As a Child

My heart is so heavy today. My co-worker and friend died yesterday. She was young. She was
vibrant. She was a wonderful NICU nurse. She was a friend to many. But more than all of that, she was a wife and "mommy" to three, beautiful little boys. She went into the hospital yesterday to have her fourth baby and never got to see him.

She died during childbirth. And today there is a grieving husband with 3 young boys and a brand new baby without their mommy. Why, Why Why? Through our tears we shout, "Why did you let this happen God? Why didn't you stop it? Why are you so mean?"

I think that no matter where we are in our faith journey, we can't help in times like this, but to ask why? Maybe if we can see some reason, it will be easier to accept. Perhaps, we are looking for someone or something to blame. If only we could figure it out, maybe we could accept it. And we keep looking for answers to our whys.

As the little children came up for their children's message in church today, I looked at each of their faces. They were smiling. They were happy. They didn't seem to have a care in the world. They weren't trying to figure out the answers to all the problems in their little world. They were simply being children. And my heavy heart was lightened just a bit.

When the children were leaving, I noticed a father in the back of the church holding a baby. The baby didn't seem the least bit worried that he might be dropped. He just assumed that since he was in his father's arms, everything would be alright. He trusted his father completely. That's all he needed to know.

Later, during the sermon, Carl shared a story about a little boy whose father was a surgeon. One day he was playing with his friends and they began to tease him and say, "your daddy is a mean man. He gets people unconscious where they can't do anything. He lays them on a big table and just cuts them right down the middle. Then he takes things out and throws them away. Then your daddy sews them up and takes them to a room where they cry and cry. Your daddy is a mean man." And the little boy said to his friends "He is not a mean man! I don't know why my daddy does that to people but I know one thing for sure. My daddy is a good and kind man and he loves me." And he went off to play. He had no answers for his friends. He only knew that his daddy loved him. And that was enough.

Proverbs 3:5 "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding." Children have no answers, they can't lean on their own understanding. They simply know that their father is a kind and good man and that He loves them. That is enough for them.

Oh to have the simple trust of a child!

Heavenly Father, I ask this day that you would bring comfort, peace and strength to all who have loved Michelle. That you especially would wrap your arms around her husband and sweet little boys. Help us to trust you, Lord, even when we don't have any answers. Remind us, when bad things happen, that you do love us. Teach us, Father, to become as little children again. Amen

Another Lesson Learned

Ever since I was a teenager, I have been complaining about my hair. My sister Chery had beautiful hair. I was always envious of her long, straight dark hair while I got stuck with the wild, curly, wavy, unruly red hair. She could go straight from the shower to school with her beautiful hair and not have to do a thing. I, on the other hand, had to iron mine with wax paper or roll it on coke cans (not conducive to a good night's sleep). And as soon as it rained, which was everyday in Seattle, all ironing was gone and I looked like little "Orphan Annie" again.

Even as I got older, I was always complaining about how long it took to fix my hair. Eventually I got a really short hair cut thinking that would help. (When you get up at 4:30 in the morning for work, every second counts.) But I still complained.

Yesterday morning I woke up so fatigued I could barely get out of bed. But I really wanted to see my good friend who was in the hospital. It was about 95 degrees outside so the wig was definitely out. Wigs are hot and scratchy and after a couple of hours they leave a dent in your head so you end up with a headache.

So I decided on a scarf. Even after 6 months, I have not gotten the hang of tying these scarves. So I worked and I worked. My arms felt like lead weights trying to hold them up because I was so tired. I just couldn't get it. Finally in my frustration, I ripped off the scarf and got my hairbrush out of the drawer and began to run it over my bald head, crying all the while. How was it I spent so many years complaining about my hair? Was this my payback? Was this another of my life's lessons to be learned?

Luckily, Carl came in just then and rescued me from myself. Seeing my tears, he just pulled me close and held me. And it was okay again. After a few moments, I pulled it together, and was ready to make another attempt at the scarf.

Yes, I guess it was another life lesson I needed to learn. And I got it this time. For, I know that when I do get my hair back, no matter what color it comes in or how straight or curly is, I will never, ever complain about it.

The Prayer of a Mother's Heart

Two weeks ago, I saw a genetic counselor about the risk of passing this breast cancer on to my children and grandchildren. There is a test out called the BRCA test and it looks for a mutation in the BRCA gene that could be passed on to future generations. If the test is positive for the mutation, there is a significantly higher risk of the cancer being hereditary. I had the test done and proceeded to wait and pray.

The outcome of this test weighed more heavily on my heart than any other test or biopsy result, since this journey began. For I waited with a mother's heart. For a mother, it is one thing to fight a disease yourself and quite another to know you have passed it on to your children or grandchildren. I couldn't bear the fact that I might have been responsible for that.

So I prayed and I prayed. But, this prayer was different. And ashamedly, I knew it.

Throughout this journey, I have truly been open for His will to be done in my life, whatever that meant. When I pray, I ask God for my wishes, but end my prayer with the words that Jesus spoke, "Thy Will Be Done." But I just could not bring myself, this time, to say those words. I asked only for negative results. I felt selfish, but this mother's heart just couldn't ask for anything but good for my children.

But God knows a mother's heart. He knows every heart.

And I prayed. And I asked everyone I knew to pray. And they all prayed.

Last night, I had a hard time getting to sleep, thinking about this morning's appointment. I got up and wrote a scripture on a little piece of paper that was sent to me yesterday by a friend. "I wait quietly before God, for my hope is in Him. He alone is my rock and fortress where I will not be shaken." (Psalm 62:5-6). I read that scripture over and over again until I fell asleep.

This morning, as Carl and I walked into the office to receive the results, I prayed once more, and whispered a prayer of thanks for all who were praying with me.

And God answered that prayer!! The tests were all negative!! No mutations! This will not be passed on to my children and grandchildren by any bad genes. Thank You, Thank you Lord!!

I don't pretend to know why God answers prayer in the way He does. For His ways are Higher than my ways and His thoughts are Higher than my thoughts. I don't know why He honored my prayer, for I am deserving of nothing. But I do know that I will kneel humbly before Him , giving Him thanks and praise for answering the prayer of a mother's heart.