Without our Struggles, We Would Not Recognize Our Blessings

Every year my dad's side of the family participates in a non-traditional Christmas gathering. We all gather at a hotel and the kids go swimming while the adults play games, catch up on the year's events and eat way too much of the many dishes that get carried in. It rarely takes place right at Christmas, but usually sometime after all the "Christmasing" has wound down. It's usually a nice farewell to the holidays and a neat start to the new year. However, the last three years have been some what of a challenge for Logan and if I let it, it leaves me feeling sorry for him.

Two years ago Logan woke up with a rash from head to toe. He was visibly miserable and we were perplexed by what may have caused his skin to be so irritated. We left as soon as he woke. Last year Logan had an ear infection and could not get in the pool. After 30 minutes of non stop crying because he did not understand why every kid but him was enjoying the splashing fun, we decided it was best for everyone if we took him home. This year promised to be better. He was healthy and ready, in fact overjoyed, to get to go swimming. So, not ten minutes after we arrived, he was in the pool. He swam and swam and swam. Got out for supper and then, swam and swam some more. He just could not get enough. However, as bedtime approached it became apparent that all that fun of swimming would come with a price. He once again broke out in a rash from head to toe, welts on his face, and his lips were swelling by the second. So, some Benadryl and a phone call later we were once again headed home.

Sometimes I wonder why it can't be easy once in a while. It seems at times that fun for Logan always comes with a price. Usually exhaustion which leads to a seizure (which we think he had at some point also during his allergic reaction). It just seems that it is always something. I want him to be able to enjoy the things that all kids enjoy without the fear of what may be lurking around the corner to affect his health. I try not to let these moments of pity stay long and he usually bounces back quicker than I do. However, I fear the day is coming when he will ponder it a little longer, hate it a little more, and that is the day I dread.

I hope and pray that we are raising Logan in a way that he feels proud of who he is. I pray that he will be defined not by a disability or diagnosis, but by his loving personality and pleasant charm. I hope that he will not see himself as someone who struggles to use the left side of his body, but as someone who has learned that hard work and determination go beyond any physical limits. I pray that God will put people in his life who will not see a person with limitations and health challenges but a fervently happy person who loves baseball and movies and life in general. I hope that Logan will see that cerebral palsy, while a challenge, is not something meant to weigh him down but instead a platform from which he can serve God in a way others could not. But, on those days that he may feel overcome and let down by the challenges that he faces, I pray that God will grant me the wisdom to help him see that it is those very struggles that make us realize how blessed we really are.

You don't have to look to hard to find people struggling. I am often reminded that we are not alone. The local prayer list is always long with health needs and burdens that seem immeasurable. Even the seemingly untouchable Hollywood reports stories about loved ones lost and obstacles to overcome. I am certain that you would be hard pressed to find someone who is not either facing a struggle themselves, or has a loved one dealing with some kind of battle. And whether you are the average Joe, or the Hollywood star, I don't think that God intended us to feel overcome by those situations, but instead, hopeful. I think that He understands that moment of sorrow or self pity, but longs for us to see His goodness in the midst of them. If we never had a struggle, we would not recognize our blessings.

New Year's Resolution

At the start of the new year someone asked me the timeless question, "Did you make any new year's resolutions?". I'm not big on them, mostly because I rarely see them through to completion. I quit setting goals for the new year because when I did not meet them it made the year feel like somewhat of a failed one. I chose to opt out of making new year's resolutions. But, this year the question did get me thinking.

One of my very favorite books is "Oh, The Places You'll Go" by Dr. Suess. I love the book mostly because it is so true to life. Dr. Suess writes about the up and down stages of life and there is rarely a time when I cannot pick a point in the book and know I am there. Lately I feel like I'm in the waiting place. He describes it like this, "The waiting place... for people just waiting. Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come or a plane to go or the phone to ring or the snow to snow or waiting around for a Yes or No or waiting for their hair to grow. Everyone is just waiting. Waiting for the fish to bite or waiting for wind to fly a kite or waiting around for Friday night or waiting, perhaps, for their Uncle Jake or a pot to boil, or a Better Break or a string of pearls, or a pair of pants or a wig with curls, or Another Chance. Everyone is just waiting."

Like Dr. Suess, I find myself spending so much time waiting. And while mine does not fit into a nice little rhyme, it is very much the same. I wait for the kids to get home from school; Brett to get home from work. I wait for morning to come to stop worrying about an unseen seizure. I wait for new medicine and the proof it works. I wait for time to pass because, "We won't know if he (Logan) will physically or mentally regress from ESES (electrical status epilepticus during slow-wave sleep) until he gets older." I wait for answers that may never come and cures that may never be invented. I wait for God to work my miracle, send an answer, or reveal His plan. I'm just waiting. So much so, I fear, that I miss the beauty of the day in front of me.

The next page of the story goes on to say, "No! That's not for you! Some how you'll escape all that waiting and staying. You'll find the bright places where Boom Bands are playing." So, that's it! For 2009, I have decided to rejoin the fearless resolutioners. I resolve to escape from the waiting place to find the bright places where boom bands are playing. Ironically enough, I think that place is right here in front of me. I think I can stop waiting for something to get better because I realize that while it may not be perfect, how I envisioned it, or how I would have written it, it's life, and better yet, it's my life. And, while I'm not exactly sure what a "boom band" is, it does sound pretty wonderful.

So, to answer the question, "Did you make a new year's resolution?", yes I did. I resolve for 2009 to stop waiting for God to perform the miracle of my choice and start seeing the many He's already given me. I will appreciate each stage as a gift from Him and stop waiting for that next better thing to come. I will not take for granted the blessing of waking every morning with my family around me. And, I will acknowledge that each day Logan continues to call me mom, play the "I love you, more" game, and just enjoys life, is a miracle. It's a new year's resolution I am excited make.

Third Time's a Charm?

Every boy should have a dog, or at least that's what I've been told. Our mistake was taking the kids to see the new Disney movie, "Bolt". In the movie, Bolt is an adorable little puppy who has one big adventure while trying to get back to his owner. We knew we were in trouble when at the end of a happy movie we looked at Dylan and tears were streaming down his cheeks. When I asked him why he was crying he said, "I just miss Sophie."

Two years ago we tried our hand at our first house dog. She was an adorable little Maltese and the kids fell in love with her right away. We lovingly named her Sophie. After a lot of effort on my part, the terrible task of potty training was well under way. However, she unfortunately had a hole in her heart that would not close up. Her health coupled with the fact that we were never home made it nearly impossible to keep her so, without telling the kids, I chose to give her away. Dylan was heartbroken and still talks about Sophie.

Shortly after Logan was diagnosed with epilepsy I heard that dogs can actually detect a seizure before they happen. I instantly knew that we had to try our luck again. If a dog could give me peace of mind while Logan slept it would be worth the task of potty training. Brett, being the realist he is, had his doubts that we could actually train a dog to react to the seizures, but being the optimist that I am I was certain that we could. A free dog came our way and without seeing it we agreed to take it in. At first sight we knew it was a mistake, but could not say no. With much hesitation we added Scamp to our family. The name fit. Some dogs are so ugly they are cute, but scamp was just plain ugly. After having him home a couple of weeks the mistake was even less deniable. Not only was he hard to look at, but even harder to potty train let alone seizure train. So, after promising Brett that our dog days were over, I loaded him up and took him to find another home.

After our "Bolt" incident Brett began to soften up to the idea of yet another try at adding the perfect canine to our home. Not wanting this window of opportunity to pass, I began to search images of those cute fuzzy faces on-line. The kids "oohed" and "aahed" over my shoulder when we came across a handsome little black and white Shih-Chon for sale. After throwing in the "every boy should have a dog" line Brett agreed to give our house dog days one last try. When my parents told us they were still looking for something to get the kids for Christmas, I knew just the gift!

The presentation of their gift left Logan speechless and once again brought Dylan to tears. This time when I asked Dylan why he was crying he answered, "I'm just so happy." On our way home from Christmas with my parents Logan helped hold our new addition. He looked down at the little fur ball in his lap and said, "Lightening Bolt Thompson, I'm Logan Blake Thompson, it's nice to meet ya." As for me, I'm confident that the third time's a charm. But for Brett, the jury is still out.

Christmas Traditions

Christmas and Traditions go hand in hand. Traditions are the things we do each year that make Christmas seem like Christmas to us. Some traditions are carried out because "it's the way we've always done it", others because we cannot avoid them, and then there are the ones we continue because we cannot imagine Christmas without them. Until recent years it was a tradition to be at Brett's great-grandmother's home on Christmas Eve. It did not seem like Christmas until we had been sufficiently stuffed on her delicious homemade rolls and the many other dishes she spent weeks preparing. She loved to be surrounded by her family and she was determined to host her own event well into her 90's. We tried many times to talk her into a simple dinner of pizza or soup, but to her it did not seem like Christmas until she served a Christmas dinner that was prepared by her own hands.

With Christmas here I took some time to think about all the things that we do because it does not seem like Christmas until we have done them. Here are a few things that came to mind:

It does not seem like Christmas until we have spent three hours at the Christmas tree farm only to end up cutting down the first one we saw.

It does not seem like Christmas until the Grinch has stolen it, Clark Griswald has officially lit all 25,000 twinkle lights, Ralphie has been told, "You'll shoot your eye out", and Tiny Tim has asked God to "Bless us, everyone".

It does not seem like Christmas until we have attended ten different Christmas dinners; all with the same family members.

It does not seem like Christmas until the drive has been shoveled and the windshield has been scraped.

It does not seem like Christmas until we have waited in line at Wal-Mart for at least twenty minutes because there are only twelve cashiers at their forty lanes.

It does not seem like Christmas until each tiny light on a strand that will not work has been checked, and then found the burned out bulb was at the opposite end from where we started. If one goes out, they all go out.

It does not seem like Christmas until we have sung Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer at least 200 times with our kids, and listened to Martina McBride's rendition of O Holy Night.

It does not seem like Christmas until the egg nog and fruit cake have been brought out that no one drinks or eats.

It does not seem like Christmas until we have opened those priceless homemade gifts from our children.

It does not seem like Christmas until we have reminisced about Christmases past and those loved ones who are no longer here to share them with.

It does not seem like Christmas until the stockings have been hung and the milk and cookies have been left on the table.

It does not seem like Christmas until we have heard the church choir perform their carefully practiced Christmas Cantata.

It does not seem like Christmas until we have attended the Christmas Eve candle-light service.

And, of course it just is not Christmas until we have heard the story of how the star shown bright in the sky, the wise men traveled from afar, and a savior was brought to earth in the form of a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes.

In closing I want to wish each of you a very Merry Christmas. I hope that your Christmas is filled with all of the things that make this season so special to you. I hope your traditions are many, your stresses few, and you and your family take time to remember Jesus and his humble beginnings at this blessed time of year.

"I'm Just Trying to Matter"

June Carter Cash once said, "I'm just trying to Matter." When I think about that quote it reminds me of the starfish story. A man was walking on the beach and there were hundreds of starfish laying in the sand about to perish. He then notices that someone is already there picking them up one at a time and throwing them back into the water. He questions why they would even bother, it is obvious that they could work all day and never save them all; in the end their efforts would not matter. The other replies, as he picks up another starfish, "It matters to this one."

To leave our mark, to do something in our lifetime that matters, is really what life is all about. For the most part we know that we matter to those around us; our family and friends. As parents we know that we matter to our children. It matters that we are there to be an active part of their lives. We hope that our positive contributions to our work matter to someone. But more than that, we hope that along the way our Christian walk matters. We hope that it matters to those closest to us as well as to someone simply passing through our life.
Today I ran into a former student of mine. I worked as a librarian for a high school and he was my aid for one hour of every day. He was a quiet young man with many health issues, but we always enjoyed a good conversation. Often times the conversation would turn to religion. He was not brought up in a Christian home, and even questioned the existence of a god. I enjoyed sharing my faith with him when he asked many times over that year, but by the years end there was little evidence that our conversations, while enjoyable, had made any impact. When I saw him today for the first time in years he introduced me to his wife and one week old daughter. He now walked with a cane but other than that seemed to be doing quite well. He told me that he lived in town and currently works for a church. It was obvious to him that I was surprised. I thought back to our many conversations in the library that year and couldn't help but want to cry tears of joy for him.

I am certain that along the way God has placed many witnesses in his path. I know that I am just a small part of the big plan, but what a sense of joy it is to know that I am any part God's plan and that in some small way, those conversations did matter. I sometimes wonder if God wants us to be a loud and outspoken crusader for His cause, or if He prefers a quiet life led by example. I wonder if I could better serve Him with a picket sign on a street corner, a closet full of "God Loves You" t-shirts, or a neon sign hung from my neck flashing John 3:16 to bring in the multitudes. Or, am I better off serving in the simple way I live my daily life. The way I love my family and treat my enemies, the way I speak of His blessings and acknowledge His goodness, or in the way I pray for those in need when no one else hears in hope of mattering to one. I know that which ever I choose I will fail and fail miserably at times, but in the end, like June Carter Cash, I just want which ever I did to matter.

The Reason for the Season

Gift bags and bows, lights and trees, Santa and his reindeer, Christmas music and candle light service. These are some of the things that come to mind this time of year. It's so easy to get caught up in the shuffle of Christmas when the gift list is long and the decorating needs to be done, especially if there are little ones in your house. I find as a mother it is hard to keep the balance for my children between the hustle and bustle and taking time to remember the real reason we celebrate this wonderful time of year.

Some of my best memories from my childhood revolve around Christmas. My mother has always loved this time of year. She loves the snow, the music, the trees and tinsel, the gifts and the gathering of family. She was always ready to put up the tree as soon as Thanksgiving passed. I must confess I have inherited her zest for the yule tide! She taught us about the joy of giving. It was always about the gifts she gave and not the ones she received. (Except the year dad wrapped up rocks, and motor oil, but that's a story for another blog!)
My brother and I used to lay awake at night and whisper from one room to the next, "I'll tell you something your getting if you tell me something I'm getting." As we got older the element of true surprise was sometimes stolen before the big morning. I have never been able to keep a secret about gifts, and to this day my husband usually knows everything I get him before I give it to him. It's just too exciting.
Then on Christmas morning Justin and I would be up at the crack of dawn, sometimes before, to run down stairs and get the morning started. This tradition lasted well beyond our years of believing the jolly old man in a red suit actually slid down our chimney. And, even now, it is me who is awake early just waiting for ANYONE else in our house to make a peep so we can get up and going!
But even with all of the wonder that comes with Christmas morning, one of my very favorite traditions was getting dressed up on Christmas eve and heading into candle light service at our church. It was that 30 minute service about Christ's birth that I cherished each year. I loved hearing the story time and again, lighting the candles and singing those sweet Christmas carols about a baby in a manger. That was our time as a family to shut out all of the world and remember why we celebrated this wonderful holiday.
One of my very favorite Christmas songs says, "Tonight is Christmas, Tonight is love. Tonight we celebrate God's one and only Son. Tonight there's hope for peace on earth eternally. Tonight is Christmas and the World's in harmony." (Alabama Christmas, a favorite of my dad's too). For me, that is the magic. That there is this wonderful time of year where we can celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. And for a moment, just a moment, there is a hope for peace.
So, while we do let our children believe in Santa and his reindeer, we also make sure they know the real reason we celebrate Christmas. They believe that Santa brings gifts because Jesus got gifts from the wise men. They love to look at the manger scene that resides on top of our piano and talk about the baby in the manger. And, I hope that when they look back at their childhood they remember this time of year as a time when families came together to celebrate the birth of their Savior. And while I hope they too choose to let their children believe in the magic of Santa, they will know that it was never the most important part of our Christmas.

Do Jesus Know Mickey?

Over the weekend we took the kids to Branson. It has been a family trip for the last couple of years and one I really look forward to. My parents, Aunt Betty, Uncle Steve, Matthew and Christianne all got to go this year. Justin and Crystal and the boys decided not to go this time around. We missed them.
Each year we take in a show. One year the Dixie Stampede, last year the Broken Arrow show, and this year Brett and I took the kids to see Noah the Musical while the elderly people in our group took in Andy's Christmas Show. We had really high hopes for the musical and had hoped the kids would enjoy all the animals. Well, while the show had a great message and told the story of Noah (one that really amazes me) very well, I would only give it a fair rating and our kids would rate it even lower I'm sure. The animals did not make an appearance until over an hour into the show and when they did, most were fake. It would not be something I would pay to see again.
Anyway, half way through the show Logan leans over and whispers to Brett, "Do Jesus know Mickey?"
Do Jesus know Mickey? I'm often caught off guard by the questions our children will ask, and am intrigued by the way their mind works. Nowhere in the story was there a mouse, it certainly was not a Disney production, nor was Jesus even spoken of since he had not even been born yet. I had hoped that it might spark questions of biblical sorts, however, that was not exactly what I had in mind. I thought they might ask why Noah had never seen rain, or why he did not know what a boat was, or why he believed in God when no one else did. I thought it might be a great opportunity to have an elaborate Sunday school lesson. But, "Do Jesus know Mickey?" had not been a question we had anticipated. Brett assured him that Jesus probably does know Mickey. I mean, I'm sure he probably does, right?
So, even though I cannot understand what might have sparked the question, it certainly made us laugh. And while there were no great theology discussions on Noah and his experience Logan did recognize that God and Jesus are connected, and for now, that is good enough.