Lurch. Herman Munster. Andre the Giant ... and me

Somewhere during the discovery process, the researching of medical journals and websites trying to make sense of a strange list of symptoms, the diagnosing of myself with the rare disease, acromegaly, I googled "Acromegaly" in Google Images.

Go ahead... I'll wait... you know you're curious...

Some of the first photos are of Andre the Giant, Fred Gwynn (Herman Munster), Carel Struyken (Lurch), and Richard Kiel (Jaws from the James Bond movies and Mr. Larson in Happy Gilmore), all of whom have/had acromegaly.  There was also an unfamiliar woman I didn't recognize who kept appearing.

I later learned that her name was Mary Ann Bevan, and she, too, suffered from acromegaly.  After her husbands death in 1914, she sought a way to earn a living to support herself and her four children.  She entered, and won, a "ugly woman" contest and was, as a result, hired by Coney Island and Ringling Bros. as a sideshow performer until her death in 1933.  To this day she is known and remembered as "The Ugliest Woman in the World".

One modern telling of Bevan's story quotes this,

"The reason she had this ugly appearance is because she had Acromegaly, a disease making you grow rapidly."

As a woman on the cusp of being officially diagnosed with such a rare disease as this, that is not a comforting statement.  It is also a bit humbling to be in such company, and to be able to relate to, and to empathize with, other "freaks of nature".

By the time I had surgery, I felt like Fiona (the green ogre from the Shrek films).  My face had grown so swollen I could see my cheeks and nose.  The day of surgery came and I spent a week on the neuro. floor of the hospital.  Somehow, patients and nurses would find their way to my room.

One lady in particular, a patient that the doctors wanted discharged because they could find nothing wrong with her, even though she was convinced she was dying, was inspecting me before I had even woken from the anesthesia, or rather, what felt like a drug induced coma.  She wanted every detail of my bizarre illness.

I'm not sure I knew my name at that moment, and I couldn't speak well through the tubes and the packing in my nostrils, but she was convinced that her daughter must have had what I had.  She came close to examine my face as I lay there.  She asked to see my feet.  I didn't have the energy to send her away (nor did I have the energy (or the desire) to remove the blanket and show her my feet!).  She asked if my brain still worked.  I tried not to laugh, because it hurt as I said, "I hope so!".

It was the circus.  I was the sideshow.  If I had ever wondered what it was like to be "that person", I wonder no more.

I've never been high maintenance.  I'm more  tom-boy than  girly-girl.  Vanity has never been my thing.  How thankful I am, and how thankful that God looks on the heart more than on the outward appearance.

But the LORD said to Samuel, “Do not look on his appearance or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the LORD sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the LORD looks on the heart.”

(1 Samuel 16:7 ESV)

Isn't that what matters most?  The heart? 

If we are to do all things in Jesus' name,  giving thanks to God the father through Him, then I assumed I had better put more effort into the condition of my heart than the size of my shoes.  I needed to learn to be thankful for the gift of illness.   

I needed to learn to give thanks in all circumstances, this one included.  To learn, again, to trust the Lord.  To learn, in case I didn't know already, that my identity is in Christ and not in my physical condition, not in my outward appearance, or in what others thought of me.

 “There is no greater mercy that I know of on earth than good health except it be sickness; and that has often been a greater mercy to me than health…

It is a good thing to be without a trouble; but it is a better thing to have a trouble, and know how to get grace enough to bear it.” ~Spurgeon

I don't yet know why God allowed for me to have this tumor, this ugly disease.  I know not why God chose to heal me.  The latter of which perplexes me more.

The tumor is gone, the disease is gone.

The effects of the disease remain, many of them irreversible, and will likely always stay and serve as a reminder of the year I had the excuse, "I have a brain tumor" for every dumb thing I said and did, but they will serve an even greater purpose.

The consequences of the disease are a constant reminder of the healing power of Christ, of his grace and mercy.

They are a reminder of what could have been, and perhaps more importantly, a reminder of what was, what is, and what should be.  They are a reminder of what is to come, as we will one day be made new.

Lastly, they are a reminder that I am one-in-a-million.  Just 3-4 people per million population are diagnosed each year with acromegaly.  Fewer than that are "biochemically cured" each year.

...Therefore, I'll assume that truly does make me one in a million.

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting,  

but a woman who fears the LORD is to be praised.

(Proverbs 31:30)

Acromegaly - God's Provision & Surgical Treatment

The continuation of Acromegaly - The {Self} Diagnosis.

Prior to having the diagnosis in hand, I had done my research.  I knew that surgery to remove the tumor was by far the best option for treatment.  The initial neuroendocrinologist I met with in Boston concurred.

Thankfully, a good friend of ours is a surgeon.  He had been working at Children's Hospital in Boston and had relocated to the Washington D.C. area just weeks prior to my having been diagnosed.  He said he would ask around and find the surgeon most highly qualified for the specific type of surgery I needed.

Shortly after, he contacted us with a name, and had already sent a letter to the surgeon on my behalf.  The surgeon most highly recommended was Dr. Edward Laws.  He was internationally known as the top pituitary tumor surgeon, having performed more than 5000 pituitary surgeries, more than any other surgeon in the world.  Given that my research had clearly shown that the outcome of this delicate surgery was highly dependent on the skill and experience of the surgeon, this was the guy I wanted.  Miraculously, he was in Boston.

It was then that we began to experience God's hand in what would be a surreal several months.

Within a few short weeks, in early December, I was able to meet with the surgeon thanks to the letter sent on my behalf.  He evaluated the MRI and the hormone levels, in conjunction with the symptoms.  He agreed that surgery was the best option.  We very much liked him and he was highly confident that surgery would be successful.  He wanted me scheduled for surgery right away.

At the time, Dan was essentially without a job and we feared not having health insurance to cover the surgery. With Christmas around the corner, we reluctantly scheduled surgery for mid-January.  In many ways, brain surgery was the least of our worries last year.  Christmas came and went.  There was no Christmas tree, there were no lights.  Just packed moving boxes, and memories of years past.  We didn't dare dream of what the years ahead may bring.  We inched forward, one day, one step at a time.

The day of surgery arrived.  We had brought the kids to my parents the day before, and I was up early making sure all the bills were paid and things were ready.  There was a knock at the door.  I asked Dan to get it, knowing that it was Brian, his good friend from college.  Dan hadn't wanted to ask anyone to be with him the day of surgery but I didn't want for him to be alone, especially should something have gone wrong.  I had emailed Brian, asking if he would come.  He agreed, and drove up from Connecticut to be at our house by 4am to surprise Dan and to travel with us in the snow to the hospital.  Dan was relieved to see his friend; his brother.  We arrived at the hospital at 5am, surgery was scheduled for 7am.

That snowy January morning was peaceful, albeit a bit sad.  We knew the surgery was necessary, and had been told plainly that without it I would likely die before age 50 of complications of the disease.  We knew the chances of a successful surgery were highly in our favor, but the surgery was not without great risk.  We had prayed that God's will be done.  We trusted that our sovereign God would do what was best, for his glory.  We knew that God's will may not have been for me to return home...

All prepped for surgery and waiting with Dan and Brian, Dan's friend Steve, a nurse, arrived.  He had gotten there early to surprise Dan and spent the day also.
The anesthesiologist arrived.  She gave her little speech about what she would do, and asked if I had concerns.  I simply told her, with a smile, that "I have an irrational fear of vomit", so to go ahead and give me the anti nausea medicine so as to prevent a reaction from the anesthesia.  Everyone laughed.  She commented on how calm we all seemed.  That was the last I remember, other than an intimidating glimpse of the operating room.

For the next hours, I underwent endoscopic transsphenoidal surgery (surgery performed through the nose and sphenoid sinus to reach the pituitary).

This part of the brain was among the hardest to reach, but recent technology allows the surgeon to perform this surgery with the use of microscopic lights, cameras and instruments inserted through the nose with great accuracy.  The surgeon watches what he's doing on a large TV, as he cuts through the sphenoid bone and accesses the tumor at the base of the brain.

In my case, the tumor was hanging on the carotid artery, attached also to the pituitary gland, just mere millimeters from the optic nerve.

As I was rolled into surgery, into the bright and sterile operating room I was praying that God would not allow the surgeon to sneeze.

When I awoke hours later in the recovery room, I was first thankful to be alive (God must have answered that one last prayer).  I opened my eyes for a brief moment, just long enough to realize I had not lost my eyesight.  Death and blindness the most obvious and immediate risks.

Someone told me as I was beginning to wake that the surgery was successful.  The surgeon had removed the tumor, and my pituitary gland was intact.  Great news, as that meant neither radiation nor hormone replacement therapy would be necessary.  I could hear Dan's voice.  I felt as though I'd been hit by a mack truck, yet was joy-filled for grace enough to live another day.

After a week in the hospital, I was discharged and instructed sternly to lift nothing heavier than a loaf of bread for eight weeks.  This proved slightly difficult with a very large 18 month old, and needing to pack for an upcoming move.

In the days that followed, the risk of diabetes insipidus, carotid artery damage, cerebral spinal fluid leak, meningitis, and excessive bleeding remained, but lessened with each passing week.

To be continued, once more...

Acromegaly - The {Self} Diagnosis

Yeah.  I know, right?  Acro-what!?

...The story of how I came to be diagnosed, in the fall of 2010, 
with a rare disease called acromegaly (ak-roh-MEG-uh-lee).

On our wedding day, now more than eleven years ago, I was athletic, petite, small-framed.  The white strappy sandals were a size 8.  The ring Dan placed on my finger a size 6.   I was 21.

At 23 I delivered our first child, 7lb. 6oz. Isaiah.

At 26 our second son, 6lb. 3oz. Elijah was born almost four weeks early.

With each pregnancy, or so it seemed, I needed new shoes. New shoes in bigger sizes.   I blamed the pregnancies, the extra weight, and the shoe companies for not keeping their sizes consistent!

At age 27 I had my size 6 wedding band cut off during a terrible experience with poison ivy.  I blamed the ivy and again the extra weight.

At 28 Dan had my engagement ring resized for me as a gift.  I hadn't been able to wear it in several years because it had become small.  It was resized to two full sizes larger than the original.

At 30, the engagement ring would no longer fit on my finger.   The child we were expecting was miscarried at 7 weeks.

With age 31 came the delivery of our third child.  An 11 pound infant born just five days past his due date.  Yes.  That does say 11 pounds!
Sweet Noah came into the world nearly the size of a toddler, delivered naturally and drug free just as his brothers were.  It was a perfect delivery, minus the hemorrhaging that followed.

Just a week or so before his birth I asked the midwife, "how big do you think he is?"  She responded, "well... I'd say no more than 8 pounds, but they've done studies that have concluded that the mother's guess is almost always the best guess".  I cringed and said, "Oh No!  He's HUGE!"  She laughed and sent me on my way.

Noone expected him to be as large as he was.  The midwife's only conclusion was that I must have had gestational diabetes even though I had passed the screening.  The midwife called a few weeks later asking it if would be OK that she have her picture taken with Noah at my six week post-delivery check up.  It was the largest baby she'd delivered in 30 plus years as a midwife.

That same year, I injured my knee walking in the park.  It swelled so badly it could not physically bend.  My leg was blue.  X-rays revealed that it was fine.  It was "just osteo-arthritis" according to my doctor.  "Take some vitamins" she said.  "Take vitamin D too as you're a bit deficient.  You are fine.  Just a busy homeschooling mom with three boys!"

I went home having filled a prescription to reduce the swelling, thinking "who at age 30 has arthritis this badly!?".

I returned to the doctor, insisting that it was necessary to pursue the cause of the strange symptoms.  The feet that had seemed to grow yet again, the aches and arthritis and the increasing fatigue, the constant sweating, muscle weakness, facial changes (cheek bones, hat size, tongue, teeth and jaw changes), constant swelling and water retention, increasing blood pressure, sleep apnea...
The eleven pound infant born the year prior was the major clue that something more was wrong.  It was not as simple as a vitamin deficiency.  I wasn't as old as I'd felt.  It was more than being a "busy mom".
Of all the lovely symptoms the fatigue was the worst.

Given that there is a family history of autoimmune disease, that seemed a logical place to start.  The doctor tested for anything she could think of that could cause fatigue.  She tested for lyme, she checked my thyroid function.

Everything came back negative.  She said, "what else?"  She ran a few more tests.  As I was leaving she said "if there's anything specific you find that we should test for, let me know!".  The second round of tests came back negative.

I began to make lists of all the odd symptoms.  Many I had initially excused as a result of my "old age", the result of an extra 40 pounds or so that had accumulated, or the result of pregnancy.

When the list seemed complete, I scoured the internet.  I called the doctor and requested one more round of tests.  I wanted my growth hormone levels tested and my cortisol as well.  She said, "those are fine!"  I asked how she knew and her response was, "Those are so rare!  You don't have a rare disease!"  I pushed. I said, "If you aren't comfortable running the tests I need to ask you to refer me to an endocrinologist".

Her response was, "I will.... but you are wasting his time".

She referred me to one in her practice and I met with him shortly after having made the appointment.  At the first visit I made a point to not tell him what I thought the cause of the symptoms to be, but simply handed him my long list of symptoms and said, "I feel old, fat and lazy".
He asked about my shoes.  My size 10 sneakers.  He asked about my wedding band.  The band that was now a size 8 and stuck on my finger.  He said he wanted me to head to the lab for some tests.

When he handed me the lab slip and I saw what he'd ordered, I asked, "couldn't two shoe sizes be caused by extra weight and three pregnancies?"  He smiled, knowing I knew what he was testing for, and responded in his chinese accent, "No.  Not that much!  This is very abnormal!"  The tests he had ordered were the tests I had requested of the initial doctor.

Several weeks later I returned for the results.  My growth hormone (GH) levels were elevated so a longer, more conclusive test was scheduled and a test was also done to check the Insulin-like Growth Factor 1 (IGF-1) levels.  The levels of both GH and IGF-1 were again quite elevated and an MRI revealed the cause, but because the doctor had only seen acromegaly once before in his life long career as an endocrinologist, he did not feel comfortable confirming the diagnosis.  I was sent to Boston.

The neuroendocrinologist in Boston confirmed what I already knew to be true.  I had acromegaly.  A rare disease in which a hormone producing adenoma secretes an overproduction of growth hormone causing excessive growth throughout the body.  When the tumor begins in childhood the result is gigantism.  In adulthood, when the bones have fused prior to the development of the tumor, the result is acromegaly.

In my case, as in most cases, the adenoma was found in the pituitary.  It was also attached to the carotid artery and next to the optic nerve at the base of the pituitary gland.  {The pituitary gland is an endocrine gland about the size of a pea at the base of the brain.}

In English, the cause of the disease, the cause of all of the symptoms, the cause of the bone and tissue growth, the cause of the 11lb. newborn (or rather the cause of gestational diabetes), the cause of the fatigue and muscle weakness, the possible cause of a miscarriage, was a brain tumor.

 ...To be continued...

Boys Will Be Boys

Boy, n. : a noise with dirt on it.  

 1 boy is worth half a man, 

2 boys are worth half a boy, 

3 boys are no help at all

Of all the animals the boy is the most unmanageable - Plato

Boys will be boys (regardless of how old they get)

The quotes above are all taken from my scrapbook materials.  They summarize the very poignant message given to mothers of sons by our consumer culture.
Quotes such as the ones above can be seen everywhere.  We've seen them framed in most department stores, printed as wall stickers intended for baby boy nurseries, written in the pages of baby books, and all over the internet.  The same messages, and worse, are given in the pages of parenting books, popular television sitcoms and TV commercials.

Disney's Mulan quotes "boys will be boys" when the baby gets into the yarn the mother is spinning.  Louis on the Emperor's New Clothes is excused from having torn his clothes as a result of his swinging from the chandelier.  It is stated, "Louis simply couldn't help himself.  It was natural".

In the sitcom Two and a Half Men, Alan Harper's teenage son Jake's immorality is excused because "boys will be boys".  Then, of course it would be excused because his father and his uncle have set such a terrible example.  This may be an extreme example, but frankly, most TV shows portray men as ineffectual, disengaged cowards.

I hear parents often say, "Boys will be boys!"  as they excuse their sons poor behavior.

I often wonder why parents excuse self-indulgence, disrespect, uncleanliness, irresponsibility, bullying and the like as behavior appropriate for a "typical boy".  Then, I see what is put before moms and what is presented as "normal" and I can see why.  Instead of training boys to be knowledgeable and skillful men of character we encourage them to coast through boyhood as though there is nothing for which to prepare.

Sadly, the ever popular excuse, "boys will be boys" allows everyone to look the other way.

Unfortunately for the boy, there will come a day when that excuse is no longer given on his behalf.  The day will come when he is expected to behave like a man.  The common phenomenon of extended adolescence shows exactly what happens when boys are not trained to be men.

Although our boys often come in from outdoors rowdy and smelling as we say, like worms and dirt, they know that there is a time and place.  They are given ample time to play and explore.  Time to experiment and roam about the backyard, but it is our goal to train manly men.  Men who are honorable and trustworthy.  Men who are visionaries, family leaders, servant leaders, and hard workers.

There is no switch to flip when they reach 16, 18 or even 21.
If only it were that easy...
Instead, they must be taught and trained, diligently and consistently, throughout boyhood.

"Someone said, 

"Boys will be boys;"

he forgot to add, 

"Boys will be men"." 

- Napoleon Bonaparte

Kisses From Katie ... and negative purity

I have watched this video numerous times and have been struck by it, in a slightly different way, each time.

If I am being honest, what I keep coming back to is the fact that the girl in the video, Katie Davis, the one who has left her home in Tennessee to feed the hungry, to care for orphans, to sacrifice all to do unto others, is now just 22 years young.

At 16, she knew God was calling her to missions.  At 18, she left home for Uganda for what was to be a one year commitment.  

At 19, she founded Amazima, a ministry that feeds, educates, and encourages orphaned and vulnerable children and the poor in the country of Uganda.  A ministry that now, just three years after it's founding, has a $700,000 a year budget, sponsors 500 children and feeds 2,000 more.  

Now, at 22, she is the mother of 14 children.  

Please take several moments to view this video clip if you will.  

The music may first be paused by scrolling down to the gray music player in left sidebar.  

Simply click the round pause button.

Of all things, why is her age what struck me most?  

Just moments after watching the video for the first time, I had to run to the library- where, by the way, I did a quick search to request the book this young woman has recently authored about her experiences that has just landed on the New York Times Bestseller List.

Walking up to the library, the door was blocked by teenagers who had just gotten out of school.  I covered the ears of my eight year old son as we walked in.  The language too crass to repeat.  The discussion more vulgar than I care to recall.  One girl tossing a fake wooden rifle.  Others calling disrespectfully to their classmates who were walking down the street.  Teens smoking, making fun of the older folks trying to make their way in and out of the library.  

A stark contrast.

Why are there not more teens like Katie Davis?  Why can they not see beyond themselves?  How have they not learned that the world is so much bigger, that they are not the shining star around which the earth revolves?

Some may say that Katie is special, with a special calling.  I believe that is true.  

I also believe that we expect far to little of what we have come to know as "adolescents".    

Take a good, hard look at the children and teenagers around you.  

Take a look not just at what they are not doing, but what they are.

What do you see?  

Charles Spurgeon, the great preacher of the nineteenth century, commented, "Perhaps some of you can claim a sort of negative purity, because you do not walk in the way of the ungodly; but let me ask you - Is your delight in the law of God? Do you study God's Word? Do you make it the man of your right hand - your best companion and hourly guide?" If not, Spurgeon said, the blessing of Psalm 1 does not belong to you.  

--Alex and Brett Harris, Do Hard Things

Do the young people in your life know Jesus?  

Do they know what it means to look beyond themselves?  

Is there really true, abundant fruit in their lives?  Do they really show self-control?  Do they respect authority?  Do they obey and honor their parents?  Are they kind?  Are they responsible?  

Are they accountable?  How do they conduct themselves?

How about your expectations - the expectations you have of them as a parent?  

As a teacher?  A friend?

What wonderful things teens can accomplish when they are trained, taught, guided and discipled by the Word, and by those God has placed in their lives.

More about Katie and Amazima, and how you can support this ministry can be found at www.amazima.org.

Blessed is the man

who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,

nor stands in the way of sinners,

nor sits in the seat of scoffers;

but his delight is in the law of the LORD,

and on his law he meditates day and night.

(Psalm 1:1-2 ESV)

Happy Harvest

His first Halloween he was a little lion with the sweetest little tail.  The next year he was an elephant, and then a rhinoceros, a cowboy and two years in a row he was Buzz Lightyear.  Last year he created his own Daniel Boone costume.  The costumes have been passed down to the younger brothers.

The costumes are perhaps the only thing left that resembles Halloween.

When Isaiah was young, we thought we could adapt the pagan traditions and instead of dropping in on neighbors asking, "Trick or Treat?" holding open baskets waiting to be treated, we opted to visit friends and instead greet them with "Happy Harvest!" and a treat that we had brought them.  It was our attempt at bringing light to the darkness, on a night that celebrated the grousome, the grotesque and the occult.

Unfortunately, we found that while this brought smiles to the faces of the friends we visited it did little for our children.  While at the houses of friends, others would come to the door dressed as witches, devils, ghosts and the like.

The boys would be scared.  They would ask why it was OK for others to beg for candy.  Why was there fake blood dripping from the mouths of those they encountered?

Then we thought that allowing them to dress up and taking them out to dinner would be a good compromise.  This led to similar problems and also had them out after dark, seeing (and questioning) the increasingly prevalent Halloween decorations on lawns and houses we drove past.

Another year we tried going to Grandma and Grandpa's house.  They live in a neighborhood with lots of small children and we thought it may be fun for the boys to show Grandma and Grandpa their costumes and they could help pass out candy.

This was even more problematic as it seemed all of town had congregated in their neighborhood having arrived there on flatbed trucks!  Teens and adults were dressed as vampires and other goulish creatures.

Our attempt to adapt, to find a way to participate in such a day yet be consistent in what we were teaching our children, to not have them feel left out, failed miserably.

We found that our substitute was teaching them that there was something they were supposed to feel they were missing out on.  That was not the message we wanted to send!  We also learned that they would rather not participate and they, in fact, did not at all feel left out of anything!

On a night when the spiritual battle rages most fiercely, when Satan is being celebrated, we have found it to be far more consistent and fruitful to continue to train them to be soldiers in Christ's army than to send them into the front lines unprepared.

Now that two of them are older, they fully understand why we do not participate and given the option they would choose not anyway.  Noah has no idea there even is such a thing called Halloween... yet.

When someone asks the children what they're going to be, or what they're going to do, they simply say that we don't celebrate Halloween.  Sadly, most don't accept this answer and press harder.  "Haha!  Everyone celebrates halloween!  Does your mom really not let you go out!?" The boys have been known to use this opportunity to witness to grocery store baggers and bank tellers of Christ's love and light.

This approach is also one more thing that teaches them that it's good to be different.  It's good to not follow the crowd.  It's a good thing to be mindful and aware.  To think about why we do what we do.

We have long since dismissed Halloween as a holiday.  We found that all the kids really cared about was eating candy and dressing in a costume.  Halloween night, they're now tucked safely in bed early.  The porch light stays dark.

The week after Halloween, we fill the candy bowl with steeply discounted candy... and it's a normal day in our house to find children dressed as Daniel Boone, American Indians, or even vikings.

This, I strive to know...

One of my favorite verses, Psalm 46:10, is often misunderstood.  

Psalm 46:10 is often used to encourage people to sit still. To listen for the still small voice of God.  To listen for a whisper, to watch for what many call a sign.  Sometimes it is even used as an excuse for laziness.  It is sometimes seen as a contradiction to the commands in scripture that require us to do.  To serve.  To act.  

In context, however, this verse is really a display of God's peace in the midst of war.  In Hebrew, the word for "be still" is better translated as "to be weak" or "to surrender".  

It is our soul that should be still.  Our soul that should know. 

Not necessarily feel, but know.

Know that God is who He says He is.

God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in trouble.
Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,
though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,
though its waters roar and foam,
though the mountains tremble at its swelling. Selah
There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,
the holy habitation of the Most High.
God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;
God will help her when morning dawns.
The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;
he utters his voice, the earth melts.
The LORD of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah
Come, behold the works of the LORD,
how he has brought desolations on the earth.
He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;
he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;
he burns the chariots with fire.
“Be still, and know that I am God.
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth!”
The LORD of hosts is with us;
the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah
(Psalm 46 ESV)

Regardless of our circumstances, we can trust.  We can be peace-filled.  We can rest.  Our soul can be still and know that the Lord is God.  He is with us, we are never forsaken.  He is in control.  We can surrender all to Him.

All to Jesus I surrender;

1. All to Him I freely give;
   I will ever love and trust Him,
   In His presence daily live.
   • Refrain:
     I surrender all,
     I surrender all;
     All to Thee, my blessed Savior,
     I surrender all.
2. All to Jesus I surrender;
   Humbly at His feet I bow,
   Worldly pleasures all forsaken;
   Take me, Jesus, take me now.
3. All to Jesus I surrender;
   Make me, Savior, wholly Thine;
   Let me feel the Holy Spirit,
   Truly know that Thou art mine.
4. All to Jesus I surrender;
   Lord, I give myself to Thee;
   Fill me with Thy love and power;
   Let Thy blessing fall on me.
5. All to Jesus I surrender;
   Now I feel the sacred flame.
   Oh, the joy of full salvation!
   Glory, glory, to His Name!

*This post was written yesterday, Sunday.  All it lacked was the title, or so I thought.  I was just about to publish it when the screams came from outside the window.  

1. A little boy laying on the ground.  Another, the younger, running in crying.  Shaking.  Yelling, "Mama!  Squirty's hurt!  Call 911!  Quick!  He needs you!"  
2. I got up from the computer and ran outside to find the little guy, pant leg rolled up, thick blood dripping from his knee.  My mind, darting from thought to thought like a pinball in a machine.  Has he hit his head? Is his leg broken?  How deep is this wound?  Stitches?  Dan is at work, and has the mini-van.  His car in the shop from having broken down last week.  Where is the baby?  What has happened here?  How did this happen?  
3. I breathe deep.  Look at the little faces waiting for my reaction.  My assessment.  They respond before I'm able.  "We're so sorry Mama!  Do you forgive us?  We were playing where you'd told us not to!  We were playing too close to the fire pit!"  

Sweet repentant hearts.  Scared boys, cold and hungry.  Dinner time nearing, cool damp autumn evening air creeping in.  

"Pa always says to keep my eyes on the ball", Isaiah continued.

"Yes!  You are forgiven!  Everything will be OK!  Let's work together and do the next right thing".  I share with them the post I had just written.  "Be still and know that HE IS God!  Who is He?"  I ask them to tell me, to begin to list all that God is.  

"Our comfort" says one boy.  "Peace" says another.  "Strength.  He calms the storm and moves the mountains" they add.  "Good, keep going." I tell them.  

"Elijah- stay with your brother".  They had begun to calm and I ran in the house to call Dan.  He came home.  I stayed with Isaiah, pressure on the wound.  The bleeding began to slow.  Elijah gathered all that we'd need from the house, and we all got in the van to bring Dan back to the church.  Youth group would begin soon.  

We put gas in the van and headed to the ER.  We sat for an hour, still hadn't been triaged.  The people across from us had been there four hours already.  There was no space to move, nowhere to sit.  The baby was fussy and tired.  I prayed continually.  Decided it was not wise to wait.  

We went home, bathed the younger boys, fed them all.  Called the pediatrician who would facilitate us onto the fast track at the ER.  She felt it was necessary that he return.  

Back to the van, back to the church we went to pick up Dan.  Waited for Dan to finish at youth group then drove him and the little ones home and we put the little ones to bed.  

Isaiah and I returned to the ER.  Fast track still took two hours.  He was seen at 10:30pm by the ER doctor.  When the doctor removed the gauze I had taped to his knee, I was shocked.  It didn't even look like the same injury.  It had already begun to heal.  The wound that had been still bleeding, that was still separated and was a gaping hole at 10pm, had a thin layer of skin over it.  No stitches needed.  The wound was cleaned and bandaged and we were sent home.  

The prayers of Elijah, a six year old, had been answered.  The healing had begun quickly, just as he'd prayed.

Oh, how quickly the test came, having just written the post above.

The circumstances that are anything but pleasant, convenient, or easy.  There was no time for "being still" in the physical sense, yet we were at peace.  

We knew that God was in control.  

Though I know not why those were the circumstances of last evening, it was an opportunity to practice stillness in chaos, calm in crisis.  

It was a teaching opportunity for two boys, and an opportunity to see them practice that which they'd previously been taught.  

To see Eli leaning over Isaiah, praying for his healing when I returned outside from having called Dan, to see him act quickly, knowing how to respond in an emergency.  

To see Eli serve his family by gathering all that was needed, gauze and tape, snacks for all boys, bottles of water, my purse, everyone's coats, the baby's special blanket.  

To see Noah obey immediately, the first time and without question, lavishing kisses on Isaiah, showing empathy.  

To see Isaiah respond with bravery and courage.  A beautiful display of understanding, selflessness and patience as the night wore on, his willingness to see the greater good.  The ability to have his own needs set aside to have those of his baby brothers met first as we left that ER the first time.  

Me, fighting the temptation to feel guilty for choosing the younger sons needs over the older, yet knowing I had done what was right in not sitting all night in that filthy waiting room with all three hungry and tired children.

Trying all the while to see.  

To look beyond the surreal moments to see why we were there.  

What didn't I know?  What was I supposed to know?  

This.  It's this I know.  This, I strive to know...

God is our refuge and strength,

a very present help in trouble.

Therefore we will not fear though the earth gives way,

though the mountains be moved into the heart of the sea,

though its waters roar and foam,

though the mountains tremble at its swelling. Selah

There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God,

the holy habitation of the Most High.

God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved;

God will help her when morning dawns.

The nations rage, the kingdoms totter;

he utters his voice, the earth melts.

The LORD of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

Come, behold the works of the LORD,

how he has brought desolations on the earth.

He makes wars cease to the end of the earth;

he breaks the bow and shatters the spear;

he burns the chariots with fire.

“Be still, and know that I am God.

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth!”

The LORD of hosts is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress. Selah

(Psalm 46 ESV)