I Am Safe

I am finishing up an online bible study with P31OBS. The title of the Study is Psalm 23 The Shepherd With Me by Jennifer Rothschild I highly recommend doing it with a group or online.

From the onset of the study, Jennifer said one phrase that I have constantly been reminded of, “You are safe with your Shepherd!” Now I don’t know about you but I love to feel safe. In safety, I find myself at peace and rest.

Anyway, throughout the entire study I have kept that phrase in the forefront of my mind. Today I wrote this little poem and thought it my resonate with you the same way this study has resonated with me. My hope and prayer is that you’ll too find that you are safe with your Shepherd.

It’s my own paraphrase of Psalm 23.

I am safe

God is my Shepherd

I am safe

I am without nothing

I am safe

As I choose to follow Him

I am safe

He leads me to green pastures and beside still waters.

I am safe

He restores my weary and wounded soul and gives me hope

I am safe

His paths always lead me into righteousness because His name is at stake

I am safe

Darkness may lead me through a valley that seems endless but

I am safe

You are light and Your glory shines through through the darkness and I have nothing to fear. Your rod and staff protect me.

I am safe

You set a glorious feast for me and invite me to come and dine

I am safe.

My enemies are present but You are my shield and protection.

I am safe

You make me fragrant when I sit in Your presence and lift my head and there is no guilt or shame.

I am safe

You fill me up until I am spilling over

I am safe

You surround me with Your kindness and deep compassion and they chase me for the rest of my days on earth

I am safe

One day I will dwell in Your house forever and ever. Amen

I am safe.

Just for clarity sake, here is Psalm 23:1-6

The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside the still waters.He restores my soul; He leads me in paths of righteousness for His name’s sake. Yes, though I walke through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table for me, in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil; my cup runs over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house for the Lord forever .

Touched by His Hands

This buffet rests on the longest wall in my house, near the front door. If I told you when we first walked into our house before we purchased it, I told Terry, ”Its a perfect spot for the buffet!” would you believe me? It’s true I did.

I acquired this piece in a roundabout way. It actually belonged to my grandparents, who had acquired it from my grandmother’s eccentric Aunt (and a great story for another time). Mom laid claim to it years ago but when we moved Popaw from his house, Ned said, ”Ann, you have nowhere to put that thing and if we downsize you certainly won’t have room for it. Besides, I don’t really like it.” Mom asked if I wanted it. At first, I hemmed and hawed because I really didn’t have room for it. I finally concluded that we would just leave it for the folks buying Popaw’s house- until one day as we were wrapping up clearing out the house and the light switch turned on in my head and I knew it had to come home with me.

Terry didn’t complain but we did have to store it in our basement until we moved because there was no room upstairs.

For months I contemplated taking it to a local guy in Hendersonville who meticulously and beautifully restores fine antique furniture. Ultimately I refrained from doing anything to it and just left it alone.

At first glance, you see the beauty of the piece but upon closer inspection, you will find places where Popaw attempted to fix a few places. They are mainly at the bottom. The color hues are slightly off and can really be seen when light hits the spots. But to be honest, I would have to point them out to you because they don’t stick out like a sore thumb.

If I had taken this piece to be restored I would have taken away it’s character and what truly makes this special to me. The beauty to me resides in the fact my grandfather’s hands touched this piece. He left his mark on it, making it like no other. He added a depth of meaning that restoration would have eliminated. His hands made it special.

Do you know that in the same way, God’s hands make us special? Let me explain.

As we see the creation story unfold in Genesis 1 we see the words, ”And God said” repeated five times. He spoke everything into existence until he came to the final day of creation. On this day He did something different.

Then God said, ”Let us make man in our image, after our likeness. And let them have dominion over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the heavens and over the livestock and over all the earth and over every creeping thing that creeps on the earth.”

So God created man in his own image,
    in the image of God he created him;
    male and female he created them
. Genesis 1:26-27

On this day, God didn’t speak things into existence, he created man. He made the man with His hands and in His image. In Genesis 2;7 says, ”He formed man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and man became a living being”

Don’t you realize that God could have spoken man into existence? But He didn’t. He chose to use His hands to create and make us in His image. He gave each one of us our individuality and uniqueness. His very hands made us and that makes all of us special, flaws and all. This alone makes Him very personal to me and I hope it makes you feel the same way.

Maybe you’re like me and most often I see my flaws and failures. I see what a mess I really am but that’s because I’m looking at the piece all wrong. I’m looking at the flaws and I am not seeing the beauty of the whole thing. And what a great reminder to have such a magnificent work of art in my house to serve as a great reminder to me. Just as I see the flaws of where Popaw’s hands attempted to fix a few spots, the beauty is in the piece as a whole and that I have something that his hands touched. Just as God made him in His image and likeness and His hands formed me and made me, flaws and all and yet He sees me as a beautiful work of His hands. Ephesians 2:10 (my life verse) tells me this, ”I am God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus, to do good works, which He has prepared in advance for me to do.”

Friends, whether you’re a believer or not, the truth is you were touched by the Hands of Almighty God!

Sometimes You Gotta Speak Up

A few weeks ago I found myself in a tizzy over a bad haircut. The only thing it wasn’t my bad haircut it was Sammy’s hair, my dog. No matter how hard throughout the day I tried to ease up on my frustration and disappointment, it kept lingering, like an obnoxious headache that won’t go away.

First of all, let me explain the story. I always schedule Sammy’s haircuts on the same day as mine. (I’m probably the only dog mom who does this) It’s easier to remember. Like me, he has to go every 5 weeks. He has hair that grows like mine, only his more expensive than mine to upkeep. Also, considering my hairdresser and his groomer are on the same side of town, it just makes more sense. Besides, I can run errands if I have to wait on him for any length of time, which is also rare.

Anyway, this particular Friday, Terry was waiting for me to get back home to go eat breakfast. After I’d waited thirty minutes beyond normal, I called and was told he was on the table and would be done in twenty minutes or less. Within about ten minutes, I received a call telling me he was finished.

I immediately went to pick him up. As I was paying and making another appointment, a new gal, abruptly put him in my arms and walked off. Once I got in the car, I phoned Terry to let him know I was on my way home. Less than a minute into our conversation, I began to notice all kinds of things that were wrong with his hair. Immediately, I began naming each one and the list kept growing and I became more irate. Finally, he said, “Well, what are you gonna do about it?”

Without hesitation, I exclaimed, “I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Before I lost my nerve, I hurried to dial back the groomer. The first words out of my mouth were, “I know my regular groomer did not groom Sammy today because he looks horrible. I just want you to know how terribly disappointed I am with his haircut and from now on, I need you to make sure that no one else cuts his hair.” I wasn’t absurdly rude or demanding, I was more matter of fact and direct.

I fumed all day long over his hair. I even had to take scissors and even out his crown.

By evening, I was still fuming when I took dinner to Terry. As we talked, I had to ask the question, “Why am I so bothered and upset over a dogs haircut?” And then it dawned on me, “I was upset for two reasons. The first reason, I had not to be told beforehand that my regular groomer wasn’t doing his hair. I wouldn’t have left him. But the biggest reason for my angst was due to the fact my dog cannot fend for himself. He has no voice to speak up and I must be his voice because I can and he can’t.

This reminded me of how I had to speak up for Popaw and Mom when they couldn’t speak up for themselves.

It was Thursday, April 18, the day after Popaw’s stroke. Mom and I had talked on the phone around 9:00 pm and she told me that she was going to ask Teresa, the night shift nurse, to call and ask the Elizabeth House to come to get Popaw on Friday, I was in total agreement, for two reasons, Popaw wasn’t getting any better and Mom wasn’t getting any rest. The sitter service was understaffed and we could not get any helpers to come sit with Popaw. Mom’s only reprieve on Thursday had been from 9 am- 2 pm and I could already see how detrimental it was becoming for her.

On Friday, the most horrible weather day of the year, she called around 9:30 am to inform me that the Chaplain, not a nurse, from Hospice, had come by to tell her that because Paopaw’s symptoms were being managed at The Bridge, there was no reason to move him to the Elizabeth House. “It’s for patients whose pain is uncontrollable or symptoms are indicating the end of life is near.”

Her response to him, “Okay. I understand.”

However, her voice to me was full of exhaustion, anxiousness and a desperate plea for help.

I couldn’t get there immediately because of weather but Terry and I had already decided that we would go spend the day with him and give her a break. We just had to wait out the weather.

I was in the process of blow drying my hair and it hit me hard. What could I do? Who do I know? Something has to be done!

I pranced in the kitchen and told Terry my frustrations. Explained my concern for Mom and her well being as much as getting Popaw in a peaceful, restful state. He was still agitated and they were not administering drugs on a regular basis, only PRN or “as needed”

Suddenly during my raging fury, I told Terry I was going to call our friend. He serves on the Hospice board and at least he could direct me in the right way.

I called him immediately and explained the situation. He told me to be patient and he would make a few phone calls and see who I needed to speak with. After a little while, as promised, he called me back. He had talked with a few people. They could see where Popaw had been under Hospice Care and graduated out but couldn’t see he had been taken back under their care.

After a few more phone calls it was confirmed that Popaw was under Hospice care.

The next thing I needed to do was talk to the Director of Nursing at The Bridge to have her make the call. Fortunately, we had just braved the crazy weather and arrived at The Bridge. So, I didn’t have to make a phone call, I could just speak with her, face to face.

As I sat and listened to her, I was appalled to learn that they had already called twice and asked Elizabeth House to take him. Their reasoning had been the same as with my with the exception that the Hospice nurse, who had assessed Popaw, on the day of his stroke, continued to state that his condition was being managed at The Bridge. Not only were they concerned about Popaw but they also expressed concern about my mother and her state of mind, as well as her need for help. However, with the new information provided by my friend, she made the call once again.

By the time I got to Popaw’s room the medication was wearing off and he kept trying to get out of bed. Fortunately, he was much weaker on Friday than Wednesday so it was easier to keep him contained.

Around 2:00 pm, Mom received a call from the Hospice nurse handling Popaw’s case. I could tell Mom didn’t know exactly what to say and finally, she said, ” You need to talk to my daughter.”

The words spilled out of her mouth and hit me like a ton of bricks. The progress I thought that had been made halted abruptly when I heard the exact same words as Mom heard earlier from the Chaplain. I had to take a deep breath and pause before I retaliated.

For the next thirty minutes or more, she got an earful. I was as cordial and as respectful as I could be but I realized I had to fight for what I thought was right, both for Popaw as well as Mom. My final words to her went something like this, ”I am not a trained medical professional but I have seen, witnessed and experienced death and I am telling you that Popaw is in his final stages of death. Furthermore, I would like to remind you that Hospice and Elizabeth House exists for patients as well as family members. If for no other consideration, my Mom needs the benefit of him being moved there for her peace of mind and rest.”

At the end of my rant, she assured me, ”I will take this into compliance and see what I can do.”

I went back to the room and was completely satisfied that something would happen, I just didn’t know what or how soon. I knew I had not allowed my emotions to get in the way of reason and to be honest, I was quite pleased with how I had handled the situation. I think I knew how proud Ned would’ve been and that what made me the happiest.

I sent Mom out with Terr to get a bite to eat. While they were gone, I was completely satisfied to sit alone in quietness with Popaw. He’d been given some more medicine and finally settled down again.

Mom’s phone rang and I knew it was the Hospice nurse. She called to inform me that Popaw would be transported to Elizabeth House at 6:00 pm and he would be in his room by 6:15.

My heart was full and my conscience was satisfied. I knew this was the right move for both Popaw and Mom. I knew he would never return to The Bridge.

Popaw only spoke a few words that day, but as they were in the process of transporting him, I leaned over the stretcher and said, ”Don’t worry, Popaw. We are taking you to Elizabeth House. They will take great care of you there and they will keep you at peace and rest.”

”Oh, well.” he said and it was well with his soul and mine, too!

There are times in life where we need to speak for those who cannot speak for themselves. We don’t have to be irrelevant or irrational, but sometimes we must be tenacious and persistent.

And by the way, my regular groomer did call back and offer to fix Sammy’s hair but unfortunately, any fix would’ve required more cutting and he had already been cut way too short in some places. I declined and thanked them for their offer and stated I would simply wait until it grows out and bring him for his next appointment. Unfortunately, I still look at him and wince but I know he’ll look better next time.

Are you looking for joy?

December 31, 2017:

Reflections. An image produced by a mirror. The moon reflects the light of the sun. Water casts shadows of the moon. The human mind recalls the events of the past and in some ways, those reflections become a forever change.

As the year draws to a close, I am amazed and astounded by the events that have unfurled this year. When I think back to the start, I know that as a result of the events of this past year, I am forever changed.

A simple prayer to begin the year would bring a sweeping and much-needed change. It went something like this. “God, would you just help me to find joy in each day, whether I feel like it or not? Help me to choose joy.”

2015 and 2016 had taught me that many circumstances are beyond my control but my attitude is the only thing I have control over. Most often when tragedy struck in the previous year or so, my response had been less than pleasurable. At times, downright ugly. There were periods of time when I didn’t want to be around anyone, including myself.

I decided about halfway through 2016 that something had to change. It was up to me. It was hard. I didn’t always succeed in keeping a decent attitude but I kept pursuing the goal.

As the year 2015 closed I felt a bit more confident that my attitude was much better than the previous year but I still had a long way to go. That’s why I begged God to help me find joy in each day. Little did I know what that would look like. But God did.

He knew the challenges Ned would face with his cancer. He knew how many times we would end up in and out of the hospital. He knew I would be needed and He provided me the time and He sent me on time, every time.

Please don’t misunderstand, I am not boasting in what I did, I am simply telling you that I made myself available to be present for my parents because I knew that was what God was asking of me.

The scripture verse I clung to during that time was Philippians 2:3, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility consider others above yourself.” I told God upfront that I wanted to be there for them wholeheartedly. I didn’t want to go with a bad attitude or begrudgingly. I just wanted to be there.

As I reflect on this time, I realize how much it changed me. Now, when hard times threaten to destroy my joy, I am reminded that my joy isn’t found in the circumstances or my feelings. No, joy is found in the giving of yourselves to others and it’s found in being obedient to what God is asking you to do.

So, what things threaten to rob you of your joy? Is it the death or illness of a loved one? Is it a heartbreak you were not expecting? Whatever it is, I have good news. It doesn’t have do stay that way.

A simple prayer of asking God to give you joy that rises above your circumstances is all it takes. It may take awhile to learn but know with certainty that God wants nothing more than to give you His joy, which is deep and lasting.

A Humbling Tumble -Part 4 The final lesson

Ok. So, we had been hit with remnants of Hurricane Ivan and remained powerless for about a week, once the power is restored life returns to normal, right? No, because there’s nothing normal for a mom of four to be in a wheelchair and/or using crutches.

Like I mentioned before, we had an incredible group of friends from our Bible Fellowship Group. They brought in meals for us, every few days, and did this for almost a month. One couple, came on Saturday after our power had been restored. They knew we had a mess and she called and said, ”We are not just bringing dinner, we are coming to eat with you. But we are bringing our family and found to help clean up debris. ” And so they did. For a few hours prior to dinner, they all worked around our property and the neighbors cleaning up.

About a week after all the hubbub, on. Thursday evening, Ryan had a football game. Terry left me home with Alex and Amy. About an hour after he left, I get a phone call from him, ”Ryan fell on his arm in the end zone and I am taking him to the ER” Now, we have another wounded warrior at our house. Ryan had broken his humerus. Considering the location of the break, they wrapped his arm and put it in a sling. He could only sleep in the recliner and upright position for several weeks. Terry made sure he got his medication on time to help keep his pain at a minimum.

I hope you’re beginning to see why it’s imperative that Terry has been given a great sense of humor.

Then about a month after my surgery, we were back at the Surgery Center with Matthew. He had some major issues with his ears for years and needed to have tubes. It was really no big deal but just another example of life’s hurdles.

Finally, November came and I was allowed to begin bearing weight on my foot and I could start driving again. Hallelujah.

Terry returned to work and our daily routines went back to some form of normalcy. But how normal can you really be with four kids?

In February I was allowed to begin rehab in my foot, which would take about 6 months to complete. Three days a week for 75 minutes. It was a difficult process. I basically had to learn to walk again. The process was painful but with each passing month, I could see and feel progress. And it’s funny how life works that way. We don’t always get to walk the easy terrain, sometimes it’s rough and rocky but in order for you to reach your destination, you must be willing to submit to the process.

In that year, God taught me some valuable lessons. When I struggle with pride, I am reminded that I have absolutely nothing to be puffed up about. Although, I sometimes try hard to find something, especially when it involves my children. When I grow frustrated with Terry and trust me, I do (he does with me too) I am reminded that I have been given a treasure, Just as Terry saw the great need to show us unconditional and unselfish love by taking on the responsibility of being Mr. Mom plus, I too have that same responsibility to him. To love and care for this precious gift God has given to me.‭‭

Friends, we are not promised a life of ease without hurdles and complications. In fact, James tells us:

These things happen in order for us to grow. We persevere through endurance and it stretches our faith. In the same way, my muscles had to he stretched and pain had to be endured for me to to learn to walk again. If I had given up when it for hard, chances are I would’ve walked with a limp.

Can I encourage you today? If you’re going through a trial or hard time, hold onto this truth that God has for you. In the end, it will be for your good and for His glory.

A Humbling Tumble Part 2

Like I said in last weeks post Read here, many stories came out of my fall.

First of all, I alluded to the fact that I was in a prideful state at the time of my accident and I needed that good dose of humility.

Let me explain, about 10 months before my fall, I had taken a leave of absence from all of the ministries I which I had been involved in, all of which had been both successful and rewarding. Fortunately, I never saw anything as being my own success but knew the success was a result of my obedience to God.

However, I was very self-reliant. That is not necessarily a bad thing but self-reliance can lead to pride because it becomes all about me and what I can do by myself. My motto was, “Why ask for help when I can do it myself. I trust myself more than I trust others.” You know what I was doing? That kind of foolish thinking kept others from reviving the blessing God may have intended for them.

In addition, I also became very legalistic and I wanted to impose my own convictions on others. Just because I am under conviction doesn’t mean that others are under the same conviction. Folks, this is a very dangerous place to be because this is a place where you start judging others.

God began showing me a little of this as I began to step away from my commitments. However, it wouldn’t fully be realized until the fall.

You see, another thing that God did during this time of stepping down from all of my commitments, was preparation for God to call us out of our comfort zone and familiarity at First Baptist Hendersonville and lead us to unfamiliar territory and Biltmore Baptist Church.

So, about five or six months before my fall, we had left a familiar body of believers and were joined with a new body. It only took one Sunday to know with great clarity that God had led us there.

However, I wasn’t as eager and excited to involve myself in various ministries. The only thing I felt called to do was to be a greeter. Trust me when I say that sometimes your reputation precedes you. Somehow the ministerial staff knew about the work I had done in the past and were eager to involve me any way they could. However, I knew I needed to step back and wait before I committed to anything else. This was probably one of the first steps I took towards some form of humility. But God in His infinite wisdom knew that would not be enough.

The best part of not being overly involved is that I really had an opportunity to get to know people. Terry and I both had time for relationships with others. Our Bible Fellowship Group was large and very active. We intentionally had many group outings which also involved our children.

But there was still a level of humbling I needed. I was still very self-reliant and I was also very guarded with my emotions. I was not one to readily ask for help with anything, and now I needed help with just about everything. Sometimes, I catch myself back in this way of behaving and thinking.

And so, when I couldn’t do for myself, I had to depend on others. First, it was my parents, who’ve always been generous and selfless. Knowing that all of our bedrooms were upstairs and that I was going to be a bit wobbly at first, they offered to let me come stay with them until I could navigate stairs safely. Not only did I stay with them but Ned gave up the comforts of his own bed and slept in one their upstairs bedrooms and Mom slept with me and helped me get up and down throughout the night and also administered my meds on a regular basis.

The first week after surgery, I was ready to go home but I was still wobbly and unstable, more from the drugs than anything. Fortunately, by the end of the second week, I was completely off the narcotics and much more confident with crutches and a wheelchair.

I also had to call on friends and other family members to help with the kids. I couldn’t drive and although Terry was taking FMLA time off, he still needed help navigating four kiddos around.

I was taken from a place of self- reliance on total dependence. If you don’t think that’s humbling, try it sometime.

Then, I went home. After two weeks, the only way for me to climb stairs safely was to sit on my backside and scoot up and I would come down the same way. My doctor had given a clear warning that anything that would cause me to bear weight on my foot could potentially unravel the surgery and cause me to have another one.

The day I went home we had weather warnings from Hurricane Ivan. After two weeks of being scattered, we were finally home together, all six of us. By nightfall, the winds had picked up speed and rainfall began. As I scooted up the stairs I remember praying for God’s protection of us. I also remember thinking if we needed to get back downstairs quickly Terry would probably have to carry me.

We went to sleep and were suddenly awakened by a loud thud! Our power was out and all we could hear was the popping and cracking of tree branches all around us. Considering it was dark, Terry couldn’t see where the limbs and branches were falling. We just knew they weren’t falling on the house. Another great thud and this time we knew a tree had fallen close by, but again, nothing on our house. Rest assured there’s nothing like being utterly helpless in the midst of a storm. I couldn’t help myself, much less help Terry with getting the kids to safety, if needed. To say the night drug on is an understatement. I have never been so thankful for daylight.

As the light of day dawned, it became clear to us how God had protected and provided safety for us. One of our great oak trees fell away from our house, and onto our neighbors’ car. The other large oak, belonging to our neighbor across the street, had fallen across the road and about 15 feet away from our house and into an open space. But our entire road was blocked. Nobody could come in and nobody could go out. Power was out and no hope of quick restoration.

What a welcome home!Ivan

Terry was the only one in the neighborhood with a chainsaw. He and Ryan and Matthew went to work. He would cut and they would haul away. Alex and Amy also helped what little they could. I busted myself on the gas stove making everything I could to keep the crew fed. I found that I could roll my wheelchair close to the range and then perch on one leg to cook. It wasn’t easy but I was learning that I wasn’t in a totally helpless state. It made me feel useful because I obviously couldn’t help with any outside work.

We had been powerless for about two days when a friends power was restored and he brought up a generator for us. It was such a huge help. It was still tough getting in and out of our location because of all the debris but Terry made a path.

The biggest lesson I learned during this time was that God’s protection over me and my family was great. He kept us safe through the night. He provided Terry with the ability to make a safe path for us and our neighbors to be able to get out. He provided me with the ability to be able to cook and with food. And He used a friend to supply us with generated power. I guess you could say, I learned to ask for His help and protection, He answered me. Not only did He answer me, But He also showed me that I am safer in His arms than anywhere else.

A Humbling Tumble

“Matthew! Matthew!”, she bellowed at the top of her lungs. “Hurry! Come quick! Mom’s fallen and she can’t get up.

Those words echo in my mind, even today. She was six and in first grade. The look of concern on her face almost made me cry. But I knew I couldn’t. I was scared and hurt. She was scared because of what she had witnessed.

Matthew came quickly! He knew from the sounds of his sisters screams he was needed pronto.

The sight of me lying on the pavement at the bottom of the concrete stairs told him all he needed to know. I had tumbled. Amy had watched the entire process unfold.

“Mom, are you okay?” He asked.

“I can’t get up! I need you to call your dad.”

He made Amy stand guard while he went in to call. Trust me! I wasn’t going anywhere. My heart was throbbing into my foot so violently I thought my foot was going to explode.

Matthew couldn’t get Terry on his phone. He knew I needed help. So, who you gonna call in a crisis situation? Papaw, Nitro Ned, of course, because he’s going to come to our rescue.

Within a few minutes, he arrived and assessed the damage. When he tried to get me up and realized I couldn’t bear weight on my left foot; he knew I was hurt and needed medical attention. So, he took me to the ER and waited. He didn’t leave when Terry got there. He stayed to make sure I was ok.

It took forever to see a Doctor then afterward x-rays were needed. Then more wait until the radiologist report. Finally, the conclusion was a hairline fracture.

They wrapped my foot. Gave me Tylenol with Codeine and sent me home. No crutches. When they wheeled me to the exit, I could still bear no weight. So, with Ned on one side and Terry on the other, they became my crutches.

By the time I got home, Ned had already called Troy and Colleen (Popaw and Mamaw) and told them what had happened and they were on their way from Pisgah Forest to our house with crutches, about a thirty minutes drive for them.

I settled into the recliner, with my foot elevated, and settled in for what would be a restless nights sleep.

For the next few days, my foot, even with ice baths, would continue to balloon out, giving the appearance of a blown-up rubber glove, fat in the middle with stubby appendages. I could barely feel or see my toes, and the pain wretched.

Seeing no progress at all, I decided I should go see my GP. He based his assessment on the cardiologist report. However, he ordered a new set and decided that I needed to stabilize the fracture, even though it was dubbed, ”hairline fracture”, and put me in a walking cast. This would be a huge benefit because at least it helped with the pain and somewhat with the swelling.

The next X-rays would reveal much of the same. In fact, the report was almost identical, except they said, a possibility of a second hairline fracture.

I was getting around good with the boot. I could drive and do just about anything, except bear weight on my foot. The top portion of my foot was also extremely tender to the touch. I couldn’t even put a sock on my foot. It was far too painful. But there was no pain as long as the boot was on. It became my foot’s best friend.

After another few weeks and literally no improvement, I told Terry that I was taking my X-rays and making an appointment with our friend, Dr. Chris Estes. I knew something wasn’t right and I needed an orthopedic surgeons opinion.

They asked for the hospitals X-rays but also did X-rays of their own. Before he even looked at my foot, he put the X-rays on the light and shook his head and said, ”Kelly, I am so sorry. I am so sorry to tell you this. Your foot is fractured in four places. This is not my specialty and I can’t touch it.”

After a few minutes of waiting, he came back to tell me that an MRI was scheduled for Wednesday and I had an appointment scheduled with Dr. McKibbin in Asheville on Thursday.

I took the MRI report with me on Thursday and met with Dr. McKibbin. The MRI concurred with Dr. Estes x-ray and Dr. McKibbin put a name to it. ” You have a Lisfranc fracture . We commonly see these among horse riders who fall off their horses. It normally happens when there is a substantial bending a twisting of the foot on impact. Surgery is needed immediately or you will totally lose your arch. Some damage has already been done. I want to do surgery tomorrow!”

As the words spilled from his mouth, I was trying to process all he was saying. Surgery. Tomorrow. Really?

Suddenly it occurred to me that I had no clue what this surgery and the aftermath would entail. I tried no appear stunned by his words and I calmly responded, ”Before I agree to surgery tomorrow, I need to understand what this is going to look like. I have four kids at home.”

”Well, thr surgery will be 3-4 hours just depending on what I have to do. You will have four screws in your foot. You cannot drive for at least nine weeks and you will be in a wheelchair and/or using churches for at least nine weeks”

All I kept hearing, ”nine weeks” and the only thing I could muster was, ”Will it make any difference if we wait until Monday? I have to make arrangements for my kids.”

Thankfully, it didn’t make a difference and so I was able to get things in order before the surgery. Terry would take FMLA and take the kids to and from school and their sporting events. I would stay with Mom and Ned for the first two weeks, until I was more steady on my feet. Friends offered to keep the children and our Bible Fellowship group would bring meals for several weeks, after I got home.

There are many stories within this story that I hope to share but I’ll wrap this one up with how I actually fell and why I needed to fall.

Below is a picture of the steps I fell from.As you can see there is a landing area at the top of the concrete steps. Terry and I had been staining the deck and as a result had moved the grill to the landing area. The grill was facing the steps leading up to the deck. The afternoon of the accident, I was planning to grill chicken. I started the grill to heat it up and brought the meat out to cook. I sat the dish of meat on the side of the grill in order to open the lid. Somehow during the process of opening the grill, I stepped back a little and found myself in a freefall. I knew me couldn’t prevent the fall; however I was falling backward and I knew I needed to fall face forward. Digging my left foot into the second on third step, I managed to get myself turned and fell face forward. Luckily, only minor scapes and scratches on my hands and arms.

I don’t consider myself lucky to have escaped what could have been a tragic or even deadly injury, no, no, I consider myself protected by my Shepherd. You see, God was there with me. He knew beforehand what was going to happen and while there wasn’t a prevention from my fall, He did protect me from a more serious injury. To be honest, the injury to my foot wasn’t minor, and took a year for me to walk normally again. However, when I see the stairs and am reminded of how bad it could’ve been, I am thankful.

Like I mentioned, God knew beforehand what was going to happen and still allowed it to happen. Doesn’t that sound like a harsh and cruel God? I mean why would He allow this to happen?

At this point in my life not only was I self-reliant, which is not necessarily a bad thing, I had also developed a self righteousness to the point of becoming legalistic. I needed a big dose of humility. God knew this. He knew the best way to teach me humility was to get me in a place of reliance on him. Reliance on others to help out. A place where I asked for help because I simply couldn’t. This was a harsh reality and a real “come to Jesus moment”.

I would love to tell you that I don’t continue to ride this struggle bus but I do. Not so much in the legalistic and self righteous way but most assuredly in the area of self reliance and my ” I can do that all by myself ” mentality.

There’s a verse tucked in Proverbs 16:18 that states the following: “Pride goeth before destruction; a haughty spirit before a fall.”

What Drives Your FOMO

One evening at the Charleston Harbor, we stood and watched this sailboat.

I have never been on a sailboat. I’m not even sure my stomach could take it.

I found it fascinating to watch as the sailboat came from one direction, which initially seemed so far away, sailed right in front of us and then continued to move in the opposite direction until it was again barely visible.

A thought raced through my head, what have I missed out on by never going sailing? I pondered this thought, it didn’t take long for me to answer my own thought. Nothing, absolutely nothing because I have no desire to go.

The funny thing is that longer I lingered, the harder I tried to convince myself that I must be missing out. They looked like they were having a blast.

Funny how this is the very way we get caught up in things that are not good for us.

We watch others around us. They seem to be having a blast without us. Even though we know it’s beyond anything we desire, we continue to watch and observe. We convince ourselves that we must be missing out on something. In today’s world, it’s called FOMO (Fear of Missing Out). So, we cave in, even when we know it is not good for us and most times not even something we have a desire to do. It’s simply because we might be missing out.

It is this fear that leads to many failed marriages and solid relationships. This fear drives wedges, even great chasms in families This fear drives, even the best and brightest, to do detestable things.

So, how do we combat this fear of missing out?

Examine the motive. Why is this so compelling? Am I just trying to fit in? Am I afraid my life has or will pass me by?

Examine the heart. “The human heart is deceitful of all things and desperately deceitful. Who really knows how bad it is?”Jeremiah 17:9 (NLT ) Is there some hurt of pain from your past that had been unresolved that may be the driving force behind your decision.

Count the cost. Every decision both good or bad will cost something. Is it really worth the cost? Is it something you’re willing to live with the rest of your life. Is it a choice you can live with the rest of your life? Be willing to pay the price.

If I had someone tell me this long ago my choices might have been vastly different. Who’s to say? The fact is that I fight my own battles with FOMO even now. This is the reason I’ve always asked God to never let me forget where I came from. It keeps me humble and pliable and keeps my heart from wandering too far away.

How Do You Still Have Hair?

A few weeks ago during a lunch conversation with my friend she looked at me and started, ”I don’t know how you do it. How do you still have hair on your head?”

She was referencing a recent stunt Amy, my daring, brave and impulsive, adult child attempted. She failed miserably because the concrete doesn’t move.

As I sat explaining the events as they unfolded, and showed her thr video of a life-sized human tucked in a watermelon position, almost fetal position, traveling headfirst into a shallow 2 1/2’ of water and my friend realized end magnitude of possible injury Amy could have suffered was thr point at which she uttered the aforementioned inquisition.

It was not the first or second time I’ve heard that statement. It’s one that has begged he to search deep and discover why I do after four rather rambunctious children have a single hair left on my head. Lord knows there were times I could’ve have pulled mine and theirs out.

As I’ve shared with you, my Mamaw had some mental illness, as a result, she was a worrywart. If there wasn’t anything for her to worry about she had a knack for conjuring up something in the overactive mind of hers. I definitely learned from her what not to do. I simply can’t live in fear of what might or might not happen. It’s far too taxing on the mind and time-consuming.

My Grandma Reese, on the other hand, knew what it takes to raise children without dread, fear or worry. She was left with four boys to raise when Grandpa went to war. She was a staunch disciplinarian. You didn’t sass, talkback, to her. She demanded immediate obedience. She just didn’t take crap off her kids, or anyone else for that matter, even her grandchildren knew to obey.

Furthermore, she had sass. Which I suppose is the reason she didn’t allow it in her children.

While, I picked up my sensitivity, love of laughter, love for books and storytelling from Mamaw. My spunky sass, talkative nature and worry-free attitude definitely came from Grandma. In combination, they seem to work for me.

More importantly, than my generic make-up is the fact that I have a great big God who says this:

I don’t know a lot about fishing but I’ve been a time or two in my day. When you cast a line, you throw it out. Friends this is precisely what God is telling you to do. Throw your cares on me. Leave them there. Don’t reel them back in.

So many things have happened in my lifetime, but one of these took place nine years ago when I said goodbye to my two older boys and sent them off to Basic Training for the US Navy. In less than three months time we went from a family of six to a family of four. The most difficult part of having service members is the lack of communication, especially during deployment. There were a few times both were deployed during the same timeframe. One of the East Coast and in the Atlantic Ocean and the Mediterranean Sea. The other on the West Coastand in the Pacific Ocean and North China Sea. (It just happened to be during the time of unrest with North Korea)

Needless to say, if I had spent my days worrying about all the ”what ifs”, I would never have accomplished anything. Instead, I chose to, every day, throw my worries and concerns on God. In fact, I strive to begin each day by giving God my concerns especially where my children are concerned.

As a Momma, I want them covered and bathed in prayer. The good news is that prayer knows no bounds. It can break through barriers and can reach the depths of the ocean. And on Saturday, July 20th, He kept the concrete from breaking Amy’s neck. She did have a mild concussion and a few scrapes and raccoon eyes for about two weeks.

In conclusion, the only reason I have a single hair left is that I choose to take my cares and concerns to God. Yes, I do sometimes reel them back in and I have to cast them back out; however, I am fully confident that the One who gave these children to me is far more competent to watch over them than I am and why am I going to worry and stress when there is absolutely nothing I can do anyway.

Pardon for the Interruption

Do interruptions cause friction in your body, you just grow tense and every muscle stiffens and you become irritated and angry? Or do you welcome interruptions and see them as opportunities?

Would love to say the latter is how I typically handle interruptions but if I’m being honest, I genuinely disdain interruptions. I get so hyper-focused on what I’m doing and want to get ’er done.

As I’ve grown up, I have learned to become more flexible. Let’s face it when you raise four kids and have a husband whose middle name is ”spontaneity”, you have to learn not to get too irritated or behave irrationally by some minor ”We interrupt this show to bring you an important….”

What if that break in the action is actually important? What if that crying baby is awakened by fever and needs attention? What if your spouse just needs you to talk to them? What if that child needs advice and they’re coming to you and not running to other sources? What if that friend has had a rotten, horrible day and just needs to vent? Or what if the greatest decision your child could ever make, rests solely on your willingness to excuse the interruption and make the best of it?

I have always, not always, but more than 3/4 of my life, an early riser. I like to get up early. My mind is most clear and I always like to spend time praying and reading my Bible before the pitter-patter of little feet let me know the zoo was up and showtime was beginning. There was only one problem, Alex. He was always an early riser. I couldn’t complain much because he would go to bed early. I learned to navigate by getting up slightly earlier than him. Most days it worked out fine. I would be finishing up and he would come to sit on my lap for morning snuggles.

One morning he arose particularly early, I had barely poured a cup of coffee before he comes and hops in my lap. I thought he was drifting off to sleep. I reached down to grab my Bible and he said, “Mom, I want to ask Jesus into my heart.”

My heart skipped a beat as I asked, “Do you want to do it now?”

“Yes.” He answered

And so right there in the solace of the early daylight hours, Alex asked Jesus into his heart. The most important interruption of my life.

The next time something threatens to interrupt your already scheduled program, remember, it’s quite possibly a divine intervention.