Remember my "beyond beyond" story, about how God went so far beyond my expectations during our recent garage sale? Well, I prayed another one of those beyond beyond prayers over my colonoscopy, especially regarding the prep.
"God, I don't know how you could possibly give me an answer above and beyond what I could ask or imagine, when it comes to a colonoscopy. But I trust you to surprise me," I prayed. And of course, He did, though not really in any way I expected.
Yesterday I shared all the details of my last colonoscopy prep seven years ago, so you might recall that the prep solution took violent effect in under 15 minutes that time. I was expecting the same thing last night, but it couldn't have been more different.
I started by taking a Zofran tablet, which the doctor had prescribed to prevent nausea. I chugged the first glass around 4:00 and hovered near the bathroom door. But nothing happened. I drank the second glass around 4:30 with little difficulty, but still nothing happened. And nothing happened after the third, fourth, fifth, or sixth glass either. (Nevertheless, I spent most of that time on the toilet for fear I might not make it when all that laxative finally did kick in.) The Zofran was working, and I wasn't terribly nauseated, but my stomach was so full that I found it harder and harder to drink each successive glass.
Just before I started each glass, I said a silent prayer: "I know I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength." And then I would take four swallows, catch my breath, take four more swallows, and so on. Each glass took about sixteen swallows, in groups of four. After the last swallow I would shudder theatrically, rinse my mouth thoroughly, and then focus on reading a book until my next dreaded dose. (I read the majority of The Poisonwood Bible, which I didn't like all that much, but maybe it was just my circumstances.)
By the time 2.5 hours had passed without any action, I started to get concerned. I phoned Bill, who'd taken Allyson shopping, and walked him through selecting an enema. I think he was embarrassed just being seen in the laxative aisle, poor guy.
But by the time they got home 15 minutes later, everything started moving... and moving.
By the time I'd finished 11 glasses (88 ounces) of the devil's brew, I figured surely this was enough. I'd read all the literature this time, and the directions said you could stop when the "return" was clear. My return looked pretty clear to me, and it was by now 11:00 and I was tired.
But then I got to worrying. What exactly did clear mean? What if it wasn't clear enough? I got on the Internet and started searching, and the more I read the more I got a sinking feeling. The Big Bad Nurse's words echoed in my ears: "If there's any trace of fecal matter... we might have to postpone... and you'll do the prep again (again... again...)."
It almost made me cry, but I went downstairs and pulled the GoLytely jug, now 2/3 empty, from the fridge. "I don't want to take any more, God," I whined. "But I have to. Please help me!" I stood over the kitchen sink and took a deep breath while mentally chanting, "I can do all things through Christ." And then I tipped it up and gulped it down, 16 swallows in a row.
I waited 15 minutes and did it again. And then three more times. The last glass was only 6 ounces, which gave me a little lift. When I threw back that last glass, at 2:00 on the nose, I punched my fist triumphantly in the air. I couldn't believe how proud I was of myself, almost as proud as I'd been when I got up on a wakeboard the first time. I really hadn't thought myself capable of drinking a whole gallon of that salty, slimy solution, but now it was behind me (so to speak).
At that point my return still wasn't quite clear, and I was beginning to wonder if I was going to be the first person in history to drink all that evil potion yet NOT have a clear colon. But after two more hours of diarrhea, it was pristine. So at 4:00 in the morning, I collapsed into bed and slept the sleep of the righteous until Allyson woke me around 9:00.
At the endoscopy center this afternoon, I couldn't wait for the question I knew was coming. "Yes," I replied emphatically. "I drank it all. Every last drop."
The colonoscopy was an odd experience, almost otherworldly. The nurse anesthetist didn't count backward from 10 this time. Instead she said, "Here's something to make you relax." Serenity settled over me almost instantly. "And here's something to make you sleepy," she said next. A burning sensation spread up my IV arm, and I said, with an impossibly thick tongue, "That burns!"
"Yes," she agreed.
Just then, I remembered the story my friend Pamela told me about her recent appendectomy: she had asked the doctor and anesthesiologist to pray with her before the surgery. They were a bit surprised, but game. I vaguely remember murmuring something about a prayer, and maybe I even prayed, though they probably couldn't understand my slurred words. I think it was something about guiding the doctor's hand and giving him wisdom, and about God being near me. And please bless the doctor and the nurse and their families. It gave me comfort as I sank into a delicious drowsiness.
I was surprised then to feel the scope going in; I wondered when they were going to put me under. I felt LOTS of splooshy feelings, and I could hear the doctor and nurse talking but couldn't comprehend what they were saying. I kept squinting in the bright light and staring at a big TV screen with what appeared to be my colon, a smooth and yellowish tunnel.
I can't be sure when I asked this, if it was during the procedure or after, but I know I spoke because I remember the answer. I said, "Why am I awake?"
The nurse replied that my blood pressure was a little low, so they couldn't give me as much medication as they had the last time.
"My blood pressure is always low," I said.
"It's okay if you're a little awake," she explained. "We just want to make sure you're comfortable. Are you hurting?"
"No," I said.
The next time I opened my eyes, Bill was on my left side, smiling. "Why was I awake?" I asked. "Was it because my blood pressure was low?"
"Everything is fine," he said.
A nurse said, "Everything was normal, Sarah. No polyps. You did very well."
I dozed then for a few minutes. When I opened my eyes, Bill was still on my left side, smiling. "Why was I awake?" I asked. "Wait a minute, did I already ask you that?"
He laughed. "Yes, about five times now."
"Oh," I said.
He helped me get dressed then, for I was helpless as a baby. While he went and pulled the car around, a nurse put an arm around me and guided me to the door on my wobbly legs. "Was I talking during the procedure?" I asked.
"I don't know, but maybe you were."
"Is that normal?"
"Everyone reacts differently," she said.
"I usually talk a lot," I admitted.
She smiled. "I bet you do."
In the car, I felt much more alert. "Do you know I was awake during the procedure?" I asked.
"You might have mentioned it," Bill replied, and I laughed.
"I guess I did."
All the way home I fantasized about eating some chocolate chip blueberry pancakes from out of the freezer, but when we got there the couch seemed more attractive. In the blink of an eye, two hours had passed.
I got up then and toasted my pancakes. They were the best I've ever tasted!
I'm so glad the experience is behind me, but I have to admit that, other than staying up until 4:00, it really wasn't all that bad. I know now I am capable of just about anything, with God's help. I'd say He went beyond the beyond again.
Thank you to everyone for your prayers and words of encouragement. I could feel the prayers around me.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
The Last Obstacle
In about 45 minutes, I'll be starting the prep for my second colonoscopy, which of course reminds me of the nightmare that was my first colonoscopy prep--but also reminds me of my love story with Bill. How? I'll get to that. But first, a disclaimer: yes, this is going to be yet another poop story. Feel free to bail out if you like.
After less than a year of marriage, Bill and I started talking about having a baby. I might have preferred to wait a bit longer, but I was almost 33 when we got married, and Bill had said if he was going to become a father he wanted it to happen before he was 35. That gave us about three years to work with, but with my history of unexplained infertility with my first child, we thought it best to get started right away. My gynecologist, however, had other ideas. My thyroid was enlarged, and she wanted me to see the endocrinologist first to get the green light for a pregnancy. And due to my brother's history of colon cancer at age 42, she also wanted me to get the colonoscopy that his oncologist had suggested for each of our siblings.
It took three months to get my appointment with the endocrinologist, but I made it past that hurdle with no problem. He adjusted my hypothyroid medicine and said I'd be fine.
But I had to wait much longer for the colonoscopy. We were changing our health insurance to a different plan and had to wait for the enrollment period, and then I had to get a referral, and so on. And that's why, about a year after we wanted to start our family planning, I was actually a little bit excited about my colonoscopy. (Oh, the ignorance!)
The timing was absolutely horrible: Bill's sister Lisa had come down from Canada for a few days with her three-month old daughter Katie, whom we'd never met. As luck would have it, the second day of her visit was the dreaded prep day. For that entire day, my diet was restricted to clear liquids and Jell-O, but I didn't want to miss out on the sightseeing we'd planned for Lisa. So I sipped my water with lemon and felt sorry for myself while Bill and Lisa enjoyed the best Mexican food around. And then I traipsed along behind them, feeling faint, while they toured the Fort Worth Stockyards.
But the real misery began around 5:00, when I drank the first 8 ounces of the prescribed gallon of GoLytely solution. My brother Rick had warned me that I wouldn't go lightly, and also that it would take effect very quickly. "Just don't stray far from the bathroom," he advised, telling me about a mishap he'd had while trying to do laundry during his first bowel prep. Not that I planned to do any laundry, but I figured if I did I'd be fine since our laundry room is literally ten feet from the toilet. Man, was I naive.
I chugged the first glass of the cherry-flavored, salty, slimy liquid with no problem. This isn't that bad, I thought triumphantly, and then I sat on the couch to wait 15 minutes for my next dose. The leaflet that came with the solution said it would take 30-60 minutes to work, so you can imagine my surprise when, not 10 minutes after that first dose, I felt a violent urge. I sprinted the 15 feet to the bathroom and BARELY managed to get my pants down in time.
I emptied what surely must have been the entire contents of my colon and waited about two minutes before pulling up my pants. I hadn't even finished washing my hands when it hit me again. And again, I just BARELY made it the 1.5 feet to the toilet.
I'll spare you the details, but let's just say I soon figured out there was no point getting off the toilet at all. This invoked quite a dilemma since it was past time for my second dose, and I really hated to drink it on the toilet.
"BILL!" I hollered. "Bring me another glass please."
That second glass took about 15 minutes to drink. And the third glass took a full hour, sipped through a straw. And the fourth glass, well, I started gagging the moment the cup touched my lips. I couldn't swallow another drop. But based on the constant water that had been passing through for about four hours now, I figured maybe it didn't matter that I'd only finished a third of the solution. It had obviously done its work, and it kept right on working up until nearly midnight.
Bill and Lisa had taken baby Katie off somewhere; I don't remember where. And Ethan was with his dad that weekend, so I was all alone in the house, with only my self pity to keep me company. I was finally off the toilet, but I was so sore I couldn't even sit down properly. So I lay on my side in the recliner and cried.
When they got home, they both laughed over my woes, which infuriated me, especially since I couldn't help laughing myself. Around midnight, I fell into bed utterly exhausted.
When Bill drove me to the endoscopy center the next morning, I was too exhausted to care about my sore bottom or the piteous growls of my gapingly empty stomach. I was just so relieved that the ordeal was coming to an end at last. Or so I thought.
Wheeling my gurney into the procedure room, the nurse asked cheerfully, "So, did you finish your GoLytlely?"
I laughed ruefully. "Wow, that was rough stuff! I only got about a third of it down, but-"
The gurney screeched to a halt. "You didn't finish your prep??" she repeated incredulously.
"No," I answered in a tiny voice. "But it really worked. I had diarrhea for SIX HOURS STRAIGHT. I couldn't even leave the bathroom."
Her mouth set into a firm line as she resumed the short trip. "That doesn't matter," she hissed after a silence so loud I could hear my own heart pounding. "Your colon has to be completely clear."
"It was," I protested. "The diarrhea looked like water."
She went on as if she hadn't heard. "Because if there's any fecal matter in there.... You realize that the procedure might have to be postponed? And you'll have to do the prep again?"
At those words, I burst into tears. I don't mean those silent tears that you hope no one will notice. I mean the kind of sobs that shake your whole body.
And that's what I was doing when she parked me in front of the doctor. At his raised eyebrows, she muttered, "She didn't finish the bowel prep."
I was sobbing so hard I didn't even hear his response. But I heard her all too plainly when she said, "Now calm down or we won't be able to start the IV."
I felt like a little girl again, being scolded by my beloved daddy. I sobbed harder.
And then I felt a gentle hand on my temple, brushing the hair from my eyes. It was the nurse anesthetist, whom I hadn't even noticed standing behind me. "It's okay," he whispered, and I thought maybe he was afraid of the Big Bad Nurse too.
"Sh-she said I'd have to do the p-prep ag-gain," I wailed.
He ran his fingers through my hair, patting my head the way I would pat Ethan's head after a nightmare. "We don't know that," he said softly. "And there's nothing you can do about it now. Just relax. Everything will be okay," he promised. "Just breathe deeply. I'm going to give you a sedative now, and you'll be asleep by the time I've counted backward from 10. When you wake up it will all be over."
My sobs faded into hiccups, and grateful tears splashed into my ears. When the kind man started counting, he only made it to 7 before everything went blissfully black. From that point, I vaguely remember odd splooshy sensations and the faraway sound of reassuring male voices. I think they kept saying, "It's okay. We can see what we need to see." So I surmise that I might have been crying throughout the procedure.
I was definitely crying when I came out of it. "It's okay," the nurse reassured me as I opened my eyes. Thankfully, it was a different nurse, and she apparently knew nothing of my meltdown, or if she did she was decent enough not to mention it. She turned to Bill, "You never know how people will react to the medication. Some people laugh, some cry... Your wife, she's obviously one of the cry-ers."
She squeezed my hand. "But you don't need to cry any more, sweetie. The procedure went just fine, and everything was normal." To her chagrin, fresh tears rained down my cheeks then, but they were tears of joy. I hadn't realized until that moment how worried I'd been during all those months of waiting. I'd been afraid that I would go through what Rick had gone through, and that I wouldn't be able to have another baby.
In a moment, I was released from all that worry, and the last obstacle had been removed. We could start trying for a baby!
There's just one more thing I'd like you to know. When I read the doctor's report that evening, this is what I saw: "Quality of prep: Excellent." Yes, the quality of my prep was "Excellent" with a capital E! Take that, Big Bad Nurse.
Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to start my bowel prep.
After less than a year of marriage, Bill and I started talking about having a baby. I might have preferred to wait a bit longer, but I was almost 33 when we got married, and Bill had said if he was going to become a father he wanted it to happen before he was 35. That gave us about three years to work with, but with my history of unexplained infertility with my first child, we thought it best to get started right away. My gynecologist, however, had other ideas. My thyroid was enlarged, and she wanted me to see the endocrinologist first to get the green light for a pregnancy. And due to my brother's history of colon cancer at age 42, she also wanted me to get the colonoscopy that his oncologist had suggested for each of our siblings.
It took three months to get my appointment with the endocrinologist, but I made it past that hurdle with no problem. He adjusted my hypothyroid medicine and said I'd be fine.
But I had to wait much longer for the colonoscopy. We were changing our health insurance to a different plan and had to wait for the enrollment period, and then I had to get a referral, and so on. And that's why, about a year after we wanted to start our family planning, I was actually a little bit excited about my colonoscopy. (Oh, the ignorance!)
The timing was absolutely horrible: Bill's sister Lisa had come down from Canada for a few days with her three-month old daughter Katie, whom we'd never met. As luck would have it, the second day of her visit was the dreaded prep day. For that entire day, my diet was restricted to clear liquids and Jell-O, but I didn't want to miss out on the sightseeing we'd planned for Lisa. So I sipped my water with lemon and felt sorry for myself while Bill and Lisa enjoyed the best Mexican food around. And then I traipsed along behind them, feeling faint, while they toured the Fort Worth Stockyards.
 |
| Lisa and Katie |
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| Baby in a Basket! |
But the real misery began around 5:00, when I drank the first 8 ounces of the prescribed gallon of GoLytely solution. My brother Rick had warned me that I wouldn't go lightly, and also that it would take effect very quickly. "Just don't stray far from the bathroom," he advised, telling me about a mishap he'd had while trying to do laundry during his first bowel prep. Not that I planned to do any laundry, but I figured if I did I'd be fine since our laundry room is literally ten feet from the toilet. Man, was I naive.
I chugged the first glass of the cherry-flavored, salty, slimy liquid with no problem. This isn't that bad, I thought triumphantly, and then I sat on the couch to wait 15 minutes for my next dose. The leaflet that came with the solution said it would take 30-60 minutes to work, so you can imagine my surprise when, not 10 minutes after that first dose, I felt a violent urge. I sprinted the 15 feet to the bathroom and BARELY managed to get my pants down in time.
 |
| Bill and Katie on the Couch Where My Adventure Began |
I emptied what surely must have been the entire contents of my colon and waited about two minutes before pulling up my pants. I hadn't even finished washing my hands when it hit me again. And again, I just BARELY made it the 1.5 feet to the toilet.
I'll spare you the details, but let's just say I soon figured out there was no point getting off the toilet at all. This invoked quite a dilemma since it was past time for my second dose, and I really hated to drink it on the toilet.
"BILL!" I hollered. "Bring me another glass please."
That second glass took about 15 minutes to drink. And the third glass took a full hour, sipped through a straw. And the fourth glass, well, I started gagging the moment the cup touched my lips. I couldn't swallow another drop. But based on the constant water that had been passing through for about four hours now, I figured maybe it didn't matter that I'd only finished a third of the solution. It had obviously done its work, and it kept right on working up until nearly midnight.
Bill and Lisa had taken baby Katie off somewhere; I don't remember where. And Ethan was with his dad that weekend, so I was all alone in the house, with only my self pity to keep me company. I was finally off the toilet, but I was so sore I couldn't even sit down properly. So I lay on my side in the recliner and cried.
When they got home, they both laughed over my woes, which infuriated me, especially since I couldn't help laughing myself. Around midnight, I fell into bed utterly exhausted.
When Bill drove me to the endoscopy center the next morning, I was too exhausted to care about my sore bottom or the piteous growls of my gapingly empty stomach. I was just so relieved that the ordeal was coming to an end at last. Or so I thought.
Wheeling my gurney into the procedure room, the nurse asked cheerfully, "So, did you finish your GoLytlely?"
I laughed ruefully. "Wow, that was rough stuff! I only got about a third of it down, but-"
The gurney screeched to a halt. "You didn't finish your prep??" she repeated incredulously.
"No," I answered in a tiny voice. "But it really worked. I had diarrhea for SIX HOURS STRAIGHT. I couldn't even leave the bathroom."
Her mouth set into a firm line as she resumed the short trip. "That doesn't matter," she hissed after a silence so loud I could hear my own heart pounding. "Your colon has to be completely clear."
"It was," I protested. "The diarrhea looked like water."
She went on as if she hadn't heard. "Because if there's any fecal matter in there.... You realize that the procedure might have to be postponed? And you'll have to do the prep again?"
At those words, I burst into tears. I don't mean those silent tears that you hope no one will notice. I mean the kind of sobs that shake your whole body.
And that's what I was doing when she parked me in front of the doctor. At his raised eyebrows, she muttered, "She didn't finish the bowel prep."
I was sobbing so hard I didn't even hear his response. But I heard her all too plainly when she said, "Now calm down or we won't be able to start the IV."
I felt like a little girl again, being scolded by my beloved daddy. I sobbed harder.
And then I felt a gentle hand on my temple, brushing the hair from my eyes. It was the nurse anesthetist, whom I hadn't even noticed standing behind me. "It's okay," he whispered, and I thought maybe he was afraid of the Big Bad Nurse too.
"Sh-she said I'd have to do the p-prep ag-gain," I wailed.
He ran his fingers through my hair, patting my head the way I would pat Ethan's head after a nightmare. "We don't know that," he said softly. "And there's nothing you can do about it now. Just relax. Everything will be okay," he promised. "Just breathe deeply. I'm going to give you a sedative now, and you'll be asleep by the time I've counted backward from 10. When you wake up it will all be over."
My sobs faded into hiccups, and grateful tears splashed into my ears. When the kind man started counting, he only made it to 7 before everything went blissfully black. From that point, I vaguely remember odd splooshy sensations and the faraway sound of reassuring male voices. I think they kept saying, "It's okay. We can see what we need to see." So I surmise that I might have been crying throughout the procedure.
I was definitely crying when I came out of it. "It's okay," the nurse reassured me as I opened my eyes. Thankfully, it was a different nurse, and she apparently knew nothing of my meltdown, or if she did she was decent enough not to mention it. She turned to Bill, "You never know how people will react to the medication. Some people laugh, some cry... Your wife, she's obviously one of the cry-ers."
She squeezed my hand. "But you don't need to cry any more, sweetie. The procedure went just fine, and everything was normal." To her chagrin, fresh tears rained down my cheeks then, but they were tears of joy. I hadn't realized until that moment how worried I'd been during all those months of waiting. I'd been afraid that I would go through what Rick had gone through, and that I wouldn't be able to have another baby.
In a moment, I was released from all that worry, and the last obstacle had been removed. We could start trying for a baby!
There's just one more thing I'd like you to know. When I read the doctor's report that evening, this is what I saw: "Quality of prep: Excellent." Yes, the quality of my prep was "Excellent" with a capital E! Take that, Big Bad Nurse.
Now if you'll excuse me, it's time to start my bowel prep.
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| Looking a Little Worse for the Wear, Day After the Procedure (Aren't the Glasses Awful??) |
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Tales From the Road
Week before last, we set off on a road trip to visit my family in Indiana. It was Bill's first time to make the 18-hour drive, and he was not too keen about the idea. But the drive was surprisingly enjoyable.
My sisters Amy and Melody were riding along with the four of us, so we rented a minivan. Here's what made it so much better than most of the Indiana drives I remember:
Allyson Discovers Elvis
As we drove through the Memphis area, where we spent our first night on the road, there were pictures of Elvis everywhere, and brochures about Graceland and other related attractions. That's all it took for Allyson to develop her first crush. She treasured those little pamphlets, which she guarded fiercely.
"Read this book about Elvis, Aunt Amy," she said. But when Amy took a little too long, she demanded it back.
"You've got another copy," I reminded her.
"No, that's Allum's" she corrected me. Amy handed over the brochure.
And then Bill discovered a satellite station that played all Elvis, all the time--which meant we could listen to Elvis for our entire vacation. Allyson was probably the only one thrilled about that.
I wish we'd had time to stop at Graceland; I think we all would have enjoyed it. As it was, we drove slowly past it in the dark. We could just make out the house, but we had a good view of one of Elvis's jets, the Lisa Marie.
Surviving Jane
In a flash of inspiration at the start of the trip, Bill assigned Ethan the front passenger seat, far enough away from Allyson to avoid their typical squabbles. Ethan's main job was to take pictures of all the welcome signs we passed as we moved from state to state. Unfortunately, he missed most of them due to our camera's abysmal shutter speed.
Ethan also served as Bill's navigator, at least in theory. He pored over the 2005 atlas, tracing the route dictated by the real boss: our navigator, whom we affectionately call "Jane."
Jane sometimes led us astray, though, like the time she told Bill to exit the highway in a scary area on the outskirts of Memphis. "I don't know, Jane," he said as we drove down dark residential streets with beat-up cars and overgrown lawns.
"In 800 yards... turn left," she said cheerfully.
Bill squinted through the darkness. "I don't see a road there, Jane. I'm turning right."
Jane recalculated while we rounded a curve in the unlighted two-lane road and approached a rickety railroad trestle. "In 100 yards... turn left," she advised.
Bill started to pass under the trestle, but we all protested. "This doesn't look right," Ethan said.
"It's a dead end," Bill said. "I'll have to turn around."
All of us shivered with fear as he meticulously executed a three-point turn, backing the minivan up within inches of the 10-foot barbed wire fence that flanked the road.
"I hope there's nothing waiting behind that fence..." Amy began.
I glanced pointedly at Allyson. "Shh!!"
"Why is Jane trying to kill us?" Ethan asked.
Bill said it was probably because he'd been disrespectful to her earlier, questioning her routes. In any case, we made it to the hotel at last, though Jane conveniently failed to mention that Bill needed to turn onto the hotel's side street and we had to make a 3-mile circle practically back to Graceland.
There at Last
We had a wonderful four days in Indiana, though it passed too quickly as always. We spent a lot of time visiting (and eating) with all my cousins, aunts, uncles, and of course my grandma. We stayed with my Aunt Sue and Uncle Jeff. Their Golden Doodle Miley (a cross between a Golden Retriever and a poodle) kept us entertained. She's a giant puppy, very mischievous, with an affinity for socks and underwear. She once got a-hold of one of Ethan's dirty socks and played a ten-minute game of keep-away with him. When Sue got the sock away from her and tried to hand it to Ethan, she snatched it back and pranced away proudly. He did eventually get it back, but only after it was covered in slobber.
On our first full day, we went to Potato Creek State Park with Aunt Sue and Uncle Jeff. We rented bikes so old that Jeff said they were probably the same ones they used when they opened the rental shop 30 years ago. The brakes barely worked, and they only had one gear, which was unfortunate due to all the hills. Bill had it the worst because he had to pull Allyson in a little trailer. Most of us had to stand up on the hills, but sometimes Bill had to get off and push the bike.
We had hoped to escape the interminable heat, but they were having a heat wave in Indiana too, and with the humidity it was almost unbearable. But most of the time the trail led through the heavily shaded woods, and there was a refreshing breeze. It was only on the stretches through the sun that we suffered.
After our ride, we had a picnic and then cooled off with a quick dip in the ice-cold lake--so much different than our bathwater lakes down here in Texas.
Another highlight was a trip on the South Shore Train to Chicago, where we spent about five hours in the Museum of Science and Industry. We could have spent days. It's an amazing museum. I think my favorite exhibit was the German submarine that had been captured and towed in utter secrecy to the United States.
Allyson's favorite was the fairy castle, a giant doll house full of lavish miniatures with a fairy tale theme. For example, the library held real one-inch books with teeny words on tiny pages. I wish we had thought to take pictures.
And while I'm mentioning highlights, I can't forget to mention Aunt Carol's famous homemade ice cream with her trademark fudge sauce. I ate two bowls of that!
Stop in St. Louis
On the way home from Indiana, we stopped at the giant arch in St. Louis. We rode up in tiny pods that were a cross between an elevator and a Ferris wheel car.
At the top was a narrow room, arch-shaped of course, with tiny windows that you had to lean into to see the ground. I was surprised to see people swimming in pools on top of the hotels across the way.
Afterward, we met my cousin Matt's family at a nearby restaurant, The Spaghetti Factory.
We had to wait an hour and a half, so we were beyond starving, but it was a great chance to catch up. And the dinner was delicious and reasonably priced. The kids even got balloon animals.
At the end of the trip, Amy said, "Even though we didn't go somewhere exotic, this was one of my favorite vacations ever." I have to agree.
My sisters Amy and Melody were riding along with the four of us, so we rented a minivan. Here's what made it so much better than most of the Indiana drives I remember:
- Bill did all the driving, so I didn't have to tank up on Diet Mountain Dew to keep my eyes open. I could nap whenever I wanted and catch up on my reading.
- We didn't leave at 4:00 in the morning. In fact, we didn't leave our house on the 18th until after 10:30 A.M. (Dad would have been beside himself.) It was so much easier to enjoy all our family togetherness on a good night's sleep.
- We didn't try to "make time," and we wouldn't have dreamed of driving through the night. We made lots of stops, whenever anyone had to pee.
- We stopped for the night at interesting tourist attractions; we took different routes on the way there and back.
- We played games to pass the time. Amy brought some dice and the lid to a big plastic tub, and we played Yahtzee and Farkle. (The kids loved saying, "Mama farkled!" but that didn't happen too often since I always play it safe.)
- We brought yummy picnics (featuring things like Aunt Sue's delectable chicken salad) which we ate at several McDonalds along the way. It felt pretty brazen to walk in there with our cooler bags and jumbo bags of chips, but no one seemed to notice. And we did buy drinks and salads, and the occasional ice cream. So we spent almost nothing, and we ate healthy food that didn't give us tummy aches.
Allyson Discovers Elvis
As we drove through the Memphis area, where we spent our first night on the road, there were pictures of Elvis everywhere, and brochures about Graceland and other related attractions. That's all it took for Allyson to develop her first crush. She treasured those little pamphlets, which she guarded fiercely.
"Read this book about Elvis, Aunt Amy," she said. But when Amy took a little too long, she demanded it back.
"You've got another copy," I reminded her.
"No, that's Allum's" she corrected me. Amy handed over the brochure.
And then Bill discovered a satellite station that played all Elvis, all the time--which meant we could listen to Elvis for our entire vacation. Allyson was probably the only one thrilled about that.
I wish we'd had time to stop at Graceland; I think we all would have enjoyed it. As it was, we drove slowly past it in the dark. We could just make out the house, but we had a good view of one of Elvis's jets, the Lisa Marie.
Surviving Jane
In a flash of inspiration at the start of the trip, Bill assigned Ethan the front passenger seat, far enough away from Allyson to avoid their typical squabbles. Ethan's main job was to take pictures of all the welcome signs we passed as we moved from state to state. Unfortunately, he missed most of them due to our camera's abysmal shutter speed.
Ethan also served as Bill's navigator, at least in theory. He pored over the 2005 atlas, tracing the route dictated by the real boss: our navigator, whom we affectionately call "Jane."
Jane sometimes led us astray, though, like the time she told Bill to exit the highway in a scary area on the outskirts of Memphis. "I don't know, Jane," he said as we drove down dark residential streets with beat-up cars and overgrown lawns.
"In 800 yards... turn left," she said cheerfully.
Bill squinted through the darkness. "I don't see a road there, Jane. I'm turning right."
Jane recalculated while we rounded a curve in the unlighted two-lane road and approached a rickety railroad trestle. "In 100 yards... turn left," she advised.
Bill started to pass under the trestle, but we all protested. "This doesn't look right," Ethan said.
"It's a dead end," Bill said. "I'll have to turn around."
All of us shivered with fear as he meticulously executed a three-point turn, backing the minivan up within inches of the 10-foot barbed wire fence that flanked the road.
"I hope there's nothing waiting behind that fence..." Amy began.
I glanced pointedly at Allyson. "Shh!!"
"Why is Jane trying to kill us?" Ethan asked.
Bill said it was probably because he'd been disrespectful to her earlier, questioning her routes. In any case, we made it to the hotel at last, though Jane conveniently failed to mention that Bill needed to turn onto the hotel's side street and we had to make a 3-mile circle practically back to Graceland.
There at Last
We had a wonderful four days in Indiana, though it passed too quickly as always. We spent a lot of time visiting (and eating) with all my cousins, aunts, uncles, and of course my grandma. We stayed with my Aunt Sue and Uncle Jeff. Their Golden Doodle Miley (a cross between a Golden Retriever and a poodle) kept us entertained. She's a giant puppy, very mischievous, with an affinity for socks and underwear. She once got a-hold of one of Ethan's dirty socks and played a ten-minute game of keep-away with him. When Sue got the sock away from her and tried to hand it to Ethan, she snatched it back and pranced away proudly. He did eventually get it back, but only after it was covered in slobber.
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| My Daily Walking Buddies: Melody, Me, Sue, Amy, Miley (And Allyson) |
On our first full day, we went to Potato Creek State Park with Aunt Sue and Uncle Jeff. We rented bikes so old that Jeff said they were probably the same ones they used when they opened the rental shop 30 years ago. The brakes barely worked, and they only had one gear, which was unfortunate due to all the hills. Bill had it the worst because he had to pull Allyson in a little trailer. Most of us had to stand up on the hills, but sometimes Bill had to get off and push the bike.
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| Foreground: Ethan; Background: Jeff, Bill, Allyson |
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| Bill, Amy, Allyson, Melody |
We had hoped to escape the interminable heat, but they were having a heat wave in Indiana too, and with the humidity it was almost unbearable. But most of the time the trail led through the heavily shaded woods, and there was a refreshing breeze. It was only on the stretches through the sun that we suffered.
After our ride, we had a picnic and then cooled off with a quick dip in the ice-cold lake--so much different than our bathwater lakes down here in Texas.
Another highlight was a trip on the South Shore Train to Chicago, where we spent about five hours in the Museum of Science and Industry. We could have spent days. It's an amazing museum. I think my favorite exhibit was the German submarine that had been captured and towed in utter secrecy to the United States.
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| Ethan and Allyson at U-508 Exhibit |
Allyson's favorite was the fairy castle, a giant doll house full of lavish miniatures with a fairy tale theme. For example, the library held real one-inch books with teeny words on tiny pages. I wish we had thought to take pictures.
 | |
| On the Way Back on South Shore Train |
And while I'm mentioning highlights, I can't forget to mention Aunt Carol's famous homemade ice cream with her trademark fudge sauce. I ate two bowls of that!
Stop in St. Louis
On the way home from Indiana, we stopped at the giant arch in St. Louis. We rode up in tiny pods that were a cross between an elevator and a Ferris wheel car.
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| Allyson Crying Because She Wanted her Own Seat |
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| All Smiles After I Shared Ethan's Seat |
At the top was a narrow room, arch-shaped of course, with tiny windows that you had to lean into to see the ground. I was surprised to see people swimming in pools on top of the hotels across the way.
Afterward, we met my cousin Matt's family at a nearby restaurant, The Spaghetti Factory.
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| Renee, Theron, Matt, Grayson |
We had to wait an hour and a half, so we were beyond starving, but it was a great chance to catch up. And the dinner was delicious and reasonably priced. The kids even got balloon animals.
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| Allyson's Flower Popped Before We Left Restaurant |
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| Hopefully Theron Had Better Luck With His Mouse |
At the end of the trip, Amy said, "Even though we didn't go somewhere exotic, this was one of my favorite vacations ever." I have to agree.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Exactly 50 Words
Tonight is the first time in weeks that I have sat down to work on the manuscript for my novel. I've been so, so busy, and my heart has been on other concerns. But the story is always at the back of my mind, asking to be told.
In September I'll be attending a Christian writers' conference that I so enjoyed last year, and this time I will be attending a three-day mentoring workshop with a published author and 11 other aspiring authors. Tonight I completed the prerequisite: a 50-word summary of my book (plus the first five pages, which I had already written and rewritten a few times).
Do you have any idea how hard it is to sum up a novel in only 50 words? I can't even put it in words. I've already used well over 50 in this blog entry.
Since I did the work, and since I've told you very, very little about my novel up until now, I thought I'd share my summary, which is EXACTLY 50 words:
So there you have it. Before the workshop, I plan to finish typing my manuscript and hopefully do the first cuts so I'll be ready for some serious revisions.
Okay, now I've got lots of typing to do. Hope you're having a good weekend.
Love,
Sarah Louise
Writer
In September I'll be attending a Christian writers' conference that I so enjoyed last year, and this time I will be attending a three-day mentoring workshop with a published author and 11 other aspiring authors. Tonight I completed the prerequisite: a 50-word summary of my book (plus the first five pages, which I had already written and rewritten a few times).
Do you have any idea how hard it is to sum up a novel in only 50 words? I can't even put it in words. I've already used well over 50 in this blog entry.
Since I did the work, and since I've told you very, very little about my novel up until now, I thought I'd share my summary, which is EXACTLY 50 words:
Finding Rachel (working title; hope I can do better than that)
When Emma’s sister dies after a decade of estrangement, she seeks peace through reading her journals, but reliving old heartaches brings pain that might destroy her fragile marriage. As her life falls apart, she discovers the hope Rachel found through her growing faith, and her own faith begins to blossom.
So there you have it. Before the workshop, I plan to finish typing my manuscript and hopefully do the first cuts so I'll be ready for some serious revisions.
Okay, now I've got lots of typing to do. Hope you're having a good weekend.
Love,
Sarah Louise
Writer
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Even Luckier Than I Thought
To my relatives, some of whom have already heard this story in person three or four times, I'm sorry. I just have to repeat it for my other six blog readers. I don't know why, but this story is just so funny even though it wasn't at all funny at the time...
On the evening of Thursday, July 14, I remarked to Bill, "Did you turn off the upstairs A/C?"
"No, why?"
"Did you know it's 88 degrees up there?" [That's 31 Celsius to my Canadian and British friends.]
"Uh oh."
Bill immediately called a repairman, but he couldn't come until Friday evening. I normally work upstairs, but I had to move downstairs when the inside temperature rose into the high 90s. (It was about 103 outside--39 Celcius.) I was frantically working on a project that was due that day, and I needed to record some audio. But Bill was working at the downstairs table, so I needed to isolate myself in the downstairs half bath, which is very echoey.
After a brainstorm--or an attack of insanity, in Bill's view--I dragged Allyson's tiny dome tent down the stairs and into the bathroom. It took up the entire floor and had to flex around the toilet, but I was determined to make it work. I zipped myself in with my laptop, headset, and a foam reflux wedge pillow (to muffle echoes) and recorded away.
About 30 minutes later, our coworker Craig arrived with an old window unit to use until his brother could fix our air conditioning. I offered to help Bill carry it up the stairs and install it in the window.
"No, I've got it," he assured me. I would have argued with him, but I was really behind on my project, so I zipped myself back into the tent.
About five minutes later, I heard an ominous sound just outside the bathroom door leading to the porch: Clunk-clunk...ka-BLAM!
"I just about killed the dog!" Bill hollered from upstairs.
By the time I unzipped the tent and flung open the door, Bill was standing on the porch with clenched fists, cussing like a sailor. "What did I do to deserve this?" he demanded.
Lola stood next to him, glancing nervously up at the open second-story window and then at the mangled hunk of metal and plastic on the slate tiles. Bill pointed out the two dents in our barbecue grill (explaining the clunk-clunk I'd heard); he surmised that Lola had probably been sleeping in her customary spot under its shade. "She was just looking up at me in the window, as if to say, 'Why are you trying to kill me? What did I do to you?'" he said.
I supressed my laughter since Bill was all but stomping his feet he was so mad. "Well, I guess that's beyond repair," I sighed. I wanted to commiserate with him, but I had more audio to record, so I climbed back into the tent.
About 20 minutes later, I heard Bill rustling around upstairs again. Surely he couldn't have... no, no way. Must be doing something else, I thought. But then I heard a click and a low humming noise overhead. I unzipped the tent and thundered up the stairs.
There was Bill, basking in front of the icy breeze of that window unit, which he'd pieced together with Duck tape.
"You're amazing!" I gushed. "You're just... amazing."
Bill laughed sheepishly. He explained how he'd taken the machine apart, pounded out the bent metal, and taped it back together.
The plastic accordion pieces that fill in the window space were shattered, so he'd cut cardboard panels and taped them on either side of the unit, using blue painter's tape.
I planted a kiss on his sweaty mouth and went back down to my tent.
Some Good News At Last
When the repairman arrived, he quickly determined that our capacitor had blown up, and he was able to replace it for only $110. We had figured we'd have to replace the upstairs unit since this was the third breakdown, but he advised us to keep it as a new unit would be anywhere from $4000 and $6000!
"Man, we were lucky," I told Bill later that evening when I finally shut down the laptop for the night (without finishing the project, after all that sweating in the tent).
I ribbed him a bit more about having it in for the dog, and then I asked him exactly how it happened.
He explained that he'd initially gotten the unit into the window without a problem, but then he noticed that it was dripping on the carpet because Craig had hosed the coils down before he brought it over.
"I lifted up the window just a smidge to slide a towel under it," he said, "and it was so back heavy that it started to go. In that instant, I thought, 'This A/C is going out the window... I've got to catch it.' But immediately I had another thought: 'If I try to grab this, I'm going out the window with it.'" He lifted his hands out to his side, palms up. "So I watched it fall."
My entire body convulsed in a shudder as I pictured my husband's broken body next to the crumpled metal A/C. "I think God told you that," I said in a trembly voice. "It would have been instinct to grab it, and you didn't even have time to think."
I closed my eyes then and thanked God. Our dog was spared, we saved about $3900, and my husband was still with me. Not a bad day.
Oh, and one more thing. When Bill sent Craig a message breaking the news about destroying his window unit, he said, "Don't worry about it. I picked it up off my neighbor's curb!" Whew!
So what happened to that portable unit? It's still sitting in the window almost two weeks later. I think Bill's gotten attached to it; there's just something about standing in front of that frigid wind that you just don't get with central air.
"People like us are the reason the homeowners' associations forbid window units," I said. "It looks so tacky!" (Fortunately, we don't belong to an association.)
"I think we should get one in every room," Bill said. With this heat, maybe we will.
On the evening of Thursday, July 14, I remarked to Bill, "Did you turn off the upstairs A/C?"
"No, why?"
"Did you know it's 88 degrees up there?" [That's 31 Celsius to my Canadian and British friends.]
"Uh oh."
Bill immediately called a repairman, but he couldn't come until Friday evening. I normally work upstairs, but I had to move downstairs when the inside temperature rose into the high 90s. (It was about 103 outside--39 Celcius.) I was frantically working on a project that was due that day, and I needed to record some audio. But Bill was working at the downstairs table, so I needed to isolate myself in the downstairs half bath, which is very echoey.
After a brainstorm--or an attack of insanity, in Bill's view--I dragged Allyson's tiny dome tent down the stairs and into the bathroom. It took up the entire floor and had to flex around the toilet, but I was determined to make it work. I zipped myself in with my laptop, headset, and a foam reflux wedge pillow (to muffle echoes) and recorded away.
About 30 minutes later, our coworker Craig arrived with an old window unit to use until his brother could fix our air conditioning. I offered to help Bill carry it up the stairs and install it in the window.
"No, I've got it," he assured me. I would have argued with him, but I was really behind on my project, so I zipped myself back into the tent.
About five minutes later, I heard an ominous sound just outside the bathroom door leading to the porch: Clunk-clunk...ka-BLAM!
"I just about killed the dog!" Bill hollered from upstairs.
By the time I unzipped the tent and flung open the door, Bill was standing on the porch with clenched fists, cussing like a sailor. "What did I do to deserve this?" he demanded.
Lola stood next to him, glancing nervously up at the open second-story window and then at the mangled hunk of metal and plastic on the slate tiles. Bill pointed out the two dents in our barbecue grill (explaining the clunk-clunk I'd heard); he surmised that Lola had probably been sleeping in her customary spot under its shade. "She was just looking up at me in the window, as if to say, 'Why are you trying to kill me? What did I do to you?'" he said.
 |
| The A/C Landed Just In Front of the Grill, Which Lola Sleeps Under |
I supressed my laughter since Bill was all but stomping his feet he was so mad. "Well, I guess that's beyond repair," I sighed. I wanted to commiserate with him, but I had more audio to record, so I climbed back into the tent.
About 20 minutes later, I heard Bill rustling around upstairs again. Surely he couldn't have... no, no way. Must be doing something else, I thought. But then I heard a click and a low humming noise overhead. I unzipped the tent and thundered up the stairs.
There was Bill, basking in front of the icy breeze of that window unit, which he'd pieced together with Duck tape.
"You're amazing!" I gushed. "You're just... amazing."
Bill laughed sheepishly. He explained how he'd taken the machine apart, pounded out the bent metal, and taped it back together.
 |
| Can You See All the Tape? |
The plastic accordion pieces that fill in the window space were shattered, so he'd cut cardboard panels and taped them on either side of the unit, using blue painter's tape.
I planted a kiss on his sweaty mouth and went back down to my tent.
Some Good News At Last
When the repairman arrived, he quickly determined that our capacitor had blown up, and he was able to replace it for only $110. We had figured we'd have to replace the upstairs unit since this was the third breakdown, but he advised us to keep it as a new unit would be anywhere from $4000 and $6000!
"Man, we were lucky," I told Bill later that evening when I finally shut down the laptop for the night (without finishing the project, after all that sweating in the tent).
I ribbed him a bit more about having it in for the dog, and then I asked him exactly how it happened.
He explained that he'd initially gotten the unit into the window without a problem, but then he noticed that it was dripping on the carpet because Craig had hosed the coils down before he brought it over.
"I lifted up the window just a smidge to slide a towel under it," he said, "and it was so back heavy that it started to go. In that instant, I thought, 'This A/C is going out the window... I've got to catch it.' But immediately I had another thought: 'If I try to grab this, I'm going out the window with it.'" He lifted his hands out to his side, palms up. "So I watched it fall."
My entire body convulsed in a shudder as I pictured my husband's broken body next to the crumpled metal A/C. "I think God told you that," I said in a trembly voice. "It would have been instinct to grab it, and you didn't even have time to think."
I closed my eyes then and thanked God. Our dog was spared, we saved about $3900, and my husband was still with me. Not a bad day.
Oh, and one more thing. When Bill sent Craig a message breaking the news about destroying his window unit, he said, "Don't worry about it. I picked it up off my neighbor's curb!" Whew!
So what happened to that portable unit? It's still sitting in the window almost two weeks later. I think Bill's gotten attached to it; there's just something about standing in front of that frigid wind that you just don't get with central air.
 |
| See the Yellow Towel That Caused the Debacle? |
"People like us are the reason the homeowners' associations forbid window units," I said. "It looks so tacky!" (Fortunately, we don't belong to an association.)
"I think we should get one in every room," Bill said. With this heat, maybe we will.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Beyond Beyond
If you've been following this blog for long, you probably know that I frequently struggle with doubts about my faith. I can be ecstatic one day over an answered prayer or a sign I believe God's shown me, and then the next day I'm wondering if it was just a coincidence, and if my faith is even real. I find this frustrating, exhausting.
I've asked God to help me with my unbelief many times, but I guess I didn't have the faith to believe He could! I mean, I knew that He could, but I really didn't think I could let go of my doubts. Now, everything has changed.
For the last several weeks, I've been doing a Bible study by Kay Arthur, Priscilla Shirer, and Beth Moore called Faithful, Abundant, True; it's a sequel to the study I wrote about last summer called Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed.
In the first two weeks, Kay helped us see the faithfulness of God, and she challenged us to be steadfast in our faith. She reminded us that "without faith it is impossible to please God" (Hebrews 11:6). She told it like it is: "Unbelief is a lack of faith! And that is sin." The root of disobedience, she said, is unbelief.
I felt a strong conviction about indulging my doubts. I had always thought of my doubts as a weakness, but not as disobedience. When I read Kay's admonitions, I prayed and asked God to help me overcome these doubts.
During one of Kay's videos, I was so excited when I saw the key:
All these years of studying the Scriptures have resulted in a head knowledge that doesn't always translate into a changed life because I've been lacking a steadfast faith. In the next two videos, Priscilla Shirer admitted that she'd had the same problem. She inspired us to contemplate the abundance of God's power, to try to comprehend that God is ABLE. No matter what we need, she said, He is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we ask or think (Ephesians 3:20).
I felt a thrill of recognition at that verse, part of my current memory passage. As many times as I have studied and quoted that passage, Priscilla still managed to give me a new perspective on it. She pointed out the way Paul stacked up the adverbs: not just exceedingly or abundantly, but exceedingly abundantly. Here's one of the examples she gave to help us understand how God can go not only beyond what we think is possible, but even beyond that....
It's doubtful that any of us will ever experience such a thing with our teenage children, Priscilla said, but this is exactly how God works. He delights in surprising us, in giving gifts that are way beyond what we asked for.
The other thing she encouraged us to believe was that God wants to do exceedingly abundantly, above and beyond, for US. She said we need to get past looking at other people's answered prayers and thinking, I hope God has enough power left for me. God doesn't just have power; GOD IS POWER! He spoke the entire universe into being by the power of His word, and that power lives in us. We just have to unite it with our faith, as Kay said.
Priscilla also reminded us that God is interested in the little details of our daily life, and we should bring all our concerns and needs to him, not just what we think of as "big stuff." (To Him, none of our concerns are really big, anyway.)
As I listened to Prisicilla's message, my heartbeat quickened. Yes! I thought. Yes, it's time to believe that God is able to work in my life, time for my faith to arise.
Afterward, she asked Beth Moore to pray over everyone in the audience, and we all prayed along. I don't really remember what Beth said, but it moved me to tears, and I felt something click inside. I believe I was set free from my doubts at that moment.
Beyond My Beyond
Over the next few days, I found myself praying differently. I prayed about something that seemed sort of trivial, and I prayed a big, bold prayer. I was planning a garage sale for this past Saturday to raise money for my 3-Day Walk, and I was hoping to make a big dent in what I needed to meet the minimum fund raising requirement.
On one of my training walks, I said, "God, I know you care about everything that's important to me. I'm trusting you to bless this garage sale, to go way beyond what I dare to expect, and even beyond that. I'm praising you for going beyond beyond!"
I didn't only ask for money. I asked for an enjoyable experience, and an opportunity to love others and explain why I'm doing the walk, because of Laura's story. I asked that His anointing would be all over that sale.
Well guess what happened? Yep, BEYOND beyond. I was sort of hoping to raise $200. Five families had donated items for the sale, but we didn't have many "big ticket" items. Most of the items were priced at 25 to 50 cents.
Would you believe that all those little sales added up to $493?? I have to say it again: FOUR HUNDRED NINETY-THREE DOLLARS! My jaw dropped when Bill announced the grand total. With my company match, that puts me over the minimum! My walk is paid for!
And everything else I prayed for came to pass. It was an enjoyable experience (other than the sweltering heat). My sister Amy came over to help us with the setup, the sale, and the cleanup, and I so enjoyed working with her. I enjoyed watching the shoppers' excitement over each 25-cent shirt or pair of shorts, and the kids' joy over 25-cent toys. I enjoyed showing a picture of Laura and telling how she inspired me. And I even met a lady named Marge who's new to the area and who plans to join me on my training walks!
Ice Cold Lemonade
I especially enjoyed watching Allyson selling lemonade, something she'd been looking forward to for weeks and weeks. Would you believe that she sold about $30 worth of lemonade? And she donated over half of that to my walk.
I never dreamed a garage sale could be so fun, or so profitable. It was a definite case of beyond the beyond.
What's Next?
I've made a resolution, drawn a line in the sand. I know I will face doubts again (already have), but I realize now that I can choose how I respond. And I choose to believe. I choose to remember all God has done for me, and to unite my faith with what He promises in His word. That doesn't mean He'll always give me exactly what I want, but I have to believe He is able. And I have to believe that He knows what is best for me, and that sometimes going beyond what I ask or think won't look like what I think I need.
Would you hold me accountable? Please remind me of these truths when you catch me doubting.
I've asked God to help me with my unbelief many times, but I guess I didn't have the faith to believe He could! I mean, I knew that He could, but I really didn't think I could let go of my doubts. Now, everything has changed.
For the last several weeks, I've been doing a Bible study by Kay Arthur, Priscilla Shirer, and Beth Moore called Faithful, Abundant, True; it's a sequel to the study I wrote about last summer called Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed.
In the first two weeks, Kay helped us see the faithfulness of God, and she challenged us to be steadfast in our faith. She reminded us that "without faith it is impossible to please God" (Hebrews 11:6). She told it like it is: "Unbelief is a lack of faith! And that is sin." The root of disobedience, she said, is unbelief.
I felt a strong conviction about indulging my doubts. I had always thought of my doubts as a weakness, but not as disobedience. When I read Kay's admonitions, I prayed and asked God to help me overcome these doubts.
During one of Kay's videos, I was so excited when I saw the key:
For indeed we have had good news preached to us, just as they also; but the word they heard did not profit them, because it was not united by faith in those who heard. (Hebrews 4:2)Do you see it? It's not enough to just read the Word. I have to unite it with faith in order for it to profit me. And where does faith come from? By hearing--by hearing the Word of God. (Romans 10:17)
All these years of studying the Scriptures have resulted in a head knowledge that doesn't always translate into a changed life because I've been lacking a steadfast faith. In the next two videos, Priscilla Shirer admitted that she'd had the same problem. She inspired us to contemplate the abundance of God's power, to try to comprehend that God is ABLE. No matter what we need, she said, He is able to do exceedingly abundantly above all we ask or think (Ephesians 3:20).
I felt a thrill of recognition at that verse, part of my current memory passage. As many times as I have studied and quoted that passage, Priscilla still managed to give me a new perspective on it. She pointed out the way Paul stacked up the adverbs: not just exceedingly or abundantly, but exceedingly abundantly. Here's one of the examples she gave to help us understand how God can go not only beyond what we think is possible, but even beyond that....
Imagine you went away for the day, and you asked your teenager to clean his room. When you returned, you were shocked to find that not only was his room clean, but that the whole house was spotless. Now that's beyond what you would even imagine, right? But now suppose that not only had your son cleaned the whole house, but he had also drawn you a bubble bath and had your dinner ready on a tray to eat in the tub. That's BEYOND beyond.
It's doubtful that any of us will ever experience such a thing with our teenage children, Priscilla said, but this is exactly how God works. He delights in surprising us, in giving gifts that are way beyond what we asked for.
The other thing she encouraged us to believe was that God wants to do exceedingly abundantly, above and beyond, for US. She said we need to get past looking at other people's answered prayers and thinking, I hope God has enough power left for me. God doesn't just have power; GOD IS POWER! He spoke the entire universe into being by the power of His word, and that power lives in us. We just have to unite it with our faith, as Kay said.
Priscilla also reminded us that God is interested in the little details of our daily life, and we should bring all our concerns and needs to him, not just what we think of as "big stuff." (To Him, none of our concerns are really big, anyway.)
As I listened to Prisicilla's message, my heartbeat quickened. Yes! I thought. Yes, it's time to believe that God is able to work in my life, time for my faith to arise.
Afterward, she asked Beth Moore to pray over everyone in the audience, and we all prayed along. I don't really remember what Beth said, but it moved me to tears, and I felt something click inside. I believe I was set free from my doubts at that moment.
Beyond My Beyond
Over the next few days, I found myself praying differently. I prayed about something that seemed sort of trivial, and I prayed a big, bold prayer. I was planning a garage sale for this past Saturday to raise money for my 3-Day Walk, and I was hoping to make a big dent in what I needed to meet the minimum fund raising requirement.
On one of my training walks, I said, "God, I know you care about everything that's important to me. I'm trusting you to bless this garage sale, to go way beyond what I dare to expect, and even beyond that. I'm praising you for going beyond beyond!"
I didn't only ask for money. I asked for an enjoyable experience, and an opportunity to love others and explain why I'm doing the walk, because of Laura's story. I asked that His anointing would be all over that sale.
Well guess what happened? Yep, BEYOND beyond. I was sort of hoping to raise $200. Five families had donated items for the sale, but we didn't have many "big ticket" items. Most of the items were priced at 25 to 50 cents.
 |
| Toward the End of the Sale (There Were Mobs Around that Table) |
Would you believe that all those little sales added up to $493?? I have to say it again: FOUR HUNDRED NINETY-THREE DOLLARS! My jaw dropped when Bill announced the grand total. With my company match, that puts me over the minimum! My walk is paid for!
And everything else I prayed for came to pass. It was an enjoyable experience (other than the sweltering heat). My sister Amy came over to help us with the setup, the sale, and the cleanup, and I so enjoyed working with her. I enjoyed watching the shoppers' excitement over each 25-cent shirt or pair of shorts, and the kids' joy over 25-cent toys. I enjoyed showing a picture of Laura and telling how she inspired me. And I even met a lady named Marge who's new to the area and who plans to join me on my training walks!
Ice Cold Lemonade
I especially enjoyed watching Allyson selling lemonade, something she'd been looking forward to for weeks and weeks. Would you believe that she sold about $30 worth of lemonade? And she donated over half of that to my walk.
 |
| Special Customers--Gentle's Son Liam and Daughter Grace |
I never dreamed a garage sale could be so fun, or so profitable. It was a definite case of beyond the beyond.
What's Next?
I've made a resolution, drawn a line in the sand. I know I will face doubts again (already have), but I realize now that I can choose how I respond. And I choose to believe. I choose to remember all God has done for me, and to unite my faith with what He promises in His word. That doesn't mean He'll always give me exactly what I want, but I have to believe He is able. And I have to believe that He knows what is best for me, and that sometimes going beyond what I ask or think won't look like what I think I need.
Would you hold me accountable? Please remind me of these truths when you catch me doubting.
Friday, July 1, 2011
God, Jesus, and Chicken Nuggets
We've had some interesting dinner conversation this week.
A couple nights ago, Allyson got ahold of the salt shaker and mounded salt over her potatoes. "Gross!" Ethan said. "You're not going to eat that."
After Bill knocked off most of the salt, Allyson greedily gobbled a few bites. "I love salt!" she said.
"If I ate all that salt, I'd throw up," Ethan said.
"I'll give you five dollars to eat her potatoes," Bill said slyly.
"I wouldn't do it for five dollars, but..." I could see the wheels turning. "How much would it take for you to eat something that would make you throw up?" he asked.
"I don't think you could pay me to throw up," I answered. "Well... I might do it for $500."
"Hmm," Ethan mused. "I'd do it for $15." (This was shocking considering Ethan's extreme phobia about vomiting.)
Before Bill could get out his wallet, I said, "Okay. Enough talk of vomit at the table!"
A few days before that, I couldn't get Allyson out of the pool for dinner, so I brought out my secret weapon: leftover meatloaf, which I thought was her favorite food.
She still didn't want to get out until I offered to let her eat on the back porch. She hopped right out then and sat down at the picnic table, with water streaming down all her limbs. Around a bite of meatloaf, she mumbled, "Know who makes the best chicken nuggets in the world?"
I thought back to our play date the day before. "Umm, Chick Fil-A?"
She beamed. "Yes! They do have the best chicken nuggets.... next to God, of course." Her mouth twitched as she pondered this idea (just like her daddy's mouth moves when he's deep in thought). "And I guess Jesus, too," she went on. "Yes, it's God, Jesus, and then Chick Fil-A"
I fought to contain my laughter. "I never thought about that," I said. "But I guess God probably does make the best chicken nuggets. Or the best chickens."
She looked so cute there at the table in her suit, with a diver's mask atop her dripping hair and tomato sauce on her chin, that I had to snap a picture.
When she saw me taking a picture, she said, "Here, take a picture of me feeding meatloaf to Lola." So much for meatloaf being her favorite food. Darn those chicken nuggets!
The Love Children
In other news, remember those pesky birds who found a love connection on our pool deck? Well, I think their babies are hanging around now on our front porch. The other morning, Bill called Allyson and me out to see them. "Come quick!" he urged, holding his finger up to his lips. "But be quiet."
And there were two young birds, sitting sedately on our porch bench. They weren't bothered by us at all, and indeed seemed to be striking a regal pose for our camera.
I found it amusing that Bill wasn't nearly as annoyed by these cute little birds as he had been by the love birds a few weeks ago. It was Allyson who found the black clouds in the silver lining, after the birds had been lounging on top of and under the bench all day. "Ewww! Look at all this poop!" she exclaimed.
Darn those birds!
A couple nights ago, Allyson got ahold of the salt shaker and mounded salt over her potatoes. "Gross!" Ethan said. "You're not going to eat that."
After Bill knocked off most of the salt, Allyson greedily gobbled a few bites. "I love salt!" she said.
"If I ate all that salt, I'd throw up," Ethan said.
"I'll give you five dollars to eat her potatoes," Bill said slyly.
"I wouldn't do it for five dollars, but..." I could see the wheels turning. "How much would it take for you to eat something that would make you throw up?" he asked.
"I don't think you could pay me to throw up," I answered. "Well... I might do it for $500."
"Hmm," Ethan mused. "I'd do it for $15." (This was shocking considering Ethan's extreme phobia about vomiting.)
Before Bill could get out his wallet, I said, "Okay. Enough talk of vomit at the table!"
A few days before that, I couldn't get Allyson out of the pool for dinner, so I brought out my secret weapon: leftover meatloaf, which I thought was her favorite food.
She still didn't want to get out until I offered to let her eat on the back porch. She hopped right out then and sat down at the picnic table, with water streaming down all her limbs. Around a bite of meatloaf, she mumbled, "Know who makes the best chicken nuggets in the world?"
I thought back to our play date the day before. "Umm, Chick Fil-A?"
She beamed. "Yes! They do have the best chicken nuggets.... next to God, of course." Her mouth twitched as she pondered this idea (just like her daddy's mouth moves when he's deep in thought). "And I guess Jesus, too," she went on. "Yes, it's God, Jesus, and then Chick Fil-A"
I fought to contain my laughter. "I never thought about that," I said. "But I guess God probably does make the best chicken nuggets. Or the best chickens."
She looked so cute there at the table in her suit, with a diver's mask atop her dripping hair and tomato sauce on her chin, that I had to snap a picture.
When she saw me taking a picture, she said, "Here, take a picture of me feeding meatloaf to Lola." So much for meatloaf being her favorite food. Darn those chicken nuggets!
The Love Children
In other news, remember those pesky birds who found a love connection on our pool deck? Well, I think their babies are hanging around now on our front porch. The other morning, Bill called Allyson and me out to see them. "Come quick!" he urged, holding his finger up to his lips. "But be quiet."
And there were two young birds, sitting sedately on our porch bench. They weren't bothered by us at all, and indeed seemed to be striking a regal pose for our camera.
Darn those birds!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Touched By An Angel - At Walmart
Thank you to everyone who has been praying and sending me words of encouragement and showing me kindnesses, little and big. I'm sorry I haven't posted an update. El Paso was wonderful beyond my expectations. Laura's extended family and group of friends welcomed me as one of their own, and I took delight in hearing their recollections, though sometimes all I could understand was the laughter (and tears). [I'm determined to learn Spanish along with Ethan this year when he starts high school.]
Best of all was that I think I made a "heart friend" in Laura's cousin Mariana, who welcomed me into her home and reminisced for hours with me.
When I came back home, though, my sorrow and weariness overtook me. I've had a rough couple of days. I can't even put into words what I've been feeling, but my friend Gentle has done a good job of expressing it.
Here's a link to a story she posted today that really lifted my spirits...
Touched By an Angel - At Walmart
Please keep praying for everyone who loves Laura.
Best of all was that I think I made a "heart friend" in Laura's cousin Mariana, who welcomed me into her home and reminisced for hours with me.
 |
| We Released 100 Balloons on the Count of Eleven |
When I came back home, though, my sorrow and weariness overtook me. I've had a rough couple of days. I can't even put into words what I've been feeling, but my friend Gentle has done a good job of expressing it.
 |
| Gentle and I in the Shirts She Designed for our Three-Day Walk |
Here's a link to a story she posted today that really lifted my spirits...
Touched By an Angel - At Walmart
Please keep praying for everyone who loves Laura.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Off to El Paso
Just wanted to let you know I am headed to El Paso today to attend Laura's Celebration of Life tomorrow. I'm driving down with her family (10 hours!) and flying back Sunday. I'm excited about spending more time with them but also a little nervous since I don't know them that well yet.
Thank you to everyone for your prayers and comforting words over the last week. I'm doing okay, up and down. I get so thrilled over how God shows me signs of his loving kindness, but then I suddenly feel... flattened. The last two days I did a lot of crying, and I think that is a good thing. The numbness is wearing off.
I'll probably do lots more crying this weekend, but hopefully some smiling and laughing too as I listen to her loved ones reminiscing over her life. Please pray for safe travel and for God to comfort us all.
I love you guys.
Sarah Louise
Thank you to everyone for your prayers and comforting words over the last week. I'm doing okay, up and down. I get so thrilled over how God shows me signs of his loving kindness, but then I suddenly feel... flattened. The last two days I did a lot of crying, and I think that is a good thing. The numbness is wearing off.
I'll probably do lots more crying this weekend, but hopefully some smiling and laughing too as I listen to her loved ones reminiscing over her life. Please pray for safe travel and for God to comfort us all.
I love you guys.
Sarah Louise
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Home on the 11th
It grieves me to tell you this. My sweet friend Laura passed away yesterday morning at 6:40 A.M. It didn't come as a shock to me after watching her rapid decline, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. I'm not even sure how much it is going to hurt because I haven't really allowed myself to grieve yet. I've scarcely cried, except at inopportune moments like waiting in the bank line and watching Ethan's slide show the day after he returned from his school trip to Washington, D.C.
It just doesn't seem real. I can't fathom that I will never go for another walk with her, or eat lunch with her, or give her a hug. And I will never get to have my picture made with her. Wish we'd gotten around to that. I don't even want to think about how her son Samuel, who turns five in a couple weeks, will make sense of this. I know that she was suffering terribly, and I know she's in a better place, but my heart aches for her family.
One thing that has brought comfort to her husband is the fact that she died on the 11th, 6/11/11 to be exact. (You may recall she felt a special connection to the number 11.) We met on the 11th (4/11/10). I saw a rainbow over her house at 8:11. And just a few days before her death, our friend Gentle found an 11th verse when she was praying over my upcoming visit with Laura:
And that's all I have to say for now. I think it's time to go have that cry now.
It just doesn't seem real. I can't fathom that I will never go for another walk with her, or eat lunch with her, or give her a hug. And I will never get to have my picture made with her. Wish we'd gotten around to that. I don't even want to think about how her son Samuel, who turns five in a couple weeks, will make sense of this. I know that she was suffering terribly, and I know she's in a better place, but my heart aches for her family.
One thing that has brought comfort to her husband is the fact that she died on the 11th, 6/11/11 to be exact. (You may recall she felt a special connection to the number 11.) We met on the 11th (4/11/10). I saw a rainbow over her house at 8:11. And just a few days before her death, our friend Gentle found an 11th verse when she was praying over my upcoming visit with Laura:
Psalm 91:11 - For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways.I had planned to whisper that verse in her ear yesterday afternoon, but those angels came and carried her home before I could get there.
And that's all I have to say for now. I think it's time to go have that cry now.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
An Angel Named Matthew
I'm sorry I've been so quiet. It's been a busy, busy couple of weeks. I have many stories to tell, and hopefully I will get to the best ones, but here's the one that's been burning in my heart for over a week now....
A week to the day after God hung a rainbow over my friend Laura's house, I had another opportunity to see her, this time five hours away in Houston. I was visiting my cousin Chris in a different hospital just three blocks from Laura.
After I'd programmed in the main address and set my navigator to walking mode, my sister Amy and I set off in the cool of the evening. As we walked, I thought about the comfort that came with the rainbow, the way God filled me up so I could share His love with Laura. Are you going to give me another sign this time? I asked. I looked up at the clear blue sky: no chance of a rainbow here. I could sure use a sign tonight, I thought.
After only a block, we saw a hospital bearing the name we were looking for, but the navigator said we had a quarter mile to go still, so we kept walking. After another block, we saw yet another hospital with the same name, but this one seemed to be on the wrong street. And the navigator said we needed to go one more block down and then turn right.
We stood paralyzed on a corner, looking back and forth between the two buildings and the navigator. We didn't have time for a wrong turn because we'd be meeting our family in under an hour.
Suddenly, I noticed a young man on my left. "What are you ladies looking for?" he asked.
I studied him for just a moment before answering. He was a short, blonde man who appeared to be in his early to mid twenties, and he wore a name badge on a lanyard around his neck. He carried a fast food bag under one arm and a large soda in each hand. Deciding he looked harmless enough, I told him the name of the hospital and showed him the address I'd scribbled on a scrap of paper.
"What room is she in?" he asked.
"G1249," I answered.
"I know exactly where that is," he said. He started to give us directions, but he wasn't able to point due to the drinks. "I'll just take you there," he said.
Thank you, God! I thought. You sure sent the right person along.
"God sure knew who to send to guide you on your way, didn't he?" the young man asked.
I gasped. "I was just thinking exactly the same thing!"
As we followed him across the street to the second building we'd spotted (the one I thought was on the wrong street), he chatted with us as if we were friends. I was struck by his utter lack of self-consciousness, and by his simple manner, befitting a country boy.
"There are over 2 million square feet in these buildings, and I know pretty much all of them," he said. "I work in inventory."
He led us past security, where he had to flip over his badge for the guard. I noted then that his name was Matthew. From there, he took us to an elevator, and I was ashamed that I let him press the call button with his elbow. We rode halfway up before he realized this was the wrong elevator.
"I'm sorry," he said, pressing the button for the main floor. "It gets confusing."
"No problem!" we said. I asked him if he was sure he had time to show us around, and he assured me he had nothing better to do--though surely we must have been cutting into his lunch hour!
On the way back down, I said something about him being a blessing to us. "I'm Sarah, and this is my sister Amy," I said.
He turned to face Amy and announced, in a voice that was almost formal, "Amy means 'beloved of God.'"
"Yes, it does," Amy agreed. "That's why my mother chose that name."
"What does Matthew mean?" I asked.
"God's gift," he answered without hesitation.
I stared at this young man through the corner of my eye. Why would he know the meaning of my sister's name? Why would he take the time to lead two strangers to the 12th floor?
As we walked to another bank of elevators across the building, I couldn't resist voicing my thoughts. "I think you really are a messenger." Matthew smiled and punched the call button with the tip of his middle finger. Darn it!
When we reached our floor, he led us down the hall and around the corner. "Just go to the end of this hall and the room will be to your left," he said.
"Thank you so much!" we said. "God bless you," I called after him. He disappeared around the corner, but the sense of calm I felt in his presence stayed with me.
When I saw Laura, I told her about my latest sign. "I think I just saw an angel," I joked. "His name was Matthew, and he was carrying fast food."
We stayed with her for about 30 minutes, mainly visiting with her father and her college friend Angelica, who was visiting from Lubbock. When Laura's mother Blanca arrived, she asked if we would like to pray. "Yes!" I said.
Laura's parents knelt on the floor and laid their hands on her knees. Amy and I stood on the other side of the bed and touched her arm and leg. Angelica stood across from us at her head. I took a deep breath and prayed for angels to surround Laura and minister to her, to wrap her in peace and love and give her rest. I prayed for healing, and I prayed my beloved Psalm 139 over her.
When I said amen, Amy took up where I'd left off. She prayed for Laura's son Samuel. Then, making the sign of the cross over Laura, Angelica prayed for the saints and angels to watch over her.
Blanca prayed last, all in Spanish. I caught very few words (like Lord and health), but I was very moved. It was as if my spirit could hear the Holy Spirit in her because the words didn't get in the way, sort of like a time when I heard Josh Groban singing in Latin and was moved to tears because his voice was an exquisite instrument.
My tears dropped onto Laura's blanket as I prayed in full agreement with her mother. When she said amen, we all stood in silence for a few moments, savoring God's presence. And then it was time to give Laura a hug and say goodbye.
When I hugged her parents, each told me the same thing: "You are an angel to Laura, and to our family."
I got to see Laura again the next morning, got to hold her hand and quote scriptures and tell her how God takes great delight in her, how He rejoices over her with singing and quiets her with his love. (Zephaniah 3:17)
It wasn't until I collapsed into bed that evening, after driving for hours, that I thought of Matthew again. On the edge of sleep, I felt a grin spreading over my face as I exulted in the way God had lavished his love upon me, giving me assurance that he was guiding us. God, was he an angel? He really was. Wasn't he?
When I told the whole story to my friend Gentle the next morning, she gasped. "You know how Laura calls you her angel, and you always say you're not an angel?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Well, when I knew you were going to see her, I prayed that God would show you how you really can be an angel to her."
I heard the excitement in her voice and felt the wonder myself. "So that's why God sent Matthew!" I said. "Maybe he wasn't really an angel, but he was an angel to me. God answered your prayer, Gentle!"
But I still can't shake the conviction that Matthew was a real angel. I talked it over with Amy this weekend. "Did you feel it too?"
"There was something in the way he told me the meaning of my name," she agreed. "It was almost like he was delivering a message. I do believe we each have angels."
"Maybe he was YOUR angel!" I said.
I guess we'll never know until we get to heaven.
Have you ever seen an angel, or suspected that you did? Do you know anyone who's seen an angel?
A week to the day after God hung a rainbow over my friend Laura's house, I had another opportunity to see her, this time five hours away in Houston. I was visiting my cousin Chris in a different hospital just three blocks from Laura.
After I'd programmed in the main address and set my navigator to walking mode, my sister Amy and I set off in the cool of the evening. As we walked, I thought about the comfort that came with the rainbow, the way God filled me up so I could share His love with Laura. Are you going to give me another sign this time? I asked. I looked up at the clear blue sky: no chance of a rainbow here. I could sure use a sign tonight, I thought.
After only a block, we saw a hospital bearing the name we were looking for, but the navigator said we had a quarter mile to go still, so we kept walking. After another block, we saw yet another hospital with the same name, but this one seemed to be on the wrong street. And the navigator said we needed to go one more block down and then turn right.
We stood paralyzed on a corner, looking back and forth between the two buildings and the navigator. We didn't have time for a wrong turn because we'd be meeting our family in under an hour.
Suddenly, I noticed a young man on my left. "What are you ladies looking for?" he asked.
I studied him for just a moment before answering. He was a short, blonde man who appeared to be in his early to mid twenties, and he wore a name badge on a lanyard around his neck. He carried a fast food bag under one arm and a large soda in each hand. Deciding he looked harmless enough, I told him the name of the hospital and showed him the address I'd scribbled on a scrap of paper.
"What room is she in?" he asked.
"G1249," I answered.
"I know exactly where that is," he said. He started to give us directions, but he wasn't able to point due to the drinks. "I'll just take you there," he said.
Thank you, God! I thought. You sure sent the right person along.
"God sure knew who to send to guide you on your way, didn't he?" the young man asked.
I gasped. "I was just thinking exactly the same thing!"
As we followed him across the street to the second building we'd spotted (the one I thought was on the wrong street), he chatted with us as if we were friends. I was struck by his utter lack of self-consciousness, and by his simple manner, befitting a country boy.
"There are over 2 million square feet in these buildings, and I know pretty much all of them," he said. "I work in inventory."
He led us past security, where he had to flip over his badge for the guard. I noted then that his name was Matthew. From there, he took us to an elevator, and I was ashamed that I let him press the call button with his elbow. We rode halfway up before he realized this was the wrong elevator.
"I'm sorry," he said, pressing the button for the main floor. "It gets confusing."
"No problem!" we said. I asked him if he was sure he had time to show us around, and he assured me he had nothing better to do--though surely we must have been cutting into his lunch hour!
On the way back down, I said something about him being a blessing to us. "I'm Sarah, and this is my sister Amy," I said.
He turned to face Amy and announced, in a voice that was almost formal, "Amy means 'beloved of God.'"
"Yes, it does," Amy agreed. "That's why my mother chose that name."
"What does Matthew mean?" I asked.
"God's gift," he answered without hesitation.
I stared at this young man through the corner of my eye. Why would he know the meaning of my sister's name? Why would he take the time to lead two strangers to the 12th floor?
As we walked to another bank of elevators across the building, I couldn't resist voicing my thoughts. "I think you really are a messenger." Matthew smiled and punched the call button with the tip of his middle finger. Darn it!
When we reached our floor, he led us down the hall and around the corner. "Just go to the end of this hall and the room will be to your left," he said.
"Thank you so much!" we said. "God bless you," I called after him. He disappeared around the corner, but the sense of calm I felt in his presence stayed with me.
When I saw Laura, I told her about my latest sign. "I think I just saw an angel," I joked. "His name was Matthew, and he was carrying fast food."
We stayed with her for about 30 minutes, mainly visiting with her father and her college friend Angelica, who was visiting from Lubbock. When Laura's mother Blanca arrived, she asked if we would like to pray. "Yes!" I said.
Laura's parents knelt on the floor and laid their hands on her knees. Amy and I stood on the other side of the bed and touched her arm and leg. Angelica stood across from us at her head. I took a deep breath and prayed for angels to surround Laura and minister to her, to wrap her in peace and love and give her rest. I prayed for healing, and I prayed my beloved Psalm 139 over her.
When I said amen, Amy took up where I'd left off. She prayed for Laura's son Samuel. Then, making the sign of the cross over Laura, Angelica prayed for the saints and angels to watch over her.
Blanca prayed last, all in Spanish. I caught very few words (like Lord and health), but I was very moved. It was as if my spirit could hear the Holy Spirit in her because the words didn't get in the way, sort of like a time when I heard Josh Groban singing in Latin and was moved to tears because his voice was an exquisite instrument.
My tears dropped onto Laura's blanket as I prayed in full agreement with her mother. When she said amen, we all stood in silence for a few moments, savoring God's presence. And then it was time to give Laura a hug and say goodbye.
When I hugged her parents, each told me the same thing: "You are an angel to Laura, and to our family."
I got to see Laura again the next morning, got to hold her hand and quote scriptures and tell her how God takes great delight in her, how He rejoices over her with singing and quiets her with his love. (Zephaniah 3:17)
It wasn't until I collapsed into bed that evening, after driving for hours, that I thought of Matthew again. On the edge of sleep, I felt a grin spreading over my face as I exulted in the way God had lavished his love upon me, giving me assurance that he was guiding us. God, was he an angel? He really was. Wasn't he?
When I told the whole story to my friend Gentle the next morning, she gasped. "You know how Laura calls you her angel, and you always say you're not an angel?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Well, when I knew you were going to see her, I prayed that God would show you how you really can be an angel to her."
I heard the excitement in her voice and felt the wonder myself. "So that's why God sent Matthew!" I said. "Maybe he wasn't really an angel, but he was an angel to me. God answered your prayer, Gentle!"
 |
| Gentle and Laura on Our Girls' Night a Few Months Back |
But I still can't shake the conviction that Matthew was a real angel. I talked it over with Amy this weekend. "Did you feel it too?"
"There was something in the way he told me the meaning of my name," she agreed. "It was almost like he was delivering a message. I do believe we each have angels."
"Maybe he was YOUR angel!" I said.
I guess we'll never know until we get to heaven.
Have you ever seen an angel, or suspected that you did? Do you know anyone who's seen an angel?
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