Saturday, August 11, 2012
Cradled in Hands of Grace: HOBBIES, INTERESTS & MORE
Cradled in Hands of Grace: HOBBIES, INTERESTS & MORE: I love constant relationship with God. I am Mary with very little Martha in me. I especially love being with my family and sharing our lo...
Cradled in Hands of Grace: Specific Life Experiences
Cradled in Hands of Grace: Specific Life Experiences: Trying to remain single focused on a certain event or experience is often difficult for me. I am a scatter brained, middle aged wife and mo...
Friday, August 10, 2012
Cradled in Hands of Grace: ABOUT ME
Cradled in Hands of Grace: ABOUT ME: My name is Annette Monts Falls and I am working diligently to honor God's hands upon my life through the avenue of writing and with aspirati...
Thursday, August 9, 2012
This OLD DOG is New Trick Challenged ~
I am learning some things in an abstract way, but implementing things in a concrete way is a different story. One of the consequences of spinning on the Potter's wheel is the fact that my concentration skills are not as good as they were before God really began molding me after high school. I was quick. I was smart. I was energetic.
Thirty plus years of being stuck on God's wheel has made me very pliable. I may be old, but my soul has been very pliable in nature. This has not come easy. I would have preferred to be that clump of clay placed on the wheel that immediately became the vessel it was supposed to remain. However, God has had every intention of teaching me how to react to different lessons of adapting to a new mold. I think I broke every mold; maybe that is why I'm not finished yet into a final vessel.
He remolded me when I graduated high school and started college. Then with each following event, God kept changing my original form into a very different vessel.
Marriage ~ August 18, 1979
Relocation to Tulsa, Ok ~ July, 1980
Building a new home ~ early 1981
Pregnancy ~ I found out we were pregnant on New Year's Eve. Perfect pregnancy until May 21, 1981~ Firstborn son emergency delivery.
Premature labor ~ Loss of firstborn. Taylor Monts Falls, died May 22, 1981.
Move into new home date ~ May 22, 1981, Fred's mother & brother in route from SC to OK to help us move & to set up the nursery. Station wagon is loaded w a cradle, dozens of brightly wrapped gifts & cards :-(
Shattered dreams, first time as a patient in a hospital, recovery from major surgery, possession of new home, weeks to heal physically.
Father's Day, 1981 ~ days prior had arrived in SC to bury Taylor in my home church's cemetery.
Another pregnancy ~ conceived in July~
Premature labor ~ around 26 weeks early December, I knew what it was this time around; lots of precarious moments and several hospitalizations and medications endured.
Birth ~ March 7, 1982, Brandon Montgomery Falls enters the world. Four weeks early, respiratory distress, admitted to the same NICU his older brother had died in only nine and a half months prior.
Homecoming ~ April 1982, Brandon is allowed to come home with us in Tulsa.
Baptism ~ June 1982, St Thomas Lutheran Church, Chapin, SC the same place Taylor is laid to rest.
Job loss ~ late spring, Fred gets laid off and begins looking for new employment.
Relocation & new job ~ summer 1983, move to Boulder, Colorado.
Bliss ~ we loved Boulder & the Rocky Mountains; tests towards another pregnancy; nothing wrong found. Given green light. Clay is conceived. Love is growing and all is well.
Emergency ~ May 19, 1985 Clay quits moving inside me; I panic, we go to hospital, he starts to kick in parking lot, go in for exam, into emergency delivery. I was impending uterine rupture. We were close to losing both Mom & Clay had I not been worried for Clay. I was in terrible pain but hid it well. Great delivery. Fred at bedside during delivery. JOY!
CRISIS ~ after birth, Clay's lung ruptures. He is four weeks early yet weight is 6 pounds and 15 ounces. Clay hovers near death for hours as many specialists attempt to stabilize him. I am bed wheeled into a tiny room to see him possibly for the last time. On public display; visiting hours, flowers, joy, laughter, gifts, balloons pass by me. The bed does not fit into the room for privacy as I see Clay dying.
Hell ~ how do I describe hell? It was harsh and unrelenting. Clay on a respirator in Denver for four months, a respirator the first three months. Fred again becomes jobless just as Clay finally seems to turn the corner. Geologists severely suffer the oil industry decline. Clay is transferred back to Boulder step down unit. Fred flies out a few days later to OKC, OK for job interview. Clay can come home. I bring him home by myself so that we could celebrate regardless the interview outcome. Interview well. Fred returns home. Clay is very, very ill. Back to hospital. Seizures & more. Full sirens back to Denver to the PICU this time. We got ahead of the ambulance in downtown Denver traffic; NO ONE would get out of the ambulance's way!
I realize that I gave an overdose of medication to Clay after bringing him home by myself. It was supposed to be .5 cc of medicine. I gave him 5 cc of this medicine. How? Why? The decimal point was not close to the 5; it was very nondescript. I simply did not see it as a POINT 5 cc dosage.
In Denver, Clay's life is uncertain again. A doctor calls us on the phone in Boulder to tell us on a Sunday evening that he did an exam on Clay and that his findings were ~ blind & mentally challenged!
Hell ~ it continued, on and on and on. Some might say it still exists. I believed that for a long time; our lives were living hell. I don't feel that way anymore, but I was well justified by feeling trapped in total darkness with event after event after event. "Will this hell ever end, LORD? What is the purpose, Lord? I know there has to be a purpose. I wish I could understand it, but I don't. I am not angry with you LORD, but I just don't understand our life as is. I placed it in your hands; I promised I would abide by your will if Clay lived or died. I am so overwhelmed and upset, but I do not hold bitter anger because of the promise I made with you the day Clay died in front of me before surgery."
Hell ~ greater details of the darkest of days which were yet to come after I've had a long doggy rest.
Tonight I rest, a survivor. I am cradled in God's hands of GRACE.
<')))><
Thirty plus years of being stuck on God's wheel has made me very pliable. I may be old, but my soul has been very pliable in nature. This has not come easy. I would have preferred to be that clump of clay placed on the wheel that immediately became the vessel it was supposed to remain. However, God has had every intention of teaching me how to react to different lessons of adapting to a new mold. I think I broke every mold; maybe that is why I'm not finished yet into a final vessel.
He remolded me when I graduated high school and started college. Then with each following event, God kept changing my original form into a very different vessel.
Marriage ~ August 18, 1979
Relocation to Tulsa, Ok ~ July, 1980
Building a new home ~ early 1981
Pregnancy ~ I found out we were pregnant on New Year's Eve. Perfect pregnancy until May 21, 1981~ Firstborn son emergency delivery.
Premature labor ~ Loss of firstborn. Taylor Monts Falls, died May 22, 1981.
Move into new home date ~ May 22, 1981, Fred's mother & brother in route from SC to OK to help us move & to set up the nursery. Station wagon is loaded w a cradle, dozens of brightly wrapped gifts & cards :-(
Shattered dreams, first time as a patient in a hospital, recovery from major surgery, possession of new home, weeks to heal physically.
Father's Day, 1981 ~ days prior had arrived in SC to bury Taylor in my home church's cemetery.
Another pregnancy ~ conceived in July~
Premature labor ~ around 26 weeks early December, I knew what it was this time around; lots of precarious moments and several hospitalizations and medications endured.
Birth ~ March 7, 1982, Brandon Montgomery Falls enters the world. Four weeks early, respiratory distress, admitted to the same NICU his older brother had died in only nine and a half months prior.
Homecoming ~ April 1982, Brandon is allowed to come home with us in Tulsa.
Baptism ~ June 1982, St Thomas Lutheran Church, Chapin, SC the same place Taylor is laid to rest.
Job loss ~ late spring, Fred gets laid off and begins looking for new employment.
Relocation & new job ~ summer 1983, move to Boulder, Colorado.
Bliss ~ we loved Boulder & the Rocky Mountains; tests towards another pregnancy; nothing wrong found. Given green light. Clay is conceived. Love is growing and all is well.
Emergency ~ May 19, 1985 Clay quits moving inside me; I panic, we go to hospital, he starts to kick in parking lot, go in for exam, into emergency delivery. I was impending uterine rupture. We were close to losing both Mom & Clay had I not been worried for Clay. I was in terrible pain but hid it well. Great delivery. Fred at bedside during delivery. JOY!
CRISIS ~ after birth, Clay's lung ruptures. He is four weeks early yet weight is 6 pounds and 15 ounces. Clay hovers near death for hours as many specialists attempt to stabilize him. I am bed wheeled into a tiny room to see him possibly for the last time. On public display; visiting hours, flowers, joy, laughter, gifts, balloons pass by me. The bed does not fit into the room for privacy as I see Clay dying.
Hell ~ how do I describe hell? It was harsh and unrelenting. Clay on a respirator in Denver for four months, a respirator the first three months. Fred again becomes jobless just as Clay finally seems to turn the corner. Geologists severely suffer the oil industry decline. Clay is transferred back to Boulder step down unit. Fred flies out a few days later to OKC, OK for job interview. Clay can come home. I bring him home by myself so that we could celebrate regardless the interview outcome. Interview well. Fred returns home. Clay is very, very ill. Back to hospital. Seizures & more. Full sirens back to Denver to the PICU this time. We got ahead of the ambulance in downtown Denver traffic; NO ONE would get out of the ambulance's way!
I realize that I gave an overdose of medication to Clay after bringing him home by myself. It was supposed to be .5 cc of medicine. I gave him 5 cc of this medicine. How? Why? The decimal point was not close to the 5; it was very nondescript. I simply did not see it as a POINT 5 cc dosage.
In Denver, Clay's life is uncertain again. A doctor calls us on the phone in Boulder to tell us on a Sunday evening that he did an exam on Clay and that his findings were ~ blind & mentally challenged!
Hell ~ it continued, on and on and on. Some might say it still exists. I believed that for a long time; our lives were living hell. I don't feel that way anymore, but I was well justified by feeling trapped in total darkness with event after event after event. "Will this hell ever end, LORD? What is the purpose, Lord? I know there has to be a purpose. I wish I could understand it, but I don't. I am not angry with you LORD, but I just don't understand our life as is. I placed it in your hands; I promised I would abide by your will if Clay lived or died. I am so overwhelmed and upset, but I do not hold bitter anger because of the promise I made with you the day Clay died in front of me before surgery."
Hell ~ greater details of the darkest of days which were yet to come after I've had a long doggy rest.
Tonight I rest, a survivor. I am cradled in God's hands of GRACE.
<')))><
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
It's All About GOD
The enemy knows where I am vulnerable. To be completely honest here, I am very vulnerable. I cannot hide that from God. I see the pages and blogs of other Christian women in ministry, and I see how they are rapidly multiplying numbers of followers, multiplying likes and multiplying comment exchanges which leads me to feel less than because I'm not seeing the same growth. It's like that question I wrote about years ago on Clay's 21 birthday; Infertile Soil or Sterile Seeds? I have come to the conclusion, well, I am trying to accept the conclusion, that some seeds are slow to germinate and some soil is better than other soil. The important thing is that I keep sowing seeds. I cannot allow the enemy to rob my seeds or my desire to sow them; I must obey the voice in my heart that it matters. The voice is God's voice. HE is happy with my efforts. HE is happy I've tried diligently to nurture seeds I've scattered all over the place; some I don't even know where or who the wind might have carried them to. I went to an amazing event with more than 650 other women called into ministry. It was the first thing I have ever done for myself, by myself. I came away with my personal vessel spilling over in joy and encouragement. I have acted upon some of the lessons I learned from the experience, yet I'm not noticing any minuscule evidence of green beginning to grab attention to my naked eyes. Lord, where is the green? Have I simply not succeeded with my attempts to garden my soul the last 30 to 50 years? I've tried! Why can I not see green evidence? I want to see lush green results for my diligence; for my persistence to try to be a successful nurturer to bring kingdom glory. YOUR KINGDOM, LORD!
HE hears my plea. "Child, I KNOW the seeds you have tendered so carefully and lovingly. I know it seems futile at times. You need to remember all I ask you is to sow. I am growing them on my time frame. Remember the blink of my eyes can be as a hundred years to you. I am the one developing the root structure to the seeds you cannot yet see emerging. Without a good root structure, the most precious seeds I need you to sow will not survive. I've trusted you with extremely rare seeds. Trust me to bring the green pastures you want to see. Green pastures are where my sheep graze in safety under my care. It is a special place. You have weathered the harshest of different storms that I have trusted you with rare seeds of safe shelter. You are sheltering my precious sheep more than you realize. Don't doubt your significance. Remember KINGDOM SIGNIFICANCE. I AM proud of you. I know your heart and I know your efforts. You are a chosen child. Trust me. You are of great importance. Don't give up; keep sowing. Larger green pastures give safe shelter to a greater number of sheep under my care. You are growing my pastures."
I am awed and humbled at the same time. God has me cradled in the hands of HIS GRACE even when I forget the feeling of His Hands upon my vessel. Sometimes it seems He has removed them temporarily, but you can bet, HE knows how to speak to me as only a FATHER knows how to speak to his daughter with great love and devotion. I know I rest in His Hands of Grace. His Hands are warm and often delicate, gentle yet strong at the same time. He is the Master Potter of our personal vessels. I need to constantly remember it's not about me. It's not about you. It's not about Clay or the Falls Family. It ALL about GOD. Leave it in His very loving, very capable hands. Allow him to keep you cradled in grace. <')))><
HE hears my plea. "Child, I KNOW the seeds you have tendered so carefully and lovingly. I know it seems futile at times. You need to remember all I ask you is to sow. I am growing them on my time frame. Remember the blink of my eyes can be as a hundred years to you. I am the one developing the root structure to the seeds you cannot yet see emerging. Without a good root structure, the most precious seeds I need you to sow will not survive. I've trusted you with extremely rare seeds. Trust me to bring the green pastures you want to see. Green pastures are where my sheep graze in safety under my care. It is a special place. You have weathered the harshest of different storms that I have trusted you with rare seeds of safe shelter. You are sheltering my precious sheep more than you realize. Don't doubt your significance. Remember KINGDOM SIGNIFICANCE. I AM proud of you. I know your heart and I know your efforts. You are a chosen child. Trust me. You are of great importance. Don't give up; keep sowing. Larger green pastures give safe shelter to a greater number of sheep under my care. You are growing my pastures."
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
My Broken Vessel
My Broken Vessel
Our baby boy, so sweet
we were waiting to meet.
A brother eager to play,
with a new bundle named Clay.
When on a Sunday afternoon,
it suddenly seemed much too soon.
The baby quickly ripped away,
an emergency is what they say.
I cried to God, prayed to him with much fear,
please, Lord, this baby is so very dear.
Mother and child, both seemed in danger,
could we remember, the love found in the manger?
It all happened so fast,
yet the mold had long ago been cast.
Time to finish the knitting in my womb,
this new life assured from an empty tomb.
When your lung tore open wide,
they said that you could not survive.
Even before the physical touch of our love,
your breath, freed from confinement
was wrought with excruciating pain.
You were cradled by the wings of a dove,
took flight to be with angels above.
He carried you securely through tears
that fell like rain,
The will to live, to all of us, God above did give.
You are a child of God, molded by the Potter's hands. A miracle you are, our angel sent from up above, to teach us His unconditional love.
Your body still is broken and bent,
yet there is good reason that you were sent.
A shattered vessel perhaps to some,
yet you are the Potter's perfect one.
You have shown us all so much,
by always resisting Satan's clutch.
Even when the chips seem down,
your face never wears the hint of a frown.
You have waited so long, to God you MOST belong,
mount up your wings and fly, keep us all aiming high.
You have taught us how to trust,
even ashes to dust.
Let your light so brightly shine,
you are God's gift of mine.
You have already traveled a very long and dusty road,
and we have tried to feel the burden of your heavy load.
Yet always in that incredible smile we can see,
that life forever has been granted to you and to me.
Those trips when Heaven called you back, and held you,
oh so close,
it is Jesus you always managed to show us, that you
remember most.
So many times you would briefly leave to make a visit there,
it was Christ who kissed your head so soft,
so blonde and so fair.
In your brightly shining eyes, it is Jesus we can see;
so lovely and so pure.
These are the things, we are all so certain,
we can be wonderfully sure.
Jesus with the children, all looking upon His welcoming,
most radiant face,
Cradled you against His chest, warming you in splendid
and peaceful embrace.
He lives forever in your heart, in that most special place,
the glow of your spirit is our constant reminder of
His grace.
The love you give away to those who cross your path,
can help prevent the deep, dark fall into the
Devil's wrath.
It is you, our special angel sent from up above,
you are the reason we can feel so much of His love.
You have lived in God's most beautiful space,
it is written well all over your face;
the Devil in you simply can't find trace,
you are so strongly held in place,
within the loving arms of such amazing grace.
You are a child of God, molded by the Potter's hands. A miracle you are, our angel sent from up above, to teach us His unconditional love.
You have waited on our Lord,
with quiet dignity and endless faith,
In His arms you have shown to us,
we are all kept warm and safe.
As our future continues to unfold,
God will forever steady the mold,
A beautiful vessel made out of clay,
before we ever met you that first day.
He refines you more each and every way,
even in the ways that you have learned to play.
Our lives ahead look bright,
shining in God's pure light.
More miracles will truly come,
proof that we have a Holy home.
No more broken we will be,
we will all be perfect, in God's majesty.
Turn around all words of doubt,
non believers someday to Him, will shout!
Thank you for the love you have shown,
You have given us the greatest joy ever known!
We are all children of God, molded by the Potter's mighty hands. Keep sending angels from above, to teach us how to love. Show us how to care, teach us how to share, and help us all be vessels of your unconditional love.
Help us find in broken vessels,
more miracles sent from above,
Help us find in broken vessels,
the truth of Heaven and Eternal Love!
Clay Falls, you are a child of God, molded by the Potter's hands. You are a miracle of love, our very own angel mended and sent from up above. You have given us so very much: the capacity to give and to receive His unconditional love and such.
Written about my third special angel,
Clayton Alexander Falls, Sunday, May 19, 1985 in Boulder, Colorado
Taylor Monts Falls, Thursday, May 21, 1981 in Tulsa, Oklahoma; bore witness with a tiny footprint before blossoming wings to stay a true angel above
Brandon Montgomery Falls, Sunday, March 7, 1982 in Tulsa, Oklahoma; another angel who managed to stay earthbound, strong in faith and love
Written with much love, hugs, and more, I am proud to be your mom.
Annette Monts Falls
August 2, 2002
Our baby boy, so sweet
we were waiting to meet.
A brother eager to play,
with a new bundle named Clay.
When on a Sunday afternoon,
it suddenly seemed much too soon.
The baby quickly ripped away,
an emergency is what they say.
I cried to God, prayed to him with much fear,
please, Lord, this baby is so very dear.
Mother and child, both seemed in danger,
could we remember, the love found in the manger?
It all happened so fast,
yet the mold had long ago been cast.
Time to finish the knitting in my womb,
this new life assured from an empty tomb.
When your lung tore open wide,
they said that you could not survive.
Even before the physical touch of our love,
your breath, freed from confinement
was wrought with excruciating pain.
You were cradled by the wings of a dove,
took flight to be with angels above.
He carried you securely through tears
that fell like rain,
The will to live, to all of us, God above did give.
You are a child of God, molded by the Potter's hands. A miracle you are, our angel sent from up above, to teach us His unconditional love.
Your body still is broken and bent,
yet there is good reason that you were sent.
A shattered vessel perhaps to some,
yet you are the Potter's perfect one.
You have shown us all so much,
by always resisting Satan's clutch.
Even when the chips seem down,
your face never wears the hint of a frown.
You have waited so long, to God you MOST belong,
mount up your wings and fly, keep us all aiming high.
You have taught us how to trust,
even ashes to dust.
Let your light so brightly shine,
you are God's gift of mine.
You have already traveled a very long and dusty road,
and we have tried to feel the burden of your heavy load.
Yet always in that incredible smile we can see,
that life forever has been granted to you and to me.
Those trips when Heaven called you back, and held you,
oh so close,
it is Jesus you always managed to show us, that you
remember most.
So many times you would briefly leave to make a visit there,
it was Christ who kissed your head so soft,
so blonde and so fair.
In your brightly shining eyes, it is Jesus we can see;
so lovely and so pure.
These are the things, we are all so certain,
we can be wonderfully sure.
Jesus with the children, all looking upon His welcoming,
most radiant face,
Cradled you against His chest, warming you in splendid
and peaceful embrace.
He lives forever in your heart, in that most special place,
the glow of your spirit is our constant reminder of
His grace.
The love you give away to those who cross your path,
can help prevent the deep, dark fall into the
Devil's wrath.
It is you, our special angel sent from up above,
you are the reason we can feel so much of His love.
You have lived in God's most beautiful space,
it is written well all over your face;
the Devil in you simply can't find trace,
you are so strongly held in place,
within the loving arms of such amazing grace.
You are a child of God, molded by the Potter's hands. A miracle you are, our angel sent from up above, to teach us His unconditional love.
You have waited on our Lord,
with quiet dignity and endless faith,
In His arms you have shown to us,
we are all kept warm and safe.
As our future continues to unfold,
God will forever steady the mold,
A beautiful vessel made out of clay,
before we ever met you that first day.
He refines you more each and every way,
even in the ways that you have learned to play.
Our lives ahead look bright,
shining in God's pure light.
More miracles will truly come,
proof that we have a Holy home.
No more broken we will be,
we will all be perfect, in God's majesty.
Turn around all words of doubt,
non believers someday to Him, will shout!
Thank you for the love you have shown,
You have given us the greatest joy ever known!
We are all children of God, molded by the Potter's mighty hands. Keep sending angels from above, to teach us how to love. Show us how to care, teach us how to share, and help us all be vessels of your unconditional love.
Help us find in broken vessels,
more miracles sent from above,
Help us find in broken vessels,
the truth of Heaven and Eternal Love!
Clay Falls, you are a child of God, molded by the Potter's hands. You are a miracle of love, our very own angel mended and sent from up above. You have given us so very much: the capacity to give and to receive His unconditional love and such.
Written about my third special angel,
Clayton Alexander Falls, Sunday, May 19, 1985 in Boulder, Colorado
Taylor Monts Falls, Thursday, May 21, 1981 in Tulsa, Oklahoma; bore witness with a tiny footprint before blossoming wings to stay a true angel above
Brandon Montgomery Falls, Sunday, March 7, 1982 in Tulsa, Oklahoma; another angel who managed to stay earthbound, strong in faith and love
Written with much love, hugs, and more, I am proud to be your mom.
Annette Monts Falls
August 2, 2002
Saturday, August 4, 2012
Remembering
This morning I found myself looking through all the photos of Clay's time in Denver. I suppose it is easy to say put them aside because he made it through all those grueling months and grueling surgeries. Yet, I have not posted the most terrible pix from that time. I will not subject readers to that degree; however, they remain important because it shows what he endured as a newborn. It shows how he ended up with severe Cerebral Palsy. It is a miracle of God that he retained his mental capabilities and that it has been all physical challenges he lives with. That isn't to say that the physical challenges are easier than mental. They are just different. Clay cannot sit by himself, he cannot dress himself or feed himself, he cannot talk like we talk, he cannot toilet or bathe like we are fortunate to be able to do all by ourselves. Clay is on a feeding pump as a consequence to his medical crisis and near death three years ago. He is diapered; not because he does not have the intellect to toilet but because of the nature of his body, it isn't justifiable to put him or us through the additional physical strains of trying to lift him, undress him, maintain him on a toilet. To be out of the house would really be impossible, so he remains in diapers. We are so very fortunate and blessed that he has persevered to remain in our family. He has done so only through the purposes and by direction of God.
Sometimes I question why do I try to start a new blog? Who really cares? Truthfully it can be extremely discouraging to attempt to spill my heart, Clay's heart and see little, if any, difference it makes outside of us. There are days I wonder, why bother? Yet despite it all, God still whispers to me not to give up writing. He whispers, "Child, I did not give you this life story not to share it. It is the story I have written for your lives. Never assume it is not important."
And so, because I hear those whispers, I have to put words to my (our) life as a family. Maybe it doesn't matter much to outsiders, or maybe it does and I just don't 'see' it in stats and reports that can make one feel so inferior and intimidated by writing. Maybe I just need to let it go and let God. I need to simply trust His opinions, His purposes, and His Hands working behind scenes I cannot see. The reason I write is to bring God glory. I need to remind myself of that more often; more of HIM, less of me. Why should I care about tracking where the story goes and just release it more fully into a life continued to be Cradled by His Hands of Grace to use it as He decides. <')))><
Sometimes I question why do I try to start a new blog? Who really cares? Truthfully it can be extremely discouraging to attempt to spill my heart, Clay's heart and see little, if any, difference it makes outside of us. There are days I wonder, why bother? Yet despite it all, God still whispers to me not to give up writing. He whispers, "Child, I did not give you this life story not to share it. It is the story I have written for your lives. Never assume it is not important."
And so, because I hear those whispers, I have to put words to my (our) life as a family. Maybe it doesn't matter much to outsiders, or maybe it does and I just don't 'see' it in stats and reports that can make one feel so inferior and intimidated by writing. Maybe I just need to let it go and let God. I need to simply trust His opinions, His purposes, and His Hands working behind scenes I cannot see. The reason I write is to bring God glory. I need to remind myself of that more often; more of HIM, less of me. Why should I care about tracking where the story goes and just release it more fully into a life continued to be Cradled by His Hands of Grace to use it as He decides. <')))><
Thursday, August 2, 2012
Itsy Bitsy Spider & You Are My Sunshine
A photo has been going around facebook of a twin hugging his baby sister. They had been placed in separate open cribs before a nurse took a bold step and placed them together. When she placed the little girl by her twin, he immediately wrapped his arm around her and she began to improve, simply from being comforted by the arm that surrounded her in their mother's cramped womb. It makes me think of time in NICU with Clay month, after month, after month. Brandon used to sing Isty Bitsy Spider and You Are My Sunshine to my growing belly before Clay was born. We asked him to sing to his baby brother one of the first times we took him to Denver to meet Clay. When he started singing, Clay's oxygen levels started climbing. Clay's little finger had an oxygen monitor on it making his finger look like an ET finger; it continually monitored how well his body was producing and using oxygen. Brandon was entranced by the glowing red finger and then he would begin singing. Clay's oxygen levels would start to rise, point by point. This happened so many times that often the nurses would ask us if Brandon was in the hospital because if they were unable to get a better oxygen saturation, they wanted Brandon to sing those two miraculous little songs so full of life, joy and love for Clay to hear. Brandon was always happy to sing and NICU did not intimidate him; all of Brandon's newborn pictures looked a lot like the NICU Clay was in. Brandon probably thought all babies came into the world wired and under lights. It gave him no fear. At three years old, he would come into NICU and gregariously steal every one's hearts, including Clay's heart and lungs.
I say heart and lungs because I feel that Brandon played just as big a part in Clay's fight to survive as the rest of us did. Clay's heart could remember the sound of Brandon's voice and then Clay's lungs would function better with desire to heal. Many times the docs would stand around and watch as low nineties became mid to upper nineties. It was magical. It was also soothing and healing to us, realizing the special bond that was already strongly stitched between the two. It could not go unnoticed.
My post tonight isn't grand or well prepared because I've not felt well, but I sort of know how Clay felt when Brandon would sing encouraging words to him as Clay fought to hang on. Last night, today and many times in the past, it has been the sound of Clay's joy, of Brandon's gregarious personality, the sound of them picking on each other, that has given me the fight to feel better and to lift my spirits. Invisible disabilities such as Fibromyalgia, Trigeminal Neuralgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome can seem very debilitating at times. There are many women who battle through life in physical pain that never fully abates. If you look at us, you can't see the pain our bodies continually have to endure; we look amazingly well. We have become very good at wearing the masks of everything is great; of putting on the smile; of getting dressed and made up to look 'normal' on the outside. That is okay because we know who our sisters are. We hold each other up when one feels like throwing in a towel. We lift each other in prayers that tomorrow will be a much better day. We adapt the best way we know how. We've learned to cling to Jesus. So just as Brandon comforted Clay by singing songs, Clay now comforts me when he is feeling healthy and he is singing songs with angels we cannot see or hear. Clay sees them and Clay certainly hears them. How? It's a GOD thing. It isn't for us to question, but to accept it and acknowledge the gifts for what they are. Treasures. Tidbits of Heaven.
Yes, life started hard and shattered into lots of bits and pieces along the way. It has remained difficult much of the time. However, now and then someone comes to our side and is willing to sing Itsy Bitsy Spider and You Are My Sunshine. Just because of something so simple, done in love, our hearts and our emotions feel happy and complete. I love those happy sounds the most in my house from my sons. I do not take them for granted. I inhale them into my soul, and I thank God for allowing us to keep Brandon and Clay physically here with us. I encourage all of you who may need someone to sing such encouragement and love into your souls to know that Jesus is always that willing comforter standing right next to you; He is lifting your spirits, providing you rest, and is always available. All you have to do is open your heart and your ears to listen to the love songs God provides to you. May He cradle you in hands of comfort, relief, release and peace. My prayer is that you learn to put it all into His Hands of Grace.
<')))><
I say heart and lungs because I feel that Brandon played just as big a part in Clay's fight to survive as the rest of us did. Clay's heart could remember the sound of Brandon's voice and then Clay's lungs would function better with desire to heal. Many times the docs would stand around and watch as low nineties became mid to upper nineties. It was magical. It was also soothing and healing to us, realizing the special bond that was already strongly stitched between the two. It could not go unnoticed.
My post tonight isn't grand or well prepared because I've not felt well, but I sort of know how Clay felt when Brandon would sing encouraging words to him as Clay fought to hang on. Last night, today and many times in the past, it has been the sound of Clay's joy, of Brandon's gregarious personality, the sound of them picking on each other, that has given me the fight to feel better and to lift my spirits. Invisible disabilities such as Fibromyalgia, Trigeminal Neuralgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome can seem very debilitating at times. There are many women who battle through life in physical pain that never fully abates. If you look at us, you can't see the pain our bodies continually have to endure; we look amazingly well. We have become very good at wearing the masks of everything is great; of putting on the smile; of getting dressed and made up to look 'normal' on the outside. That is okay because we know who our sisters are. We hold each other up when one feels like throwing in a towel. We lift each other in prayers that tomorrow will be a much better day. We adapt the best way we know how. We've learned to cling to Jesus. So just as Brandon comforted Clay by singing songs, Clay now comforts me when he is feeling healthy and he is singing songs with angels we cannot see or hear. Clay sees them and Clay certainly hears them. How? It's a GOD thing. It isn't for us to question, but to accept it and acknowledge the gifts for what they are. Treasures. Tidbits of Heaven.
Yes, life started hard and shattered into lots of bits and pieces along the way. It has remained difficult much of the time. However, now and then someone comes to our side and is willing to sing Itsy Bitsy Spider and You Are My Sunshine. Just because of something so simple, done in love, our hearts and our emotions feel happy and complete. I love those happy sounds the most in my house from my sons. I do not take them for granted. I inhale them into my soul, and I thank God for allowing us to keep Brandon and Clay physically here with us. I encourage all of you who may need someone to sing such encouragement and love into your souls to know that Jesus is always that willing comforter standing right next to you; He is lifting your spirits, providing you rest, and is always available. All you have to do is open your heart and your ears to listen to the love songs God provides to you. May He cradle you in hands of comfort, relief, release and peace. My prayer is that you learn to put it all into His Hands of Grace.
<')))><
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