Category: faith

Out of the Mouth of Babes

(photograph by Sarah Carter – http://www.sarahcarterphoto.com)

My daughter and I were setting up a room in a local church where I was scheduled to train foster parents on grief and loss.  The room is mostly used for youth so the decorations were different from the usual church auditorium.  Coming out of the stage and across the ceiling was a gigantic sculpted tree that was grey in color.  I could see where a child might find it a little frightening; although, I know that was not the intent of the designer.

My daughter said to me, “I’m scared. That tree is scary.”  I comforted her and told her that there was no need to be afraid as mommy was with her.  Again she said, “Mommy, that tree is scary.”  This time I told her that mommy and God were in the room with her so she did not need to be afraid.  When I told her that God was in the room she said, “No, He isn’t.”  I gently said, “Oh yes He is. God is with you wherever you go so there is no reason to be afraid.”

By now, I could tell she was quite agitated with me for saying that God was in the room. She put her hands out in an exaggerated manner and shook them while she said, “No He is not.”  I asked her “Where is God then?”  She looked up at me with her gorgeous blue eyes and sweet expression and said “God is in my heart.”

At that moment, the hustle and bustle of trying to get the room set up while tending to a clinging, somewhat argumentative 3 and 1/2-year-old melted away and I was reminded of how pure child-like faith is.

Do I walk around as if God lives in my heart?  Do I remember on a daily basis the implication of accepting Christ in my life?  Do I treat others in a way that truly reflects the love of Christ?  I love that God uses children to declare His truth and to gently humble us in ways that are so unexpected.

Through the praise of children and infants you have established a stronghold against your enemies, to silence the foe and the avenger.  Psalm 8:2 (NIV) 

Strength Training

I love cycling!  I just started a few years ago and thoroughly enjoy it. I have been able to meet an eclectic group of fellow cyclists, make some new friends, see parts of my state I would otherwise over-look, and witness in small ways about my faith in Christ.  A lot of issues have been worked on and prayed for while out riding in the country.  I really enjoy riding in local charity events and end my “season” with completing a 150 mile ride to bring awareness and raise funds for Multiple Sclerosis.

There are numerous hills dispersed throughout my corner of the state in Missouri.  Oh, I love going down them, but climbing back up is a whole other issue.  Often, I just want to unclip my shoes, get off the bike, and walk up.  But, I don’t (okay…well maybe a few times).  Instead, I huff and puff my way up these “Ozarkian” hills.

The bike is not to blame.  It doesn’t change.  The suffering of the ride really has nothing to do with the bike, but instead, my lack of focus, determination, and training….oh yeah….and those darn hills.  I am now realizing that perhaps my cycling journeys represent my walk with Christ.

I’ve found that when being challenged by a major hill that feels more like a mountain, I’ve struggled with the instinct to just keep my focus on the Lord.  It can be hard to stay determined to make it up that mountain.  I have wanted to do it all on my own and not allow the Lord to help me up it.  Then there are those times when life is good and I’m just flying along.  I fail to notice or acknowledge sometimes the One who gives me those moments where I am carefree, content, and not having to work very hard.

Like cycling, I think that walking with the Lord takes practice.  Let me explain a little further. Before I fully committed myself to the Lord, I did not realize how important it was to stay active in faith.  I just assumed that I could be “immobile” and the Lord would take care of it all.  I did not pray that often, barely cracked open my bible, and never went to church.

Through the past 12 years since I have surrendered it all to Him, I have learned that being active in my faith requires daily “training”.  Prayer, acknowledging His good works in my day-to-day life, trusting Him daily, reading the Word, tithing, being active in church, serving others….the training regiment goes on and on.  I do not want to be a lukewarm, out-of-shape Christian.

When I am out on my bike and really feeling every muscle in my legs burn, I start to recite to myself “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).  

If I look up the road and see what seems like a monster of a hill coming, I recite “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).  

If nearing the end of a long ride and I am just worn out, I tell myself “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13).

Just like training rides build up my strength and endurance, my daily walk, or run for that matter, with the Lord builds up my strength to face the mountains in life.  Christ strengthens, Christ builds up, Christ refines, and Christ declares the victory.

Moments Like This

I watched my first baby walk through the doors of Kindergarten today.  His backpack was nearly as big as him and even though he has grown so much over the years, he still seems too small to release into the big, new world of the school system.  I have written before in my post Motherhood Dreams about certain things that I worried missing out on if I never became a mother.  Well, sending a child to Kindergarten is one of those things.  It is one of my so-called Bucket List Items that I can now check off as having completed.

As someone who is barren, I truly never thought this day would come.  Now, as my mind is racing with a hint of sadness, nervousness, excitement, pride, and appreciation, I cannot help but think about the first time I saw him.  As his (former) foster mother, I did not know for sure if I would even have him long enough to celebrate his first birthday so thinking about sending him off to his first day of Kindergarten was just a dream.  Today, this dream came true.

I know sending a child to Kindergarten is not exactly the kind of action-packed, adrenaline-laced bucket list item that most people aspire to do.  I get that.  I too have wishes of high-flying adventures tucked away that I would like to experience in my lifetime.  But, at the end of my life, I want to be able to look back at moments like this and remember them.  I want to hear them, smell them, and feel them.  I want them to be the moments that leave my heart happy and that remind of the gift of life.

His birth mother came to my mind a lot today as well.  Another moment in time of great relevance has passed her by.  I am so glad that I was the one to kiss him goodbye and take one last glance over my shoulder as I walked out the door of his classroom.  Yet, at the same time, my heart felt a twinge of sadness that she was not able to.  In my post, I thought of you today birth mother, I wrote down my feelings about her on the day he graduated from preschool.  Today was no different.  I suspect every milestone in his life and in mine will remind me of who she is, what she is missing, and the grace that has covered the both of us.

Today was more than just sending my first baby off to Kindergarten.  It is one day that I am so thankful to have to cherish.  I get another chance in a few years with my daughter, but for right now, I am going to soak up this moment as much as I can.

This is the day the LORD has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.

Psalm 118:24

Second Chance

Have you ever wished for a second chance at something?  I am sure that I have wanted chances at many things throughout life, but I trust that the Lord granted me the chances (and second ones) that were best for me and that provided the opportunity to do what He desired for me to do.

Last year, I got my second chance at thanking my former pediatrician for the care he gave me.  Dr. Hamburg had been my pediatrician ever since I was a little girl.  He happened to be gone on vacation the week that I became incredibly ill.  I lay in the hospital slowly dying while various doctors tried to figure out what was going on with me.  My mom told me that as soon as Dr. Hamburg arrived back in town, he immediately came up to the hospital, read my chart, took one look at me, and then panicked.  He quickly ordered a CT scan which revealed a mass in my abdomen.  This in turn led to exploratory surgery to find what was believed to be a mass.  The mass was actually my uterus which was extremely swollen and filled with massive infection.  Dr. Hamburg also called in a new ob/gyn surgeon with wonderful credentials to perform the life-saving surgery.

I know, or at least, firmly believe that if he would have waited just a few days to return to the “office” after his vacation, I would have never made it.  There were many hands that touched me during that time and all of them played a part in saving my life.  However, I know Dr. Hamburg did not accept not knowing what was wrong.  He hastily came to the hospital and did not stop until he found the reason why his otherwise very healthy patient lay withering away.

That is the back story of Dr. Hamburg.  I also want to share what I believe is the Lord’s gifting of a second chance for me.  Here it is….

My first chance at something I had wanted to do happened at a local grocery story about a year and a half ago.  I looked up while pushing my cart around and saw my former pediatrician, Dr. Hamburg, shopping.  I studied him closely.  He is probably close to 80-years-old now and even though I knew it was him, I just wanted to be sure.  While I was trying to get the nerve up to go talk to him, I lost sight and, like that, he was nowhere to be found.  I hastily walked from aisle to aisle looking for him but could not find him.  My chance at telling this doctor who had a huge part in saving my life was gone.

As I walked out of the store, I felt the Lord saying to me “Caroline!  I gave you the perfect opportunity and you blew it!”  Oh my…I am sure our Heavenly Father just wants to throw His hands up sometimes with frustration!  I know this is something that He wanted me to do.  I have felt so led in the past few years to reconnect with pivotal people in my life who were in the trenches with me and my family during and after my hysterectomy.

The rest of the night and several days…okay months…passed and I could not get Dr. Hamburg out of my mind.  Last summer while heading into a store I looked up and there he was carrying a bag of groceries to his car.  I walked past with my sunglasses on so that I could give him one last look just to make sure.  As I was getting closer to the door of the grocery store, I realized this was the second chance I had been hoping for.

I immediately turned around and scurried as fast as I could to his car.  Nervously, I walked up and said “Excuse me, are you Dr. Hamburg?”  He said “yes”.  I then said “I don’t know if you remember me but I’m Caroline and I was one of your patients.”  He studied my face closely, but did not seem to be quite sure of whom I was.  He then said “How are you?” I said “I’m doing really well.”  He said “You have a sister right? How is she?”  I said “Yes I do. She’s doing well.”  He then introduced me to his granddaughter.  Now at this point, I could tell it was about to get awkward as he just kept searching my face trying to recall who I was.

I took a deep breath and said to him “I don’t know if you remember this but I am the girl who had the hysterectomy when I was eleven.”  In a split second, he turned and looked at his granddaughter and then looked back at me with an expression of “aha” mixed with excitement and concern at the same time.  I said “Dr. Hamburg, I am so glad I ran into you because I want to thank you.  I know that you played a very big part in saving my life.  And, I just want to let you know how grateful I am for this.  You saved my life.”

Of course, by this time, tears were streaming down my face.  I looked at him and his eyes that were filled with wisdom from the years began to well up with tears that eventually made their way to his cheeks.  He leaned forward and hugged me saying “thank you”. As I told him about being the mother of two wonderful children adopted out of foster care, he just stood there, staring, with tears rolling down.  His granddaughter was smiling from ear to ear.  We said our goodbyes and I turned around to enter the store.  I felt like I was flying.  My heart and mind were so excited, thankful, emotional, and in awe of what just occurred.  

I am so incredibly thankful for the second chance God gave me to run into Dr. Hamburg again.  I don’t even know if chance is the right word though.  I have learned through the years that nothing really happens by chance after all.  I believe that  our Heavenly Father is and always will be the creator of opportunities, and the writer of those golden moments where we can shine for Him, show love, and express thankfulness for the works He set His children to do on this Earth.

PSALM 107:1

Give thanks to the Lord, for He is good; His love endures forever.

Best Teacher Ever

Here in my little corner of the world, school is getting ready to start back in session.  My son will begin kindergarten this year and, needless to say, I’m filled with excitement and a little bit of dread all wrapped up together.  We get to meet his teacher next week and I hope I see in her or him the kind of energy my son thrives on and that every parent desires for their children’s teachers.  I do know one thing though, the school district will be missing a great teacher and counselor this year.

Mr. Martin retired at the end of the 2011/2012 school year after 30+ years of teaching and counseling kids.  He was my 6th grade teacher and turned out to be one of the best teachers I have ever had.  I remember getting him for my 6th grade year and being so excited about it.  Male teachers seemed to be a little bit of a rarity back in the early 80’s.  Looking like he had just stepped off the college campus and into our classroom, it was always exciting to see how he was going to try to teach us.

I became ill early in the school year.  The morning that my illness struck, Mr. Martin noticed that my color was not right.  I was normally a talkative girl, but on that day, I was quiet and different.  He sent me to the nurse’s office to be checked out and the decision was made to call my mother.  Not long after this, I was in the ER and, of course, the rest of my story unfolded.

Mr. Martin came to the hospital nearly every day after school to check on me and keep me up to date on school work.  He was ever-present and truly wanted to know what was happening and if I was recovering.  He provided support to my parents and family members as well.  If it had not been for him I would probably have had to repeat the 6th grade.  After all, I was only in school less than a week or two before I became ill.  I ended up missing between nine and twelve weeks of school due to it.

He tutored me while in the hospital and at home while I was recovering.  I laid in bed the whole time while he read the lesson plans to me.  He would stay at least an hour at a time twice per week.  I was so ill that I do not specifically remember each time he was there, but I just knew he was.  It is like my subconscious has always known.  The image of this teacher sitting by the bedside to teach a gravely ill child brings tears to my eyes.  How lucky I was to have him.

During my recovery, he gave me the book “The Littlest Prince” by Antoine De Saint-Exupery as an assignment to read and write a report on.  Inside the front cover, he wrote a note to me that this book had always been special to him and to make sure I paid attention to what the fox says.  I remember reading the book and writing my report but to be honest, I really did not understand it fully.

Many years later, I found the book among the trinkets of my childhood and reread the conversation between the fox and the little prince. “Goodbye,” said the fox.  “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret:  It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”  “What is essential is invisible to the eye,” the little prince repeated, so he would be sure to remember.  “It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.” “It is the time I have wasted for my rose” said the little prince, so that he would be sure to remember.  “Men have forgotten this truth,” said the fox.  “But you must not forget it.  You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.  You are responsible for your rose….”  “I am responsible for my rose,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember. 

A few years ago, I met with Mr. Martin at his school.  It had been nearly 30 years ago since everything happened.  I had run into him from time to time throughout the years, and gave him the standard and very brief update that I was doing well and what my job was at the time, but I really did not discuss much.  This time though, I purposefully sought him out.  He is a part of my memories of this time in my life.  It would be an incomplete history without him.

I asked him why he assigned The Little Prince for me to read.  He said, “It is a book that was always special to me and has meaning that translates to different moments.”  It is not just a book about survival, but a book about overcoming and transcendence.  I get it.  I may not have gotten it as a child, but I get it now and what great insight and foresight he had to assign this book to me.  I now see the great meaning behind seeing truth with the heart and not the eyes.  My rose, the one that I am responsible for, the one that I have spent time on, the one that I have tamed is really not a rose at all.  It is the way I have handled my life – the goodness and the tragic.  I am responsible for all of it the rest of my life.  My rose is myself.

I learned that the other children asked about me and were told I was recovering from surgery, but were not aware of all the details.  He described me as being girly, but like a little tough bull and seeing me one day like this, and the next minute close to death was difficult.  He recognized that I had to deal with adult issues and that “strange time” of my life was taken from me.  By strange time, he meant when our bodies are changing and puberty is starting.

The most important thing for me to accomplish when meeting him was to tell him that he was the one teacher I will never forget.  He was the teacher who showed care, kindness, and empathy to me and my family during a very difficult time.  We all have that one teacher who inspired us, who mentored us, or who held us accountable.  Mr. Martin was all of these things, but for vastly different reasons.  I could see how it would have been easy to either totally disengage while I was in the hospital or to just pass me along out of sympathy, but he did not do this.

He got paid a stipend for tutoring me and with the money he bought a clock for his mantle. He told me he would have never let anyone else teach me, and regardless of where I needed to go, he would have followed me.  The clock, kindly referred to as “Caroline’s Clock”, still sits on the mantle of his fireplace.  His family knows this and refers to it by my name as well.

Mr. Martin’s teachings were more than just academic.  His actions showed more to me than any school lesson he could have taught.  When we talked about this time back in our lives, both of our eyes welled up.  I had been wanting to reach out to him for years and let him know how thankful I was and still am for what he did.  When I told him how I felt, he responded “a part of teaching is showing your heart and once in a while a person or kid comes along that is special that you share your heart with, and you were one of those persons.”

I think he basically summed up why he was the best teacher I ever had and why he has left an endearing imprint on my heart and life, and I am sure, on the hearts and lives of many other children he has taught.

Happy Retirement, Mr. Martin.  Thank you for the positive influence you have made in the lives of hundreds of children throughout the years.

 

Room 452

Room 452 is where my life lay in the balance back in 1983.  The beeps of machines and buzz of nurses and doctors scurrying in and out of this room were a stark contrast to the isolating existence of being stowed away in the hospital.  In this room, prayers were said, tears were shed, lives were changed, and courage was shown.  In this room, a miracle occurred – the miracle of my life being brought back from the thin edge of death.

My mom kept every note, card, picture, and letter sent to me while in the hospital struggling to survive the ravenous bacteria that had already killed my uterus, right Fallopian tube, and right ovary before the doctors discovered it.  It was working its way to my bladder and throughout my abdomen when found….just in the nick of time.  Looking through these mementos of that fragile time makes me realize how very fortunate I am.

Of course, I am extremely blessed to be sitting here typing my story.  I am also even more encouraged by the faithful loving Father who gifted me with the adoption of my children despite the barrenness that entered my life.  But, I am not talking about these things when realizing how fortunate I am.  I am talking about the kindness, encouragement, generosity, compassion, and faith-driven prayers that were lifted up to our Father in Heaven in room 452.

The notes from my schoolmates were all very sweet and humorous.  They still show the type of innocence that made up typical eleven and twelve-year-old’s back in 1983.  Their wishes for a speedy recovery and for me to get back to school to play paled in comparison to how desperately ill I really was.  While I enjoy glancing through these scribbled and colorful letters, I find myself most moved by the cards and notes from adults.

Several of the cards and notes were from adults with-whom I had never met.  They were friends of my parents, friends of my extended family, and other adults who had become aware of a girl whose life had just been turned upside down.  These loving letters were sent to lift my spirits while they lifted me up to the Lord.

Years ago the wife of the doctor who performed my surgery disclosed that she led a small prayer vigil in her home that fateful night in 1983 when her husband had to perform one of the most difficult tasks in his medical career and adult life.  Again, there was a group of adult strangers tucked away pleading with the Lord to bring me through the surgery and for complete healing.  It blessed me immensely to hear she this.  I know the surgery greatly affected her husband as well.  He will always be one of my “angels on Earth”.

I do believe that prayer is quite simply one of the most authentic ways that Christians can express their beliefs in a loving, powerful God.  It is a mighty powerful thing, and I believe that the Lord listened to the cries of those who loved me during those days and nights while I fought to survive. It continues to make an incredible impression on me twenty-nine years later when coming across prayerful messages jotted down and sent to me during that time.

My life was forever changed in room 452.  My life was greatly impacted by my name being whispered to Heaven by the lips of adults.  As an adult now, I hope that I do not fail in lifting up children to the Lord.

In a world where it seems that children are the last things on politicians, leaders, and adults minds, we need to commit ourselves to being mindful of their futures.  We need to pray for this generation of young ones growing up in a fast pace, quick fix, and digital world.  Children need this now more than ever.

I wonder how many lives could be changed if Christians remembered to pray with purpose and passion for youth of this world.  It matters to people to know they are being prayed for.  There may not be a room 452 where a child needs prayer.  It could be in a hut, one room apartment, mansion, or even a street.  Will you commit yourself to lifting up children to the Lord?  You never know what kind of eternal impact can be made in the life of just one child in need.

Philippians 4:6-7

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

Motherhood Dreams

There she is. The picture above is from my daughter’s first dance recital.  It represents the ending of her introduction to dancing and, hopefully, the beginning of her interest in it.  It also represents something deeply personal for me.  It connects me to the dreams I had before becoming a mother.

As the recital was going on, I frequently looked around the room and noticed how proud the dads were of their little princesses.  I especially noticed the expressions of admiration and complete love the moms had while watching their little loves.  Watching their granddaughter dance brought back memories for my parents as well of when I was a young one twirling around on the stage.  Regardless of what may have occurred during the day, watching innocence on a stage brought us all back to what is truly important in life – children.

Children matter.

My eyes teared up while watching my sweet one dance around the stage.  I once dreamed of moments like this.  Growing up and into adulthood with the thought that I would never be a mother made me wonder about all of the precious little memories I would miss out on.  Things like watching a child walk for the first time, hearing the word “mama”, seeing excitement on Christmas morning, putting artwork on the refrigerator, passing on traditions, and watching recitals or various other activities.  My thoughts and longings were more than about not being able to have a baby.  I grieved over the possibility of not being able to explore talents, interests, and just life in general with a child.

I fretted over what my life would be like without children.  I wanted so much to pass on the good things I have learned in life and to steer a child away from the things that have caused me pain.  I believe that raising up children assures us that perhaps a little bit of us will linger on throughout life even when we have passed on.  If I never was able to do this, then there would not be any reminders of who I am after this life is over.  This is one thing about infertility that I am not sure a lot of people understand.  The simple act of watching a dance recital brought back the flood of emotions regarding my previous childless life.

Infertility is so complex and rears its ugly head from time to time when least expected.  But, in some respect, I am thankful that it catches me off guard.  I do not know if I would be able to run on the mountain tops with the full knowledge of how truly gifted I am to be a mother if I did not have the experience of being barren and walking through the valleys of infertility.

Thank You, Lord, for gifting me with the responsibility, hope, and simple joys of children.  Hold me accountable Father to Your will for my children.  Remind me, oh Lord, of my previous sorrow so that I will never take for granted the delight I now have.  Thank You, Lord, for walking me through the valley of infertility.  I praise You for running me along this mountain top of parenthood and for fulfilling my dreams.

PSALMS 127:3-5

3 Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.
4 Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth.
5 Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. 
They will not be put to shame when they contend with their opponents in court.

JAMES 1:17

17 Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

MARK 10:14

14 When Jesus saw this, he was indignant. He said to them, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these”

fostering His will

Back in 2006 when we first became foster parents, I was not really sure what to think about what we had just thrown ourselves into.  My husband and I understood the legalities and processes of being foster care parents, but of course, were not as prepared for the emotional and spiritual aspect of it.  I respected and followed the laws regarding reunification, but to be honest, deep down I knew that fostering children would help to fill the hole in my life that had existed due to being barren.

In some respects, it seemed that fostering was a noble cause, while on the other, it also felt like it was more about my needs.  In the end, we hoped to adopt but understood completely that there was no guarantee at all of this.

The same day we were licensed, we received our first placement of a precious little two-day-old baby boy.  We were ecstatic, excited, and nervous at the same time. The few first days with him were just a whirlwind of no sleep, visiting relatives, learning, and joy.  My body was so tired, but my mind was already set on imagining what was to come.  To be honest, I fell in love with him the minute I saw him.

On the Monday following the placement of this sweet little one in our home, the case worker called to establish visits, set up meetings, and to let me know they (the state) were looking into finding relatives.  This conversation was sobering and brought me back to the reality of being a foster care parent.  I was just someone to nourish this child while his birth parents gathered their lives back together.

As I was talking to her on the phone, this innocent little one was quietly sleeping in his crib.  He had no idea of the gravity of the conversation taking place.  His little life and the decisions being made for him were in the hands of the juvenile justice system.  As soon as the phone call ended, I dropped to the floor in front of his crib and immediately began sobbing.

In that moment of complete vulnerability, I started praying “Oh God, Your will not mine, Your will not mine, but if it is Your will for him to stay, Father, then show me the way Lord.  Help me through this.”  I held my hands up to Him as if I was holding this baby up to the Lord.

On my knees with my hands held up high facing this child that I was already passionately in love with was the most remarkable, yet heartbreaking moment of the beginning of my foster care journey.  In that moment, the Lord said to me “Caroline, this is not about you.  This is not about you.”

This was an “aha” moment, or more like an Amen moment.  Fostering this child really was not about me.  I thought going into it that I would be offering a “service” while getting my fill of mommy-moments, and that it would all just be okay.  Looking back, I believe that the Lord was proving Himself by refining me to be a person of less selfish desires and more humility.  This was about this child and his birth parents.  It was about the Lord’s will, not mine.

There were times throughout fostering him that I wondered and fretted over what the future held.  Again though, the Lord reminded me that I just had to act in love.  I had to wake up every day with the intention of being a loving foster parent to this child and of showing mercy to his birth mother.  One foot in front of the other…one day at a time.

Strange as it may sound, fostering a child with whom you would give your life for is like trying to swim in mud.  The more you try, the more energy you exert, and the more love you give, the thicker the mud seems to get.  Fostering this little one was also one of the most enriching experiences of my life.

Daily, the Lord gently reminded me that this journey was not about me, but about His will and His intentions over this child.  He also provided me with moments to walk humbly and act mercifully.  The Lord implored me to show love and to increase my prayer life.

Through prayer I found submission and trust; not just trust of a few of the details, but trusting God with complete wholeness.  His plan for our lives outweighed our intentions and was more powerful than anyone else’s.  My daily prayers for this baby boy included praying steadfastly for the Lord’s will.  They also included asking the Lord to help me put my desires behind and that He would bring clarity and intervention as fitting and according to His plan.

As the case moved along, I found myself more and more in love with the sweet one, but I also found myself caring deeply for his birth mother.  Some people said to me “I don’t know how you do it.”  I know how.  My faith became stronger, my leaning on His wisdom became more pure, and I met the Lord through His continual guidance that the only way to walk this path was with love.

When the case was over, almost two years later, we adopted our sweet boy.  I am so incredibly grateful and keenly aware of this tremendous blessing.  I am even more thankful though that I had to fall on my knees with hands held high, with tears streaming down my cheek, and with a heart of submission declaring “Oh God, Your will, not mine”.

Very Inspiring Blogger Award

I have been selected for the Very Inspiring Blogger Award by Transformed by the Journey and by greenlightlady. Thank you so much for this!  Head on over and check out their blogs.  Both are unique, inspirational, and give all glory to the Lord.

I appreciate the encouragement between fellow bloggers.  It has amazed me that so many people blog and write out their worlds for others to see and feel.  I’m amazed even more though that the Lord continues to bless my journey; not just my writing journey, but this journey of life.  Per the “rules” of being nominated for a blogging award, I have to disclose a few more things about myself.

Here they are:

1)  I get told I look very young for my age all of the time.  This used to bother me, but now that I am 40, it does not bother me anymore!

2)  I really hope to travel back to England one of these days. I went when I was 12 years old, and would love to experience it again.

3)  I once had a dream that I died and went to Heaven.  Jesus put His hand on my shoulder and said “Caroline, you are going to be okay.  I will take care of you.”  The next morning, I woke up with tears rolling down my cheeks and I could feel the imprint of His hand on my shoulder.

4)  While in college, I used to drive around between classes and look for lost pet signs.  I would then scour the neighborhoods searching for the animals.  I actually reunited a very old dog who had gotten lost with her owner!

5)  I am blessed to have a mom and dad who have been married for over 40 years…to each other.

6)  I am a sinner.

7)  I am saved.

I’m passing this award on to the following blogs that I find inspiring for a variety of reasons.  Some inspire me to be more steadfast in my faith while others inspire me to be creative and to dream big.  They are definitely worth reading!

SheLovesIsaiah

Infertility Awakening

At Home with God

A Humble Vessel

the 1 saved by grace

Simply Juliana

Dr. Jeff Krupinski’s Blog

Bucket List Publications

Love Letters 2 Christ

With All Joy

foster full

Chopstix for Six

Heartland Road

HappyTrails365

Susan Beckman’s Blog

Blessings to everyone and Happy Blogging!

valley of death, Mercy of Life

The picture above is me during my last week or so in the hospital following my hysterectomy in 1983. I had escaped out of the valley of death . That smile across my face gives no indication of what had just happened but speaks volumes to the God-given resilience of children.

This is the only time I have come close to death. I was in the dying process before the doctors and surgeons decided to perform exploratory surgery as an effort to find out what was happening to me. I learned of this detail about two to three years ago. I knew I was extremely ill but no one ever told me that I was literally dying.

Following this disclosure by the doctor who performed my surgery, I sat there quietly with tears rolling down my face. I was so close to death as a child and never knew it. I grieved at that moment for my parents, family, medical staff, and for myself. Yet, the tears that streamed down my face were not just of sadness, but also of joy over the revealing of His wisdom that flowed through the doctors’ hands and of His mercy that kept me alive.

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. – Psalm 23

I was in a Christian youth singing group called “The Sweet Spirits” for the first few years following my hysterectomy. The musical director specifically picked my solo to be a rendition of Psalm 23. My mom and other familiar adults got tearful when I sang this song. How apropos this song was. I had truly just walked through the valley of the shadow of death just a year or so prior.

From time to time, this Psalm flows through my thoughts and I find myself reciting it for days. It is rather morbid to think about walking through the valley of the shadow of death. However, as a Christian, it is comforting to know that the valley of death precedes the glory of His Kingdom.

I have been thinking lately that we are in some way always in the shadow of death. One wrong turn, one missed step, one random act, one diagnosis…the list goes on. I want to start living as though I am in the shadow of death, but I don’t want that to be my focus. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I do not want to take moments for granted. More importantly, I hope to live for His Kingdom and for the promise of eternal life in Christ.

There are many things that have died within me along this journey to Heaven. Old habits, lack of trust, thin faith, and disbelief…all of these have passed away so that I can truly have life in Him. The awesome thing about living a life of faith is that when things get difficult, or when the shadow of death seems to be getting closer, one can always look to the Lord and see His mercies through it all.

Lord, help me to see Your mercy not only when I am in the valley of death, but also when my cup runs over, when I am in front of my enemies, when the pastures are green and the water is still, and when my eyes are eternally fixed on You.