Shall I play for you...

It’s one in the morning on Christmas Day and I am sitting down to write.  I need to be up in roughly 4 hours so we can have our Hamm family Christmas together since Lance has to leave around 630.  I should be going to bed since I am no longer cleaning the house and preparing for tomorrow but instead I’m writing.  I’m not a fast writer either.  God often puts something on my heart to write and as I sit down He gives me more and then there is scripture searching and sometimes by the end, what has been written is not at all what I initially thought I was supposed to write about.  So, it’s a process and one that will keep me up later than I should but it’s all for the glory of God and He will sustain me, right?  Right.  

I have been anticipating the reaction to Gabe seeing his paw patroller since I first purchased it.  If you have seen any of our past Christmas morning videos then you know he is pretty animated and thankful.  His expression is so full of joy and it makes everything all worth while.  I still probably beam more than he simply because I love that he is so excited.  And now he is three. This is the first year where he has really asked for something so specific.  He has asked for a tree in the past and a train but never so specific.  The magic of Christmas shall be in full force come 5AM in the Hamm’s house. 

So as I finished cleaning up and setting up the gifts and was thinking about that joy, I began thinking of Gideon.  Every year I wish Jesus a happy birthday, tell him to kiss my boy for me and pray that my friends and family will be accepting to the pursuit of Jesus.  Because every year, I am overcome with JOY.  Joy that only comes from God.  Although  Gabe will make me happy and Gabe’s response will bring me joy, true joy comes from God.  The joy that allows me to live in the present, the joy that surpasses my loss and allows me to praise the one who made me, comes only from God.  Every year I am overcome with a deeper love for Jesus.  

So as I turned to Gideon and pictured what he would be doing here and what I would potentially be buying a blue eyed, chubby five year old, I turned back to what will he be doing in Heaven.  Everyday, I picture he looks at his gift, Jesus, and he just radiates with that joy that I see from Gabe on Christmas morning only exponentially more so.  And in return Jesus looks at him and beams with his heavenly love and joy.  It’s a beautiful picture.  I don’t picture presents and wrapping paper.  I picture Jesus and my son.  That’s enough.  That’s all any of us need.  Jesus is the reason for our season and although I love giving gifts and we love to play into Santa, I will not forget what our gifts represent and where our joy truly comes from.  

It was of course Christmas season when Gideon was born and he had colic, like the worst kind of colic.  And he also hated the carseat.  So, everyday after picking him up in Muskogee from the sitter's and driving home to BA, I would try to play music and sing to him to help console him.  Sometimes it would work and sometimes it wouldn't (typical colic).  There were two songs that tended to calm him more than any other thing and one of those was "Little Drummer Boy" by Jars of Clay.  To this day, no matter where I am, no matter which version, I instantly go back to those days riding in the back of that car.  Then I really listen to the lyrics and the Holy Spirit is stirred within me and I just get it.  When the world has become too much and I've lost my way, I again, just get it.  He wants me.  He wants the unedited/raw version of just me.  Little ol me.  Whatever my gifts are, whatever I bring to "play" is fine as long as I give him me.  His face beams for me and because of that love, yes, because he loved me first, I can and do beam for HIM.  

And there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And, lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them: and they were sore afraid. And the angel said unto them, Fear not: for, behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord. And this [shall be] a sign unto you; Ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger. And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God, and saying, Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men. --Luke 2:8-14

For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.--Isaiah 9:6

I pray this Christmas your heart will be open.  I pray you are filled with JOY and you accept the only gift that really matters, Jesus Christ.  

17 days old in this photo.  Play your drum for Jesus, little one.  Play your drum. 

He has done great things...

“ But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish...” --Isaiah 9:1

No gloom.  I repeat, no gloom.  NO.  GLOOM.  There it is in black and white.  No gloom.  I went to bed last night with a heavy heart.  My newsfeed was already filling with pictures and memories of Gideon.  The anticipation of his arrival and his debut flooded my timehop.  He is 5.  “A whole hand” as I tell every child I encounter when they tell me their age of 5.  A whole hand.  Unfair was all I could muster.  Unfair.  Unfair, that he could not be here with us.  Unfair, that he was taken too soon.  Unfair, that Gabe would never play with his brother this side of Heaven.  Unfair, that we bear this hurt.  I cried myself to sleep.  I woke searching to hear from God.  I woke searching for the comfort I can only find in Him.  I told Gabe of today’s activities and the cupcakes we will eat and the birthday song we will sing. Gideon’s big blue eyes pierced my memory, flooded my thoughts.  

Then as we sat down and I dug into my devotional, searching to hear from God, He was again faithful.  First I read of Mary.  She can trust in God and focus on all that He has done or she can give into anxiety.  The weight she must have felt.  How easy to have lived in that fear and despair and question.  But Mary remembered the past.  She recalls the good things God has done and she focuses on the promises that are to be fulfilled in the birth of her son.  Focus on the promise.  Not on the rhetoric.  Focus on what is to come, not in the present circumstance.  She chooses to sing a song of praise to God...

“for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name.”--   Luke 1:49

As we came home, I continued to search.  Advent calendar reading it is.  I open in and these are the first words for today...

 The chapter heading: For to Us a Child is Born.  The first verse:

“ But there will be no gloom for her who was in anguish...” --Isaiah 9:1

Ah, I’m hearing you God.  There is your voice.  There are your words. Here I am in anguish.  there I was in anguish and it’s okay to be in aguish but there will be no gloom.  No gloom.  Your son has come....

“For unto us a child is born, to us a child is given; and the government shall be upon his shoulder, and his name shall be called Wonderful Counselor, Might God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” --Isaiah 9:6

When I hear the story of Christmas, this is my favorite part.  o triumphant.  So glorious.  Filled with good news.  He is born.  He has come.  He is Holy.  

He is the same.  Yesterday.  Today.  Tomorrow.  His promises are true and they do not change.  He is mighty.  He has done great things.  he has done great things for me.  He will continue to do great things.  He will continue to do great things for me.  For us.  For my family.  For your family.  And HOLY is HIS name.  AND there my focus is turned to HIM.  Not until now while writing this did it truly go back to Him as I have cried off and on all morning and I’m sure more will fall throughout the day, but not until now did that focus go from our grief and back to His holiness.  I have never missed anyone more than I miss Gideon.  But I have never felt more in awe of and more loved by anyone more than God.  The birth of Jesus gives me goosebumps.  He came.  He is alive.  He came for me.  He came for you.  He came for Gideon.  He holds Gideon today in his arms and He sings songs with him and he smiles down and tell me there is no gloom and I am reminded that He has done great things for me.  Great things.  

I pray this Christmas that you will hear the story of the birth of Jesus and your heart will be touched and you will be filled with an adoration of our Heavenly father and you will turn to Him.  Rejoice, because He has come.  No matter what Satan tries to take away, no matter what Satan intends for destruction, He has come.  He makes all things new.  

Thank you Lord for not just cleaning me up.  Thank you for making me new.  Thank you for loving me, even when I hang out in anguish.  Thank you for knowing my heart.  Thank you for giving me your words, your promises so I can be reminded of that hope in you.  Thank you for dancing and singing with my son today.

Why blue eyed babies make my heart skip a beat...

Fear and awe...

'Do you not fear Me?' declares the LORD 'Do you not tremble in My presence? For I have placed the sand as a boundary for the sea, An eternal decree, so it cannot cross over it. Though the waves toss, yet they cannot prevail; Though they roar, yet they cannot cross over it. --Jeremiah 5:22

We are on our way to visit our friends...sun and ocean. I am a lover of the warmth and can't wait to dip my toes in that salty sweetness and feel the waves pull and tug. But I have to confess, the ocean scares the crud out of me. When I sit on the beach and look out at the vast unknown before me, this panic stirs within. I love cruises but to be honest, being out in the middle of all of that surrounding blue brings a bit of fear. We entrust this hunk of metal that weighs tons with 10x10 rooms stacked upon one another to keep us afloat. But at the same time as I have this fear stirring within me, I have this desire to see more, to GO more. 

As we head out to Aruba for our getaway, I know I will sit on the beach and feel that pit in my stomach.  It's this feeling of utter overwhelm.  The immense water whose border is beyond what I can see. The sharks and the crashing waves that could take my life. The creepy, hidden things that no one has even discovered. The world that lives below the surface. Yes, I like having the borders of the pool, of the lake and the ocean gives me only one border, the beach I stand on (and even sometimes no border as you cruise across on the multi ton ocean liner). 

So yes, it puts this slight panic inside. I know I am little in comparison and I have no power when it comes down to it. When I come to the ocean, I approach it with reverence. This is the same way I approach God.  

The ocean is not out to get me but I know what it's capable of (at least a small portion). And God isn't out to get me but again I know what He is capable of and I approach Him with a fear and awe.  And today, as I stand on that beach and look out, I won't be able to not think of God and His power.   He could have sent us to Hell but He created a way for us to be with Him. He could have started over but again, He loved us enough to wait on us. So when I think of God, I don't think, "you could take me out right now".  But instead, I think "you are so powerful and perfect and you LOVE me. You SAVED me".   So I will embrace you and let your love wash over me like the waves wash over me and I will bask in your love as I will bask in the sun. I will stand on that shore and choose to feel the glee that overcomes the panic as I will stand in your presence and choose to feel that love that overcomes my sin. 

"I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground."

The waves and wind still know...

So let go my soul and trust in Him; the waves and wind still know His name.

I have never been one to be competitive in life except for when it came to school.  But still, I was quietly competitive.  I remember in grade school, we had “math blasts” where we were given a sheet of equations and the first to finish with the most correct won.  Oh, I wanted to win so badly.  I was speedy.  I don’t even remember what the prize was.  the prize wasn’t what I wanted so it didn’t matter.  I wanted to be the best.  But there was one girl who consistently beat me.  Every. Single. Time.  Her name was Michelle Montgomery.  Funny thing about Michelle is she actually precepted me during my nurse externship in the NICU when I thought I still wanted to  be a neonatal nurse practitioner and she is now a neonatal nurse practitioner.  Anywho, back to math blasts.  I wanted to beat her bad!  Math blast after math blast, she would finish just before I wrote my final answer until finally one day I beat her.  It was a glorious victory and I bounced with joy, on the inside of course because I’m an introvert.  Maybe its the fault of math blasts that I am a speedy test taker...?  

This theme of having to be the best continued throughout school age.  I never cared if I made the basket, hit the ball or ran the fastest but it was always important to make an A.  It was pleasing to my parents for me to do well in school.  I graduated in the top of my class.   This continued through my college days, when I was a teller, a tech, a nurse, through grad school.  i wanted to be the best at what I was doing.  I wanted to be the best at using my brain.  Does that sound weird?  Well, you know what I mean.  And I loved school.  i was good at it.  But not only good at the study stuff and test stuff but with the application piece as well.  The good student, the good employee, that was who I was.  So now go back to me beginning at the PEC.  The primary care stuff was easy peasy.  But when it came to the acute care, I was a little fish in a big pond.  My peer is so unbelievably brilliant and then again these doctors.  That pride piece in me was becoming deflated.  So, why not go back and learn and gather all of the information in one huge block of mandatory time.  I could do it.  i would do well. Well, the problem with that is that even when you graduate med school, you don’t have all of the information.  Even when you finish residency, you don’t have all of the information.  You are definitely prepared but you still have things to learn and you never stop learning.  But the even bigger problem with that plan is it isn’t what God wants for me.  

Dr. Brandi Hamm is not the plan that God has for me.  Almost as soon as I posted my blog last week declaring to the world my struggle, my temptation, God began showing me where I am to be.  When I went to pick Gabe up from school, he was sick.  When he was being walked over by his teacher, he looked pale.  He was moving slow.  No smiles.  He looked tired. No ‘hi mom”.  As she loaded him in the car, she told me that he just began feeling ill and asked to be held because his leg hurt.  She thought he felt a little warm.  As we drove away, i reached my hand back to feel his head and he was hot.       i looked back at him.  he was very pale.  I looked at his legs, gave a few squeezes.  i saw a few bruises.  Then mom who lost her three month old kicked in.  Cancer?  Septic joint?  Then rational mom came around, “I’ll just look at you when we get home.”  I carried him in.  His little body radiating heat.  103 fever, of course you look puny.  Ears clear, throat clear.  Lungs sound good.  Soft belly.  No abnormal bruising.  No joint swelling, redness or tenderness.  Still bearing weight.  So I gave him some motrin and put him down for a nap.  

10 minute car ride and couldn't keep his eyes open.

During the midst of his nap, I received some feedback to my med school blog.  I was given contact info to a female physician who had a three month old when she started med school and had another girl during her third year of school.  I scanned her blog.  She had helpful mommy/school tips.  She had been on vacations.  She seemed to be making family time and school time really work.  She called me shortly before Gabe woke from his nap.  That was a God orchestrated conversation.  She scared me.  She scared me to no end.  I hung up the phone with my jaw dropped.  She told me how she would see her 3 month old on Monday night and then not again until Thursday night.  She told me how her husband does all of the car pooling and any school activity.  Her husband also had to quit his job for 6 months so they could just keep things together and flowing.  She had also contemplated quitting but had it not been for the debt she had already racked up and just the determination of just doing the thing that she had always wanted to do she probably would have.  If made to do it again, she would not go back to school.  And she said it was really common theme with others in her program because she felt like she was the only one questioning but she was really surprised how many others were unhappy.  So yes, I got off the phone with her and immediately went to tell Lance, who by this time was holding Gabe, that I would not be attending school.  But then we talked it out as I snuggled Gabe.  Maybe her priorities are different than mine. I know some people who manage to keep active within the church and within their family.  So I was back on the fence when I went to bed.  Then 0645 rolls around.  Lance has left for work.  I worked 12-12 and Gabe is crying out.  He usually wakes around 830-9 but here he was crying and ready to get up.  He still has a slight fever but he seems comfortable but he is done with sleeping.  Again, I hear you God.  This is what it will be like.  I just want to go back to bed.  I want my child to be well.  I want him to go back to sleep.  Nope.  Not going to happen.  And this is what med school would look like.  trying to get in a few extra hours of sleep while the newborn needs to be fed and changed and needs attention.  Or trying to study during those quiet morning hours when Gabe decides he is done and wants out of bed.  Then there are other things, like the fall festival, book fair and mom and muffin events at school that I would miss out on.  Then I had good conversation with some friends where i could just talk it out.  You realize how stupid something sounds when you say it out loud for others to hear you...  It doesn’t make sense.  God has blessed me with a great education.  he has blessed me with a flexible job.  And more importantly, He has told me time and time again I am made to be mom.  And in 5 years, I will have debt paid and even more flexibility.  I am also encouraged when I hear other women physicians tell me that their goal is not work as much either but to stay home with their children.  

We had community group last night and let me tell you, this semester has been awesome.   Our lesson teaching leader got held up at work so another leader stepped in and taught.  he spoke about jesus being tempted and just before leaving I was able to share how I continued to be tempted with this desire to go and further my education, all while racking up ore debt and missing out on all of those “firsts”.  God set it again in my heart that it’s not the path for me. 

“O Lord God of hosts,

    who is mighty as you are, O Lord,

    with your faithfulness all around you? 

You rule the raging of the sea;

    when its waves rise, you still them.”  Psalm 89:8-9

Oh God, you are faithful.  As in the days of Gideon, the days of Noah, you continue to be faithful.  As I continue to turn to you, forget your promise, your commands, you are faithful to bring me back and show me your ways.  As I wrestle with the same lie, the same sin of pride that tempted Eve in the garden, that tempted Jesus in the wilderness, I thank you for the everlasting truth that you are faithful.  You have the power to calm the storm, to calm the waves, come and calm my soul, Lord. 

I have heard that children are resilient, that school is only for a season and although I know all mean well.  This is what goes through my mind.  I don’t say it because then things get awkward... but yes, kids are resilient except when they die.  And then it’s not the resiliency of the child that I am worried about.  It is instead mine.  There is no doubt in my mind that Gideon felt loved everyday of his life.  But I missed out on so much.  Me.  Not him.  It’s my resiliency.  let me make it clear, that I do not live in fear but God showed me His plan for us after we lost Gideon and through our life we will continue to hold tup what we think we want and see how it holds true to that promise and plan.  If through the death of our son i was able to hear from God and not have any change in my life then it is all for not.  It is not all for not. 

I want more of this.  More pumpkin town.  More smiles.  More giggles.  More snuggles.  

What's your temptation?

…and we thought we knew...

“An intelligent heart acquires knowledge,

    and the ear of the wise seeks knowledge.” --Proverbs 18:15

Shortly after I graduated high school I moved away to Florida.  I had received a few scholarships to local schools but life was taking me elsewhere.  I didn’t go to college right away and instead took a job at The Bank of America.  Florida living is expensive.  I was quickly promoted to Teller Manager and transferred to another location.  I was 18 years old and managing women almost three times my age who had been doing this job for almost as long as I had been walking this earth.  I remember it being fun and aggravating and a lot of hours.  I remember flying back to see my family and while on the plane I was reading a book.  I had tons of books packed and it was a time when I could barely put them down.  I remember talking to the Tulsa Ballerina sitting next to me as I started to explain how odd it was for me to be reading any book that wasn’t a textbook.  Throughout school I rarely read anything that wasn’t a requirement.  But since graduating I had this hunger for knowledge that couldn’t be quenched.  I knew that working in a bank was not what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.  I had stood up at our Senior Tea and declared that I was going to be a Neonatal Nurse Practitioner and I needed to get started on that.  I still do not know who told me about nurse practitioners but that’s what I was going to be.  I knew it was time for me to get started.  My journey twisted and turned but I finally made it as an NP, only the pediatric kind. 

And now here I am, 6 years post graduation.  Whoa, 6 years out from graduating graduate school.  And again I have that unquenchable desire.  Lance and I have been throwing around the idea of me going back to school.   Let’s stop there.  There will be two types of people who read this and I can see they will probably be at polar opposites.  One group will say “that’s ridiculous” and the other would say “go get it.”   Or maybe those are the polar opposites that continue to play out in my head.  But here it is: I want to go to med school.  That’s right, med school.  I have been going back and forth for the past two years since starting my job in the ER and working in direct relationship with a few of the brightest minds out there.  I want that.  It excites me.  I want to possess that knowledge.  I don’t care about the pay or the title, (although to pay for school, I would need to make more money in the end) but I really just want the knowledge. 

But then on the flip side, I want to be mom.  I want to be wife.  med school would cause me to miss out on so much more than i already do.  I would not have the flexibility and freedom for t-ball, swim, the pumpkin patch, nap time snuggles and all of the other things that I enjoy taking him to or engaging with him in.  And let’s not get started on having another baby.    If I continue on an NP then we will have all of our debt paid off in 5 years.  If i go back to school then it will end up costing us almost a million dollars in the cost of school, interest and missed wages from having to quit my job for so many years.  I don’t mind the schoolwork, the long hours, the endless lectures.  I love school life.  I love late night cram sessions,  I love learning.  Then I thought, well i could just learn the content.  There is limitless university lectures online and a plethora of books and study material at my fingertips.  Lord, I even have pediatric board test prep books.  But I’m the type of person who needs to sit in a lecture and take notes.  Ample notes.  I require the structure of lecture and then as we all know we need that application piece.  If I learn something but then do not have the opportunity to apply it then it gets lost in the sea of random facts that may or may not be found when needed.  

I received an Np magazine yesterday in the mail.  On the cover a title read “NP to MD: Is it Worth it?”  and I was overjoyed.  More info.  More information to help me decide what is best.   But as i read through the article it told of a woman who was an empty nester who racked up 390,000 dollars in education loans to go to a traditional school and then of another woman who had her school paid for by a patient of hers in clinic and who went to a non-traditional school.  She went to Oceania University and did online classes for her first two years as she continued to work full time.  ...which neither of those stories really helped me.  i would have to pay my own tuition and we still have children at home.   The last woman in the article did say something that I am sure will make some of my NP friends a bit upset but I agree completely:

“I can understand why NPs in Missouri still must work collaboratively: There is still so much to learn.  I was an NP for years, and i was very good at what I did.  yet I have learned oceans and chasms and Grand Canyons full of things I did not know before.”  

I want that.

 So then I kick myself and wonder why I never even thought about going to med school before now.  People would ask if I was going to become a doctor throughout my nursing education.  I always belted out this resounding “no”.  I never imagined myself being a physician.  But now, here I am.  Here I am wanting to soak it all in.  Here I am tinkering with the idea.  I have requested my transcripts. I have studied for the MCAT.  Here I am waiting for God to show me, to tell me, to guide me.  I wait on the Lord.  And while I wait, I continue to enjoy freedom.  Gabe woke up twice last night in a fearful crying state.  Nightmares.  I went to comfort him and hold him.  I sang as many “Bless the Lord’s” and Silent Nights” as he wanted.  If I go to school, will I even have the energy to sing to him once?  I made his lunch this morning as he played around before school.  There was no rush, no prepackaged prepared food going in his pail and I enjoy that.  I drop him off almost everyday and on days that I do not work, I pick him up.  We play a lot.  We share a lot.  These are things that I would miss for many years.  

So here I am, waiting.  Waiting for God to show me a way or to put out the flame and show me something else.  

Waiting.  Living.  But waiting.  

“From of old no one has heard

    or perceived by the ear,

no eye has seen a God besides you,

    who acts for those who wait for him.” --Isaiah 64:4 

Gideon!

   

Pour over me...

“...I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.”John 16:33

I’m not typically a fan of female singers.  I’m not sure exactly why.  It could be that their pitch is often too high, their voice too soft but I often catch myself skipping through my female counterparts and stopping on the men of music.  That is, until I find the girl with more “oomph” in her voice.  Possibly a little ruggedness, a little hurt, a little harshness...  When I first heard Lauren Daigle’s “How Can It Be” I remember pulling into the garage around one in the morning from work and just being in awe as I sat there until it had finished.  I had failed to look her up on iTunes until many weeks later after attending a concert she had performed at.  She was amazing, stunning really and she had this huge sound that came from this petite frame.  And even more importantly she continued to pray over us between her songs, calling for revival, for the Spirit to come, for change within us.  I downloaded her album that night.  I listen to it daily.  Every song is play worthy but one song in particular leaves me in tears and is my battle cry, my surrender, my life song all in one...

 Once and For All...

God I give You all I can today

These scattered ashes that are hid away 

I lay them all at Your feet

From the corners of my deepest shame

The empty places where I've worn Your name

Show me the love I say I believe

O Help me to lay it down

Oh, Lord I'll lay it down 

O let this be where I die

My Lord with thee crucified

Be lifted high as my kingdom fall

Once and for all, once and for all

There is victory in my saviors loss

and In the crimson flowing from the cross

Pour over me, pour over me

I lay it at your feet.  Show me Your love.  Help me.  Let me die to self.  Let me glorify You as my kingdom falls.  There is victory.  Pour over me.  Pour over me, Lord.  It’s an anthem of sorts.  

I sing it from the depths of my soul.  i scream it out.  I sometimes sob it out through streaming tears.  

Fear.  Humiliation.  Loss.  Longing.  

Missing old friends, old community groups where we got down to the nitty gritty...where we laughed, we loved and we ate some of the best food out there, missing weekly Driscoll sermons, missing Gideon, making mistakes in the workplace, worrying about how maternity leave will play out. 

You see, community group is this backbone for me.  It’s not just this thing that I do.  It’s where I get together with people who love Jesus like I do, people who I love and it’s what helps hold things together.  It’s not necessarily me bringing my cries to the group but taking what we experienced in the group and letting that lead me into a conversation with Christ, a deeper study, a richer soul.  I love Sunday mornings.  I love singing praise and worship.  I love scripture.  I don’t always love the themed sermons but I love the message.  But on Sunday, there’s no dialogue.  There’s no time for questions and answers.  There is no circling, holding hands, praying for fellowship and breaking of bread.  There’s no prayer requests.  No praises.  But unfortunately we have been out of group as our church suspends them during the summer and even in past semesters, either our jobs or vacation or sickness within the group has caused us to be absent.  So I long for those home group nights, those relationships.  I long for the things of yesteryear.  

....and there it is. The things of yesteryear.  Longing for those things that once were instead of living in the now.  

The joys of being a child.  Running around the trees.

Lately, I have been missing Gideon more and more.  Two of my friends have boys that are the same age as Gideon.  They started pre-K this year.  It was so sweet to see their first day of school photos yet it cut like a knife.  How would he have been in school?  How would he differ from Gabriel.  How would they be the same?  How would they get along?  I was thankful that Gabe was starting preschool so we could live in that moment for awhile and hold back the hurt of never experiencing so many firsts with our first the best we could.  

Enjoying the sounds of the chimes.  

Then thinking about him makes me think about our next and how will maternity leave work out?  Like all of Oklahoma women who do not have an EIB (extended illness bank), the thought of going without a real check for so long can wreak havoc on the nervous system.  Then a few days ago I was faced with the realization that I will also have to pay for my health insurance premium while I am off work.  Yuck.  Here I was just worried about paying for the regular list on my spreadsheet and now there is this added cost.  I’m not trying to gripe.  I am again thankful to have a job, to have insurance but I still worry.  

Then there’s work but that’s a whole other beast and a whole other blog post.  I love it.  I’m not going anywhere but somedays are harder than others and it can wear on you...like any job.  

So here is why I need community group.  Here is why I need Christ.  Here is why I have been screaming out these words as I drive to and from work, as I stand in the kitchen cooking and cleaning.   

Though I have worry, though I face trials and tribulation.  You have overcome.  You. Have. Overcome.

Help me Lord to lay it down.  Help me to live in the now.  Help me to let go of the bitterness that sometimes creeps inside.  Lord, let me die to myself.  Let me glorify You.  Let me seek You.  Pour over me.  Pour. Over. Me.  

He's back where he belongs.  

Whatever you do….

"Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men"  --Colossians 3:23

My road to becoming a nurse practitioner started out in February of 1999, merely 3 months before my high school graduation.  My sister had her first son and he was admitted to the NICU for apnea.  He stayed there for two months.  It was there, standing at his incubator that my love for healthcare stemmed.  Previous to that experience, my career goal was always to be a lawyer.  God was good to give me another path as I sure do hate public speaking and drawing attention to myself but then again my husband says I make a good defense attorney.  And some days, I wonder if it would have been better had I gone that route versus the one I chose.  But I remember standing up at my senior tea and declaring to my graduating class that I was going to be a neonatal nurse practitioner.  I don’t really know how I even came about that title.  I definitely didn’t know any NNP’s.  I didn’t know a single nurse at all, let alone an advanced nurse practitioner.  Although I had met the physicians caring for my nephew, being the physician was never a role I saw myself playing.  Whether it be that subconsciously I didn’t think I could afford all of the costs of med school or it just wasn’t something I wanted to do, it never crossed my mind to be the doctor.  

I started my way from the bottom.  I became a tech while I was starting out.  I worked in nursing homes and the hospital.  When I moved back from New Jersey, I started my life at CMC.  This is where I met Dr. Coldwell and felt more of a true team than I ever had before.  Even as a tech, I was respected.  My limited assessment was important to the nurses and the physicians.  And I loved those kids.  But I continued on my path to becoming a NNP so I took an extern position in the NICU.  There was a particular doctor who made his bedside rounds and took the time to actually get to know us.  In my previous weeks, no one had even bothered to talk to me, let alone ask me my name.  But he did.  He also remembered my name when he saw me in clinical at a different site.  But he wanted to know how I thought the baby did throughout the night.  How have feedings been? Output? Vital signs?  I mentioned the infant slept with her eyes open and that prompted a Rx for eye ointment.  Then on day two, the same baby spiked a fever of 105.  Why?  He worked his differential with me at the bedside.  Amazing.  I was part of his team.  This is how healthcare should be.  Did I find fault in him for asking me my opinion as to what was going on?  Did I think he was incompetent because he just didn’t know what was happening?  No!  I found it rewarding.  But most of all I found it to be one of the stepping stones of my career.  This physician thought enough of the nurse (not me but the nurse at the bedside) to listen to her and ask her opinions and to work through what might be causing the symptoms with her.  This was a team and even more reason to continue on this path because I was being treated as an equal.  I ended up going back to CMC when I completed my externship because that is where my heart was.  I worked along Dr. Coldwell, another physician who wanted to know what we thought.  He trusted us--which means a great depth coming from a man who is a metabolic genetics guru.  This was the relationship that I wanted.  Healthcare is a team.  It wasn’t me against the techs or against the doctors.  But we worked together and opinions mattered.  Assessment findings mattered.  We collaborated.  I continued on working towards the PNP role with hopes of maybe one day returning to CMC in my new found position.  

But the doors had since closed on CMC and the hospitals treatment of physicians had become so poor that it was no longer an organization that I wanted to work for.  I had no desire to work in a hospital again.  So I chose my career in the clinic.  I was the primary healthcare giver of many children.  I loved it.  I could collaborate with the physician and other nurse practitioners within our clinic.  I could see children independently.  There were definite issues and barriers as the nurse practitioner role was (and is) still new in this part of the world.  I had parents who refused to see me.  I had specialists who refused to discuss a case with me.  I had parents who would leave and come back the next day to see the physician only to be told the same thing I told them the day before.  For the most part, the flack just rolls off your back.  But somedays it builds up.  

Somedays I find myself thinking, “why didn’t I go to med school so I could be that physician who cared what the NP had to say, what the nurse had to say, what the tech had to say and not just what the physician has to say?”  Why didn’t my experiences with Dr. Anderson and Dr. Coldwell lead me to be more like them and not simply more accepting that my career path would be accepted.  

I still have physicians who refuse to discuss a case with me, although I ordered the work up and it was my initial suspicion that led us to a surgical conclusion.  But most days I’m okay with that because they aren’t very fun to talk to anyways and I am easily intimidated.  I have residents who ask me which physician I checked out my admit to as if I am not capable of determining that the the vomiting/diarrhea 5 month old who has had 10 diarrheal stools for the day and it’s only 2 in the afternoon needs to be admitted for dehydration and IV fluids.  And I still hear how some will never take their child to the nurse practitioner.  And somedays it gets really old and it gets really old quick.  And I find myself searching through medical school admission criteria, taking practice MCAT exams and starting to fill out med school applications.  Because I’m tired of it.  Am I the physician?  No.  Do I pretend to know everything?  No. Will I correlate with my attending when I am at a loss of where to go next?  Yes.  Will I get a second opinion when I’m just not sure?  Yes.  Am I willing to say, that’s outside of my knowledge base?  Yes.  I’m that person because the alternative scares me.  So if I am on the phone with you telling you the child needs to be admitted it’s because I have either made the clinical decision that I have been trained well to make or I have discussed the case in detail with the attending doctor and we have came to that conclusion together.  And if you can’t have a conversation about the details of a case and a possible surgical outcome with someone who is not on your pay grade then you are a poor communicator and a terrible teacher.  

I don’t know if I will ever go back to school.  I don’t think you are ever too old.  i just don’t know if I will truly pursue that path or if I will just continue to let things roll off the best I can and develop a thicker skin.  I just hope that in my day to day, the nurses know that I respect them.  I hope the techs know that I respect them.  Everyone brings something to the table and I want you to share it and I want to hear it.  we are much stronger as a team than as an individual.  

let him not be ashamed...

“Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name.”  1 Peter 4:16

As I was scrolling through my TimeHop this morning I came across this little post...

I remember this day like it was yesterday.  Lance and I worked Monday through Friday and we missed out on some of the best moments Gideon had to offer.  Like almost every other baby, he was happiest in the morning.  He was colicky in the late afternoon/evening. I looked forward to Saturdays and Sundays with every inch within me.  Life slowed down on these days.  There was no where to be--with the exception of church.  We were able to fully enjoy one another.  I looked forward to waking up and seeing Gideon’s smiling face staring back at me.  He would eat and then we would move into the living room for mat and play time.  Lance would make coffee and toast either with the chocolate almond butter or with nutella.  So yum with the coffee.  I can still smell it.  Coffee, chocolate and baby smell!  We would just hang out all day.  When he was done with playing on the mat then we would move to laying him out-stretched on my legs and I talked to him and sang to him and often he would fall asleep here and then I would move him to his bouncer or to the corner of the couch on his blue printed boppy and cover him with a fuzzy blanket.  I remember telling Lance, this makes early morning rising all worth it.  We had a family groove and when we got that call a mere 3 days later, our lives would again never be the same.  

During our three days in the hospital and the months after, we often encountered the statement, “I don’t know how you are doing it.”  I never knew how to respond appropriately.  “By the grace of God” was the only thing I could ever get out.  it felt so cheesy to say though.  Just God.  God.  Only God.  God is sustaining us (insert nerdy laugh with Bible in hand looking to the sky).  Yep, that’s how I felt.  I wasn’t better than anyone.  I didn’t feel further in my walk.  I wasn’t holier.  I didn’t have an “in” with God.  But I felt weird saying that it was God getting me through.  i knew it was true but I felt like I was coming across as though I had just tapped into something others couldn’t have.  Like God and I were BFF’s and He just gave me the “best” half of our best friend necklace combo.  But why?  Why would I feel that way?  Our son was in critical condition.  Our son had died.  The one being that could have saved him allowed him to die for some reason that was greater than you and I.  And here I was, resting in Him and still feeling foolish for saying those words out loud.  And maybe there it was.  It was difficult to explain.  I had just experienced the most devastating tragedy in all of my days and the one who I place all of my hope in let me experience that loss but yet I still placed my hope in Him.  Those two sentiments...would you think I was crazy and would you think I was “more spiritual” than you if I spoke those words.  

As I sit and reflect over my memory from 4 years ago and this Bible verse for today, I am reminded that it is all for the Glory of God.  4 years ago, singing to our chunky newborn while eating our toast and drinking coffee was all for the glory of God.  Spending three days in the hospital in prayer, only to leave with an empty carseat was all for the glory of God.  I don’t always get it but I hope to never be ashamed of it.  I don’t understand and I never will this side of Heaven but I will glorify His name.  God is the reason I made it through.  God is the reason I make it through today.  by the grace of God, He freely gives.  By His promise I will see Gideon again.  By his goodness, I have a husband who adores me.  By his grace, I have Gabe.   

“Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed.  If you are insulted for the name of Christ, you are blessed, because the Spirit of glory[b] and of God rests upon you. But let none of you suffer as a murderer or a thief or an evildoer or as a meddler. Yet if anyone suffers as a Christian, let him not be ashamed, but let him glorify God in that name.” --1 Peter 4:12-16

I have shared in suffering and I know there will be more of various types to endure but I will rejoice and be glad in God’s glory.

Gabe is definitely lance's mini-me, but this blue eyed cutie is mine!  

Always planning.  Oh, the places we would go.

His blood has already overcame...

“They triumphed over him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.”  Revelation 12:11

I have spent the last three days at work.  I work a 12 hour shift that starts at noon.  It should end at midnight but sometimes, like last night, it doesn’t end until 1:30ish in the AM.  It makes for an exhausting day because not only did I stay almost 14 hours but something had to happen in that first 12 that made it impossible to complete all of my charting by the time midnight rolled around.  I had one of those days where you just couldn’t complete a thought.  I would set out to discharge “A” then “B” comes rolling through the door and then “C” is calling on the phone and so on.  And even though I had left 30 minutes before on what should only take a 10 minute trip, I was unable to get coffee since apparently 1130 on Saturday is when everyone wants their Flat White from Starbucks and there were lines out the door for the inside and around the building for the drive thru.  I felt tugged in every direction.  I felt unproductive, overwhelmed and poorly utilized.  I felt drained.  So this morning I was cranky.  I spent the entire ride to church griping about my yesterday.  I actually spent my entire morning that Lance and I were in ear shot of another griping about my yesterday.  (To which my husband replies, "you can always go back to seeing 4's and 5's, day in and out, one after another.  He's always good at pointing out my alternatives!")  We got to church late because I was too busy running my mouth to put forth the attention to being on time.  Then I get to church in time to hear the band play their last song before the sermon and this video plays....

21

...and tears just stream down my face.  Big tears.  Alligator tears.  My griping had been so futile.  My bad day was nothing in comparison to those surrendering their lives to hold true to their Jesus.  Then we sang.  

“We will overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of our testimony” and it sank in even more.  My bad day was nothing.  Alligator tears.  I didn’t just cry.  I wept.  i went to my knees and prayed.  I prayed for those families.  I prayed for those facing death because they will not renounce their faith.  I prayed for those Christians.  It was dirty y’all.  Snotty, big tear weeping in my church aisle.  

As God laid these 21 martyrs on my heart, I recalled other stories of martyrdom, some recent and some old.  I thought about those people who gave up their lives because of their faith in Jesus.  I’m here.  It doesn’t always sink in as deep as it should but today it hit me hard.  We are here and we get the occasional joke thrown at us about how believing is ridiculous or people gripe because “us Christians” are too intolerant and restrictive and we don’t know how to have fun.  And sometimes I gripe about the mockery that ensues but my God has big shoulders and I can find refuge in Him.  But this, this is hard to find refuge in.  Then the verse comes across the screen.  

“They triumphed over him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.”  Revelation 12:11

They did not shrink from death.  These 21 were barely men.  All 21 in their early to mid 20’s.  They had fled their country in search of food and work for their families.  They loved Christ.   They died because of only the last statement.  Could you imagine?  How easy for them to just say, “you know what, this whole Jesus thing isn’t worth it.  My atheist friends try to tell me I’m foolish anyways for believing in a super-being.  My co-exist friends tell me that we all just need to get along and I shouldn’t be so exclusive in my choice of religion.  Maybe they’re right.  Maybe it’s not worth dying over.”  But they didn’t.  Although they were kneeling, they stood in front of death and gave their life in the name of Jesus.    

Though my heart was breaking, my God’s resounding words were ringing true.  All is not lost.  There is no sting in death.  Hell has no victory.  Through the blood of the Lamb we will overcome.  OVERCOME.  

I pray the church will be revived.  I pray those words you see in the video.  “May their sacrifice lead our hearts to repentance.  May the blood of the martyrs, be the seed for a revived church.”    

Simplify…for your burden is heavy...

“There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil. This also, I saw, is from the hand of God...”   Ecclesiastes 2:24

Today is day one of 4 days off in a row, one of the many reasons I have come to love my job.  As I started to sit down and write this, I heard Gabe start coughing and making some noises.  I went in to check on him and he was full of snot and wanted to be rocked.  So we blew his nose and we rocked.  I love holding him anytime but I love holding him in the middle of the night.  He just lets me hold him.  No playing with a plane or my necklace or asking me questions.  He’s still.  He’s quiet.  I can soak all of his 2 year old self up.  I watch him as I hold him.  His small hand holding mine.  His blonde eyelashes against his cheeks.  His little body curled up in my lap, warm and cozied up, cradled and loved.  It’s moments like these that can’t be captured with a camera that I never want to forget.  

Our series at church continues with “Simplify”.  Today, our sermon was related to our work.   Are we finding fulfillment in our work?  Is our work beneficial?  This journey since losing Gideon has been paved with lots of speed bumps, peaks, valleys, cliffs... but God has continued to be faithful through it all.  Lance and I have struggled to find our fit and to maintain a balance within and outside of the home that would work for our family.  Lance recently went through a lengthy and very detailed hiring process to go back into law enforcement.  It amazed me as we sat down and talked why he ultimately left and chose professions to begin with.  We had talked about it and for many reasons we felt like he needed a change but ultimately he was sacrificing for me.  After losing Gideon, I never wanted to work again or at least not full time and barely part time.  I didn’t have any idea how I would ever find a job that would fit more of a stay at home mom schedule.  So Lance ultimately quit so that he could pursue a job where he could make more money so I would not have to work.  The only problem with that...Lance is made to be a police officer.  It is in his blood.  He loves it.  Proverbs 22:6 says, “Train a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not turn from it.” If you have ever heard Pastor Himaya talk about this then you know that this can be translated to “the way he is bent” relating to an archery term and meaning, for example, if your child is artistic, don’t push them to be a scientist when they grow up and et cetera.  And this is what I feel Lance was trying to do to himself and I didn’t even see it happening.  He does love science and learning more about the function of the human body but his passion is in police work.  And although he tried to focus on a bigger paycheck and medicine, he was still yearning for what he had left behind.  So in 22 days he will begin a career with a new department.  But I tell you, this past year and a half has not been for nothing.  I have a new job that allows me to be home more often but still allows me to practice medicine and care for sick babies and had he not left Muskogee, I probably would not have either.  He gained the college hours that he needed to qualify for his current department and now he will be closer to home.  I can’t argue with any of those perks and I know the boulders in the road have been worth it!   

We talked about our skills, passion and opportunities and how when those come together we find our sweet spot.  One day, I dream I will be able to go on that mission trip to Egypt and I know I will then be able to use all of those medical skills and passions I have inside of me but until then I get to use them here at work.  But there is more to that sweet spot and “work” than just your work.  If you have ever come to a party of Gabe’s or came over for an after church gathering, you may have noticed that I love to be in the kitchen.  I love to cook, to bake and to party plan.  I enjoy seeing everyone with full bellies, going for more, laughing and talking.  I love seeing the kids playing and having fun while their parents get to engage in adult conversations.  I love being a host.  I’m not social by any means.  My introvert personality doesn’t allow much room for that but I love large gatherings where I can just watch and see everyone having a good time.  One of the reasons I am so excited about having a house again is so we can entertain again.  I love having Sunday after church gatherings, community group and game nights and it’s just not that doable in this tiny apartment with a two top table.  

We also hit on what keeps a person in their current work environment.   My gut instinct would be money but I know that isn’t true for myself.  I definitely made more per my tax returns in my previous job but I also worked more and sacrificed more time away from home.  I got into this job because it worked with a schedule that I wanted for our family and I felt good about the people I interviewed with.  It has proven to be an amazing opportunity and just a few months ago, I told one of my friends that I was no longer looking at the job opportunities that are delivered daily to my email because I was so happy where I was.  So back to what keeps us there...why do I never want to leave??  The number one reason people stay where they are is their co-workers.  I can definitely say this is my number one.  I love who I work with.  We have this little PEC family and I feel like we are supportive and caring of one another and we actually like each other!  #2 is freedom.  I definitely have freedom within work itself but more importantly  within my schedule which is important to me.  #3 work culture.  Have you ever worked at a place where the tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife?  You didn’t know if your boss or even co-worker was going to be in his manic phase or depressive phase and if it was manic, was it going to be over the top good or bad?  yeah, those are no fun.  Laid back, let’s get the job done and do it right but have a good time doing it, that’s our work culture and it makes it enjoyable to come in and do my job.   The number 4 reason people stay where they are is variety.  Again, I’ve been in the paper pushing same thing day in and day out and it does get old.  We need challenges, change, an occasional zebra without the burnout of over stimulation but also without the boredom drain of the mundane.  So, you can see money isn’t there in those top 4 reasons of why people stay in their current work environment.  Money may get you there but you can make money anywhere.  I had 3 other opportunities when i accepted this job that paid relatively the same amount, if not more than this job but I don’t regret my decision at all or think “what if” because I truly enjoy my job because of those things listed 1-4.  

Finally I will finish with this....  God wants us to be fulfilled through our work.  he designed us to work.  That work may entail many different roles and responsibilities but we are made to work and like Ecclesiastes says, “There is nothing better for a person than that he should eat and drink and find enjoyment in his toil...”   God gave us skills and passion to use for God’s glory so whether you are a stay at home mom, a part-time receptionist or full time nurse He wants to work through you.  We are called to be missionaries before all things...before being a spouse, a mother, an employee.  We are to be the witness of Jesus.   What is your work and who are you witnessing to? 

Simplify….fasting for the Lord and my soul...

The toil of a fool wearies him, for he does not know the way to the city.-- Ecclesiastes 10:15

We have began our church wide fast.  Today was day one.  Originally I thought we were all only going to be the Daniel Fast but yesterday in service, our lead pastor told us that we may need a fast from social media or games or some other vice.  I knew this was me.  Facebook and I spend entirely too much time together.  I have excuses: it’s my connection to my friends and family, it’s how I stay updated, it’s how I update my family and friends, it’s mind numbing, brainless activity that takes no effort, helps me unwind at 2 in the morning when I get home and takes up too much time of my family’s time with me.  Oh wait, that last part is not really an excuse but a dirty effect my phone has taken on my life.    

When I originally heard the above scripture in church on Sunday during our simplicity series, I initially thought about work, my career, my husbands career.  The pastor said, “the fool is so tired by work, he cannot even find his way home.”  While initially I tried to relate this to my job and Lance in his new and upcoming job as i know he is going to work a lot, when I sat down to do my first study during this fast, I realized my foolish work is my social media.   My phone is wearisome and I can’t even find my way back into the home.  I spend time with Lance and Gabe and with God and I do fun things but not like I should and not like I would before my “smart phone”.  So I’m giving it up.  I’m giving back to my family.  I’m surrendering to God, to my husband.  I’m surrendering to being a sister in Christ, a wife and a mother.  I’m simplifying and for me that looks like taking out the social media.  

You can have a conversation while learning to crochet with your husband without a phone in your hand!

Of course, it's Monday so we had a pool day!  He jumped! and he's swimming much further on his own!