7:00 am
Alarm goes off. Snooze.

7:09 am
Alarm goes off again. Snooze.

7:11 am
Quiet fussing noises begin coming from Evie’s room. Get up, go to nursery. Evie makes a few happy little squeals and kicks when she sees me. Feeling like a good mommy! Diaper change (mental note: only 4 cloth diapers left). Say good morning to Dada.

7:30 am
Nurse.

7:45 am
Cereal for me. Oatmeal and prunes for Evie. Roxy hasn’t budged from her crate.

8:00 am
Say bye-bye to Dada. I should be at my desk… but I’m not. Gather pillows, a blanket, and a few toys to occupy Evie on the bathroom floor while I shower. Shower, periodically singing “Arky-Arky” or “I’ve Got the Joy Joy Joy Joy” or playing peek-a-boo around the shower curtain to keep Evie from fussing.

8:20 am
Plop Evie in the middle of our bed with some pillows and toys. Thank the Lord she still doesn’t crawl and fall off the bed (not sure what I’ll do when she gets more seriously mobile!). Get dressed while singing “The Wa-Wa Song” or “I Am Persuaded” to keep Evie from fussing. The sound of the hair dryer magically mesmerizes her. Peek-a-boo around the bed to entertain her. Those smiles and giggles are worth so much in my book; too bad it’s not actual money…

8:45 am
Carry Evie downstairs to my office and test out the Exer-saucer® to see if she is in the mood. Nope. Those new top teeth are too painful. Hmm. Feeling like a bad mommy.

9:00 am
Trying to check my email and get work done with Evie on my lap.

9:05 am
Trying to find my wireless mouse under the desk where Evie threw it when I wasn’t looking.

9:10 am
Bouncing Evie on my lap while she chews on a calculator.

9:15 am
Testing the Exer-saucer again while blasting Phil Collins’ Strangers Like Me from the Disney movie Tarzan (Evie’s favorite song). Success! Woo! She is distracted. Back to work.

9:45 am
Fussy. Getting close to nap time. Distract her with Strangers Like Me again.

10:00 am
Fussy = nap time! Diaper change (mental note: only 3 cloth diapers left). Put Evie in crib, turn on the GlowWorm® and hand her the frog-pacifier to chew on. She screams bloody murder. Grab the diaper pail and close the nursery door feeling like the worst mommy in the world.

10:05 am
Silence. Quick check on the video monitor confirms she is asleep with her arms and legs splayed out in all directions. Cute! Start feeling like a good mommy again. Start diaper wash cycle with cold rinse. Back to work.

10:15 am
Advance diapers to hot soak with detergent. Back to work. Still no sign of Roxy.

10:30 am
Conference call with clients. Roxy wakes up, comes to the office door, and starts barking in the background. Evie stirs in her crib. I excuse myself from the call, let Roxy into the office to look around, and then let her back upstairs when she realizes I am not talking to a person. Evie settles back to sleep. Phew. Back to the call.

10:50 am
Back to work.

11:15 am
Whoops! Forgot the diapers. Advance to hot/cold regular wash. Roxy comes down to look for me. Take Roxy out. Back to work.

11:25 am
Evie wakes up and plays in her crib.

11:35 am
Evie decides she is ready to be up and calls out a few times to let me know. I rescue her from the crib, diaper change (2 diapers left), dress her in “daytime” clothes, and bring her back downstairs to the office. Exer-saucer? No. I arrange a blanket on the floor with some toys. She seems content to chew on a stacking cup and bang on her piano, so back to work!

12:00 pm
Client calls with an “emergency” that has to be dealt with “right now.” Evie seems content (what a good baby!), so I deal with the emergency.

12:30 pm
Evie fusses; she is hungry. Tie Evie on my lap with the sleeves of a sweatshirt so I have both hands to type an email. Hand her five different toys, which promptly end up on the floor. More fussing and banging. Pull out an old keyboard and place it in front of her. “Type” on it. She gets excited and starts “typing” too. Back to my email. Send. Done! Head upstairs for lunch. Remember diapers. Go back down to laundry room and advance to extra cold rinse.

12:40 pm
Nurse.

1:00 pm
Prep lunch and feed Evie. Salad for me; banana puffs and Chicken Mango Risotto puree for Evie. Feed dog.

1:45 pm
Play time! Sit with Evie to play with one of her pianos, blocks, or other toys. Roxy starts barking and running around like a psycho; she wants to play. Throw toys with Roxy while keeping an eye on Evie, who is intent on standing beside her music table rather than sitting in the nice little chair. Evie fusses. Time for pain relief gel on the gums (clove oil). Dance party! Strangers Like Me x 5. You’ve Got a Friend In Me (from Toy Story) x 3. Feeling like a good mommy!

2:30 pm
Fussy… Diaper change (only 1 left)! Back down to the laundry room; extra spin on the diapers. Back upstairs. Exercise time! Evie’s favorite part of the afternoon… we do “up-downs” (start with Evie lying on her back with her back and head on a pillow, she grabs my fingers and sits up, then stands up, ending with praise and a hug. Squee! Then sit and lie back down on the pillow. Repeat to what seems like infinity. She has SO much energy!) Practice “walking” by holding my fingers. Lots of praise.

3:00 pm
Back down to the laundry room; move dipes to dryer. Back upstairs. Starting to get fussy; almost nap time again (I’m getting tired too… “play” is exhausting). Read books until she won’t sit anymore.

3:30 pm
Nap time. She looks betrayed when I put her in the crib and hand her the frog. And then she cries sad, pathetic, tired wailing. Watch on the video monitor, feeling like a bad mommy. Clean up from lunch.

3:40 pm
Silence. She is sound asleep with the frog on her forehead. Back to work.

4:00 pm
UPS delivery; Roxy barks like the crazy little thing she is. Evie wakes up and cries hysterically. I calm the dog and wait out Evie’s cries. Back to work.

4:15 pm
Silence. Check the video monitor from my desk; she’s still awake in the crib, playing with the frog and kicking her legs.

4:20 pm
Sleeping again, finally.

5:00 pm
Awake and lets me know it with a few yells. I check on the video monitor and watch her throw the frog around by his leg. Ha… So adorable! Head upstairs… rescue, diaper change (All out! Mental note: get dipes from the dryer).

5:15 pm
Send last emails with Evie on my lap and finalize design files to be uploaded. Look at “to do” list and feel like I’ve accomplished nothing (as usual). Wonder where the day went. Get diapers from dryer and head upstairs with the babe on my hip.

5:30 pm
Nurse.

5:50 pm
Put Evie in Ergo Carrier on my back and start dinner.

6:15 pm
Fussy! Clove oil on the gums. Into the high chair. Banana puffs to the rescue!

6:30 pm
Garage door! Roxy barks, Evie is startled and cries. Joel’s home!

6:45 pm
Diaper change, then Joel feeds Evie her dinner (butternut squash apple puree and more puffs).

7:00 pm
Dinner time! Evie plays while we eat.

7:30 pm
Dada play time! Put diapers away, send emails, etc.

8:15 pm
Fussy… so sleepy! Joel gets Evie ready for bed. Nighttime diaper!

8:30 pm
Nurse. Joel does dishes, loads dishwasher, empties trash, checks email, uploads sermon audio, etc.

9:00 pm
Joel and I sing two verses of Jesus Loves Me to Evie, then put her to sleep. No crying.

9:05 pm
Couch time! Watch an episode or two on Netflix on the Wii. Talk about the day.

10:00 pm
Joel goes to bed. I pick up around the house, then head back down to the office.

11:30 pm
Look at clock. Bleh.

12:00 am
Look at clock. Why is time going so quickly?!

1:00 am
Okay, it’s time to be finished. Sigh. Bed time.

1:30 am
Zzzz…

I didn’t make any real “resolutions” for 2011, since I’m fairly certain that I was mostly just focused on surviving the second half of my pregnancy and the first 8 months of Evie’s life. It was an adventure, even without any specific resolutions.

Now that we’re in 2012, I feel that it’s time for me to get back to goals. I’ve accomplished a lot of what I had hoped for in my life, but not everything. In my high school yearbook (10 years ago…), I’m pretty sure I said I wanted to have a book published by now. While that hasn’t happened, I do think that’s mostly because I’m not a writer by profession like I thought I would be. That said, I still have it as a goal for “someday.” My “someday” list is getting long, but I’m okay with it. I may be turning 30 this year, but I am not, by any stretch of the imagination, done with “the best years of my life.”

So, here are my goals for 2012:

• Launch our new business website
  We first announced it last year, and then got caught up in the baby stuff. We’re plugging away in our “spare” time to get it done. I’m excited to get it launched!
• Take a business class
  I’ve been running a business for over 5 years now; I think it’s time to see what I can do better.
• Teach Evie to say or sign the names of all immediate family members
  Hearing my nephew say my name is such a blessing to me! I want to hear Evie say Momma, Daddy, Grandma, Grandpa, Devon, Seth, Kirsten, Mom-Mom, Poppy, Kelley, Matt, Lincoln, and Nina (Caryn) by next Christmas… Doable? She’ll be 20 months old, so I hope so!
• Go snowboarding with Joel at least once
  Joel and I got each other snowboarding gear for Christmas in 2010, but I was pregnant last winter, so we couldn’t go. Now, I’m very unmotivated to relearn… But I love Joel, and I want to have stuff to do together, so snowboarding it is!
• Finish a writing project
  I have so many half-finished projects… and only a few finished ones. This is the year to have a project come to conclusion. I had been working pretty steadily on a novel in 2010, but then my compy crashed, I lost 2 hours of work, and I lost motivation to rewrite. Time to get back into it!
• Bike the 35- or 60-mile Bike:MS Cook Forest River Ride in September
  I’m giving myself both options for the River Ride, since I’ll have to see how bike riding goes with Evie. If she likes the bike trailer, I’ll aim for the 60-miler. If she hates it, I’ll be lucky to get to do the 35.
• Raise $5,000 toward our adoption fund
  As for the adoption fund, I know it’s ambitious to try to raise $5k, but it’s only a little over $450/month (since January is almost over and I haven’t raised anything yet). That’s going to be the hardest one, I think. It is going to take some creative thinking and the support of those around us, but I think we can do it. I feel called to adopt, so I know that it will happen if it’s the Lord’s will.

So, we’ll see how this goes…

My sister, Caryn, is a missionary in Papua New Guinea. This is what she calls, “My Wicked Cool Prescription Refill Story.”

—————————————-

As you know, I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis about five years ago. When I came to PNG, I brought a one-year supply of my medication with me, intending to bring another year’s worth when I came back to the US this summer for a short visit. After I realized that I wouldn’t have the money for a trip home, I knew that I would have to find another way to get the meds. So, for the past three months, I’ve been attempting to find a way to get a one-year supply of my MS meds into Papua New Guinea. What a nightmare!!! Since the medication comes in pre-filled syringes that have to be refrigerated, I knew it would be complicated, but I had NO IDEA of the various details involved with transporting this much medication internationally.

First, I tried contacting my insurance company to find out about shipping directly to Ukarumpa, the missionary community where I live. No one there seemed to understand the special circumstances. You can’t just FedEx a box to the jungle and expect it to arrive in two days! Ukarumpa is REMOTE. There is ONE (count it, ONE) unpaved road about 12 meters at its widest point that connects Ukarumpa to a town of any substantial size. In some areas that road is completely washed out by the rain (as in the pavement is just GONE). Sometimes that road is blocked by armed men (with bows and arrows) who won’t let any vehicles pass. Sometimes a tractor trailer jack-knifes on the road, and it’s closed for two or three days while the truck is pulled out. Just forget about the box arriving by ground transportation. And, in any case, boxes shipped to Ukarumpa via FedEx or DHL or UPS would have to go through customs in the capital, Port Moresby, which is NOT connected to Ukarumpa by any roads at all. That means that our aviation department would have to find the package in Port Moresby (imagine a scavenger hunt in which half of the items do not actually exist) and fly the box up to me in Ukarumpa.

So, I asked the aviation department if they could handle this “scavenger hunt” and if they would be able to bring the box of meds to me in Ukarumpa should they be able to actually locate the box at all. They asked what material would be used to keep the box cold in case it was made from hazardous materials. My thought was, “They’re regular ice packs. . . that keep stuff cold. . . for a long time. . . ” But, I emailed the specialty pharmacy that would be filling the prescription to ask about any hazardous materials inside the cold packs. Their reply was something like, “Yes, ma’am, we just use regular ice packs made out of gel.” Apparently, they didn’t have any idea what chemicals were used inside their cold packs either. Without a firm answer, I was forced to put this option on hold.

For a few weeks, I completely gave up the idea of shipping the medication to PNG, let alone Ukarumpa. I didn’t have the money to go back to the US, but I looked for a cheap flight home anyway. I figured that I could just bring the medication back with me the same way that I had carried the medication to PNG last August. But, the cheapest flight I could find would total somewhere around $3000 round trip. After a few weeks of internal struggle, I decided there were better ways to spend my money. (ie. the money people had given in support of my missions work in PNG.)

Then I thought about having the medication shipped to a Wycliffe contact in Australia. I couldn’t afford a flight back to the US, but maybe I could swing a flight down to Australia to pick up the medication. I started looking at flights again, and I emailed some Wycliffe contacts to gather more information. . . until someone mentioned the import tax on that volume of medication into Australia. After a little research, I found out that the import tax would be approximately 10%, or $2000 to $2500 dollars. Plus my co-pay, plus my flight to get to Australia, etc. And so, yet another one of my bright ideas fizzled into nothingness.

While I was pursuing all of these other options, I decided to ask the clinic here in Ukarumpa about getting the medication through an Australian pharmacy. I imagined that they could just bring my prescription up to Ukarumpa with vaccines and medication for other patients. I found out that the clinic staff regularly orders specialty medication through Cairns, Australia, and they could practically guarantee the “cold chain” of my medication. I was thrilled and figured this route would be the easiest until I researched the financial side of things. Just on a whim, I asked my US insurance company about co-pays if I filled the prescription in Australia. I found out that it would be about a $2000 co-pay for a one-year supply. In the world of missionary-frugality (I live on less than $900 a month), that is ASTRONOMICALLY different from the $300 I paid to have a similar prescription filled before I left for PNG. Also, I would have to find a US “benefactor” who would lend me the $20,000-$25,000 to pay for the medication out-of-pocket while I waited for reimbursement from the insurance company.

So much for that brilliant plan.

Meanwhile, the my insurance company and the specialty pharmacy that would fill the prescription were sending me emails saying things like, “Once the medication leaves our office, it is your responsibility if it is lost or ruined on the way. . . ” and “If it gets held up at customs, is confiscated, or becomes lost, you would be responsible.” My favorite one said, “If not refrigerated properly, the medication may not be useful and, again, this would fall on your shoulders.”

Good grief.

So, all of my fantastic schemes had worked out as follows:

• The medication couldn’t be shipped directly to Ukarumpa because of the terrible track record for delivery that FedEx has in PNG and the fact that the cold packs would be completely warm in the 10-14 days it would take for the package to arrive.
• The medication couldn’t be shipped to Port Moresby and brought up to Ukarumpa on one of our missionary flights because I couldn’t figure out what material (hazardous or innocuous) was used in the cold packs.
• I couldn’t afford the $3000 to fly back to the US to pick up the medication myself.
• I couldn’t afford to have the medication shipped to Australia for me to pick up because of the $2000-$2500 import tax.
• I couldn’t afford to have the clinic here in Ukarumpa fill the prescription in Australia because of the $2000 co-pay AND the fact that I would need to find a person to lend me $20,000.

At this point it was the beginning of June. I had been dealing with this stupid prescription refill for about two and a half months, and I was nearly in tears most days because I didn’t know what else to do. I needed the medication by September, and I was no closer to getting it than I had been when I started the process back at the end of March.

One morning I was at school reading YET ANOTHER email stating that one of my big plans wouldn’t work. I gave up. I decided that it wasn’t worth the hassle. I figured that I would just go without the medication for a year. Of course my US neurologist would have a genetically-modified COW if I went off my medication, but what else could I do?!? I even thought gleefully, “If I have to be med-evaced because I have an MS episode and go numb from the waist down, I’ll get to go to Australia, a land of drive-throughs, convenience stores, and shopping malls!!!”

In between classes that same morning, another English teacher at school saw that I was really struggling. She pulled me aside and told me to “spill it.” After listening quietly, she hugged me, and then she prayed for me.

After she walked away, I prayed. It’s not that I hadn’t been praying along the way. I had been praying, “Lord, please help my plans to work out to get this medication here.” But, this time I prayed, “Lord, I can’t do it. You have to work it out because I’m all out of plans.” Complete surrender can make a person feel entirely helpless and even weak. But I also felt free. I didn’t have to DO anything else because I’d already tried EVERYTHING I could think of to DO.

So I waited.

I graded projects. I wrote final exams. I created PowerPoint presentations for Awards Night at school. I emailed my two sisters, told them what was happening, and asked them to pray. I did everything except come up with another way to get my meds into PNG.

A week later my sister Laure responded with a possible idea. Two years ago, she and I had gone on a short missions trip to Haiti with a guy who “just happened” to know another guy who was coming to PNG on a short trip and who “just happened” to be a pharmacist. I emailed the “guy who just happened to be a pharmacist” (G) only to discover that he was actually the Director of Pharmacy Services at [redacted: a prominent] Hospital and would be working with Wycliffe for a few weeks on a construction project about 6 hours away from Ukarumpa. After hearing my request, G immediately agreed to hand-carry my medication into the country.

At first I was a bit nervous about asking G to carry a large quantity of medication prescribed to another person (me) through customs, but my other sister K agreed to make some calls for me. She started by contacting the embassies for Australia, New Zealand, and PNG to find out about customs and import tax requirements.

Here’s how things stand as of today:

At the end of last week, K found out that all G will need to get my medication through customs is a letter from my prescribing physician. Amazingly, I won’t have to pay a single dollar in import tax either!

This afternoon my refill was processed in record time by the specialty pharmacy in the US, so G will have the meds just before his flight to PNG on July 6th! I was also able to share how the Lord worked everything out with the pharmacy representative who I’ve been emailing for the few months.

The one-year prescription refill will only cost me a $300 co-pay, just like it did last August.

Another Wycliffe family will be driving the six hours from G’s work location in PNG to Ukarumpa at the end of July, and they “just happen” to be traveling with a cooler that can be used to keep the medication cold during the drive.

WOOHOO!! Praise the Lord for having His own plans! He works out everything for HIS glory!

I guess I ought to give up on my plans and big ideas a little sooner next time. It might save me from a few sleepless nights and weeks of stress-filled days!

This whole prescription refill mess is Isaiah 55:8-9 in a way that I’ve never experienced it before.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD.
“As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.”
Isaiah 55:8-9
—————————————-

We’re in this boat again of not knowing how the Lord is going to work. But we’re trying to trust. Caryn’s account at Wycliffe Associates is in the red, and her monthly giving isn’t bringing her account into the black. She has no money for food or supplies for her final 6 months… Can you help? Do you know someone who can?

You can donate online here »

When we were in India in 2008, Dr. Sam Thomas told us stories about how he brought some of the kids into the orphanage. One story has stuck with me for all these years.

Dr. Thomas was on a train, and, as it began to cross a trestle, he noticed a woman with several children standing near the door. As their train car approached the middle of the bridge, the woman thrust open the door and frantically, tearfully began to throw her children off the train. In horror, Dr. Thomas rushed toward them, shouting. “No,” he cried, “you don’t have to do that!” He could see desperation in the woman’s eyes. There was one small boy left, and Dr. Thomas put his hands on the child. “I can help you!” he pleaded. The woman did not look back as she let go of her son and jumped from the train.

The truth is that in India this kind of practice is not as uncommon as you would hope. Often, if a family becomes too poor to take care of their children, they will simply find a way to kill them, rather than watch them suffer a long, painful death to starvation. It is a horrifying and gut-wrenching thing to realize the things that desperation can do to troubled people.

In our country, it is rare to see such acts be perpetrated, but, in fact, it is happening every day around us. Women who are scared, overwhelmed, and feel unprepared to care for a child head to their local Planned Parenthood or other crisis pregnancy center where they are, more often than not, counseled and encouraged to abort. It’s not a visible train trestle, for certain. But the child is just as dead.

It is a great tragedy that so few Christians make any effort to step in.

I imagine that if anyone, Christians or not, witnessed a mother tossing her children off a bridge, he or she would definitely make every effort to stop it, to save the children, to help the mother. However, when it comes to the abortion situation, we find ourselves on the sidelines.

I am personally opposed to throwing babies off a train, we say. But I don’t feel that it is really ‘my thing’ to make a desperate woman raise children she doesn’t want.

It disgusts me that someone would toss a child from a train, we say. But why would she listen to me anyway? Her mind is already made up.

Of course, I am pro-life, we say. But I am just not ‘into’ protests and things like that.

Where is your heart?

I don’t like confrontation, we say. What if someone yells at me or spits in my face?

Where are your guts?

This is your wake-up call.
This is your call to action.

Get off your couch, away from your office, out of your house. For one day, take a stand.

Decide for yourself who you want to be, how you want your children to see you. Are you going to be silent and hopeful, praying that someone else will do the job we are all called to do? Or will you stand up, horrified, and cry out against the tragedy before us, “you don’t have to do that!”

“He will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for
one of the least of these, you did not do for me.’” (Matthew 25:45 NIV)

Come to the March for Life!

January 23, 2012 in Washington, DC
Join us »

Today, I had to go to my baby niece’s funeral, and I find that I am filled with such sorrow and frustration that, mixed together, feel strongly like anger. I don’t want to be angry that the Lord, in His omniscience and unending love, chose to take Mercy home to be with Him rather than give her the life we expected with us. But at this moment, I am struggling to find anything that makes this day less awful.

I have the verses in front of me that should prove that this day can be one of joy, but instead I find myself dwelling on the hopeless feeling that is hanging over me like a fog … which is actually kind of ironic, since today was an absolutely gorgeous fall day with sun streaming across a cloudless sky.

How is this “supposed” to go? Am I allowed to cry—to show openly and publicly that I am struggling? As with the other deaths I have experienced, I find myself wondering what is appropriate or expected of me emotionally rather than being able to relax and simply feel however I want to feel.

How is someone supposed to react when a baby dies unexpectedly and seemingly for no medical reason at 26 weeks into the pregnancy?

Stillborn.

There. I said it. The horrible word is out there.

It’s not fair.

I know that life isn’t fair, and that’s actually a good thing since we all deserve much worse than what we get. I know that. That knowledge doesn’t make it easier in this moment today to deal with the effects of this broken, fallen world.

It was a tiny white casket, barely larger than a shoebox, on a red pedestal beside a small plaque marked “SHARE No. 98.” No names were on the stone; just a number. It’s not personal, but it’s something. It’s a place to go with flowers and stuffed animals and tears if it comes to that.

It’s not fair.

I try so hard not to dwell on the physical when it comes to death. I am usually okay until I see the box. The box bothers me somehow, makes everything more tangible and real. Instead of being able to keep focusing my mind on things spiritual and heavenly, like my beloved Grandma Rose (Mom-mom) rocking little Mercy in her arms amidst golden walls and puffy clouds, the box brings to mind things like dirt and darkness and bones.

I don’t have a grand conclusion for this one.

I have my baby girl, but my sister doesn’t have hers. It’s not fair.

Mercy Rose
September 17, 2011
You may not have ever taken a breath or opened up your eyes, little one, but I love you just the same.
Aunt Laure misses you, little girl!

For Project:Fracture’s 3rd Annual Falloween Party, Joel and I decided to go as Bonnie & Clyde with our “big bag of money.” Enjoy!

For reference, in case you were curious…

2010 – The Queen of Hearts & Hannibal from the A-Team

2009 – Rosie the Riveter & MacGyver

Last weekend, our families made the long trek to Pittsburgh to spend time with us as we prepared for Evangeline’s baptism. My parents arrived in the early afternoon on Saturday to help with some of the last-minute clean-up around the house since we were having a cookout and campfire to celebrate that evening. Joel’s parents and Kelley, Matt, and Lincoln arrived in the later afternoon, and Seth and Kirsten joined us later that evening.

While I neglected to take any photos of the actual event (silly me—apparently, I was busy with other things…), I did take a few photos of the cupcakes I made and decorated for the party. I think they turned out pretty cute for an amateur baker!

On Sunday at the 11:15 am service, Evie was baptized by our pastor and friend, Kevin Labby. She “talked” through a lot of the beginning parts, which you’ll see in the video below. This was my favorite “in action” shot of Evie from during the baptism ceremony.

So cute! Ha!

Joel put together a slideshow of photos for the service, which every infant that is baptized in our church gets. I think he did a beautiful job! The song is Masterpiece by Sandi Patty, a favorite of mine from when I was a little girl. I remember my mom singing it to me and my sisters along with our cassette tape.

Evangeline’s Baptism (2011 10 23) from Laure Kline on Vimeo.

Here are the lyrics (courtesy of ap0s7le.com):

Before you had a name or opened up your eyes
Or anyone could recognize your face.
You were being formed so delicate in size
Secluded in God’s safe and hidden place.

And I’m so proud of you
What else is there to say?
Just be the masterpiece He created you to be.

Source

My cousins and sisters and our families have been going camping every year for 7 years now… We started out with tent camping at a different PA state park each year until 2007, when we rented rustic cabins at Shawnee State Park. It was awesome, and we haven’t gone back to tents since! We went to Shawnee from 2007 until 2010, and will probably go back there next year. Because of some delay in decision-making, we ended up in yurts (walled tents) at Ohiopyle this year with Kelley, Matt, Linc, Erinn, and Gary from October 7-10.

The mornings were chilly—about 45°—so I bundled Evie into the big winter coat that Kelley bought for her. Too bad it was a little big! Oh, well… She’ll definitely fit into it this winter, when she’ll really need it!

Evie and I were having a jolly time hanging out by the campfire…

And then this happened.
(“I used to be the cutest, and then you came along,” thinks Linc. “I’ll just squeeze you a little around the neck to show you who is the boss.”)

But she survived it!

For one dinner, Gary made lasagna and garlic toast.
Yes, lasagna heated with campfire coals… and it was delicious!

We hiked around a bit to check out Cucumber Falls, and Matt carried Linc in their fancy new backpack contraption.
Linc LOVED being able to see everything from his bird’s eye view!

Ohiopyle Falls

Evie was a bit bored by the whole thing (*yawn*) and took a nice long nap, thanks to the white noise of the rushing water!

On Monday, we headed over to Fallingwater, Frank Lloyd Wright’s famous house design.

Oh, yes, I was rocking the pigtails.

Joel doesn’t appear in many of these photos because he was the camera man… and if/when i get around to making & posting the video of this excursion, I won’t appear often because I was the video camera woman! So, we’re even. Or something.

What a weekend! I’m already looking forward to Cuz Camping 2012, when (Lord willing) Caryn, Heather, Tim, & baby Tyler will join us!

Death is inevitable.

We can pretend that it is not there, go on from day to day in a happy-go-lucky faux ignorance, but it will come for each of us one day. There is no sense in denying it. We all will die.

We experience the death and decay of our world each day in so many tangible ways. The car needs a new transmission. The freezer doesn’t make ice anymore. The flowers in the garden bloom once and then wither. A spider that makes it into the living room gets squished. Everything is headed for an end.

Tomorrow is my 29th birthday, and I’ll be spending the first part of it at a funeral for a mom and her two little girls who were killed in a flash flood in the city on Friday. I mentioned that it was my birthday in passing to someone, who expressed their sense of sadness that my birthday is somehow ruined or tainted. I suppose I could see it that way, but wouldn’t that be the most selfish way to view the day? “My birthday is ruined because they had the audacity to die on the wrong date”? Like any other day, tomorrow is a day that celebrates life, memorializes loss, and reminds us our fated end.

One day, people will gather at my funeral. One day, people will gather at your funeral.

It may seem a little morbid to think this way, but if my adult life has taught me anything, it is that life does not always follow the path you think it will. Death is always at the door, and you never know when it is your turn to answer.

In the crime novel and subsequent movie, The Postman Always Rings Twice, a postman never appears, is mentioned, or is alluded to, making some people speculate about the seemingly unrelated title. The plot is a muddled mixture of lust, murder, lies, betrayal, and judgment. Most critics have come to acknowledge what the author later confirmed—that the “postman” is God, and his delivery is death. We can work for our whole lives to escape from death, but we’ll all hear the doorbell ring eventually.

I feel like this blog has become a bit focused on dark themes of late. First with my annual references and remembrances of my college roommate Kada in 2004, who was killed in a car accident, then with the anniversary of my friend Megan’s suicide. A whole other discussion of death I even avoided completely, as another friend experienced the awful loss of her tiny preborn daughter. And now this.

The good thing, if there can be anything good in times like these, is that we are not without hope as we wait for our turn at the door.

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about those who are asleep, that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope…. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will always be with the Lord.
1 Thessalonians 4:13, 17

We are not uninformed. Though the thought of opening that door and crossing that threshold may hold some terror because it is something new, we do not need to live in fear or dread of that day.

When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: “Death is swallowed up in victory.” “O death, where is your victory? O death, where is your sting?” But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.
1 Corinthians 15:54-55 ESV

As Christians, we must keep our focus off the dreadfulness of death and remember that we are not stepping into an unknown darkness filled with empty nothingness. We have a great and glorious hope before us. We can, without any depression or gloominess, look forward to death. Our fated “end” is the doorway to our destined hope!

…[I]t is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death. For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. If I am to live in the flesh, that means fruitful labor for me. Yet which I shall choose I cannot tell. I am hard pressed between the two. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.
Philippians 1:20-23 ESV

These are the truths that get me through the days in which the weight of death feels so heavy on me that I feel I could be crushed. I look at my baby daughter and know that at any moment she could be wrenched from my arms by death. I think about Joel and know that his commute to or from work could be his demise. I think of my sister Caryn in faraway Papua New Guinea and know that there could be native spears, mudslides, or earthquakes that are meant for her.

And it’s ok.

We are not uninformed.
We are not without hope.
We are not alone.

Just as God swore to give the Promised Land to the Israelites, he has promised us our future with him.

Then Moses summoned Joshua and said to him in the sight of all Israel, “Be strong and courageous, for you shall go with this people into the land that the LORD has sworn to their fathers to give them, and you shall put them in possession of it. It is the LORD who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” Deuteronomy 31:7-8 ESV (emphasis mine)

The postman always rings twice, and we can, in the midst of our grieving, be glad He does.

Thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Kim, Mikaela, and Brenna Griffith
Resting in the arms of our loving and faithful Father

It’s been one year since my friend Megan committed suicide. What a strange and awful anniversary to have to recall mid-morning on a beautiful Saturday in July. But it was mid-morning on a Saturday—though last year it was a rainy one—when I got the text message telling me that she was gone.

“Gone” is quite the euphemism, isn’t it? Yes, she is “gone” from our sight and this world, but it is so much more than “gone.” She didn’t just “leave,” as if on permanent summer vacation, and she didn’t patiently wait out a lengthy illness, trusting in God’s timing.

I guess I am still angry.

I try not to be angry at her; you can’t blame someone for their mental illness any more than I would blame my mother for her multiple sclerosis. I do believe, however, that it is not only not wrong for me to feel frustrated, but that it is right for me to be frustrated that she chose to stop fighting what I believe is a spiritual battle. Depression itself can be hormonal, chemical, physical, situational, and spiritual. The decision to get help when you need it, I believe is a highly spiritual battle. A sufferer may not be able to simply “pray away the sadness,” but he or she can and must pray for the strength to get help, despite the desperation and darkness. In any given situation, “help” might consist of medication, counseling, being admitted to a hospital, or just being willing to admit to a friend that the day is dark and that help is needed. Why didn’t she call someone?

As I’ve said before, I am no stranger to death, depression, and suicide. One of my aunts once attempted suicide when I was a kid, and I’m fairly certain that someone else close to me nearly succeeded in an attempt just a few months ago. I understand from my own personal struggle that it is very difficult to be honest about depression, especially if you have been struggling for a long time. There is a large amount of guilt and shame for not being able to “fight it off.” You can go for weeks, months, or years without feeling the icy fingers of depression closing around your throat, and then suddenly—BAM—there it is again, creeping up like a cancer returning after a time of remission.

So, what is my point?

This is just a reminder to be proactive. Though it is certainly not your responsibility to keep your depressed friends and family members alive, pray for them always. Check in with them. Make sure that they know that you love them exactly as they are. Remind them that there are good days. And if you are the one struggling, remember that, even when your mind is telling you that no one will miss you or maybe even notice if you are gone, there is One who loves you and wants your life to be amazing. If for nothing else, stick around to see what He has in mind.

Megan, I’ll probably always be angry at you, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. And I’m sorry I wasn’t proactive.