Another Lighthouse Update

For those following this miracle with me, here's a recent update from Toben on his wife, Joanne, whose story I first posted on January 13th in an entry entitled Lighthouse. I don't know what you think about such events when they defy what's logical, typical, and even - on some level - real but, as for me and my house, we will praise the Lord.

For Joanna. And for Congresswoman Giffords. Two neurological catastrophes on their way to restoration. For medicine. And gifted doctors. And for the ones I hold dear who need Joanne's story to fall into the "win" column after a season of some tough hits to faith.

Really, it's proof of what was true all along. Of what's always true.
He is good.

So Much Good News

"Ok, here's the deal: Joanne's new neurologist came to see her
today. Looked a the MRI, the EEG and did some tests (basically involving
pinching Joanne hard to see if she would respond to pain) and the long
and the short of it is that she expects Joanne to have strong recovery
including use of much of her left side. She may have weakness in her
left leg but the left arm is looking pretty good. Speech may be slightly
effected and she may process a little more slowly then she used to, but
she is battling her way back! Ultimately only time will tell, but this
is the best news we have heard so far.

Everyone is heavily emphasizing that this is going to be a long
process. Joanne will probably be in some form of intensive, in patient
rehab for the next three months. But with a lot of work, she can make
significant process.

At this point Joanne is still pretty much unconscious (not opening
her eyes much) because of brain swelling but she is reactive. She may
remain so for the next couple of weeks "until her brain is ready to turn
itself back on." But what we know for sure is that she can hear us and
and respond to us.

So, encouraging news for sure!

Prayer requests:

1. Joanne will have a tracheostomy tomorrow and will have a feeding
tube surgically inserts at 10:30. Simple procedure and easily reversible
and will make her much more comfortable and less prone to infection.
THis is a good thing for Joanne and she will probably need the support
that these devices provide for the next couple of weeks, after which she
will be weened off of both.

2. The next decision is rehab or LTAC (long term acute care). Hoping
to have this decision by the end of the week and is entirely dependent
on the progress that Joanne makes over the next few days. Pray that the
next facility will be as awsome as the one we are at now.

3. PRAISE, PRAISE, PRAISE!

Toben"

My Brother Did It...

...on Christmas Day.
Which was very cool.
It's our dad's grave.
Miss him.
Which is all I have to say.

Before The Memory Fades

In that sugary monotone reserved for museum tours and flight instructions: "At this point in your reading experience, we shall depart current time and dimension to travel back to 2010 where we revisit Christmas past...

since Candice has not accessed her camera for over a month."

I know, I know! But will you bear with me? Since this blog is as much a record of our life for us as it is a rendering of our life to you, I want to get some memories posted before said memory fades altogether (these days, that's more likely than you might imagine).

I'll start with Christmas cookies. For no reason in particular, exactly; just that I love this tradition our kiddos and their Nana. This was the first year all three could truly experience the full spectrum, from rolling to cutting to frosting to decorating: and now that Judd is old enough to partake with his brother and sister, the warmings of the heart increased tenfold.

Just look at the pleasure they took in their creations!

Judd's masterpiece...cut and sprinkled himself! Elijah made two giant stockings...one for himself and one for "Big Daddy." They were so covered in sugar they bore risk of diabetic shock; yet, when consumed, they were relished. Yep.

Sometimes memories can't happen without a little help from a friend.

And sometimes memories are in the details...ones of time and precision and artistry...until you get these in the end.

Yes, that's the manger scene on Grace's cookie.

The days leading to the holiday were also filled with parties and games and food - and even Grace's first piano recital.

Here she is with her sweet friend, Ally, who also debuted her skills.

One of the aforementioned parties was with Nana at her company shin-dig where Judsen got in on the cake walk

and actually did a great job listening to the music and following the squares. So well, in fact...

...he won a turtle cake. He was mighty proud. The lickerish grin was accompanied, if I recall correctly, with a plea to break open the cake on the spot.
Said plea was promptly kaboshed.
He also got a balloon. Of course, as is his way, what at first blush was mildly astounding fast became rather elating.

And buddies all were we.

This One's For You

Ever pick up text - of any sort - and find it wallops you with that peculiar but oddly invigorating message of "This one's for you"? You see a billboard, thumb a magazine, spy a fb post...whatever...and it's like a douse of cold water?

Today, I had one such experience during my devotional, one that reminded me that not all in life is rational. (But, oh, if wishing made it so.) Alas, I cannot just think everything out because the intellect demands data I cannot always grip. Thus, we need faith, so that when it dawns on us what we think we tightly grip is nothing but wind between our fingers, we're more able to let it roll. And find change on the other side.

So here's my wallop.
You never know - maybe it'll be yours, too.

In one sense the road back to God is a road of moral effort, of trying harder and harder. But in another sense it is not trying that is ever going to bring us home. All this trying leads up to the vital moment at which you turn to God and say, "You must do this. I can't." Do not, I implore you, start asking yourselves, "Have I reached that moment?" Do not sit down and start watching your own mind to see if it is coming along. That puts a man quite on the wrong track. When the most important things in our life happen we quite often do no know, at the moment, what is going on. A man does not always say to himself, "Hullo! I'm growing up." It is often only when he looks back that he realizes what has happened and recognizes it as what people call "growing up". You can see it even in simple matters. A man who starts anxiously watching to see whether he is going to sleep is very likely to remain wide awake. [...] And what matters is the nature of the change in itself, not how we feel while it is happening. It is the change from being confident about our own efforts to the state in which we despair of doing anything for ourselves and leave it to God."
~ C. S. Lewis, Mere Christianity

After All

To take a cue from Alexander, last week I had a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. My brother did, too, as an aside, and there was a point when I could've easily borrowed his status update (warning: if blotted-out profanity offends you, click away now) for it read, quite simply: "S#^* on this day. I'm out." Doesn't that just say it all?

The day's fallout was as exhausting to process and it was to address but, as is the case with all terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days, I had opportunity to learn a thing or two. Like that, despite my many faults, standing up and taking ownership for where I blow it is still a strength in my character. And I learned that trying to live outside your skin is rarely (what I want to say is never but never say never, right?) a good idea.

But the biggest lesson I learned wasn't a new one at all; rather, it was more of a boxing of the ear or clocking on the head that reminded me of what I already know. All waves eventually wash to ripples and nothing is as big as the emotion behind it pushes to swell. Or, in a twist of the obvious: it's only as complicated as we make it, so just choose to let it go as you file another in the live and learn column.

So what was the lesson?

Perspective. For me, it seems it always is. Friday night was a long-ago scheduled Girls Night Sleepover at my mother-in-law's house for me and Grace. We ate, we laughed, we snuggled up by a fire, and dwelled as family....not one tension to be had. Saturday brought dinner with old friends and recollections of fond memories while simply being. And Sunday I stood in our church with many people I didn't know and reflected on how small and contrived our issues can actually be in the face of Africa or massive strokes.

But best of all, I remembered anew the power of marriage to my best friend who understands me better than even I do and never fails to have my back.

I am so thankful for the markers in life that remind us to just calm down. To breathe. To celebrate the "so much" we have rather than the bits of what we've lost. Or, as I recently posted on FB, to know that we are blessed beyond measure...and that's sayin' somethin'.

Kind of makes a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day not nearly so much after all.

Lighthouse Update

I thought it time for an update on Joanne and Toben Heim, whose family was the center of my January 13th post, "Lighthouse". I've included a link to Joanne's blog again which is, as I mentioned, being updated by her fellow-writer and faithful husband, Toben.

He brings up a great deal to consider, namely what us married folk might do in such a situation, what we might think, feel, consider, reason. For, most truly speaking, who could honestly know?

Still, the consideration is worth the effort. Perhaps worth its reward.

So, for your perusal and prayer....

The Simple Life.

Reverse That

If I could control pain - its measure, its type, its center of impact - I'd know the remedy for it. And, so it follows, if I knew it's remedy, then I'd surely impart the cure.

But I cannot control pain. Not its measure. Nor its type. Definitely not its center of impact. I've no remedy.

But I do share a thought, one that left me thinking how often we might consider pain in this light, within these priorities, and then flippantly (and probably with a snort of disgust) quip, "Reverse that."

But consider the byzantine reflections of one C.S. Lewis:

"[...I offer] my readers my conviction that when pain is to be borne, a
little courage helps more than knowledge, a little human sympathy more
than courage, and the least tincture of the love of God more than all."
~ The Problem of Pain

So you see, if you've thought all along that the response to pain is first a stroke of courage, then a mighty dose of human sympathy, and (last and probably least) a skosh of God's love...well, perhaps we might all consider again.

And reverse that.

Lighthouse

I've often written of my treasured friend, Zee (Michelle Zitzmann). On Wednesday, she called, distraught, to tell me of chilling news regarding an old and dear friend she and her beloved, Steve, once lived in Life Group with (a group of friends journeying together through life's ups, downs, and in-betweens as they practice the disciplines of study, prayer, and fellowship to God).

Their friends, Joanne and Toben, have been married just over 19 years and have two little girls. Joanne suffered what I can only glean must be a "massive" stroke and remains in critical condition after two surgeries to treat her precarious condition. However, we do not lose hope. Though I do not know them personally, whomever Zee and Steve love, so then do I - and I freely admit to feeling a deep and profound emotional response to their story.

I'm posting here, in its entirety, Toben's latest post on Joanne's blog. It is so poignant, I do not wish to risk broken links and the like lest you miss out on such a tender reflection of love, hope, and faith.

Or put even better: some stories are such lighthouses of promise - of what we're most capable of at our best - in a world of tossing storms and threatening tides, they should, quite simply, be told. And heard.

Please join me in praying for this family.

What a Day

I can't even remember what I wrote in the last post and am too tired
to bother to look. Let me tell you what is going on at this very
minute. it is 9:06. The lights are low in Joanne's room. There are
hums and beeps and hissing noises coming from the dozen or so machines
that Joanne is attached to. The other noise: David Crowder playing
quietly on her iMac next to her bed. It is a weird juxtaposition
hearing his melodies and heartfelt lyrics mixed with such mechanical
utterances from all the machines.

The gory details: Joanne has in a nasal gastric tube that runs to her
stomach through her nose. She is on a ventilator that goes into her
throat to her lungs through her mouth. She has a drain from the incision
in her skull that is syphoning off the excess fluids and she has a
pressure monitor imbedded in the incision stick out of the top of her
head that monitors the swelling in her brain. She has IVs in both arms
and a Picc line in that extends directly into her heart. Not to mention
the 50 or so staples closing the incision from her "skull-ectomy". In
short, the girl has hoses and lines and wires running everywhere! But
you know what? She still looks beautiful to me. And she is at rest.

Michelle is her night nurse. I think night nurses are heros.
Michelle does everything she can to make Joanne comfortable including
repositioning her on the bed so that she doesn't get "bored" of being in
the same position all the time. She check vitals, monitors her response
capability: "Squeeze my hand Joanne!" Each nurse on the ward only has
two patients. She said she's not supposed to play favorites, but she
like Joanne the best.

I love having so many visitors and so much support during the day,
but having Joanne all to myself at night is nice. Being near her calms
me a great deal. Hopefully she is aware enough to be calmed by my presence too. I guess that comes with the territory for a couple married just over 19 years.

Here's my thought: not that much has changed in our relationship. She
is still here, she is still the love of my life, she is still the one I
want to grow old with. Her inability to talk or respond yet doesn't
really change any of that.

Enough of this writing. Time to hold hands with my girl.

Toben

Sockdolager

If you missed reading about my sincere affection for Dictionary.com in my post You Really Ought to Know, you can follow the link to catch up. But if you heard about it the first time, stay with me now because I'm enamored with a new linguistic beau.

sockdolager \sok-DOL-uh-jer\, noun:

1. A decisive reply, argument.
2. Something unusually large, heavy, etc.
3. A heavy, finishing blow.

And here are the ever-important usage examples:

WHACK! - bum! bum! bumble-umble-um-bum-bum-bum-bum - and the thunder would go rumbling and grumbling away, and quit - and then RIP comes another flash and another sockdolager.
-- Mark Twain, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

"Your first day awake with us was some sockdolager," Andy said. "You handled them sharps slick as grease."
-- Darryl Brock, If I Never Get Back

But don't forget the interesting trivia they provide:

Sockdolager is an odd American combination from the 1830s. Its probable components are sock, as in "striking a blow," and doxology, "a fervent hymn to god." Sockdolager is also possibly the last word Abraham Lincoln heard before he was assassinated.

Fascinating, no?

But this word is perfect for me because of its "cousin" version I often use when a skosh of spirited debate becomes not only necessary but long-standing (you'll hear it from Craig, too)...

"Checkmate!"

So, if you hear me decry, "Sockdolager!" in future posts or, for those of you in the immediate vicinity of verbal contact, everyday conversation, you'll know I've struck the Dictionary.com goldmine...and come out richer yet again.

Harlem Globetrotters

We don't do Santa. Decided we wouldn't after a heady discussion we listened in on not long after we were married...which is another blog entirely.

Suffice it to say, Santa Claus never comes to our town; instead, we open presents from one another on Christmas Eve and, on Christmas morning, we dig through stockings that Mommy (not Santa) fills followed by the kiddos opening their Jesus presents. Yep, Jesus presents.

We teach them that, since Jesus is the most profound, endearing, and saving gift we'll ever receive, it is most appropriate to associate your best gift with the Giver of all things. We also remind them that, since He's gifted us with life everlasting, why not want to give Him your own best gift: that of your life, your love, and your lifetime of faith?

Each year, we dedicate time as a Mommy & Daddy reflecting on who each of our babies have become over the course of the last year: Have they developed a particular passion? Has a talent or gifting emerged somewhere over the last 12 months? Was there a realization shared, an epiphany come upon, or a new goal determined? Whatever answers we find, therein lies their gifts.

Grace emerged as a new kind of reader in 2010, for example. As the degree of difficulty has risen in material, she's matched her wits and interpretation to it: now we're having great discussions not just about the plot or characters but about what said characters mean when they say, "I never relished risk until I took a step of faith." And oh the reward of such great conversations! Her gift package, then, highlighted her love of reading - and all the ways it's grown.

So you get the idea.

This year, Elijah discovered a true gift...for basketball. He's pretty darn skilled! And he genuinely likes it, a fact we haven't found with other sports he's tried. One November afternoon, I was watching the local news when a commercial came on announcing a one-night showcase of the Harlem Globetrotters was coming to town.

[Aside: LOVE the HG's!]

Have wanted to see them live since I was a little girl myself. I immediately called Craig and said, "I think this is the Jesus present!" He readily agreed and instantly began working with his company's concierge to secure a couple of tickets.

And tonight is Harlem Globetrotter night! Elijah and his daddy are paintin' the town with dinner and the HG's. Elijah is excited, yes, but in that way children are when, outside of Mom and Dad's unrestrained delight of explanation and some YouTube videos, they have no independent knowledge of what's going to happen. But I've no doubt he'll come home regaling their antics, firmly planting a memory for a lifetime of a Daddy-Son good time - punctuated by a gift suited perfectly to one thing he "became" in 2010.

Now that's a Jesus present.
Just like him.

Harlem Globetrotters Tricks 2010

See you on the blog!

With the new year in full swing, I find it's time to start making time (again) for blogging. I consciously took a break for the last few weeks because writing, for me, is sometimes like exercise and weight loss.

The key is to break away from the routine. In so doing, I re-discover that which drew me in the first place - and I relish in the fruits of new exploration. Vacations and sick kiddos are usually the two dominant reasons I end up on "gym recess"; but, when I hit it again, I hit it hard and find myself fitter and trimmer on the other end (and I'm all for the fitter). Writing, for a true writer, often renders the same scenario - and not everyone is a writer. Which is more than okay. A writer compulsively engages artistically weaving language because she has to, I think - no different than how many approach painting, running, playing music, or verbally communicating: in short, they simply are painters, runners, musicians, or speakers...for the sheer joy of it.

But, like any happy compulsion, writing requires I break to locate new inspiration. So here's to 2011 and a whole new year of crafting, not just the written word but the life it attempts to detail.

See you on the blog!