, he knew that the whole praise team would be blessed by being a part of it. I hope they were, because I was!
I know that I am in the local church body that I am called to, doing what I am called to do, but it is nice when the greater body of Christ works together as they should. The Spirit of God is easily recognizable no matter what name is on the door.
Thursday, March 27, 2014
Even at a young age . . .
When I was very small, I remember hearing my mother tell the story of her birth. You see, she was born at home to a woman who was old enough to fear that she had cancer more than she thought that she might be pregnant. My mother was born "blue". She wasn't breathing at all. But, my grandmother was in her 40s and not doing well. The doctor set to work on my grandmother and set my mother to the side, giving her up.
Someone in the family was a nurse and happened to see a commotion and stopped by the house. I believe her name was Mary. She picked Mom up, took her outside on the porch and started to work with her. Obviously, my mother started breathing.
Now, I took one thing from this story - God must have had some plan for my mother.
I took all of that in and pondered it around the same time that I would have my own peril to face. At the age of 4 and a half, I would be having heart surgery. I knew that it was a big deal and I wanted to be sure I knew who this God was and He knew who I was. I was sure he would need to know me to help me be alright in surgery. I understood that I had done wrong things in my life. I understood that God demanded perfection and I was not perfect. I understood that Jesus was the only way I could be assured that if I didn't make it through surgery, I would at least be in heaven. I wasn't scared, I just knew.
So, at the ripe old age of 4 and a half, I gave my heart to Jesus. I was baptized, I was ready for whatever came my way.
So, I went into surgery knowing Jesus and knowing that I was not alone. I truly knew that. Didn't keep me from crying my head off when they turned the corner away from my mother.
Just for the record Pittsburgh Children's Hospital was a great place to be if one had to be somewhere. Mr. Rogers was on the board of directors, people were friendly, and I only remember being in pain twice. Once for the IV, which wasn't too bad and once when I had to move my arms to be able to get out of ICU. Not bad for major surgery! One surgery, a few scars, a few years of follow-up visits, and then clean bill of health. God truly did watch over me!
Someone in the family was a nurse and happened to see a commotion and stopped by the house. I believe her name was Mary. She picked Mom up, took her outside on the porch and started to work with her. Obviously, my mother started breathing.
Now, I took one thing from this story - God must have had some plan for my mother.
I took all of that in and pondered it around the same time that I would have my own peril to face. At the age of 4 and a half, I would be having heart surgery. I knew that it was a big deal and I wanted to be sure I knew who this God was and He knew who I was. I was sure he would need to know me to help me be alright in surgery. I understood that I had done wrong things in my life. I understood that God demanded perfection and I was not perfect. I understood that Jesus was the only way I could be assured that if I didn't make it through surgery, I would at least be in heaven. I wasn't scared, I just knew.
So, at the ripe old age of 4 and a half, I gave my heart to Jesus. I was baptized, I was ready for whatever came my way.
So, I went into surgery knowing Jesus and knowing that I was not alone. I truly knew that. Didn't keep me from crying my head off when they turned the corner away from my mother.
Just for the record Pittsburgh Children's Hospital was a great place to be if one had to be somewhere. Mr. Rogers was on the board of directors, people were friendly, and I only remember being in pain twice. Once for the IV, which wasn't too bad and once when I had to move my arms to be able to get out of ICU. Not bad for major surgery! One surgery, a few scars, a few years of follow-up visits, and then clean bill of health. God truly did watch over me!
Why post my testimony?
There are so many stories in my life where God has shown up and held my hand and walked me through or carried me through. There are so many people who don't see God in their daily lives, who struggle to know if He's real and tangible, or who just refuse to admit that He could have anything to do with them. In certain periods in my life, God has been VERY tangible to me. I just think it would be nice to share those to encourage people.
This will be my life, I may change the names to protect the guilty, but I will not change the truth of the story. Some of them are funny, most of them are just life through my eyes and with my Savior. I hope they help someone who needs it.
These will come one at a time, as I have time. Sorry no story today.
This will be my life, I may change the names to protect the guilty, but I will not change the truth of the story. Some of them are funny, most of them are just life through my eyes and with my Savior. I hope they help someone who needs it.
These will come one at a time, as I have time. Sorry no story today.
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