New Year...New Season

It’s about time for another story...I’m officially 24 weeks pregnant today with this sweet Isaac boy, so I think I will share his story. It’s one that has been almost four years in the making, so it promises many great things. 

It all starts on January 13, 2015-the day my Charis Rose was born. She was my fastest delivery, at a short nine hours, but what many don’t know is that her cord was prolapsed-tight-around her neck-to the point that, when she was born, she was a deep purple, and unresponsive. She barely touched my skin before she was whisked over to the cart, where so many nurses worked swiftly and quietly with “the bag” to get her breathing. After the longest minutes of my life, I heard excited voices as she began to stir and breathe on her own. It is a day I’ll never forget. And I’m so thankful for every person who helped my girl that day. I knew God’s plan was for good, and I had a strange peace, but it was still scary to trust that the gift you’d been given was truly ok, and she really just needed a minute. 

After the stress was over and Patrick was again allowed to take pictures, the nurses began to clear out, and Charis rested on the warming table, he stood studying her for a moment, and said, “I’ll give you one more if you want.”  At that present moment, still in Labor and Delivery, I was not even ready to consider possibly going through this heart-wrenching risk again. But I didn’t say no. Later, he shared the source of his words: the Holy Spirit had told him that we could have another child IF we wanted to. Now, that’s a heavy burden to carry-that you have the freedom to choose either way, whether to create another person or not. Both options have eternal implications. But, my God wasn’t through yet...

Time marched on, and when Charis was about a year old, Elijah, then seven, came to me one day, speaking with great confidence. He said, “Mommy, you’re gonna have another baby, and it’s gonna be a boy. And when you do, I want to name him Isaac, because Isaac means laughter, and I want a brother who can make me laugh.”  And I knew. I knew those weren’t just “I want a little brother” requests. I knew God was weaving a new thread into this complex tapestry of our lives. But, at that moment, I had two little girls in diapers or pull ups, and was definitely not ready to receive that word. So, I tucked it away. 

In the meantime, I continued to struggle with my health, trying desperately to find time to take care of a back and shoulder that were collapsing under the weight of so many little people who needed so many different things. My shoulder had literally sagged a good two inches lower than its partner from the weight of carrying babies and bags, and quite honestly, burdens that weren’t mine to bear, and I was in constant pain. Pain that disrupted thoughts and caused me to lash out in anger to those who didn’t deserve it. It truly changed me, until I began to be obedient to God’s plan for ME, which was more than just existing for everyone to drain me empty. I was made for more than this. So, I began to make time to exercise, specifically working those painful parts. I started getting massages to help me heal, against every instinct that told me that I was being selfish, and needed to be available to my family. The truth was that my existence was hollow at best, because I was trying to give what I didn’t have to others. So, I protected those times, and I continue to do so today. I can’t pour from an empty cup. 

I began to see improvement in my quality of life, and was able to start willingly giving again, as the cup began to fill and body began to heal. And spring came. I found myself traveling to Mexico with my husband to help him reclaim his life. And we both came home different. He began to shrink, and the tiny seed of hope in my heart began to grow again. We again revisited that conversation of having another child. We were both really excited with where our kids were. No one was in diapers. We were almost done with that weird toddler phase, where little people don’t like to listen and have irrational meltdowns. It was so...enjoyable. 

And yet, as I prayed, the word the Lord gave me was, “Stretch out your tent pegs.”  Now, in scripture, this refers to adding children to a family, and I was still in the camp of being very happy with our family the way it was. But, the more I prayed, the more I felt the gentle push of the Holy Spirit to trust, to leap, and to rely on Him. 

With so many uncertainties, we decided to have this child-this promise- wrapped and given without delay or difficulty.  I still wrestled with the original word, that we could have another child if we wanted, so I prayed. The Lord showed me that He knew what the outcome would be all along, but when He knows He can trust us to seek His heart for our lives, He gives us choices. He truly knows us better than we know ourselves. And He trusts us. Why do I struggle so hard to trust Him when I can only see those little glimpses of the plan He has?

This pregnancy has been one of my easiest so far. I asked the Lord to make my body do the things it was supposed to do when I embarked on this journey, and He has been faithful to answer. During my last two pregnancies, I had to take progesterone supplements because I wasn’t making enough, and it truly sapped my energy and made me even more nauseated during the first trimester.  I was done with being unable to be my best self, and the Lord heard my heart. My body made more than enough progesterone on its own to see me through the first trimester. The journey hasn’t been perfect, but it has been pure joy. I’m confident that this child is meant to be a joy to all his life touches. And I’m watching God weave his story into ours every day. 

Milestones

It’s been a few weeks since I’ve written. Life has been so busy in preparation for Christmas that ALOT of things had to be set aside for a season. So, now, I’m picking things back up, and I’m making a moment to reflect on all of the good things happening. 

I’ve felt in the past few months that our whole house has been in transition, growing in one way or another. My children are doing what they are supposed to do, and growing like weeds, so their closets are in need of a good purging. My husband is shrinking and out growing everything in his closet, and I’m expanding and outgrowing all of my regular clothes, needing to unpack and wash and put away all my maternity clothes. So, there have been piles all over for the past few weeks-piles of maternity clothes I haven’t had time to put away after washing, piles of smaller clothes for my hubby that he can’t quite wear yet, and closets that scream at me to do something to make all of life run a little smoother. 

I’m beyond blessed that these are the problems we have: maternity clothes that were stored simply need to be brought back out and put in rotation, clothes given for Christmas need to just be hung up and small things taken away for kiddos, and Patrick’s clothes need to be gone through. The next size is just a rack away, waiting to be moved up into regular rotation. 

Since Christmas, this has been how the bulk of my time has been spent. I’m happy to say that the new clothes have made their way into the children’s closets, though they still could use some purging, my maternity clothes are hung and ready and regular clothes have been put away for another day. And yesterday, I started work on Patrick’s closet. 

Last night, I started pulling out the large amount of 6x shirts that he’s worn for the past 4 years. As I folded each one to sort into boxes, I found a great sense of pride welling up within me. His accomplishment seems so much more concrete as I take these sizes out for good. 

Let me be truly honest for a moment...this will be the first time in our marriage I’ve gotten rid of a size of my husband’s clothes. As the sizes changed over the years, I always just folded them up and put them in storage. I believed that, one day, he would return to those smaller sizes. So, after I  folded and put away all of the too-large shirts, I went to the garage and pulled out a massive box of our old things. While he panicked about the loss of his things that look ridiculously big on him, I pulled out some old favorites to wash. In that box, I found the khaki pants he wore to our wedding reception 14 years ago-and they will comfortably fit him now. He probably hasn’t worn those pants in a decade.  I’m blown away at God’s goodness!  

I think this season of great transition is such a ripe time to see God’s evident goodness and provision. I’m so thankful for His abundance, and that He affords me the opportunity to put some order to the wonderful change in this precious time. 

Waiting for victories

I realized a few days ago that it's been a month since I posted an update - which is crazy to me that the time is flying by so quickly since Patrick's surgery.  Life has definitely been busy, but there hasn't been a lack of good changes!  The month started off with weigh ins so close to dropping out of the 400s.  He was less than 5 pounds away from such a huge milestone.  I remember he told me one day, "I'll be in the three hundreds by the end of the week."  The week ended, and he still held about the same.  He was a little frustrated, because he'd been averaging about a pound a day loss until this point.  He started going to the gym around this time, so I encouraged him that the change in routine may have caused his body to start retaining some water again. 

He kept going to the gym, and the scale numbers didn't change much.  At one point, they even went up a few pounds.  He was getting pretty discouraged working hard to get to what seemed like such an elusive goal, but a huge milestone.  This continued for three weeks - the slight yo-yo- up a pound or two, back down, but still not breaking through to the three hundreds.  There just seemed to be a wall that he couldn't break past.  He kept persevering - working out, eating right, correct portions - and eventually the faithfulness paid off.  Two days after his birthday, he finally won the battle he'd been fighting for three long weeks.  He sent me a text that morning with a picture of the scale at 399.9!  He finally reached the elusive goal that he'd worked so hard for over such a long time!

After that day, the pounds began to melt away daily again, and as of today, he's officially down 100 pounds since surgery day.  Four months ago, on surgery day, he weighed 492 pounds.  Today, he is at 392.  We're all so excited about this newest milestone, and all of the hard work it represents for Patrick.  It represents life returned to him, and to all of us, as he adds more life to his days, as well as more days to his life! 

I'm so thankful for all the encouragement that he's received every step of this journey.  I'm grateful for each caring heart, kind word, and cheer from the stands that this journey has found for him in each friend and family member who continues to follow him in his journey toward victory.  Thank you all from the bottom of my heart!

Celebrate EVERY Victory

This...this right here is a day worth celebrating. Today I asked Patrick for the update on how much he’s lost in total since April 1. He did the math real quick, and replied, “108 pounds.”  So, I looked him dead in the face and said, “You’ve lost me!”  Now, grant you, I know I’m not of the largest stature, but I’m a grown person. He used to carry my equivalent everyday before this journey began. Mind blowing to me. I’ve been waiting for this day. I told him we were gonna take this picture when he reached this particular benchmark, and I can’t believe the day is here that we get to celebrate it. 

Truly, the more he loses of his “old self”, the more the pounds melt away, the more I see him finding the things he truly lost through the years as the pounds mounted. It stole so much, and daily, I see him reclaiming his life—our lives with him—and joy is added to us all as we walk with him. And man, do we celebrate every victory. So, don’t mind me as I brag shamelessly and cheer him on in his race. Feel free to continue joining me to encourage him as he crushes pounds and takes his life back! #losingpatrick

Don’t Become Weary

With the start of school and the crazy schedule that it mandates, it’s been so hard to find a few moments of quiet (when I’m not exhausted!) to update our journey. So, I guess it works out that I can’t sleep, as it gives me some time to think about all of the good happening in our family lately. 

With school starting back, it has made me acutely aware of how very limited I am in my self-proclaimed super power to be able to do everything. I am in the very humbling and necessary place of having to ask for help. I have to say that this year has been different in many ways thus far. When I ask, Patrick is pretty agreeable in helping out. I see him getting up to get things and taking care of things the kids need while I’m busy working on dinner. A few months ago, I would have been scrambling to try to get what my little person needed while trying desperately not to burn my sauce!  My heart is overwhelmed at times. It sounds so silly to say, but I’m seeing him with new eyes. Not being so quick to judge that he isn’t going to help when I ask, or default to doing everything myself (to my own undoing and bitterness), and finding myself completely inadequate to keep all the plates spinning. I see him taking care of errands, picking up things I need when I’m super short on time. He’s usually very supportive of me getting in exercise regularly, and takes care of the kids’ needs while I do what I need to take care of myself. Unfortunately, I learned the hard lesson over the last few years that if you take care of everyone but yourself, you eventually become unable to take care of anyone. It’s been a long journey to come to this understanding, but I’m so thankful that Patrick can help me practically in finding my way back out of that season. 

The last few months have been so much more than simply being physically able to help more, it has been a learning, for both of us, that often, the heart in which you do something makes so much difference to the person on the receiving end of your kindness. When his heart is to help without it feeling like a dreadful inconvenience to him, it truly speaks love to me. And the more he’s able to walk in this heart transformation, this loving in actions and attitude, the greater my appreciation and love grow daily. 

I’m seeing him do things and be things to our family that I’ve prayed and asked for, for years. Galatians 6:9 says it well, 

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.”  I love a good harvest!  I know years of bitterness I had to deal with turned me into a monster toward him at times, and I’m so thankful for grace and forgiveness, from a loving Heavenly Father and from the man He made to walk with me. But, there isn’t enough to say about the good that comes in harvest. And that’s where we stand now.  It’s truly a daily miracle unfolding before my eyes. 

If there is something you’ve been holding on for, I encourage you to persist, to pray, and release what you think it should look like. Our God is faithful and creative. Your answer may not look exactly as you think it should, but I can promise you this: it will be far better than you could ever dream it to be. 

Six Weeks - So Many Changes

Oh em geeee!  It's been over two weeks, you guys!  Life has been so busy!  In a short amount of time, we've had a birthday, and an epic party to celebrate it at a waterpark, a pastor's conference, VBS, lots of swimming, planted flowers, welcomed a dear friend (or two) to stay with us, as well as a mother-in-love simultaneously, and a bunch of other things, all while watching my dear husband melt away like an ice cream cone on a hot summer sidewalk! 

I have to go back a bit so I can chronicle for you all of the changes happening daily.  Patrick weighed in at 439.5 at the six week mark on Thursday; a post surgery weight loss of 52.5 pounds in that time.  There have been some incredible changes in the past two weeks since my last update.  He's had me put his wedding band away for safe keeping for awhile, until he reaches what will be his final, maintainable size.  It became so loose that it was in danger of falling off.  He still wears the brand of the ring creased into his finger.  14 years, which we celebrate on Tuesday, is a long time for the skin to remember, and it isn't quickly forgetting!  He, of course, wants to get a tattoo on his finger.  We shall see...

One of the most exciting things, to me, is included in the pictures today.  At the four week mark, he was so tired of taking the ground up blood pressure meds (they tasted pretty awful) that he asked me if he could please skip it one night.  The next day, without any meds taken in over 24 hours, he used my mom's blood pressure machine with an extra large cuff to check his blood pressure.  It was the lowest I've ever seen, with or without medication, for as long as I've known him!  As long as we've been together, he has needed medication to stay in a normal range with his blood pressure.  Even then, it was still a little high, but this...this was astounding!  I was told by the doctor and his staff at the hospital that within a month, he would no longer need blood pressure meds.  The timing was about right, but it left me no less incredulous that this was actually happening.  From the time we arrived at the hospital in Mexico, his BP had reached the highest I'd ever seen for him, and continued to be above even his normal.  And here we were, four weeks from surgery, and his blood pressure was in the normal range.  I'm beyond excited about his results so far!

He's been able to start wearing lots of shirts that he hasn't worn in a very long time.  It's so encouraging to see.  His energy levels seem to be increasing.  He doesn't seem to need the daily nap every day now, that was such a necessary part of his healing in those first weeks.  He is less frequently forgetting things or losing his train of thought as he did in the early days, as well. 

His struggle to stay hydrated is getting easier.  He's found some dissolvable electrolyte tablets that he puts in his water daily, and works hard to finish his large cup of water by day's end.  He's also added some sugar free popsicles to his daily regimen, that really helps with liquid intake.  I don't worry so much about him not getting enough liquid now, or the many complications that can arise from regularly not getting enough to drink.  He is finding his balance. 

One challenge that has arisen with feeling better is the simple remembering to be slow and intentional about eating.  He needs to adjust his bite size to less than half of what he's used to, and chew food until it's almost the consistency of a puree.  The better work he does of chewing, the easier the work of digesting is for his stomach.  He's still having trouble being mindful when he eats.  He's not eating too much, as he adjusts his portion size of food to the correct amount when he fixes his plate.  He's truly just eating too fast, and that makes him not feel very well for awhile after he eats.  He is being intentional about making adjustments to how he eats his portions, and I know he won't make this mistake much more.  This journey is a learning one, and there has to be grace for the learning.  I'm thankful he hasn't made himself physically sick.  He didn't feel well for awhile, but improved fairly quickly.

Yesterday, we were running errands at Sam's Club, and stopped to get the kids something to eat at their cafeteria.  We all sat down together at the fixed seat benches while the kids ate.  He looked at me, smiling, and said, "I was able to sit down, and the bench doesn't move."  This was huge!  He's always had trouble sitting at tables where the benches don't move, and he didn't have a bit of trouble sitting with us that day.  We were able to sit together, face to face, and talk for a few minutes while the kids had lunch.  What a precious moment, that wouldn't have been possible a few months ago.

Today, though...today came the moment that has me undone.  Before I tell you today's pinnacle, I have to give a little background info.  When we bought Patrick's truck (that he absolutely loves), the seatbelt was too small.  So, my one condition for buying the truck was that he had to be able to wear a seatbelt, so I purchased a seatbelt extender for him before he even brought the truck home.  He put it in the buckle and it has stayed there since he got the truck.  Now, with that piece of information, let's head back to today.  He went to my mom's with Zoe while I stayed home and let the baby finish out her nap.  We were finishing up dinner at home, and he FaceTimed me when he was about to be on the way home.  He held something up to me...it was his seatbelt extender...his seatbelt was securely buckled, without the need for the extender!  This...this reduced me to a speechless puddle of tears, standing at the island in the kitchen.  I took in deep breaths of God's goodness as I stood staring at the screen, tears rolling down my face.  This victory came on the heels of a somewhat personally draining few days for me.  It was a breath of fresh air to a heart that ached with the hurts of living in an incredibly human world, where rejection seeks to find you when no one else is looking for you.  Quick words without thought offer wounds to the quick of the heart, and offense stands ready to pounce and weigh me down.  It can make me tired to walk through these thick times where I have to constantly cast off offense and rejection, choosing life, trust, joy, and faith in God's goodness within the hearts of people.  But this--this victory right here--it was breath of life in my lungs.  It brought joyous refreshing to my soul.  He is a good, good Father, and His timing is impeccable.  Everyday His faithfulness abounds to us in immeasurable, heaping buckets of graceful goodness.  And.  I.  Am.  Undone.

Worry and Purses

So, my purse strap broke last night. I love this purse. It’s not old. But I have this problem of carrying a million things in my purse all the time. It weighs me down. It probably compounds the issues I already have with my shoulder. My whole life is in there. I carry things for my husband and kids constantly. I can never find what I need because there is so much junk in there. People who know me well, know if you need something, I’ll have it in my purse most of the time. If you’re a mom, you know my struggle. I don’t even know how half of the stuff in there even got there.

There was a moment last night that God showed me such a simple thing-an inconvenience really-can have Devine implications. For especially women, we have large hearts of compassion. We want to help people. We are nurturers, caretakers. It’s part of our calling, and it’s one way that God’s DNA is reflected through us. We display a facet of our Creator through our caring, nurturing predisposition.

God reminded me last night that the problem arises when the enemy lies to us and gets us to believe that we aren’t doing enough. He leads us into erroneous thinking that somehow we need to take on burdens that aren’t ours to bear to begin with. Just like my purse, we go through life picking up other people’s stuff and putting it in our “purse”, taking it upon ourselves, under the guise that we will “just pray for them” or “it’s the least we can do”. All the while, the enemy is filling our bag with hurts that aren’t ours, offense for ourselves and others, anger over another’s injustice, and slowly, he steals-our joy, our song, our life- from us. As the too full purse weighs me down and makes my shoulder hurt,making it difficult for me to do what I’m created to do, carrying heavy burdens takes our focus off of the most important things we are each uniquely called to do.

Do we still care for people? Of course. But we have to define healthy boundaries, especially where taking up offense and hurt are concerned. It’s our job to point loved ones in the direction of true Freedom, not try to be their savior. It’s our pride that places us here. The enemy appeals to our Wonder Woman complex that says we can do it all, but ultimately, we are finite beings who serve an infinite God. Our true strength comes when the proverbial purse strap breaks, and we leave the whole bag at the feet of Jesus-the One who came to bear all of our burdens-knowing full well that He can handle our load as well as the ones of eight billion other precious souls. 

In I Peter 5:7, it says “Cast your cares on him, because He cares for you.” The original language for the word “cast” there is the word ephirhippto, which means to “throw away like trash.” I think the thing that really struck me is that Christ wants us to disregard those things that are weighing down. If I throw something away, it’s because it no longer has a viable use in my life. On trash day, you don’t see many people running out to the curb to grab last week’s pizza box so they can carry it around with them all day. But I know I’m not the only one who does this: you prayerfully place something in the arms of Jesus, trusting him to take care of it, only to find yourself worrying about it later. As we worry, we have gone back to the Savior and ripped the situation out of His hands. Worry is believing that God’s Love ends. By worrying about and striving with our problems, we are telling our Lord that we don’t believe He can handle it—that, perhaps, His Love isn’t big enough to reach us in our situation. And there is NOTHING more contrary to the truth!

So, if you’ve stayed with me on my purse story this long, the most important tenet I believe I’m supposed to leave you with is the following: “That’s not my burden.” When you’re tempted to take up that which isn’t yours, speak truth to that lie. Remind yourself, as well as the enemy of your soul, that you aren’t the burden bearer, and it’s not your call to fix everybody. I have to say it to myself all the time, “This is not my burden.” It’s your job to be the light to help them find their way back to the path for those who may have gotten lost. 

Jesus promises us that His yoke is easy and His burden is light. So, if you’re feeling like it’s just too much to bear lately, it might just be time for you to lighten your load and let Him carry your broken purse for awhile.

So, my purse strap broke last night. I love this purse. It’s not old. But I have this problem of carrying a million things in my purse all the time. It weighs me down. It probably compounds the issues I already have with my shoulder. My whole life is in there. I carry things for my husband and kids constantly. I can never find what I need because there is so much junk in there. People who know me well, know if you need something, I’ll have it in my purse most of the time. If you’re a mom, you know my struggle. I don’t even know how half of the stuff in there even got there.

There was a moment last night that God showed me such a simple thing-an inconvenience really-can have Devine implications. For especially women, we have large hearts of compassion. We want to help people. We are nurturers, caretakers. It’s part of our calling, and it’s one way that God’s DNA is reflected through us. We display a facet of our Creator through our caring, nurturing predisposition.

God reminded me last night that the problem arises when the enemy lies to us and gets us to believe that we aren’t doing enough. He leads us into erroneous thinking that somehow we need to take on burdens that aren’t ours to bear to begin with. Just like my purse, we go through life picking up other people’s stuff and putting it in our “purse”, taking it upon ourselves, under the guise that we will “just pray for them” or “it’s the least we can do”. All the while, the enemy is filling our bag with hurts that aren’t ours, offense for ourselves and others, anger over another’s injustice, and slowly, he steals-our joy, our song, our life- from us. As the too full purse weighs me down and makes my shoulder hurt,making it difficult for me to do what I’m created to do, carrying heavy burdens takes our focus off of the most important things we are each uniquely called to do.

Do we still care for people? Of course. But we have to define healthy boundaries, especially where taking up offense and hurt are concerned. It’s our job to point loved ones in the direction of true Freedom, not try to be their savior. It’s our pride that places us here. The enemy appeals to our Wonder Woman complex that says we can do it all, but ultimately, we are finite beings who serve an infinite God. Our true strength comes when the proverbial purse strap breaks, and we leave the whole bag at the feet of Jesus-the One who came to bear all of our burdens-knowing full well that He can handle our load as well as the ones of eight billion other precious souls. 

In I Peter 5:7, it says “Cast your cares on him, because He cares for you.” The original language for the word “cast” there is the word ephirhippto, which means to “throw away like trash.” I think the thing that really struck me is that Christ wants us to disregard those things that are weighing down. If I throw something away, it’s because it no longer has a viable use in my life. On trash day, you don’t see many people running out to the curb to grab last week’s pizza box so they can carry it around with them all day. But I know I’m not the only one who does this: you prayerfully place something in the arms of Jesus, trusting him to take care of it, only to find yourself worrying about it later. As we worry, we have gone back to the Savior and ripped the situation out of His hands. Worry is believing that God’s Love ends. By worrying about and striving with our problems, we are telling our Lord that we don’t believe He can handle it—that, perhaps, His Love isn’t big enough to reach us in our situation. And there is NOTHING more contrary to the truth!

So, if you’ve stayed with me on my purse story this long, the most important tenet I believe I’m supposed to leave you with is the following: “That’s not my burden.” When you’re tempted to take up that which isn’t yours, speak truth to that lie. Remind yourself, as well as the enemy of your soul, that you aren’t the burden bearer, and it’s not your call to fix everybody. I have to say it to myself all the time, “This is not my burden.” It’s your job to be the light to help them find their way back to the path for those who may have gotten lost. 

Jesus promises us that His yoke is easy and His burden is light. So, if you’re feeling like it’s just too much to bear lately, it might just be time for you to lighten your load and let Him carry your broken purse for awhile.

x