Archive | my faith

every day with grief and gladness

This is what every morning looks like these days.  Lena begins to rustle around in her crib around 7:30 or so.  I slip out of bed, gather her up into my arms, and plop her into my pillows in my bed.  I grab a big stack of books from the basket underneath my bedside table and snuggle under the covers with her.  Then we read books and talk about how we slept and what we’re going to do today, until eventually she says, “Mmm!”

And I say, “Are you hungry?  Do you want some breakfast?”

And she says, “Mmm!  Mmmm!”

And then we change her diaper, put on clothes, I put on clothes, and we go downstairs, where she eats approximately 10 bowls of Raisin Bran (her favorite) and I sip half-caff coffee and munch on Grape Nuts and bananas (my favorite).

These are peaceful days here in my parents’ house, and I am so grateful for this chance to spend extended time with family.  I have found, though, that being here at home has meant that I have begun missing Julia all over again.  Every time I come upstairs, I see her smiling at me from her high school senior portrait, glowing with fresh young beauty.  Her picture is on the wall in the entry way, above the trunk on the landing, in the photo collages in the basement.  Even now as I sit in bed writing this I can look up and see through the door into her room.  We still have barely touched her room, and I’m fine with that for now.  It’s a good place to go and miss her, and cry a bit, and think about what you have lost and what will never be.

I had lunch today with my dear friend Kim.  I told her I feel angry about Julia’s death, which is an emotion I really haven’t felt until this visit.  I had a hard time expressing my anger to Kim because it was so wrapped up in trust in and need for God at the same time.  Kim suggested that perhaps I wasn’t angry at God, I was angry along with God.  Together, God and me, we are angry.  We are angry at the presence of death in this world, we are angry that this world isn’t fair and good, we are angry at the hole Julia has left in family and friends’ lives.  Something clicked for me when she expressed the idea of being angry along with God (an idea which, coincidentally, she got from our mutual friend Sarah, another grieving friend in this sad world).  Does it make sense to you?  I love, believe, and need God in the midst of this aching, bleeding, angry loss.

I catch myself thinking, “If only Booie would come home and make us all laugh again!  We’re so sad and serious these days!” and then I remember she can’t and never will.  But then I try also to remember that she is so very happy and that we have so much to be thankful for

And I get up and face another day.  And I am thankful that each morning in this house starts so sweetly, with baby snuggles and board books, with physical presence in the momentary absence.  Until Paradise.

14 :: in family, Julia, Lena, motherhood, my faith, Virginia

for shirkers and slackers

I’ve been wanting to address this topic for awhile: Bible study.  How do you prioritize it in your daily life?  This has always been a challenge for me.

When we were dating, Elliott introduced me to the Bible Reading Program for Shirkers and Slackers, created by a friend of his family.  Hmm… it sounded like it was right up my alley!  I checked out the program and found it was a simple PDF with check boxes (and I love those) next to different Bible passages.  The program was divided up into days of the week; each day you read between 2-5 chapters and, if you don’t shirk or slack, you can read through the whole Bible each year.  If you did shirk or slack one Tuesday, well… you can just check off the passages when you read them next Tuesday.

Elliott and I began studying the Bible together after we got married.  Although I would love to tell you the sun finds us sipping our coffee and reading our Bibles together each morning, a more accurate picture would be two sleepy people handing our Bible back and forth between us, reading a chapter each and struggling to stay awake before bed.  Sigh… always room for improvement! 

When we read and study together, one of us starts by praying aloud briefly, asking God to direct our thoughts and minds towards Him and His Word.  We then read together, usually trading off, but sometimes I knit (if my knitting requires no concentration/complicated steps) and Elliott reads.  Afterwards we discuss what we read, what stood out to us, and what our take-away points are.  Then one of us prays, taking their time with adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and supplication, and then sometimes we finish with the Lord’s Prayer.  Of course sometimes we take days off, sometimes we rush through, and sometimes we just don’t feel like discussing or praying.  But generally we do it: we study the Word and pray together, enforcing daily to ourselves that God and His Word are at the center of our lives, our marriage, our family.

What works for you?  Do you sing?  Do you memorize Scripture?  Do you like certain devotionals, Bible studies, books?  Do you study in the morning or at night?  We would love to hear your suggestions and ideas!

*image via here

3 :: in my faith

for shirkers and slackers

I’ve been wanting to address this topic for awhile: Bible study.  How do you prioritize it in your daily life?  This has always been a challenge for me.

When we were dating, Elliott introduced me to the Bible Reading Program for Shirkers and Slackers, created by a friend of his family.  Hmm… it sounded like it was right up my alley!  I checked out the program and found it was a simple PDF with check boxes (and I love those) next to different Bible passages.  The program was divided up into days of the week; each day you read between 2-5 chapters and, if you don’t shirk or slack, you can read through the whole Bible each year.  If you did shirk or slack one Tuesday, well… you can just check off the passages when you read them next Tuesday.

Elliott and I began studying the Bible together after we got married.  Although I would love to tell you the sun finds us sipping our coffee and reading our Bibles together each morning, a more accurate picture would be two sleepy people handing our Bible back and forth between us, reading a chapter each and struggling to stay awake before bed.  Sigh… always room for improvement! 

When we read and study together, one of us starts by praying aloud briefly, asking God to direct our thoughts and minds towards Him and His Word.  We then read together, usually trading off, but sometimes I knit (if my knitting requires no concentration/complicated steps) and Elliott reads.  Afterwards we discuss what we read, what stood out to us, and what our take-away points are.  Then one of us prays, taking their time with adoration, confession, thanksgiving, and supplication, and then sometimes we finish with the Lord’s Prayer.  Of course sometimes we take days off, sometimes we rush through, and sometimes we just don’t feel like discussing or praying.  But generally we do it: we study the Word and pray together, enforcing daily to ourselves that God and His Word are at the center of our lives, our marriage, our family.

What works for you?  Do you sing?  Do you memorize Scripture?  Do you like certain devotionals, Bible studies, books?  Do you study in the morning or at night?  We would love to hear your suggestions and ideas!

*image via here

3 :: in my faith

Becoming a Stay-at-Home Mom: taking your baby to the hospital

At Lena’s 9-month check-up a few weeks ago, Dr. Josh thought he heard a heart murmur in Lena’s chest.  Since this was the second time he’d heard it, it deserved closer examination.  Both Elliott and I felt our own hearts skip a beat as we listened to Dr. Josh describe the recommended next step: getting an echocardiogram, or ultrasound of her heart.

The tiny 17-bed hospital on base doesn’t have a pediatric cardiologist, so we would have to go into “the big city” of Catania, for the ultrasound.  Just as he’d promised, we got a phone call in about a week to tell us that a van would be leaving from the base hospital with an Italian translator sometime the following week.  We could get a ride in the van and the Italian translator would facilitate the forms, tests, and proceedings at the Italian hospital in town.

Yesterday was the day.  I met Elliott on base and we boarded the van with another anxious family.  It’s hard to describe your emotions at that point.  You know your baby looks totally normal and happy, but within, inside, in the unseen knit-together places, there might be something wrong.  There might be a defect that will cause her great suffering in the future, or cause a cardiac malfunction while sleeping in the night, or require surgery in the States.  If it turned out her condition was serious enough that the hospital on base could not take care of her, Lena and I would be required to move back to the U.S.  Elliott might be left behind.  It happens rarely, but when children on base develop serious conditions such as juvenile diabetes or when babies are born who are too premature for the base hospital, families are divided for lengths of time due to the need for more intensive medical care.  We weren’t going on a picnic that day.  We were definitely probably way too freaked out, but… well, you know what was going through our minds.

The hospital in Catania did not look like a hospital, and we were grateful for the calm presence of the Italian woman with us.  We walked into the quiet halls of the hospital and into the Pediatric Cardiology wing (cardiologia pediatrica).  Thankfully they had an incredible playroom, and Lena went to town with all the toys.  The other girls in the van with us fell in love with Lena and the three of them played happily for about an hour while we waited for our turn.

Finally it was our turn.  We walked into the echo room and took off Lena’s shirt.  At this point I expected her to begin crying, and I’d been imaging how I could lay down on the table myself with her on top of me, or could lay her across my lap and nurse her simultaneously.

However, incredibly we did not have to do any of those things, because Lena was a jewel.  She was fascinated by the doctor, fascinated by the dark room, and completely and utterly fascinated by the ultrasound screen.  (There are advantages to not having a TV… because your baby will lie in rapt attention whenever she sees one!)  As the doctor began to move the ultrasound wand over little Lena’s chest, I remembered my two ultrasounds when I was pregnant with Lena and I could see her little form for the first time inside me.  Now she was lying on the table for her own ultrasound.  Things change quickly.

The exam didn’t take long because Lena lay so still and curious.  Que buona questa bambina! the doctor exclaimed towards the end.  How good this baby is!  We were proud.

And then the doctor said she was finished and turned to us.  The translator tried to translate everything for us as the doctor spoke, but she didn’t have to.  The words for the valves, atria, ventricles, and so on are pretty much the same in Italian as in English, and as a nurse and a veterinarian speaking to a doctor, we already spoke the same language.  We understood that the doctor saw nothing abnormal.  We understood that every atrium, every ventricle, every valve was functioning normally.  We understood that what Dr Josh heard was probably just the muscles on the valves making a little noise; that’s called a functional murmur.  We understood that her muscles would grow with her heart and she would grow out of this.  We understood that the doctor thought we had a beautiful little daughter and nothing to worry about.

Such gratefulness washed over us as we held each other’s hands and held our daughter tight on our way back to the playroom.  We don’t, we cannot, take any moment of true good health for granted.  It can be snatched away in a moment.  We are not invincible.  We are weak and we are blessed with God’s mercy.

After the test Lena and I were all smiles.  Later we drove home, and Lena read her peek-a-boo book from her grandparents (one of her current favorites!).  She took a long nap and woke up ready to play some more.  For another day.  We are so thankful.

9 :: in Italy, Lena, motherhood, my faith, thoughts

Becoming a Stay-at-Home Mom: taking your baby to the hospital

At Lena’s 9-month check-up a few weeks ago, Dr. Josh thought he heard a heart murmur in Lena’s chest.  Since this was the second time he’d heard it, it deserved closer examination.  Both Elliott and I felt our own hearts skip a beat as we listened to Dr. Josh describe the recommended next step: getting an echocardiogram, or ultrasound of her heart.

The tiny 17-bed hospital on base doesn’t have a pediatric cardiologist, so we would have to go into “the big city” of Catania, for the ultrasound.  Just as he’d promised, we got a phone call in about a week to tell us that a van would be leaving from the base hospital with an Italian translator sometime the following week.  We could get a ride in the van and the Italian translator would facilitate the forms, tests, and proceedings at the Italian hospital in town.

Yesterday was the day.  I met Elliott on base and we boarded the van with another anxious family.  It’s hard to describe your emotions at that point.  You know your baby looks totally normal and happy, but within, inside, in the unseen knit-together places, there might be something wrong.  There might be a defect that will cause her great suffering in the future, or cause a cardiac malfunction while sleeping in the night, or require surgery in the States.  If it turned out her condition was serious enough that the hospital on base could not take care of her, Lena and I would be required to move back to the U.S.  Elliott might be left behind.  It happens rarely, but when children on base develop serious conditions such as juvenile diabetes or when babies are born who are too premature for the base hospital, families are divided for lengths of time due to the need for more intensive medical care.  We weren’t going on a picnic that day.  We were definitely probably way too freaked out, but… well, you know what was going through our minds.

The hospital in Catania did not look like a hospital, and we were grateful for the calm presence of the Italian woman with us.  We walked into the quiet halls of the hospital and into the Pediatric Cardiology wing (cardiologia pediatrica).  Thankfully they had an incredible playroom, and Lena went to town with all the toys.  The other girls in the van with us fell in love with Lena and the three of them played happily for about an hour while we waited for our turn.

Finally it was our turn.  We walked into the echo room and took off Lena’s shirt.  At this point I expected her to begin crying, and I’d been imaging how I could lay down on the table myself with her on top of me, or could lay her across my lap and nurse her simultaneously.

However, incredibly we did not have to do any of those things, because Lena was a jewel.  She was fascinated by the doctor, fascinated by the dark room, and completely and utterly fascinated by the ultrasound screen.  (There are advantages to not having a TV… because your baby will lie in rapt attention whenever she sees one!)  As the doctor began to move the ultrasound wand over little Lena’s chest, I remembered my two ultrasounds when I was pregnant with Lena and I could see her little form for the first time inside me.  Now she was lying on the table for her own ultrasound.  Things change quickly.

The exam didn’t take long because Lena lay so still and curious.  Que buona questa bambina! the doctor exclaimed towards the end.  How good this baby is!  We were proud.

And then the doctor said she was finished and turned to us.  The translator tried to translate everything for us as the doctor spoke, but she didn’t have to.  The words for the valves, atria, ventricles, and so on are pretty much the same in Italian as in English, and as a nurse and a veterinarian speaking to a doctor, we already spoke the same language.  We understood that the doctor saw nothing abnormal.  We understood that every atrium, every ventricle, every valve was functioning normally.  We understood that what Dr Josh heard was probably just the muscles on the valves making a little noise; that’s called a functional murmur.  We understood that her muscles would grow with her heart and she would grow out of this.  We understood that the doctor thought we had a beautiful little daughter and nothing to worry about.

Such gratefulness washed over us as we held each other’s hands and held our daughter tight on our way back to the playroom.  We don’t, we cannot, take any moment of true good health for granted.  It can be snatched away in a moment.  We are not invincible.  We are weak and we are blessed with God’s mercy.

After the test Lena and I were all smiles.  Later we drove home, and Lena read her peek-a-boo book from her grandparents (one of her current favorites!).  She took a long nap and woke up ready to play some more.  For another day.  We are so thankful.

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8 :: in Italy, Lena, motherhood, my faith, thoughts

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