Not Today, Planned Parenthood

One year ago TODAY (at 9:26 am to be exact) Sophie’s dermatologist called her with the news: your pregnancy test came back positive. (I mean, isn’t that how everyone finds out?)

Every moment of the next couple weeks were difficult on many levels. We couldn’t think about anything else but what this meant for Sophie.

She’d had a trip to Nashville planned for months and was determined not cancel it. I’d say she looked forward to being away in order to clear her mind and think. She told us she would be visiting Planned Parenthood when she got there. We begged her not to—but seriously? She was a 20 year old adult and had to make the choice of bringing a child into this world on her own, no matter how much we wanted to make the decision for her.

Here’s what Planned Parenthood told her.

They laid out her choices, making sure to cover all the bases. Keep, adopt or terminate. They weren’t mean or nasty, but did their job like they do for countless others who walk through their doors.

She paid them four hundred dollars on the spot. That covered her blood test, a group consult with a nurse and the other girls in the room, an ultrasound, and a 20 minute private consult with another woman she assumed was the director of that PP.

Then, on that warm spring Wednesday morning, they told Sophie she was a good candidate for the abortion pill since she was only six or seven weeks along. Mifepristone, which along with a second pill called misoprostol, would induce a medication abortion. “It’s best to be close to home when you take it,” they said. If she went with that option, she could return in 48 hours and for another $200 get the pills in a brown paper bag and be on her way.

She asked, “I’m driving to Wyoming on the same day I’d need to come back and get the pills. Is that ok?”

They thought about it. “We wouldn’t typically advise taking them when you’re so far from home but it should be ok. Be aware that you’ll be in a lot of pain on the drive home.”

Somewhere along the way, our prayers interrupted every other plan and she called to tell us she couldn’t go through with having an abortion.

In case you’re wondering, here’s what Planned Parenthood DIDN’T tell her (and what they won’t tell you either):

He will have big blue eyes that’ll light up like saucers when he sees you walk into a room. His fluffy cheeks, like sugar spun marshmallows, will be kissed by you no less than a hundred times a day. When you hold him, you’ll find yourself completely taken by his newborn smell. There’s nothing like it! He will have a little button nose, perfectly round, that looks just like yours. There will be nights when you can’t keep your eyes open during another midnight feeding, but he will look straight at you and smile. And when he does, you’ll fall in love with that little dimple on his left cheek every-single-time. Because everything about this little guy matters—from his peach fuzz head to his ten chunky toes.

Sure he was unplanned, completely unexpected, but his life is no accident. It will hit you one day that he knows, understands in an unexplained miraculous way, what you went through, that it wasn’t an easy decision, that you had a choice. You opted for the difficult path, believed you could do what many thought you couldn’t and chose to give him life. And you’d choose him all over again.

So yes, we are celebrating because last year on this very day we thought life was over. And now we won’t stop, we literally can’t stop, talking about life.

#NotTodayPP #chooselife #chooselove #celebrate #grateful #blessed

 

For My Son

I had to do a double take to make sure it was you.

Blue eyes, I’d recognize them anywhere.
Tight smile that curves to form a half moon–
I’ve seen it since your kindergarten school picture.
Those hands—if you were covered in camouflage from head to toe, I’d pick them out of a thousand. Long spindly fingers, knuckles with scars from hitting the wall, and a few people.

It must be the uniform—
I’m not used to seeing you in anything besides sweatshirts and jeans with holes.
You are more handsome today than any Sunday you proudly wore Dad’s sports coat and shoes that were a size too big for your feet.

So I look at your picture for the hundredth time and realize everything in a single moment. You aren’t the boy who left us in July. To be honest, I’m having a difficult time admitting who you’ve become, for reasons too many to list.

I tell myself: mourn one last time for that boy. The freckled faced kid whose room was always a disaster, gobs of tennis shoes thrown into the closest, shirts half hanging out of the drawer, a miracle they made it that far. The boy who feasted on Sour Patch Kids and mashed potatoes and chicken nuggets drenched in buffalo sauce from Chick-Fil-A.

Your boyhood went by quickly and part of me wishes you could have held on a little longer, seen a few more Friday night lights, come home smelling like a campfire another time or two, mud on your boots, and your flannel smelling the woods you spent the night in. A few more times when your friends showed up unexpectedly and sat on the barstools as we laughed over chocolate chip cookies and glasses half filled with milk. You and me, watching reruns of The Office for hours, going to the movies and getting large blue icee’s and quietly pulling out candy from Walgreen’s that was stuffed in my purse.

Today I tucked that boy into bed for the final time. I must move on.

 Now.

I see you, Son, more confident that you’ve ever been. Your uniform pressed, tie perfectly straight, hair shaved to a perfect fade. Your smile says all I need. You are happy, you are strong. You are doing more than I ever dreamed for you, accomplished on your own. You doing this without me is what makes me prouder than I’ve ever been.

Now go.

The path is leading you to places I will never see or experience with my own eyes. But know this. I will be with you, my thoughts and prayers hovering over you like the weighted blanket I recently bought for you, only a pound or four heavier.

I said GO. Be the man God intended you to be. It’s your time to shine and put everything you’ve learned, even some of what we’ve taught you, into motion. It won’t be easy, because being an adult is never easy, yet every trial you face today will produce endurance for tomorrow. Stay strong.

And pray. Pray like never before when you’re in need. Because God is with you, like never before. He has all the strength you’ll ever need, so dig deep and grab hold of His strength with the fierceness of a fighter who never gives up.

I love you, Son. And I love this new man who takes what he has been called to with great seriousness, who squares his shoulders back before telling me things I don’t understand. It all makes sense now. How everything we ever went through with you built you up for such a time as this. Not all boys become the man you are. Only the bravest have what it takes.

Thank you for being one of the bravest.

An Eye On Home

I was sitting on the front porch when Roxy and Sable started sniffin’ the air. Instantly the rain came at a downpour, even leaking through a few of the boards overhead. I scooped Roxy up and ran inside.

Sable looked at me with weepy baby browns. “You’re not making me go home in this are you?” 

As I curled up in my favorite chair, both dogs ran circles of delight around each other that they’d found shelter from the storm. I propped the heavy front door open but kept the storm door closed so I could enjoy any outside light that snuck in.

Sable appeared right at my feet when I went to make a cup of coffee. I practically tripped over her more than once but was giddy with excitement at having a big dog in the house (note to self: begin big-puppy shopping soon). After I made my way back to my comfy spot, the dogs were ready for a nap. Roxy relaxed in her bed and Sable plopped down in front of the storm door. Thinking she wanted back out, I opened it all the way even as the rain pounded the ground. She didn’t budge. She was content as long as she could do one thing…

Keep an eye on her home.

The front of our cabin has a perfect view of the back of Sable’s house. On the typical day she saunters up a worn pathway to the front porch after her owner leaves. She spends warm afternoons lounging beside me or underneath the shade of the cedar tree. Oh, but let her hear the crunchy-crunch-crunch of her owner’s tires along the gravel and I’m all but a memory. I can’t blame her; her heart lies with her master. He provides food, a place to rest, and keeps the local coyotes from approaching. You can be sure I tempt her with treats throughout the day, but no milk bone has ever been enough to outrank the loyalty she has for her owner.

How about you? When was the last time you thought about Home? Not your pitiful earthly dwelling made from fancy stone and expensive brick; you know the Home I am speaking of. When was the last time you felt like Sable who eagerly waits and watches everyday for when her Master will return?

I’ll be honest and say that life gets in the way. Storms come over the mountain and my problem makes me take my eyes off Home.

Or better yet, circumstances begin going my way. Things I’ve prayed for appear on my doorstep. A dream comes true. I go a week without losing it in front of the kids. The bills are paid and there is money left over. The boss gives me the employee-of-the-month award and the best raise I’ve ever had—and a beautiful haze lures my eyes away from Home.

Yes, our present circumstances must be taken care of. We can’t sit on the front porch and gaze into the clouds all day. But can we afford to get so sidetracked with the hardships or beauty of life that we avert our eyes for even a second? I think not.

I urge you today to take heart—this world is not our Home. (That should be the best news you hear all day!) What about you then? Are you expectantly waiting? Are you hopefully watching? Can you hear the pangs of this world that echo He could return for us any time?

You better believe that people are in the fight of their lives at this very second. I know some who are sitting in ICU right now believing for the healing of a child. I know a family warring against the terrible sickness of cancer taking their loved ones life. Someone is fighting for their marriage, someone is praying that grief doesn’t overtake them. And yet, someone has never been richer or more successful than they are today, and someone is fortunate enough to be living out their greatest dream. However, midst the trial, midst the full extent of the joy, I hope we all find the strength to be like Sable and…

Keep our eye on Home.

 

 

Grace… There’s an App for That

A few years ago I got one of those pink-sherbet colored phones. What a loss when I couldn’t catch her before she took a nosedive into the pool during Eli’s swimming lesson. A few months later, my replacement phone literally jumped from my back pocket and into the toilet bowl (pre-anything, I promise). Then after purchasing  a cool new iPhone, I placed it in the cup holder where a bottle of water had spilled overnight. It wasn’t until I pulled into the office and picked up my phone that I realized it was dripping…and dead.

Late Sunday we were driving home to Nashville from Georgia. Instead of putting my iPhone on my lap, I sleepily put it into a half empty cup of coffee that I insisted on drinking without a lid. My ninety-two cent cup of coffee will end up costing me dearly.

Me + All the stupid stuff I’ve done over the years = A lot of wasted money and time

I’ve locked my keys in the car while pumping gas—misplaced my keys at the mall, called a locksmith to open the car and make a new key, then found the keys under a pile of clothes in the junior department after he finished—I bounced a check or two—lost my debit card (forty times at least)—lost my check book—lost my wallet—lost my keys again—lost my phone again—lost my license—bought a greeting card business because I heard about it on WLIX—dropped my phone down the air conditioning duct—drove my husband’s car for the first time and ran into the curb at Walgreens causing a flat tire—backed into my husband’s truck—refused to read a map or ask for directions only to go three hours out of the way—purchased a dog with a credit card…

Must I prolong the agony?

My first comment to Regi on Monday was, “Just buy me a cheap flip phone with no capabilities to do anything.” Actually I deserve nothing less than a beeper at this point.

Why do we expect punishment when we mess up—because we don’t deserve any better? Because we’re so pitiful and grace applies to everyone except us? Because in everything from petty phone disasters to life altering decisions we should have used more wisdom or showed some restraint?

Maybe it’s because we have lost sight of the enormity of grace.

“But God gives us even more grace…” James 4:6 (NCV)

It doesn’t say that God gives us a measured bit of grace. Instead, James very purposefully uses the present tense of “gives” which can only mean one thing. That He will never tire of dishing out grace every time I need it. No matter how many times I ask!

“After you have suffered for a little while, the God of all grace, the one who called you into his eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will himself restore, empower, strengthen, and establish you…” 1 Peter 5:10 (CEB)

And after I’ve gone a round or two against myself, it finally registers what Peter meant when he penned those words (and with a little help from www.Dictionary.com):

  • He establishes me: He causes me to be accepted or recognized
  • He restores me: He gives back; make return or restitution of (anything taken away or lost)
  • He empowers me: He gives power or authority to me; He authorizes, especially by official or legal means
  • He strengthens me: He makes me become stronger
I know, I know. This is a silly little story. But if it caused you to rethink the wonder of grace then I’m glad my phone died. I simply think we must grasp the truth that grace isn’t just about accepting His forgiveness, but is allowing God to do a work in us in spite of our big mess-ups.

 

“So now what,” you may ask. Well, of course I’m going to get another phone—and of course there’s the likely possibility that something will eventually happen to it. But in the purest form of grace, my husband will make a trip to the Apple store, ask what color I’d like this time, (and possibly insist on a waterproof case), then pay for it. All without saying, “This is your last chance,” or “I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” or worse, “You don’t deserve this.”

And guess what? I’ll walk away from yet another fumble in life all the richer because I experienced the power of grace. Again.

How about you? Have you experienced grace lately?

God Has Not Left the Building

Recently I had a migraine. Often I have to take a pill, go to a quiet spot, and lie down before I find any relief.

I thought I’d find that relief in my bed but no sooner did I lie down that Roxy curled up at my feet. She doesn’t require much so I didn’t shoo her away. Then came Regi who wanted to watch the Olympics from his favorite spot. Next, and wouldn’t you know it, Eli decided to plop down between us. All we needed was Sophie to complete the moment, but she was dealing with a sinus infection and wouldn’t be showing up to the party.

Silence was nowhere to be found. Regi was cheering on the runners and Eli was intent on finding the best price, size and color of his latest obsession—Nike Free.

“What do you think of this color, Mom?”

“Hmmm. Nice.”

“Ohhh. How about these pink ones? They look more like your style.”

“Hmmm. Sure.”

“What size are you? 7.5? Or just a 7? They cost less here, Mom. Want to see them? Maybe I could get some too. Here Dad, what do you think? Maybe the whole family should get a pair.”

On and on and on and on. I tried to act interested when all I wanted was the headache to leave. I went downstairs without telling anyone and slipped between the heavy jersey sheets of one of Eli’s twin beds. They draped over me as I smashed his pillow over my head. All I could hear was the distant whirring of the fan. Peace.

Then Regi realized I was missing and came to find me.

“Are you okay?”

“Leave me to die in peace,” I wanted to say.

“My head is killing me.” He rubbed my temples for a few minutes, got me an ice pack, and left.

Next came Eli. “Mom, are you okay?”

“Seriously? You again?” I wanted to say.

“Yes.”

Happy that I was going to be fine, he left. Right as Sophie came into the room.

“Mom, are you okay?” she whispered.

How does a mom do to get a little peace around here?

“Headache.”

“Oh.”

She took her laptop and climbed into the other twin bed and went about conducting her business next to me, in her brother’s room, for no apparent reason (you have to have a 14 year old daughter to even understand the enormity of this). The first day of school was tomorrow and she wouldn’t be going due to her fever; yet she left the comfort of her bed to be with me. I didn’t hear a thing from her, nor could I see her; I was buried in the pillow. But I felt her. Every now and then I heard her take a breath, maybe even smile if that’s possible, but that’s it.

Soon I didn’t feel the pain as much as I felt her presence.

We sat there for about fifteen minutes without speaking. I loved that she wanted to be near me so much that I stopped focusing on my pounding headache. When she slipped out unannounced, I immediately felt a change in the room.

“Get to the point,” you say.

Very often I’m guilty of assuming that I have to ask God to show up to my circumstance, as if he’s only available on Mondays and Wednesdays to perform his wonder-working-power. You know, let everything come up roses and I’m confident in my salvation. But let the house not sell or the IRS send a large bill and I’m all like, “Oh God! Where are you?!”

Psalm 34:18 (The Message) says, “If your heart is broken, you’ll find God right there; if you’re kicked in the gut, he’ll help you catch your breath.”

It doesn’t say He’ll only show up as an earthquake to destroy whoever kicked you in the stomach! Nor does it say He will only show up as a hurricane force wind and topple whatever stands in the way of your miracle. It says, “You’ll find God right there,” and that means in the midst of exactly where you are.

Just like when Sophie was in the room, the presence of God is always with me—abiding so quietly that I forget (even doubt) He’s there. Trust me, I’d come close to begging if it meant He’d speak audibly every once in a while, or at least scribble something on the wall as a confirmation.

Alas, that’s just not how he works (in my life anyway).

Because lately I find that I’m most aware of His presence when I’m in the throes of my deepest pain. And the powerful and effectual presence of God that I wish would just raise a hand and stop the gale force winds? It grabs a hammer instead and helps me batten down the hatches so we can ride out the storm together.

So if your world is crumbling, don’t take it as a sign He has left the building. I promise He’s with you in the emergency room, living room, guest room, and your son’s room when you have a headache. He’s on the plane with you, in the train with you, and even in your car when it’s broken down on the side of the interstate. Sometimes it’s as a mighty presence but other times it’s as the whisper of a breath that fills the darkness reminding you of one of His greatest promises ever…

“I will never leave your or forsake you.”

Things I Do Not Know

Why do I speed up when we get to a yellow light?

Why do you take the short way home when the long route offers the beautiful view?

Why can’t you find a spouse or have a child?

Why is your marriage is failing?

Why did the chicken cross the road?

So many things and so many reasons I just don’t know.

I don’t know why people die when they’re young
Or before they get to meet their first grandchild.

I don’t know why people stop praying
Stop hoping
Stop trusting
And make so many rules that not even Jesus could have followed them.

I don’t know why there are more fireflies in the country or what their purpose is other than to make kids happy on summer nights.

I don’t know why we fight with the people we love the most

Or why your business isn’t successful

Or why you can’t find a job.

I don’t know why you find jokes funny that I think are stupid

Or why some people are just plain odd.

I simply don’t know.

I don’t know why we’re living in the country in a house that’s not ours
Or why I started blogging when there are days I have nothing to say and the last thing I want to do is write about nothing when I really do have a lot to say.

I don’t know why my son isn’t a better reader
Or why people make such a big deal that their child is
Or why we push our kids to grow up too soon
Only to wish time would stop so they’d be little again.

I don’t know why I ask for things and don’t get them
Or why I get things I don’t ask for.

I don’t know why friends move away
Or why it’s so difficult to make new friends
Or why we don’t see good friends more often
Or why friends are even important.

Don’t we deserve an explanation to at least one Why?

I don’t know if the sun will come out tomorrow
If Jesus will return tomorrow
If the child fighting for his life will live until tomorrow
Or if I’ll continue putting off today what I could do tomorrow.

I don’t know why I write and talk all high-and-mighty when I haven’t even walked over to meet my new neighbors yet. I don’t know.

I don’t know why I am in this appointed place in life, what we’re doing here, or how this is supposed to change my life. I don’t know if I truly hear God telling me something or if it’s me telling myself what I want to hear. I don’t know how long I’m going to be here getting shin splints from walking on raw wooden floors or how living in a cabin is going to be anything more than living in a cabin.

I. Do. Not. Know.

Do you?

I don’t know why I cry for no apparent reason and whether the tears are happy or sad. I don’t know if the people I look up to ever feel the same crazy way I feel and ask the same crazy questions I do.

I don’t know why cancer can’t be cured
Why innocent kids are abused
Why people go hungry
Why people are homeless
Or why more people don’t help the homeless and hungry.

But…

God is faithful. God is stable. God is understanding. God is kind.

And He knows. Yes, God knows everything.

He knows why you are there and I am here. He knows how long you’ll be there and I’ll be here. He may choose to make it clear, He may not.

But ALL things work together for good. And ALL THINGS means ALL THINGS. The things we know, the things we don’t. The good and the bad. The unclear, the clear, the scary, the beautiful, the kind, the mean, the death, the life, the valleys, the mountains, the cabin, the kids, the short and scenic route. All for good…

How do I know this?

Because I trust God.

Come to think about it…that’s about all I do know.

 

 

Are You Barely Hanging On?

It’s been one of those weeks. Busy, yet quiet. Full, yet empty.

Sophie, Morgan, Eli, Hannah and I joined Regi at an engagement in Pensacola Beach over Memorial Day weekend. Friends, family and the beach: the perfect way to begin our summer. When we returned, I thought for sure some magical fairies would have packed for me. They didn’t and now my house is a wreck. Open boxes, sealed plastic containers, to-be-purged pile, and to-be-stored pile all growing by the minute. I simply want to close on Point A so that we can get to Point B. I’m done with where I’ve been, ready to move on.

Ever feel like you’re barely holding on?

My favorite day over the weekend was the one spent at Navarre Beach. The clear and shallow water (for the most part) was amazing. I knew the depth of the water by the color of the blue. Dark blue=deep. Light blue=shallow. Bluish white=sand bar. Our goal was to follow the bluish white because it would take us to places we otherwise wouldn’t go. My petite eight-year-old niece was with us and I have to admit, she has a mind of her own. I figured she knew that that to go back to shore, she had to carefully follow the sand bar after telling me she was heading back to collect seashells. She didn’t realize the current threw us a little off track while swimming and that she’d have to adjust her path in order to follow the sand bar back in.

She headed towards Regi who was near shore. He’s not a good swimmer so anything below the knee and he’s of no use if you need him to rescue you. The main difference between us is that I don’t worry very much when it comes to the water because I grew up around it. He didn’t, so I’m always telling him he worries too much. When I saw Hannah go sloshing back to shore, I didn’t think much of it. But Regi already knew what was about to happen.

And it did. Her short little legs stepped into the dark blue and she was forced to tread water without really knowing how. I was out of reach and didn’t even realize she had encountered choppy water. Regi yelled for me to notice while starting out to the deep, knowing that he’d be in trouble soon. I began swimming towards her, the adrenalin pushing each stroke. She wasn’t so far that I wouldn’t get to her in time, but you know that feeling of “What if?” Regi signaled a gentleman closer to help when he realized he couldn’t go further. Hannah did her best to swim into his waiting arms; he grabbed her and delivered her to shore. I got a strong talking to by my husband.

The situation ended without great alarm but it certainly could have gone another way.

Ever feel like you’re doing more than holding on? Like squeezing someone’s hand so tightly that you’re cutting off his (the) circulation. Like treading water in a deep ocean for longer than you’d like. Your alternative would be to give up and simply drown, but you’ve got some fighting spirit in your veins. The lifeguard is in site but he sure is taking his time. And hello?! Questioning why he is taking his sweet time doesn’t help—he knows the water is deep and you have no option but to cling to the hope that help is about to show up.

We are all faced with moves/changes in our lifetime. It’s not fun, it’s not easy, and it doesn’t happen instantaneously because a magical elf shows up and does all the work. Today I don’t have much more to tell you than this.

Hold on. Persevere. Launch out into the deep. And don’t be afraid to follow the sand bar…but don’t be surprised if you’re thrown a little off course and need some extra help reaching your destination.

The day on the beach was worth the hassle and ended with many laughs and sand in places we never intended. Trust me. It takes a lot more than a few rough seas to throw us completely off course.

Now excuse me while I get back to packing. There’s an adventure out there and I don’t want to miss it!