October 27, 2004

Seven years ago I had a sweet little girl and we were looking forward to meeting our next baby in June of 2005. On the morning of October 27 Rachel and I were getting ready to go somewhere, I don't remember where. She was still in her crib. As I walked through the house, I could take you to the exact spot, I felt an unsettling sensation. There was lots of bright red blood and no doubt what was happening. I felt stunned that a miscarriage could be a reality for me. I was thankful for the wonderful education of Topeka's Birth and Women's Center. I knew I could trust my body and I knew how to let it tell me what was happening. I also automatically knew I could trust God to take care of my baby, whether that be here or somewhere between here and eternity. As it all began to sink in, I remember distinctly thinking, "I have a baby in heaven waiting for me." It was my first time to truly long for Heaven.

Before I called the Birth Center I got a cup of juice, sat in the rocking chair, and put my feet up. (Because I could hear Norla's voice telling me to do that.) I was put on hold. I began to cry. Finally someone named Lori answered the phone. I remember thinking, "I don't want to talk to Lori. I don't know her. I want my midwife." Lori was sweet and encouraging and told me to rest and be peaceful and let my body decide what to do. In the weeks after, I was proud of myself for never having a freak-out moment through all that. I instinctively knew there was not a reason to go to my general dr. or the ER. Incidentally --- I knew Lori. She had been the one who taught my birth prep classes with Rachel. I loved Lori and now I *really* love Lori. In the moment, however, my brain just didn't process who she was on the phone.

I suppose I called Ray first, but I don't honestly remember what order I called Ray, my mom, and the Birth Center. They both came from work to be sure I was okay. I think Ray was at a loss for what to do. Eventually he went back to work and I was okay with that. I remember sitting on the floor and holding Rachel and realizing how precious a healthy baby is. Something I have never taken for granted in the following year as I have rejoiced over Jonathan's birth, Keri's birth, and more than 20 doula clients.

My dear Traci brought me Panera the next day for lunch and shared my tears. And the following evening we shared more tears and prayers with our Friday night bible study on the living room floor at the Townsend's. Even now as I type, those are the sacred memories that bring me to tears. The love and friendship of my brothers and sisters in that group is one of my life's biggest blessings.

Given the choice, I'm certain I would have passed on the option of going through a miscarriage. However, it's a memory and experience I deeply value. While there was plenty of sadness and loss, I also rejoice with the Hope of Heaven. I think of it in a whole new way. It's a real place to me because a part of me is already there and I can't wait to get there too.

This year on October 27 I decided to so something special to commemorate. Actually I've been thinking of it for a couple years, but for a variety of reasons haven't until now.

Rachel's on my right, Jonathan's on my left, and a heart for the baby is in the middle. ~So, so thankful.~

As we transition to worshiping with a new church family a thought/word picture entered my mind during worship last week: I never realized I grew up walking on egg shells, until my feet recently started to heal.

It's not meant to be a negative picture, but a picture of a new found peaceful freedom. Just my thoughts thus far. I'm sure there will be more to come.

The Prrrride of Wildcat Land, the K-State Marching Band!

Kinda gives you goose bumps, huh? :-)

Tomorrow begins the K-State football season. Thousands will be doing the Wabash and singing the fight song:

Fight, you K-State Wildcats,
For alma mater fight! FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!
Glory in the combat
For the purple and the white.
Faithful to our colors
We shall ever be
Fighting, ever fighting
For a Wildcat victory. Go State!

Why? We're proud of our team. We love purple! We point out Willie to our kids. We wear the jerseys. We sing the song. We count the push-ups.

You know my favorite part of going to a K-State basketball game? It's not the tip off, or any part of the game. I *love* watching the team walk down the tunnel on the jumbo-tron. It's loud! It's exciting! It's the anticipation!

So what's my point?

Today as I drove to work I heard a commercial with the fight song in the background. Almost simultaneously, as I was singing in my head..."glory in the combat for the purple and the white"... I was driving by flag after flag at half-staff. ~~~"Kansas Governor Sam Brownback has ordered flags in the State of Kansas to be flown at half-staff on Friday, Sept. 2, in honor of Sergeant Alexander Bennett who died on Aug. 6, while serving in the U.S. Army in Afghanistan"~~~ And a question hit me: Do those who refuse to sing the National Anthem also refuse to sing their school's fight song? Because you know what? The National Anthem is our country's fight song. If you don't want to sing the words or put your hand over your heart I think that's okay. We're fortunate to live in a place where we're both free to do as we please, however, if you don't understand why some of us do chose to do so, think of the atmosphere at a college game when the fight song is being played. The feeling is very similar. I suppose it's different for everyone and some might disagree. But I'm confident in saying there are many who love red, white, and blue in a similar way we love purple.

Go State!

She threw away the vase! It's been a picture stuck in my head for weeks now. Recently a friend recommended a book on the importance of wives and their influence on their husbands. It arrived in the mail yesterday and I'm anxious to get started. As we talked I told her about an event I witnessed from a distance. It was a friend's birthday at the beginning of August. Her husband sent her a breath-taking bouquet of pink and red roses for her birthday. I mean the kind that have a huge glass vase and are exquisite from any angle. They sat on her desk for several days, and, as all cut flowers do, they wilted and eventually were thoroughly brown. Not long after, another individual and her husband met her for lunch. As they left the office she carried with her the vase of brown roses. Before they all got in the vehicle together she walked over to the dumpster and threw away the flowers, and the vase. She probably didn't even notice, but her husband stood on the sidewalk and watched the whole thing.

Now. I know I was raised in a family who does not waste anything, if it's reasonable to expect so. I mean, for crying out loud! My mom dipped out the water from the rinse cycle in the washing machine, so she could use it to dump back in and start her next load of laundry. She would never dream of throwing away a glass vase. It would go in her stash under the sink and then resurface when she had flowers from her own yard. They would sit on our table, or be given to a friend.

Back to the dumpster and the husband. Putting the wasteful aspect aside, the respect issue is a much larger topic to tackle. I believe the bible specifically commands husbands to love their wives and wives to respect their husbands for a very specific reason. Typically husbands would choose to be respected, over a feeling of love. We as wives have no idea the power we hold. A single word, a single action, a single sigh, a single expression....far beyond what we understand, we hold our husband's self-worth in our hands. It is something we should treasure and thoughtfully consider. A husband who feels respected and honored is and entirely different man than the one who feels belittled or over-ridden.

All of us, in our own ways, have thrown away the vase. My hope is that as we continue along that we become more and more perceptive to how our decisions, actions, and words as wives affect our husbands. God has given us a treasure and a gift. My prayer is that we use that gift to honor Him, honor our marriages, and honor our husbands.

And where to begin? It was a 48 hour labor. It was a frightful birth. However...God was in control and His perfect planning and timing was so evident to all of us. The morning after the birth we spent a bit of time thanking God for those specific blessings in the previous two days.

* safety as we both drove through severe storms to arrive at the hospital
* excellent nurses each night and day
* the right doctor available
* a place for my kids to go
* Drew's availability to take care of Keri
* the patience given during difficult decisions
* special friends praying from afar
* my availability to be there
* a patient and encouraging hospital staff
* rest when needed, even for just a few minutes
* a quality breakfast at the hotel, might sound strange, but it was definitely a blessing
* a hospital discount at the hotel
* medical technology, giving us the freedom to make the most informed choices possible
* God's guidance for those choices that involved the inevitable unknowns of birth
* the best doctor quote ever: "It was a treat to have a mom and dad who was patient with the birth process and not rushing into quick decisions."
* Christian nurses with a great mix of gentleness and sense of humor.
* Madelynn's great coping with being away from mom and dad for several nights for the first time.
* More blessings than we even humanly realize.....

"...the heart of Asa was wholly true to the LORD all his days."
~ 1 Kings 15:14

What a blessing to be an intimate part of your birth sweet boy!

(traveling in style - Ray came to visit and brought the trailer so I didn't have to drive home :-)

So....is it poor manners to blog during a birth? This is certainly a first - and, ironically, a last. I think every doula has "what if" birth fears. For whatever reason, God is allowing all my fears to come alive this time around. I drove three and a half hours to this birth - with a headache - in a severe thunder storm. Contractions went on all night, but little change in the cervix. Little sleep. Small area to walk. Now, 19 hours after I left home, we're still having contractions consistently and mom and dad are walking together in Walmart. But there is light! All babies come eventually! And, these are great friends of ours! If they weren't this might put me over the edge. Because they are, I can easily maintain my optimism and energy. A reminder that all births are lovely miracles from God. And so we walk....and wait...come on baby Asa, let's see your pretty face!

In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone O LORD, make me dwell in safety. ~ Psalms 4:8

Dreams. They really are strange if you think about it. My brain makes up stories when I'm asleep. Some of them are really pointless. Some of them are really confusing. Some of them are extremely meaningful. Stick with me here.

This past week I've been prompted, by several dreams, to seriously consider what role, if any, do God and Satan play in our dreams. I don't really know. Without a doubt God used dreams in the bible. Many, many people were given legitimate information through their dreams. At the same time, I think it's ridiculous to think all our dreams mean something. But I also think we lead very busy lives and possibly our sleep is the only time we slow down enough to "listen" to God.

Even scarier, to me, what about Satan's role? Are dreams a tool of his too? Again, I don't know. If I think about that question for too long I could really freak out! And, really, since it's a question with no answer, it's probably best not to waste too much time on it. So instead of talking in circles - that really annoys me - let's get to the point.

I definitely feel God gave me a word picture via a dream concerning a major decision Ray and I will be making in the near future. It wasn't a booming voice, or a promise, or a glimpse of the future, but I feel it was something to take seriously. That was several weeks ago and I've had plenty of time to think about it. I've only shared its details with Ray.

I also think there are times when I am challenged through dreams. Often my worries and fears are exposed, my temptations are brought to light, or my insecurities are made obvious. Now, I don't know that I believe it is something specifically controlled by Satan: "Tonight I think she shall dream about....this!" I don't think so. But I do think those are prime times to give those fears, temptations, and insecurities to God and ask Him for strength to fight them or get through them. It's also a good time to analyze myself (sounds deep, huh?) and any current circumstances in life. Sometimes when I dream something worrisome it's my reminder that God is in control and I'm perfect capable (with Him alongside) to accomplish the coming task.

Perhaps tougher, the temptations. They wouldn't be temptations if they weren't desirable. These are the times when I get frustrated. I didn't think that on purpose! I wasn't even given the chance to consciously say/think "no" or "go away". Perhaps at these times it's my job to practice not re-living the dream and its circumstances or people involved over and over in my mind. Uggh! So frustrating.

Maybe it's grasping at straws for some of you, but I don't see why we shouldn't relate every bit of our lives to God, even something that is as vague and "sub-conscience" as our dreams. So if you're plagued by worrisome dreams or dreams that make you feel insecure or dreams that indulge a temptation, ask God for relief. We are promised that He "goes with us wherever we go." Why should that not include our sleep.

We all know how lullabys work for young children. They calm and soothe and invite peaceful sleep. Here's something to enjoy that functions in much the same role for me. The picture doesn't change, so close your eyes and enjoy the words: Lullaby for big people.