a fresh perspective

The Lord blessed me!  Peter started the day reading the rest of his Boxcar Mystery.  An hour later he finished it, announcing that it really wasn't scary after all. He read it in a day and a half.  Since we weren't due to go back to the library for another week, I knew that at this reading pace, we'd run out of grade 3 and 4 chapter books. Before husband left for work, I ran to the library and checked out seven more Boxcar Mysteries.

We're back in the reading business!  I'm so utterly thankful!

That was the highlight of my day.  Soon after Peter came down with a full-fledged cold--Daddy's cold.  As a mother, one of the hardest things for me to endure is this:  whining.  When Peter is sick he whines; he has no patience for illness.  About every ten minutes he reviewed for me--for us all--the discomfort of every symptom, and asked continually when he would be well again (we haven't had colds here since late November).  Along with that question, he asked me at least twenty times when the two goldfinches would come back to the feeder  Ughh!  It was a long day.

After the kids went to bed, I was more spent than usual.

Then I read something humbling, beautiful, at the end of Ann's book (quote below).  I don't know what you have planned this weekend, but being a mother, it probably entails a lot of service to little people--a lot of laundry, dishes, meal prep, diaper duty, wiping up wet messes, vacuuming dry ones, sweeping crumby ones.

I quote Ann Voskamp's  One Thousand Gifts ( pp 193-195) below...for you, for me. No matter how long, how rough, our days are, by switching our focus, we can serve our families with the joy of the Lord.

Jesus is about to let flesh be broken with nail, heart be broken with rejection, the chains be broken with bleeding love.  And in His last hours before His earthly end, He doesn't run out to buy something or catch a flight to go see something, but He wraps a towel around his waist and kneels low to take the feet of His forsakers gently in hand and wash away the grime between their toes.

At the last, this is what will determine a fulfilling, meaningful life, a life that, behind all the facades, every one of us longs to live: gratitude for the blessings that expresses itself by becoming the blessing.

Eucharisteo is the hand that opens to receive grace, then, with thanks, breaks the bread; that moves out into the larger circle of life and washes the feet of the world with that grace. Without the breaking and giving, without the washing of feet, eucharisteo isn't complete.  The Communion service is only complete in service. Communion, by necessity, always leads us into community.

Eucharisteo means "to give thanks", and give is a verb, something that we do.  God calls me to do thanks.  To give the thanks away. That thanks-giving might literally become thanks-living.  That our lives become the very blessings we have received.

I am blessed.  I can bless.  Imagine! I could let Him make me the gift!

I could be the joy!

Scratching a stubborn pot furiously with a wire scrubby, I remember it again, what I once read of liturgy.  That liturgy has its roots in the Greek word leitourgia, meaning "public work" or "public servant."  The meaning!  This life of washing dishes, of domestic routine, it can be something wholly different.  This life of rote work, it is itself a public work, a public serving--even this scrubbing of pans--and thus, if done unto God, the mundane work can become the living liturgy of the Last Supper.  I could become the blessing, live the liturgy!  I rinse pots and sing it softly, "This is my song of thanks to You.."

In the moment of singing that one line, dedicating the work as thanks to Him, something--the miracle--happens, and every time.  When service is unto people, the bones can grow weary, the frustration deep.  When the laundry is for the half dozen arms of children or the dozen legs, it's true.  I think I'm due some appreciation.  So comes a storm of trouble and lightning strikes joy.  But when Christ is at the center, when dishes, laundry, work, is my song of thanks to Him, joy rains. 

Friday's Gratitude:

* A boy's eyes lit up at the sight of more chapter books

* Goldfinches at the feeder--the first since March 12th.

* Squirrels taking a mesh bag of discarded meat fat (for the birds) off our tree and running behind the shed with it.

* Quiet reading time, reflecting time, for Momma.

* Sick bodies, reminding of the miracle our bodies are.

* Tulip shoots surviving the snowstorm (all has melted).

* Girls playing in the mud.

* Sending an Amazon copy of Ann's book to a friend in need, keeping the blessing going.  (A friend sent one to me.)  Please pray for my friend?  She and her husband and three girls embarked on a trailer park ministry to the poor and needy, resigning a children's pastor position at a church in Wyoming.  They planned to live on their savings while the ministry got up and running, until a salary could be generated via ministry donors.  They are down to the last few hundred in their savings account.  Big miracles needed. People come regularly to their home offering garden veggies and eggs, so my friend has faith that God will keep providing.  She homeschools her three girls, one of whom, at eight years old, was just diagnosed with ADHD and OCD; she is on medication for the OCD and receives counseling. While my friend's faith is strong, she is obviously going through a lot.  She is on my mind daily now.  Please pray?  Humbly thank you.

* Husband's cold mending quickly.

* Mopped floors, vacuumed carpets--the blessing of hard work and a body that is up to the task

out like a lion - March

These red-winged black birds seemed to know we'd get a few inches of snow.  (Peter learned that some birds can predict the weather.)  They came in droves just before a heavy snowfall began.  You can see the snow starting to collect on the ground.

On Monday the children enjoyed a homeschooling playdate at a park, where Peter found this salamander.  He's thrilled to have a second pet.  Come summer, we'll have a full house of various creepy crawlies.

Paul loves to create and Momma doesn't always have time to put projects together.  More often than not, he comes up with his own ideas.  This will be a ladybug.

Two days in a row Miss Mary created beautiful paintings, along side Miss Beth.  For some reason Beth ruined both of Mary's paintings, by balling them up like a piece of trash.  The first day I gave a mild scolding, but on the second I tapped her hand lightly and told her she needed to treat Mary's work nicely and this better not happen again.  

She was remorseful today and reached over to kiss her big sister and say sorry.  I wonder if she was jealous, because her own paintings are a bit of a mess?  I praise her work as much as I do Mary's.  

Anyway, Mary was so touched by her little sister's kiss, that she immediately forgave her, despite having spent about thirty minutes on the painting.   

I tell my kids frequently that one of the reasons God gave them siblings is to help them learn to love more like Christ.  When squabbles happen, I suggest to them, they need to work peaceably through them and each person must confess their part and be humbled.  They do seem to come to resolution quicker when I give this reminder.

We made brownies yesterday, and though Beth couldn't taste the batter containing four eggs, I did let her sample the frosting we made.  She licked it right off the beater utensil.  Warmed my heart, I tell you, to see her enjoying it so.  

We got a steady, heavy snow on Wednesday, lasting most of the day.  It was breathtakingly beautiful--the biggest snowflakes we've seen yet!  I do fear for the tulips and other bulbs, just coming up in this bed.

  

What made me think I could start morning glories in the house?  Tonight I had to put popsicle sticks in with these, attaching them with bread ties.  I hope we can come up with another solution before long. I didn't realize they would need to climb right away.

Miss Mary was so smitten with her Paul, that she put her arm around him while he read to her.  Oh, how that touched my Momma heart.  Then she kissed his baby soft cheek.

Is not a cardinal in the snow one of God's greatest gifts?  Breathtaking!

Thursday gratitude:

* For sibling kisses

* For husband hugs

* For whole-family cuddling

* For picture books shared all together on the couch

* For brothers who read to little ones so Momma can keep the pancakes from burning

* For a husband who always insists on taking the burnt ones, no matter how much I protest.  He lays down his life for us daily, in these little ways.

* For listening to Peter read while I nursed Beth in the rocker next to his.  He still reads aloud, for now, but he didn't repeat anything or stutter, as he read a Box Car Children book.  God heard my heart on this OCD complication! This is the first time in a while he was able to read peacefully, something other than the Bible.

Later tonight though he had trouble falling asleep because of some details in the book concerning a cave and a monster (not a real one of course, just part of the mystery).  Frustrated, he told me he wasn't going to read these books any more and why don't they write more Magic School Bus Chapter Books, because those are his favourite?

Last time this occurred, he told me he was only going to read these books in the morning--definitely not near bedtime.  This one he found particularly interesting though, because he read for pleasure about four separate times today.  I will be in prayer that this gets resolved soon, somehow, because like holding his hamster and watching his birds, reading calms him.  I had him make a list of self-soothing techniques and he listed the hamster, the birds, and just today, he added reading to the list.  It's something he can choose to do when his temper begins to flare.  Unfortunately, we still have difficulty finding material that doesn't aggravate his OCD in some way.  Tonight he asked me time and again if a monster was going to climb in his window.  It has been years since monsters were an issue.  The OCD makes him terribly skittish about many things. While I'm frustrated over finding something he's completely comfortable with, I'm so very thankful he's reading again!

making disciples v. impressing the world

Evangelism is not one of my gifts.  Opportunities seldom present themselves, but when a small window does open, I find myself tongue-tied. I'm not a talker; I write.

While a new Christian I made a mess of evangelizing my best friend and my family members.  It wasn't a fire and brimstone message, exactly; I don't remember what I said those fourteen years ago.  I just know it flopped.

April, my friend--neutral to religion--quickly forgave me.  Family members decidedly hostile to the Christian faith didn't disown me, but neither did they ever trust me again, or understand me.  The more I've embraced Christ the more brainwashed they've supposed me to be.  After all, who incurs $26,000 in debt to become a teacher, only to give it all up and live in poverty, married to a janitor.  Only a simpleton--and a brainwashed one at that. Poverty is the ultimate failure, the ultimate humiliation, to many non-Christians who've experienced it in childhood.  My family came from poverty.  To say they were eager to distance themselves from it is an understatement.  I can understand their feelings to an extent, by trying to imagine myself in their shoes.

I explained to family those twelve years ago, why I was marrying my betrothed.  I married him solely for his commitment to God.  Income and status made no difference.  His God-commitment, strong and sure and tested, was all I needed. While I liked other things about him, they were of lesser importance; I could have found them elsewhere.  His commitment to God was--and still is--extraordinary. Husband's experiencing a low point now, but he'll emerge with an even greater commitment.  God will accomplish this.

I have other family members completely neutral to faith experiences; it makes no difference to them how I live my life.  With them, I'm at peace.

But perhaps it should be the other way around?  Should their lack of interest bother me more?  Are those angered by Christianity closer to embracing it?

Changing gears a little here, and hopefully tying some ends together at the close....

I read The Misplaced Aims of the Tiger Mother yesterday from Albert Mohler, president of one of the largest seminaries in the world.  Are you familiar with Amy Chua's New York Times Bestselling book, Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother?  Ms. Chua, a professor of law at Yale Law School, used cruel and unusual means to ensure that her two daughters excelled at school and in music.  They were not allowed to be anything but the best.  Sophia and Louisa, her daughters, are now highly accomplished adults.

Ms. Chua opines that American kids are lazy and unaccomplished because American parents expect too little--putting high value on kids' feelings and happiness, rather than on accomplishment.

Here is an excerpt from Albert Mohler's piece:

In her book, Chua begins by describing just how radical the Tiger Mother approach really is. With language calculated to reach the nerves of reading mothers, Chua announced that her daughters had never been on a sleepover, acted in a school play, gone on a playdate, watched television, played a video game, or received any grade lower than an A. They had also never been allowed to be anything less than the top student in anything other than gym and drama. And she means every word of this. What she presents is nothing less than a monomaniacal approach to mothering that is intended to produce superior progeny — and that means superior in terms of academic and artistic achievement.

While many are impressed with this book and buying it in the droves, others are disgusted and dismayed.  I haven't read it and don't plan to--I fall into the dismay camp.

Notwithstanding his own dismay, Albert concedes that some of Chua's claims ring true:

There can also be no doubt that Christians should share many of Amy Chua’s concerns about the dominant style of American parenting. The Bible makes parental authority a matter of clear concern and priority, and the discipline and nurture of children are clear biblical mandates to parents. Christian parents reading Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother will share many of Amy Chua’s complaints and concerns. 

He goes on to express concern at how terribly one-dimensional Chua's goals are:

 All that seems to matter to Amy Chua is that her daughters gain entry into one of the world’s top universities, make a name for themselves in their chosen (very serious) profession, and marry someone of equal achievement. Now, there must be more to her concern, but, if so, these larger concerns do not appear in her book. Nor does it appear that other concerns can have much of a place in the lives of her daughters. There is no spiritual or moral concern expressed in the book.

He contrasts Chua's goals with those of Christian parents:

....A life lived in service to Christ on the mission field would be considered an embarrassment. The heroic service of a mother in the home is displaced by professional status. Parenting for deployment in the Kingdom of Christ is not even on the screen and would not qualify as a serious concern. The Christian worldview honors achievement and the stewardship of gifts, but not at the expense of faithfulness to Christ. Achievement, as the world sees it, may at times be a stumbling block to Christian faithfulness.

Do you know what surprises me most?  It's that her book is currently number 12 on the NY Times (hardcover, non-fiction) Bestseller's list.  To say it's struck a cord in America is putting it lightly.  I find it profoundly sad that droves of Americans would look to Amy Chua for parenting advice. Are we spiritually dead in this country--like Chua's book?  Are we so ego-obsessive that being on top is everything?

In a godless world, I suppose this makes sense.  My only consolation is that Ann's book is still number 11 on hardcover advice books!

The same day I read about Amy Chua, I also read this from Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest (February 15 entry):

Has it ever dawned on you that you are responsible spiritually to God for other people?  For instance, if I allow any turning away from God in my private life, everyone around me suffers.  We "sit together in the heavenly places..." (Ephesians 2:6).  "If one member suffers, all the members suffer with it..." (1 Corinthians 12:26)  If you allow physical selfishness, mental carelessness, moral insensitivity, or spiritual weakness, everyone in contact with you will suffer.  But you ask, "Who is sufficient to be able to live up to such a lofty standard?"  "Our sufficiency is from God..." and God alone (2 Corinthians 3:5).  "You shall be witnesses to Me..." (Acts 1:8).  How many of us are willing to spend every bit of our nervous, mental, moral and spiritual energy for Jesus Christ?  That is what God means when He uses the word witness....Why has God left us on this earth?  It is simply to be saved and sanctified?  No, it is to be at work in service to Him.  Am I willing to be broken bread and poured-out wine for Him?  Am I willing to be of no value to this age or this life except for one purpose and one alone--to be used to disciple men and women to the Lord Jesus Christ?  My life of service to God is the way I say "thank you" to Him for His inexpressibly wonderful salvation.  Remember, it is quite possible for God to set any of us aside if we refuse to be of service to Him--" lest, when I have preached to others, I myself should become disqualified" (1 Corinthians 9:27).

What a contrast these two ideas are!  Talk about an upside-down world! On the one hand you have Amy Chua telling us we should stop at nothing to make our kids the best. And on the other hand we have Oswald Chambers telling us that we, and our children, should focus on this one thing:  "to disciple men and women to the Lord Jesus Christ."

Whether or not we have the gift of evangelism--and as I said, I most certainly do not--we are still called to disciple.  The first step is to look at our own walks with Christ.  Are we bearing fruit?  There's so much in the world to distract us....so many standards to measure ourselves against, as Amy Chua's book illustrates.

Are we keeping our hearts pure and focused on Him?  What should we throw out, give up, reject, so that fruit is forthcoming?

I've long since given up talking to my extended family about the ways of Christ.  And honestly, I'm conflicted about my silence.  Is it the easy way out?  Am I so concerned about my own hurt that I can't tough it out for Christ?

Oswald reminds me here that I can show them Christ, by being "broken bread and poured-out wine".  "By having no value to this age or this life except for one purpose and one alone."

But will they notice?  That part is up to my Lord; I believe the answer is yes--eventually.  At a time appointed by Him.

Oswald also reminds me of what my focus needs to be as a parent.  We need constant reminders of this, as we strive to obey God in an increasingly godless world.  Discipleship, not achievement, is our parenting goal.  We parent to please Christ--as a thank you to Him--rather than to impress the world.

So what's my battle hymn, as a mom?  While Amy Chua concentrates on extracting something from her kids, I do the opposite.  I try to pour something into mine.

I pour myself.

My sacrificial offering of time, energy, heart, pleases God.  My offering is to God, most of all.  I don't behave sacrificially because my kids deserve it.

The word disciple is both a noun and a verb.  I must be one, before I can make one.

let the peace of Christ rule; and be thankful

And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Colossians 3:15


Expressing my thankfulness here today!

* My nine-year-old boy has dreams.  He wants to be a farmer so he can work beside his family; togetherness is everything to him.  Or he will be a forest ranger, helping people discover nature.  On the side he will do nature photography and write for nature magazines, and also write books for kids interested in nature.  These thoughts swirl round his head and I'm blessed to listen to his dreams.  I know his God-given passions will take him far and my Momma-heart is happy.

* The roaring din at the table is too much and I'm desperate for some verbal order--as in, taking turns to speak.  Asking probing questions always lowers the headache-inducing noise :"If you were given $100 what would you do with it, Paul?"  He answers:  "Save it!"  I ask it of Peter:  "I would buy some bird feeders and give the rest to the Lord."  Their answers bless me.  Mary would buy some birdfeeders for Peter.

* Beth is nursing in the rocker after her nap.  I can't resist.  I whisper it.  "I love you, Beth."  She stops nursing and comes up to kiss me, smiling I love you too.

* Cuddles with all four in the big bed.

* My nine year old taking third helpings of crockpot ham and potatoes

* Sons reading Scripture at the table.

* Jack the hamster soothing Peter's nerves, providing loyal, sleepy love in the middle of the day.

* Seven- and nine-year-old boys appreciating Momma's soul-soothing rocker.

* A husband who's strong when I'm weak and always ready with grace.

* Ann writes on page 180 of her book: "This is the way a body and a mouth say thank you:  Thy will be done.  This is the way the self dies, falls into the arms of Love."  In Luke 1:38, Mary, mother of Jesus, says, "Let this happen to me as you say!"  Ann writes of Mary: "In Mary's humility--her willingness to die to her expectations and plans--God exalts her.  In her submissiveness to His will, He fills her emptiness with fullness of Himself.  Her refrain of humble, surrendered gratitude quietly sings through all ages."  Aren't Mary's words some of the most beautiful in the Bible?

* Sweet emails from a friend over the weekend. (Thanks, Connie!)

* Peter reading Goodnight Moon to Beth, freeing Momma to prepare dinner.

* Mary mastering most of her letters and sounds without a single lesson. When they're on fire for learning, we just need to facilitate by having materials around.  I love that about young children! (ABC puzzles, foam bath letters, magnet letters, simple ABC books, print on the walls)

* God changing my heart so profoundly these last three years.  I don't resemble what I once was. He seems to peel off layer after layer, even while we daily struggle with sin.  He picks a few things to work on at a time, and when fruit appears, he goes on to another area.  He really does do all the work!  We can rest in that.

* Writing my heart out on this screen these last thirty-nine months--1026 posts in all, between my starter blog and this one.  God speaks to me here and I can listen well in the quiet of the late night.

* Peter and Paul choosing to read for pleasure twice today.

well with my soul

I'm sitting on his bed, reflective.

He's at the computer, working on a Teaching Textbooks lesson on right angles, line segments, rays, and how to name angles.

His fingers are in his mouth, then out.  He's sucking on his sweatshirt collar, then back to his finger.

A rash is developing around his mouth, from chewing so frequently on toys, clothes, fingers.

My heart aches as I watch him.

Is this a Tourette's tic?  Is it the OCD?  Is it the ADHD?  Is it the anxiety?

He seems happy today.  Relatively calm.  So why the chewing?

Last night after church husband shared news about the car we hope to buy from his friend.  His friend's mother died in February 2010 and it took the law firm thirteen months to finish work on her uncomplicated, uncontested will.  Her estate was worth $35,000 cash, plus a duplex in PA.  The lawyers took $7000 for their fee.  This sickened the family.  She saved all those years, so that lawyers could make $7000?

Surely there must be a better way to leave a parting gift to your loved ones?

Anyway, husband shared his discouragement.  About our van not always starting when he needs it to.  About having to enter the van from the passenger side door, rather than the driver door.  About the exhaust problem we obtained a hardship extension on last July.  We're required to spend $300 to try to fix our emissions problems or we can't renew the van registration.

The car we hope to buy is twenty-five years old but with relatively few miles. James, husband's friend, will sell it to us for $200.  We just found out it has to be inspected before we drive it out of PA and all necessary repairs have to be made.

I'm sure all this regulation is good for someone.  Just not for the working poor.  Regulations choke the poor.

Husband wonders what it means that God only gives good gifts.  What does it mean that God always provides?  This is providing?  A van emitting illegal exhaust is providing?

He is angry, confused. He drives at least 300 miles a week.  He needs a good vehicle.

Why has obtaining this car become such a nightmare?  Is it not God's will? How expensive could it get?  And what if the car only runs for five months, after all this effort?  Since it's not insured or registered, James starts it up every couple weeks, but he doesn't drive it. It hasn't been driven for two years.

Husband is thinking of having his nephew, a car mechanic in PA, look over the car to see if the effort is worth it.  But will the nephew follow through? He has a myriad of problems in his life.  It's possible that a dealer would charge a fortune and conveniently find a lot of repairs.

Husband wonders what God expects from us.  Why is everything a hassle?

As he talks, I think of Peter.  They are so similar.  The low frustration threshold.  The anger.  The always counting hardships, never blessings. (Although Peter may be changing in that regard.)

I hear this about ADHD sufferers.  They see the world as glass-half empty. Waiting is agonizing. Everybody else has it better.  Anger boils under the surface.  Frustration abounds.  They lock their keys in the car.  Lose their keys.  The pace of life overwhelms.  Expectations choke.  They disappoint others, then themselves.

I listen.  I empathize.  I pray while he talks.

God does give good gifts.  No one will convince me otherwise.  I reject any other notion.....though I keep this to myself.

My son continues to chew on his badly chapped hands as he works through the problems.  They're easy for him.  He's enjoying math today.

I won't pity him, Lord.  I won't.

I won't pity my husband.

I won't be dragged down into the pit.

I want to comfort them, love them, mercy them.  But not go into the pit with them.

God only gives good gifts.  ADHD and it's ugliness?  OCD and it's ugliness?  Anger they can't seem to stifle, no matter how hard they try?

They're all good gifts.  And I mustn't pity.  Love, mercy, grace.  But not pity.

Lord, help me listen in love.  Respond with grace.

I can't make it fair.  I can't sugar-coat something I don't understand.  I can't make someone say yes to disorder.  Yes to an unreliable van.  Yes to two years and counting of underemployment and stress.

I must trust you to take care of them. Trust you to flood them with your lovingkindness.  Trust you to minister to their innermost needs.

What does it really mean to suffer with someone?  How deep do you go with them?  This is a question for anyone who resides with struggling loved ones.

I believe we must suffer with them in love, but not go into that pit of despair. Our own joy, our own peace, must remain intact.

They must wrestle alone with God.  They must come to terms with this life, with God's upside-down world.  We all do this God-wrestle, at some point in our lives.  No one can take our place in the ring.

The outcome?  Hopefully, full surrender.

The man who wrote the hymn It Is Well With My Soul suffered a tragic loss days before penning the hymn.  Here is the story (source found here):

Horatio Spafford (1828-1888) was a wealthy Chicago lawyer with a thriving legal practice, a beautiful home, a wife, four daughters and a son. He was also a devout Christian and faithful student of the Scriptures. His circle of friends included Dwight L. Moody, Ira Sankey and various other well-known Christians of the day.

At the very height of his financial and professional success, Horatio and his wife Anna suffered the tragic loss of their young son. Shortly thereafter on October 8, 1871, the Great Chicago Fire destroyed almost every real estate investment that Spafford had.

In 1873, Spafford scheduled a boat trip to Europe in order to give his wife and daughters a much needed vacation and time to recover from the tragedy. He also went to join Moody and Sankey on an evangelistic campaign in England. Spafford sent his wife and daughters ahead of him while he remained in Chicago to take care of some unexpected last minute business. Several days later he received notice that his family's ship had encountered a collision. All four of his daughters drowned; only his wife had survived.

With a heavy heart, Spafford boarded a boat that would take him to his grieving Anna in England. It was on this trip that he penned those now famous words, When sorrow like sea billows roll; it is well, it is well with my soul.

This man's journey with God amazes me.  I love reading this story over and over. I want to live like this. Feel like this. Journey with God like this.

During yesterday's church sermon the pastor showed us a video clip of a 33-year-old aspiring pastor who had just taken a job as an IT guy at a mega church.  He and his wife and three kids were ecstatic.  For three months they were on top of the world.

Suddenly, after a life of perfect health, the young man was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer.  He was confused, dazed.  Why now?  Why me?  He had surgery and four months of miserable chemotherapy, which completely eradicated the cancer.  He was cancer free.  He and his family spent a glorious month celebrating.  Then, a month later, they learned the cancer had come back elsewhere.  He learned nothing more could be done medically. Do you know what he said in the video?

 "I'm praying that God heals me, but I know I may not live to see 2011.  I want to see my daughter and sons walk down the aisle.  I want to grow old with my wife.  I hope God heals me.  If He does, then He's a good God.  If He doesn't heal me, He's still a good God.  Through this experience, I've become a better father, better husband, better friend, better employee, better Christian. God has been glorified.  God is always good."  (Not an exact quote, but this is how I remember it.)

The young man died in May, 2010.

God is always good.

I want this kind of surrender in my life. In my son's life.  In my husband's.

And for you, friend.


May it be so Lord!

(Details shared with my family's permission.)