mr. eames

Two of my very good friends sent me a surprise in the mail the other day. I got a strange email telling me to go to DO [my old office] to pick up a package. I should have known they'd do something crazy. These two girls...big hearted, mischevious and beloved friends...who I miss SO much. I spent hours a day [for years] next to these two creative minds...designing, dreaming, celebrating each other's successes, and even torturing ourselves over the projects we hated. We shared ideas and had crazy nights out dancing and acting like nuts. Instant friends and confidants from the moment we met...and that's hard to find in the competitive interior design world. We planned our weddings together. Did life together. And everything is different now. They both moved away, on to bigger dreams. And I left the design world for my dream...{thegoralife}...these 3 beautiful babies and my rock star husband :). I know we're all happy where we are. But I still miss those days. Such sweet memories. Such good friends. So I guess I shouldn't be so surprised by this unexpected and over the top delightful gift. 

They called it a "baby" gift. But I'm pretty sure it's more for ME than baby Rage...lol. Most people don't even know how amazing this gift is. I guess you sort of have to be into interior design or modern furniture and architecture to get it. And I'm POOR. Like dirt poor after Derek's dance with death. So fancy designer objects do not make their way into our house. So this really means a lot to this Momma. Thank you my lovelies. My jaw is still on the ground.

Hello Eames Elephant. I love you :)

even the box is amazing

Rowan and Rage testing out Mr. Eames
{so cute}

I love the look on little Rage's face...
he knows he's really something up there

and the big kids had some fun too...
bubble wrap anyone?

I told him to act like an elephant...hee hee

{precious elephant riding babe}

Rig is 4

Our Rigby turned 4 this year. How is that possible? It's been a year of transition for this little man. Not too long ago he was the baby around here, and now he's a big brother. And I'm not joking about the BIG part. This kid is about 60lbs and only four years old...and not fat or chunky at all. He's just solid. I always joke that his bones must be heavy...seriously...we can't figure it out. At the beginning of my pregnancy with Rage I had to quit picking up both kids because I had placenta previa. By the time the baby was born, I couldn't pick Rigby up even if I wanted to. We used to call him Biggy when he was a baby...a nickname he may never lose.

Besides the fact that he's huge size wise, this kid also has a HUGE heart. He is always willing to compromise with his sister, usually getting the short end of the deal. If he has a handful of candy, he'll even give you the last couple. He's just that kind of guy. He tells his friends he loves them and always asks for an extra hug at night when I tuck him in. My guess is that he gets this from his Daddy...that guy is ALL heart too.

Rigby also says the most hilarious things. I love to hear him tell stories. No one can say it quite like Rig. He has the sweetest giggle and loves to be tickled and wrestle. He also acts like a weirdo whenever people come over or he meets someone new...like he'll hide behind a door and make animal sounds and throw things into the room where we are. ? I'm told Derek used to do this when he was little too. Another thing we can blame on him :)

He also loves to NOT wear clothes. This is sort of our biggest issue with him. He prefers underwear. JUST underwear. He refuses to wear clothes with buttons...pants, shorts, even shirts. The kid will not wear jeans. If bottoms must be worn, you better believe the waistband will be stretchy. It's like he wears old man clothes. I can't tell you how many times Derek has come home and said, "I want him wearing clothes." It's a daily battle. We...may...never...win.

He loves all things Ninja Turtle and camouflage. Dinosaurs are also on the top of his list...as you can see by the shirt he insisted wearing for his birthday party. It was HIS birthday, I couldn't force the kid to wear the preppy shirt Momma had picked out :)

Look at those brown eyes...dreamy and sweet

Opening his presents!

Cake, need I say more?

his very own ride

Daddy giving him some helpful advice...
holding the pedal down was a challenge for some reason!

kawabunga dude

I thought these were so cute!

We even made our very own ninja turtle lanterns.
Thank you pinterest!

we love rage

After baby Rage was born, I came home to a very cute and peculiar sign. It was hung on the wall above our television. 

It read..."we love rage". 

rage's room -- still under construction...
we've hung the sign in the window for now.

A few words we never thought we'd put together. But as the sign reads, we do LOVE Rage. He's the sweetest little man and ironically dons the name that the dictionary describes as intense anger. I always smirk a little inside when someone asks me his name... because I know in a few seconds that person will inevitably crinkle their forehead and ask me to tell them again. They obviously couldn't have heard me right...[ha]. 

My baby is growing fast, a little too fast for this momma. I haven't been keeping up posting his stats very well... so this post will be all encompassing :) 

ONE WEEK OLD

height: 21" 56%ile | weight: 7lbs 14oz 56%ile

ONE MONTH OLD

height: 22"  | weight: 8lbs 15oz 

enjoying his stay at the Hyatt
while Daddy is under the knife

hmmmm...I wonder if anyone's noticed
how dashing I am in this tie?

i've got my eye on you...

2 MONTHS OLD 

height: 22.5" 26%ile | weight: 13lbs 67%ile

chunky monkey

white sox man

3 MONTHS OLD

I'm not sad...I promise.
I'm just well fed and oober relaxed.

being stylish in clothes from auntie jenny

And here's some brotherly love...can you say melt my heart? 
And please don't mind the piles of laundry in the background...this is REAL life baby :)

practicing his kickboxing

brother love 
♥

with all our might

We've really been enjoying our new house. And by "new", I mean new to US. According to the deed, it was built in 1889. That was a loooong time ago. It's obviously been renovated a time or two, not a whole lot of the original character remains. But that's ok with us. We have a vision for this place. It's going to be a slow "go" getting there, but we have nothing but time, right?

I was thinking about that yesterday as I was painting the baby's room. Yes, Rage's room is still not done...[sigh]. I was thinking about years past, about the other families and little people that called this old farmhouse home. How many times have these walls been made fresh with new paint? Did the mom have to keep stopping to hold a baby or help find a wooden train piece or yell at the top of her lungs for her kids to quit fighting...all the while standing on a toddler play chair to reach the high spots? Oh, if these walls could talk, right? Maybe this Momma would learn a thing or two from the stories that once lived here.

all 3 babes...playing in the crib
as momma paints chevrons galore

I don't know if it was the praise music that got my heart deep thinking or maybe I was high on fumes, but I was really having a moment up there in that room. Until that point I had been feeling the weight [like i always do in some way] of getting things done. Needing to get that room painted so I could move on to my next slew of projects. You know, like painting the kitchen, updating some lamps, making a few beaded chandeliers for friends...[and the list goes on]. Not to mention just the normal chaos of dishes and laundry and starving kids and the never ending trickle of toys that make their way down the stairs. There are just so many things to get done and keep up with around here. Sometimes I get lost in the getting it done...or the desire to have it all picture perfect and put away.

As my brush stroked those walls, the words etched on my rubber bracelet echoed in my mind, the one our Pastor gave me while my husband was on life support... 

"Resolved, to live with all my might, while I do live."  Jonathon Edwards 1722 

to live with all my might... What does that really mean for me, for my life HERE in this house full of messes. Does it mean working away the moments so the picture perfect painting of our life, our home, is complete...and to what end? I don't think I want to spend all of my might on meaningless tasks for nothing more than appearances. Not that taking care of my home and my life doesn't need to be done [don't worry babe, I'm not giving up on house cleaning]. And at that...done to the glory of God. It DOES...there's no question about that. I'm thinking more about my heart and mind and my motives as I do these things. Like what really matters here...and why do I feel the need to get it all done. If I scream and yell and am irritated to the core as I rush to paint this life of mine...that is not to the glory of God. And it's not getting it done, not really, not at all. 

while I do live... One thing that occurred to me yesterday as I slung the paint on the walls is that these colors, really only last for a time. A very short time. Literally and figuratively. Someone else will live in this house one day. Someone else will repaint these walls for their child or play room or some grand design endeavor of their own. These chevrons that I'm tirelessly painting and perfecting...they'll be painted over. Hmmm. This is just a house. These are just walls. Perspective. 

"As for man, his days are like grass, he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place is remembered no more." Psalm 103:15-16

And not to be morbid, but ME and mine...we will be long gone at some point. And everyone we know will pass too, eventually. New people will take our spots...new lives will be having their time in this world...living those days ordained...times written and seen before they came to be. It's like my mind zoomed out for a few minutes to His vantage point and looked at the shortness of our time. I've read that we see things linear...on a timeline of minutes and days and years. But God sees the whole picture, our beginning, our end...all beginnings and all ends. What a perspective that is. To see life as He does. To keep my eyes on Him as I live this day. For those few minutes, I wasn't drowning in my tasks...but finding contentment in the time I've been given to paint these walls...this canvas of my life. 

I think when I see life thru the world's view, I grasp for time, for things, for a perfect picture, and I hold them so close. I cling tight and I drown in them. But when I step back and remember that we are grass...I am grass...made of dust...made with a purpose...my heart shifts. Let's go. And I don't have to get it all done. I never will. There will always be more dishes to do, more projects to get done. But this one single day...with all it's tasks...I can live fully, with all my might. 

So for a few days, until I get lost in the mess again, I walk at a different pace, with a full heart...and I paint.

a photo from earlier this year...after Derek got out of the hospital the first time
living the simple. driving dad's truck thru our woods. 

tire swings.
a MUST do today.

To live fully. With all our might. Great idea, Jonathon Edwards.  

transfer

I was reading this morning and came across Psalm 143:8 -- "Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul."

I was thinking how I want this verse to mean as much to me NOW as it did four months ago. I still want us to depend on Him and seek His direction each and every day. I don't want to just wake up and throw on my shoes and go at this day like it's mine alone. I want to start it with Him in mind, seeing what He has in store. After all, God's not just walking beside us when life is tough. He's always there...[that's what I've learned]...orchestrating the day for our good and with real purpose. So that's my prayer for my family... that our eyes and our hearts and our plans would be open to what God has for us. He has purpose for us in each day... [even this one].

Over the last week or so my heart has been reliving those days before Derek's hospital transfer. A few posts ago [all things good] I mentioned a little bit about the weight of it all ... and ever since I can't seem to shake it.

Back in January I was faced with one of the biggest decisions I would ever have to make in this life. It sounds sort of over the top to use those words... but after sitting here and thinking about all this... that's actually a true statement. I've never had to make a decision that could ultimately lead to someone I love living or dying. But there I was, making decisions and having conversations on behalf of my husband who could no longer speak or act on his own... How do you transfer a man to a whole other hospital and team when he's basically dying right in front of you? There were so many doctors working to keep him alive at that point...running tests, asking questions, maintaining the machines that were sustaining him. It was like every second counted. How could I risk packing him up and sending him off? That felt like starting over. The thought of transferring him seemed too big, too dangerous and wasn't something I thought necessary. He seemed "safe" where he was. I needed safe.

I think when I was there in that moment, trying to walk thru those minutes, all I could do was process what was right in front of me. Doctors...nurses...all of the tubes and machines...watching his body struggle and the numbers go up and down. The first few times people mentioned transferring Derek, I just wasn't ready to hear it. It was like there was a road block in my mind and I just could not go there. What was going on right before my eyes was hard enough to digest on it's own. And I trusted our doctors. I had heard from quite a few people how great one of his doctors was...and they were all so forthcoming and available to us. I never once questioned whether he was in good hands. I knew he was. I decided however, that no matter what I thought was best, I would give it some serious prayer and consideration...and start asking some hard questions. I knew that I was responsible for Derek, and I didn't want fear or anything else to stand in the way of what was best for him.

So I asked those questions. You know, the hard ones. I started cornering the doctors and asking about things that most people probably don't want to hear about. Like was Derek going to die in a few days or weeks if things kept progressing as they were. It was obvious he was on a downward slope at that point, and I needed real answers. I had to be prepared...I was pregnant...there were two little ones that needed me to keep it together. I couldn't have the rug pulled out from underneath me in a day or two if he did die. I had to know what the possibilities were, whether good or bad. 

The answers I was getting from the doctors were also not positive by any means. I kept hearing doctor upon doctor use the words "very very very sick"...and I'm not exaggerating. I heard it multiple times a day from different doctors...[very very very]. I think they were trying to prepare me for the worst. I feel like doctors typically are trying to keep people from overreacting; like they want to reassure you everything is going to be fine...not to worry...they've got it all under control. That's at least what I expected to hear.  But no one was uttering those words. I was starting to see the writing on the wall and it just wasn't looking good. 

***

So I prayed. That very night I sat in the waiting room and asked Derek's parents and his sister to pray with me. We sat in a circle, held hands, and prayed to the Creator of the world. Pouring our hearts out to Him...together, unrehearsed, and raw. We had never done that before. [not like that]. We specifically asked for God's leading and working if Derek should be transferred. I needed to see His hand in it if I was going to take that step. I left that night confident we were staying put. No transfer.

And there it was the next morning...God's fingerprints...literally all over everything. One of Derek's doctors approached me first thing and before I knew it, we were discussing transferring him. It was like God used that doctor to get me moving; he told me exactly what I needed to hear...in just the right way AND wrapped it in faith...letting me know he was praying for Derek. There are too many details to share, really. Let's just say I had doctors and friends and pastors, all showing up at just the right time to walk me step by step thru the impossible. And as the doctor went to make a few phone calls to see if any beds were even available in Chicago to transfer him to, I had a group of people praying in the waiting room. I still wasn't sure how to flip the switch and say yes...I didn't want to make a wrong decision. I was so afraid I would choose the wrong one and he would die.

So I went to Derek's side and played the song that was on repeat in my heart...the one my heart broke to every morning in the shower...that I would pray and sing and bawl my eyes out to. "Whom Shall I Fear...(God of angel armies)" by Chris Tomlin. I probably sang that song to Derek a hundred times without him even knowing it. It gave me hope and strength. 

[see lyrics below...they still give me chills]. 

You hear me when I call

You are my morning song

Though darkness fills the night

It cannot hide the light

Whom shall I fear???

You crush the enemy
Underneath my feet
You are my sword and shield
Though troubles linger still

Whom shall I fear???

I know who goes before me

I know who stands behind

The God of angel armies

Is always by my side

The one who reigns forever

He is a friend of mine

The God of angel armies

Is always by my side 

And nothing formed against me shall stand

You hold the whole world in Your hands

I'm holding on to Your promises

You are faithful...You are faithful

I would whisper in Derek's ear while he was unconscious that the God of angel armies was there in that room with us...that the room was crowded with angels ready to go to war on his behalf. We had NOTHING to fear. We stood shoulder to shoulder with an invisible army and God himself. 

It was actually this song that gave me the answer I needed at that moment too. As I read those lyrics to Derek, I realized that this God who goes before me...who stands behind...He would be with us wherever we went. If we stayed. If we went. HE goes before, HE stands behind, and HE would be right there by our side. I couldn't make a decision that would not involve Him sustaining and seeing Derek thru. And there it was... my answer.  I could do this because God... the one who reigns forever... would go with us or stay with us. I couldn't send him anywhere his God would not be. ! Right then I prayed... so thankful for the certainty... and broken and humbled that I never saw this before.

And as soon as I lifted my head from praying... literally within a minute... the phone rang at the nurses station and the nurse said I had a phone call. It was the doctor calling to tell me there was a room available at Northwestern for Derek... He wanted to know if I wanted it. I could finally say YES.

***

One of the craziest parts of this story is that I wasn't asked to transfer Derek until I had the answer. I wasn't offered a bed five minutes before or two days before...I wasn't offered until the indecision and the fear was gone. Until God showed me that He was in every bit of it. I'm still amazed how that day played out. And I'm so thankful that God spared me the weight of that decision before I was ready. Talk about going before... :)

I've decided to share a few photos of the big event. Mainly because this moment for us was mind blowing... life changing... and believe it or not, God even threw in a dream come true. Derek always wanted to fly in a helicopter. I guess he got his wish [although unconscious... lol]. 

I made sure someone got some pics so we could prove it to him.

his fabulous flight crew 
packing him up like a giant burrito

almost ready to go...
just him and a room full of angels :)

his dad on the left...making sure his boy is ok

and there it is...PROOF
you're actually on that babe!

care bear stare

I love this picture... it perfectly captures Easter for us this year. 

It was an absolutely beautiful day, full of everything we needed it to be. First and foremost, we celebrated Jesus -- and to be honest -- I could totally stop there. That alone is enough to make it a perfect day. I woke up this morning singing "Give me Jesus" (by Jeremy Camp)... it's still ringing in my ears actually. Sort of fitting I guess now that I'm blogging about Easter. I love this song though. Because really...

"GIVE ME JESUS. You can have, ALL this world. Just give me Jesus." 

But as always, our God gives us more than we need or deserve. He gives us MORE. Because I guess he could have just stopped at Jesus too, right? But that's not his style. Above and beyond...HE sort of owns that phrase. Just like it says in Romans 8:32 "He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?" God is so good to us. It makes my heart scream sometimes. Like a care bear stare... remember those? My heart throwing all it has back to God. Screaming joy and praise and thanks that we get all THIS.

This day of amazing fellowship and food [as always at Janel's]...an easter egg hunt with lots of crazy kids...sunshine GALORE...some kite flying...mimosas [yummo]...and of course the big one -- the fact that we all made it there alive. Yep, totally a day full of everything we needed it to be. 

And THIS picture, oh another reason for my heart to scream. The sweetest little girl I know, plopped down on the ground, showing her Daddy how great she is at kite flying. 

Then of course, there's this little guy. He might not be very good at kite flying quite yet...but he has other important things to show his Daddy. Like the coolest hiding spots for eggs. Or Mr. Pirate Egg. All important things, right? :)

 

And baby Rage? He did what babies do best. Slept...like all day :)

We did manage to have a little excitement that day as well. Our besties stopped by in their hilarious ride just in time to save the day (farmer style, of course). See the pics below of the sad kite stuck in the tree and the obvious answer... There's seriously never a dull moment when you're a part of this clan :)

It feels good looking back at this day...and I give glory to God for every last bit of it. Not all days will be perfect. Today sure wasn't. I had an epic fail in a moment of frustration and snapped a little...or maybe a lot. But it's good to be able to look at the good and bad in light of each other. I feel like I need both to balance this life out and keep me looking up to Him. Some days it's all glory and honor screaming out of my heart...others it's a call for mercy and grace and maybe a request for a do-over or two.

So what is God teaching me today? I'm still putting the pieces together. But I think it has something to do with the song that I woke up singing.  

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wS4JQi4dgvg

  

Wherever you are, be all there

I finally got Rage's birth announcements in the mail. I decided that it was something I wanted to do since this is our last baby. I did announcements for all 3 kids...did it right for Row and mailed them, but I cheated emailed Rig's (poor middle child)! And now there's this little man... I'm afraid he's going to be spoiled. I think I'm starting to understand why people always make comments about the "baby" in the family. When it's your last one -- you HAVE to overdo things. Well, maybe you don't have to. But you better believe I'm going to give it a shot! I'm already over-achieving in the areas of snuggling and smooching on this little guy... so what's the harm in proudly mailing his mug all over the USA? 

My friend Liz stopped by when he was about 2 weeks old to take some pics for me [see below]. She really did an amazing job. Thank you my dear!!!

I have to say though, that knowing this is our last baby has definitely made an impression on me as a mom. I think that morsel, and in light of everything we've been through with Derek, I'm looking at my role of wife and mother a little differently now. Time is short, so very short. I want to do what I can to SLOW this time I've been given with these precious ones. To take the days and moments that are before me and really live and enjoy the whole of them. 

This got me thinking and reading...and I decided to re-read one of my favorite books "One Thousand Gifts" by Ann Voskamp. She talks about slowing time with the weight of full attention... living fully in the moment... (all her words) and doing it by just simply opening our eyes and being thankful for the seemingly small stuff we're blind to in the every day. It's life changing to see life like this -- thru a thankful heart. Pretty awesome.

One of my many starred paragraphs in her book...

"Being in a hurry. Getting to the next thing without fully entering the thing in front of me. I cannot think of a single advantage I've ever gained from being in a hurry. But a thousand broken and missed things, tens of thousands, lie in the wake of all the rushing... Through all that haste I thought I was making up time. It turns out I was throwing it away."

A thousand broken and missed things... I want those moments. I want ALL of them. I want to enjoy getting my kids ready in the morning for the day that's before us -- not by yelling at them to get dressed and brush their teeth or to hurry up and eat. Those words suck the joy out of the day and are sadly said more than I'd like to admit. So tomorrow I plan on being intentional with words spoken and time spent. I'm going to laugh and hug and pray with these little creations of God. We will not hurry. We may not make it anywhere "on time". But that's okay. I'm going to treasure my giggly slow pokes and embrace the imperfect with grace.

"Wherever you are, be all there"...

One of my most favorite quotes. Words of wisdom from Elisabeth Elliot.

all things for good

Before January of this year, I don't think Derek or I would have even batted an eye at commercials for people with diseases or medicines...or movies where people are laying in hospital beds plugged into machines with tubes all over. But now, we can't seem to escape them. There are times when we're watching tv where we'll both just stop...and look at each other and shake our heads. It's crazy what we were numb to before. Those commercials were still playing, people were still coughing up lungs on television shows...we just didn't see it or care. It's like we're looking at life thru these new eyes. It's so strange.

Like now when I hear stories of somebody being on a ventilator or in the icu or having open heart surgery... my heart does a small cartwheel. That meant nothing to me before all this. Now that I understand what it really means, what it actually involves, I truly feel for people who have been in these circumstances. Oh...you mean someone's lungs don't work and they can't breath on their own??? Someone's having open heart surgery... their chest cut open and their heart messed with??? Um, yes, those things are a big deal. Huge. But honestly I would have been stone faced hearing about either of those before all this. It's crazy what EXPERIENCE does in life. When you experience something for yourself, then and maybe only then, are you truly changed by it.

***

Back in January I was faced with one of the biggest decisions I would ever have to make in this life. It sounds sort of over the top to use those words... but after sitting here and thinking about all this... that's actually a true statement. I've never had to make a decision that could ultimately lead to someone I love living or dying. But there I was, making decisions and having conversations on behalf of my husband who could no longer speak or act on his own. That's why the word "ventilator" will forever mean something to me. When Derek first went into the ICU and was still breathing his own air [and struggling to] the doctor and nurses told us that our next step would be for him to be put on a ventilator. Neither of us truly understood what that meant. To us, I think it was just another means of helping him to get air. They explained he'd be heavily sedated until his breathing was stronger...he had to sign a paper...I had to leave the room while they put a tube in his throat. I thought the ventilator was something people went on for a few hours. I did not understand the severity of the situation. His lungs were shutting down, his organs also were. His body was dying. It's funny how clueless we both were at that moment. The situation still did not seem serious. A few hours later of course, I realized what was actually happening. I walked into the room and saw him lying there with tubes all over, unconscious, with his chest going up and down mechanically. I could no longer communicate with him. I was all of the sudden alone...and speaking for the both of us. It was a surreal moment.

***

Within a few days a couple people had mentioned the word "transfer" to me in regards to Derek... another word that actually means something to me now. How do you transfer a man to a whole other hospital and team when he's basically dying right in front of you? There were so many doctors working to keep him alive at that point...running tests, asking questions, maintaining the machines that were sustaining him. It was like every second counted. How could I risk packing him up and sending him off? That felt like starting over. The thought of transferring him seemed too big, too dangerous and wasn't something I thought necessary. He seemed "safe" where he was. I needed safe.

At that point Derek was not doing well though -- at all. It was horrifying to watch really. He was unconscious mostly, but he was also very hard to keep sedated properly. He kept sitting up and attempting to pull out the tubes and struggling to free himself from the very things that were keeping him alive. Again, horrifying. To have to talk him down and attempt to calm him...I can't even explain it. I felt helpless. I was scared of him at first to be honest...especially when he would struggle like that. I remember after one big episode I sort of retreated to the back of his room...and just sat there and cried. I was afraid to touch him, to go to him. It was like it wasn't even him. I was torn. I didn't know how to get thru to him...to be a comfort to him...to be strong for him. But in that moment, cowering in that chair, I felt a boldness well up within me -- I got up, grabbed my bible and went right up to him and started reading from the book of James. It was so hard to do. But somehow, I did it. With nurses watching and doctors coming in and out...to go up and stand next to my husband and read God's word out loud and stand strong for him. I felt eyes on me, I felt some judgement...but giving Derek something to grab onto in those desperate moments meant more than what people thought of me. And once I started speaking and praying over him, the situation didn't scare me anymore...he didn't scare me anymore...and everyone else just disappeared. I would play songs and sing to him or read to him from God's Word and in the middle of a freak out, he would quiet. As crazy as it sounds, God's Word literally held us together in those moments. It brought peace into a room of chaos. 

***

I came across John 13:7 while I was doing my devotions today...it's when Jesus is washing the disciples feet...and He says to them..."You do not realize now what I am doing, but later you will understand."

I can't tell you how many times I've breezed right by that verse. But today, it blew my mind. So much of what we go thru in this life - those struggles and hurts - it's like Jesus is saying just that...you may not understand what I am doing right now, but later, later you will. You just need to experience this in order to fully understand what I want to teach you. He can't just explain it all to us... well He could, but sometimes words alone fall on deaf ears. But to experience it for ourselves... that really brings meaning to something.

Like in THIS struggle... our faith has been stretched further than I thought possible. But the truth of it is that we've been so blessed thru the HARD. What if we could have found out somehow that Derek had the heart issues in January? Would we trade months of turmoil for a quick fix? If given the option, ohhhh yes...we would have taken it.  None of the hard, please. But we would have missed all the blessing my friends. I guess I'm starting to really understand Romans 8:28 and how God is working ALL things for our good. Even ventilators and hospital transfers and open heart surgery. [sigh]