Because

Because you were so amazingly generous with your love and hospitality at STIR's Glisten and Give event earlier this month, close to forty families (including many mothers staying in the unit alone) in the Arkansas Children's Hospital Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit in Little Rock were served a meal and received a large (and I repeat LARGE) Christmas gift bag with goodies such as candy bars, popcorn, gum, magazines, pop tarts, granola bars, hand lotion, fuzzy socks...and the list goes on!!

Here are some highlights from December 11, 2013...

All family members got a boxed dinner with a sandwich and chips from here and a cupcake from here:)

Our sweet Beka let us come up to her dorm room at UALR and package up all the food and get the goodies ready for delivery...

We might have been having way too much fun!!!:)  And I want to thank Jessica Meinardus who isn't in any of these pictures because she was taking them all!!!  And once again, her photos are priceless..

I was SO excited to see Libby waiting for us at the ACH entrance to help us get everything up to the unit.  Libby was there when our Glory Girl was in the unit and it was ALWAYS so nice to see her face...

Words cannot express the love I have for Amanda.  I don't believe either one of us knows how much Glory impacted both of our lives...

Heading inside...

On the move...

Unloading the boxed dinners...  I wish you could have all seen the gratitude on the faces of these families...

STIR ladies, I cannot thank you enough for making my passion your own.  I know you understand that this was one of the best days of my life and I am honored to serve with you...

Handing out the food...

Because you chose to share the burdens of these families.  Because you chose to love our Glory Girl. Because God has a greater plan.  Because God's love for me is too great to let me be silent.  Because of faith, hope, and love...love is the greatest, you have changed lives.

Saying thank you seems inadequate, but I hope that you can see that your love can change stories and cause them to live on.  I look forward to the next opportunity to serve these precious families with you...

Glisten

As many of you know, I am honored to be a part of STIR (Socials To Ingnite Response), a local non-profit organization seeking to stir women's hearts and ignite action in response to the injustice happening all around our community and our world.

STIR is almost one year old now and we are learning more and more each day about the direction God is moving in.  We are so blessed and it is so exciting to get to be a part in His big story!

STIR was presented to me a little less than a year ago as I was just beginning to live again after a very difficult few months following the death of my youngest daughter, Glory.  It was the answer to my prayer of, “Where do I go from here?”

And even though the STIR team continues (and will continue) to learn how to better reach those around us to stir their hearts and ignite action - even though our socials, events, venues, and cuisines might evolve a little from month to month - one thing unites all of us - our passion to love those around us and make a difference in our community and in our world.

And next month STIR is connecting you with my passion.. So it is with GREAT excitement that I am able to invite you to our first STIR Christmas Glisten and Give Event on Monday, December 2 at Madame’s Main Attraction in Van Buren.  

To me, this event is the beginning of the realization of a passion that was actually born while my Glory Girl was still sticking her tongue out and smiling in the Arkansas Children’s Hospital Cardiovascular Intensive Care Unit in Little Rock, Arkansas.  When you enter a place where children are fighting for every breath you are likely encountering parents at the most vulnerable point in their lives.  During the 16 months that I was in the CVICU with Glory it became very clear to me that the sick children were well taken care of, but the parents had just stepped off a cliff and were in a free-fall.  I witnessed families being torn apart, divorce, jobs lost, lack of transportation, and the list goes on. 

My passion is to love these parents by providing them not only with food and shelter, but with a hope that they may never have experienced…the hope we have because Jesus loved us first.  I want them to see my life and the STIR team and supporters and want what we have - a joy that comes regardless of our circumstances.  

I am inviting you to be a part of this outreach!  Because of our faith, we can show them hope and love.  

Come join us on Monday, December 2, at 7pm in Van Buren, Arkansas for a special evening of food, fun, and fellowship and help us pamper these families by bringing one or more of the items listed above.  On December 11th (the anniversary of the day Glory Girl went to be with Jesus), the STIR team will take these items along with a catered dinner to the Arkansas Children’s Hospital CVICU Family Room for these parents to enjoy.

Please contact me if you are interested in purchasing a ticket to this event…because of our space, we are limited as to the number we have available.  I can’t thank you enough for helping me make this passion a reality so that we can change lives together…

Identity

As mom pulled the car into the parking lot I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to get my legs to move from the floorboard to the asphalt when the ignition shut off.  The Arkansas Tech University dorm loomed ahead of me.  Time to be on my own.  Time to drink something other than my grandmother's sweet tea.  Time to move beyond slumber parties to roommates, community bathrooms, and sorority parties.  Time to be independent.

But I wasn't feeling it.  

Why did every girl but me have a brightly-colored comforter that matched someone else's?  How did they know each other?  Did I miss a pre-dorm party?  I knew no one!  The only two people I knew were getting ready to drive back to my home town in about an hour and eat my grandmother's chicken and dumplings.  (I'm not sure about the chicken and dumplings but I'm sure it was something other than cafeteria food.)  My mom was quiet as we finished putting away what amounted to enough stuff for about five college students, and my brother has since told me that visiting my college dorm was what made him want to go to college.

As I was walking them out of the dorm I remember thinking, "It would at least be nice to know someone to sit in the cafeteria with!"   

"Hey!  Do I know you?"  I heard someone yell from behind us.  Whew!  I knew I had to know someone.  We all turned around and I noticed the girl wasn't looking at me, but starting a conversation with my brother.  Yep, I knew no one but my brother was right at home.

"Daniel!  Remember me?"

I have been known as "Daniel's Sister" a few times in my life and I have always loved it!  Have you met my brother?  I could go on and on...I'll just tell you he's awesome.

But at that lonely moment I really just wanted to meet someone to go eat the mystery cafeteria casserole with.

Even though I have always been more than happy for my identity to be associated with my brother, in our culture there is often a negative connotation in having an identity tied up with someone else's.  As though if we couldn't have an independent identity we were weak or not good enough.  Why is that?  Where did that mentality come from?

I'm so glad a big part of my identity is wrapped up in these two guys...my brother, Daniel, on the left and my husband, Philip, on the right.  We like sunglasses.

I think our idea that we must have an identity independent of anyone else's could be hurting us.  I am overjoyed to be Daniel's Sister.  Glory's Mother and Advocate.  Philip's Wife.  Eliana's Mother.  If it weren't for those roles, who would I be?  What if we all let our identities be wrapped up in the less fortunate, the poor, the hungry, the widows, the oppressed?  What if you were known as the one who loved the unloveable?  The one who housed the orphans?  The one who gave clean water to those who had none?  

Our identities might not be independent, but they would be eternal.

Wait

This past Saturday I went to a retreat for moms who have lost children.  Jill Sullivan and Janice Brown, along with their husbands, formed While We're Waiting after they connected through the deep pain of loosing children.  And although deep pain is what connected all of us that were there... laughter, memories, and love is what we all experienced together on Saturday.  It's not a connection you ever wish to have, but it will connect women like no other.

Each mom was given the chance to share her story and all of them were powerful.  When I tell Glory's story there are some main points that I usually try to hit on - how we named her Glory, my faith, her unstopping fight to live, how I am a new person, and how I don't want to use my time while I wait to see her again by being silent.  I think all of the moms would agree that although there is a lot of disappointment and heartache in our stories, we heal a little more each time we tell them.

At this particular retreat our Glory Girl was the youngest in heaven and then the ages went up from teen to adult.  All of them beautiful - inside and out.  A beautiful high school student with the world at her feet.  Strong, brave men who played roles of son, husband, and father.  And it made me think of something I thought often in the CVICU as I stared at Glory while she slept - something I rarely mention when I tell her story.

How could something this beautiful die?  She is so sweet.  She is so cute.  She's too precious to die.  Sounds superficial, right?

It was.

But whether these thoughts were shallow and superficial or deep and meaningful, it was the sentiment that swallowed all other thoughts when I walked into her room and saw perfection lying in a hospital crib with too many tubes and meds to count.  She's too beautiful.  My mind would not allow itself to travel as far as death.  It was such a hard road from believing that your child would grow up and have children of her own, to the death of your baby.  I remember the pain associated with realizing the only thing we could give her was love - and that was all she needed.

But, wait...how could I not face this reality knowing what had happened in the past.  Someone infinitely more beautiful than my Glory Girl died two thousand years ago, and, because of Him, my fear - the place I could not imagine traveling to - has already been visited.  So the only thing I have to wait for is a reunion...

Stir

I plunged my wooden spoon down into the center of the batter and carefully pulled it up and toward the outside of the glass bowl only to repeat the process again after slightly turning my bowl after each stir.  The smell of vanilla mixed with buttermilk and flour made it difficult not to eat the mixture before it made it to the hot, buttered skillet.  I allowed myself only about ten stirs.  If you have ever made pancakes - or if you have ever heeded Alton Brown's advice - you should  NEVER over-mix.  In fact, there should still be small clumps of flour mixture remaining in your batter when you are finished.

As the pancake batter hit the pan and began to sizzle, I heard little footsteps make their way to the kitchen counter and onto the bar stool in hopes that glaring at the cook might speed the final product into existence.  My six-year old was overjoyed that I was making these pancakes for supper.  Yes - supper - not breakfast.  And maybe her presence did hurry the little delicacies along - I scooted the first finished product from my spatula onto her plate before you could say "bacon", and the maple syrup was flowing before you could say "eggs".  And, as if pancakes for dinner were not enough, the next thing I heard out of her mouth was,

"Can I have chocolate chips on top?"

My kinda girl.  And, I figured since I was making cakes covered in liquid sugar for dinner, I might as well answer her question with a "yes".

I asked a very different kind of question about two months ago.  No, it had nothing to do with chocolate chips.

The God who flooded me with light and hope while Glory was alive had chosen to rescue me from a journey through darkness that I had been traveling since about six months after Glory had died.  He had given me a new purpose that I never would have had if not for my struggle.  My questions was...

"Where do I begin?  How do I find the road to action to fulfill Your purpose for me?  How can my story be used to stir others into action?"

Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find;  knock and the door will be opened to you.
Matthew 7:7    

He answered my question by bringing me together with three other women - all with stories of pain and redemption - to accomplish His plan.

STIR is an organization formed by four women who have been rescued.  Four women who desire to share their stories with the purpose of acting to help our hurting world and to stir others into acts of compassion and love.  I am honored to be a part of the STIR team and was blessed to be able to share Glory's Story at our first brunch on Saturday.  STIR has a Facebook page and you can find them here on Twitter.  

I can't wait to share with you where God takes Glory's Story next - I have no idea what this journey will look like - but I'm so glad you are taking it with me...

Glimpse

Stories have been told since the beginning of time.  Passed down from generation to generation.  Spread across the world from one country to another.  Embellished with fictional dragons, wizards, and lands where trees walk and speak.  Inspired by a truth that will not be silent.

Today, stories can be told in many different ways - through books, movies, blogs, and the list goes on.  What do you do when you are on the brink of hearing a story?

I like to feel like I'm in a place of security and comfort.  A place where I can concentrate on what is being told and have ample time for my mind to absorb it and to let my thoughts wander with it.  Time to learn from it.  Time to find the meaning.  And then, if it is the kind of story that is told to STIR the listener to move, time to search for the road to action.

Then He told them many things by using stories...
Matthew 13:3

This is me and my good friend Rebecca.  We have something in common - Our Stories.

Our stories aren't exactly the same, but there is one similarity - the stories that brought us together didn't have the happy ending that we wanted them to.  In fact, they really haven't ended at all.

I know, I know.  You're thinking... "that's really not too great of a way to form a bond with someone - a story with a sad ending."  Am I right??

Let me assure you that these stories do not have a sad ending.  And let me tell you why it is the greatest way to connect with people and form friendships that will never be broken.  The stories that unite us are still being told today, and even though they didn't end the way we had imagined, they have produced a joy and a passion and a purpose that we never could have imagined or experienced if we had never been the main characters in our own stories.  And it is through sharing these stories that we are able to see a glimpse of Glory...

Every Reason

I am gazing through my office window looking over the treetops to the other side of the cold creek that lies who-knows-how-far below my house at the bottom of a rocky cliff.  Remnants of snow lay on the ground and blasts of cold air are trying to push the cedars to their breaking point.  My wind chimes have not rested all morning.  Birds are pecking at the hard ground looking for anything to satisfy their hunger.  It's the kind of day that implores you to stop working and curl up under a blanket on the couch with a mug of hot cocoa.  I'm trying to resist the appeal...

But even in the middle of this bleak season, nature knows that it will not remain frozen with no hope.  The birds know it.  The trees know it.  The rocks know it.  

Something different is just over the horizon.  The snow will melt.  The cold wind will be traded for summer breezes.  The solid earth will soften and offer up flowers and all things green and colorful.       

For I am about to do something new.  See, I have already begun!  Do you not see it?  I will make a pathway through the wilderness.  I will create rivers in the dry wasteland.  Isaiah 43:19

You are every reason for every hope that we have.  Every dream.  Every season of joy.  Every light in the darkness.  Your Glory fills the sky...

Keep Moving Forward...

Do you ever feel the need to just keep moving forward?  Driven by a fear of standing still?  Worried you might turn back into the person you were yesterday - the person that inhaled raw cookie dough straight from the fridge?  With a spoon?

Me, too.  I just needed to write.

And share this pic.

No, the chocolate smudged on her face is not cookie dough.  It's from a cupcake.  And, given the fact that she never really ate food via her mouth, she was not pleased that a cupcake was forced smudged onto her pinkish-blue pursed lips (and, for the record, I didn't do it).  And that dislike of chocolate is one of the few things we did not have in common.   Although, in her defense, she never really got to develop a taste for good food.  Wonder what she's enjoying now?

I also realized today that I used to think that if I ate a piece of bread and chose to eat the crust along with it (which was a hard decision when I was a kid) that I was eating the "healthy" part of the bread.  Like eating the peel of an apple has actual additional nutrition that the flesh lacks, I thought the crust on a loaf of bread had vitamins and minerals that the middle of the bread did not.  Until I was making Eliana a peanut butter and honey sandwich today, and realized that the crust I was cutting off was in reality just the outside of a loaf of bread that had taken on some additional browning in the baking process.  Why are we so concerned that our kids will never eat the crust?  Am I the only one who had this strange idea about the bread dough that just happened to be on the outside and got all nice and brown?

Just some random thoughts to send your way...

One Word

Sixty seconds never went by without a machine beeping.  It was usually signaling that her oxygen levels had dropped below the parameter set on the machine.  Respiratory therapists would come and do their treatment on her, which was similar to when a massage therapist performs a percussion-type regimen on your back.  She never found her "massage" quite as relaxing as I do.  Her oxygen levels would improve if I held her up to my chest with her face squished against my collarbone.  Then I could smell her head.  You know the smell of a baby's head - it can't be described by or compared to anything else on earth...other than a baby's sweet, head smell.  I would hold her on my chest for hours.  I wouldn't be able to feel my legs since they were being sandwiched between her and a hard, wooden rocking chair.  She slept.  I cherished.  Soon we would be interrupted by doctor's rounds, a dirty diaper, or meds that needed to be given.  I remember thinking that only one word described how I felt at that moment - lucky.  The luckiest girl in the world to be holding this Glory.

I haven't used the word lucky to describe anything relating to my world since those days in the CVICU rocking chair...

Until now.

And blessed be his glorious name for ever: and let the whole earth be filled with his Glory...
Psalms 72:19