Cardboard Testimonies

I have been touched this week. I am not speaking about physically touched, but rather emotionally touched to my very core. The culprit; cardboard testimonies. If you don’t know what cardboard testimonies are, you should stop reading this, log onto YouTube, and watch as many as you can find. There simply are no words efficient enough to describe them to you. They truly are something you must see for yourself. However, for those of you who do not have instant internet access, I will do my best to fill you in. The concept is simple. On one side a weakness, struggle, or obstacle in your life is spelled out in basic black marker. On the other side how God has changed you or your situation. There are no spoken words, just a simply stated statement with a moving dynamic point. The point; God is still changing lives.

Here are some examples. On the front: Addicted to Heroin for thirty years. On the back: Saved, free and clean. Front: Not able to have children for five year. Back: Our son is two years old. Front: Scheduled an abortion 10 years ago. Back: Celebrating 10 years with our daughter. Front: Was sexually abused and had no hope for the future. Back: Found hope in Jesus! Now lead a group for sexually abused women. Front: Special needs child. Down syndrome plus hearing and vision problems. Back: Secure in God’s perfect plan. Reflecting God’s joy and kindness. Front: Battling stage three cancer. Back: Joy knowing that nothing can separate me from the love of God. Front: Looking for work, can’t make ends meet. Back: Trusting God and His perfect timing.

There are many, many more stories, one just as touching as the next. Some so touching they instantly bring you to tears, while others just make you smile. I hesitantly admit that I simply don’t live my life in such a way that I constantly see the good God has given me in the midst of my struggle. I try, but as hard as I try it too often seems that the weight of the hardship blocks the beauty or peace God is providing. For example, a good friend of mine is lying in a hospital bed with more broken bones than one could count. His recovery will be long and his end result uncertain. It would be easy to stay focused on the unfortunate circumstances of his accident instead of looking to find the plan God has. However, as I watched the cardboard testimonies I couldn’t help but wonder what his will be. How will God change his current circumstances? Will it be a testimony of healing against all odds, or peace beyond all understanding? I know that which ever it is there will be one and I pray that in time he will be able to see it and share it with others.

The testimonies also made me think a lot about what my own cardboard testimony would be. Honestly, I would have several because God has been present in all of my hard times and tough situations. The outcome has not always been what I would have chosen, but if I stop and look back on those situations I can see how God has brought me through them with a new understanding of His love. I would venture to guess that each of you would have several of your own. I often wish this column was interactive. I always feel that I miss out by not being able to hear or see your responses. Still, if I could share one with you, it would be this: front: Felt inadequate to share God’s love. Back: Realized it’s not about what I do, but what He has already done. Writing a weekly column called Faith and Family.

And Then I Read the Note

I fully understand that being a woman makes me somewhat of an emotional creature by nature. If you are a man, you may want to stop reading here. For you women, I think you will understand the emotion involved in what I am about to say. Women are programmed to cry at sappy movies and heart felt commercials. We naturally cry at weddings and funerals. We cry when we are overjoyed, sad, and sometimes even when we are mad. I understand this is our make-up although, I don’t always like it. I used to feel that I had my emotions under control. I don’t know if age or life has allowed them to flow more freely in recent years, but they certainly surface more easily than they used to.

School starts tomorrow, and the past week has been full of those one and two tear moments. The kind of moments when your eyes well, and maybe one or two tears spill over before you can compose yourself. I shed a tear for Dylan about a week ago when the anxiety of starting a new school seemed to be weighing in. I shed a tear or two Sunday when I learned that God had taken care of even the small worries I had about Logan’s school year because his Sunday school teacher is going to be helping him in the lunch room this year. I shed a tear or maybe three when we left his IEP meeting where it was so obvious how much everyone in the room wanted what was best for Logan, and was willing to do anything to make his year as successful as possible. I shed a tear when Dylan picked out his very own locker because he seemed so grown up. Then, another when we dropped all of their school supplies off at their classrooms. While we were in Logan’s room his teacher slipped a note into his book bag and said, “This is for you, mom, don’t read it unless you are ready to cry.” Thinking I had already shed my tears along the way, I decided to pull it out and read it. I thought I had shed my tears, and then I read the note titled “The First Day of School”.

I gave you a wink and a smile as you came into my room that day. For I know how hard it is to leave and know your child must stay. You’ve been with him for five years now and have been a loving guide. But now, alas, the time has come to leave him at my side. Just know that as you drive away and tears down your cheeks may flow. I’ll love him as I do my own and help him learn and grow. So, please put your mind at ease and cry those tears no more; for I will love him and take him in when you leave him at my door. – Jaime Solley

As I read these words, I don’t have to tell you that a river of tears flowed down my cheeks. I cried for the unknowns the year holds, for the kindness of his teacher’s heart, and for the loss of no longer having any children at home. I cried at the realization that I will no longer be continually at his side to make sure he gets up when he falls, his pants get pulled up straight, or to make sure everyone understands everything he says. I cried for him and I cried for myself. I sat in my chair and really let the tears come until there were no more to muster up. So, tomorrow when I drop him off at the doorway of his bright and cheerful Kindergarten classroom I am hoping that I have cried all of the necessary tears. I am hoping that the morning will be full of smiles, excitement and snapshots. But, I will probably put a few Kleenex in my purse, you know, just in case.

Happy Birthday, Logan

"I'm having a speed racer birthday party. You can come." Logan told this to everyone he saw in the past month. The waitress at the Mexican Restaurant, the lady in Wal Mart, the kid at McDonald's, and anyone else who would stand still in his presence long enough to be asked. He had been anticipating the day for so long and on Sunday it finally arrived. Brett had to be cake man this year because I was out of town (auditioning for the Family Feud in Cleveland, OH... but that's a whole other story!) until Saturday afternoon. I left him with supplies and a picture I found on the Internet. He came through gloriously!! Logan was so proud of his Speed Racer cake that each guest who entered our home was swiftly led by the hand to observe the sweet perfection. Soon after everyone arrived Logan announced, "Let's get this party started and sing "Happy Birthday to Me"!!" So we did. It was a wonderfully exhausting day.
Happy sixth birthday, little man. We are so proud to call you "son".

"What Now"

You may remember the teenage Hawaiian surfer, Bethany Hamilton, who lost her left arm to a 1,500-pound shark. When questioned about her ordeal her upbeat response startled observers when she said, "This was God's plan for my life, and I'm going to go with it." Just a few months later, she was back surfing competitively—she regards her tragedy as an opportunity to inspire others. I have often found that my faith is strengthened at the place of disappointment. It had to be disappointing to an athletic teenage girl to lose her arm, but through her words it is easy to see that her faith in God is real and strong.

Several weeks ago I wrote a column titled “Dare to Hope”. In it I shared with you that we were given hope for a possible cure for Logan’s cerebral palsy and epilepsy. He would have to undergo a spinal tap to test the folic acid levels in his spinal column as well as have some DNA testing done. We were hoping for the levels in his spinal fluid to be abnormal - it would make him a likely candidate for the new medicine - and his DNA testing to be normal. In June we traveled to St. Louis to undergo the procedure. For most of June and July we have waited around for the results and they finally came last Thursday. The spinal fluid was normal and the DNA tests were abnormal. The chances of Logan being a candidate for the new medication is low and because of the abnormal DNA findings we will have to undergo more testing in October. I would be lying to you if I said I was not disappointed. I was disappointed, but not devastated. I had allowed myself to have circumstantial hope in a medical answer but more than that I continued to have eternal hope in our God who promises that “hope will not disappoint us.” I am not sorry I allowed myself to hope for the best and know that down the road another potential answer will come along and I will probably hope for success with it also. However, my hope is grounded in the knowledge that God knows best and if this was not the right answer or the right time, I trust Him. I have leaned that it is better to ask Him, “what now” than “why” when faced with disappointing situations. I find that by asking “what now” I am allowing God to continue to reveal His plan even in the midst of my disappointment. I know He has a perfect plan and like Bethany Hamilton we are prepared to “go with it”.

While we sometimes get stuck focusing on our present situation it is important to remember it isn't the end of the story. An anonymous author said, “When we yield to discouragement it is usually because we give too much thought to the past and to the future.” I found that quote to be true. When I allow myself to get down about Logan’s cerebral palsy it is usually because I am spending too much time worrying about what his future will hold. I worry forgetting that God already knows and His plan is perfect. “Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (2 Corinthians 4:16-18). God's plans are always bigger than we think. The sting of our relatively short-term disappointment in no way compares to the ultimate hope we have in Him.

Back up and Running!

I am back on line... finally and have O SO MUCH to catch up on!!! New Blog's (and pictures) coming SOON! I have missed my blogging family.

Dare to Hope

One thing about hope is that hope is scary. Anyone who dares to hope runs the risk of disappointment. There is joy and fear in hoping for more than we have. There is joy in hope because it allows us to live for something more, look forward to something better. God’s word encourages us to hope, but to what extent are we allowed and should we hope for anything more than what God has already done for us? My very favorite verse is found in Jeremiah. Jeremiah 29:11 says, “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.” I think that I have shared that before. I love that verse and not because I think that He is speaking of the worldly view of prosper or hope, but a hope in things to come beyond what we can see. I like knowing that there is a plan. I like knowing that we are allowed, and even encouraged to hope.


Yesterday, Brett and I sat in the waiting room of the Neurology department at Children’s Hospital. We watched as parent after parent joined us. We noticed the look on the face of one mother carrying her new baby and our hearts were saddened knowing the pain of the early start on this journey she was about to embark. We thought about the many unknowns and how scary those first few years were waiting and wondering how this thing, this diagnosis, would affect our child. Those are not years I would want back. I looked at her eyes and knew that place of uncertainty and fear. I wanted to tell her it would be okay. I wanted to assure her that there is life after this, or better yet, life with this. I wanted to give her hope.


The truth is Brett and I have come to a place of acceptance when it comes to Cerebral Palsy and our son. Not to say that we do not have our days when we find ourselves wishing for something better for him, but for the most part we are satisfied and thankful for where we are in this journey God has given us. We talked as we waited about how living this has given us the gift of perspective. In our pre-children days when we thought about our future family we imagined our children living lives similar to our own. We imagined our children loving sports like we had and hoping they would spend their school years competing in the things we grew up competing in. Perspective has changed the importance of that. While we do have two boys who love sports, we know the reality is that Logan will probably never be a star athlete. Sometimes it is easy to be sad for him because he loves them so much, but perspective has allowed us to understand that God has a bigger plan for our children than what they achieve on the athletic fields of their youth. Perspective is a gift and we are thankful for it. However, yesterday we were given hope in a way we have only dreamed about.


There is a new study being done linking Cerebral Palsy and Epilepsy to folic acid deficiency in the brain and spinal fluid. Logan’s doctor talked to us about it with great excitement. She told us about a new drug made just for this deficiency and how it has already helped one of her patients dramatically. Logan will have a spinal tap done in the coming months to test his levels. At the end of her medical explanation she looked at us and said (as if to sum it up in a way we could understand), “If there is ever a time to hope, do it now.” We are. We are allowing ourselves to hope and pray that this could be a huge step in the right direction for Logan. Hope, today, is a wonderful thing and we are doing it fearlessly. We are doing it fearlessly because we know that God is in control and He will decide if this is what’s best for Logan. We will hope and rejoice in Him no matter the outcome. “And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.” - Romans 5:5. We will hope because we can.

Brave

If you have ever been to Disney World, you have probably seen the laserlight show at Hollywood Studio’s. When Logan was granted a Dream Factory trip there last summer, it was one of his favorite shows we went to. In the production, Mickey is faced with a ferocious, fire-breathing dragon. But, the dragon is no match for the brave Mickey as he slays him and is the hero of his own worst nightmare. So, when Logan knew he had to endure his Botox injections again this past Monday, he said he was going to “be brave like Mickey when he slays the dragon”. He was.

In Hollywood, Botox is a paralyzing toxin that keeps the stars looking young by smoothing out every wrinkle and crease that years add to your face. But, in little boys (or girls) who have cerebral palsy, Botox makes their stiff muscles more flexible and relaxed which helps them to move more easily. They make a significant difference for Logan. So, even though it is a painful procedure, it is worth it. The process involves laying him on a table face down where his muscles are stretched and tugged to their limit and the numbers are recorded for a reference point. Then, everyone in the room, myself included, holds him down while the doctor inserts a three inch needle to the center of his left calf muscle in four different places to inject the toxin. From there they move down the leg to the heel cord where two more injections are precisely placed. Sometimes, depending on the flexibility measurements, they also inject his left forearm. This trip we were lucky enough to avoid the extra sticks.

If you want to be inspired, make a trip to Children’s Hospital. The waiting rooms are filled with boys and girls who face their procedures with bravery that most of us would question we even have. They are well aware of what is about to happen - the anxiety is written on their faces - but they do not turn and run (and I’m quite sure that I would). I think there is an understanding that whatever they are facing is an attempt to give them a better quality of life. With the Botox, Logan is convinced it makes him run faster. For this reason, he leaves every appointment jolting out the door with the speed of a major league baseball player striving to beat the ball to first base. Well, maybe not quite that fast (although he thinks he is).

The struggle as his parent is trying to decide when the benefit of the procedure is worth the pain, and when it’s more than he should have to bear. I have often said I will be glad when he is old enough to make the decisions for himself. Until then, we just trust that God will help us determine what is necessary and what is not. Any mother who has held a child to a table while they scream in pain knows the intensity of the task. You understand when I say that the mother in me wants to pick him up and run knocking every doctor aside while I flee (yes, I have actually had that vision). But, instead you bear down and repeatedly tell them it will be okay. You do it because you believe that’s what is best for them. So far, it has been worth the tears.
The Christian artist, Nichole Nordeman wrote a song for her son titled, “Brave”. The chorus sings, “So long status quo, I think I just let go, you make me want to be brave. The way it always was is no longer good enough, you make me want to be brave.” I think she stole my very words. So, when we return in July to have his face injected for the first time we will put on his favorite Mickey shirt and prepare to slay the dragon once again. I am sure there will be tears shed but I am also sure that he will once again amaze me with his bravery and I will be a better person for having known him.