Country Mouse Comes to Town

Wanna guess who the country mouse is in this story?  Not hard to figure, huh?  The past few weeks have been an ultimate test of everything in my simple, country born and raised, dreams of the big city, life.  When I was younger, the ‘city’ life was my dream.  This was before kids obviously.  Living in Lexington was suitable for me, just having graduated from Powell County high school, and gotten my first apartment and attending college.  Then came the marriage, the house, the baby, all like it was supposed to be.  No happily ever after to that story for those who may have missed it.  LOL!  Life just doesnt always follow that fairy tale plan.  But that was enough ‘city’ life to make me happy, although I always envied those people who could live in New York apartments and town homes and not have cars, walk everywhere because anything you’d ever need was within distance, you’d never even have to leave the city.  Fast forward to ‘the edge of 40’ Marissa.  My city mouse is ready to come home. I’m always gonna be a country mouse, and my dreams of the big city life are fading fast and becoming much less desirable.

Don’t get me wrong, although the situation that has brought us here to Philadelphia is unfortunate, I have learned to make the best of it. Not everyone gets it, and I understand.  Just don’t judge…I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.  If you’ve not been in the almost exact position someone has been in, you just can’t see it the way we do.  That is why us ‘heart moms’ have such a special bond.  We get it, we’ve all been there, stayed the same number of sleepless nights beside our kids hospital beds, handed them over to surgeons not knowing the outcome too many times to count, and you get the rest.  It’s tough, so just don’t judge.  Ever.  Anybody.  You don’t know what struggles people are hiding under their outward appearance.  Ok, got sidetracked there. Back to country mouse.

Country mouse wants to come home. We’ve been here now since July 21.  I’ve missed my birthday, Flynn’s football games, my brother coming home from work, Labor Day weekend I’ll be working all weekend at the pub.  Not to mention I’m now here alone. It’s so hard.  Not that we could do that much while John was here, but just simply eating from the hospital cafeteria alone is so hard.  I play and pretend and get out, I like to act like I’m living the good city life, waitressing at a local pub, making cakes at a world famous bakery, but I wouldn’t trade my life at home for none of this. We are so blessed and fortunate to have the things we have here, so I’m not complaining at all, I’m just honestly surprised at how much my outlook has changed and how much I miss ‘home’.  I’m torn between killing myself, mentally, physically, and emotionally by staying at the hospital 24/7, and coming ‘home’ to our host family here to have a real meal, actual adult conversation, and God Bless ’em, a nice glass of wine just handed to me because you can see the angst, stress, and weariness on my face so clearly. So there it is…the hard to admit, succumbing to age, embracing the ‘old lady who lived in a shoe’ mentality.  That’s me now.  It’s who I’ve become, its from the choices, (and mistakes) that I have made, and I’m owning it.  I’m country mouse all the way.  And this country mouse wants to come home.  She wants her life back.  I want my house full of boys running around, playing out on the farm, roughhousing, playing football, stinky butts and all!  I want to make enough food every night to feed an army, and real food too, not this ‘city’ stuff.  I’ll eat my fair share of hummus and love my occasional trips to Whole Foods and Trader Joe’s, but I want my Save-A-Lot cubed pork steak with gravy and biscuits, and having to cook 3 pounds of bacon and a dozen eggs just to feed my bunch on Saturday mornings.  I want my Pentecostal, tambourine shakin’, losing his breath preacher on Sunday mornings.  These are the things that have become the food for my soul. Life happens.  Shit happens.  It can change in a moment, or can take years, as it has me.  Either way, fate has decided it for me.  I’m a Powell county, barefoot to the mailbox, front porch swingin’, see my momma and daddy every day, country girl.  I can’t hide it or deny it anymore. City life is just not for me.  Visits are fabulous, but Stanton will always be home, and I’ve said that many times before.

As said by the wise old country mouse best…”I’d rather gnaw on a bean than be gnawed by continual fear.’

Not Givin’ In That Easy

 

Atta boy’. Is this the most we get out of each other anymore to display our true feelings of a job well done to one another?  And I’m speaking solely amongst friends here.  What do couples, partners, husbands and wives do anymore to get that affimation that is so, so needed and wanted?  Or….could it just be me?  Nah, possibly not.  I can be a little loud mouthed, uncooth, tempermentel person when I wanna be, but I’m not that person all the time.  No more than the other.  I have my comfort zone of friends who choose (sorry guys, love me or leave me) to get to see that side of me, and lucky for me, a few of them are still around.  I am a wife, mother, friend, daughter, sister, nurse, mentor, aunt, cousin, so many more things.  Do I fail?  Hell to the YES I do.  But do I quit?  No.  But what do you when something is so compassionate for you, so meaningful, so life-or-death to you that you could care less who sees the ‘unbest’ of you?  Do you give it up in fear of what others may think?  I know a lot of people who do.  I’d call those cowards.  One thing I was taught is to always, ALWAYS, stand up for what you know is right.  Not what you think is right, not feel is right during a fad, but know deep down in you’re soul that it is right.  I am so very proud to say that I DO NOT, WILL NOT, stop, if I am right about something I believe in.  Not to say I’m never wrong, I am.  A lot.  But show me how.  Hear me out on my opinion, I’ll hear yours, then we’ll discuss and hopefully, peacefully agree that we can both be right, or wrong even.  Does everyone have to be right all the time?  I mean, sure it feels good, but don’t it kinda make ya think ‘huh, I might be that douchbag of the group’?  Cause trust me, every group has one, and if you don’t know who it is, guess what?  It’s you.

This blog post comes as I’m sitting at our friend’s home in Philadelphia alone, while John is sitting with Lincoln.  Some nights its just better to take shifts.  This hospital life is exhausting and I take pride in knowing that I can handle it, alongside my husband, fairly well for the most part.  Not everyone could. All day long I’ve fought for my son, just as I did last time here, to make sure he is getting EXACTLY what HE needs to get better, not what the “books” say, not what the first year residents say. (No offense to any of my Dr. friends, we all had to start somewhere.) All month long, I’ve fought for my marriage, all year long, I’ve fought a downright war to right a very unjust wrong done to our family (my husband) that I don’t want to go into detail about right now.  But that’s neither here nor there.  Question is…How long is one supposed to fight?  Until the other side surrenders?  Until you yourself have literally nothing left – physically, mentally, emotionally, to give?  That seems like a no-win.  For me, it’s not about the act of quitting.  I can quit just fine.  I’ve quit a million things in my life, relationships, jobs, hobbies, bad habits, etc.  But when it’s something you love so dearly, how far do you let it go before it kills you?  Could you live with yourself if you gave up the fight one moment, one second too soon, and in turn changed your life forever?  I can’t.  My brain is just not wired to give up on people and things that I love and care so deeply about.  Boy sometimes I wish it was.  Seems like things would be a lot less hurtful on this ol’ heart of mine.  I’m hoping I’ll live and learn but the only things it seems I’m learning are the hard lessons.  I do know this about myself and I’m not sure where it comes from.  My mother, nah, she’s the quiet, ‘lover,’ keeper of the peace.  My dad, oh yeah, thats where the fire headed temper and impatience comes in, no doubt. But he also taught me that the best thing in life to have was a loving, giving, helping heart, and you’ll never need or want for anything if my dad can help from it.  My grandfather Hayden instilled in me a love for people, and just being genuinely nice, no hidden agenda.  Same from my grandmother, she was a nurse, a caregiver, and did so until the day she died.  She also taught me how to cook, sorry Mom, guess she just skipped you! LOL! My grandmother Nona taught me all about homemaking skills and Jesus, and Papaw, well…he just liked to show off his fancy handiwork on all of Nanny’s VW Beetles. (Which is probably why my love for them runs so deep). And still to this day I stand by the fact I have to be my aunt Connie’s kid..there were no two souls ever more alike than us, and I feel her spirit in me every day.  Mostly it’s on my nice days but she lights a fire under my butt when needed!

I’m not real sure where I was going with this story when I started, I guess I feel like over the last year or two I’ve just lost a little of myself.  I’ve allowed myself to get beat down by people that shouldn’t ever want to hurt me, I’ve pushed away from my friends and family from the shame I feel of myself, and it’s something I really want to start – no edit- have started working on.  I know who I am and where I come from.  I also know the mistakes I’ve made and am trying to right them. I know what I stand for and what is important to me.  People can either stand by me and with me, or choose to walk away. It’s not like its not happened before.  I have two beautiful children who will always know how much their mother cares for them, no matter what else is or isn’t constant in their lives.  I have 3 amazing stepsons who know what ‘mom’ really means, and that when the time is right, I’ll be right here being the same ‘mom’ they’ve always known me as, no matter how long I have to wait. I have a family who walks through fire with me when I ask them too.  And I have a husband who’s probably reading this blog at this current moment feeling the same things I am.  How did this happen?  We love each other so much.  We made vows.  Broken before or not, they meant something to both of us this time.  I will not give up on US, John Shockey.  You are mine, and I am yours and we have made a beautiful, messy, insane, unbelievable (seriously, we’re gonna write a book one day), love filled life that is happening right before our eyes.  It’s hiding a bit, a little cloudy on many days, not as easy to find as were our newlywed days, oil rig money, before miscarriages, and custody battles.  But it’s there.  As I said before, I DO NOT STOP OR GIVE UP ON WHAT I LOVE AND IS IMPORTANT TO ME.  It sure gets me down a lot, you too, but we don’t quit.  We, together, you and I, along with our beautiful mess of a blended family have a story to tell.  A testimony that will save souls and be a story to shout from the mountaintops one day.  I truly believe that. This is not the end of our story, babe. This is only the beginning. Let’s just open our tear stained eyes a bit more often to see what’s really in front of us, what we really have that’s worth fighting for.  It’s incredible. So much more than many men could ever dream of.

“Yeah I’m a lucky man to count on both hands the ones I love, 

Some folks they have one, yeah others they have none, aw huh.

Stay with me……Let’s just Breathe.”

 

Give me all the mustard seeds!

Here we are, two days before heading to Philadelphia. I’m losing my mind. I’ve prayed, seen therapists, confided in family and friends, gone to church, done all i can do to find comfort, and it escapes me. I am so scared. There are so many things working against us, many of which we choose not to share, but just know, it is too much for any one person, one family to handle. God has yet again given us more than we can handle, and quite honestly, it angers me. In the end, all I want is for my children to be safe and happy, and that is robbed from me on the daily. Why, God, why? I don’t understand. My faith is slipping. I feel as though there’s nowhere to turn. I pray to feel his presence, for comfort of any kind, but instead am met with one obstacle after another. Gone are the days when I felt carried by the Lord and knew he had my back. Gone. I feel nothing. Nothing but hurt, sorrow, sadness, anger, and distrust. Gone is the carefree, confident, smart, beautiful person i once was, because I’m only a shell of that person. I feel hopeless, worthless, bitter, like ive failed everyone Ive loved. How does that person deal with what I’m faced? I’m not sure I can. I will go to the ends of the earth to protect my son, but I’m standing on the edge of it now. I don’t know the outcome to any of what we’re being faced with now, and some of the outcomes I know what I want them to be, but don’t have the strength to see them through. All i need is one tiny mustard seed of faith, and God will make a way. Problem Is, I’m fresh out of mustard seeds. Please keep my family in your prayers over the next month. I will keep his progress updated. And send in any extra mustard seeds you’ve got lying around my way….right now they’re more valuable than gold. Please share this and visit/share our Go fund me page as well. Thanks for your continued care, concern, and support. 

News Flash!!! I have a sick child!

SN: I started this blog a few weeks ago, and as the surgery date gets nearer, July 27, and my anxiety slowly cripples Me, I felt the need to add a bit to this. Sorry if I seem a bit smart alecky, but um..have you met me? 😁 Anyhow, I’m really discouraged by the lack of support we feel right now and the lack of understanding. So here’s my nicest attempt at trying to get these feelings off my chest. I feel fairly confident that I speak for many other heart mom’s as well. ❤

Here we are, mid-summer, terrible two time, and Fontan season.  We hibernated all winter, got through it with only one hospitalization (for RSV), and emerged into the heat of summer.  Every day is a learning experience.  This is truly the first experiences Lincoln is getting with being outside, and boy does he love it.  Once he’s out I can’t get him in.  He LOVES the water, and would splash and swim all day, but he doesn’t understand why he can’t play as long or as hard as other kids.  He goes until his arms and legs turn blue, his little mouth and nailbeds black, and his little half a heart beating out of his chest.  I know this is what comes with a ‘heart baby,’  but others don’t.  He fusses because he’s frustrated that he wants to play but his body won’t allow it.  Then, others look, stare, and judge….’your’e spoiling that baby,’ ‘just let him cry, he’s fine,’ why is he whining so much?’  And then the heart comments….‘why is he so blue,’ Oh, my Goodness! Get that baby out of the pool, he’s too cold.’  Which ultimately leads to the one question that us heart parents dread to answer…‘When will he be fixed?’  Bottom line is, he won’t.

Let’s take it back a bit.  I’m going to try my best to explain the situation so that its easier to understand.  Lincoln will never be ‘fixed.’  HIs three surgeries are considered palliative care, meaning his condition can be managed and controlled, but there is no cure, fix, or medicines to make it go away.  One day his heart WILL fail.  So for now, we go one day, one hour, one minute at a time, because that’s what we’re facing.  It is our reality, and we can’t hide it and I don’t want to.  I am so proud of my son, myself, my husband and everyone in our circle of family and friends. Lincoln is a fighter, a warrior, and his determination (and stubbornness) will take him far in life.  His upcoming surgery will turn his life around as well.  It will complete the rerouting of his blood flow and he will be a different baby.  No more 16 hour days of rest, he’ll be able to run and play with his cousins, swim, play ball, everything a normal 2 year would do.  And I can’t wait.  But on the other hand, I’m worrying myself to death. I’ve struggled with the decision to go ahead with his Fontan, as Cincinnati Children’s wants to wait until he’s 3 or 4, and CHOP wants to do it now.  Do you know how hard that is?  Sheesh.  The only physical, medical evidence I have to go on right now  are his oxygen levels, and pretty much just what I see in his daily activities.  When we get to Philadelphia he will first have a sedated cardiac MRI, then a heart cath to see how his blood vessels have grown since his last surgery. With that can come complications, like an overgrowth of these teeny tiny vessels that sprout of to allow the blood to get where it needs to go.  Then there’s the thought of the inevitable liver disease that comes after the Fontan.  Some cases are severe, some are barely evident, but it happens. 
And here’s a little side note for those who STILL DON’T GET IT. My child is sick. Critically ill. No cure. After attending a few outings this summer the comments and people judging have really gotten to me. He is not just SPOILED (Well he is some but tell me you wouldn’t spoil your sick baby and I’ll kiss you right square on your hind end), he is sick and doesn’t understand why. When his cousins and friends are swimming and playing their hearts out, he cries and throws a tantrum. Because he’s SPOILED? No. Because he’s angry and just wants to be able to breathe and not feel so fatigued that he has to leave the fun for a rest period. This isn’t fair. To him, to us, to anyone. So I don’t need to hear opinions on how ‘he’s acting up or ‘he just needs to be told no.’ What I want to say to you people is to get on your knees and thank God you don’t have to go through this. It’s a nightmare that never ends. Please just be considerate, and remember that even though he ‘looks healthy, he’s not. We are lucky, it could be worse, but I never imagined my life would be like it is. Oddly enough, good, bad, and ugly, I wouldn’t change a thing.

So now we just do as I said, one moment, one breath, at a time.  We live our lives as normal as possible, and personally I think we’re doing a fine job.  Lincoln is perfect in our eyes, even with his little broken heart.  And in a few weeks, we will love on him as he gets premedicated for the OR, we’ll pray over his precious little body with the chaplain, and then we will hand him over to his medical team.  This will be his fifth surgery, being his third (and final) open heart surgery.  There will be more procedures throughout his entire life to watch his progression and spot any complications that may arise.  He’ll likely have a heart cath every year, and hopefully that will be the extent of it.  And that’s it for now.  We expect to bring home a fussing, fighting, sassy, energetic little two year old.

And if you feel compelled to donate, please check out our GoFundMe, as Lincoln’s Mighty Heart. Thank you. 

All the feels…Part 4 – Anger

It’s been so so long, much too long since I’ve written.  Not because I’ve not wanted to, or not known what I wanted to write about, or not had the time.  Let’s just say it’s been a rough few months.  A rough year, to say the least.  Turns out, it feels very much to me like a rough life.  And I’m angry about it.

Over the past several months, we’ve been through it.  I mean, when I thought we had been tried and tested ten times over, it seems as it if we must have just failed every test and they keep on coming even though we can’t seem to get it right.  We’ve lost so much, so much that it actually feels unreal.  Can all of these things really happen to one person, one family?  How are we supposed to react, to handle it, to go on trying to live a somewhat normal life?  Truth is, I don’t know how.  I am completely lost, I’ve never felt so lost before, and I’m angry about it.

This is not the life that I had imagined, wanted, hoped for…right now it’s like a nightmare that I can’t wake up from.  And it doesn’t feel ‘temporary’.  Maybe if it did I could deal with it a bit better, but it just feels like, well, this is it.  Never ending sadness, anger, feelings of betrayal, hopelessness.  Yeah, yeah, I know I sound like a really bad commercial for a depression medication, but I’m just being honest.  I don’t think there’s any sane person in the world that could take all that’s been thrown at us and not feel overly saddened.  We’ve lost nearly everything that made our lives what it was.  And it’s not been all terrible, there have been many good things come from the bad.  But not enough.  Not enough to soothe my angry, bitter, jaded soul.  And through all this, I’m losing my faith.  That too makes me angry.  I’m trying not to, trying so hard, but sometimes I’m angry at God.  I question so many things, not only that are happening in my life, but in others too.  I get the idea…God gives us trials and tribulations, especially as He sees us drifting away from Him, but can He not just ease it up a bit?  Just a little?  I don’t know what is expected from me anymore.  I’m not a bad person, definitely not a perfect Christian, nor ever claimed to be, but I feel like I’ve paid my fair share of dues.  How does one get past these feelings?  I pray, I cry, I talk, I write, I do for others, I sleep, I don’t sleep, I preoccupy myself with so much sometimes that I even fail at things like being the best friend, wife, mother, daughter, etc that I can be.  And I’m angry about it.

I can only hope that this is comparable to the SAT’s, the NCLEX, or some other major exam that makes you feel like your failing miserably while taking it, but then you end up acing it in the end.  If so, please let me at least get a passing grade when this is all said and done.  I know there will be more ‘tests’ to take in the future as well, but sheesh, I need a break.  I don’t want to be angry.  It’s not who I am.  Given everything in my life, I’ve been able to keep anger in the background.  I’ve been able to move through the grief, sadness, anxiety, fear, and feel as if I’ve always found a way to find some kind of good with the bad.  But boy it sure is hard these days. Why have I become so blind to the good things?  A tasty cup of coffee, a good hair day, a warm home and bed, and a precious baby boy who loves to give his momma kisses?  They’re all there, but I just can’t see them.  And….I’m angry about it.

It’s up to me to wipe away my tears, and open my eyes as wide as they’ll go, and see again.  I refuse to allow this anger to take another moment from my life.  No more missed opportunities to read another book to Lincoln, treat the boys to an ice cream after good report cards, or take my mom to Costco for the food samples and cheap pizza.  See, I really am that simple to please sometimes…I mean, Costco?  Yeah, we really, honestly get excited about that trip!  So there it is, my declaration to try to let go of this terrible, horrible, hardest feeling (in my opinion) to deal with, anger.  Oh there will be times I’m angry, trust me, hard times are ahead unfortunately, but I will no longer let it consume me.  I will allow myself to be angry, to get mad, to fuss and muss if needed, but then I’m done.  It’s no different a feeling to me than the thief that is worry and anxiety.  I need to remember that life is meant to be lived in the moment, for what it is at that very instant, not the next day or week or year even.  And right now, at this very moment, as I sit here at 3am at the computer because I can’t sleep, I’m not angry.  The loves of my life are sleeping soundly upstairs, I still have our family Christmas to look forward to (that’s another story that lead up to this anger thing, LOL), my house is warm, my belly is full and so is my heart.  And that I am NOT angry about.

All the Feels…Part 3 – Grief

This past Tuesday, I wept.  I wept as Jesus wept.  It was the deepest sorrow that I have ever felt in my life.  Hard to imagine being as though it seems minor compared to so many other things I’ve endured, but I have never felt emotion like I did that day.  On Tuesday, my mother had her leg amputated.  We’ve known this was coming for weeks, and we were all at peace with it.  We have prayed, cried, cut up, and talked about it over and over, knowing it was what needed to be done in order for my mother to be able to ‘live’, both literally and figuratively.

In our family, I’m the go to medical gal.  I’m the nurse, the pharmacist, the educator, the therapist, the decision maker, and so on.  And I love it.  It’s in my nature to be a caregiver. That’s why I love being a nurse, and have wanted to do so since a very young age.  There is nothing that pleases me more than taking care of others.  I presume its from working in the medical field, but I can also step back from ‘family/patient’ mode, and quickly get into ‘medical’ mode, as I call it.  I can take all the feels out of the picture for a moment, and strictly think as a nurse – no matter whether the patient is myself, my son, my parents, etc.  That’s what I believe has gotten me through everything I have been through, especially with Lincoln…when I’m in ‘medical mode’  I am made of steel.  There is no emotion, only critical thinking, analyzation, questions, answers, scenarios.  But that’s when I’m in ‘medical mode’, usually in the doctors office, the hospital, the waiting room, and around other people.  Now….when I step out of those places, exiting my ‘medical mode’ and returning to real life, with my ‘people’, not my ‘patients’, alone, with myself and my thoughts, that’s when it hits.  And for the most part I feel I handle it pretty well, as good as any other person would in the same circumstances.  But not this week.  I don’t know if it was from the stress and anticipation of mom’s surgery, worries about being away from Lincoln and the boys so much lately, John leaving for work, or what, but I wept. I sat in my van after dropping off John at the airport, Lincoln sleeping soundly in his carseat, turned on my ‘Lil’ bit of Jesus’ playlist, and let out emotion that I didn’t even know I had in me.  And it felt so good to get it out.  I cried. I wailed. Talked to myself. Talked to Jesus.  Sang along with the worship songs.  I sobbed.  Ugly cried.  Thank God it was raining and I took backroads so people couldn’t look in and see that I was hysterical.

It was such deep emotion, such that I had never felt before, even being when Lincoln was so sick we thought he was dying. With that, there was an element of shock, so adrenaline took over and took out all the emotion I think.  But right now I am truly, deeply, sad.  I am very much an empathetic person, hence the need to be such a caregiver, but knowing and watching the pain that my mom is going through, more emotionally than physically, has me beside myself.  Physical pain is easy.  Pills, IV’s, nerve blocks, rest.  But seeing my mother’s grief, worry, anger, sorrrow….I want to take it all away.  I never knew how deeply I loved my mother, my father, my brother, until now, which is the moral of this story.  My Dad asked me one night, ‘why is this happening to her, why not me?’ One of the many questions I found myself asking just this time last year, when we learned of Lincoln’s heart defect, and so many other times in my life that I have questioned God about why he could allow me or my family to feel such suffering.  But when I got home, I read some in my Bible, and came across the verses of 2 Corinthians, chapter 4.  It speaks of how our earthly, outward troubles are temporary, and how we should not worry because they will not matter in our eternal life.  And those verses really spoke to me.  All my life has been consumed with worry and anxiety, but that was before I really came back to God. And that’s also why I truly believe we have suffering in our lives.  Eternal life doesn’t come without a price, and any sorrow and grief we feel is nothing compared to the sacrifice that God made for us and the sorrow He felt.  And when we weep, so does he.  He feels every pain we feel, and better yet, helps carry us through it, never leaving our side. And right now, that’s all I need to know to get through this, and I remind my mother, and father of the same.  We are not suffering for any specific reason, no one did anything wrong or is being punished.  It is simply God’s way of proving to us that His word is true.  In our sorrow, he wants us to draw near to Him, and there he gives us the faith, hope, and strength to carry on.  Knowing that one day, there will be no more suffering.  And when you really stop and think about it, that’s a pretty good deal.  He’s not asking too much from us in order for us to receive the gift of Heaven.  It’s simple.  Be kind, appreciative, love others, worship him and give thanks, even in the bad times.  I can handle that.  Just like my mom can handle losing her leg.  Like Lincoln can handle living with half a heart. Like my dad can handle being the ‘strong’ one for our family.  It’s all worth it.  And leads me to another verse which I think of often, and have said here before….weeping may endure through the night, but joy cometh in the morning.  The next time you’re grieving, or having a bad day, in pain, or whatever it may be, think of the happiest moment you’ve ever felt.  Now imagine that times a million for the rest of eternity.  I look forward to that moment.  And because of that, I can handle whatever God feels I must endure to keep me faithful.  And I can remind my family and others to do the same, so that we can all rejoice together. I can’t wait to see the people that I miss so badly, and to feel the happiness we are promised.  Give me all you’ve got Lord, I can do it.  Through Him.  For Him. With Him. It’s all gonna be so worth it.

All the Feels…Part 2 – Fear

Well….there’s no better time than now to blog about this topic.  It haunts me every moment of my life, it consumes entire days at times, taking precious moments away from this short life I have been given.  How do we overcome, fear, anxiety, worries?  Here’s the best I can come up with…..some good meds, a good therapist, and Jesus! At least that’s all I’m going on right now!  I have been troubled with anxiety for most of my adult life, starting right at about the age of 18.  Family illnesses that lead to death, failures through college and jobs, divorces, terrible coping methods, I’ve been through some pretty traumatic events.  So many you wouldn’t believe me if I told you. So many that I feel as if it’s just going to forever be a part of my everyday life.  I’m not trying to say that everyone doesn’t have their trials and struggles, but I feel I’ve gotten the lion’s share.  Used to, I would have said that in a feeling sorry for myself kind of way, but now I’m learning that all of these things have made me who I am, and is my strength.  And I’m slowly becoming okay with that.

Right now my strength is tremendous.  I cannot fathom how one person, one family even, can hold it together the way I/we have managed, but I’ve always been able to muster up some kind of Hulk-like, ‘twilight zone’ mode to get myself through the toughest of situations. Years ago, I would have never been able to explain how, or why, I am able to be the strong one, but now I finally get it.  And years ago, during every trial, you would hear me curse the Lord, asking, crying, pleading to know, ‘Why?….Why me, why my family, haven’t I repaid my sins already, when will enough be enough?’  But now I get it.  I get it all.  It doesn’t mean I like it, but the sense of relief I feel seeing it all come together and the understanding that has been placed upon me is overwhelming.  And undeniable that it’s come from the Lord.

First, let’s get something straight.  I AM IN NO WAY SAYING I AM NOT ANXIOUS OR FEARFUL.  Spend less than one minute talking to me, or heck, just take a look at me and you can see that I am filled with it.  But the way I can manage it now is, literally, a godsend.  The last year of my life was literally HELL.  We all know what struggles we’ve went through with Lincoln, but as I’ve said before, Lincoln was sent to me from OUR savior, to be MY savior.  To be completely honest, I had such a detachment with Lincoln towards the end of my pregnancy and during the first few weeks of his life, all because of fear.  I feared so badly that I would lose him.  I was so fearful that I lived in a fog of ‘what ifs’ that I missed the joy and happiness of my new baby boy.  I was robbed by fear.

As I type this, I’m sitting at home in my basement, with all my boys playing upstairs, that I’ve missed so badly this week.  I’ve spent the last week and a half in the hospital with my mother, who is extremely ill.  It started with a small wound, which has turned into a multitude of health issues and a few close calls we all could have done without.  It will likely lead to one surgery after another, weeks of hospital stays, and a possible amputation, which would then require months of rehabilitation.  Am I fearful?  Of course. How could one not be?  But here’s the difference in life as a Christian, and life as not.  I AM NO LONGER CONSUMED by that fear.  God knows we will always have worry, be scared, anxious, grieving, etc., but that is all just part of his divine plan.  It is in those times that he reaches out and is begging for us to draw near to him.  Do you think Jesus wasn’t fearful during his persecution?  Pretty sure he was.  But I bet he had a peace within him knowing that God, his father, was right there next to him.  God never leaves us. Sometimes it is so hard to feel his presence, especially when we are overwhelmed and consumed by our fears and anxieties. And sometimes, much to the pleasure of the devil, we forget to ask God to draw near to us.  We forget He is there.  Already, waiting for us to need Him.  Yet we often curse His name, and question His plan.  But there is such a simple solution….just ask.  Ask for comfort, peace, strength, healing, whatever it is you need, as you will receive it.  As Christians, we were given that grace and mercy, to ‘ask and ye shall receive’.  Sometimes I feel like I’m asking for too much, but God knows my needs and will sustain me according to His plan.  Never before have I been able to feel the comfort and peace I do now, even with everything my family and I are going through, but all I did was ask.  We also must not forget to give thanks and praise, even during our troubled times. For the longest time I had left that part out, and boy what a difference it makes.

I am scared and saddened that MY precious son has to endure what he has and will have to in the future, but I am still so thankful that we were chosen to be his parents.  I thank God for his health, for his half of a working heart, and that he is happy.  I am scared and saddened for my mother, who has watched her brother and sister slowly deteriorate and pass from the same disease she is fighting, but I am thankful that she has pulled through thus far already.  I am thankful that even though she may lose her foot, she will otherwise be alive and healthy.  One thing we’ve been saying since all this started is that if our little Lincoln can live with half a heart, she can live with half a leg!  We’ll buy her the fanciest new prosthesis out there, and with that we will continue on.  Not to mention that all the kids are gonna think their Nanny is the coolest, with a robot-like, Iron Man leg or foot!  I am scared and saddened for my Dad, who’s entire world is my mother.  Their love is so deep that it is truly inspiring.  And for that I am thankful.  As I said, I still have my fears and anxieties, but thankfully I have learned to let the Lord help me carry some of its weight.  He is right beside me each night I sleep on the futon in the ICU, He is right beside my mother in her ICU bed, He is right beside my Dad, who sleeps on the couch downstairs because he can’t stand to sleep without my mother.  He is right beside Lincoln in his crib, beside my boys in their bunks, beside John on the rig.  Isn’t that just amazing?  HE is with us all, all the time.

I cannot close out this post without mention of a song that has given me strength here lately.  It’s by Casting Crowns, a popular Christian band, and is called ‘Just Be Held’.  I listen to it often and its words could not be more true, and are exactly the words I need to hear right now.  I’ll just leave some of the lyrics here.  Maybe they are just the words someone else needs to hear right now for the same comfort I’ve asked for.

Hold it all together, everybody needs you strong.  But life hits you out of nowhere and barely leaves you hanging on.  And when you’re tired of fighting, chained by your control, there’s freedom in surrender.  Lay it down and let it go.

So when you’re on your knees and answers seem so far away, you’re not alone, stop holding on and just be held.  You’re worlds not falling apart its falling into place.  I’m on the throne, stop holding on, and just be held.  Just be held, just be held.

 

All the Feels….Part 1 – Appreciation

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I’m guessing it’s because it’s the end of year, the holidays have come and gone, and a new year is upon us, but lately I’ve been reflecting on the many things that has happened over this past year, and thinking about all the emotions that came along with it.  There’s been so much that happened, and so much that I have to say about it, that I figured it would be easiest to separate this blog into pieces.  They are the main emotions that we all feel regularly, but this is about how they’ve affected me this year, particularly I believe because Lincoln was placed in our lives. He has been the biggest blessing. life saving, miracle, that I will ever experience in my life.  This first piece will be about appreciation, gratitude, thoughtfulness, and all things related.  Having a special needs baby sure has changed my perspective on just about everything in my life, and of ‘all the feels’ one can have, I believe that this one has inspired, shaped, and changed me the most.

It’s no lie or secret that I have been in a major struggle with life in general the past year.  But for those of you who have been keeping up with me personally, though Facebook, or this blog, I feel like you can probabaly see a change in my way of looking at the world.  I used to laugh about the ‘Johnson’ family curse, say that the Lord was getting his kicks off of seeing how much I could handle, karma, whatever, you get the point.  But now I see so much more clearly and it all makes perfect sense.  God never promised us a perfect life….unless we accepted him, and even then it comes until the fate of his choosing.  Until then, we will continue to struggle, grieve, lose loved ones, have financial troubles, imperfect marriages, but when you look back on it all and really ask yourself….am I even deserving of an easy life?  Am I living for the right reasons?  Am I working my fingers to the bone to provide for my family or am I wasting time working my fingers to the bone just to buy the bigger house, newest car, hottest toys for my children?  Do you know that between the three sets of divorced parents in our family our kids had about 7 Christmases each.  NOT 7 presents….7 Christmases.  By the time John and Shannon got home and we were able to have our family Christmases, the magic was gone.   They were tired of the running around, opening gifts, being shuffled back and forth.  And they really have no idea of true appreciation of the gifts they had been given.  And I tried my hardest this year to really speak on the true meaning of Christmas, and I’m proud to say I saw it in my boys.  People think we are hard on our kids, but we’re not. We are simply trying to raise, Godly, strong, backboned boys that will turn into the leaders of their families and one day teach their children the same values.  We try to teach them to slow down, and enjoy the simple things we all take for granted.  And I know I’ve said that a million times, but I try to live it every day.  Don’t get me wrong, there are times I have to pull myself out of bed at 4pm and force myself to shower and eat a hot meal, but for the most part I am content. The days that John are out at work are super hard, but I thank God for him having a job that allows me to stay home with our medically fragile baby.  When I’m feeling sad about not having the circle of friends I used to have, my nursing career that I loved and worked so hard for, or have forgotten that there is a world outside of doctors offices and Walmart, I just hold my baby, and look at him as he looks at me with pure, unconditional love. I sit down with the boys after school at the butcher block and talk about school and pokemon.  I find my comfort in fixing them a meal they love, specifically ‘trailer mac’, which hilariously is a souped up version of mac and cheese with hot dogs in it.  Lol!  That is the appreciation I urge you to find.  Oh how busy we get in our daily lives that we forget how much a kiss on the cheek from your preteen son can make your heart melt.  Or the giggle of a fat rolled baby when you pinch his fat little legs.  When a friend gives you call or sends a message to say, ‘hey, I miss you old friend’.

Why must we always want more?  When is it enough?  Truth is…we all have enough, we’re just greedy.  I know we’ve all wondered about the grass being greener on the other side, but have you paid attention to the grass on YOUR side?  Is it green and lush, or is it dry and dying?  Maybe if we paid more attention to OUR grass we wouldn’t be so consumed with the thought of others’.  We are given millions of chances every single day to stop and notice the little luxuries we have.  But we let them pass us by, as we work, stress, and put off our family and friends for more materialistic things that, sure, are nice, but does it really make us happy?  I may complain about missing my days of travel nursing, having parties with my friends and girls’ nights out, but tonight I sit here in our den, with our boys, on the second part of our Star Wars marathon.  I cooked chicken quesadillas, which you’d think were cooked by a master chef by the ways the kids acted.  That, my friends, is the pure, innocent, simple, appreciation we all need – to practice and to preach.  Stop neglecting and forgetting all of the wonderful things we have been blessed with before they are gone and we realized they were wasted because we took them for granted.  Kiss your wife for that hamburger helper she made for your family, hug your children after a bath and take in the smell of kids soap, bubbles, and Spiderman pajamas, (especially before they turn into stinky teenagers!) and thank your husband when he walks in from work for being the rock of your family.  These are fleeting moments.  Don’t let people you love go unappreciated.  Don’t let another sunset, taste of a chocolate ice cream cone, or a phone call from a friend or loved one go unnoticed.  It will heal your soul.  It will remind you of what life is truly about.  And whether you’re looking for it or not, it will bring you closer to God.  For all things come from Him.  He knows what we need and just when we need it, just open your mind a bit more to be more receptive to it.  I promise, it will change your life.  We all have bills, worries, sickness, arguements, unfinished business, etc., but as you start to be more receiving of the love and simpleness in our everyday lives, you will start to let go of all those things, or at least to the point that they don’t consume you.  It takes a bit of time and effort, but it is so worth the while.

Tonight, my middle stepson, came to me at my bedside, as I sat there taking my nightly medicine, and mind you, this was after a stern lecture and grounding for bringing home an unacceptable grade on his report card.  Out of the blue he says, ‘Marissa, I’m glad you met Crystal a long time ago, or you would have never met Dad and never came to us.’  I smiled and agreed and said, yeah I think I like it here, I’ll stay awhile.  Then he went on to say how he remembers when Dad asked them if they wanted me to stay and that he was so glad they said yes.  ‘You’re a really good stepmom, Marissa.’  Then he grabbed his pillow, and here we sit, watching Star Wars.

Appreciate and be thankful for what you have folks.  I guarantee when you actually sit down and take a good inventory of what you’ve got, you’ll see that you are far more blessed than you deserve.  We all are.  Give thanks to the right people while you have time.  Give thanks to God, even on your busiest, worn out, worst-day-ever, stop for a moment to truly appreciate your life and all that’s in it.  Life doesn’t have to be so hard.  The hardest lessons are the simplest.  Appreciate little things.  Love your family.  Give yourself a break every now and then, for you are never alone.  No matter how much weight you bear, there is always someone behind you to help you carry it. Slowly sip a warm Starbucks, stand back to admire your clean floor after sweeping the pile of dust and crumbs up from under the table, (especially before the kids in from school), play a board a game with your kids, slip a love note into your husbands jacket pocket or lunch bag.  Enjoy what you have.  I guarantee its enough if you just stop to see what all you’ve been missing.

Supermom…sometimes.

Today was a supermom day.  A much needed one. It’s been months, probably even a year since I’ve felt like I’ve been good enough for my kids and my family in general.  We started the day with OT,  which went great, and she said Lincoln is getting stronger by the day and doing great, thanks to the hard work Momma has been putting in.  (She said that, not me.) After a short nap, OT always wears him out, we went to Kroger. Which I don’t do often, mostly just on the days when the kids are coming and since this was my long week with them I had to go stock up.  While there, I could barely get through a single aisle without someone stopping me to talk to Lincoln, little Mr. Social Butterfly!  He was in such a good mood…talking, waving, babbling, and laughing at everyone he saw.  He LOVES attention, (don’t know where he gets that from at all).  I stocked up on dinners for the week and even special treats to pack the boys’ lunch, which they love, but I just don’t get the chance to do it as much as I used to. At the checkout, my $371 bill went down to $176…this Momma knows how to save and coupon, believe it or not!  So, I left the store feeling pretty accomplished.  See, I’m not hard to please anymore, it’s the little things like this that make me happy.

I get home, perfectly timed with the boys getting off the bus so they can carry in the groceries, (yeah, I’m smarter than you think) and get them all in and put away in record time.  The boys still think they are on Santa’s ‘naughty list’, so I’m riding that one out as long as possible!  I’ve become a bit OCD about my house smelling clean, so I bought enough candles, airwick sprayers, cleaning supplies, and plug ins to smell up the whole neighborhood.  Boys get their homework done, and spend their 20 minutes reading out loud from their Bible stories book, which just makes my heart smile.  Then we prepared a HUGE pot of vegetable soup, which they ‘helped’ with…they love to think they’re helping me ‘cook’.

Next I was able to make a few phone calls, and get some things scheduled that we have been waiting on while Lincoln took his nightly catnap.  Tried to feed him a bit, which sounds easy and is what ‘normal’ moms do several times a day with their babies, but feeding is a big deal for us.  It’s got to be at the right time – when he’s in a good mood, not fussy, and usually after a nap.  Plus, we have to be careful in making sure feeding is a ‘pleasant’ experience for him, or else we’ll turn him off from it completely.  That being said, the days I can get him to take 5 or 6 bites of baby food once a day, are supermom days.

I’ve got a pretty full agenda for the rest of the week, as I usually do, which still amazes me.  Even when I was working as a nurse with two jobs, I was never as busy as I am now.  No job, just 5 kids.  I had always been one of those ‘oh, stay at home moms are nothing, they’ve got it easy’ kinda people, but boy have I eat crow on that one a hundred times over!  Almost all the Christmas presents are wrapped, I’ve started working on my hand made gift for my secret person…my family draws names each year and the gift has to be something completely hand made.  It’s simple, but so fun, and we all really enjoy doing it.  So far we’ve had gifts such as baked goods, special made pictures and collages, quilts…it’s a tradition that I’m so glad we share.  Those gifts are better than anything money could buy.

The boys have their lunches packed, and the soup is almost ready.  I also feed Crystal and Conner when I cook, but duh, that’s how sister wives work, lol! I’ve got a phone call set up later for a follow up interview on Lincoln for The Clay City Times.  Again, it’s the little things that make me happy, and just knowing how much my little hometown supports my family and Lincoln, is heartwarming and humbling.  So tonight I will sleep well, remembering that I am a good enough mom, because sometimes I so easily forget that.  Today was a supermom day.  And even if it only happens once every few weeks, or months even, I’ll take it. I am a SUPERMOM….sometimes.

My personal John 3:16

We all know the verse, ‘For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life’.  With Christ’s birthday coming up soon, I felt like I needed, no, wanted to share my story.  My testimony.  My own, personal, John 3:16.

I was raised in a quiet, country, small Methodist church where most of the congregation were family members to some degree. Sunday mornings in church were falling asleep in Mamaw’s lap while she rubbed my arms or hair, sticks of Juicy Fruit gum from her purse, then home cooked meals around the butcher block. Papaw was always leading prayer, singing in the choir, and joking and playing with every kid in church.  Dad played in the softball league, made a few visits as Santa Claus during Christmas time, and Mom made sure we always dressed in our Sunday best and participated in every VBS and Christmas play.  Music was an organ, a piano, and classic hymns.  On many other Sundays, I went along with Nanny, as well as a slew of cousins, crammed into a navy blue Toyota van, ‘up on the mountain’.  A Church of Christ, a little white country church with no frills.  So far up Furnance Mountain that it was actually in Estill county. All wooden walls, floors, pews, two rooms, no music (voices only), and maybe 20 members, again, mostly my family.  The ride was so long, but we loved it, because there was always a pit stop at Hardee’s for a breakfast biscuit to eat on the way.  It seemed like such a treat. Nanny would take hymnals to work with her and run copies of the songs so she could memorize them.  There were always stacks of copied hymns on her kitchen table.  Throughout my childhood, I would continue to go to both churches, and ultimately be baptized through the Methodist church at 15. But once I got out on my own, church was never a priority, and I was living in Lexington, where churches were nothing like what I was used to. My relationship with the Lord, along with my faith, began to suffer, and life threw at me trials and tribulations that would make even the strongest Christian hit their knees in prayer.  I went down paths that I’m ashamed to admit, hurt people I loved, and ended up with an anger toward the Lord that continued to grow stronger and stronger with each trial I faced.  It’s like I driving the wrong direction down a one way street.  Things that would make most people turn to the Lord, kept pushing me further and further away.

Now, let’s fast forward a few years. The only church I had attended as an adult was for a brief period while Chris and I were married at Southland Christian, which we LOVED, but soon after we moved back to Stanton.  A couple years later, on occasion, I would go with my sister-in-law to their church….very hesitantly.  It was an Assembly of God.  Complete opposite of anything I had ever been around.  I’ve known my sister-in-law Jenny for years, as our families actually go way back.  My mother worked for Jenny’s grandparents in a Stanton bakery as a teenager, and grew up alongside her mother.  In middle and high school, Jenny’s older sister Christy and I were best friends, and remained so throughout our college years.  Then, Jenny married my brother a few years later.  My reason for telling these details is this….Pentacostal people pray.  They pray hard.  They pray alot.  Considering how well this family knows me and my struggles, it’s the least I can say to say that I’ve been prayed for A LOT for a LONG time.  Christy and Jenny for years have urged me to just give their church a try, and often I would, but would almost hit the doors running by the end!  Dancing, singing, speaking in tongues, fire and brimstone preaching….WHOA.  A little overwhelming for this quiet, sing from the hymnal gal.  So I pushed away again.  No way was I ever gonna be comfortable with that.  On one visit, it was July of 2013, I had just gotten with John, and him and I were leaving the next week for my ‘birthday’ trip to Myrtle Beach.  Jenny always knew to kinda keep a close eye on me, because it always seemed like every time she would invite me, after explaining how it not always kinda ‘wild’, those were the mornings when the roof was blown off the place!  But this particular Sunday, I sat there, quiet as usual, and toward the end of the service, a lady came to me, knelt at my feet, and asked to pray for me.  She said she could just see a sadness and trouble in my eyes, and during her prayer she spoke of the troubles I had been through and for the Lord to help me with trouble that was coming.  A little shaken and completely freaked out, I thanked her and remember my mom saying, ‘well now you’ll probably just have the best vacation ever.’  And we did.  It was then that John and I seemed to fall in love with each other and knew we wanted to be together forever.  Then, the bottom dropped out.  Within a month of that day at church, my life was forever changed.  It’s something I choose to keep private, but it was absolutely the worst day of my life, and I immediately thought back to that lady who had prayed over me.  Trouble ahead?  I thought she was crazy…but trouble surely came.  That was the first incident that made me start to rethink these “crazy pentacostal” people, and that maybe I was the one who was missing out. More and more trouble came, it seems like for a full year and a half we were completely overwhelmed with it. Finances, job troubles, struggles with blending our families, health issues, a miscarriage, you name it, we faced it.  It seemed as if everyone and everything, and I’ll admit I included God in it, was against us, and we had nothing for us.

Then things look up. John gets on at Transocean, family begins to settle and adjust, we start planning our September wedding with a fabulous cruise honeymoon, and things were great.  And then in August, we discover we’re pregnant with our little Lincoln.  I cannot explain the joy and happiness that we felt from that moment.  It finally seemed like we were over our rocky road and things were going to smooth out.  Of course, I spent a lot of time worrying about the pregnancy, just from the previous miscarriage, and well, if you’ve ever met me, you know I am a compulsive worrier.  Always expecting the worst.  I’ve always used that as a guard so that I thought I wouldn’t be so disappointed when the worst did actually happen.  And for the record, it never worked.  I just wasted a lot of time worrying over nothing. We all know the next piece of this story, when a few months into my pregnancy we learn of Lincoln’s heart defect.  And with me being on bedrest pretty much from that point on, I had a lot of time to think. Going through worst case scenarios, studying up on his defect and what issues come along with it, I cried out to the Lord in anger and was constantly asking what we had done to deserve this.  There wasn’t much praying involved, just anger.  I was furious.  How? Why? Hadn’t we had enough for two, three, even ten lifetimes already?

As always, Jenny and Christy both were always telling me to trust in the Lord, that the entire church was praying for us, their families were, and that I should too.  One day in the hospital Christy brought me a prayer quilt from the women’s group at church, along with a book about speaking God’s word and truly believing it.  She explained that the quilt was sewn with precious hands and so much love and faith and that I just needed to keep it close, and pray.  Hesitantly, I did.  We took that quilt to Philadelphia and kept him on it in the CTICU.  And when I opened the book, just to take a glance, on the first page, in the first paragraph was this sentence, in which the author was explaining her previous outlook on life…’If I don’t expect anything good to happen to me, then I won’t be disappointed when it doesn’t’.  That was exactly mine, and John’s, lifelong thought.  So I started to change that.  Instead of reading up on all the negatives associated with HLHS, I started to read up on the positives.  The good stories, the adults living with it, the medical advances being made, and joined support groups with other moms who gave me hope.  And I started to pray.  I started to ASK for prayer.  I finally started to feel some comfort in knowing how many people were praying for Lincoln and started to not only believe, but see with my own eyes that it was working. Just before our second trip to Philadelphia for his next open heart surgery, I took Lincoln to church, the ‘never-going-back-to-crazy-pentacostal’ church, so they could see the baby they had been praying for and to ask for prayer once again.  I warned Jenny, don’t let anyone near me, no one is touching my baby, and I wasn’t going to stand up and talk or do anything to draw attention.  And what happened that morning was an undeniable, palpable, direct message from God. Straight to me sitting in the back row, that I could finally…relax.  Be still.  He had me.  He had Lincoln. The sermon seemed to be written just for me, and by the end of the service, I had Lincoln at the altar, hands being laid on him, messages spoken in a language I couldn’t understand, and a crowd of family and friends with tears flowing in praise for this baby and the miracle that he was, and is going to continue to be.  The pastor gently held me close and said “God did not bring you this far to leave you now”.  The relief I felt that day was like the weight of the world being lifted off my shoulders.  I had no fear going into that surgery.  Lincoln was fine, and was going to be.  I drove to Philadelphia, just me and Lincoln, (John flew up from work a couple days later), and felt a confidence and peace that I’ve never felt.  I mean really – how many of you could hop in the car with a 4 month old and drive him to Philadelphia for an open heart surgery alone? And enjoy it even?  I noticed the beauty of the mountains while driving through West Virginia, the simpleness of the farmlands while driving through Amish country in Pennsylvania, and instead of being overwhelmed by the city and CHOP, being grateful that we were able to receive care in such a facility, and that in the big scheme of things, Lincoln’s heart defect was a ‘piece of cake’ to the skilled hands of his expert surgeons.  It was finally okay.  And I finally believed it.

This is why I consider my Lincoln, my own personal version of the scripture of John 3:16.  He was sent to me, one of God’s sons, to save me. To deliver me.  To remind me of my faith that I knew I had, but had just lost so long ago.  My child is my miracle.  Not only because of his medical issues, but because in his short little life, he has already changed mine forever.  I now look forward to Sundays because I can go to church, yes, the crazy pentacostal one! And Lincoln loves it.  Christy prayed onto me a little pentacostal baby, I joke and tell her all the time. He loves the music, the excitement, the people.  I love the old men that make me feel like I’m sitting right back beside Papaw, and the old women dressed to the nines who I just know have sticks of Juicy Fruit in their purses. This Christmas, our kids aren’t getting piles and piles of gifts, but we are giving to others, spending nights playing board games around that old butcher block where my nativity sits, and focusing on the true meaning of  Christmas.  I feel so proud when my kids ask to read from their Bible story book, or watch their Bible story DVD.  I feel a warmth in my heart when I see a new face in church, I’m sure just as mine once was, troubled and lost, and see them transform as the music starts and the sermon flows.  My life has changed.  My family has grown closer, and faith has been restored in all of us.  All because God sent us a son, just as he did many years ago, in a little town called Bethlehem.