Tag Archives: inspiration

The thing about leprechauns

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One of my earliest memories is arriving to my kindergarten classroom on St. Patrick’s Day only to discover the whole room turned topsy-turvy with the windows left wide open.  Keep in mind this was March 17 in Pensacola so Minnesota’s winter wind wasn’t something we had to contend with.  The alarmed and shell-shocked teacher asked us all to help her pick up and to see if we could figure out what happened.  Eventually one of my classmates discovered footprints – GREEN! and lots of them on the windowsills.  Leprechauns!

I only have a few memories from kindergarten, but this one is definitely my favorite.  As the Luck of the Irish would have it, those leprechauns stuck with me my whole life, and now they come to visit each year that my children remember to put out our special St. Paddy’s day treasure box.   Fortunately, we know all about the wee folk, their friends, and all their doin’s.

Once or twice, we have been pixie-led in a forest.  We have listened for water sprites in babbling brooks.  We look for faerie nets in the morning dew, and we sincerely hope that those faeries are wearing out their shoes.  (Of course, that’s how the leprechauns get their gold – fixin’ faerie shoes.)  Then there are the leprechauns. . .

As I’ve gotten older, I seem to have a complicated relationship with the three that visit our house.  For as long back as Reed was old enough to leave out a treasure box, the same three Irishmen have visited our house.  Oh, I believe in them, but I just don’t endorse their ways all the time.  The funny thing about leprechauns is they do keep their promises; albeit not exactly the way you think they should.

They are obliged to fill that treasure box if you leave that treasure box out by the light of the moon on St. Patrick’s Eve.  The problem arises when the whole “Hey! They’re trying to find me gold” mentality that the wee folk have rears its ugly head.  When the kids were really little that thought never crossed their minds. But as it goes with children, they, too, get bigger and their thinking gets more sophisticated.

Almost overnight, some type of magic switch turns itself on, and my normal children become construction experts as well as engineering and architectural aficionados.  They have created elaborate traps, each offering some alluring “bait” to entice the leprechauns to enter in the hopes of hitting it big – meeting a leprechaun.  (So far, none have spent their gold before they caught one.)

Trap 2013 - complete with Fairy Cloie's house on top of a gold mine

Trap 2013 – complete with Fairy Cloie’s house on top of a gold mine

All the shoes that Fairy Cloie needs repaired.

All the shoes that Fairy Cloie needs repaired.

All that gold - notice the trap door string.

All that gold – notice the trap door string.

Well, despite their yearly return, the leprechauns don’t take too kindly all this trap business.  Each year they leave a treasure ranging to sugary cereal like Lucky charms (which my kids’ mom would never buy) and various Irish treats and treasures.  But what they really leave is a big fat mess and a treasure box hidden in some elaborate place!  Whole rooms of furniture have been turned upside down, children’s rooms have been toilet papered, and one year the entire dining room was set up outside on the lawn.  They might be little, but they aren’t weak.

Expensive cereal and messes in my house! Sometimes my love of these pint-sized gentlemen wears a little thin.  But when I see the sweetness in the notes they leave each and every year encouraging my kids to keep studying because someday  – just someday – they might actually catch one of them, my heart goes right back to my first leprechaun encounter all those years ago.

So to Seamus, Finnegan, and O’Malley if you are out there reading this blog, thank you for keeping the magic alive at our house. Somedays it really does pays to be an Irish girl, especially one young of heart.

Oops, I almost forgot. Finnegan – Cloie did find your hat, and she promises next year to leave it next to the trap treasure box.

Finnegan's hat and this year's note.

Finnegan’s hat and this year’s note.

Sweet Grace: hope-filled

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Note: While we are working on our website, the monthly newsletter will be found on the blog.  Once we have it finalized, the newsletter will be available by subscription only.  Graciously, we have some guest posts in this newsletter as we welcome submissions from our friends for the newsletter. Our lives have been enriched by the friends that God has put in our paths, and we would love for you to get to know them a little bit as well.

~ Real women ~ Real lives ~ Sweet Grace ~

As a little girl, Easter was always my favorite holiday.  I enjoyed Christmas, but Easter always made my heart just jump for joy.  I loved picking out the perfect Easter dress, bonnet, shoes, and those oh so adorable white gloves.  I still love gloves today. There is just something so genteel about little white gloves.  Growing up down South, we had egg hunts outside and sunrise services where we didn’t freeze to death.  When Easter morning arrived, I could hardly contain my excitement.  The items in my basket were always good, but for me the pure joy came when we stepped through the doors of our white church.  He is risen!  He is risen indeed!  Those hope-filled phrases were used in place of hello, and they echoed from every corner of the sanctuary.Lil' Sprout Memories   Christmas is wonderful, but it if you want to see joyful Christians come to church early on Easter morning.  I like contemporary Christian music, but I was raised on good old Southern gospel hymns. Each Easter, joy and hope exuded from every pore as we sang “Because He Lives” and “Christ the Lord is Risen Today”.  Even today, I still get goose bumps when I hear the organ roll leading into the chorus of “Up from the Grave He Arose”.

Easter is the definition of HOPE. Maybe not according to Webster’s, but it really should be.  Recently, I have been grappling with the reality of Easter.  For any believer who has lost someone, the significance of Easter is a clinging hope. The only hope that makes sense. It is the promise that through Christ’s sacrifice, we will see those loved ones again.  His incredible gift to humanity has made that possible.  When I was a little girl singing with her church family, I would often get choked up on Easter morning.  The chocolate bunnies and Peeps were nice, but even then I realized that someone gave his life for me.  Lately, my conflict has been are we recognizing what Jesus really did? He didn’t just give up extra cream in his latte or get bumped off a flight.  He gave his life in a cruel, brutal and foretold way so that we could know the lavish depth of His Father’s love. If you have ever felt unloved, this is why you shouldn’t.  He loved you enough to go through with the most horrific of deaths.  If you ever feel left out or rejected, please know that he chose me (and you and everyone else) – loved me enough to lay down his life.  But even more significantly, he would have done it even if I was the only one who needed to be saved, and that alone fills my heart with hope.

Family Cooking: Easter Bread Nest

oneperfectbite.blogspot.com

oneperfectbite.blogspot.com

This has been a gift for several years from our friend, Karla Adams.  She is an amazing cook, seamstress, volunteer, and friend.  Actually, I don’t know much she isn’t good at. Kandy’s kiddos have always loved when the Easter “knock” comes and there she is with the gift of this bread.  It always looks beautiful on our Easter table.  Delicious, fun, and something the whole family will love.

Ingredients:

2 Frozen loaves bread

5 raw eggs

Food coloring

Powdered sugar frosting

Dye eggs with food coloring. Add food coloring to 1/2 c water. Dye as desired. DO NOT boil eggs first.

 

When bread is thawed and just starting to rise,  make into ropes of dough. You will have 2 long ropes. Take the ropes and twist them together. Place on a greased cookie sheet. Shape into a circle and pinch the end together to form this circle. Place the dyed eggs into the braided gaps. This will look funny at first. But as the bread rises it will look more like a nest.

Spray dough with cooking spray. Try not to spray eggs. Place a flour sack towel over it. When bread has doubled in size, bake @ 350 for 25– 30 minutes or until golden brown.

Cool completely. Drizzle with powdered sugar frosting. Leave it white or color it. Sprinkle with Easter colored M&M’s or robin egg candies.

NOTE: Before making the ropes I like to roll out each loaf of bread and add some butter and sugar with cinnamon. This gives it a little extra look and taste.

February Challenges: The February newsletter’s theme was love.  We encouraged our readers to Did you love your neighbors? Did you encourage a young person last month?  If so we would love to hear from you. 

The best laid plans . . . well, we didn’t get the neighborhood soup night accomplished.   The mission/tagline of this ministry ~ Real women ~ Real lives ~ Sweet Grace isn’t just something we say, but it is how we really operate on a daily basis.  We want to be genuine and real, even when we come up short on goals.  Instead of soup night, we cleared snow off of driveways following a recent snow storm.  Our neighbors who were out of town returned home to clean driveways and were able to just relax.  I did accomplish the writing of letters for challenge #2.  I chose six teenagers to write letters of encouragement and told how proud I was of them.  Most importantly, I told them how I was glad they were in my children’s lives.  After I had mailed them, I told my kiddos that I had done it, in case any of the recipients said anything to them.  A few did, and I received a call from one mom.  The best was the one who caught my eye (didn’t say anything), but made sure I noticed her after the school band concert.  It felt really good to do it.   So much so, that I think it is going to become a habit.

fay-prairieMaking hope a habit is the lesson from our guest writer this month.  Our friend, Fay Prairie has blessed us with a great piece on choosing hope.  Fay is a speaker, writer, counselor, wife, mom, and friend.  You can learn more about her at her website http://www.fayprairie.com/ I have enjoyed getting to know her, and she has been a huge encouragement to me as I have decided to follow God’s leading in forming all of this.

Hope Can Advance Your Life

Life is full of uncertainties, disappointments, and moments of despair. However, even when times get difficult and intimidating, as long as we keep hope alive, we can continue to move forward with confidence.

When you have hope, you believe and have faith that things will get better and you will persevere. Hope is a powerful attitude which opens doors where despair slams them shut.

The Webster definition of hope is the “feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best” or the “feeling that something desired may happen.”

How does hope help us in our life?

1. Hope helps us to feel stronger. When we truly believe things will get better, we are willing to do whatever it takes. With hope we can look to the future with confidence and excitement, and we can begin to do more than we ever imagined.

2. Hope helps us focus on the positive. Whatever we focus on grows. When we maintain our focus on the positives in our life, more positive things come into our life. Hope allows us to look forward to all the wonderful things in life.

3. Hope helps us envision possibilities and solutions There will always be difficulties, but hope helps us to visualize good outcomes. It allows us to expect good things to happen.

4. Hope gives us the desire to learn and grow. Hope helps us regain interest and get involved more fully in life. By growing as a person we will make improvements that lead to greater life-satisfaction and well-being.

5. Hope helps us to take an empowered view toward life. A hopeful attitude helps us see the best, work for the best, and, ultimately, experience the best in life. Hope increases our joy, courage and level of success in life.

No matter what you face in life, always think hopefully, speak hopefully, work hopefully, and act hopefully. Do all you can to make hope a daily habit. Remind yourself that regardless of what happens in your life, you always have the option to choose hope.

Family Traditions

For the last few years, Kandy’s and Brenda’s families have gotten together to dye Easter eggs.  We all look forward to it.  Last year, I think we dyed eight dozen eggs.  We decided the four dozen from the year before just wasn’t enough. Everyone gets involved.  There is a lot of creativity – including planning for the next time we do this. Conversations of I saw this cool idea in Martha Stewart magazine or on Pinterest come up more than once. We dream, we plan, but mostly we laugh.  I don’t think anything tops the laughter from the year we created a mural with the left over dye.  After admiring everyone’s creations, we lamented about how the dye was just going to go to waste.  As a teacher, I am always up for a new experiment.  With a twinkle in my eye, I ran downstairs and grabbed an old white sheet that was destined to become a plant protector when the fall frosts threatened my garden.  We took those coffee cups filled with dye and splatter painted that sheet.  It was amazing.  It was so much fun that it lands up there with catching fireflies, playing in the sprinkler, and running to meet the ice cream truck for this Southern girl.  Of course, the most laughter came after the sheet dried and we noticed the now Easter dyed lawn.  Oh well, a little collateral damage was worth the fun we had.

We would love to hear of your families Easter traditions. Please respond to this post with what Easter traditions you and your family hold dear.  

 Family Easter Garden 

We decided to see repeat a blog from last year because it was such a wonderful activity that our whole family enjoyed. Our littlest one took pride each day in spritzing the garden with water.  As the garden grew, she delighted in trimming the lawn with scissors.

http://kandynolesstevens.com/2012/04/02/easter-countdown-part-1-johnathan-has-a-starring-role/

March Encouragement

Spend a few minutes each day in the next week, praying and asking God to bring to mind one – just one – person that you can bring hope.  Often in life, it is the small things that bring the most hope.  Once you know who that person is do one small thing for them – write a note, send flowers, drop by for a visit, make a call, make a meal, do a chore. Just do something, and leave a message of hope.  If you feel comfortable, you can tell the recipient you were the hope-filled giver.  We would love to hear what you decide to do.

Ministry Update

We are proud to announce that we have partnered with 5j Design LLC to design our logo and website  to help us basically help ourselves (when we are way over our heads technically speaking).  They are assisting us in developing a better way to reach others with the message of God’s grace and love. In the coming months, we should have a new website with a more streamlined method of communicating with our friends and churches.  The story of how we found Jake and Zach is an amazing God story, but just know He is looking out for us.  Based on guidance from our friends at 5J Design, we have made one small change in our ministry.  Watch for the unveiling of that change in the coming days.

We wait with hope for spring filled days where we can sit on the deck, sipping sweet tea and chatting.  Until then, we would love to chat with you.

Kandy & Brenda

Romans 15:13  May the God of hope fill you  with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you  may abound in hope. (NIV)


					

		
		
	


	

				

			
						

				Surgery No. 7
			

										

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brothers


Middle of the night,


Sleep wouldn’t come.


I looked for you there, snuggled in my bed,  calling out Your name.


I lay there waiting for Your peace, hoping Your loving hands would wrap around me with the message,


“Daughter, I am here. Your boy will be just fine.  He, too, is in my hands.”


I rested knowing that I know You heard my pleas.


Routine as normal – dogs, breakfast, school.


Our other routine – surgery prep came next.


Pack, prepare, read, re-read, do anything however small to take your mind off what comes next.


The clock ticks slowly, but it now says it is time to go.


My momma heart aches.  I know this is going to hurt.


If he’s afraid, he doesn’t show it.  Once again, he is comforting me.


Thank you, God, that this time . . . this time the surgery is on our home turf.


We aren’t splintered as a family.


Again, I wanted to feel your peace.


After necessary paperwork to the surgical suite we go.


I found You there.


as our pastor was praying with someone else.


A gentle reminder that we are not the only ones that hurt.


Off we go to his room.


I have to smile because maybe it should have our name on it because it is the room I had in the fall.


Stevens Family Surgical Suite


By now, our new family tradition is trips to hospitals with March being our “celebration” month.


Three of the seven surgeries took place in March.


Questions


Questions


More questions


Then it came. . . the dreaded question.


What did you do to get here?


Nothing.  He did absolutely nothing.


Grief washes over . . . loss of a child, loss of a childhood, two brothers changed forever.


I found You there


when the boy comforts the nurse who realizes what she said.


He comforts her like she is the one who has walked our story.


Later things don’t go as we had hoped for the IV.


I found You there


as the nurse asks for God’s hands to guide hers.


Relief fills the room.


More questions


Laughter stemming from how small town news travels fast


We pray.


Prayer – it is the only thing that makes sense.


It is what I’ve been doing since the middle of the night.


I found You there


as hands –  loving, healing hands were placed


as words were prayed from your Words.


It is time to go.


I sat


I prayed


I kept my mind busy by keeping my hands busy


I found You there


when an old friend stopped to see someone else


She simply smiled and said,  “Look at the possibilities.”


Look at the possibilities!


She dared us to dream.


Not just for the immediate future but for where Your plans were taking us.


Dreaming with new hope.


Wait


Wait


Wait


It is done. We talk with the surgeon.


I found You there


When the surgeon said she wished all her patients were as healthy.


After all he’s been through, her words give us new perspective.


Now he just has to awaken.


Wait


Wait


Wait more.


He’s starting to rouse.  We can come back to the suite.


Seeing something for the first time that I wasn’t sure I would ever see.


Five years! We have waited five years for this chance.


This could be a game changer for him.


Perhaps this is the end of this part of the story.


We are left alone and


slowly . . . 


I feel them coming. I cannot stop them.


big, BIG tears start to stream down. 


I look across the room to see my tears mirrored in the Daddy’s face. 


I found You there


as we realized it would all be okay . . .


because You were there all along.


And now, his feet can follow wherever You lead him. 



					

		
		
	


	

				

			
						

				Yeah, whatever!
			

										

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Kandy snowYesterday, I wrote about the blessing of friendship.  Over the weekend, my pastor spoke about having friends who love us enough to offer reproof.  You know the type of friends who see we are doing something wrong and who are bold enough to say it.


Faithful are the wounds of a friend. Proverbs 27: 6a (NASB)


Ouch! I don’t think I had ever really dissected that verse.  Reliable, faithful friends. Check! I’ve got those. Friends who point out what I don’t like to hear. Yep! I’ve got those too.  I have a couple friends who God’s mission for their lives must be to point out whenever I’ve said “Yes” once too many times.  Do I like it? Not usually.  Do I make excuses? Absolutely! Do I know they are right? Yes, and eventually, I accept that they have offered sage advice.  There is always the one friend, however faithful, that just comes right out and says it like it is.


After my pastor drew attention to that verse on Sunday, I was immediately transported back to a day about a week ago.  That day we received some unsettling news, and there was an big evening event at our school I was to attend.  I chose to stay home to be quiet and crochet.  After a while, I received a text from THAT friend.


Where are you?


I didn’t feel well.  Chose to stay home. I’m watching Matlock & crocheting.


Dan said you were under the weather.


Yeah, I’m fine. Just wanted a quiet night at home.


Yeah, whatever! I don’t believe you. What is really going on?


What just happened here?  She saw right through my smoke screen, and she called me on it.  Since she was sitting in the bleachers surrounded by my husband and many of our friends, I sent her the honest answer, but prefaced it with a “DO NOT FREAK OUT! I will call you tomorrow.”  text. Then I proceeded to tell her that we learned that Sawyer was going to need another surgery.  I always knew it might have to happen, but I just wasn’t ready for it yet.


It was going to be surgery – number 7, and another one in March.  This month has not-so-affectionately become surgery month for our boy.  I hate it, and I just needed a night to process it.  I think if I had gone to the school and anyone even looked at me, I would have cried.  I couldn’t bring myself to put on a happy face.  Instead, I chose to stay home and surround myself with comforting things – old quilts, old crafts, and old shows. The whole time I sat at home wishing this wasn’t our life, and wishing I could I wish it all away.


In reality, even though I was trying to hide from the world, God knew exactly what was going on.  He wasn’t fooled for a minute.  His awareness of my sadness is most likely what caused my friend to basically say, “Cut the crap. I don’t know what’s going on, but you are NOT fine.”  Faithful are the wounds of a friend.  


Her “wounds” allowed me to open up and share with her and several others about what my tomorrow holds.  Her “wounds” allowed me to face my fears, but more importantly, it reminded me of the heart of this verse.  Friends who say it like it is do so because they love us. They remind us that even if we feel isolated, we are never really alone. 

					

		
		
	


	

				

			
						

				Where’s my Bat signal?
			

										

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A while back, I received a call from a dear friend who needed some help.  The request was one that I accepted realizing that it was going to be a stretch for me to pull it off.  In my heart though, I knew other friends would have my back (or in this case, neck).


The request was simple.  My friend (who is a preschool teacher) was looking for someone to make 8 little scarves in two weeks for her students to receive as gifts during their study of winter weather.  The catch: they needed to be knit or crocheted. There was a book that she would be reading as a culmination of the unit, and the scarves would be a part of that story.


I hung up the phone, and then, thought what in the world did I just say I would do.  (That type of behavior is my own curse, and fodder for a whole different blog.) Without hesitation, I went to my version of the Bat-signal.  Batman had his alert method, and I have mine.  Formerly, it was CaringBridge but now it is Facebook.  As fast as my fingers could fly, I posted my friend’s request and asked for help.  I pledged to create two, but I explained I could use some extra hands and needles/hooks for the remaining six. Within eight hours, all eight were spoken for. And within a week and half, all were delivered into the hands of some little preschoolers.


scarves


I never really doubted that they would be, but what amazed me was a comment that another “friend” posted. I should clarify our friendship status.  We “met” making a transaction online, and the necessity of that business deal required us to befriend each other.  Once we did, we discovered we had some similar interests and thus an online friendship formed.  We’ve never actually met one another in person.


Yet in the midst of my friends chiming in that they were on it, this gal’s comments stopped me in my tracks.  Sometimes especially when I encounter lemons or changes in plans, I forget just how blessed that I really am.  The comment while simple summed it up perfectly.


Kandy, even though we have never met, you must have the most amazing friends.


She was right, and I knew it.  Many times those same sweet friends have come to my rescue for all kinds of things including some of my doing.  I don’t live anywhere remotely close to my family at all, and most of my husband’s family is fairly far away as well.  Sometimes I don’t even have to ask for the help, my friends just know when to call, text, or show up.  Somehow they get God’s gentle prompting that I need them.


Proverbs 20:6

Many will say they are loyal friends, but who can find one who is truly reliable? (NLT)


 Thankfully, in my case, the answer to that question is “I can” many times over.  Today, I’m counting each and every one of those blessings, knowing I probably never needed that Bat-signal anyways!


 

					

		
		
	


	

				

			
						

				Life’s sweet lemons
			

										

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sweet teaToday was one of those “when life hands you lemons” sort of days.  My littlest one coughed all night long, and we chose to keep her home from school.  We’ve been having some car troubles; so, I sent the big kids to school in a more reliable vehicle. Thus, I had no wheels to get to my doctor’s appointment, but I didn’t really want to take a sick little girl out anyway.  Now I have to reschedule into my already busy agenda.  Lemons!


One of my favorite Southern girl quotes is “When life hands you lemons, put ‘em in your sweet tea and thank God you’re a Southern girl.” Embracing that spirit AND with a full glass of tea in my hands, I decided to make the most of it.  I looked at my ever present to-do list and decided the laundry and the ironing made the cut today.  I enjoy ironing, so it was somewhat therapeutic to press away.  During my chore time, I noticed a Redbox case still sitting by the television.  Shoot!  We have got to get that returned.  One more lemon!


Between items, I went over to pick up the DVD only to discover it wasn’t in the box.  I attempted to get the DVD out of the player, but attempt was the operative word.  It wouldn’t budge.  I was beginning to wonder if I needed more than chemistry and mathematics degrees to know how to operate the thing.  Then I realized it wouldn’t even turn on.  I decided to wait until one of the guys came home.  Sawyer was here first so I asked him to retrieve the DVD and return it to the store.


I heard a lot of fiddling around, and eventually, I heard the toolbox open up.  I came out to ask what was going on when I heard the unmistakable sound of a ratchet-style wrench.  His idea was to take the cover off and just see what was going on. Boys! I just wanted to return a rental, and here I was having technology surgery on my kitchen table.  Talk about lemons!


The cause of the current lemon challenge was shocking.  Instead of just something stuck in the path of the sliding drawer was the evidence of small fire that had taken place in our DVD player.  That DVD player was in the basement that we just spent an entire year remodeling.


At that point, I was thanking God that I was Southern.  I was thanking Him that He showed me just how important small inconveniences really can be.  We were saved from losing anything more than a $30 DVD player, when the consequences could have been much, much worse.


I was thanking Him for the protection of my family and our memories and the realization that He is always watching over us.  What began as inconveniences that were mildly bitter became blessings that never tasted so sweet.  


 

					

		
		
	


	

				

			
						

				The thing about grief . . . Part 8
			

										

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from www.aquietsimplelife.com
from www.aquietsimplelife.com


Parental Warning:   I don’t really think that I have a strong following of teenagers or kids, but if someone does read these blogs to kids, please pre-read.  I am sharing something of a somewhat graphic nature today.  It is probably best not to have the kiddos read this one without any discussion.


I truly believe that there is no such thing as coincidence.  Looking back in my life, I see circumstances where there was a person to meet, a challenge to tackle, or a lesson to be learned.  All part of God’s plan for my life’s direction.  Since my actual vision is quite myopic, I can speak as an expert – one who has amazing 20/20 hindsight. It’s just too bad it sometimes takes years to for my vision to become so clear.


Sometimes God uses otherwise innocuous events – a telephone call, a card from a friend, the words in my morning devotional.  On the latter one, I have been known to call friends who have the same devotional just to confirm that they had the same words on their page because it seemed to be written just for me.  God’s wisdom has been revealed to me by really listening to the words spoken by others (even on television on occasion).  At times the airing of songs on the radio seems divinely appointed just for me.


Tonight I have tickets for the Third Day concert.  This was my Christmas present from my earthly love, who will be my date.  In my excitement for the evening, I started thinking about the radio station (Life 96.5) and the band that played a song for my heart in what was possibly one of the darkest hours of my life.


I was transported back to October 2003, when I was four months pregnant with what would have been our fifth pregnancy.  While watching the World Series, I started to feel little cramps, but I felt better after lying down. By Monday at school, I had to step out of my classroom because whatever was going on wasn’t better.  In fact, it was drastically worse. Having gone down this road before, I sadly suspected I was having a miscarriage.


An hour later, our fears were confirmed.  My doctor who understood my wishes for the least amount medical intervention necessary gave me two options: a D&C or go home and wait out the passing of my child from my body.  We chose the latter.  I could have returned to school, but I elected to stay home, not wanting to have this intensely private moment in the “public eye”.  There were no guarantees on time limits.  This waiting could have went on until full-term, and I wasn’t ready to be out in the world with my pain.


To keep my mind busy, I started doing projects around the house, all the while listening to uplifting music.  Every day, I would awaken thinking that today could be the day.  I was scared, terrified really, but I just kept going.  Thursday of that very week, the time came.  I was home alone.  Grief was the deepest crevasse that began to swallow me.


I literally laid on the cold, bathroom tile and sobbed. After some time, I got up off the floor to get a drink of water.  While standing at the kitchen sink, a song I had never heard before came on the radio.  For whatever reason, my spinning head paused long enough to allow the words to penetrate my soul.  I don’t even know how it was possible, but my anguish turned to praise.  From the artists’ words, I knew that the shell of person on the bathroom floor had been loved enough by God for Him to allow his baby to die for me. That same baby loved me enough to go through deeper anguish than my own to be there for me in that tiny little kitchen.


In the period of maybe ten minutes, I went from crumpled on the floor to standing in kitchen with hands held high in praise.  My grief was far from over. I would have to walk through that as well.  The change came, however, from a heart empty and hopeless transformed to hope-filled.


I have included a video of that song below.  The Third Day band members and my “friends” at Life 96.5 have never heard this story, but on one October day that what they do mattered . . . and it still does.


God can use something as small as a song on a radio station to change hearts, I know because I am living proof.



					

		
		
	


	

				

			
						

				Reed’s Run – 30 days to go
			

										

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ImageI have never felt the need to do this before, but somehow as the reality that the end is coming soon, I suddenly have a desire to share the “behind the scenes” decisions and reasons for what we do.  I ask that you as you read these posts that you share them if you feel led to do so.


How did this run come about in the first place?  In the wee hours following Reed’s death, a dear friend (who is coming from California to this year’s run) planted the idea that we needed to start a scholarship because Reed LOVED to learn.  We adored the idea, but had no idea how we would fund the thing.  Additionally, we didn’t want to give a small scholarship – we wanted ONE that would make a significant impact in the lives of students.  With that in mind, how in the world were we going to do this?


Throughout this part of our journey, we received cards and letters of support and encouragement from everywhere.  One day, we received one, from another now friend who has walked in our shoes (who will also be at Reed’s Run), that told of the run they do for their son.  We saw their website and were encouraged, but run – seriously – Reed was emphatically NOT a runner.  Golf tournament – art show – Star Wars movie marathon: all seemed more our boy’s style.


About this same a few sweet boys in Reed’s class and on his football team shared stories that our redhead NEVER told us.  I realize we were just beginning our grief journey, and any story was like precious jewels. But these stories opened up our eyes to just how much Reed never tooted his own horn. Apparently during football conditioning, Reed encouraged others when they thought they had nothing left to give.  One story told of how they were laying on the ground doing leg lifts.  The boy next to Reed was about to give up.  Reed told him, “This is going to make us better.  You can do it.”  The boy shared that gave him just enough to keep going.  The second story became the inspiration behind Reed’s Run.


In all honesty, Reed was still in the “husky” stage of life.  If you have boys or men in your life, they know which jeans section I am talking about.  So for 12 years old, he hadn’t outgrown that stage yet.  Additionally, he wasn’t the quickest or best runner by far.  The boys told us of how Reed would run his required laps, but here is where the story gets interesting.  Instead of quitting, he would cut across the field and run alongside the boys who were behind him (I am guessing there weren’t many).  He would run the rest of their required time with them, encouraging them, telling them he wasn’t going to leave them behind.  INCREDULOUS – a kid who didn’t enjoy running – did THAT!  That kid was MY boy!


We confirmed the story with the coaches, who added that it caught on and that others started doing it too.  We knew then how we were going to raise funds for his scholarship.  Last night I saw a video that caused me to sob.  I am including the link below.  I never got to witness Reed’s “Run”, but I have to imagine in a small way it was like this.


Even though we never thought Reed’s Run would become as big as it has, we are glad that we get to share that small piece of our boy with everyone. The world always needs friends who run along side.  Thank you to all the people who continue to do that for us and who give of their time, money, donations, love and support to make this dream (Reed’s Run) a reality.


http://www.godvine.com/The-Inspiring-Story-of-Matt-Woodrum-Can-Bring-Anyone-to-Tears-1990.html


Please note:  We have amazing admiration for the tenacity and spirit of Matt Woodrum and all that he has taught his community, and now, the world.  Apparently, God has placed young men (and women) all over the world to teach us a lot about ourselves.   Thank you Matt for teaching more about what you CAN DO than what the world tells us you can’t. Since Reed’s death, I have learned that, indeed, God can use young men to change the world.

					

		
		
	


	

				

			
						

				Thanks for the Ride
			

										

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Sally Ride
Photo from www.sallyridescience.com


When I was a little girl in school, it became pretty clear that I was interested in subjects that not all the other girls enjoyed.  I was (and still am) enamored with math and science.  Even today, I enjoy a good algebra or chemistry problem.  In fact, the first day of my high school physics class, the teacher announced, “Gentlemen, we are going to have a great year. Ladies (of which there were 3 of us) not a single one of you will be left in this class before the year is over.”  I was just stubborn enough to prove him wrong, even if I stood alone.


Sadly though, my physics experience wouldn’t be the last, and my education up until that point was pretty bereft of exposure to women in what would become my chosen fields of study with the dreams of being a teacher.  The only women scientists I knew were Sally Ride and Christa McAuliffe.  I cried for days when Christa and the other six crew members died in the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster.  Yet her courage, to go where no other teacher had before her, filled my little heart with soaring pride to be not only an American, but also a girl in America. My dream to someday be the “Teacher on the Trail” for the Iditarod stems from her pioneering spirit.


On July 23, 2012, we said good-bye to my other science role model, Sally Ride.  I thought she was the most amazing and fearless woman to walk the earth.  Sharing common interests, tennis and science, I always kept tabs on her career following her 1983 barrier breaking mission as the first woman astronaut.  She inspired me to push farther, to dream bigger, and to never settle for second best.  As an educator, I strive to find resources to expose children – boys and girls – to pioneering role models from whom they can learn.  Sally Ride was that inspirational person for me.


Last week was a crazy one for my family as I made two trips in as many days to take 2 of my children for appointments at the Mayo Clinic.  It is a four hour drive one-way from my house.  At the end of a road-weary and draining Day 2, my daughter asked me why all the flags were flying at half-mast in the town we were driving through.


I replied incorrectly, “Perhaps, it is because Sally Ride died yesterday.”  (I have since learned it was to honor the victims from Aurora, CO.  God bless them every one.)  My daughter had no idea who Dr. Ride was. I shared my story of how Sally Ride (along with Christa McAuliffe) was my role model in a time when women role models were not the norm, especially in the things I loved.  Hearing my enthusiasm and passion, my daughter learned a little bit about what inspired me in future career choices when I was her age.  Her response was priceless, “Wow! Mom, she sounds like an amazing person!”


Whomever Erin chooses to be her inspiration, hopefully she finds someone, like me, who encourages her to hook her dreams to the stars and to enjoy the ride.  So long, Sally – you will truly be missed.