Looking at life

10.8.2013
They say prayer covers a multitude of sins. Oh how I hope so - especially in the area of parenting.  My second oldest, Chandler, turned eighteen last month. Eighteen. How is this possible? I have been pretty quiet (well, I have had lots to say, but haven't) on this milestone in our family.  I understand more of Mary where scripture says she "pondered these things in her heart".  I feel that is what I have been doing. Pondering.  Storing up memories of the second time my heart split wide open with the birth of a son.

As a new mom, a scripture I prayed often over my boys was Luke 2:52.  That God would help my sons grow as His son did: in wisdom, stature, and in favor with God and man.  I have had the absolute gift of watching two of my sons grow into adulthood.  I've watched as they both have publicly declared they believe Jesus to be the Son of God, be baptized as believers, and  walk in a new life with Him.  God has honored my prayers and let me see Him do it.

Side note: I know this is all the Lord's doing, because I am NOT that great of a parent.  I'm selfish.  I get cranky when I don't have enough sleep.  I have hurt each of my children with my sarcastic tongue or my angry words.  I have been silent when I should have encouraged.  I have missed opportunities to speak Truth into their lives.  And you know what?  Every parent has done these things.  None of us do everything perfectly, especially when it comes to our children.  Yet God, who made us from dust, doesn't rely on me to be perfect.  Whew!  And I am pretty sure none of my mistakes take Him by surprise.  Yet He hears the fervent prayers of this mom and answers them on behalf of her children.

I look at my eighteen year old.  Really look at him.  I see a kindness in his eyes when he speaks of special needs kids at his school.  I listen to him and hear him talk about spiritual truths that he knows because he has been reading scripture.  I watch him as he processes the ever-changing world around him with passion towards the injustices he sees towards the poor and weak.  I am seeing Luke 2:52 fulfilled in his life.  And I am undone by it all.

One smart thing I asked God for one day when my oldest boys were 4 and 2 was this: "Lord, slow me down.  Stop me and write these images of my sons on my heart.  Don't slow them down - because I love their zeal for life and all things that surround them at this age.  But slow me down."  He did.  Quite literally at times I would be rushing to take them somewhere and I would find myself stopping in my tracks.  I remember watching Chandler run as a toddler, with that Teletubby back pack that went from his neck to his knees almost.  Running with his fists clenched, smile on his face, singing Veggie Tales at the top of his lungs... and I couldn't say anything past the lump in my throat, other than a whispered "thank you" to God for letting me slow down and notice the beauty of it all.

God gave me another moment this past weekend while on college visits to Nashville with Chandler.  It was just the two of us, rare these days.  Chandler brought his music for us to listen to and on it was the Prince of Egypt soundtrack.  The song "Seeing life through heaven's eyes" - him singing it with his man-voice bellowing out the truth... I am taken back to him sitting in my lap, watching the movie with him.  He's a toddler and singing every word of every song.  I am trying not to let him see the tears because how do I explain? Roaring through my head, I hear: "The Mighty One has done great things for me - Holy is His name.  His mercy extends to those who fear Him, from generation to generation..."
     It's the song of another mother, from years ago, and it makes sense to me - God is.  He just is.  He is everything.  He knows my name.  I am reminded it is not about me, but about Him.  So this knot in my chest over "releasing my son into the world" unwraps itself from my heart.  I remember Chandler is not mine to release in the first place.  Once again, God makes me slow down and enjoy this time with my son.  And He is gracious enough to write these things on my heart.

As Chandler prepares to leave home for college, I find myself humming this song from Prince of Egypt that he loves, and praying it sinks in:

A single thread in a tapestry  though its color brightly shines
Can never see its purpose in the pattern of the grand design
And the stone that sits on the very top of the mountain's mighty face
Does it think it's more important than the stones that form the base?
 
So how can you see what your life is worth
Or where your value lies?
You can never see through the eyes of man
You must look at your life through heaven's eyes
 

So how do you measure the worth of a man
In wealth or strength or size?
In how much he gained or how much he gave? The answer will come to him who tries
To look at his life through heaven's eyes
 

No life can escape being blown about
By the winds of change and chance
And though you never know all the steps
You must learn to join the dance
 
 So how do you judge what a man is worth
By what he builds or buys?
You can never see with your eyes on earth Look at your life through heaven's eyes

Back to School Tradition at the Guzmans

I can hardly believe tomorrow is the first day of school for three of my four boys.  This summer has flown by too quickly.  I came across these pictures the other day and it seems like just yesterday this was our reality:

Instead, my reality was moving my oldest into campus housing for his second year of college today.  I am still in denial and call his going to college as "soccer camp" since he plays soccer for Division I school and they pretty much own him! :) Which is GREAT every other day of the year except the day I have to leave him and drive home. 

Thankfully, I came home to two kids who are still young enough to love back to school shopping and were ready to go.  Yes, we waited til the night before school started.  No, I was not the only one.  Tons of people at Wal-Mart alongside of me.  So we come home and I have them sit at the table with me and do my favorite thing of all in "back to school" season:  their prayer hands.

So this is what we do. At the beginning of each school year, I trace the boys' hands on a sheet of paper.  Some years I did it on my prayer journal...but now their hands are too big to fit.  I have them write five prayer requests they have for themselves for the school year and write them on each finger.  Then I use these to place my hand over as I pray over each one and their requests.  I love it.  I love having them write down their requests to God.  I love how it changes how I pray for them.  I have gone back this evening and looked over Dalton and Chandler's sweet hand prints over the years and I am just amazed at their spiritual growth.  I won't share Chandler's recent requests, since he is a Senior and all... but I am so humbled to be able to pray for him this year.  For the desires of his heart...not necessarily what I thought would be best.

So for all my friends who are starting this "Back to School" thing with your little ones, I encourage you to do this.  Praying over and for my boys has been one of God's greatest gifts to me as a mom.  He lets me see how He loves them and molds them and somehow uses the feeble, yet fervent prayers of a mother to reveal His will for them.  I'm undone by it all, really. 

And Dalton, I didn't get your hand print this year, but I did walk through your apartment praying and singing the song I have been singing over you since you were in my womb: "The Lord bless you and keep you.  The Lord make His face shine upon you, and give you peace."  Leaving you at "soccer camp" never gets easier for me, but I love how you carry yourself in confidence of who you are and Who you belong to.

Know my prayers for you tonight! -Mel

Can I tell you why? The Birthday Project continues...

This month has been quite the adventure.  I am almost to 20 out of 42 on my "good deeds" or "pay it forward moments" for my 42nd birthday.  Here are a few things I have learned:
  
1.  Some people will not take a free gift.  I have watched strangers pass up a free popcorn taped to the Redbox, quarters in a baggie taped to the vending machine, and offers of help from a friendly red head.  

2.  The people who I have been the most apprehensive about approaching with offers of help (they looked kinda grumpy) have ended up being the friendliest towards me.

3.  The hardest thing has been to offer grace to those that are closest to me.

I am sure those three points are just screaming for a sermon, because to me it all points to the gospel of grace, however I need to think on that for a bit before I write.

What I have gotten the most often though is the question "why".  Why am I doing this?  Why did I pick them?  My first response is, "why not?"   But then as I hear myself explaining how I saw this on a blog back in January and committed to myself I would do it in July, or how I am paying forward what someone has done for me, etc.  I know that those are not really the reasons.  

Here's the reason:  I am worn.  Worn out.  Overwhelmed with the cares of this world.  Cynical.  My prayers are stale.  My heart grows cold.  I lose my sense of wonder.  I don't think I am the only one.  
Nursing school has been one of the hardest things I have ever done.  Yes, I thought I knew how hard it would be, and how I would lose my life over to it...and I did all the time management tricks I could think of.  And we survived physically.  What I didn't expect or guard against was my own defenses against the things I saw on clinicals, the deaths, the suffering, the loss of daily function, and the weariness set in.  I was reminded of my son, Chandler, when he was in second grade.  He told his teacher he had "lost his joy".  She told him she happened to know a little bit about joy, and that she knew it was up to him to find it! ha!  Good lesson for a seven year old.  Good lesson for a 41 (almost 42) year old.  
So I get my dream job (still makes me smile), I graduate, I pass state boards that say I am now a registered nurse.  I should have my joy, right?  Nope.  I am telling you, I am worn.  But I do know I had to find it again.  How gracious was God to show me back in January the very thing He knew I would need in July?  

I Peter 4:10 says " Each one should use whatever gift he has received to serve others, faithfully administering God's grace in its various forms".  
So that is what I have been intentional about this month.  Showing God's grace in its various forms.  Some days that has taken the form of a word of encouragement, a note of thanks, a helping hand.  Other days it has taken the form of choosing to show grace to someone who has hurt my feelings, or holding my tongue.  

My encouragement to my worn friends is this:  Look for ways to serve.  It's something we all can do, regardless of race, religion, denomination, creed, sexual preference, culture, marital status.  Whether you have lost your joy or never had it to lose.  Don't trust me on this.  Trust the One who loves you enough to make us this way.

This song.  This song has been my prayer this month.  And God has been faithful.  He has let me see a song can rise from the ashes of a broken life.  He has reminded me that He does make all things new.  Here's the lyrics. 

Worn (Tenth Avenue North)
 
I know I need To lift my eyes up
But I'm too weak, Life just won't let up
And I know that You can give me rest
So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that's dead inside can be reborn
Cause I'm worn

And my prayers are wearing thin
I'm worn. even before the day begins
I'm worn. I've lost my will to fight
I'm worn, so heaven come and fill my eyes

Let me see redemption win
Let me know the struggle ends
That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise
From the ashes of a broken life
And all that's dead inside can be reborn
Yes all that's dead inside will be reborn
Though I'm worn.


Know my prayers are for you tonight.  - Mel

My birthday project...42

I love that my birthday is in July.  It's not like it's December where there are a lot of holidays/celebrations to compete with.  However, inevitably I spent most of my Junior High and Senior High birthdays at various church camps.  They seemed to always be scheduled for mid-July.  This may be why I always associate birthdays with being surrounded by friends.  

So in keeping with the spirit of including as many of my friends as possible for my birthday, I want to let you in on my birthday wish list.

To celebrate my 42 trips around the sun, I have been working on a list of 42 ways to "pay it forward" or "good deeds" throughout the month of July.  I saw this idea back in February and absolutely loved it.  Here's where I am asking you to join me in my celebration...some time during this month, or specifically on July 15th, I am asking you to do a "random act of kindness" towards either a complete stranger or someone you know.  Here's the hard part for some of you: own it.  That's right, you need to let me know.  You can post it on my fb page, or send me a message...however you want to let me know.  Consider it your gift to me for my birthday.  Why?  Well, quite simply, it makes me smile.  It also inspires others.  And, quite frankly, it is just good to see "the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living" (Psalm 27:13)!  

I will keep posting my stuff too.  Personally my goal is 42 of these intentional acts of kindness by the end of the month.  I am only on day 3, but I can tell you this: it. is. fun.  I am learning alot about myself as well.  Here's a few ideas to get you started (but I know you people are way more creative than I am):

1. Serve food to families whose children are long-term hospitalization (I did Ronald McDonald House)

2.  Thank a security officer for standing at his post, day after day, to ensure my safety going back and forth to my car.

3.  Write my grandmother a hand-written thank you note - for teaching my mom about Jesus. Best.inheritance.ever.

4.  Buy a gas card and give it away.  Who doesn't need a break at the pump?

5.  Watch someone's child for free without them asking.

6.  Give that someone some $$ or a Starbucks card so they can treat themselves.

7.  Write someone who has lost a loved one more than three weeks ago.  Tell them I have not forgotten and know the first year is just hard.

8.  See that pregnant woman at Target? Waddling through the aisles?  Tap her on the shoulder and tell her that she may not believe you, but she is beautiful.

9.  Give a tray of goodies to a volunteer rescue squad with a note of thanks.  They search for people who are complete strangers to them, yet people we love.  I am having a hard time with this one...because there are no words in  my vocabulary to thank these people enough.

10.  Put away someone's grocery cart for them.

11.  Pay for the next person behind you in the drive thru.

12.  Give a compliment.

13.  Tell a single mom she is doing a good job.  It's hard being both mom and dad...and you always feel you somehow are never enough.  Encouragement goes a long way!

14.  Pay for the guy behind you at the vending machines.  Best 75 cents I have spent! ha

So now you get the idea... let's party!  

 

You want to do what? Where?

 This is to give info on where our Medical Mission team served a few weeks ago, along with other sites...and when I say "Ms Peggy's Clinic"...here's the background:

Clinica Esperanza: A place of hope

The clinic itself started in a rather unexpected way. Peggy Stranges, an American nurse had come to the gorgeous, tropical island of Roatan off the shores of Honduras to retire. However, once word caught on among the local community that a nurse was living right down the street, more and more people came to Nurse Peggy looking for help. In a place lacking modern health care, Peggy began to see a need for providing low-cost or no-cost health care services to the people of Roatan.

Clinica Esperanza started at Nurse Peggy’s kitchen table and over the years expanded from her home to an apartment beneath her house, then occupied four rooms at a nearby church, and finally ended up in its home today as a first-class freestanding hospital in the Sandy Bay area of Roatan. Peggy has dedicated her life to building and nurturing what some call “Hospital Ms. Peggy”, and together with Honduran physician Raymond Cherington, M.D. and Arizona-based physician Patrick Connell, M.D,. Ms. Peggy has achieved her dreams.
Today between 1200 and 1300 patients are seen a month at the clinic. The clinic provides a wide variety of services ranging from the walk-in clinic visits to pediatric and OBGYN care (women’s health center, pediatric inpatient hospital and birthing center). Adult and Pediatric Dental services are also available. However, their services are limited as they currently do not have an X-ray machine nor specialists in certain areas of medical expertise making it necessary to travel to the mainland of Honduras in order to receive this kind of care.

Photo of a patient being seen. Photo credit: Doctor Patrick Connell.

The business model of Clinica Esperenza is simple and affordable. The cost per clinic visit is only 70 lempiras or approximately $3.50. If a person is unable to pay for the visit than it is free. Unlike the public hospitals in Honduras where medicine is rarely available and the patient needs to send a family member or friend to the pharmacy to buy any needed medicine for during and after treatment, all medication at the clinic is free.

Per Doctor Connell, “One of the biggest challenges facing the clinic at this time is infant and child nutrition. Three children are known to have died of malnutrition on the Island in the last year. Probably more.

Clinica Esperanza’s “Promotora de Salud” program trains local women to monitor the nutritional status of children at risk and provide food, education, and medical attention to Roatan children who are malnourished, infested with parasites, and/or suffer from diarrheal illnesses.”
The clinic relies on the help of volunteers and a dedicated staff. Every year around 125 volunteers come to the clinic with a wide depth of expertise ranging from doctors, dentists and pharmacists to business and computer savvy volunteers who can donate their skills. Clinica Esperanza also accepts cash donations and in-kind donations of supplies and medicines.  To learn more about donating, click here.  If you are interested in learning more about the volunteer opportunities at the clinic, click here.
This is an original post to World Moms Blog by Nicole Melancon of Minnesota, USA.

What I learned about happily ever after

Richard's retirement party...they surprised him

January 17, 2013

My grandfather’s  relocation to his real home.

What I learned from their marriage.

“I don’t love him any more so or any less than I did your grandfather.  I just love him different.  He’s a good man.”  These are the words my grandmother said to me one day as we were sitting at her kitchen table.  Richard had just kissed her goodbye as he hustled out the door.  He was heading out with some groceries for a widow who lived around the corner.  Widows and orphans were his ministry.  I think I was nineteen or twenty.  I remember being intrigued by my grandmother and her husband’s relationship.  And amused at their banter, their friendship, and the life they built together. 

I was five when my grandfather died.  I was the “only child” (my sister hadn’t been born yet) of their only child…and to say I knew I was loved by them would be an understatement.  A lot of my earliest memories involve my grandparents.  The smell of Old Spice takes me right back there.  I didn’t know much of C.B. Smith other than the few memories I had of him taking me to the barber shop, sitting with him in his chair, and I used to be able to remember his laugh.  But from all accounts from those who loved him, he was a “larger than life” personality.  He was a successful owner/operator of  three car lots in Memphis back in the 50s and 60s ranging from Cadillacs to a “buy here, pay here” lot.  So after he died, I guess a few years later, my grandmother meets a postmaster from a tiny town called Munford, TN.  His name was Richard.  They married when I was in the second grade.

Richard was, as they would say now, “kinda a big deal” in Munford.  He was the postmaster, therefore he knew everyone.  Not exaggerating.  He also was very active at his church, a shriner, and a veteran.  Everyone knew Richard Lee.  I would visit them in Munford growing up.  He would take me with him on errands and I remember feeling like I was with a celebrity.  He has a street named after him in that town!   But I guess I never could wrap my young mind around my grandmother leaving the “city life” to go live in the country with this man.  So I would try to figure it out. 

Looking back I think about how closely I watched them interact.  I am so thankful I did, even though the reasons were probably immature. 

 Here is what I saw:  two people who loved each other.  Not a flashy, romantic love (although they did kiss and hug a lot) but a love with a servant’s heart.  Some of mine and my husband’s jokes/banters are straight from those two. 

I watched them go on so many trips together, and saw how they enjoyed travelling together.  I learned that it is important to be friends with your spouse.

   

I watched my grandmother’s eyes light up when others would tell her something Richard had helped them with, or how great he was.  I learned how important a husband’s reputation is to a wife. 

I watched Richard eat burnt toast and tell my grandmother he “liked it that way” and then wink at me and put lots of butter on it.  I learned that it is more important to not crush your spouse’s spirit rather than to be right sometimes.

I watched them bicker and fight, too.  I learned that it was ok to do this, as I saw them still kiss goodnight and heard them laughing later.

I watched Richard as my grandmother’s health deteriorated.  I learned that she was his world.

The last time I saw Richard, he didn’t really see me. 

It was two years after my grandmother had died.  He answered the door, surprised to see me, although I had just called him the day before to make plans to meet.  He looked at me, his eyes filled with tears and he said, “Oh hey there! I love you so much!” and hugged and kissed me.  Then as we stepped inside his house, he asked me what my name was.  My eyes went past him and rested behind him where my picture was still hanging on his wall.  Who am I?  Did I hear that right?  I mean, look around you… I am all over this place…pictures on the wall of me, pictures on the fridge of my family, not to mention the countless photo albums… This was screaming through my head.  But I feebly said, “it’s me, granddad.  Melissa. Dina’s granddaughter.”  He started to cry.  “Oh Melissa, I don’t know if you heard, but my wife, Dina, she died.  She died.”  He was weeping now.  I held onto him and said, “I know. I know. I miss her so much.”  Now we are both crying.  I realize my kids and husband are in the room watching all this.  This is not at all what we had expected.  I had no idea his memory had deteriorated this much since my grandmother's death.  

 Typical of this disease, the conversation quickly shifted and before I knew it we were talking about how much Munford had grown, what he ate for lunch and how he didn’t drive much anymore (whew).  We took him to my grandmother’s grave and he wandered around at the other graves nearby as well.  It really was a sweet visit, though completely overwhelming to me as I realized I had lost them both.  His mind was fleeting quickly and if I tried to bring him to a place where he would recognize me it would upset him and we would both be crying.  So I knew I couldn’t do that to him again.  We were leaving the next week for a year-long mission trip to Honduras.  I knew that by the time we returned his condition would most likely be even worse. 

I came back to his house when we came back from Honduras.  There was no one there, but all of the furniture was the same.  I went to the church Richard and my grandmother attended and served all those years.  I walked up the stairs to the church office.  As I went to introduce myself to the church secretary, she said, “I know who you are.  You are Dina and Richard Adkins’ granddaughter.”  Yes. Wow. It had been years since I had been to their church.  She told me Richard had finally been moved to an assisted living/nursing home as his Alzheimer’s dementia had finally forced the issue.  She told of how the community had been taking care of him and that his step-son (from a previous marriage to his and my grandmother’s marriage) had moved to Munford to help take care of him as well.  “He sure loved you,” she said and I thanked her through my tears.

My nursing professor once said she liked to think of Alzheimer’s patients or people with dementia as if they are in a world that is one step closer to heaven.  That their mind is being prepared for heaven, even though their body is stuck here.  I like that. 

I am thankful for God bringing me Richard.  He loved me and my sister like we were his own.  I also am grateful he and my grandmother had each other to love for twenty-five years.  I am glad she told me what she did that day at her kitchen table.  She was right.  Richard was a good man. 

I know that now they are together, more alive than ever.  C.S. Lewis says it best when he describes heaven in his Narnia series:

“And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures had only been the cover and the title page: now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story which no one on earth has read: which goes on forever: in which every chapter is better than the one before.”

So they live…happily ever after.

Every Good and Perfect Gift is from Above

I know you may think I can't count very well... I mean, I skipped several days/ numbers on my countdown to my birthday. Well, quite honestly, some of the gifts were just too personal. Mainly they were gifts most wouldn't even consider gifts. I thought about not even referencing them, but I think too often we assume the Christian life is always full of good things. It is, but not what the world would consider good. I didn't want to come across as having this "perfect month" or perfect days even in this journey. God whispers to me in HisWord, sometimes shouts out to me in His sunsets. But some days, I feel he takes my face in His hands, holds me still, and says "hang on pumpkin... this one is going to bring tears and pain. But I AM. and I am here." Some of my days were like that.

Two things kept running through my head during those days this past week:

"that You, O God are strong" Psalm 62:11
"that You are loving" Psalm 62:12

I kept humming this song as well:

We pray for blessings, we pray for peace
Comfort for family, protection while we sleep
We pray for healing, for prosperity
We pray for Your mighty hand to ease our suffering

All the while You hear each spoken need
Yet love is way too much to give us lesser things

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
What if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?

What if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?

We pray for wisdom, Your voice to hear
We cry in anger when we cannot feel You near
We doubt Your goodness, we doubt Your love
As if every promise from Your Word is not enough

And all the while You hear each desperate plea
And long that we'd have faith to believe

'Cause what if Your blessings come through raindrops
What if Your healing comes through tears?
And what if a thousand sleepless nights
Are what it takes to know You're near?

And what if trials of this life
Are Your mercies in disguise?

When friends betray us, when darkness seems to win
We know that pain reminds this heart
That this is not, this is not our home
It's not our home