story matters...

I shared part of our family's story in RUF tonight, as we've just begun studying the book of Romans together this semester.  Tonight focused on "story matters."

Here's what I shared...

**************************************

When I hear people throw around the phrase "God has a wonderful plan for your life," I honestly can't help but cringe a little inside. I do believe that God has purposes for everyone, and that He is masterfully writing a story in each one of us, but many times, I'm not sure I'd be so bold to call it a "wonderful" plan.

Because what about the dark chapters in our stories?  The chapters filled with tragedy?  How are these so "wonderful"?  What about the times when I feel God painfully stripping away at the things I desire, in order that my desires might line up with His?  What about the times when I made so many stupid mistakes and created addictions to soothe my pain?  What about the unjustifiable parts in the story for which no one will ever be able to give me an answer?   Are these, too, a part of "God's wonderful plan"?

A few years after we were married, my husband, Marc, and I began experiencing the disappointments and heartaches of infertility.  We longed to have a child.  Over the course of two years, we tried everything medically possible: in vitro, frozen embryos, you name it.

It was as if God was playing a cruel joke on me, preventing us from having a baby.  We were desperate and grieving.  These were not moments I could have believed something as simple and trite as "God has a wonderful plan for your life."

But it was through those awful chapters of infertility that God led us to a twenty-one year old girl named Megan, who was, at the time, five months pregnant with what would become our baby girl, Caroline.

At the birth and adoption of our sweet Caroline, it was as if the world was set right again.  The story resolved!  And for two years, I basked in the role of being a new mom to a beautiful baby girl.  Though the adjustment to motherhood was definitely a challenging one, I felt God's care for me.  His faithfulness to bring us through tough times was evident.

And then, one evening Marc and I noticed several locks of her wavy, brown hair missing.  We'd find her pacifier lying in her crib, mysteriously covered in hair.  We'd rinse her head in the bathtub and notice bald patches appearing and growing.

WHAT IS GOING ON, GOD?!?! I anxiously cried out to Him.  What am I doing wrong that I can't even keep HAIR on my child's head??!

Over the next ten months, Marc and I tearfully and helplessly watched our vibrant, active toddler metamorphasize into what looked like a sick, bald cancer patient.

Now, it would take me pages and pages to sufficiently describe the inner agony I experienced during this time.  It might sound a little dramatic, I understand.  Afterall, it was just hair.  But you see, in my story, this was NOT supposed to happen.  I HATED the story that was unraveling for me and for my daughter, and you better believe I fought it tooth and nail.  I was not in control here.   Her hairloss was called alopecia totalis, something I had never heard of before.  It wasn't a sickness, but more like an allergy her immune system developed to her own hair.

A bald daughter, God?  Really?  That didn't exactly fit into the dreams of what my family would look like.  No.  This story was not acceptable.  I was supposed to have a typical looking kid, and deal with the typical kid stuff.  And here God was making me the Mama of a daughter who will have to face the challenges and insecurities of life without a single hair on her head.  

This was not going the way I wanted it to go.  As I wrestled against the Author, I progressively began to see the beauty in the Psalms of Scripture.  Not necessarily in the "Great are you, Lord" Psalms, but those with words like "How long will you forget me, O Lord?" and "Darkness is my only friend" kinds of Psalms.  That's just where I was.  And to think, a holy God included these types of deep lament in His scriptures to encourage me and invite me to express my anger and my doubt to Him.  He could handle it.

At the end of that looong, dark chapter in my life, I was finally able to accept alopecia, thanks to the Holy Spirit, the community of believers around me, and some really good counseling.  I began to embrace this "wonderful plan" the Lord had for my life.

But when it came time to adopt a second time, I was gripped with fear.  What birthmom would ever pick my family now?  What birthmother would want to place their precious baby into a family that looked so unusual?  As you can imagine, having a bald daughter means we get alot of stares and varying reactions from people in public.  It was hard enough dealing with our daughter's differences, so we decided we'd adopt a caucasian baby.  You know, minimize the reaction.  

And then, last October, there came a birthmom!  She narrowed it down to two families to interview, and we were one of them.  We loved her, she loved us.  But in the end, she picked the other family.

Once again, God prevented!  No, no, NO!  This was NOT how the story should go, God.  And it left us speechless and full of doubts in His goodness.

But HE knew what He was doing.  HE knew the story (dare I say "the wonderful plan"?) He was writing loooong before we did.

Because it was that pain of being rejected as parents for the lily white baby boy that caused Marc and I to ask questions about what the Lord's purposes for us might be.  Maybe God had written baldness into our story to prepare us for more stares, more differences.  Maybe we weren't supposed to be the normal, white family who takes the family portrait on the beach in matching white polos and khaki shorts.  Maybe God was calling my family portrait to look different than what I had initially hoped.

Maybe all those urban mission trips to the southside of Chicago that caused Marc and I to fall in love with the richness of African American culture weren't in vain afterall.  Maybe our conversations about having a black son throughout the years weren't just in folly.

Maybe God was preventing us for a greater purpose.  And maybe, in the midst of such great pain, now was the time.

So around midnight one evening in early November, Marc and I made the commitment to pursue the adoption of a black baby boy, which sadly is the least desired type of infant to adopt.  I sent a quick email message to our case worker requesting her to change our paperwork before heading off to bed that night.

Many of you know what came next.

Less than 8 hours later, another birthmother and birthfather sat in front of five family photo albums to select just the right family for their baby.  And when they saw the joy on the face of my beautifully bald daughter, that's when they knew we were the family for them.

Well, of course.  Because isn't that just how God works?   The thing I feared would KEEP us from adopting a baby now became the very reason I WOULD receive one.

That same afternoon, November the 8th, a Haitian birthmother went into labor.  Not a single soul was present at the hospital to welcome my son into the world.   Only a male hospital worker stood at her bedside, holding her hand and reassuring her that what she was doing was an amazing thing for her baby.  Eleven days later, Marc and I were handed a bundled-up 6 pound baby boy with radiantly beautiful CHOCOLATE SKIN.

I'd NEVER have imagined that my story would include a bald daughter and a black son.  I'm still in shock!  It's not the story I would have written for myself, but in the end, underneath such stinging pain, God actually was writing a more wonderful story than I could have imagined.

He did have a wonderful plan for my life, but it didn't look the way I thought it would.

I've learned that God loves me FAR too much than to simply give me what I want.

It's at this point my story (and all of our stories, really) say "to be continued." Most of the time we don't have any idea what He's doing or what lies ahead for us.  We dream, we hope, we tell Him those things that we would like.  But who knows what He will choose to write into the future chapters of our lives?
He doesn't promise it will be easy, but He promises He will always be with us.
 
He doesn't promise us a story without suffering, but He offers us His Son.  A Son who knows suffering.

He knows what He is doing.

We can trust the Author's pen.

standby...

I haven't shared much about this publicly, but now, with my Dad's permission, I (Amy) think it's time.

A couple of years ago, my dad was diagnosed with a terminal disease called pulmonary fibrosis, which is a degenerating condition of the lungs.   For many years prior, we had watched Dad struggle with coughing and breathlessness, but we were all under the impression it was just allergies or asthma.  But when the diagnosis came, it hit pretty HARD.

No one wants to hear you have a terminal condition.
No one wants to bear the thought that you will die struggling for air.

Needless to say it was quite an emotional blow.

The thing with pulmonary fibrosis, though, is that some people can go yeeaaars with very little deterioration, and others can plummet downhill fast.  You never know what your life expectancy might be.  So I think my family chose to do what every family would have to do in that situation-- just continue living life and be thankful for each day of breath.


Over the past two years, though, we watched as my Dad suffered from oxygen depletion.  His oxygen tank was his "Buddy," and any exertion of energy would cost him terrible coughing fits and sometimes panic attacks.  In the picture above from last summer's beach trip, this was our HUGE success to get Dad out of the car and onto the sand to sit at the edge of the beach.  You'd be amazed at what a feat this was.  Still, we were happy he could watch his grandkids play on the beach, even just for once.


It's been difficult to watch my Dad's body transform due to the lack of oxygen.  His fingernails and hands are not the same ones I remember as a little girl.  He has dropped weight significantly, and any laughing sends him into horrible coughing.  

It has greatly impacted his ability to DO, too.  Thankfully he has still traveled (though that has gotten almost near impossible now), and he can sit and chime in on conversation, but my kids don't know a "Pop" who plays with them on the floor, or a Pop who can keep up with them.


When he's sitting down, he usually doesn't need his oxygen, but you can see in this picture above how the oxygen tubes have made a permanent mark on the sides of his face.


So if our family goes out and DOES anything, this is how Pop does it- in a wheelchair.


That's also why this family beach picture was all the more special this year.  Pop made it not only down to SEE the water, but we were able to get him down TO the water this one time.

The only "cure" for pulmonary fibrosis is a lung transplant.  Yes, that's right, a LUNG transplant.  (crazy that this is even possible!?!)  The surgery is a major one, obviously, but it sounds like it is not a completely risky one.  (there would be more risk after the surgery with rejection issues or catching a virus that would harm his fragile immune system)  So the surgery provides an opportunity to extend  life and allow oxygen and breath once again (I can't IMAGINE this for my Dad), but with it, there will be other complications to daily life, too.

However, you only become "eligible" for the transplant and are given an allocation number once the physicians determine you are within one year of dying.

So we all thought this transplant thing would be a loooong way off.

But we were wrong.

Today he was given an allocation number.  Number 40.

Doesn't mean a whole lot, until you find out that the last guy that got a transplant had an allocation score in the mid-40's, and he only waited 11 DAYS for his new lung. (!!!)

I don't understand how it all works, but there's a ton of variables as to when my Dad would be selected.   Currently he's #6 on the list, but that could change in a moments's notice once they match up blood types, determine if it will be a double lung or single lung operation (my dad only needs a single lung), etc. etc.

So literally, he could get a call at any moment from here on out.  It could be tonight.  It could be 6 weeks or months from now.

How bizarre is it, God, that in order to save my Dad's life, You will have to take that of another?

My parents are on standby.
The bags are packed and by the door.

When they get THE call, they have only a short time to get to the hospital (over an hour away), and my dad will be able to take a careflight helicopter to shorten the travel time.

He'll need twelve weeks of recovery and my parents will be living in an apartment very close to the hospital during this time as he is monitored carefully.  I plan to fly out to be with my parents during this time as well.


So that's the news.  I don't even know how to feel about it-- I guess I'm nervous and scared mostly, yet ultimately hopeful and want to see my Dad breathing freely again.  My family would greatly appreciate your prayers, and I will keep you all updated when the time comes.

Life just feels like it's on standby right now.

celebrate differences...

Oooh, I'm a little fired up emotionally right now.  Allow me to vent?

Thank you.

So my kids and I are eating Chic-Fil-A with a friend and her daughter, when suddenly I hear the woman behind me explaining to her child very matter-of-factly,

"It's because she is sick.  So we're not going to say anything else about it."

Obviously her kid was asking about my kid.

Now, normally in public settings, I see the stares, the second glances, and even the whispers, and I can assume what they're saying.  But I gotta tell you, it's something else to actually hear it come out of someone's ignorant mouth.

In that millisecond of choosing my reaction, I'm torn.  I felt my blood begin to boil, and everything in me wanted to turn around and interrupt this woman to say, "Um, excuse me.  No, she's NOT sick.  That's my daughter you're talking about."

But then I thought, Well, what would be so offensive about being sick anyways?  There are tons of amazing, inspiring sick kids out there- why would I be offended for my kid to be mistakenly lumped in with them?  Is there something inherently wrong IF she actually WERE a sick kid?  Absolutely not.

But at the end of all that thinking is the honest truth... I don't want to be weak.

And I don't want people thinking bald always equals sick.

So I remained facing forwards, but had to stop the conversation with my friend to take a moment to process this.

Because the other half of me in that moment becomes very, very sad.  Sad that my daughter will forever be so misunderstood.  Forever be judged according to her appearance.  She will forever be the object of stares and whispers, and sometimes I feel like I am the fish swimming upstream against a whole WORLD of a current to teach her not to give a rip about what people think.

But do you want to know what bothers me even more than the "she's sick" comment?  I mean, before my daughter lost her hair, I had never HEARD of alopecia before, so I know this lady was answering the question in all sincerity.

It wasn't the ignorance of the "she's sick" comment.  It was the terrible application of it:

She's sick.  THEREFORE,  don't. say. anything.  else.

So here's how the logic goes...

A)  Your child sees someone that's different and asks a question.

B)  You will quickly and bluntly answer that question.  BUT...

C)  They may not speak about it again.

Ummm, not sure I agree with her parenting style there...

Because what she is subtly teaching her child is that differences in people are SHAMEFUL.
That people who are different should be ASHAMED.
That you cannot be comfortable and free around those who are different-
you must keep your thoughts to yourself and ignore the elephant in the room.

Dear woman, I couldn't disagree with you more.

Because what results of your logic is that your little girl will carry with her a sense that DIFFERENT = bad.  She will only be able to be "free" around those who are just like her.  She'll only look to have friendships with those who she perceives to be the same as her.  Or she'll have to enter into relationships with those who are not the same with an air of fakeness because she's been taught to ignore a huge part of people's identity.

Can we please, PLEASE teach our children (and our own hearts) to REJOICE in differences instead?  

When your child sees my child's bald head and asks about it, can you pleeeeease instead say something along the lines of, "You know?  I don't know for sure.  Maybe it's because she's sick and she's taking medicine that makes her hair fall out.  We can go talk to her and find out."

(What you're really saying is, "Yep, it's NORMAL for people to be different.  And there are reasons for it.  And it's okay to talk about it.")

OR "Isn't she pretty?  Isn't it neat how you don't have to have hair to be beautiful?"

OR "You know how everybody's got something?  Like you have ____ (insert your child's difference here)__, and she just doesn't have hair!"

We will do our children a disservice in this world if we hush-hush their naturally curious observations about differences.

When your young child notices my son's dark skin, will you hush them?

Or will you REJOICE in how God gave him the most beautiful chocolate skin?

Is race and culture something we should keep quiet about, or something that reflects the image of God and how He created humanity?

Will you use that opportunity with your child to STOP the conversation, and make them feel as if they've said something wrong or inappropriate?  Or will you seek to teach and train?

Sure, my children are different.

But so are yours.

It's okay to be different, and it's also okay to talk about it, too.

What messages, dear parent, are you sending in your silence?

pancakes, anyone?

What a morning, y'all.

 Here was the scene at my door this morning.

(I honestly don't care if they wear shoes in my house.  Someone just started a trend.)

It was a Welcome Back RUF Pancake Breakfast at our place.

It was amazing.

Mostly because I had nothing to do with it.  :)

Seriously!  Thanks to these wonderful, culinary-ily gifted students of ours,

I didn't hardly lift a finger!  

(except to snap a few photos, that is)

While my kids were well taken-care of,

I was able to enjoy meeting so many new students

and catch up with the old. 

I think we're going to have some awesome freshmen,

just praying they'll "stick!"

Thanks to our kitchen remodel last summer,

our place nicely hosted the 55+ students that came.

(though there wasn't a whole lot of wiggle room...)

Above was the scene in the kitchen,

 while a whole pile of students lined up on the porch to my right,

 and yet another group filled up the living room to my left.

 The yummy spread!

 It was so cool to host students as far as New Guinea and South Africa...

 It was even cooler that the new freshmen outnumbered our current students today!  

(a couple of them asked me, "So, what is RUF exactly??"  

Oh, the joys of the first week of college- you don't have a clue where you are!)

This gal certainly loved the chocolate chip pancakes.

A handful of freshmen gals. 

 He didn't mind it.

 She loved it.

It was a great time all around.

RUF starts this Thursday night!

Pray that many will come as we study the book of Romans this semester.

Pray that all of these freshmen will come and find a community

where they can find deep friendship,

understand grace in a new way, or for the first time ever,

and serve others for the glory of God.

post-tube report...

It's been almost two weeks since our little guy got his ear tubes...


... and so far, I'd say he's feeling a TON better! (and growing like a weed!)

The doc said there was fluid hanging around behind both ears, so I can't imagine how relieving it must feel now.  In fact, at his nine month appointment the other day, he had to get his finger pricked for an iron and lead check, and would you believe he didn't so much as flinch?!!  Marc wondered if it was because he has been so accustomed to living with ear pain that something like this was nothing...


I'm a little hesitant to declare a total victory yet, because only time will tell.  But boy, he's getting a little more sleep at night...


and he doesn't seem in pain anymore, so there's more time to enjoy everything around him...


...AND the biggest thing was that his babbling just took OFF immediately!!  (It's so cute!  Well, HE'S so cute, I gotta say, and the little sweet babbling makes it even better.  Jameson slays the three of us with his cuteness.)

I knew he could hear before the tubes, but since he wasn't babbling like other babies his age, I wondered if was due to the pressure and pain of his ears.  Yep, it was.  Now he's just a jabberin' away in his own little language.  (and not to mention, pulling up on everything and trying to cruise around!  This is going too fast!  He wants to be like big sis!)


So it's a good report for one good little guy.

like totally, man...

Dude, like, 79 college students just signed up for more information about RUF at Liberty's Welcome Fair today.


Ha ha ha ha, you're kidding me.


Um, no.  Totally serious.

We've never gotten that many names at a fair before.


(gasp)  Oh wow!

lucky 13...

We're starting our THIRTEENTH year of RUF campus ministry.  Can ya believe it?!

As another fall semester is about to begin, things around our place are really ramping up with activity.

In fact, we're having a huge pancake breakfast for all returning and incoming students this Saturday morning at our place!!  (woohoo!)


But before all the new freshmen move into the dorms, our student ministry team enjoyed an overnight retreat this past weekend, where Marc prepared and trained our group for reaching out and doing city-wide ministry this fall.   That's no small task!


It was a beautiful time in the mountains to pray and make plans for the upcoming year.


This will be a year of rebuilding.  Over the past two years, we've lost many seniors who provided alot of leadership in our group, so in some ways it feels a bit like we're starting over with a younger group.


We're also changing the location of our meeting space this fall.  We'll be meeting at New Covenant Schools (where Caroline will be attending, actually), which is a beautiful facility centrally located to all five of our colleges.  AND, did I mention they're not charging us rent?  (such a blessing!)


We are quite needy, though.

Pray for us, as our family adjusts to the hectic pace of the next month.  It's exciting, but exhausting!

Pray for Marc, as he prepares to teach through the book of Romans on Thursday nights (beginning NEXT Thurs!).

Pray for our student ministry team, that they'll naturally reach out to those God places around them and invite them to come on Thursday nights.

Pray for Marc, our intern, Tom, and our "pretend-tern," Nancy, as they meet one-on-one with students.  Pray that they would listen well.
That they would speak when it's time to speak,
ask when it's time to ask,
encourage when it's time to encourage,
and confront when it's time to confront.

Pray for our RUF fundraising, which is doing well at the moment thanks to a huge end-of-the-year boost in giving last Christmas, but what we need even more than the one-time gifts are 50 folks to give $50 a month to sustain this ministry.  (fyi, if you want to be one of those 50, go to www.ruf.org/donate and designate it to Lynchburg RUF)


Pray for students in Lynchburg, (is it obvious they need prayer?  ha ha!)

-that those who are homesick and lonely would be comforted and find a new community away from home in RUF

-that those who are skeptical of Christianity would find a safe place in RUF to express doubt and ask questions

-that those who would benefit from the ministry of RUF would be invited and become involved

-that those who are tired and burned out from legalism might find RUF to be a rest stop where they see Jesus as more beautiful and believable than ever before

-that students from each of the 5 campuses (Liberty University, Lynchburg College, Randolph College, Sweet Briar College, Central Virginia Community College) would come to RUF and intermingle well.  Historically, these are not colleges that get along.

-that the Gospel would be central in every area of their life, and that God would use the ministry of RUF to transform the places in their lives where it is not


We're off to begin Lucky number 13!  

Thank you, friends, for your love and support.

the issue of which we don't dare speak...

It's so crazy how I sit down to type out some thoughts about race and suddenly I'm WRACKED with fear and insecurity.  You see, I'm white, so seriously, what do I know when it comes to race?!?  And being white also secretly means that I'm not suppoooooosed to talk about race.  Heck, I'm not even supposed to SEE it.

Or so they say.

I feel like I've poured my heart out on this blog regarding numerous topics, and I'm fairly comfortable doing it.  But when it comes to blogging about issues of race?  Honestly, it's difficult for me.  I feel like I'm going to say something wrong (and I surely will) or make all of you mad (and some of you probably will be).  More than anything, I think I'm afraid that you'll reject me if I think differently than you.  Or maybe I'll be written off and labeled just because I dare to open my mouth (or my writing) about these issues...

These issues of which we don't dare speak.

But the Lord has taken me from such a distant Point "A" to Point "B" on these issues, and obviously, they're rather personal now that I'm a mama to my handsome, chocolate brown baby.  I am bursting at the seams with thoughts and reflections on this issue the more I read, the more I learn, the more I am in community with others who are not like me.

But honestly, I'm hesitant to "go there" and share.  It certainly won't win me any popular votes.

Quite frankly, I know white people NEED to start talking about race.   I know we need to give up the myth of "I don't see color" and stop working so hard to be "colorblind."  I know the intentions behind those statements are good, but the results can be detrimental.  Because what we're really saying to our kids is that race and color are somehow shameful, something that we shouldn't see or talk about.  It's in these "colorblind" beliefs that we are silently perpetuating a subtle form of racism.

Suppose Marc said to me, "Amy, I don't see you as a woman."

Umm, that would be weird, right?  Because that's part of who I am.  It's not all of my identity, but it's a big player in it.  And he is going to ignore it?  If he didn't see me as a woman, how would he see me?

Can it just be OKAY to see race and to talk about it with one another?  Can it be OKAY to admit our own stereotypes and let them be challenged?  Can it be OKAY to have open, honest discussions with people who are different than us, and ask real and honest QUESTIONS?  People of color aren't hush-hushing the topic.  They are comfortable talking about it.  They don't have the luxury to not speak.

Before Jameson entered our family, I never mentioned a word to Caroline about race.  If you think about it, I didn't have to... it has never been a factor for me when I walk into a room, or when I interview for a job, or when I walk into a store, or when I'm walking alone at night.

Before Jameson, I certainly wasn't intentional on buying my children dolls of different skin colors or books with ethnic characters.  (Likely we would have only bought light-skinned dolls, and what might that have subtly taught?)

I never pointed out the beautiful array of skin colors that God displays in His creation.  (but it's there!  He designed it that way!  It's the collection of COLOR that show off His image!)

Oh, how so much has already changed.

Caroline and I talk skin color often.  We relish in God's goodness at making us all unique.

If you think about it, God Himself reflects diversity AND oneness.  He is one God, in three different persons.  To ignore His differences is to ignore who He is in his essence.

I don't think He intends for us to ignore the differences HE created.

How my heart leaps for joy when Caroline carries her black cabbage patch kid in the store with her!  It's a picture of God's image.  She will grow up with such a better understanding of race as she deeply loves her brown brother.

Race is beautiful.  He made it!  And that makes it okay to talk about.

Of course, the flip side of the race topic is a dark one.  One that includes not only a shameful and disgusting history, but a current society still enmeshed in social injustice.   It saddens me to no end the number of people that are like I was and believe that widespread, systemic racism is a thing of the past.

It's okay, though.  It's easy to believe things don't exist anymore if they don't ever cross your actual path.  That's where I was.  Now my eyes have been opened.  And I'm sure I'll be sharing the moments when racism crosses our own path.

You can ignore race, or you can over-emphasize it in a way that downplays our oneness.  Like our Creator, we are one.  Like our Creator, we are NOT the same.

But instead of pretending race doesn't exist,
or that it's the issue of which we don't dare speak,
let's examine our own hearts, find the beauty in each color,
and begin developing our racial literacy
to bring glory to the One
AND the Three.

9 days, 9 months...

Dearest little Jameson,

When I first got "the" call about you, telling me that you were mine,

I had nine days to wait for you.

Nine days until I would meet you, and hold you

and bring you home to our eager little family.


Today you've been alive for nine months!

How the time has already flown.  How quickly you grow and change.


I look at you, and I'm speechless at God's goodness.

HE knew what was best for me,

WAY before I ever did.

I remember His tender stirrings in my heart

over many months, and years,

preparing me to be a Mama to you,

though I resisted the thought at times,

though I was scared at the what ifs

and though I had no idea this was indeed my story.


And then, the night I sent the email

that said we longed to have a baby boy with skin like chocolate,

YOU were born less than 24 hours later.

Could it be any less than God's miraculous timing?

Nine days without you,


but I've more than cherished the nine months with you.

tubes...

Ear tubes are in!  It's finally over!

Please, please, God.  Please let these tubes stop (or at least slow down) the ear infections now.

Everyone said this surgery was going to be quick and easy.

And it was!

The worst part was probably when he woke up at 3:30am ready for his normal feeding and I couldn't give him anything.  Poor guy didn't know what was happening to him, and it's not like I'm going to get a blissful night's sleep listening to my baby screaming across the hall... that's pretty tortuous for any parent.

Don't know what time he finally gave out, but when my alarm went off at 5:30, it felt like I hadn't slept a wink.  Nevertheless, it was go time!


Doc, give me these tubes!  (in the waiting room)

And no more than fifteen minutes after they took him in...

He was in my arms, fussy and groggy, but still waving at Daddy.  (I'm glad the nurse forewarned me that babies scream when they wake up from anesthesia!)


This little gal didn't want to be anywhere NEAR the surgery.  She was afraid her brother would get a shot and cry, and that would be enough to do her in.  (sweet sister)

So, thankfully some new friends from church stepped in to give Caroline the playdate of her dreams-- drawing, going to the park with their 5 yr. old nephew, eating lunch at Chic-Fil-A (including ice cream), and shopping for stickers and glue at the Dollar Store.  :)  I couldn't be more grateful for them, especially getting up that early in the morning on their day off work!  They provided Marc, Jameson, and I the chance to come home and get some much needed sleep.


With a few naps on and off throughout the morning, by mid-afternoon, this guy was back to normal!  Crawling, smiling, and pulling up on everything!  I couldn't believe his energy, so I snagged a quick video while he was in his jumper:


Praise God for a quick and easy surgery!  Now we pray they will do their job!

tomorrow...

This guy gets ear tubes tomorrow morning.

Hallelujah!  It is finally here!

We have to be at the surgery center at 6:30am for a 7:30 procedure.

15 minutes and it's done.

The longest 15 of my life??

The hardest part will probably be not letting him eat after midnight...

We could be in for a long night.

Pray for us.