Family Slant: Cambodia

Heart Surgery

2011-10-03T22:44:00.001-04:00

Today Noah underwent open heart surgery at the Mott's Children Hospital at U of M. His surgery lasted about four hours and as far as we can tell everything went well. The surgeon, Dr. Hirsch, said his aorta was narrowed down to the size of a pinhole. This explains why Noah could scarcely walk anywhere without complaining of leg pain (and we thought he was just wimpy!!!).

We are thankful this was addressed quickly (he was diagnosed in August) especially after finding how narrowed it was. We were also told to prepare for the possibility of him being opened from the front and put on a heart and lung machine due to an unnatural narrowing he also has on the arch of the aorta. We are SO glad that the surgeon was able to go in from the side between his ribs and get to the heart that way. The surgeon also prepared us for the possibility that he may have to have open heart again some point in his life (and opened from the front) to deal with the narrow arch. After surgery she said there's a good chance we won't need to.

Tonight we were allowed to see him for a few minutes in the PICU. It's scary to see your child completely incapacitated and looking so fragile. He's not breathing on his own yet, hopefully in the next day or so he can be weaned from the vent. The nurse said this surgery is more painful than cracking the ribs, he's on morphine for the pain. What a blessing anesthesia and pain meds are! One of the hardest thoughts for me is his complete bewilderment and confusion at his pain and new surroundings. How terrifying for a little boy, I'm glad he knows nothing of it right now.

My wonderful mom and dad are with us and I'm so glad. Such a comfort and help for us. Calvin is also with us, we didn't dare leave him since he's been so fragile lately. Everybody naturally thought Calvin was the one in for the heart surgery. We would say, "No, this is Noah," and point to the completely healthy looking child. They didn't know quite what to say :)

We are so grateful to the Lord for good news this far. We are encouraged and humbled by your prayers for Noah, thank you.

When Things Don't Get Better

2011-09-29T20:37:00.003-04:00

“Have faith, things will work out. God always works things out.”

“Have patience, things will get better. Just trust God.”

These hasty dismissals from well-intended passerbys mock me. Taunt me.

Because things are not working out. At least not in the way I’d hoped.

This past week we spent countless hours rescuing our one-year-old son as his body turned blue. Over and over. Breathing into him, frantically calming him so his airway would not collapse. Suctioning him as he vomited repeatedly and choked as it went back down. Death wasn’t my main fear. It was the threat of further brain damage. Further debilitation to his already severely disabled body.

We’ve waited over a year a half for “things to get better”. My mother-in-law used to always try to rally our spirits with, “Keep your chin up, things will get better.” She doesn’t say that anymore. What if the pain and problems don’t go away or get better? What if they get worse? Where is God then? What if His providence fills you with foreboding instead of comfort?

Next week we will give our other son, four-year-old Noah, over to the surgeons. The surgeons who will open him and cut out a part of his heart. We will turn him over to machines that keep his lungs and heart alive.

Somewhere in the exhaustion of the night, the anguish of watching Calvin struggle, and trepidation of our Noah’s surgery, a hard word quietly escaped my mouth, “Curses.”

It seemed that God had turned on us. We had just prayed fervently to the Lord, giving Noah over to His hands. As we prayed and spent the days trusting the Lord with his future it felt like He stood in front of us and unflinchingly knocked us over to the ground while we were bowing before Him.

No longer did God seem our refuge and fortress. He began to be the enemy in my mind. Didn’t He know we had more than we could handle? Didn’t He know that we were barely keeping it together? Didn’t He care we were exhausted and already feeling broken? Didn’t He know we needed to be put together again? Instead it felt like we were being finished off, ground under His heel.

It’s terrifying to think of God Jehovah as an enemy. Who can stand before Him? We have no right for blessing. But we desperately want it, need it. And when it doesn’t happen we rage, “Whose side are you on anyway? It doesn’t seem like mine.” And then guilt clouds our soul because our own barrenness glares sharply back at us and we know we have no right for mercy.

We are left to whisper quietly, Search me O Lord. Why is Your hand so heavy on us? Where is the glory in this?

Where is the glory in this? This probably would have been my thought too if I had stood at the cross of the one who died two thousand years ago, Jesus the Christ. Naked, defeated, shamed. How could there be glory in something so tragic? But there was. The very picture of defeat was God’s picture of triumph, redemption, possibility. Where there was brokenness there was a place for God to change the world of sinners.

And so I take my own picture of brokenness and pain. I lay it at the feet of the Lord and I plead, Have mercy. Don’t let defeat and sorrow be the final chapter. Turn these sorrows into the greatest joys our lives. Turn these defeats into inlets for Your mighty work. Take Your hand and cover this brokenness with the fullness of the Savior.

The picture of our life keeps changing. Make it more like You, Lord. Help me to let go of the way I thought it would be.

EN ROUTE

2011-09-06T08:00:00.000-04:00

Today's moving day!

Come on over to En Route.

See you after the jump.

The Start of Something New

2011-09-05T10:39:00.001-04:00

Happy Monday, friends! There are a few changes happening in this little space of the world wide web. This site is moving, but before sending you on over here is some further ado. Or perhaps a preface for the move.

Quite honestly I find it rather disturbing how much self-promotion tempts me and other bloggers. Usually bloggers with really good things to say. It starts out like that, somebody has an important contribution and gains readers. That's great. But then the head starts to swell up and well, I'm really somebody, huh? Before you know it you find Christian leaders posting facebook updates with short pithy sayings multiple times a day and posts with shocking titles. Is it a screen for marketing or gaining readers in order to promote self or God? Although I can't label their motives (maybe they are good), I think in my case it would be self-promotion.

Yucky pride. I'm saying this all to myself, especially as I prepare to move this site over to a new spot. I have no sort of rage following but my heart is just as susceptible to pride, it's like a plant that bends toward the sun. Our stalks always want to bend towards the sun of affirmation from others, our name's notability and abilities. We need to stand straight, pointing upwards and lifting our meager stalks to heaven, confessing there is no good thing in us. Any good, any wisdom, any gain is given from the hands of our Maker, the Lord God.

Whoever we are, whatever scope of influence we may have (huge or tiny), these are our requirements:

Micah 6:8

He has told you, O man, what is good;

and what does the Lord require of you

but to do justice, and to love kindness,

and to walk humbly with your God?

If any of these requirements are met, it's only because of Christ enabling us. We are desperately wicked, desperately self-seeking. This temptation shouldn't make folks run to the hills, but continue on using their abilities and turning any praise, any affirmation directly over to the Lord Jesus, the giver of these gifts.

Whew, now I've spilled all the beans on the table.

I'll be in this space tomorrow with the new site address.

Sermon Notes (from a 4-year old)

2011-09-02T14:53:00.001-04:00

I found Noah's sermon "notes" stuffed in the pocket of his church pants. While I do appreciate his artistic side I'm really scratching my head to find any remote connections between his notes and the sermon.

Now that I think about it the figures on the bottom remind me of the last picture from the book "Five Little Monkeys with Nothing To Do." Hmmm....

How do you get your young ones (5 and under) to be attentive in church? Are they just there to learn the skill of sitting quietly or should we expect them to glean what they can from the sermon?

a day in the life (18)

2011-08-30T15:17:00.000-04:00

POST EDIT: I think it is an amazing consolation how the Lord comforts us in surprising ways when we are most undeserving and even in times of self-pity. The same day this happened we also met our new therapist who is the head of the department of pediatric therapy at GVSU. She also "happens" to be a Christian and took special time to encourage Calvin and I though knowing nothing of the dark cloud hovering above me these days. It humbles me to be put in my place again, God is here, He is not remote, and He even sends little breadcrumbs to reassure me. -Kara

We were arriving late. No matter how we try to make it to church on time it seems like something always interferes; the feeding pump, Calvin's startling, or kids searching for Sunday shoes.

"Why don't you stay home?" Darryl suggested as I struggled to put on something half-way put together. "No," I insisted, "we'll make it, just give me two minutes. Can you grab diaper, wipes, and feeding tube?" We left it at that and scurried around tripping over kids that were trying to fill their pockets with church candy, searching for their Bible and donning their hats.

We piled into the van with no time to lose. No sooner than pulling out of the driveway Calvin began to stiffen and spasm. The brakes slammed, I whipped open the side door, put him on my lap, and we rode to church.

Hearty singing greeted us as we reached the church and slipped into the last row. We had made it, though scarcely in fine form. My shirt had large spots of drooling nicely standing out on both shoulders and on my chest. Nice. I stifled my frustration with Calvin, even though I knew he had no control over it.

His breathing was rattly and noisy and was amplified by my concern to keep him quiet. Evie wiggled constantly next to me and whined to be put on my lap. Everything happening in the present was a picture of my week. Chaos and upheaval frustrating me to no end.

There's no place for us anymore, I thought to myself. There's no place for noisy drooling kids with beeping monitors. What am I going to do when he gets bigger? How will I be able to lift him and keep him comfortable at home? Will I ever have a life? Will we ever be able to sit through a church service? Once you start asking questions like this there is no end.

I forced my mind to listen to the words floating through the church. It was a beautiful message on heaven. It should have softened my heart and made me submissive to this life I'm called to, right now. Instead the words were like feathers bouncing off metal walls.

Bitterness came up in my heart. Today hurts. I know it's supposed to be small in comparison to the glory in heaven. But I can't get over this mountain now. I'm tired, I'm sore, and I've been broken up all week over Calvin. Couldn't some of that heaven start now? If you want me to hear these words than please can you make Calvin be quiet so I can listen?

But Calvin fussed on and I eventually left half-way through the service with a tear-stained face and drool-stained clothes and two kids in tow. Somehow it felt that this message for heaven wasn't for me.

Monday morning arrived with a treat, my dear friend Rebecca (who also happens to be one of the few people who can manage Calvin's care). Many days she is a breath of fresh air sent straight from heaven to our door.

Her and I cut to the chaise quickly. She looked kindly at me, "Oh Kara, I don't know how you feel exactly, but I heard a story last week about heaven. A little boy was bullied terribly in the fourth grade. He begged his dad to be home-schooled. He never wanted to go back to school, it was too hurtful, too painful. The father looked tenderly at him and said in the most compassionate way, "Oh my son, I don't want you to hurt or cause you pain, but I must send you back to that school. If you never finish fourth grade you won't be ready for what is next, fifth grade."

"And so the Lord hurts when we are in pain. He doesn't delight in our feelings of being overwhelmed or in pain. But he is using this for what is to come in this life, for what's next, and for heaven."

And then she sent me out the door and stayed to watch the kids while Calvin and I headed to Mary Free Bed for therapy. I quietly gave thanks, Thank you for sending a friend to show Your care even thought I couldn't stay for the sermon. Thank you for caring for your weakest ones.

Dwell In Thee

2011-08-26T14:19:00.003-04:00

I'm low lately. I think I might know why. These verses from Jeremiah 17 have arrested me. Perhaps I'm dwelling in a desert place? If that's you too, read this.

Thus says the Lord:

Cursed is the man who trusts in man

and makes flesh his strength,

whose heart turns away from the Lord.

He is like a shrub in the desert,

and shall not see any good come.

He shall dwell in the parched places

of the wilderness,

in an uninhabited salt land.

Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord,

whose trust is the Lord.

He is like a tree planted by water,

that sends out its roots by the stream,

and does not fear when heat comes,

for its leaves remain green,

and is not anxious in the year of drought,

for it does not cease to bear fruit.

With Darryl going back to work most of Calvin's care is on me. My arms are usually full from the waking hours until 10:30 at night. I feel tired, I worry about all sorts of things, and find myself walking by sight. It's then that my faith grows dim and all sorts of doubts rush in to take faith's place. I'm like that shrub in the desert and can't see any good coming and instead see struggling and despairing future. Wilted and defeated I withdraw even further from God and His Word.

I'd stay there too if it weren't for the love of the Father. He reaches down with His Word and puts it under my nose even when I'm reading out of habit. It breathes life back into my soul and truth fills me up.

I want to be like the tree with roots planted in Him, trusting in Him. Then I won't fear when trouble comes, my soul will be alive and I'll bear fruit. Anxious thoughts will leave. That's the power of being alive in Christ. He is the living part that infuses my wilted worrying self with life and hope.

I love this song from Kate's blog. We are never out of reach from the Lord's hand. No matter how far we travel to distant lands or leave green pastures. He leaves to look for us. This song comforts me and echoes my own restless heart. Make me to dwell in Thee.

Berry Delicious

2011-08-24T16:14:00.000-04:00

Summer is the time for warm berry-pickin' and mouth poppin' treats. Our favorite book for the season is Blueberries for Sal by Robert McCloskey. I keep coming back to McCloskey, he's on the list of my favorite authors/illustrators and this book is one of his best.

Join little Sal on a blueberry picking adventure. She does what all little kids do best while picking, stuffs her mouth rather than the bucket. Look familiar?

"Over on the other side of the hill, Little Sal ate all of the berries she could reach from where she was sitting, then she started out to find her mother." This is the part where Noah starts grinning.

Sweet!

Little Evie on her berry picking ventures. No bears though!

Berry picking with friends = fun+strawberry jam. Perfect equation. Thanks Rebecca and Emily!

Jam for the winter, yum :)

Folk Sounds

2011-08-17T22:16:00.005-04:00

I don't know what it is about folk music but it has been growing on me over the years. Something about mandolins, fiddles, ukuleles and guitars penetrates. I think it's beautiful.

This is my new favorite baby gift, You are My Little Bird by Elizabeth Mitchell.

We listened to this on a recent road trip and LOVED it, all of us. It's sweet, whimsical, childish, folksy, and memorable.

The kids favorite is Little Liza Jane. Have a listen, like?

My favorite is Three Little Birds. Love it. Many mornings we all randomly burst into "Woke up this morning, smiled at the rising sun. Three little birds, sat on my doorstep, singing a sweet song...." What fun :).

His Creation

2011-08-16T22:53:00.003-04:00

Even the darkness is not dark to you;

the night is bright as the day,

for darkness is as light with you.

For you formed my inward parts;

you knitted me together in my mother's womb.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

Wonderful are your works, my soul knows it very well.

My frame was not hidden from you,

when I was being made in secret,

intricately woven in the depths of the earth.

Your eyes saw my unformed substance;

in your book were written, every one of them,

the days that were formed for me,

when as yet there was none of them.

I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

a day in the life (17)

2011-08-15T14:27:00.001-04:00

We were shopping the clearance sales at Macy's. Darryl searched the racks for pants while I adjusted and re-adjusted Calvin in his stroller. His startling is bothering him so much lately. Mom and Dad Dedert were visiting and taking care of the rest of the kids while we spun out on this little date.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep. His little feeding pump was set off by a bubble of air. The people around us searching the racks looked a little closer. His white tube was suspended between his Dr. Seuss bag and his tummy. His eyes searched out the bright department store lights. Darryl focused on checkered pants and pleats or no pleats. I was caught up in the feeding pump and holding his arms tightly to relax his body, all the while tossing out my opinions. "No, too old-manish. Yup, like that color."

"Would you like an easy chair?" The employee of the suit department ushered me into the men's waiting area. "What's the tube for?" his concerned look was kind and fatherly. "It's a feeding tube," then as if sensing his next question I explained, "he has a neurological disorder." "He doesn't eat anything by mouth?" he asked surprised. "What are his problems?" I never quite know how to proceed, how do you dump a burden of sorrow onto a stranger's lap? How are they supposed to respond? "He can't move, he is nearly blind, he can't eat, but he can hear, loves music, and is adored by our family." He didn't have anything to say (and who can blame him) and offered, "I have a nine-month old grand-daughter." I bet he'll hug her a little tighter the next time he sees her.

Darryl had his pants picked out and we were off to pay. The cashier, Cara, looked curiously and carefully at Calvin. "How old is he?" I replied but knew she wanted more and really, wouldn't you rather have people care than ignore? I do. "Will he ever get better?" she asked expecting me to affirm. Sometimes looking for better makes us miss the good that's already here. I'd never been asked that before. My mind knows he won't but I carry on from day to day living in the present reality.

Maybe it's from the summer we've had thus far, a great summer. Calvin has been doing so well that I almost have forgotten how bad it gets. The weekend was a reminder that the summer is a reprieve from normal, not the new normal. We've enjoyed going to bed after Calvin, staying up to watch Lark Rise, waking up to a boy giggling in bed instead of screaming. It's been a new window into him, a sight of a boy contented and feeling well.

I might have forgotten about the storms he faces. I might have forgotten that hospice wasn't here just to help our family cope, but to help Calvin as he dies. I might have forgotten but a little storm sent reminded me quite quickly. It was early Sunday morning that Calvin woke blue and gasping. Another trip to ER to open his airways. Another trip home to care for him. And it's been another two days of caring for him as he coughs and chokes on secretions and struggles to find air.

Now I remember. I remember that Calvin is not going to get better. I remember that the reason he was photographed this morning along the beautiful banks of the Thornapple River is so we will have a memory. I remember how hard it is to see him choking and I remember how we flip-flopped in our decisions about his care.

My mind was spinning with all these things as we sat on the bank of the river this morning. Calvin sat in his chair listening to his brother, Noah, tap out merry tunes on his harmonica. All the while the photographer clicked away.

It's Complicated (Being 30)

2011-08-11T13:43:00.002-04:00

If turning thirty was just about getting older it wouldn't be so bad. The thought of being middle-aged (is that the 30's?) is surreal and leaves me feeling like I skipped a few spaces and am wearing shoes far too big for me.

See, when you're in your twenties people are forgiving, after all you're just beginning to figure out life whether that includes motherhood, marriage, career, and relationships. They smile when you show up at the church potluck with a flop of a meal, when your children arrive looking wild with hair askew, or when you pull up in a flurry of chaos. It's quickly forgiven with quiet sentiments of ahhh, she's young yet, she'll learn. But by thirty one should have a few things figured out. Surely! Right? I should know things by now.

And that's just one very little reason why being thirty makes me want to turn around and head for the hills of the twenties. The other one's bigger.

Turning thirty makes me want to live the twenties over (well...if I could skip the four pregnancies and just have the kids). Really I'd do it over if time could work that way. I'm tempted to look over my shoulder and see Regret, Sin, and Missed Opportunity lining up and taking a number. It makes me want to make up excuses for myself and try to change the past.

Time doesn't work that way and thankfully neither does God. He takes our failures, shows us our weakness and then gives us a view of His full sufficiency. He keeps us crossing over the fence, escaping the mire of our own failures into the pastures of possibility in Christ Jesus. It's in Him we can live, move and be.

Suddenly being thirty isn't nearly as daunting. It's exciting. I feel a sense of urgency to live, live strongly, live intentionally. I desire to deepen relationships with my husband, family, sisters!, friends, church family. I want to live focused and diligent in whatever my calling for the day is. I want to step out of my comfort zone and be useful in whatever capacity He designs. And yes, I also want to be a better cook and have things a little more together. I want to try to get my kids in pajamas every night instead of wearing their clothes. I digress.

God can transform our messes into places for His work. He can take our pain and suffering and turn them into platforms of opportunity. It's what He does. I'm like a dirty old coin on which you can barely make out the image on it. I hope the thirties bring about a vigorous dusting in my life and heart so that His likeness becomes clearer to Him as He looks at me.

Rachel Amariah

2011-08-05T22:43:00.005-04:00

One of the many gifts God has given is a friend I've never actually met, Kendra. Many of you have also followed her story linked from my blogroll. We shared a mutual friend in Cambodia and have walked the dark pathways together and have seen the Lord working out the same things in our lives. It's hard to explain the closeness that forms from walking through the same ways at the same time.

Today at 3:45 Kendra and Dave lost Rachel Amariah from this life. Could you pray for this dear family right now? Pray for comfort as they lay their little one in the grave. Isn't she beautiful?

Loss

2011-08-03T23:01:00.001-04:00

Calvin is still doing fantastic. Last night he slept from 11-8! I thought I woke on that solo vacation I've been dreaming about. But no, there he was snorting, smiling, and craning his head towards the light from the window. We haven't slept like that in almost two years.

I have no idea how long this good stretch will last. It's the longest it's ever been, perhaps due to the summer weather and lack or respiratory issues that always put him in such a downward spiral. I worry about this fall and winter but for now it's all enjoyment and relief in our home.

This peaceful stretch has made me realize some level of normalcy again in life and how stressful it is to be living in constant loss and suffering. I wrote a small little piece on loss. One of my weaknesses may be feeling things too much, but I that's all I know how to do. Feel it, think it, write it.

Loss comes in different ways. I've been thinking about my friend's mom with Parkinson's, a girl recently separated from her husband and struggling to care for her disabled daughter, a father fighting cancer, a family whose children have been unjustly taken away. I think all of those situations, especially those that surprise us, leave us with these sentiments.

The cool thing about having a blog is you can write what you like. So here it is folks, the editor's nightmare. And that's okay. I have no idea if it's poetry, an essay, or just freehand words. Whatever it is, it spilled out on paper and I wonder if you can relate to it too.

LOSS

Loss sweeps you off your feet.

It comes, uninvited, with no apology

It lifts you up, tips you upside-down

and shakes you til you're empty

and it's hard to find any piece of you left.

It broadsides you. You may be

looking up at the sun, reaching

for the next mercy that's before you.

It hits you from behind and your feet,

they flail wildly unable to touch

the ground and find security, stability.

Survival makes them quiet. Makes

them set down beneath you and move

forward shakily on this new ground.

Your hearts stays behind but your feet

they move, driven by routine,

producing a stilted rhythm but

it's in moving that your heart keeps

its beating and your life keeps on living.

They say time heals. Maybe it does.

But when I look back I still see

a deep, deep, hole. It has a sign

called LOSS at the edge. And a face

of a little boy there.

What face do you see?

But these feet shuffling forward

point my eyes to another spot. It is

a sign with GAIN written all over.

It also has the picture of

a little boy there.

In the folds of His providence

there are mercy treasures and

unexpected joys that my tired eyes

and slow heart never thought to see.

It continues beyond even what my

eyes can see.

So all these holes and
all these mercies exist, together.

The gains do not erase the loss.

And the loss opens our hearts to

gains we never imagined.

Sugar, Spice...

2011-07-29T23:31:00.001-04:00

and everything nice.

And the tea party was just that. We had a grand time at our first real tea party put on by long-time friend and party extraordinaire, Mary. You can see her beaming below with one daughter on her lap and the other (the birthday girl) swishing around in her beautiful dress and hat.

Mary has never done anything half-way. The girls sat at tables with real china, real tea, tea sandwiches, scones, fancy teapots, fresh flowers, and more. Girls and moms both recited poetry (I crammed the night before :) and it was delightful. It's hard to be stuffy when there are chubby little fingers digging into cake and delicate cucumber sandwiches squished into hungry mouths and handfuls of cookies being grabbed by eager little hands as the silver tray passed by.

Here's the birthday girl in the middle. These girls aren't posing but they sure are falling into their roles easily! It was a treat to watch all the girl swish about and pretend to be ladies. What fun they had!

Some were not quite as enthused (hello dear Evie)...but don't they look glamorous?

These are the things that fill a girl's fancies.

a day in the life (16)

2011-07-27T23:14:00.003-04:00

Parents of special-needs kids have all sort of unique (and often seemingly bizarre) things that have to be accommodated for; sensitivity to hot, cold, loud noises, inappropriate behavior, etc. Here's a story about one of Calvin's (and thus ours) challenges. This is not a complaint, just a window for you to see into.

Grocery shopping.

It's what was on my to-do list after supper. Darryl headed out the door with free tickets to a Whitecaps game (thanks, Dad!) and Sophie and cousin Elijah in tow.

Feet pounded out the door, car doors slammed and we were left in the quiet house. Noah, Evie, Calvin, me. Oh yeah, there were messy counters and a long grocery list full of items needed before dinner. Now it was after dinner. Overdue.

I weighed my options. It's not that taking kids to the grocery store is bad, nope, I like that part. It's the car ride that I dreaded. All week Calvin had been having a hard time controlling his startle reflex, making it hard to go anywhere in the car.

We piled in. Surely he would be fine, Meijers was only two miles away anyhow. Evie piled in back to her seat and I appointed Noah to be "the guard" on the ride over. The guard's responsibilities are this: sit in the seat opposite of Calvin and watch for his hands to fly out. If they fly out quickly grab his arms and bring them into the center. Talk to him and try to get him out of the startle position. Easy, right?

We were nearly at the main intersection and it started. Piercing shrieks that made my stomach lurch. Stronger than usual and out of control.

We were used to this routine. "Noah, grab his hands!" It was no use. His responses had been getting continually worse throughout the week. Today they were at his worst. I frantically looked for a place to pull over. There was no place. I turned to see Calvin turning blue (crying hard makes his airway collapse) with his legs and arms up in the startle position, stiff as iron. Noah stood in front of him desperately trying to stop it but our usual solution wasn't working this time.

The distressing shrieks continued to fill the van. It was frightening. It was no wonder that I saw little Noah's eyes begin to flood and then his body begin to shake. Soon his wails were matching Calvin's. Fear does that to you when you're scared for your little brother.

I stopped right there. Hazards on. In no time I whipped Calvin out the door and into my arms. Slowly he came around and his body relaxed slightly. There we sat in the middle of moving traffic, boy on my lap, and me not sure what to do.

So I did what I'd do in Cambodia. I put the tyke on my lap and we drove the rest of the way together, up there in the driver's seat. No doubt the people that pulled up next to me thought I was some sort of irresponsible mother. But little did they know (and little do we know about the people we quickly pass judgments on).

We made it safely and I added do not take Calvin to grocery store again by myself to my mental checklist.

I could see Noah wiping away tears in his seat. "It's not your fault, Noah. You did a very good job." His perplexed face met mine, "Whose fault is it? Why does he scream like that?" I sighed, "It's nobody's fault honey. It's his brain sending all the wrong messages to his body. You're a good brother to him."

We got out to conquer the next hurdles, namely, shopping without choking, vomiting, or startling, shopping with baby in my arms and two kids in tow, and actually getting all the items I needed.

Success.

And then we had to survive the ride home again. It's just another day in the life.

Summertime Reading

2011-07-21T23:02:00.001-04:00

Mom shops. I read. That's how we roll at our favorite bookstore.

Transforming Suffering to Opportunity

2011-07-18T23:48:00.001-04:00

These summer evenings find me soaking up books and messages. I've so enjoyed listening to a series by Ravi Zacharias, Convictions That Conquer the World, that I've listened to it twice. Ravi tells a story of a Chinese evangelist, Wang Ming-Dao, that moves me every time I hear it (I think I've replayed it 10 times!)

Mr. and Mrs. Wang Dao

This is an excerpt from Ravi Zacharias' address:

'A couple of years ago I was in Shanghai, China in the home of Wang Ming Dao, the Chinese evangelist. Sitting in his chair knarled like this, head thrown back, mouth half open, eyes barely focusing. His wife completely blind. But very good in his English communication even though the tongue seemed at times to struggle to even enunciate the words.

And with a fellow evangelist there he looked at us and told us the story how Mao Tse Tong, when he took charge, put several of the believers into prison included in which was Wang Ming Dao. When they put this famous evangelist in prison he said, “I began to fail, my spiritual strength began to cower and I slowly started to submit and I renounced my faith in God. And Mao Tse Tong had me released.”

“I was a free man from the prison, and I walked away free now, but all of a sudden I realized what I had done, and I realized whom I’d betrayed.” Wang Ming Dao was walking through the street of Beijing shouting at the top of his lungs, “My name is Peter, I have denied my Lord! My name is Peter, I have denied my Lord!”

Mao Tse Tong sent for him again and incarcerated him once again for 21 years. And as we sat in this tiny little apartment there and he told us the story of the 21 years, almost impulsively he broke into the strains of All the Way My Savior Leads Me.

This is the transformation of pain into a platform of opportunity.'

What a perfect illustration of how life without Christ is NOTHING. A life with Christ, no matter the trials, is rich and full and the ONLY way to live.

Duty Filled With Delight

2011-07-12T22:42:00.005-04:00

Many times I unwittingly insinuate God as a burden in my life instead of being my burden-bearer. Prayer, worship, evangelism, and just plain old living out the gospel in my life become tasks instead of the joy and refuge they were created to be.

Take my day for example (maybe you can relate).

I came down bleary-eyed and ready for that hot cup of coffee my dear hubby had waiting for me. (Bunny trail here: My parents gave me this coffee-maker for Christmas and life has never been the same. WOW. Now my friends come over for coffee and to visit...in that order.)

The pile of dishes also greeted me along with a dirty sink in need of scouring. I inwardly sighed, thinking of all the straightening and cleaning that needed to get done. I caught sight of my bible study book..."Oooooh yeah. That's this morning. I have so much to do, I really don't feel like going..." I chewed my lip deciding what to do. I packed up my Bible and workbook and headed out with Duty at the wheel and Delight in the backseat.

It never ceases to amaze me how willing the Lord is to pour into us even when we come with such unprepared and unwilling hearts. I'm distracted but He is purposeful and intentional in my life. I'm quick to put other things before my "duty" of seeking the Lord and yet He responds joyfully and at any time to those who call on His name.

Through His word and reminders of Himself (revealed in the Bible) my dead heart loses the the heavy burdens of duty and thoughts of self and becomes a pulsating heart beating with life, joy, and longing for Him. All my baggage gets dumped out of the wagon and gets filled up with thoughts of Him and my life IN Him.

My heart may be tired or my emotions worn but He finds a way to make me feel full of life and hope. The hope from His word turns into a song for my heart.

Look up, look up. Look away from the desolate landscape. I pour blessings in desert places. I find broken backward places and I redeem them. Give me your broken heart, pour out your heart to me, I will hear. Open your mouth wide, let me fill it. I will fill it up with my glory. I am greater than your fears. I am greater than death. I am your hope. I am the reason you go on. Trust me. Are you tired? Here is the Bread of Life. Receive strength from it. Are you crying? I am the Word made flesh. I know your sorrow. Do I understand? I have dwelt among you and am a man acquainted with grief. Do you long for protection? I will hide you away in the cleft of the rock. You are mine, I will keep you, I know the very number of hairs on your head.

I did get to those dishes and that dirty sink and wondered why on earth I drag my feet when it comes to seeking God. He gives freely to even the half-hearted. He fills up places we didn't even know were empty. I didn't mind the long lists of duties anymore, I stood at the sink like any other day. But on the inside I was bowing down and singing hallelujah till I was hoarse.

Where Have We Been?

2011-07-08T22:56:00.000-04:00

Calvin here. Let me tell you, our week started off with a bang. Christina came all the way from Cambodia and stayed at our house for a whole week. We soaked her up. And she soaked me up.

Don't get the wrong idea. It's not been all glory. I've been out to therapy and had to spin some new wheels around the block. Here I am, totally enthused.

'
There I am, in fine form, strapped down and feeling ready to take off in Apollo 13.

Then there's the foot braces. Mom, it's time to take them off.

I've got my mom pretty well trained. She gets it right most of the time.

Opa's birthday trip was great. We even made it on Canada day. Here we are all ready to go.

We said our good-byes to Christina.

And I settled in to enjoy my custom-made car mobile.

Lately my dad's been fixing up the house. I hang out with him in the workshop in the new wheels.

I keep him company and giggle every time he lets me feel the drill moving.

It's been a good week.

a day in the life (15)

2011-07-01T00:02:00.001-04:00

These summer months are busy and my posts have been fewer. I think I break every rule a "good blogger" abides by. I hope you are enjoying these summer days as much as we are. ~Kara

Calvin's "good stretch" left Darryl and I feeling nearly euphoric. The past week was littered with wonderfulness: toes squirming in the warm Lake Michigan sand, early morning squeals and smiles, giggles in the hammock swing, and joy waiting for us everywhere.

The euphoria followed us the surgeon's office. Dr. Roberston. We sat in the waiting room adoring our young man's smiles and shared a knowing look. We'd waited so long to see our boy like this. Darryl picked up a magazine and flipped through. My chin rested on his shoulder, my arm in his, and stared at the pages (not really seeing anything but happiness).

We were burning with hope. With contentment. Our son was happy. Not in pain. Unable to move but full of life and full of delight. Oh little boy, you've stolen our hearts so. For once we felt we could REJOICE in his life.

Dr. Robertson ushered us into his office. We were ready to schedule a surgery for Calvin. One that we hoped would rid him from choking and filling up his lungs. Dreams were filling our minds. Dreams of life with Calvin. Three weeks of him feeling good gave us a glimpse of just how joyful life is with him. We were dreaming of Darryl carrying him around piggy-back on the beach. Letting him splash in the waves. Dreaming of him rolling over and us screaming with excitement.

How could he deflate those dreams? It wasn't his fault but I wanted it to be. I wanted surgery to be the solution for Calvin living with a good quality of life. "I'm voting no for the surgery. The risks are many and the benefits are not sure. It might complicate his case more and make him even more uncomfortable," the surgeon said.

That left us with plan B, stand-by Calvin and assist and love him as much as we can while his lungs struggle with constant aspirations. "Can't you give us another answer?" I asked, knowing I was asking the impossible. "I wish there was something I could do," he said.

We left the office. We left the euphoria there too. I looked down at Calvin's grin and wide eyes and found that joy had remained. All is not lost. No, all is not lost.

There is no way to quantify or qualify the benefits and sorrows of life. But this I know, we have gained even in the face of loss.

Christ has become our surety.

Life has become sweeter.

Heaven has become our longing.

Death has been trumped by eternal hope.

Love has been felt deeper and stronger.

We are full of hope. Hope in Christ and his comfort, his plan, his ability to take things that break our heart and turn them into wells which he pours his redeeming work into.

Clinging to Christ is not a last resort. It is the only way to start living.

For the preaching of the cross is to them that perish foolishness, but unto us which are saved it is the power of God. 1 Corinthians 1: 18

Lotsahelpinghands

2011-06-27T12:31:00.000-04:00

June was filled lotsahelpinghands in our home. My dear sister, Kristin, undertook the big task of coordinating helpers and our needs and matching them up together, no small feat. It has been a tremendous help to have everything coordinated online (because you all know how good I am with my phone...). If you're interested in checking out the online calendar you can email my sis (kristinmeschke@yahoo.com) and she'll send you a password to go on and check out the calendar. You can sign up for meals, helping out with the kids, or playing with Calvin. Here's a note from our family to all those who've given of their time or resources.

Dear Friends,

From stroller rides, delicious meals, laundry pick-up and more you have made June a delightful month for our family.

Thank you for the wonderful meals prepared for our family. It is such a tremendous relief to pull out dinner and warm it up after a stressful day. It has become a common question from the kids, "Who gave us this food, mom?" It is special to hear the kids parroting back what they see in action, "The people in our church are sooo nice." (Sophie). How special to have our kids experience the body of Christ in this way.

Speaking of kids, thanks for those of you who've whisked them off to the library (or some other adventure) or sat and read books to them, played with them, or got them dressed on those crazy days. It has also been wonderful to go out for a run or have a chance to escape to Bible Study on Tuesday mornings while someone stays with the kids. It's given me a much needed recharging!

We are also humbled by those of you who've helped our family tremendously with expenses. It has been a powerful form of God's provision for us. Thank you, thank you. It has freed our mind and time to care for the needs at hand without being overwhelmed with how to pay the bills.

The month of July holds a bit of uncertainty for us. This Thursday (30th) we are meeting with the surgeon to discuss and schedule the 2nd Nissen surgery for Calvin. He has had such a great week that we feel we need to do it as soon as possible while he is doing well. We are hopeful this surgery will be more effective as we try to control the retching with medication. If the surgery is successful Calvin will not be at risk for continuously choking and aspirating. That would enhance his quality of life so much (and ours too!).

Much love from our family to yours,

Darryl and Kara (Sophie, Noah, Evelyn, and Calvin too!)

It's Raining Outside

2011-06-23T22:58:00.000-04:00

Rainy days are perfect for sailing the high seas.

The takeover begins...

and the pirates are off in search of buried treasure.

They stand fast through the rough gales

and convince the first mate to toughen up.

Land ho!

Happy pirates with their booty.

The first mate is doing first-rate these days. It's wonderful.

Summer

2011-06-18T23:23:00.000-04:00

Summer is

growing gardens

and eating from them too.

Summer is

dandelion bouquets

and lazy evening swings.

Summer is

purple picnic tables

and walks with dolly.

Summer is

eating outside

and projects on rainy days.

Summer is

family and friends together.

We love summer.

Back on Track?

2011-06-16T23:33:00.000-04:00

An hour of bliss like this makes me forget the hard weeks gone by. Thanks to my dear family (mom and sisters!) for checking in several times a day and to our church family who brings streams of meals, love, support, and relief and understanding. You are a lifeline for us, thank you.

Sometimes we get a little peek at the soul of this boy who lives inside this dear little body. It is so delightful and takes our breath away. These pictures are a loud reminder to me that this is my son, he has a personality, he has a soul, he has a desire for life just like you and me.

Too easily I give him up. I live the day waiting for his death instead of looking for his life. But there is life in there. Trapped behind eyes that don't see and arms that can't move and legs that won't stand. He is there. And I long to know him more. I want to jump over this abyss of brain damage that separates him from me. It comforts me to know that no abyss is too great for God.

Calvin is working on bearing weight in his new braces.