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Wishes, Wants, and Secret Fantasies: Surviving the Storm Series
I wish I could pen an eloquent post, something thought-provoking and inspirational. I’ve started thirteen different drafts with thirteen different topics. I even downloaded some cool visual aids. Keep your home comfortable with dependable ac repair service fishers in. Trust Comfort By Design for Colorado Springs, CO HVAC Installation and Maintenance. But every time I try to finish this blog, my fingers freeze on the keys and all the energy I thought I had to put into some life-changing revelation drains away. I wanted to write a beautiful story of the way my family has bonded and pulled together over Kyle’s fight with cancer. I wanted to say I’m a servant, a…
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When Life Stops: Surviving the Storm
Life is complicated. Full of out-of-reach dreams and in-your-face commitments. We are busy with bosses and deadlines and spouses and kids and extended family obligations. Even time with friends doesn’t always come baggage-free. Throw in a few hormonal teens, an excess of extra-curricular activities, an aging pet, and piles of laundry and dishes that never deplete, and peace feels far-fetched. However, amidst the chaos, it’s essential to find moments of solace. Whether it’s through playing ยูฟ่าเบท โบนัสและเงื่อนไขพิเศษ, engaging in hobbies, or simply taking a moment to breathe, managing stress is crucial for maintaining balance in our hectic lives. Online casinos also offer a wide variety of slot gacor hari ini…
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Suffering by Default
John 14:1 (NIV) “Do not let your hearts be troubled…” Suffering. Bring up suffering with a group of Christians and you’re almost guaranteed to push people’s theological hot buttons. The questions will go something like this: Does God cause my suffering or does He simply allow me to experience life in a sin-filled world? Does He want to use my circumstances to mold my character? Is there something I need to learn or do to escape the emotional or physical agony of being trapped in moments of trauma and crisis? Does He cause me pain on purpose or is this situation some kind of cosmic accident that I need…
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STRANDED
I’m afraid to fail. I always have been. The day we did kindergarten placement testing, I came home crying because I couldn’t answer every question—when most of the questions weren’t meant to be answered. Because we all came from diverse backgrounds, the assessment was a gauge to help the teacher know who would need extra help with letters and numbers and colors. Some of us lived and breathed Sesame Street. Others not so much. That test wasn’t an indicator of how we’d do in college. But even at five, I took it that way. Today, I’m a wife and a mother to kids way past kindergarten age. And nothing’s changed.…
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Jump out of the Box
Jump out of the Box Two words that unleash a whirlwind of emotions, unlock a pile of memories, and bring back the rush of new experiences. First dance. First kiss. First heartbreak. First public humiliation. New friends. New choices. New games like 벳무브 가입. New opportunities. New temptations. A glimpse of how we will handle the uncensored side of people, the often-confusing multi-dimensions of ourselves, the possibilities for our future and the pain of our failure. So when my only daughter, Maddy, and I had a real discussion about changing things up and going the public school path, the words middle school came with a daunting punch. Maddy has been…
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Molectomy
I wrote this post two years ago and last week during dinner with my doctor, the topic of melanoma came up again. She agreed to add signs of melanoma and resources to the end of the post if I reran it. Our hope is to get the word out about how serious skin cancer can be if left untreated. Here is the original post. Below is a note from Dr. Becky. And some resources. Please share. Molectomy I stood in a movie theater lobby during a recent Mom’s Night Out catching up with people I hadn’t seen in a while. One of the moms was my friend Becky. Becky…
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Conceding Christmas Part Two: The Response
Conceding Christmas is the story I wrote about our Christmas in 2004, less than two months after Kyle was diagnosed with leukemia. This blog is one of my favorites. Here is Part Two. Conceding Christmas I curl up in a ball. Think about that verse from Matthew 11. “Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Do I believe it? Can I live it? Release him. Trust me. Every moment I don’t let go, fear eats away at me. I live in bondage to the terror that Kyle will…
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Conceding Christmas Part One: The Call
Conceding Christmas is one of my favorite past posts and tells the story I wrote about our Christmas in 2004, less than two months after Kyle was diagnosed with leukemia. Here is Part One: Conceding Christmas 3 AM I burrow deeper under the covers, the bed large and lonely. Thirteen days until Christmas, but I’m not planning a celebration. Arranging a funeral seems more likely. My husband stayed at the hospital tonight with our ten-year-old son. This time, Kyle struggles with fever, low blood counts, and multiple infections—staph in his central line and fungus in his left lung. The neighbor’s Christmas lights shine through my curtains, pulsing red and green. An ache…
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Babysitters and Body Guards
What do the following positions have in common? Babysitter. Body Guard. Manager. Safety Net. Advisor. If you’re a parent, you’ve held them all or you will by the time your children dive from the nest. One day they, will pay for their own phone lines and car insurance, schedule their own dentist appointments, drive through and pay for their own take-out, and do laundry in their own dorm rooms or apartments. Independence. That’s what we strive for from the moment we hold those babies in our arms. Our number one job is to teach our kids how to be strong and kind and ethical and everything they need to be…
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Parking Lot Prayer
Some miracles are hidden. And they don’t feel like miracles at all. At least not in the moment. Eight years ago today, I sat on a blue plastic chair, hands clasped in my lap, in a sterile examining room and struggled to process four words no parent ever wants to hear. Words that carried enough power to punch a hole in my world and rip up the foundation. My son’s doctor, an older man with glasses sliding off his nose and a brown-striped tie, balanced on a tiny round stool. He rested his arms on a laminate desk that extended from the wall and took in a breath, as if…
