Oh, to Be Like Paul and Silas!

I have found that one of the best ways that I can encourage myself in the Lord is to meditate upon scripture and keep my mind centered upon spiritual thoughts. Sometimes the greatest battles we face are in our minds! I often find myself reading a passage from the Bible or getting a song on my mind that I think of over and over for days, and doing so helps sustain me.

I recently revisited a familiar Bible story with Bryson. I told him about Paul and Silas being thrown in prison for preaching. As I told the story, I tried to tell it in a way that would be simple enough to grasp and detailed enough to be entertaining, and I was drawn into the story myself. As I described how they were put in that dark and smelly prison for doing nothing wrong, I wondered how they must have felt, really. Were they feeling a little sorry for themselves that doing what they believed pleased God got them into such a terrible and unfair circumstance? I'm sure they were sore from being beaten, hungry from lack of food, and worried about what was going to happen to them next. I've seen pictures that children color in Sunday School class that show two men sitting in a bright room, just the two of them, wearing seemingly clean clothes, and looking fairly pleasant considering their hands and feet are in wooden stocks. I know that for kids, that is probably an appropriate way to begin learning the story, but I honestly doubt they looked that good. They could have been in a crowded room; I'd say their clothing was ripped and dirty, and they were probably feeling weak, tired, and lonely sitting in that prison cell. What a test of faith! Had God forgotten about them? How could He allow such injustice to occur?

At some point, and I wonder just how it happened, one of them must have started to sing a song. It may have begun as a whisper. I'd say that at first their voices were a little rusty and weak, but I imagine that the more they sang, the louder and stronger their voices became as they started to feel the joy of the Lord. I'd say that the other prisoners thought they had lost their minds as they witnessed those two dirty preachers singing praises to their God who had seemingly forsaken them!

Something that struck me as I talked to Bryson was how Paul and Silas started singing praises to God with no expectation. We always hear about Paul and Silas singing, the jail shaking, and them being set free as if they knew that God would deliver them. But I'm not so sure they thought He would deliver them; they were just praising Him from hearts that desired to praise God despite where they were and what was happening to them.

Yes, their singing must have gotten God's attention, just as it got the attention of their prisonmates. God sent an earthquake to shake that prison, break the chains, and open the doors to the cells. I think if that happened to me, I'd get out of that place as quickly as possible and not look back, but no, Paul and Silas reached out to the jailer, and he was converted.

I've always thought that was an amazing story, but I've thought a lot lately about those men who just did what came natural to them, sing praises to God, even in a dark time in their life. They didn't know God would come to their rescue then; they could have easily been killed the next day. But God was so moved by their praise that He moved for them!

I'd love to have that spirit that Paul and Silas had that says, I'm going to offer praise even when I don't feel like it, even when I've been given a seemingly unfair circumstance to endure, and even if I don't know if it's going to get any better any time soon. I don't understand why things happen the way they do, but I know God is watching and waiting to see how I respond. I don't want to just praise Him in hopes that He will get me out of my mess, but I want to praise Him despite of my mess!

Bethany

Sleepless in Cincinnati

I wonder why everything seems so much worse at night? Am I the only one who lies in bed and thinks about things that wouldn't seem so problematic in broad day light, but keep me awake all night?

Tonight I'm wide awake thanks to Avery's constant coughing and choking. I have found myself half mad at his doctor and nurse practitioner who keep listening to him in clinic and telling me his lungs sound clear and surgery is too risky. If they could only hear him now! Poor little guy has no where for his saliva and mucous to go, thanks to an esophageal stricture that has his throat nearly closed, and he has been choking so badly over the last couple of weeks that he vomits. He looks at me with this look in his eyes, like "Do something!" Unfortunately, there's not much I can't do except pat him on his back and clean up the mess.

But it never fails. Fevers spike in the night, coughs get worse, anxieties and worries seem to get the best of me...

I guess the Psalmist must have felt the same way sometimes when he wrote "Weeping may endure for the night, but joy cometh in the morning." Psalm 30:5

Sometimes it's joy, sometimes it's peace and relief, and sometimes it's just clarity of thought, but mornings always seem to bring hope for a better day. I think one of the things that is going to make Heaven so wonderful is that there is no night there. It will be morning forever! I know that tomorrow, I'll be tired, and wonder why I couldn't just go back to sleep. So, now that I've vented just a bit, I'm going to lie back down, attempt to clear my head, and wait for day light.

Good night, friends...or should I say good morning? I'm not sure right now.
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An End in Sight??

My little Avery is still truckin' along here in Cincinnati. Since my last posting, he has had two admissions that lasted 3 or 4 days each. They were both related to fevers, and the reason for the fevers was never identified. But with his ANC around 200 for several weeks, any little bug would have been enough to get to him. His last hospital stay got a little more interesting when his central line broke in the ER. The nurse was flushing it, and it snapped like a rubber band. His is a double lumen, meaning it makes a "Y" a few inches down from his chest so that there is access through two lines, and he can receive multiple infusions at a time. It broke right at the "Y", so neither line was able to be used. The nurse who was flushing it when it broke nearly had a melt down. She was an ER nurse, and although she had handled central lines some, she wasn't nearly as familiar with them as the Hem/Onc and BMT nurses. She was pouring the sweat, trying to keep it clamped with her hands while I searched for an emergency CVC kit in the little room. I found one, and we got it clamped, but I was feeling the panic rise inside me. The nurse told me that he was going to need surgery to pull the old line and replace it with a new one. As I said before, his ANC had been so low along with his other blood counts that surgery would be incredibly risky for him. They started a peripheral IV on him, and called the vascular team. I immediately called and texted everyone I knew who would pray and asked them to spread the word that Avery needed prayer now. The vascular team attempted two repairs, and neither was successful. They were going to give it a few hours to see if it would work after sitting fo awhile, but Phillip and I weren't real hopeful. After a few hours, the team came back. They had done some research on the exact line that Avery had and had learned of another way to try to repair it. Phillip and I were both nervous and praying as they completed another repair on his line. They tried to flush it, but where the white lumen hadn't had heparin put in it properly, it had a clot in it. After a few hours with TPA, a clot buster, the lines both flushed beautifully. Thank God! By this point it was about 9:00 at night, and his line had broken around 8:30 in the morning. Talk about a long, stressful day! He spent the night in ICU, and then was moved to the BMT floor for a couple of days. I'm so thankful that his line was able to be repaired without surgery. I'm really not sure how that would have worked out for him!

Yesterday for the first time, the doctor said the word we've been waiting for a long time to hear: HOME! Dr. Mehta said that if Avery continues as he is doing, he may be able to be transitioned home in about a month. His counts need to be fairly stable for a few weeks, and there needs to be a decrease in his virus count. They began tapering his anti-rejection drug that he gets through his central line twice daily, and it will take 2-3 months to fully discontinue it. This is the drug that is also responsible for Avery's crazy, over-growth of hair, so I'm hoping he will slowly start looking more like my little boy and a little less like a werewolf! :)

Phillip took the entire month of February off of work through FMLA, so that really helped out with our schedule juggling. However, he went back to work a few days ago, and we're back to the old routine. Tonight, I have Bryson and Avery at the RMH, my mom has Emerson in Indiana, and Phillip is home because he is working this weekend. I'm already feeling the stress of the separation. Tomorrow, Phillip will come get Bryson after work so that he can stay at my sisters through the week and go to school, and I'll be here with Avery for the week. If it weren't for a little thing called money, I'd see if Phillip could take another month off!

I'm hoping and praying that this next month goes quickly and that Avery doesn't have any setbacks. Of course, as eager as I am to get him home, I don't want to rush it either.

Thanks for your continued prayers for our family!!
Bethany

My Thoughts on Schools and Teachers

This week, one of the biggest events in the news has been a shooting at a school near Cleveland in Chardon, Ohio. With 3 dead and 2 others wounded, many people are outraged and are speculating why a young person would do such a horrendous thing. Regardless of the reasons, there is simply no excuse and no rational explanation for it. My heart has been so heavy as each new piece of information is uncovered about this young man and the other young people affected.

Being a former public school teacher, this news has struck so close to home for me. I well remember the lockdown drills we used to do regularly with our students to prepare for such a situation, and I taught in a building once where a gun was brought to school by a student. I know the tension that we used to experience as we were sitting absolutely silent in our rooms with our lights out, doors closed/locked, and windows shut just waiting for an administrator to personally come to each room and tell us it was a drill and we were free to continue our class. I am beyond sad that a place where students should be focused on learning life skills and academic concepts that will guide them to reach their full potential as adults has become such a place of violence.

I know that not everyone shares my view, but I am a fan of public schools. I graduated from a public school and spent five years teaching in public schools. I have to say that most of the students there are kind (even if they need to be encouraged occasionally to show it!) human beings with so much promise. Some of the most dedicated people I have ever met are teachers. Generally speaking, I'm not sure there is another profession where people are expected to do more with less, selflessly share of their unpaid time, provide materials at their own expenses, and invest themselves personally in the upcoming generation. Yes, I know there are exceptions, but in most cases, you give a teacher an over-crowded, un-airconditioned room packed with young people who have many special needs and diverse backgrounds, and they will will rise to the occasion and impart knowledge to the little people sitting in those wobbly chairs and broken down desks. The biggest flaw with public education is that people who have never taught are passing legislation that sounds just lovely in theory but is so unrealistic in the classroom. Hmmm...I'll get off my soapbox now.

Anyway, as a mother of a school-aged child now, this situation translates into even more worry for me. I've always thought that I would send my kids to public school for their entire school careers, but lately I've been second guessing myself. Especially since a couple of days after this horrific shooting this week, bullets were found in locker in the little, country middle school I attended in rural New Lebanon. A student was threatening to "shoot the place up," but thankfully, nothing happened, and that student is being expelled. Still, it just makes you wonder what our world is coming to.

I've looked into the eyes of a few students who fit the profile of so many of the school shooters: dark dress, loner, troubled home life, apathetic, and I've wondered what their futures held. I've had some students with some pretty serious records with offenses from multiple grand-theft auto to sexual assault. I've had many students come to class with their ankle bracelets that show the world that they're on house arrest, and I have to say that I've not only wondered about their futures, but my own, since these young people are going to be entering the "real" world, filling jobs that service the public, and bringing their own children into the world. Yikes!

I guess that's why teachers in general are a special breed that they can keep doing what they do day in and day out and still manage to maintain their optimism that they are making a difference. I so admire the teacher in Chardon, Ohio who chased out the shooter from the building before he could finish firing the five rounds left in his gun. I listened to this man speak, and through tears he told the families of the victims that he spent time with their wounded children, wiped their tears, and prayed with them. What a hero and what a role model!

I know this is might seem like a weird posting, but it is what has been on my mind this week...worry about what schools are becoming, worry about protecting my child from such potential danger, and pride and amazement in the educators that give so much everyday.

And those of you who homeschool, I may be asking for tips once Bryson hits middle school age. I never thought I'd do it, but it's sounding a little better everyday!

Peace to you all,
Bethany

Emerson Rose: 7 Months

My little Em is 7 months old. I can hardly believe it! With our lives being as hectic as they are, it seems like time with her has flown by more quickly than it should. I've missed a lot of moments with her, and I haven't had the chance to take her to a studio for pictures since I'm never quite sure when I'll be home, but it's never for too long. Tonight I took a few minutes to snap some photos of my sweet baby. No, they're not anything near professional, but I didn't want another day to slip by without me capturing this beautiful phase she is in.

When I found out I was expecting her, I was so excited! I had no idea that our lives would be such chaos after she arrived. Sometimes I feel like I've not been there for her like I should be, and when she's away from me, I feel a little cheated. But it's just where we are right now, and I'm beyond blessed to even have such a beautiful and healthy daughter!

"For this child I prayed; and the LORD hath given me my petition which I asked of him:" 1 Sam 1:27

The Heart of a Child

Tonight, I just want to quickly share a conversation that Bryson and I had. We were sitting on the couch here at the Ronald McDonald House, and he asked me if I would ever get mad at him. I told him that sometimes I get upset, but I try not to get mad, because that's when people lose control of themselves. Then in his funny way as only he can, he said, "And then you might go to jail or hell?" He has a limited understanding of either place, but I couldn't help but giggle a little.

Then he got really serious and said, "Well, Mommy, I got a yellow apple at school, but then Mrs. Ball changed it to green." Let me just explain something really quickly. In his Young 5's class, his teacher uses a green-yellow-red apple system for behavior where they all start on green, then if she has to warn them about something they go to yellow, and then red means you lose your recess or go to the principal's office. So far this year, Bryson has gotten green apples everyday, and he knows that is what we expect. Yes, this momma is a little surprised considering how active and strong willed her little angel can be! :) I email his teacher about once a month, and she has always confirmed that Bryson is well-behaved and respectful.

Apparently yesterday Bryson had his first lapse in behavior, and he said he touched something in art class that their paintings were laying on on his way to the bathroom. Because of that, Mrs. Ball told him his name was moving to yellow. As he was telling me this, his bottom lip started to pooch a little and quiver, and I felt my eyes tearing up a little. He said, "Mom, my heart sank deep!" I grabbed him and gave him a hug; I assured him that I wasn't mad and appreciated him telling me, but that I didn't want him to get anymore yellow apples. He said that his stomach hurt when his teacher told him that. Then he started crying.

I have to say, as much as I don't approve of him getting that yellow apple, I couldn't help but feel sorry for my little guy who has been carrying around this heavy weight on his heart for over 24 hours. What a guilty conscience he must have had! After we talked he seemed relieved and told me I was a good mom.

I'm reminded of the verse that says, “Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven.” I know that is talking about having the trusting nature and faith as children do, but I believe it is also referring to the innocence and soft heart children possess and that conscience that is unseared. The kind like Bryson who can't stand to disappoint and needs to have his weight, even a seemingly small one, lifted away.

I hope that his heart is always so tender, but I know as he gets older, his sins will become greater and heavier. I also know that admitting wrong-doing will become more difficult. For now, I'm proud of him, and can't wait until he experiences that relief that comes with laying all of his sins down before Jesus. I'm praying that day comes when he's young!

May God bless you all, friends!
Bethany

My Little Preacher

My five-year-old has his future all planned out already: he's going to be a farmer and a preacher. I'm not sure how those two go together, but I'm pleased with his choices. Those of you who know Bryson know that he has an overactive imagination, which gets him into trouble pretty much daily. But it has also led him to be completely captivated by Bible stories. Jonah is his all-time favorite by far, and he loves to play church at home and preach about him. His congregation usually consists of Phillip, me, Avery, and Emerson, and his microphone is usually a baking wisk.

Recently, he took his preaching to a whole new level. We were visiting my dad's church on a Sunday morning. At the end of the service, they have the children sing and give out banners to the classes with the highest attendance, offering, etc. The Sunday School Superintendent asked just before dismissal if Bryson would like to preach. Bryson's face turned red, but he nodded his head and walked to the pulpit like a man on a mission. They got him a chair to stand on and a real microphone, and off he went. I think the size of the crowd intimidated him enough that he didn't get excited like he does when it's just us, but he made it through. After it was over, Bro. Culbertson asked if anyone wanted to pray...half-way jokingly I think. One man stood up and said, "I would!" He came to the altar, and the rest of the church came as well for a second altar call.

After church Bryson called Phillip, who was in Cincinnati with Avery, and said, "Daddy, I preached today and touched somebody's heart!" One of the ladies at the church just happened to grab her phone and start recording a few seconds into his "sermon." She only missed his "It's good to be in church today, isn't it?"

Honestly, noting would make me prouder than to have him follow a call to the ministry!

Enjoy!