When God Calls...Satan Attacks...and God Redeems

For several years I have had my heels dug in 

Staying in my comfort zone, afraid to step outside the box. Two miles from my parents, three blocks from my home church, everything else I needed within a short walk or drive down the road.

I remember exactly when I told God that I would go wherever he led us. We had just returned home from a 16 week stay in Oregon (which is a LONG way from home), and I realized while I was there that I would be willing to go anywhere God sent us.
It took me awhile after that realization, though, before I told God that I would go anywhere he wanted to send us.

It was then that the devil knew I was serious

                         and then he got serious.

It started when my baby was born almost 6 months ago. He was a perfect, beautiful, and healthy baby boy for about an hour. Then he had a spontaneous pneumothorax which landed him in the NICU for 

5 days--the longest 5 days of my life. For 5 days we could barely touch him for fear that he would cry and widen the hole in his lung. It was such a blessing to hold him and take him home after that time, but that wasn't the end of our plight.
We'd been dealing with ear infections with our 2 year old. Poor kid practically took antibiotics nonstop. When he got bronchitis, I figured that was the worst of it, but after another ear infection we went the tubes/adenoid/tonsillectomy route. A week of waking up in the night with a screaming, dehydrated toddler, and we were in the ER with a chest Xray that also confirmed pneumonia (and more antibiotics).
It was 2 months that my baby was sick.

When God Calls

Around this time Morrel was getting some calls and emails about a job he applied for last fall. He interviewed for it via video and told me afterward that it was the best interview he ever had and he felt like he was going to get the job. The job was in Wyoming, and before he even got the confirmation call we were making plans to move.
About a month before we moved to Wyoming Morrel started sneezing. It started here and there, and then became a constant struggle. We started finding things with mold on them throughout our house, and finally we found the source of the problem. Our ventilation system was moldy, and so was the air we were breathing. For the last month we lived in Missouri we actually lived in my parents' living room. We went to what became known as "the moldy house" to pack our stuff daily.
During this time Morrel got a sore that refused to heal and became very painful. Having a physician in the family has its perks, because we knew right away it was MRSA and took precautions to not pass it along to our kids. Unfortunately about a week after Morrel got it, so did I. They were both fairly mild, but rather painful, and we both had to take strong antibiotics.
By the time we made it to Wyoming we were healed from the MRSA.

But the financial stress was compounding

As soon as Morrel accepted the job as youth mentor for the church in Wyoming, we got paperwork from the Veteran's Administration explaining that we would be losing our regular monthly payment of nearly $1000 for three months.
We panicked and spent the better part of two months attempting to sell our minivan with no luck. Finally, 2 days before we left Missouri the car dealership called and had sold our van! It was by God's grace that we chose a dealership that had an identical van for sale already, because a company came in to buy BOTH vans, which meant we would get exactly what we wanted for ours. Selling our van, having a massive yard sale where we sold most of our furniture and baby stuff assured us we'd be able to cover our deposit and rent on our place in Wyoming. The U-haul company actually gave us a large trailer for the price of a medium one when they realized we had almost no money to work with. One of Morrel's friends even collected money throughout the Upper Columbia and Oregon Conferences to provide our gas money. My mom got a bonus from work the very week we left, so we felt better about emergencies that may come up on the trip.  seemed to come together. All in all, and as per usual, God provided exactly what we needed and not a penny more. 

After a fairly easy 1200 mile trip with 3 young children and two vehicles (my dad made the trip with us in his car), we made it to our house. We had found a place for the perfect price in the perfect place. It's a single-wide trailer sitting on a ranch with animals of all kinds, so the children love it. It's perfect, and we have been settling in nicely. 

However

During our first week in our new home our infant had a noticeable amount of blood in his diaper. Being the 21st Century mama that I am I turned to Google, which basically told me that my kid had a dairy allergy. Problem solved! I'd stop eating dairy. Well just as a precaution, and at the prompting of my mom, we took the baby to the doctor to find out after blood and stool testing that he had C Diff. The stress of changing an infant's diaper with two bickering toddlers in an unbabyproofed house full of boxes and an assortment of junk worsened when I had to wear rubber gloves and sanitize everything with Clorox wipes and wash my hands before I could touch my other kids. My mom figured that the baby had to have gotten it from somewhere so we had Abel tested, and he was also positive. 

What Goes around

                                Comes around

All the sickness that Abel had months ago in Missouri, and all the time he had been on antibiotics caused his body to lose all its good bacteria, so he had nothing left to fight this nasty infection. The antibiotics that I took for MRSA while breastfeeding Mark caused him to contract it from Abel. I decided I'd never give my kids antibiotics again. Then we found that although that's where this all started, they needed a very strong antibiotic to kill the C Diff, or they could get very sick. Adults are treated for C Diff with usually two very strong drugs simultaneously. Because of their young age my kids could only take one, and we only really had one chance to do it right. Miraculously they each took every single dose (every 6 hours around the clock) for 10 days, but how we got the medicine in the first place is a God story.

God at Work

The nurse called me to confirm what the boys had and explained that there was only one place in the area that I could get the medication, and they do not take insurance. We went to pick up the medication, which was very expensive for both boys and I actually had to call my mom to buy them because we had no money until Morrel got his first check a full month after our move. I waited for them to prepare both while also chatting with the receptionist. As we talked we realized that she is a member of the church where Morrel is working as youth leader, and all of her six children are youth in the church! What a blessing this chance meeting has been, because we have made great friends with this family. 

When the devil sees a smile

It seems like as soon as things began to look positive in our new life here I had what looked like MRSA again. I went about a week in denial, and refused to see a doctor because of everyone in our family I am the only one who doesn't have insurance. Because of all the health issues we've had over the past few months this is a point of great stress for me. A mother should be able to protect her family, especially the tiny baby that only drinks breast milk! For this reason I started researching natural cures for MRSA, and happened upon one that seemed promising. I found what's called Manuka Honey, which has been reported to begin healing MRSA wounds within 24 hours. On a Friday I received birthday money from my parents and purchased the honey. On Saturday we had an outdoor church service at a park about 40 miles away and we spent all day there and all evening at a friend's (the same friend I met at the pharmacy). By the end of the day the wound was not healing. If anything, it had worsened. When I got home I couldn't walk, but was just dragging my leg behind me and sobbing for Morrel to help me. No way could this be MRSA, because this natural cure wasn't working! 

Well, the age-old saying "it's always darkest before the dawn" is truth. After that day my leg healed steadily, and is now almost completely healed and a memory. Instead of a $200+ doctor's visit and a $30+antibiotic (that would be detrimental to my infant's health) I spent $15 dollars on a jar of honey that healed this wound that was causing me so much pain and stress I was beginning to be depressed. 

Other healing

In His divinity, God knew that this mama was worn thin. I don't even think Morrel realized how serious my anxiety over our health was getting. God knew that it wasn't only about our health though. We were desperately waiting for Morrel's first paycheck from his youth mentor job, surviving on food stamps to eat, and putting gas in the car with money from selling Morrel's phone and my cloth diapers, and even some donations from some wonderful friends.
The first job Morrel applied for, the manager called him within the hour of dropping off his application. He went in for an interview the following Monday at 9:30 am, and started at work at 2 pm that same day. Not only did he get a job, but he got a part time job, with Sabbaths off, that doesn't conflict with his youth mentor job, and he's working with youth in the after school program! God is good and faithful.
It seems the more he worked this other part time job, the more he worked with church youth as well, and eventually we started getting small partial paychecks from these two jobs.
At this time he started working another job mowing lawns a day or two a week, so he is keeping very busy.

The little things

Even with these small paychecks coming in (which didn't start until three weeks after our move) we still couldn't afford the little things: contacts lenses for me, shoes for the kids, seems like we were living "diaper to diaper". I even ran out of band-aids and I was covering my MRSA with cotton balls and masking tape for two weeks until my skin was so damaged that I bled each time I removed the tape. It's these things that we often forget about. We pay the bills and let the little things go, so when we can't pay a bill, you know we're bad off.

It started on facebook

First I sent a text to some friends back home in Missouri telling them I wasn't going to have my phone for awhile (I don't remember telling anyone in our new church, though). Then Morrel went to do some outreach at the welcome back BBQ at the college campus. After handing out flyers all afternoon with his phone number on them and meeting many college-aged youth and handing out his phone number, his phone was to shut off the next day. He just put up a simple status on facebook letting people know to contact him online.

We didn't notice, but one of our new friends defriended us both on facebook, and over the course of 6 hours on a Wednesday that was a sad day for Morrel (because it was the end of his military contract) a group of about 40 people (a lot of whom we haven't even met yet) decided that we needed some help, even though we didn't ask. In six hours 40 people raised $1000, a $25 gift card, and a pick-up truck load of food, diapers, wipes, toilet paper, Clorox wipes, Kleenexes (all those little things that we don't spend money on when we're broke), etc. 

In six hours a group of people we'd barely known a month set out to help us, even going as far as to pay our phone bill (which ironically enough was paid with the partial check that Morrel got on Wednesday) and people who have been attending church, and who haven't been, and even some that aren't even members of this church pulled together as a family to help my family. 

And when they surprised us

It was beautiful.

We have learned in the short time we've been here that you should expect at least a dozen people to show up when you've been invited somewhere for dinner. So when person after person showed up on Friday evening for dinner and worship, we didn't think anything of it. When the worship message was a study on the loaves and fishes and discussion moved toward giving and the supply multiplying we didn't think anything of it. When Morrel was sent into the house to get a package out of the freezer that had our names on it, he started to wonder what was in store. When we opened the card that held a stack of cash, we never dreamed it held over $1000. And as they told us the story of how this transpired, we had no idea there was a truck-load of goods in the kitchen, right by where we had sat most the night.
This is a church that had just met us, that has struggled to unite in recent months and years, that has taken measures to reclaim lost members. This church displayed the very Thing to us, which will win the hearts of many. It's the Love of Jesus that brought these blessings to us, through 40 wonderful people. It's the Love of Jesus that has caused many families that didn't know us to invite us into their homes in the past few weeks. It's the Love of Jesus that is washing over each heart in this church to make way for Great and Wonderful things to come. Hearts are softening in Casper, Wyoming, and God is working here.

         

Beat this Summer

Did you know you can be overdressed and underdressed at the same time? It's possible. Just look at fashion these days. You just don't get enough fabric for the price you're paying. Last night I saw concert-goer after concert-goer pass before us, each in a fancier dress than the last. It reminded me of prom, except the dresses stopped about 6 inches from the waist instead of brushing the ground. THere I sat wondering if I missed the red carpet on my way in. These girls probably paid top dollar for their dresses, yet very little was covered. So why wear a skimpy and expensive dress to an outdoor concert just to sit in the grass and cover up with a blanket anyway? Makes little sense to me, but then again, not much about the world does. The outrageousness of the night did not stop at the ostentatious attire.

What I Saw:  People-watching at Brad Paisley's Beat this Summer tour - St. Louis 2013
1. A guy that couldn't have been more than 12-13 years old sporting a full beard
2. A guy encouraging and then photographing his girlfriend kiss another girl (classy)
3. A few thousand people raising their cigarettes to the "No Smoking in this Venue" sign
4. A $4.50 bottle of water and a $10.00 cheeseburger!
5. Complete strangers watching each other's stuff, saving each other's place in line, sharing blankets
6.  20,000 people (give or take a few) all cheering for the American flag, and for a tribute to George Jones
7. A whole lot of people getting drunk, but not one fight
8. Kids waist-high all the way to gray-headed seniors singing the same songs at the same time (with not curse words)
9. Couples slow-dancing under the stars
10. Thousands of cars in lines, but no yelling, cursing, or bickering (a little honking)

Lessons Learned:
I don't have to be scantily dressed or inebriated to have a good time. My beloved and I had the best date we've had in awhile. We didn't have to spend a lot of money (except the almost-$20-pretzels). We didn't have to have front-row seats, or a beer in hand. We didn't need anything but each other to have a blast. It's kind of funny. Back when we did those things, drank and carried on, we only needed each other then too. The gray-headed seniors in the amphitheater knew this secret. I'm glad I figured it out. Life is too short to waste one minute on lesser things. We need to always ask ourselves: CAN I DO BETTER? Not "can I perform better" or "can I behave better", but CAN I DO BETTER? Is this worth my time? If you are settling for anything less than your time and energy deserves, then maybe you should do something different.

But I love my husband/wife/significant other, you say. We enjoy each other the way we want. Maybe so, but there is another element to what I'm relaying. Once you get a glimpse of Higher things, you no longer want to lie in the muck. Think about it. Once you have felt God's goodness, you want to breathe goodness to others. So while many around me were drinking and carrying on at the concert, I was wondering if the couple in front of us were getting their butts wet, and if they'd like to borrow our blanket to sit on. I thoroughly enjoyed myself at what was the best concert I've ever been to (maybe it was the fine gentleman I had in tow), but I didn't forget the goodness God has shown me, and how I pray He will visit the same on all those who sat around me. I remember when I was like them. Now I am changed, but I can't forget that we are still alike.

What's the Point?

I was watching a pretty good film today called To Save a Life. It deals with all sorts of issues that people of all ages endure today: suicide, loss, unplanned pregnancy, cutting, drinking, various self-image issues. I wouldn't recommend it to very young audiences (although I did watch it with my 6 year old nephew, but we discussed a lot of what we were seeing, and I think that 'parental guidance' that they recommend is a good idea for most television-watching). All that aside, there is one part of the movie that I particularly like. This kid (I say 'kid', but really the character, Jake, is 18 years old, just got his 18 year old girlfriend pregnant, just lost his childhood best friend to suicide, and is currently seeking the Lord--so he may be a 'kid' age-wise, but's dealing with some very adult issues like a pro) is attending a youth group meeting that his girlfriend just left because she felt judged. I'd try to explain the whole scene, but it's easier to use a clip, so enjoy:



The whole movie got me thinking, but this scene in particular got me thinking deeper. Today at church I got very frustrated with myself and my kids. Many things fell into order that left me and my brother alone at church with our children. My three were sitting with me (if you can call it that), and his two were sitting in front of me. He preached and I had other obligations during church service, so we were both up and down from the podium throughout the service, and our kids? They were up and down from their chairs throughout service. Between managing them during the church service, and then managing them while teaching Sabbath School, I was fairly exhausted. When the baby woke up hungry and I had to nurse him I had to throw in the towel and resort to sitting and issuing orders that went seemingly unnoticed.

As I started my car and sat waiting for Mickey to buckle his car seat, I took a moment to reflect. Why did I bother coming to church when I knew it would be like this? It's no surprise. It's always difficult when I'm by myself with the kids. So why don't I just skip church on drill weekends and have a pajama day with my kids?

                        It's because of my heart.
          Yep, my heart is in God's church on Sabbath, no matter where I am.

So in the words of Jake: "What's the point of all this if you're not gonna let this change you?"
You can ask yourself the same question about anything. I ask myself about my work for God. Why toil away at different programs and events if our heart isn't in it? Some people will take on a job because it sounds good, and looks good, and may even feel good, but if their heart isn't in it, it'll always end up being more work, a bigger headache, and essentially a heartache.

"What's the point of all this if you're not gonna let this change you?"

What's the point in coming to church? What's the point in following the rules? What's the point to what can become very monotonous routines if you aren't going to let it change you? But not just it--Jesus. I have been in the race without the clean heart. It is dirty and brutal. I don't want want to return there. I want Jesus to change me through everything I do. That means teaching Sabbath School when I'm overwhelmed, counting to 10 when I'd rather be spanking the behind of one of my kids, or putting all my time, energy, and money into an event or program. What's the point if I don't let Him change me?

Dear Me

     I am reading a book in which the author wrote himself a letter at the age of 20 which remained sealed until he was 40. What an interesting idea! Unfortunately I am such a boring twenty-something that I'm not sure I would change all that much in 20 years--20 years of adulthood, that is. I have changed drastically in just 10 years growing from childhood to adulthood, however. I wish I had had the forethought to pen myself a letter 10 years ago; I wish I had done it 15 years ago. We are all so different as children, aren't we?
     I was listening to my favorite radio station the other day (Air1) in which the cast was discussing how we as people tend to laugh less into adulthood. How many times per day do you laugh? I am sad to say that I laugh less than 10 times per day, and find it annoying when other people laugh like children. The fact is that I wish I laughed like a child more often. It's something that I miss.
     I just recently shopped at our local library's annual book sale. There were fiction books, religious, historical, and children's, but the largest volume of books were of one kind: romance novels. There is a reason that women are drawn toward romantic books and movies. It's the love story. We all miss it. Even as a happily married wife of going-on 5 years I miss the story of our love. I miss the "falling", and I think a lot of others do as well. It's not that I'm not happy; it's not even that I'm bored. I miss the goofy, laugh of my love. I miss the good-hearted, belly-laugh of my life. Where did it go?
If I had written myself a letter 10 years ago, knowing what I know now it would go something like this:

Rachel,
     By now you are 26. I have no idea what types of things you'll be doing. You may have kids. Maybe you have a job, a husband, maybe a dog or cat. All I know is what I am. I'm a 16 year old. I'm a new driver, a rebellious daughter, a thriving student, and a Christian. That sounds like just about every 16 year old, right (well, maybe not the bit about a thriving student)?
     Truth-be-told I'm a new driver, but I am pretty good at it. I drive a giant truck, one known around town as "Big Blacky". My big brother taught me to drive it, teaching me how a stick-shift works, and telling me that if I could drive that big truck I could drive anything. It felt pretty awesome to get such a compliment from him. I hope you remember that. I may be a rebellious teenager, but there are a lot of people around me that rally around me; they want the best for me. Because they are all here I know that they will still be here when I screw up. Remember them--remember who is here right now. I don't appreciate them now, but maybe you will. I am a thriving student, but what you don't know is that I don't really try that hard. Maybe if I tried I'd do a lot better. Remember that. Remember that I'm not trying all that hard at 16 and doing great, so if you aren't trying all that hard at 26, try harder. Do better. You can do just about anything, can't you? Remember that. Finally, I'm a Christian. Sometimes a hard pill to swallow for a 16 year old, yes. But I love it. I love this great big God I serve, the church family I have, the morals my parents instilled in me, and even the funny looks I get sometimes for going to church on Saturday.
     I sound pretty solid, huh? That being said, if you're in any way screwed up at 26, it's your doing, not mine. What's great about it is that you can always fix it, can't you? Don't forget who I am. Don't forget who you were, and who you can be.

Rachel

     That might be how the 16 year old me would write to me through a decade of time. However, if she could speak to me, face to face, she'd say something like "you may be happy, but you used to make people happy. You may smile a lot, but you used to make people smile a lot. You may enjoy the innocence of your children, but you used to be one of them. LAUGH!!". How we forget this as adults.

And Then There Were 3

As week 39 looms ahead of me I am wondering just how much another baby is about to change my life. This past week my husband and I celebrated our 4th wedding anniversary. In four years we have been through a deployment, numerous reintegration and relationship issues, four pregnancies including 1 miscarriage and one birth to come (hopefully any day now). We have moved 5 times, gone through NINE vehicles, and I've put on roughly 40 lbs.

We have not seen eye to eye, stood toe to toe, and had our share of passionate arguments. In those 4 years we have almost called it quits, but fought through. We have fallen in love several times, and still woo each other as often as we can.

It's been a LONG 4 years, and we finall have a groove. Probably other couples may not use that word. Some couples may call it a "rut", but I like the groove we are in. Sometimes comfortable is nice. It may have taken 4 years and a lot of work, but we finally move together. Even if we don't agree or see eye to eye all the time, at least we understand each others' points of view. I was thinking today about divorce and how high the rates are in America, and how common it is to rule it as "irreconcilable differences". I have realized though that there aren't any "irreconcilable differences". If Jesus can be reconciled to us after all we've done, then we can be reconciled to each other, no matter what the "difference" is.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not on a witch-hunt for divorcees. If I was it would have to start with me. My only point is that I intend to start another year of marriage with this in mind: I want to be happy everyday with the one I love. If that means reconciling differences everyday, then I'm fine with that. If I have to say "I'm wrong", "I'm sorry", "forgive me", etc. a hundred times this coming year it will be less that I predict. I'm just at the point where I want to spend time with my husband and kids. I don't want to be sulking in the shower behind a locked door (which is what I do when I'm mad). I'd rather talk to him than give him the silent treatment. I have done my fair share of picking fights for 4 years now, and I'm just not going to do it anymore. Taking a premise from a well-known relationship expert who wrote Love & Respect, I am jumping off the "crazy cycle" and jumping into my hubby's arms (it's much more comfortable there). With this in mind I am confident that a third baby will only be a blessing in this house, because I've never been happier. We all know the saying "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Well I think that works both ways.

Now enough of this mooshy gooshy stuff. My next blog will be about gun violence and crime statistics. (just kidding)...

Happy Valentine's Day

Today is Valentine's Day.
Men and women in pink and red aisles at the nearest Walmart.
Couples in love smiling over a Maple Butter Blondie,
snuggling in a booth,
giggling into each other's hair.
Long lines at the movies.
Traffic at every light.
Little hands holding Mama hands,
Candies in pockets and balloons on wrists.

From my booth, slurping up my noodles, and leaning into my husby's arm, this Valentine's Day seems like a happy one for everyone I see. But it's the people I don't see who may not be celebrating.
I remember a time when I didn't want to leave the house on this day--when I grumbled under my breath at every passing hand-holding couple. I remember when I was the girl who didn't have anyone and didn't care...
Only I did.
I only hope that all the people shedding tears today will have a smile a year from now when they're waiting 15 minutes for a table, and then an hour for their food, 5 minutes for a fork, and fending off smoke because the only available table was in the smoking section. I hope there is someone sharing a table with them that makes it all worth it :)