One of the many gifts God has given is a friend I've never actually met, Kendra. Many of you have also followed her story linked from my blogroll. We shared a mutual friend in Cambodia and have walked the dark pathways together and have seen the Lord working out the same things in our lives. It's hard to explain the closeness that forms from walking through the same ways at the same time.
Today at 3:45 Kendra and Dave lost Rachel Amariah from this life. Could you pray for this dear family right now? Pray for comfort as they lay their little one in the grave. Isn't she beautiful?
June was filled lotsahelpinghands in our home. My dear sister, Kristin, undertook the big task of coordinating helpers and our needs and matching them up together, no small feat. It has been a tremendous help to have everything coordinated online (because you all know how good I am with my phone...). If you're interested in checking out the online calendar you can email my sis (kristinmeschke@yahoo.com) and she'll send you a password to go on and check out the calendar. You can sign up for meals, helping out with the kids, or playing with Calvin. Here's a note from our family to all those who've given of their time or resources.
Dear Friends,
From stroller rides, delicious meals, laundry pick-up and more you have made June a delightful month for our family.
Thank you for the wonderful meals prepared for our family. It is such a tremendous relief to pull out dinner and warm it up after a stressful day. It has become a common question from the kids, "Who gave us this food, mom?" It is special to hear the kids parroting back what they see in action, "The people in our church are sooo nice." (Sophie). How special to have our kids experience the body of Christ in this way.
Speaking of kids, thanks for those of you who've whisked them off to the library (or some other adventure) or sat and read books to them, played with them, or got them dressed on those crazy days. It has also been wonderful to go out for a run or have a chance to escape to Bible Study on Tuesday mornings while someone stays with the kids. It's given me a much needed recharging!
We are also humbled by those of you who've helped our family tremendously with expenses. It has been a powerful form of God's provision for us. Thank you, thank you. It has freed our mind and time to care for the needs at hand without being overwhelmed with how to pay the bills.
The month of July holds a bit of uncertainty for us. This Thursday (30th) we are meeting with the surgeon to discuss and schedule the 2nd Nissen surgery for Calvin. He has had such a great week that we feel we need to do it as soon as possible while he is doing well. We are hopeful this surgery will be more effective as we try to control the retching with medication. If the surgery is successful Calvin will not be at risk for continuously choking and aspirating. That would enhance his quality of life so much (and ours too!).
Much love from our family to yours,
Darryl and Kara (Sophie, Noah, Evelyn, and Calvin too!)
Meet Greg Lucas, police officer, husband, father. Father of a disabled son.
Watch the video below. These words have me saying, "Amen, yes! Amen."
"God brings us to the end of ourselves, the end of our strength and wits. He destroys our pride and self-confidence in order to reveal to us His grace. Your circumstances don’t define God’s love for you. The cross defines His love for you. Your circumstances are merely used to point you towards that love. To bring you to a point of desperation where you kneel at the cross and surrender all of your strength for all of his grace."
We are home from yet another failed attempt to enjoy a visit with Darryl's parents in Canada. Calvin did not end up in the hospital this time but was so under the weather that most of the visit Darryl and I were trying to manage his care. I do believe the other three children had a lovely visit with their Oma and Opa, so in that regard it was worth it.
Calvin has been sleeping poorly for several weeks now. He will sleep a few hours and then wake up choking or screaming. Thankfully on most days after a few morning hours he's able to be somewhat comfortable. Some days it seems comfort is impossible to achieve. His vomiting has been particularly bothersome along with breathing issues. His poor little body is often exhausted and under so much stress.
It's time like these that Darryl and I feel utterly frustrated and exhausted. We had planned to make a piñata at Oma and Opa's for Evie's birthday this week. The kid's were SO excited about it, they had found an owl piñata in a library book with step-by-step directions on creating one. There was no way to make the piñata happen with all of Calvin's issues through the visit. How do you explain that to three little sets of pleading eyes? Their tears of disappointment left me feeling helpless and frustrated with the situation.
It sometimes feels like we are in the battle for our lives. This is the way I can explain it:
Imagine one of your kids fell out of a boat in the ocean. He couldn't swim and was floundering. It's up to you to save him. You jump out of the boat full of adrenaline, ready to pull your child to safety. Your arms find him and wrap around him tightly. You turn your face to the boat, just a short distance off.
Suddenly a storm stirs up and huge swells start tossing both of you around. You can barely manage to keep your head above water and the little head in your arms is floating just below surface. Panic starts to creep in.
Frantically you put yourself under the water to push his head up for air. At last when you can no longer breathe you come up for air only to find his head going under again. This seesaw continues and you begin to feel the strength leaving your body. The waves are only growing and there is no lifeline that reaches you.
You cannot let the child go and thus save yourself. The only thing you can do is hang on to the child, face the waves, and pray for strength and deliverance. You wonder if your other kids sitting in the boat will make it to shore. You wonder how long you can hold on. You wonder how many more gulps of air you will get.
Well, I'm cutting it close this week with "a day in the life" series, but here it is at the end of the week with 32 minutes to spare. All is well once again in our home and my bleary eyes are ready to close. ~Kara
Yesterday was free from any appointments. All except a visit from a friend (which was a good kind of appointment). The uneventful day was promising.
Calvin woke up feeling a little rough. Not long after waking up I became concerned as his body began to tremble uncontrollably followed by inconsolable screams. He is on "high alert" for seizures...maybe that's what was happening?
We piled in the mini-van headed for ER. On the way the trembling stopped. The racing in my heart didn't.
We called back and forth with the neurologist's office. It didn't fit with a seizure profile, they thought it may have been something with his medications. I was relieved.
The early afternoon rolled by filled with conversation, kids playing, and happy baby noises. And our first snow!
Calvin settled into a nap (yes, he is starting to nap! Hallelujah!) and I set about tidying up the house feeling encouraged from the shared company.
The screams broke through my thoughts. They sounded unusually forceful and strange. The trembling began again over his whole body. His condition continually worsened over the next 20 minutes. His face became so pale and his eyes strange. I was scared. Darryl ran to get a blanket to wrap him up in the van, Dad told him there was no time, I couldn't find my shoes, and somehow we piled into the van again, headed for ER for a second time.
He laid still on the big white bed in his blue and green hospital gown. Darryl and I looked at each other, exhausted. "He's precious," was all Darryl said. Sometimes when you feel something is slipping away you realize its beauty all the more. Slowly Calvin returned to normal and left everyone guessing about what had occurred. No longer in apparent danger, we bundled our little boy up and took him home several hours later, with thankful prayers in our heart.
On the wordless drive through the lighted streets I looked down at Calvin, a borrowed gift. Sophie, Noah, Evelyn--borrowed gifts. Thank you, Lord, for one more day with each of these precious gifts.
