Thursday Stories

This week’s brave story is from a young mom I had the privilege of getting to know through MOPs. Her story is incredible. She is being brave in the face of uncertainties and nont-normal-ness and she is rocking it. I hope you are inspired by her story!

Stories from San Antonio

When have I had to be brave? Well I’m not sure if I can call it being brave, scared, or just thrown into a situation that I had absolutely no control over. You might call it bravery, but I call it my life.
When I was in my second trimester with my daughter, I found out that she had what’s called a two-vessel umbilical cord. This means that she only had one artery and one vein, as opposed to two arteries and two veins found in a healthy umbilical cord. My OB doctor told me there was nothing to worry about, but after my mom did some research on it and found out that there’s a chance my baby could have heart or kidney problems, I asked to see a specialist.
That first appointment with the specialist did not go as well as I could have hoped. The doctor found out she had a Ventricular Septal Defect (VSD), which meant that the ventricle wall had a hole in it, which also means poor circulation. The size of this hole would determine if she was going to need surgery or not when she was born. At this appointment, I also agreed to an amniocentesis because if anything else was wrong I just wanted to know. Knowing was good because that gave me time before baby was born to prepare my mind and my heart. Thankfully my daughter did not have any chromosomal abnormalities. All was well except her poor little heart.
For the rest of my pregnancy, I had ultrasounds at every appointment, as well as an echocardiogram to make sure my little angel was okay and to monitor the progress of her heart, whether that was good or bad. We suspected that she had a second defect, but could never get a good enough view because her sweet little arms always covered her heart. We were hoping that she was just going to surprise us with no more defects when she was born, and that it was her way of keeping it a surprise!
Lydia Sharee’ Hancock was born January 29, 2013, four weeks early at 4 lbs., 10 oz. I saw her for five minutes before they whisked her away to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) to do another echocardiogram so that they could check her heart again. Finding out if your newborn’s circulation is healthy is not something you wait to do. It turned out Lydia had VSD as well as coarctation of the aorta. The Mayo Clinic defines this as “a narrowing of the aorta, the large blood vessel that branches off your heart and delivers oxygen-rich blood to your body.” We found out soon afterwards that Lydia had a severe case. She was given an IV and later a PICC line that delivered a constant dose of prostin to keep an extra valve in her heart open that otherwise closes soon after birth. This valve is used in utero to deliver oxygen to the rest of the body while the lungs are not in use.
We decided about two weeks later that Lydia needed heart surgery sooner rather than later. Long story short, she had open heart surgery with bypass on February 19, 2013. They had to reopen her chest as soon as they got to the PICU after surgery because the edema was so severe. She went into cardiac arrest three days later, had CPR and an AED used on her for over 30 minutes with no oxygen to her brain. She was on ECMO (bypass) for three days because she went into heart, lung and kidney failure, had her chest open for 8 days, had numerous drainage tubes sticking out of her chest, and she had to have peritoneal dialysis.

This mamma was a mess! That was the hardest thing I have ever had, and I think I will ever have, to go through.

I have a hard time calling it bravery because it was a situation that was out of control. I was right in the middle of it, and couldn’t do anything but stand by as nurses and doctors worked tirelessly around the clock to save my baby’s life. I remember asking them, “Is she okay? Will she get better?” and the nurses would look at me with the most sad look in their eyes and just say, “Your daughter is very sick.” That’s it. I’m tearing up now just thinking about it. I was 19 years old and had just been through what most moms don’t even know that other moms go through. Who knew??
Looking back, I know it was the grace of God that got me through those hard times. Right now, almost two years later I am still performing daily acts of bravery. Lydia is lovely, and she is doing the best she has ever been, but she still has so many things going on right now: brain damage, severe developmental delay, hydrocephalus with a VP shunt, epilepsy, tracheotomy, ventilator, gtube, reflux, ketogenic diet, up to 6+ meds twice a day, nurses at my house almost around the clock to help me take care of her, occupational, physical and speech therapy, case managers, monthly medical supply orders–the list is endless! I am constantly seeking out God’s help.

I have my ups and downs. Sometimes I get by just fine and really enjoy my daughter. Other times, I really struggle and just don’t want to deal with it.

I know people like to say that, “God only gives you what you can handle.” I have to say that after being Lydia’s mom I know that God definitely gives you things that you CANNOT handle. He wants you to lean on Him so that He can handle them for you! Psalm 138:3 says, “In the day when I cried out, You answered me, and made me bold with strength in my soul,” Another verse: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.” (2 Cor. 12:9).

I’m not really sure how else to end this because this journey is still ongoing for me, and it is a daily struggle. But all I know is that studying my Bible, praying, growing closer to Him, and spending time with my daughter has helped me work through this. Lydia has taught me more than I ever could have imagined, and she still teaches me daily.

Here are some verses that really speak to me in my situation. Really pay attention to what they say when you read them:

Lamentations 3:22-24 New International Version (NIV)
22 Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,
for his compassions never fail.
23 They are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion;
therefore I will wait for him.”

Zephaniah 3:17 New Living Translation (NLT)
17 For the Lord your God is living among you.
He is a mighty savior.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
With his love, he will calm all your fears.[a]
He will rejoice over you with joyful songs.”

1 Peter 5:6-7 New Living Translation (NLT)
6 So humble yourselves under the mighty power of God, and at the right time he will lift you up in honor. 7 Give all your worries and cares to God, for he cares about you.

Jeremiah 29:11 New Living Translation (NLT)
11 “For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”

Thursday Stories

Today’s brave story comes all the way from Brazil written by MOPs leader Klibelle Dudusch Simões. Morgan Perez translated for us to be able to read it today! I love her brave story about trusting God for provision! I hope you enjoy reading it!

Stories from Brazil

For days I’ve been thinking I’d write about how wonderful it is to live and to feel God’s care, but I didn’t even know where to begin; how to use the “right words”. Today I decided that it doesn’t matter…I’ll write it out and whoever wants to read it can.

Five years ago, when our daughter Bia was born, we decided that we wouldn’t have any more children. Yes, from the moment she was born…

We took everything into consideration: the work that goes into caring for a child, the expenses, the lack of money, the time commitment, this fallen world, the government, and our age (we’re not as young as we once were). Basically, all the stuff we parents know and worry about.

A few months ago, Bia started asking for a sibling, rather insistently. Some people told us to get her a dog; that this phase would pass. We prayed about it, but only the “scripted” way, and always putting our human concerns in the forefront, like the difficulty of becoming pregnant quickly (because I’m certain the necessary medicines, age, and even weight all play a huge role in that). That’s when I gave God an ultimatum (which is absolutely ridiculous) for a pregnancy timeline. I gave Him one month. (You read that right: one month.)

If it didn’t happen in that one month, it would be a confirmation that another little baby was not part of “God’s will” for us. Exactly one month later I got sick after drinking a glass of water: it was our new little baby. As soon as the pregnancy was confirmed, I began worrying about all the expenses we certainly couldn’t handle.

And that’s what I wanted to talk about: the care and love God has for us even when we’re disbelieving. God’s faithfulness, even when we’re unfaithful. God’s love that humbles me moment to moment. During one of my countless worrying sessions, my husband said, “We have to remember that we are not orphans in Christ, and He is the one who takes care of us.”

Amen! (And, as an orphan of earthly parents, this gave me tremendous peace, especially considering the context of the conversation.) We’ve been blessed in surprising ways: family, brother and sisters in Christ, friends….

But this message isn’t about telling people it’s wrong to have only one child, or that you should have two or more. Not in any way. It is up to every couple to make that decision for themselves. I’m trying to say that children are an inheritance from God. I’m not trying to tell you that you should reach beyond your means, but that God is the one who cares for us, that loves us, that always provides. This message is a public demonstration of God’s faithfulness, and about how wonderful it is to serve Him.

In all the hard times, He has sustained me. I know tough times will come, but I want to have my eyes turned to the Lord, because I know where my Help comes from.

“My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of heaven and earth. He will not let your foot slip-He who watches over you will not slumber. Indeed, He who watches over Israel will neither slumber nor sleep.” Psalm 121:2-4

Thursday Stories

Welcome back to Thursday Stories! This week, we are hearing from a dear friend of mine, Haley. In the time I’ve known her, I have seen God move in powerful ways in her life. She is unashamed of her vulnerability and is always ready to point to Christ as her source of strength, which she seems to have more of in her little finger than I have in my whole body. I hope you  are inspired by Haley’s story!

Stories from San Antonio

When Aly asked me to do this I was really excited, but at that moment–AND since–I have been really scared! I am NOT brave. Thoughts of inadequacy, “I’m just a normal, ordinary girl who has MS, what do I have to say?” Satan is trying to defeat me through all of these thoughts, but I’m not going to let him. It’s a constant battle, right? Here’s some of my story:

In 2000, I drove with my parents to the neurologist because I was having some eye problems. They told me it might be multiple sclerosis. I was 20, and the eye didn’t seem like a big deal. I remember my parents crying and my thinking that it wasn’t a big deal and didn’t really affect me, so I was okay with it. I was so naïve.

I had intravenous steroids and was back in my regular life routine in a few days. Not a big deal.

Jarrod (my wonderful husband) and I dated in college, and he knew that I might have MS. We graduated from college and got engaged, and he started medical school and I started teaching first grade. We got married and lived in Augusta, GA. We had no idea, but such fun and EASY times! Jarrod and I would meet at the gym after work (it was across from our apartment) and then run home. We were very involved in our church. I was the children’s assistant at our church and told the Bible stories, and planned a lot of the curriculum. It was fun, and I loved it!

In 2006, we had our first “trial” where our trust and dependence on God was put to the test. Jarrod and I were set to move to Cleveland, OH, and begin his residency at the Cleveland Clinic. I was very excited about snow. (I’m a southerner and had NO idea!) The Air Force paid for my husband’s medical school, and they needed his time first, so we stayed in Georgia for a year. I questioned God A LOT during that time. My husband is such a hard worker! I wondered, how could a good God hold him back from continuing his dreams? Now I look back and see God’s plan unfolding all along. I had 20 weeks of a healthy pregnancy in Georgia, and we got to  celebrate with my family and friends. That extra year for my hubby and me was a good year for our marriage, our jobs, and especially for our relationship and dependence on God.

We moved to Cleveland, OH, at the end of June 2007. My husband kept his residency position at a great hospital. I was 22 weeks pregnant, and on July 3, 2007, our lives changed forever.

My left side (mostly my leg) started to give out, and I went to my new obstetrician that day. I could tell from his conversation (that he didnt think I could hear) with the other docs that it was bad. My in-laws,  who live in Ohio, were wonderful and took me to the hospital. They confirmed I had had a BIG MS relapse, so therapy started and I worked on strengthening my left leg again. I ended up with a limp on my left side and a healthy baby boy. The MS specialist told my husband and me that it was very rare for a relapse to happen in pregnancy, and usually people with MS had children and were healthy. Around Grayson’s birthday I started getting antsy for more children, and so my husband and I tried again and, surprise! We found out at seven weeks that we were having twins. Surprised is not even adequate enough to describe our reactions. Twins? My body didn’t handle having one baby well. How would i handle two? Was God sure? I delivered two healthy babies on August 25, 2010–a precious boy and girl.  However, my body did not do well. My left side started to weaken and did not recover. I went from walking with a limp to a cane, then a walker, and now I’m mostly in a wheelchair. I ride an electric scooter around the block while my kids ride their bikes. I grocery shop early every Saturday morning so my husband can watch the kids, and it won’t be so busy to get through the store with an electric scooter. I’m not an organized person, BUT by necessity I’ve become one. I have several appointments each week–doctor appointments, therapies, Bible study–and our children are seven and four, so they have several things each week, too. Every day takes SO MUCH planning and dependence on other people. It’s HARD.

Our lives are SO different than we ever would’ve imagined! However, my family has learned more about the faithfulness and love of God than we ever would have imagined!

One of my absolute heroes in the faith is Joni Earkeson Tada, and I find a lot of encouragement in her writings. This quote was from her very first book after an accident left her a paraplegic: “There are two joys. One is having God answer all your prayers, the other is not receiving the answer to all your prayers. I believe this is because I have found that God knows my needs infinitely better than I know them. And He is utterly dependable no matter which direction our circumstances take us.”

To those words from one of my heroes, I can only add, ditto. Glory to God!

Thursday Stories

This week’s story is from a very brave mom, Monet. She always has a smile on her face and laughter seems to be apart of who is as a person. Her abundant joy surely flows from the Lord and from living the life He had called her to. I hope you are inspired to obedience through her story!

Stories from San Antonio
I’ll start with a confession: I’m not ready to share all my brave stories. Some of my stories, like some of my thoughts and questions, require a cup of coffee, a quiet space, and a lot of trust in the listener.

I want to start this way because I believe it’s important to recognize that no matter how much we observe and presume and judge each other, we don’t know the whole story. Most likely the most vital piece is hidden from us. Most people would probably make incorrect assumptions about me simply based on my appearance or spending small amounts of time with me. We are complicated, intricate beings that need a lot more grace than we get from each other, let alone ourselves.
But sharing and truly listening to another’s story is the antidote to divisive judgement and feeling solitary in our struggles, so even though parts of my life I don’t disclose quickly, if God brings someone into my life that needs my vulnerability, I’m willing. And today I willingly share one of my stories with anyone who wants to hear it.

It took me a while to pick which one. My “bravery” can be divided into categories. Do I share my stupid brave? I lived in a half-finished home with no hot water or kitchen for the last two months of my first pregnancy and then my baby arrived a month early. And pretty much the next few crazy, city-living years after that.
Possibly my reactionary brave? My early experiences that led to significant childhood obsessive-compulsive disorder and how I overcame it, or how I got through my last pregnancy with an unexpected medical condition that meant many unknowns and frightening doctor appointments.
Or maybe my every-day brave? Sending one of my kids back to school after a classroom bout with lice.
Do I tell you about my brave love? The times I’ve forgiven and worked on relationships despite reoccurring pain and fear.

Many of my stories truly are reactionary. Something happened and I responded; I didn’t choose to take a risk, I had to. But one the hardest and bravest (for me) things that I have done is to respond to a call I believed came directly from God, even though it didn’t seem like the logical thing to do. It took me a LONG time to obey.

When my first daughter was born, I was working as a special education teacher at an elementary school. I was twenty-five and had no idea how much being a mother would change my life. I had been working since I was fifteen years old and I was passionate about what I did; of course I would return to work. I had four months of maternity leave and on-site daycare. Perfect! Besides, my husband was also an educator and his salary alone, in an expensive city, would not pay our bills, even if we considerably trimmed them down.

After a few weeks with my precious baby girl, I began to dread going back. I loved every minute of being home. Even the hard days of endless walking and crying, when the minutes dragged on and on, I didn’t want to be anywhere else. I felt so pulled to quit my job and stay home, but it was so impractical, so irresponsible. I went back to work and even though I saw great things happening in my job, I spent the next two years mildly depressed, sleep-deprived, and feeling like I was missing out on the plan for my life. But I convinced myself, over and over, even after the birth of my next baby, my son, that it was my plan, my desire to stay home, not God’s call to me.

One of the hardest things about that job, besides being away from my children, was navigating difficult situations with other adults. I am absolutely an introvert, even though a social one, and the countless hours I spent in meetings with angry or emotional adults wore on me. So in addition to feeling like I needed to provide financially, I also felt quitting would be like saying to God, “I can’t depend on You enough to not let this get to me.”

It wasn’t until my daughter turned five and my son two, after a long season of struggle, that I finally was able to trust God and obey. One other factor in my decision to quit came after an evening of ceaseless prayer. I was telling God how tired I was, how hard everything felt, and the response that seemed to come from the Spirit was, “I made you this way; I gave you your tenderness and sensitivity. I created you introverted. Have you considered the possibility that you are choosing to do things that are hard for you; that it’s not Me making you?” I had not considered that. Once I did, once I believed the brave thing might be letting go of working so hard and being so responsible and trying to be “strong” in the Lord, I heard things more clearly.

I resigned in 2008, in the middle of the recession, when people I knew were praying for work. In fact, a week after I turned in my resignation letter, I ended up praying with a woman at church who had applied for dozens of teaching positions and hadn’t heard back from one school. As I prayed for her, I felt sick. What if I had done the wrong thing? Would I be able to get another job if we needed it? For the last two months of school I slept poorly, lost weight, and worried. We had saved half my salary for the entire year to pad my husband’s salary for two years. After that we didn’t have a plan. Hopefully our car wouldn’t die or taxes go up or any of the hundred possibilities we couldn’t afford.

Seldom in my life have I felt sure that I was doing exactly what I was called to. I am a Type-A, over-analyzer and I just don’t work that way. But that year was one of those rare, beautiful times. At the end of it, still during the recession, my husband was offered a terrific job in another city and I was pregnant with our third child, looking forward to another year home as a full-time mom. I wondered if God would have done this five years before if I had quit right away. I didn’t spend too much time asking or regretting; I was just grateful.

I’m feeling called back to full-time work and it’s not any easier to decide now than it was four years ago when I quit. My youngest is still at home and it’s hard to believe returning to work before she starts elementary school is the right decision, but I keep feeling a nudge from something- I’m guessing the Holy Spirit. And I’m venturing out because I’ve learned the bravest thing I do is to obey against my reason, when the Holy Spirit won’t leave me alone; to take a chance, trusting that even if it’s the wrong choice, God can get me back where He wants me.

The Holiday

Sorry about my lack of consistent posting, but I have a really good excuse: December.

This holiday season has been one of my busiest yet. We had plans every weekend starting on Thanksgiving and going until New Year’s Day. We visited this family and that family, and those friends and these friends. On top of all that, we are purchasing a new (to us) home. So in between get togethers and shindigs, hubs and I were house hunting—we are currently in the inspection phase of our dream home! Woohoo! And in between shindigs and house hunting, I’ve been packing up just about everything in our apartment. With a toddler. Yup. Busy.

Now that the chaos is settling down, Christmas is over, nothing left to plan aside from moving, I thought I’d sit down and reflect on this season that passed oh so quickly. Did I focus on the birth of Jesus or on traveling and shopping? Did my actions this season reflect the humility I feel when I think about the Creator of heaven and earth coming to Earth as a tiny baby to save me? If others had observed me this December, was it obvious that I was celebrating CHRISTmas, or could I have just as easily been celebrating Kwanzaa, Hanukkah, or Festivus?

I would like to think that it was obvious that I was celebrating Jesus’ birth. The best way to tell where your heart is, though, is to look at your time and your money. My time was spent packing up the apartment, eating delicious things, wrapping presents, driving to Houston/East Texas/Austin, eating other delicious things, playing games that got us all laughing, chewing the fat with family and friends, eating even more delicious things, playing with kids, and driving back home. My money was spent on food and gas and presents and food (are you seeing a pattern?) and decorations. All good things. All things that could glorify God. All things that non-Christians spend their time and money on also. So, what set me apart? Anything? Anything at all?

Christmas Eve was spent at my dad’s house, just like last year and the year before and most years before that. We played and giggled all day long. Evening finally arrived. We had dinner together, and the kids put together some awesome wooden puzzles my dad made for them. The kids were itching to open presents, but Grandad (a.k.a. my daddy) said there was something we had to do first. We all sat down in the living room, and he told us about creation praising the Lord. Then we read the Animal’s Christmas Eve and sang happy birthday to Jesus as if we were animals praising God—I make a pretty good kitty cat, by the way. We opened presents then made a birthday cookie cake for Jesus. We ended the evening by sharing our prayer needs with each other.

That’s what sets us apart. Yes, we did lots of things that non-Christians do, too, in December because it’s tradition and it’s fun. But we also paused and refocused on Jesus. And then did it again and again so we didn’t forget. We are set apart.

I can say with some confidence that it was obvious I celebrated Christmas instead of Festivus, and not simply because I said “Merry Christmas” in response to “Happy Holidays,” but because I paused, because my family paused, to remind ourselves of the true reason for the season: Jesus coming to Earth as a baby so that He would grow up to live a blameless life, take the punishment for my sin by dying on the cross, and conquer death so that I might live.

Even though Christmas is over and it’s a new year, Merry Christmas, ya’ll.

Ends of the earth, here I come!

P.S. Below are a few of the awesome conversations I had with my niece and nephew who are adorable. I wish I had a tape recorder listening to them all day long.

Asher: do you know who won between God and Pharaoh?
Me: tell me who won
Asher: God won of course
Zoee: God always wins His battles.
———————–
Grandma: what does the sun do when it shines?
Zoee: it praises Jesus!

Thursday Stories

Merry Christmas! Today is Thursday which means it’s story time! Today’s writer is Ora Linville. This lady is one of the bravest people I know. I hope you are as encouraged by her story as I am!

Stories from San Antonio

Bravery. This is a word that I have heard so much in the past six months. Before that, it was a word that I never really thought much about. Thanks to the MOPS, International theme for 2014-2015, “Be You, Bravely,” I have had a lot of time to consider the topic of bravery.

Those of you who know and see me on a regular basis know that I have blue hair. Seriously. I decided to put the blue streaks in in early September. I have received a lot of comments from friends and strangers alike. Some of the comments are something like, “wow!! that’s so brave!” I think I have even said, “Oh, you know, just ‘Being me, Bravely!'” However, if I’m being honest, I don’t really think that was an act of bravery for me. Gutsy, maybe, but not really brave. Perhaps letting my gray hair come in without constantly covering it up would be more brave. But, seriously, I’m only 35 – I have plenty of time to bravely embrace my gray hair!

Some would define bravery as an absence of fear. When we think of bravery, we often think of the super heroes that we grew up watching. Not only do I think this is a wrong idea of what bravery is, I think it is dangerous. The truth is that we all face fear – the types and levels of fear are different for each of us, but it is something we all deal with in this life. Fear is often a good thing, and not usually something that we need to rid ourselves of in order to be brave.

As I have been thinking more about what bravery means for me, I’m coming to the conclusion that bravery can be seen in graciously living the life God has entrusted to me regardless of whether or not it has turned out the way I had envisioned it.

As all girls do, I spent much of my childhood dreaming of what my adult life would look like: A big house that cleaned itself (those would be invented by the time I was an adult, I was sure of it), a gorgeous husband who practically worshiped me, and two perfectly behaved children who never got dirty. No financial issues, no pain, no fears. In my mind, life was going to be perfect. I won’t say that I went into marriage with the same delusions of perfection, but I did have certain expectations as I buttoned up the white dress and slipped into my beaded white shoes. I was about to walk down the aisle and commit myself to one man for the rest of my life. We would exchange vows with the promise to love, honor and cherish each other until death do us part.

Little did I realize that my soon-to-be husband had expectations of what I would be as his wife, expectations that he did not share with me until after we started settling in to life together. I moved from Texas to North Carolina right after the wedding – away from my family, my friends, my church, and really my whole life. I didn’t question it. I was a wife, and this is what a wife does for her husband. As I settled in, I noticed some little things here and there that seemed odd – he did not like me having friends outside his sphere of influence, he would not let me join Bible Study Fellowship or any other study that wasn’t done at his church, he expected me to call his mother “Mom” because “she’s your mom now.” I also noticed that any time I brought up a theological concern, he would halt conversation with, “I’m your husband and the head of this house, so this is what we will believe.” This was in stark contrast to the many theological discussions we had before marriage. He went from my sweet, caring fiance to a hard and calloused husband almost overnight. Over the course of a few short months, I learned to not open my mouth and to just internalize every hateful thing that was said about me, my faith, or my family back in Texas.

About one year into our marriage, we traveled back to Texas to visit family. My family and friends did not recognize the person I had become. Before marriage, I was happy – I smiled, I laughed, and I had a sparkle in my eye. The woman that came back to visit was extremely quiet, looked down constantly, made an innocent joke and then quickly apologized to her husband for making it, and had little life in her at all. I will forever be thankful to my family and dear friends who pulled me aside, shared their concerns with me, and asked me what was really going on. They helped me see that I was being broken down through the hateful words and unreasonable restrictions.

I went back to North Carolina with many people praying for me. . I prayed that God would soften the heart of my husband. I truly believed that God’s will would include the healing of my broken marriage. I knew that I didn’t go into the marriage lightly. I was in this for life. Things didn’t get easier. Having had my eyes opened to the emotional and spiritual abuse that I was dealing with, I was able to resist the arrows of hate that were constantly launched at me. This resistance was met with more anger from my husband and his family. On June 4th, 2007, my husband came home from work particularly angry. He ate his dinner in silence and then started letting me know all the ways I had disappointed him that day. I remember standing up and telling him that I would not take the abuse any longer. He then started throwing anything he could get his hands on. Knowing that physical abuse would likely follow if I remained in the house, I packed a few things I would need overnight and walked out.

I. Walked. Out. This wasn’t what I wanted. This wasn’t what I had prayed for. This wasn’t how my life was suppose to go. I didn’t know what was going to happen next. However, I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was the right thing to do, and I stand behind that decision to this day. By March 2008, I was divorced. Divorced! As a young girl and even a newly-wed, I never could have imagined myself divorced.

I was scared out of my mind and I still did the brave thing when I walked out. God didn’t plan for me to stay married to my first husband – God had much bigger plans for me. I am so thankful that God’s ways are not always our ways! If things had gone my way, I would not be married to Michael today and I would not have my two precious children. I wish I could tell you that I have this brave thing all figured out and if you do x, y, and z, you’ll master it too. I still struggle with trust and bravery on a daily basis. Things rarely go the way I expect them to. Being brave is a process and the biggest step I can take is to give God the reigns every day and let Him drive. Maybe, just maybe I’m on my way to accepting my gray hair after all.

Thursday Stories

Hello all! It’s time for Thursday Stories again! We missed last week but the next couple of months are being prepped as you read this! Today’s brave story made a couple of tears leak out of my eyes. It is still very painful to recall my recent miscarriages. Thank you, Christy for sharing bravely! You can read her blog at butterbeesandbumbleflies.com

Stories from San Antonio

Being brave in Christ isn’t the easiest task I’ve ever been faced with. But what I have learned through being brave in Christ is that speaking (and writing) what I’m going through is incredibly healing. And that it brings life to those around me who may not have realized something vitally important – we are not alone. No man (or woman!) is an island. We CAN be found. God IS for us. And if He is for us, WHO can be against us?

 

Aly has taught me more about speaking up and sharing than she probably knows. Because just a couple of short months after I had Grayson, she had her first, and then second miscarriages. Though she carried each for a different amount of time than I carried our two angels, we have that pain in common.

 

Miscarriage is NOT something people speak boldly and bravely about. Women don’t typically come out and say, “hi, my name is Christy, I have had four pregnancies and two of my children are in Heaven.” No, miscarriage is something you don’t usually hear about until you go through it, and share with close friends. And then you start finding out how many people have been there before.

 

I really struggled emotionally. I leaned HEAVILY on my Bible study group, and on God. I questioned Him. I screamed at Him – both inside and out. I raved like a lunatic. And then, I learned to hope again. And then He took my third baby. I questioned Him. I screamed at Him – both inside and out. I raved like a lunatic – HOW ON EARTH could he take TWO babies away from me? Wasn’t it surely part of His plan to give us more than one earthly child? Hadn’t HE been the one to place this desire for multiple children in our hearts? WHY was He taking them away?

 

And then, I finally dared to hope again. We began to live our lives. And one day I very timidly took a test. And then we saw the flashing light of a beating heart on the monitor. And then we made it to 12 weeks. And then to 16. And it was a boy!! And then we made it the agonizingly long wait to 36 and he was kicking and growing and moving like a crazy man. We saw that all of his organs were perfect, and we breathed a sigh of relief. And then he arrived. Now, he’s six months old. It’s been a year and a month since our second baby would have been born. It’s been almost eleven months since our third baby would have been born.

 

And God has given me perspective. He has told me that He has great plans for Grayson’s life. THIS is the child we were meant to have on Earth. And THOSE are the children we lost for a purpose. Their short little microscopic lives HAVE PURPOSE. And meaning. They are not meant to be hidden away in the confines of a Mother and Father’s hearts. No, they are meant to be shared. I am meant to speak bravely and boldly. I’m supposed to tell them about my babies, and to give them the strength to be bold and share about theirs.

 

My grandmother lost three babies before she had my mom. But she didn’t give up. And I’m so very glad. Because if she had let one or two, or even all three miscarriages scare her away from trying desperately to have another healthy child, my mom, and subsequently me, and my children, would never have been born. Miscarriage is tough. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever been through in my life – twice. But it is NOT the end. And I’m so very glad every time I snuggle of my precious little boy, that we didn’t give up.

 

It’s my job to be a light and an encouragement to others. Miscarriage is NOT easy. The scars on a mother’s heart NEVER go away. But time can heal the pain, and provide perspective. I pray I’m always brave enough and bold enough to help others see His love – even through the tears that fall.

 

God, make me brave. Give me the words. And help me to always use them for Your Glory, and to encourage others.

The Phone

My daughter accidentally dropped my phone in HEB on Thursday. And when I say “accidentally dropped,” what I mean is, “threw it down the aisle because she was tired of playing with it.” Yeah. Life with a toddler.

This was not the first accidental drop my phone has taken. When we first got these phones two years ago, I dropped my phone from my knee to the concrete while sitting outside, and it cracked the screen. My Otterbox arrived in the mail the next day. Then, about a week later, I was showing off my awesome new Otterbox and dropped my phone, and there went another crack off of the original one. These two cracks were all I had for a long time. Then one fateful day, my little baby became a toddler. She would play with my phone and then carefully lay it on the table when finished. When I say “carefully lay it on the table,” what I mean is, “throw it onto the ground with as much force as a 16 month old can muster.” Yeah. Toddlers.

Well, after my two cracks and a few months of toddlerdom, my phone finally bit the dust in the school supply aisle of my local HEB. The screen turned all sorts of beautiful colors, and the ringtone was a delightful out-of-tune version of what it used to be. Needless to say, the touch screen no longer worked, and by lunch time, the beautiful colors were just black and the phone was ready for the dump. Since it was time for an upgrade anyway (It was time for an upgrade last month but we were debating whether to stay with our current carrier or switch. #firstworldproblems), we decided to go ahead and get a new one instead of doing the insurance thing.

Now I have to wait FOUR DAYS for my new phone to arrive in the mail. FOUR DAYS! Can you believe that? Four days without Facebook, Instagram, and Gmail in the palm of my hand. Four days of not listening to Adventures in Odyssey through the tape thingamajig in my car. Four days of not being able to text or make a phone call or play Angry Birds! How would I drive anywhere without GPS? How would I let the world know how awesome my sandwich was at lunch? How would I capture adorable moments of my daughter playing in a mere 10,000 photos?

In the midst of all my frustration and impatience, I recalled some unease my missions pastor had about my trip to Madagascar. He was pretty concerned with how I would transition from the one of the richest countries in the world to one of the poorest, especially since I’ve never been outside the US. I confidently informed him that although I’m not accustomed to things like outhouses and public wells and things of the sort, I would certainly find the strength within me to deal with these sorts of things. Of course I’d be able to adjust, even if it was a little bit difficult. It’s not like I’m one of those spoiled American brats who buys new clothes just because, or has multiple cars, or goes out to eat whenever the mood strikes, or is dependent on a phone for daily tasks.

Oh, wait.

Upon realizing that I was most certainly a spoiled American brat, I decided to turn to Scripture for help. The Bible says a lot about wealth. Basically, the love of money is the root of all evil. But not all Scripture says that money is a terrible, terrible thing, which surprised me. In fact, Solomon talks about wealth very fondly in Ecclesiastes. And Paul is just as content with prosperity as he is with being poor.

Ecclesiastes 7

¹¹ Wisdom along with an inheritance is good
And an advantage to those who see the sun.
¹² For wisdom is protection just as money is protection,
But the advantage of knowledge is that wisdom preserves the lives of its possessors.
¹³ Consider the work of God,
For who is able to straighten what He has bent?
¹⁴ In the day of prosperity be happy,
But in the day of adversity consider—
God has made the one as well as the other
So that man will not discover anything that will be after him.

Solomon is the richest, wisest guy ever and he says that money and wisdom are both very good things. He calls them both protection, which interestingly enough, is the Hebrew word tsel which means “shadow, shade.” The same word was used 53 times in the Old Testament. Sometimes, it meant literally the shade of a tree or rooftop like in Jonah. The tree that the Lord provided and then took away shaded Jonah as he sat outside Ninevah after the people turned from their wicked ways. Other times, the word meant something closer to refuge as in Psalm 57. David took refuge in the Lord, in the shadow of His wings. He was on the run from Saul, living in caves, and trusting in the Lord for protection.

In Ecclesiastes 7, Solomon is calling money a refuge. A place to sit and rest without the heat of the sun beating down. With money, I am comfortable. I can have a phone and buy clothes when I feel like it and go out to eat when the mood strikes. Money protects me from starvation and from weather. It protects me from discomfort or even sickness. Money is most certainly a protection.

Wisdom is also called protection but there’s a major difference between the two. Wisdom protects and preserves the lives of its possessors where money only protects. Wisdom offes security beyond basic needs of survival like food and shelter. Wisdom revives and restores. Wisdom refreshes.

Solomon explains that God made prosperity as well as adversity in order to show man that there is nothing that will be after him. Money is good but it’s just money. Wisdom is good but adversity still visits the wise. And no one can change that. God allows for both for His glory. Can anyone undo what God has done? Can anyone alter what God has set in motion? No, not one! So whether I’m in America with a phone and other wonderful modern conveniences or in Madagascar without any of those things, God has made them both and it is possible to be content in both. My contentment should not be from conveniences but rather from the Lord. Check out Paul’s words to the church at Philippi.

Philippians 4

¹⁰ But I rejoiced in the Lord greatly, that now at last you have revived your concern for me; indeed, you were concerned before, but you lacked opportunity. ¹¹ Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. ¹² I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. ¹³ I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. 

Living humbly and living in prosperity is no different when my strength comes from the Lord. So, I will be without a phone for four days. Oh well. I will learn to be content. I suppose traveling to Madagascar will probably be a rougher transition than I originally imagined, but the Lord created the situation in the United States just as He created the situation in Madagascar.

Ends of the earth, here I come!

Thursday Stories

Hello all! I hope you’ve enjoyed our Thursday stories. I know I have. This is our last one from Madagascar for a while but I hope to have more soon. If you have a story about being you bravely, let me know! I’d love to share your story!

Stories from Madagascar

Tatiana:

I joined the MOPS group 2 months ago. I am encouraged with the iniquity of each feather of the “be you bravely” theme-kit, (arrived and opened at the first time with all the members) looking at the different color, yellow, black, blue. I stop comparing and competiting with others. It is very difficult not to looking around me, and seeing other’s life, but God has His plan for me.

Pregnant of 7 months, with 2 children abandoned, single mom, I am not alone. I am encouraged, every members care of me, taking my baby 15 months who don’t walk yet, I am pregnant of 8 months, I have to decide to fly away my husband because he used to bit me because I cannot work and earn money anymore. Now, in Jesus I find hope, still depressed, I hope in Him.