Let the words flow from my mind through my fingertips

I love to create.  I love photography, painting, coloring, crafting, crocheting, singing, wood burning, and so many other random ways of seeing something come into being by the work of my mind and my hands.

I love writing.  I love writing beautiful words in script, I love writing notes and letters, I love writing down my thoughts and sharing them with others when applicable.  I have kept a journal or a blog of some kind for most of my life. 

Last year, it was spoken over me that I would speak in front of people.  I saw that come to life shortly after, giving a portion of my testimony in front of the women’s group at church, and then by opening up Christmas Eve church a couple of months later.  But, as I’ve said to multiple people, I write more fluidly than I speak.

This year, it has been spoken over me that I would write more.  I haven’t been sure of how that would come to fruition, but I have seen myself writing more and more, whether it is comments in online Bible study and church services, social media posts, little notes, digital artwork, or blog posts, I have been slowly seeing more words flow from my mind through my fingertips.

It’s even been spoken over me that I should or will write a book some day.  Time will reveal that, I’m sure, although I cannot even begin to imagine what I would fill an entire book with.

This morning, I watched church from home once again, still recovering from the after effects of my second positive Covid test and infection at the end of September.  Today, our pastor and his wife, again, spoke over me in regard to releasing writing.  Then, to my surprise, the service was about creativity and how we are all crafters in our own ways.  We all bring things to life.

As I sat and listened and reflected on my own personality and my love of making things, often times to bless other people, I remembered the weekend prior to getting sick again.  

I attended a women’s conference at my friend’s church- the Enough Conference.  This year, it was focused on being equipped and empowered, and reflected quite a bit on the pandemic we are currently living through.  Multiple times, it was asked, “what are you afraid of, what’s holding you back?”  The premise is that we are all living through a scary, overwhelming, unknown time in our lives, but we are surviving and overcoming it all.  If we can get through these days, what is keeping us from our purposes?

I recall, that weekend, wondering what my purpose is.  What am I supposed to be bringing to this world right now?  If I was created for such a time as this, what am I supposed to contribute to this time?  

Those questions lasted a few days, until one night, I laid in my bed, and the words “empowered” and “equipped” kept circling around in my mind.

Years ago, I wrote poetry, frequently, in my bed, in the dark, with my pen on the paper and unable to see what my script looked like until morning. I would let it fly from my fingers without criticism until I refined it in the daylight.

That night, I pulled out my phone, and with very little editing involved, I let the words glide onto my screen. 

I love music, especially worship music.  I sometimes think of my own testimony as a worship song, although it’s not really put to an audible melody.  After I wrote these words, I thought of them as worship as well, although they too, lack an audible melody.  I haven’t been sure of what I am supposed to do with these words, so they’ve been sitting in secret for almost two months.  

This morning, I felt it was time to release them.  I wrote this as a reminder to myself on the days and nights I wonder, questions, and struggle.  I have spent many hours searching, and sometimes, I search for so long that I see right past the beautiful, simple, wholesome answers that God provides.

Perhaps you’re out there, much like I was, and have been multiple times, wondering what your purpose is in times such as these.  Perhaps, you wonder who you are inside.  Perhaps, you wonder what your value is in this world.  These words are for you, too.

Let me assure you, you have a purpose, you are a beautiful, treasured creation, and God has a plan for you.  There’s something only you can bring to this world.  You too, were created for such a time as this.  

I pray you know that you are cherished, important, and Loved.

 You tell me that I'm a masterpiece-

A wonderful creation, I am unique,

And I know in my heart it is true,

Because I put all of my trust in You.

But some days, I find myself confused.

I pray and wonder “what should be my use?”

I try to read between the lines

Of the words you write over my life.

I peel the layers off the canvas that you paint,

And inspect each imprint on this clay,

Just to see if I can figure out who I'm supposed to be.

But, when I'm finally still and breathing in 

Your Spirit floating like the wind,

And soak in the gentle melody 

you composed for only me,

I realize it's so simple, I don't need to keep searching.

I'm your beautiful, beloved one,

The sparkle in your fiery eyes,

The one you sent your son to guide 

Into your safe and steady arms.

I am chosen and I am equipped,

Empowered for this time I'm living in,

And nothing I can do will change 

The way you feel about

Who I am:

Fearfully, wonderfully, beautifully, carefully, joyfully, perfectly made.

I am your Love.

I will not live a life of fear,

Because the weapons that I need are here

Inside my heart, soul, spirit, and my mind.

The battle rages all around,

But with you the end of war is found.

Death has come knocking at my door.

I will not cower in its shadow anymore.

Your breath of life fills me to overflow...

When I'm finally still and breathing in

Your spirit, floating like the wind,

And soaking in the gentle melody

You composed for only me,

I remember...

I'm your beautiful, beloved one,

The sparkle in your fiery eyes

The one you sent your son to guide 

Into your safe and steady arms.

I am chosen and I am equipped,

Empowered for the time I'm living in,

And nothing I can do will change

The way you feel about me,

What you see when You gaze upon me,

The person I am called to be,

Who I really am-

I am your Love.

I am made to Love.

So, let me Love.

Our first decade together

 Dearest Spencer,

This is it, the end of an era.  Tomorrow, when you wake up, you will no longer be nine.  You will be into the double digits, never to go back.  Tomorrow, you will have been alive and breathing on this earth for ten full years.

That’s a decade, you know.

Tomorrow, we will have made it through our first decade together.   You and I, we’ve always been a special team, you know.  You made me a mommy, and we have learned this life together for 10 full years.

Ten!  It’s such a huge milestone, don’t you think?

It’s so hard to wrap my mind around that number.  I can see each year represented by one finger on my hand.  But from here on out, that will no longer be possible.  That’s so many years, buddy!  We can no longer hold them on our hands.

I remember sitting in our apartment, ten years ago tonight, knowing the next morning you would be on your way into this world.  I was filled with such nervous excitement. I couldn’t imagine the world with you in it. I couldn’t wait to see your face and get to know you.

You know, there were actually years when I wasn’t sure if God was ever going to allow me to be a mommy.  It was a struggle to get there, but God is so good.  You were the answer to that prayer I prayed so many times, and you’ve been an answer to so many prayers since then.

I could not imagine for even a moment just how incredible life would be the moment I first held you in my arms.  I couldn’t imagine what it would really be like to be your mommy, and now there’s no moment I would want to ever try to imagine what it would be like if I wasn’t.

Ten years.  Ten! It’s quite exciting though, don’t you think?  It’s been an absolute joy watching you grow into the young man you’ve become.  Yes, it’s been stressful at times, for both of us, since we are always still learning together.  I am the oldest sibling in my family too, so I know how it can be sometimes.  I try my hardest to get it right, but I know, because I’m human, sometimes, I get it wrong.  The best part about it is that you’ve always loved me and forgiven me when I haven’t quite gotten parenthood right.  You’re human too, and you get mad at me sometimes and say things that aren’t the nicest, but I know deep in your heart that you are so grateful for me.  You’ve said it in so many ways, so many times, by the little notes you leave me that bring me the happiest of tears, to the way you cover me up with blankets if I fall asleep on the couch when I’m not feeling well.  You show it in the way you ask the Alexa to play my favorite songs, and walk by with a smile telling me “this one’s for you, mom.”  There have been more times than I can even count where you just walk by or sit next to me and tell me you love me, or that I’m the best mom in the world.  When I feel like I’m failing, I look at you and your siblings and see how beautiful and strong you are, and I know that failure must not be true.

This year has been hard.  I know that the trauma we have been through together, with me being so sick for so long, took it’s toll on your heart.  I am aware that it was incredibly hard to watch your mom be asleep for almost days on end, or unable to walk across the room without struggling to breathe.  I know how scared you were that I might not make it through a day or a night.  

And, quite honestly, I’m sorry that you had to go through that. I’m sorry my body wasn’t stronger and that it was such a hard time to get through. I’m sorry for the days I was unable to be the best mother, to be a mother you truly deserved.  I’m sorry for the way that it made you grow up just a little bit more, a little bit sooner than either of us would have hoped.  I hope that you know that every time I’ve apologized for being grumpy or rude, that I was sincere, and it broke my heart a little each time that I was not the greatest mom that there is.  

But, I tell you what- the way you have faced this journey has made me so incredibly proud.  I have seen you become such a strong young man, seen the love you have for not only me, but your siblings, the way you helped make sure I was okay and they were okay.  You are a wonderful big brother, yes, even if sometimes you and your siblings fight or say things you don’t mean, and you are a magnificent son.  God knew what he was doing when he placed us together for this life.

I hope that you know that I love you with my entire heart.  I love your siblings with my entire heart too, of course, but you had my heart first.  

This year has shown me so many ways that you have become a creative and independent young man.  One of my favorite memories was just a couple of weeks ago, walking along in the woods, watching you take pictures with my camera.  You brought me the utmost joy watching you in your element. I love taking photographs too, but as a momma, there’s something even more special watching your child develop that interest. I hope that someday we can go on a photography journey together, just the two of us.

I am also so proud and amazed by you and your new interest in playing the viola. I have told you before that I remember being younger and teaching myself the guitar, and being nervous to let others hear me play, so I completely understand that side of you.  When you let me listen to you, my heart just swells with joy, and I see such greatness inside of you.  No matter what happens, no matter how long you decide to play that music, I will hold these memories in my soul forever, and treasure them the rest of my days.

Spencer, you are such a brave, smart, funny, kind, compassionate, strong-willed young man. I know that there are struggles you have, but I know they are things you can and will work through.  

I pray that in the coming year, you really begin to see, feel, and honestly believe just how great a person you are.  I know that you know God holds you dear, but I hope you really, truly feel your value to Him, to your family, to your friends, and to the world.  I know that it’s easy to be hard on yourself and to think negative things, and I just pray that you are able to see that those negative things that come into your mind some times are not true, and that you are in fact all of the good things I have declared just now.  You can do hard things. You will do great things. You will leave this world a better place.  I just know it.

I pray that as you are older, you find it in your heart to not take offense if others say or do things that affect you in a negative way.  I pray that you are always quick to forgive, able to see when you may have not been the kindest or have caused offense, and quick to apologize for those situations with utmost sincerity.  In a world that is full of confusion and chaos, it will get you far in life, and you will stand out among the crowd genuine and sincere.  I pray that you are able to continue to see the good in others and find ways to help when someone needs it.  I have seen you do this so much this year already, and I just hope that that part of you continues to strengthen. I know it’s hard to do the right thing sometimes, but I pray that you’ll hear God’s voice and feel Him help you along in those difficult situations.

I love you, Spencer.   I love your hugs and snuggles, tucking you in and kissing your forehead. I hope we can hold onto them for at least another year.  I hope that, despite the many bumps in the road that have gotten us to this day, that you have had a wonderful first decade with me. I hope you can look back on each year that you have memories, and see that you were loved.  I hope you can see that you’ve had joy and laughter all along, despite the days of tears and heartache. I pray that the good will always outweigh the not as good memories in your mind.  

I cannot wait to see what this next year brings for you.  There are beautiful things on your horizon.  

Thank you for the decade of love, grace, mercy, and memories.

You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I am so glad you’re mine.

I love you.

-Mom

The Ravine

You find yourself teetering the cliff of darkness, pulled away from falling inward by focusing upward instead of down into the pit.  As long as you know where to look, you will be safe.

Sometimes, you have to remind yourself every couple of seconds to look up instead of down, and it’s an exhausting battle for your focus.  It is so much easier to look downward when the weight inside your mind feels like a bushel of stones.  It’s such a heavy burden to carry sometimes.

You realize how close you could be to falling, as a slight falter in your footing knocks a pebble, and as you listen you cannot hear it reaching the bottom.  You realize the cliff is much higher than you can comprehend and if you topple, you do not know if you will ever quit falling.   

Sometimes, you don’t see yourself at the cliff until you’re in that balancing act, having slowly wandered on your way, led there without necessarily realizing it until you’re already at the brink, or maybe you have been traipsing about endlessly, trying to navigate through thick and murky fog, only to realize where you’ve ended up as you are flirting with the gravity lurking before you.  You know that you’re one small misstep from falling, so you try to keep your body still while your head spins around to ascertain where exactly you are in relation to where you began.  

How did you get there?  What lured your steps this way?

You look up again.  You know where to look.  You position yourself the slightest degree, and plant one foot firmly in front of the other.  You know where you belong.  You will not succumb to the ravine.

Sound familiar?

When I wrote that the other night, I saw the ravine as just a dark pit of endless negative thoughts.  I have experienced that ravine before and I have fallen continuously into it for days on end sometimes.  I have always been able to find my way back to where I am centered and focused, thank the Lord.

Admittedly, it’s been a rough year for not only myself but thousands of others.  

I have found in my own life experiences, mentally and emotionally, my nights can be much tougher than my days.  As I lay awake, alone in the dark during those night-time trials, I can feel my spirit weighted down when my thoughts start plummeting.

I have faith in God.  I know He is always with me.  Always.  In fact, I have been blessed with visions or dreams of Him alongside me living out my day to day life.  

But, I am human, I am broken and made whole, but I still struggle sometimes.

Lately, it seems more than I have in months or maybe even years past (and I have had quite a collection of rough years).  I think a lot of it has to do with the loneliness of isolation and quarantine during a pandemic.  I have spent months inside these walls with my children.

While living in isolation, the first two months, I was more open and honest about my thoughts and emotions. I was more willing to talk about what I was thinking or feeling at any given moment.  I was more aware that if I was becoming closed off, I should speak out.  I wrote more for myself and publicly.  I talked on the phone more, even though I have a hard time staying focused on phone conversations.  I cried to more friends.

This time, it has been much harder for me.  I found myself thinking, “here we go again” and not wanting to burden or bother anyone.  I found myself reaching out to people less and less, and as the pandemic surges all around all of us, I don’t even know that I realized it was happening and I certainly did not expect anyone else to notice.

It’s been tough. 

But I’m aware of it now, and that’s step one.  Step two is opening up about it and inviting someone in.  

I want you to know that in the world we’re experiencing right now, whether you believe in God and hold fast to Him as I do, and know He’s always right there and catching your tears even if you don’t feel or see Him, 

Or you don’t,

That it’s okay to admit when you’re struggling.  

It’s okay to get help.

It’s okay to ask others to help you see the joy inside of you.  It’s okay to have others to help you find your hope.  It’s okay to ask others to help guide and anchor you.

Don’t let your perceptions of yourself and the perceptions of the world stop you.

I also venture to say it’s okay to call a friend who you think might be struggling even if they don’t see it themselves.  Sometimes, you will crack that heart wide open and the first steps of the journey can begin.

“In his kindness God called you to share in his eternal glory by means of Christ Jesus.  So after you have suffered a little while, he will restore, support, and strengthen you, and he will place you on a firm foundation.”  1 Peter 5:10. (NLT)

I will celebrate me.

 

Today, I turned 37.  

This past year, as many know, has been quite a year.  I’ve had “quite a year” multiple years in the recent past, where I find myself, on my birthday, reflecting on the year and on birthdays past.  There’s been some real long journeys, many trials, plenty of struggles, and even more perseverance.

This past year has seemed much longer than most years before it, with six long months being spent battling covid-19 and some of it’s lasting effects on my body. If yo know me well or have seen me in “real life” over the last six months, there’s a good chance you’ve noticed.  I try to take it on with a smile, but some days are just tough.  This past week, especially has been a tough one. As much as I would like to try to explain why that is, the truth is that I just don’t really know.  I believe realizing the loneliness that I find myself living through is a portion of it.  Knowing that people out there love me, but cannot be around me, is a difficult thing, especially on a birthday.  Time drags on, for certain, when you spend weeks and months in isolation.   Having my children around during isolation and quarantine (for endless weeks this year) is a blessing, but also, if I’m being honest, can wear on a person when you’re all four stuck within the same walls day after day.

As I have been reflecting on this past year of my life and what it has transpired to be, I remembered, back in February, at a women’s conference at my church, that during personal prayer, dear friends spoke over me that perhaps, this year is a year to be still.  I might slow down and see what God is speaking to me, pray over and wait to hear what plans He has for my life.    I had no idea that only two months later, I would be in for one of the longest “still” journeys I’ve had in my life.

I’ve spent hours in prayer, in worship, in tears, in conversations with God, in online Bible studies, online church, trying to be in touch with his whispers and songs to me.  Looking back, I can see the quarantine has been a blessing when it comes to being still.

It’s been a lonely year, too.  I have voiced before multiple ways it’s been hard on the body, the spirit, the mind, and how strange the world feels to me during this pandemic.  

As life would have it, not only was I infected with covid-19 in March, but I because ill again at the end of September, testing positive for the virus yet again.  Because the wear on my immune system was fairly intense the first time, again, it took weeks for the fever to subside, and guidelines for quarantine have us home again.  I join Norah in having a quarantine birthday this year, meaning there aren’t parties (not that I have birthday parties, but she enjoys them each year, or need fanfare and celebratory events) or hugs from family and friends.  Thankfully, the weather was great this morning, and we were able to quarantine out in nature a while.  Norah woke me up with a “Happy Birthday” yell in my face and presented me with a book filled with art she created for me as a birthday gift from her heart.  

As I continued to reflect on my year, it hit me hard last night, that despite the isolation of my birthday this year, one thing is for certain- this is a birthday worth celebrating.  I was very sick at the beginning of the year, and there was potential to be quite sick again on my birthday today.  God carried me and my children through both of those storms, and I am here, today, to turn 37.

Another dear friend text me earlier today, when I was opening up about this past week and how it was hard on me in various ways.  She said “ask Papa God what He thinks of you.”

So, as we walked along the trail, struggling a little for breath, pressure building in my chest, I asked Him.

He reminded me that I am an Overcomer.  He treasures me, because I am worthy, I am important, and I will do amazing things with my life, even if I don’t always see it.  I have more days ahead to live out His love.

That’s something else to celebrate.  I told the same friend last week, “I get through stuff.”  It’s what I do.  And God always has been faithful to help me find the peace, the joy, the light, even in dark parts of the journey.  This past year was no different, and this next year will be the same.

So, today, I am taking a few quiet moments to rejoice in my own birthday, to celebrate another year well lived, and to embrace the quiet joy I find in my spirit amidst the valley we are making our way through.  I will celebrate me, because I am worthy of celebration.

Beauty from Ashes

“He will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair.  In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory.”  Isaiah 61:3 NLT

 If you know me personally, you are likely to know that on March 31, 2020, I tested positive for COVID-19.  I have yet to write a detailed post on that, although it’s been on my mind to chronicle my journey medically because the stories are still helping others to fight that battle.  It was a long journey.  I was sick with a fever and persistent symptoms for over six weeks.  I had COVID-19 turn into pneumonia, and shortly after returning to work for a handful of days, I came down with bronchitis which knocked me down and out for another two weeks.  I battled almost all of the symptoms, and while I was fortunate enough to be able to fight the illness off at home, there were a few nights I was not sure I would survive it, many nights I could hardly sleep, multiple nights I was quite scared because I could hardly breathe to walk a few steps, and many, many nights after I would wake up in a panic unable to breathe, or feeling like while I was sleeping I was also suffocating with a lack of oxygen.  I had terrible, migraine like headaches for weeks on end, body pain like I had never experienced before, and so many more issues.  I was contacted a week or so into the illness to ask if when I recovered I would be willing to donate plasma with COVID-19 antibodies (convalescent plasma) and I said definitely.  But they said I needed to be recovered first. I tried multiple vitamins, supplements, antibiotics, and rescue inhaler just to keep on going.  My kids were terrified many nights that I was going to die.  They thanked God that I didn’t almost every night for multiple weeks.

After the six weeks of fever, I realized I still had shortness of breath, cough, headaches, body aches, exhaustion, fatigue, joint pain, muscle pain, nerve pain, and it felt like I was going to have a heart attack more often than I care to remember.  I was considered recovered, but also not considered really recovered. Every time they would call I would still be coughing.  That was the main thing in their mind.  I had to stop coughing and I had to be done with the shortness of breath.

In the middle of July, I had another follow up appointment.  All of my bloodwork came back within normal ranges, with kidney function levels at the very cut-off for the low end of normal range.  But, I still had fevers.  I still had nerve pain.  I still had chest pain and shortness of breath.  My heart was constantly racing when I was awake.

My EKG that day was fine so I wore a Holter monitor for 24 hours to see if it would catch the tachycardia and palpitations I felt.

It did, but I wasn’t considered “bad enough” to need further testing.  I was placed on a beta blocker for the tachycardia (my heart rate exceeded 150 for normal daily activities) and an anti-convulsant for the nerve pain.  I was still coughing, exhausted, in pain, with random spikes in fevers, and always, always tired.

In the middle of August, my cough seemed to mostly disappear.  It’s now the beginning of September and my cough is very rare.  I actually only notice it when I over exert myself, or when I miss my dose of beta blocker.  When I miss my beta blocker dosage, the tachycardia and palpitations come back.  I still have nerve pain, every single day, usually now located only in my hips and legs.  It’s tolerable because I’m used to it.  It’s definitely less on the medication, but it hasn’t disappeared.

I am still exhausted so easily.  My muscles are still rebuilding and hurt and ache.  I still get headaches pretty frequently, and I have some days with really intense brain fog where I feel like a fool.   I rarely wake up in a panic that I am unable to breathe, but I always sleep holding a pillow because I can’t handle the pressure of my arms crossing in my sleep.  I have random days were there are minutes of blurry vision I for no reason.  I already said it, but I’m always tired.  Last week I napped every day and still felt exhausted.  My blood levels are still normal and so there’s no documented “reason” for any of it, other than lingering effects of a long battle with Covid-19.

I still have healing left to do, but I am so thankful that I am where I am after what feels like an eternity.

However, last week, after months of battling, because my cough was finally considered to be gone, I was able to go into the hospital and donate convalescent plasma.  I was nervous that day because I haven’t been inside a medical facility without a fever in months.  My heart rate was always way too high, and so was my blood pressure, and I was not sure if I would pass the vitals check that day.  Thanks to the beta blocker, I was able.

It was going well, but about halfway through, the needle pierced through both sides of my vein. There was an instant bubble and blood leaking, and I had to stop early.  I was able to fill a few bags almost halfway, which is better than nothing at all.   I am still recovering with quite an unsightly bruise with some swelling and pain, but I will gladly do it again if and when I’m able.

I had said from the beginning of my battle, I just hoped something good would come from my journey.  I wanted to bring hope.  And now that I am closer to healed than months before, I am hopefully able to take my fight with the taunt of death and give someone the hope for life.

Finally, beauty from the ashes.