the last 100 days

Once I went to a DC Talk concert and heard Toby Mac speak about returning to God after walking away.  I vividly remember him moving across the stage, far away from the rest of the band.  While he walked, he talked about how sometimes we find ourselves far from God - either because we've run from Him intentionally or we've simply drifted away because our focus is elsewhere.  He said it might feel like a long journey to get back to intimacy with God because we believe we have to cover that same distance back to where we feel like we left him, but that's not true.  At any moment, no matter how far away from God we feel we are, all we have to do is turn toward Him, and the minute we call to Him, God meets us right where we are.  I've always remembered this illustration so vividly for some reason.  It popped into my head again this week.

***

Honestly, I've been struggling.  Between the pandemic and the shutdowns and the election and the vaccine mandate and [what feels like] the endless assault on so many of the things I value (like freedom and civility, for starters)...my faith has started to feel a little wobbly.  I still believe all the things - God is good, He is bigger than the problems we face, His kingdom is sovereign over everything, He promises to sustain us through trials, He's eternal when nothing else is, He knows the number of my days - but I'm so easily swept up in the fear and the anger and the noise that the world is constantly peddling.  I really do know better, but it is a constant battle, sometimes minute by minute.  I guess I've been feeling a little battle-fatigued, and I've let my discouragement and exhaustion and distraction slowly move me farther and farther away from my Father.  Frankly, it has just been easier to shut down...to mindlessly scroll through social media, to binge watch a new series on Netflix, to sleep in a little more every day and to wallow in a little bit of worldliness disguised as rest.

The farther I move away from Him, the easier it becomes to do my own thing and ignore that still small voice.  The less time I spend with Him, the easier it gets to spend all my time focused on myself or my problems (or the world and its problems which seem endless right now).  The slippery slope of that little bit of space and little bit of distance leads to me feeling completely discouraged and hopeless and alone and afraid in way that makes the things I know about God hard to rest in and rely on.

So after several weeks spent focusing more and more on the problems of the world, worrying, speaking fear, imagining worst case scenarios, spending my "rest" time on things that are not actually restful.  As a consequence, I've spent less time praying or reading God's word or speaking truth to myself.  It isn't surprising to find myself back in a pit of discouragement, feeling far from God.

But this week, I began turning back...and being the faithful God that He is, He has met me right where I find myself.

***  

At the beginning of the year, I wrote a verse for each week in my planner (favorite verses that friends and family shared with me).  Lately, they have been stacking up on my weekly "to do" list because I haven't taken the time to look them up and meditate on them during the week the came up in my planner.  As only God can orchestrate, each one (given to me over nine months ago and placed haphazardly in my planner, and saved up to read right now) was a perfectly chosen balm to soothe my weary soul, calm my raging fears, and comfort my needy heart.

***

2 Timothy 1:7: For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.

Philippians 4:6: Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.

Romans 8:28: And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

Proverbs 16:9: In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps.

John 14:27: Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

It feels like God spoke right into my fears and struggles and I felt so incredibly known and loved.

Not to sound like an infomercial, but wait!  There's more!

When I'm discouraged by the world, I can take heart!  Jesus has overcome the world!  (John 16:33)

When I feel hard-hearted, I'm reminded to be merciful, as my Father is merciful! (Luke 6:36)

When I don't know what to do in this crazy world, I can think the greatest commandment and start there: Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength...and love your neighbor as yourself. (Mark 12:29-31)

And when I'm weary, instead of turning to mind-numbing electronics or avoidance, I can come away and be in a quiet place with my Creator who gives me true rest.  (Mark 6:31, Matthew 11:28-30)

***

Starting tomorrow there are 100 days left in this year.  Maybe your year, like mine, has been less than you hoped it would be.  Would you consider joining me in committing a few minutes of each of those 100 days in prayer and reading God's word?  Maybe He will redeem the remaining days of 2021 and make something beautiful.  I'm certain of two things: if we seek Him, we will find Him and He is all we need.

***

I'm not sure if this will help anyone or make sense to anyone but me.  I pray that if you take the time to read this far, that you will be encouraged - and reminded - that you are seen, you are known, and you are loved beyond anything you can imagine.  Rest in Him.  He's the only truth, the only safe place, and the only one that can meet your needs.  HE LOVES YOU.

on the 'rona

For me, it started with a sore throat.  

 

Even though I felt really tired all week and it was a huge struggle to get up every morning, I didn’t think anything of it until my throat started hurting and I started getting really congested and achy all over.  Still, I assumed it was a cold but when I realized I was panting and struggling to catch my breath, I became concerned and began googling COVID symptoms.  Even though I was a little alarmed, I tried to convince myself I was overreacting.  For a lot of reasons I'm not going to go into, I really didn't want to be tested.  But my husband is immune-suppressed and I decided I just couldn't risk it.  I went to a mobile testing center, where they swabbed me in my car and told me I would receive a text the following day if the test was negative and a call if it was positive.  [For the record, the test itself was fine - nobody likes a q-tip up the nose but it wasn't especially invasive or uncomfortable, certainly nothing to be afraid of.]

 

The next day I was still really tired and congested, with the same sore throat, and my nose had also started to run.  I also realized that I didn't have any sense of smell or taste.  This sounds like a minor annoyance but it really bothered me - I cannot describe what a strange and disconcerting feeling it is not to be able to smell or taste at all. 

 

When I finally received the call that I had tested positive for COVID, I was instructed to let my family, friends, and employer know but I wasn't give any further instructions like how long to quarantine, how long I had been contagious, etc.  (In hindsight, that might be because the caller was eager to get off the phone with me after I started bawling.)  I felt completely overwhelmed and scared and (irrationally) embarrassed.  

 

[For the record, the governor in my state requires a mask in public (as does my employer) so I couldn't imagine where or how I could have been exposed.  I still have no idea.  I don't supposed it really matters.]

 

I let my family know, contacted my employer, and reached out the handful of people I had interacted with during the week.  I felt guilty for putting anyone at risk and irrationally weak and annoyed at myself for getting tested in the first place. 

 

The symptoms, for me, have been mild.  I’ve definitely been sick but I've been fortunate that I don't have underlying health issues and I've been able to be home alone to recover.  After several days of mostly blowing my nose and sleeping, I have finally started feeling a little better.  I'm praying that my strength returns soon and I won’t feel so winded.  I’m also eagerly awaiting the return of my senses of smell and taste.  

 

Emotionally, however, it has been a rough week.  I have felt lonely and ostracized.  I've been irrationally angry at the world and have battled self-pity almost constantly.  It has been humiliating to have my workplace completely shut down, and heartbreaking to wait and hope and pray no one around me was exposed.  From the moment I got the call that I tested positive, I have felt like a pariah. 

 

I've realized that this virus has changed the world in a lot of ways that I don't think are good for our humanity.  Still, this post isn't intended to be about the politics that unfortunately surround this whole pandemic or about the ways I wish things were different.  I simply wanted to share my limited experience.  I've deliberately kept this quiet but as I move to toward the end of my quarantine period, I am becoming less concerned with the optics of this situation.  As usual, I am discovering there is always much to be thankful for even in difficult times.

 

I am grateful for friends and coworkers who reached out to check on me.  I'm grateful for praying loved ones.  I'm grateful for everyone around that received a negative test.  I'm grateful for grocery delivery.  I'm grateful that my husband had a place to stay to avoid further exposure.  I'm grateful for my immune system and the fact that, so far, it looks like I will come through this whole mess with restored health.

 

And yet...

 

This situation has reminded me once again that, at the end of day, all I can depend on is Jesus.  

 

Everything else can be stripped away.  

 

Even though this has been a temporary situation and I've still had phone calls and FaceTime and text messages full of love and good wishes, I have felt very much alone.  I've been reminded no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try, we are not in control.  I have to be reminded of this over and over.  Any control I feel is an illusion.  

 

These things are always true - I just get sidetracked sometimes, focused on the comfort of my illusions.

 

My only hope is Jesus.  

My only safety is Jesus.  

My only health is Jesus. 

My only confidence is Jesus. 

My only peace is Jesus.  

My only comfort is Jesus.

My only rest is Jesus. 

 

Jesus. 

 

I'm ashamed because I didn't arrive at these conclusions quickly during this whole mess.  Because I know all this.  I've learned it all before.  Repeatedly.  But I am so quick to forget.  Over the past several days, I have been focused on my circumstances, on my embarrassment, on the news, on whatever information I could find on the internet.  I have cycled through fear and anger and hatred and bitterness and self-pity.  I spent several days wallowing around in the pit before I would even turn to God for help.  Thankfully, He is endlessly patient with me and He always gives me rest and peace if I ask, even if I'm slow to ask.

 

There's no moral to this story.  I'm have no political message or insight.  Mostly, I just feel tired and weak and overwhelmed and lonely and discouraged.

 

But I also have hope.  I have rest and peace and comfort.  Because Jesus loves me.  He is with me and He promises never to leave me.  He's not overwhelmed by my circumstances or this messy world.  

 

And at the end of the day, He is all I need.  

 

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.

-Matthew 11:28-30

 

***

 

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.

-John 14:27

 

***

 

Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God.  I will surely strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.

-Isaiah 41:10

 

on my second anniversary

 Married life.  

Year One Highlights.

August: Surprise wedding. Honeymoon in Taos. 

September: Family trip to see grandma.  Kenny’s birthday.  Medical trip to Texas.  Fun with Wendi and Carter.  Flying J Ranch fun.  Family trip to see Uncle Ken and Aunt Tamara.  First family camping trip and my first camping trip ever.  The kids and I go down a natural water slide in our hiking clothes. 

October: Another medical trip to Texas.  More time with Wendi and Carter.  We pick matching Halloween costumes and decorate the house.  Family outing to the Renaissance Fair.

November: Kids enjoy the Farm and Ranch museum.  Slightly creepy Santa visit.  Thanksgiving in Ruidoso.  We put up a beautiful Christmas tree.

December: 40th birthday celebration in Ruidoso.  Anniversary dinner at Double Eagle.  Kenny’s work Christmas party.  Tubing at my parents’ house.  Day after Christmas trips to the hospital.  New Year’s adventure with the kids.

January:  First trip to Mayo.  World rocked.  Day appointment becomes a week of appointments.  Kenny needs a new liver.  Celebrated Emmy’s birthday.  Fun family hike.  Jersey Boys in El Paso.

February: Kenny gets sick in Ruidoso.  Taken by ambulance to Las Cruces and spends over a week in the hospital.  Movie date with the kiddos.  Kenny starts getting scary skinny.  Valentine’s celebration with my love.

March: Snow in Las Cruces. Hikes with the sisters.  Move Kenny to Phoenix.  Waterpark adventures with the kids.  Hard goodbyes.  Dad’s birthday picnic at White Sands.  Roller coasters with Kenny.

April: Kenny gets on the transplant list.  Begin working 4 10’s and traveling to Phoenix most weekends.  Kenny gets to come home.  Fun with the kids in Las Cruces.  Kenny cooks and cooks and stocks my fridge with delicious meals before heading back to Phoenix.  Kenny goes to a Diamondbacks game.  Desert hiking.  I become obsessed with Saguaros.   Kenny shaves his beard.  Waterpark trip with kids and Mary for Easter in Tucson.

May: Kids have fun swimming with the cousins.  Gavin has a concert.  Kenny moves to the resort (thanks mom and dad!)  Get the first call as a backup for transplant.  Hopes up then crushed.  Griffin graduates kindergarten and my family is there since Kenny and I can’t be.  Memorial Day at the resort with Mary and the kids. Cheesecake Factory fun.  Hard goodbyes again.  

June: Move Kenny to the condo.  Emmy goes to camp at Lone Tree and accepts Jesus as her savior.  Kenny and I go to a Diamondbacks game and watch fireworks. Get a call.  Krinny drives with me to Phoenix.  Disappointment.  More calls. Kenny even gets prepped for surgery in his heated gown but at the last minute it’s called off.  More heartbreak.

July: Get another call. Drive all night and arrive at the hospital just as Kenny is being released.  Still no liver.  Mary and the kids come for July 4th.  Play in the pool.  Butterfly Wonderland.  Calls. Hospital stay.  No livers.  More goodbyes when Mary and kids go home.  Minor meltdown.  I decide to stay one more day.  Early morning call.  No time to spare.  It’s a go – Kenny is getting a transplant!!!  I now live in Phoenix.  Caretaker classes.  Clean the car, clean the condo.  Kenny gets released on day 5.  Rest and relax and recover.  Shop and cook and clean and help Kenny.  My coworkers donate leave so I can be out of the office.  GOT marathon.  Wendi visits. Bingo and fondue.  Coconut mail from Hawaii (thanks Mitchells!)  Staples come out.  

August: Visit from Mary and the kids.  Lion King. Celebrate Griffin’s birthday. Aquarium.  Benihana.  Kenny’s released!  Romantic trip to Sedona.  Search for vortexes.  Sunrise on the rocks.  Breakfast on the river.  Couples massage.  Mom and dad come to help us move home.  Back in Las Cruces.  Back to work. Achilles injury and a boot. Sister’s trip to Vancouver. Seawheeze Half Marathon.  First anniversary.  Emmy goes with Mary to see Elvis.  Family trip to Capitan for a football game.

Year Two.

September: Church. Puzzles.  Pool time with cousins.  Bubbles in the backyard.  Kenny’s birthday.  Celebrate Mary’s birthday with dinner on the rooftop.  Trip to the pumpkin patch.

October:  Baby rattlesnake on the porch.  Cowboys game in Dallas.  Ellen’s with Wendi and Carter.  Second annual family camping trip.  Hiking in the Hila.  Family Halloween as a band of pirates.

November: Griffin gets a black eye.  Family movie trip.  Back to Mayo for 4-month checkup.  Kenny is star patient.  Girls trip to Tulsa to meet Jana and Naomi for a half marathon.  We don’t run, just shop and catch up.  Juke gets antlers and a red nose for the holidays.  My Papa passes away.  I cook my first thanksgiving dinner.  We decorate beautiful Christmas trees.  

December: Kenny decorates the house for Christmas.  So thankful I married a Griswold.  Anniversary dinner at Double Eagle.  Kenny gets a light-up Christmas onesie.  I’m never to speak of it.  Oops. Ava’s Christmas concert.  Sleigh ride and Christmas fun.  Matching Christmas jammies.  Family time playing Las Crucesopoly.  Jump Adventure.

January: Garage clean out. Visit Dave’s horses.  I get to see Wicked in South Carolina during a work training.  Celebrate Emmy’s birthday with a Dragon Prince party.  Griffin gets a cute haircut.

February: Snow in Las Cruces. Date night and Kenny surprises me with tickets to a play.  Valentine’s day.  Start playing backgammon.  

March: Hike to the top of A mountain.  Kenny is getting super strong.  Global pandemic.  Start working from home.  Lots of hiking in Ruidoso.  Start watching the Mentalist.

April: More staying home. More hiking.  Plant flowers and vegetables.  More backgammon.  More Mentalist.

May: More hiking. Find waterfalls in Ruidoso.  Kayak at Caballo.  Start killing flowers.  Bell peppers start growing.  Trip to Granbury to see Wendi and Carter.  Start playing Wahoo.  Buy kids kayaks and our own Wahoo board.  Kids play in the river.  Family kayaking at Grindstone.

June: Play more Wahoo. Must take breaks so that marriage survives. Cherry picking with Mary and the kids.  43 pounds of cherries.  Pit cherries. Freeze cherries.  Give away cherries.  Bike tour of neighborhood parks.  Weekend in T or C.  Hot springs. Park.  Christina’s famous pizza.  Father’s day with the kids.

July: Back to Mayo (with masks on). Great report.  Weekend in Sedona.  Lots of good food and porch sitting.  Hot air balloon ride to celebrate Kenny’s livervsary.  Quinn’s birthday party.  Mexican popsicles.  Sister’s dinner at the Melting pot with Avalou.  Flying J fun with the Mitchells.  Huge bubbles and birthday cake to celebrate Griffin’s birthday early with Mary. First solo camping trip with Kenny (in the rain).  New trees and plants for the yard.

August: RV camping in Durango.  River rafting.  Ice-cold swimming pool.  Road trip to Silverton and Ouray.  Anniversary trip to Taos.  Climbing NM’s highest peak.  Orlandos.

***

It has been a wild ride, to say the least.  It's hard to believe we've only been married two years.  We say it all the time: it feels much longer (in a good way!)  After the first year was consumed by Kenny's health issues, we hoped for a simpler year two - but with a worldwide pandemic and complete insanity in this country and our state, we didn't get it.  Still, it's been two wonderful years, full of joy and laughter and love.  I made this list to highlight all the crazy hard stuff we've dealt with but it ended up being more of a reminder of all the good stuff, all the normal stuff, that we managed to fit in along with the hard stuff.  It truly is a wonderful life.  

I am the luckiest girl I know because I married my best friend - the kindest, sweetest, funniest, most generous and loving and patient guy I know.  He also happens to be super tall and super handsome.  And fun.  And smart.  And good, through and through.  He knows the value of things.  He doesn't give up, doesn't quit, doesn't take the easy route.  He's willing to do the hard work of staying and fighting for the people he loves.  He doesn't just say the words, he lives them out.  His life reflects them.  I said in our wedding vows that I fell in love with him because he fit all the characteristics of the biblical definition of love: patient, kind, not envious or boastful or proud, not dishonoring of others or self-seeking, keeping no record of wrongs.  Two years later, knowing him so much better, having gone through so much, all of those things are still true (and even more true).

I'm grateful for this life, for this love, for this man and I'm so thankful God brought our lives together through all the messy twists and turns that led us here.

Happy Anniversary, Kenny Stahl.

 

on fear and worry and the rage-inducing insanity of 2020

Confession time.  

Despite my faith - that God is good (ALL THE TIME) and that He is sovereign and in total control (even when circumstances seem out of control) - I have really been struggling the past few months...struggling with fear and helplessness and worry and anger. Actually, anger is too tame of a word. I have been full of rage. Like drive my car into another car, punch someone in the face rage. (It's not good.)

I started out scared. In the beginning, when we didn't know much about COVID, I was afraid. I was worried. But as time went on, and it became clear that we were lied to and made to feel afraid for a very specific agenda, I began to feel angry. Angry about lost freedoms, about people judging anyone who dared ask questions, about the complete misinformation from the media, about the attack on the economy, about the out and out lies from leadership. Two weeks of staying home turned in to two months turned into nearly half the year (with no end in sight!) Our state is one of the most locked-down in the country, despite these facts: we are the 5th largest state with one of the lowest populations per capita, we've had low COVID numbers and the cases we have had were primarily isolated to one small pocket of the state. But did our leaders focus restrictions to those areas? Nope, we were all locked down. Did we open up when deaths and hospitalizations declined? Nope. Angry. Frustrated. Helpless. Then came protests and looting and rioting. And I felt afraid again. Confused. Then came the attacks on police officers. Worried. Angry. Heartsick. More power plays from our politicians, more misrepresentation of numbers to support lockdown because it fits one party's agenda. (I'm no math genius but when you increase testing numbers from 40,000-50,000 to nearly 400,000 in a state where it is a KNOWN FACT based on antibody testing that there is some herd immunity, then OF COURSE you can show evidence of a spike in cases - even if hospitalizations and deaths do not track with those increases.). Angry. Helpless. Afraid of our quick slide in the direction of socialism. Learning how many people actually think they want socialism. Even more afraid. More enraged. So so so angry. Angry at the voters who elected our leadership. Angry at the people thanking our leaders for keeping them safe. Angry at the uninformed masses that cannot comprehend the unavoidable and inherent evil and danger in socialism.

But what of my faith? I have trusted God with the very life of my dearest love and watched Him do miracles - over and over, big and small. We celebrated the anniversary of one of those big miracles yesterday. Why isn't my faith bigger? Why can't I trust Him with all this?

I know I'm not alone. My counselor told me that many are struggling with the same things right now. [Yes, I sometimes see an amazing counselor. Yes, I have phone counseling now because of the whole pandemic mess. Yes, I recommend it for everyone. Find someone that shares your beliefs. It can be life-saving.]

My counselor talked about how, as a world, we are going through a major life disruption. It's frustrating and scary. Disruptions to structure and routine lead to anxiety. There's no end in sight, no timeline, no guarantee we will ever return to "normal." She listened to me whine and rage and then she gave me some really great advice. I'm sharing it as a personal reminder (note to self) and in hopes that it might help some of you as well.

1. Don't undermine your feelings. Validate yourself and what you are going through. There are no "bad" emotions. We just get to decide what to do with them. We don't have to beat ourselves up for feeling fear or even anger, but we have to choose how we respond to our feelings - whether we deal with them productively or let them sweep us up and lead us into bad actions, i.e. punching someone or posting angry things on Facebook. It is ok to give yourself permission to not be ok right now. You can be grateful and still feel scared, frustrated, sad, angry. You can trust God and still feel loss, confusion, uncertainty. You don't have to deny reality - life as we know it has been altered in a way most of us are very uncomfortable with. Give yourself permission to feel how you feel.

2. Identify small steps you can take. The world is out of control. (It always has been but it is way more evident to me right now on a very personal level.) Control issues always lead to anxiety (thanks Beth Moore for that timely reminder!). Recognize that this is nobody's preferred way of living. Ask yourself: What can I do that is next best? How can I cope with what is right now? How can I move forward in my small way? Even though I may feel powerless when I look at the big picture, I'm not. I have some control in my small universe - what is that? What are ways I can contribute? Serve? Support? Recognize people?  

One small example: The service industry in our state has taken a beating because our lockdown has been so strict and has lasted so long. So when Kenny and I eat out or do takeout, we try to tip outrageously. We both worked in the service industry and were good tippers to start with but we are trying to go above and beyond right now. I don't say this to be self-congratulating. In light of what people are dealing with, this is super small. But it is something we can do and it makes me feel less powerless given my inability to change the lockdown or the economy here.  

Another thing I've started trying to do is reaching out to people I know and care about and trying to encourage them. Again, it's super small. Sometimes it's a Facebook comment, sometimes it's a note in the mail, sometimes it's a phone call. But it makes me feel like I'm putting goodness out instead of fear, or worry, or rage. (I won't lie, I still put out way too much of that stuff, but I'm trying to add in some good stuff too. I'm a work in progress, people!)

3. Return your focus to your faith. God is not surprised by any of this. He loves us. He knows we're made of dust and we get scared. We worry. We get mad. We don't understand and we fail so often to do what He asked us to do: to LOVE each other. He's not diminished or weakened by my fear or anger. My testimony might be if I'm not constantly returning to Him...but His grace and goodness have never been measured by my ability to showcase them. I WANT to look like love. I WANT to give grace. I WANT to possess peace that passes understanding - and I can!!! He promised that to us - He makes it available!!! And He knows that, despite my failings, I want all that, because He knows my heart. He's endlessly patient with me. Some days I have to return my focus to Him (what feels like) a hundred times. He's always there. He always meets me where I am. He loves me endlessly. He loves you too. More than I can possibly explain. He is our ultimate COUNSELOR and He gives wisdom that saves and heals and transforms. All we have to do is ask. In my case, it usually just means stopping - stop raging or worrying or fearing or ranting...and listen to His voice. Cry out to Him before I cry out (or scream) to others. He is always there. ALWAYS.

This might all just be an exercise for me to calm my heart. I needed a balm to soothe my rage tonight. God always does that. He is always kind to me - humbling me and reminding me that this world is not my home, that He sets up kings and deposes them, that He didn't leave me in charge so I don't need to try and solve the world's problems. (Weird how I always forget that!)

If there is any part of this that encourages you, that's God's grace. Hold on to it. Rest in Him for a minute and let everything else fall away.  

My counselor (the human one) reminded me that this was not the design. We are created for community, for relationship, for closeness. While we can't always have that physically with those we love right now, we can alway have that with our Heavenly Father. And He can - and will - meet all our needs.

I just needed to remind myself.

I love you all and pray for peace.

the difference a year can make

One year ago today we arrived at Mayo.  It was a Friday appointment, the earliest one we could get when I started calling on December 28.  We had spent the day after Christmas in the emergency room only to return in the early morning hours of December 27.  We were miserable and exhausted and scared and confused and frustrated.  We had been given so much conflicting information from doctors who kept upping Kenny's meds and taking a wait and see approach, but all of my middle of the night online searching about his symptoms pointed to the same answer - that the only cure for a failing liver was transplant.

We had driven to Phoenix after work on Thursday night and finally located our tiny Airbnb a little after midnight.  We planned to stay a couple of nights and drive back over the weekend.  Kenny had early appointments for labs and testing then we met with a doctor later in the morning.  We were super impressed with Mayo's facilities and technology (for example, they had Kenny's lab results ready for the doctor to review moments after they took the samples instead of requiring multiple appointments weeks apart).  We were anxious to get answers but I think we both hoped against hope there was some answer besides a liver transplant, which seemed like a huge and scary solution.

When the doctor came in, he greeted us and sat down to review Kenny's labs.  I will never forget the moment he looked Kenny directly in the eye and told him he needed a new liver.  He said we could get evaluated and on the transplant list now, while Kenny was still in relatively good health otherwise or we could wait ten years and the answer would be the same.  Then he said the thing that shook us both to our cores: "But the truth is, I don't think you have ten years."  My brand new husband, who was 37 years old with two young children, didn't have ten years?  It felt like a nightmare.

We went to eat sushi, Kenny's comfort food, while we waited to hear whether we could start the evaluation process immediately.  The amazing doctors at Mayo, particularly the doctor we met with, moved heaven and earth to get more than 25 appointments set for the following Monday through Friday.  We scrambled to make arrangements with work and arranged places to stay and tried to figure out the budget for another week in Phoenix.  Over the next week, Kenny was poked, prodded, scanned and generally harassed to see if he was a good candidate for transplant.  He even had to meet with a  psychiatrist.  I won't go into all the details because this is supposed to be a post, not a novel, but it was a process that was hard and had a lot of lows for us.  What had seemed like a worst-case scenario (transplant) was now our only hope and we were terrified he wouldn't get listed. 

In February, after Kenny was hospitalized for over a week in Las Cruces, we knew we had to make the difficult choice to move him to Phoenix.  He could get treated at Mayo and it would make him a better candidate to be closer to the transplant center.  While it wasn't easy, we were grateful we were able to do it.  We were grateful his work was understanding, grateful my work allowed me to switch to a 4/10s schedule, grateful we had worked hard to pay off credit cards so we could max them all out again, grateful we had added Kenny to my insurance at work so we could even be at Mayo and afford something like this.  So many things to be grateful for...but it was still a hard spring.  We were supposed to be newlyweds and this was not the way we planned on spending the first year of our marriage.

We didn't know the Phoenix area and we didn't know how long he would be there so finding a place was challenging.  The first neighborhood was a little scary but he had wonderful housemates and a great backyard with a big pool (that he never got in because it was too cold - who knew pools in Phoenix aren't heated so they don't really use them in March/April).  My parents generously allowed us to use points from their timeshare so Kenny got to live at a resort for several weeks.  Despite hoping and praying that Kenny's time on the list would be short, we ended up needing a third place and we found a great little vacation rental condo in a beautiful complex near Mayo.  They even allowed us to extend for an additional two months and refunded what we didn't use.  So much to be grateful for. 

Being apart was hard and Kenny had to sacrifice lots of time with the kids.  While it was hard on us too, I was able to make the trip every weekend to see him.  Even though the circumstances were challenging, and I was usually so tired I just wanted to hang out and do nothing, we cherished our weekly mini vacations each weekend.  We were especially blessed with a nice cool spring by Phoenix standards.  We were also able to take the kids and Mary to see Kenny at least once every month he was gone and we were so blessed that their mom and Mary were able to fill in all the schedule gaps left by Kenny's absence.  Mary and the kids drove lots of miles back and forth and we are so grateful for her help during this season.  Divorce and co-parenting is hard and messy but Kenny and KayCee worked so hard to do right by their kids and it was a huge blessing that we were able to get through this challenging season working together.  KayCee took on a lot of extra load while Kenny was in Phoenix and I'm grateful for her grace through it all. 

Finally, at the beginning of April, Kenny made the list.  Foolishly, we thought getting on the list would be the hard part.  However, the hard part was just beginning.  When he was evaluated in January, we were told if he got put on the list immediately, he would be very near the top of the list (i.e., first in line for transplant).  Unfortunately, being in Phoenix allowed Mayo to take over Kenny's care and by April, they had gotten him much healthier.  Transplant (we learned way more about this whole process than anyone ever wants to) is based on a number of factors (location, symptoms, etc.) but a big part of it is your MELD score.  Even though Mayo would never be able to cure him without a transplant, he was doing so much better that his MELD score had dropped and now he wasn't as high on the list.  We felt stuck between a rock and a hard place.  How long could we keep him in Phoenix waiting?  Was God planning on just healing him miraculously without a transplant?  Did we jump the gun moving him?  We agonized over these questions and many more.  We decided we'd take any organ we got - high risk, Hep C, whatever we could get, we'd be grateful and trust God to manage the details.  Kenny put a special ring tone on his phone, Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" and we waited for a call.

On May 11, he finally got one.  He was a backup.  Even though we knew it was a long-shot, we were pretty bummed when it was a no-go, but we were so happy for the person that received the transplanted liver.  Kenny would end up getting 11 calls total  (a Mayo record) and 10 led to crushing disappointment.  Sometimes the organs went to other donors with greater need, so even though we were bummed, we could celebrate another life saved.  Others, however, were deemed "low quality" and were not used for transplant.  Sometimes the organs came from donors on life support who "did not progress" and therefore, the organs were not viable.  These calls were the hardest - it was devastating to us that someone had lost his or her life, had made the choice to be a savior for someone else, and for whatever reason, was unable to do that.  It felt so wasteful in light of our need (and the needs of many, many others). 

Ten times, we got a call and ended up not getting the transplant.  A few times I was with him in Phoenix, several times, I dropped everything and drove there, sometimes leaving work, sometimes leaving in the middle of the night.  My sweet sister even made the trip with me.  More than once Kenny made it all the way to the hospital, checked in, did bloodwork, got scrubbed clean, only to be discharged and sent home.  A couple times they even put him in a fancy heated gown and had him right outside the OR ready to go only to call everything off.  A few times the transplant team kept him overnight at the hospital because even before we knew what was going to happen with the organ we were waiting on, they had another organ lined up as a backup.  So many opportunities and we were grateful for each one...but I really can't express how hard it was to check out of the hospital and go home, or say goodbye again so I could make the drive back to New Mexico alone, after believing with all our hearts that the call had been "the one".

Most of you have heard about the miracle that came for us on July 8, 2019.  Most of you know the details about Kenny soaring through his surgery in 4 hours, getting out of bed and walking two days after the transplant, and getting discharged the Friday after his Monday transplant.  Many of you know how we spent 4 weeks in Phoenix while Kenny recovered and how great he did.  How grateful we were to be home in August.  How he went back to work in November right after his 4 month checkup.  How the doctors at the checkup told him he was a rockstar patient.  How he's on an incredibly low dose of anti-rejection drugs because Carl (the new liver, named after Kenny's real-life transplant mentor) is such a great fit.  Many of you know that hundreds of people helped us financially so that we won't be stuck in the pit of medical debt.  Many of you gave so generously to us and I can't say enough how grateful we will always be for your kindness.  Some of you have seen Kenny and witnessed for yourself what a miracle he is, how healthy he looks.  He has said over and over how good he feels and there is no telling how long he felt bad before he even knew he was sick.  I don't mean to go on and on about this (sorry, too late I suppose) and I don't want the liver transplant to be the whole story of our lives - I know God has bigger plans than that.

I'm not sure why I started writing this other than to stop and acknowledge what a difference a year has made.  There have been many milestones but for whatever reason, the day we heard Kenny needed a new liver to survive the next decade feels like the the start date for me.  To be where we are now, a year later, is nothing short of a miracle.  I know it seems like we throw that word around a lot, but we mean it wholeheartedly, in the most literal sense of the word.  We truly believe our lives have been filled with miracles - big ones and little ones.  Even the fact that we met, fell in love, and married when we did was a miracle.  I think our lives are probably always filled with miracles.  Perhaps we just did a better job of paying attention to them over the last year.

I will end this with a couple thoughts:

1. Is there something you've been putting off?  An apology?  A phone call? A doctor's appointment?  A life decision - big or small?  I'm so grateful we got serious about Kenny's health and went to Mayo when we did.  Can I encourage you right in this moment to do whatever it is you've been debating doing?

2. If you're not an organ donor, can I beg you to become one?  Seriously, I'm not asking, I'm begging.  I hope with all my heart you survive the next year and live a healthy, happy, very long life.  But in the event that you don't, you could literally save a life - more than one, really.  It could end up being the most amazing gift you give your entire life.  I have seen firsthand how hard doctors work to save people before organ donation even becomes an option, the lengths they go to in order to ensure the organs get used and are given to worthy recipients, and finally, the miracle that comes when an organ saves a life.  The way it changes not only the recipient's life, but also the lives of every person that knows and loves that person.  I get that we are all dying.  But when you donate life, you give someone more time with the people they love and you extend your own legacy.  That's a pretty miraculous thing to be a part of.  Here are a few tips on how to become an organ donor but the biggest thing is to let your loved ones know how important it is to you.  https://www.nolo.com/legal-encyclopedia/how-to-become-an-organ-donor.html

3. We would not have made it through this last year (or any of the others, to be honest) if we didn't have our faith.  We believe there is a God in heaven who loves us so much that he gave his only son to save us eternally - not just for the time we spend on this planet.  He is the single most important relationship in our lives.  He loves you, too.  I promise, He does.  He wants to be your best friend and all you have to do is let HIm.  If you don't know Jesus, you can.  This could be the greatest year of your life if you make that single choice.  If you have questions about how or why, Kenny and I would love to talk to you.  Reach out and we will do our best to point you in the right direction and we will pray for you and with you.  

Well...

This started out as a post about what a difference a year can make and has ended up being a novel.  That happens to me a lot.  The post got so long, I had to move from Facebook to this blog - which might inspire me to resurrect this old thing, so stay tuned for more random thoughts.  If I keep up my current pace, I'll post again sometime in 2023. 

If you've stayed with me this far, thank you.  I love you and I pray this is your best year ever.

10 years closer

WRITTEN JULY 1, 2017

Ten years ago today I received an early morning phone call that changed the world forever...for me and for so many others.  My precious friend that shared my name was gone from this earth.  She left behind two beautiful and brilliant boys, an adoring father and a brokenhearted mother who lost her first born child, only daughter and very best friend in the whole world all in the same instant.  She also left behind countless people, myself included, that were forever changed by the intersection of their lives with hers.

***

I've only written about this once before, in my confidential law school admissions essay.  When asked why I wanted to go to law school, there were several reasons that aren't worth getting into today...but one of the reasons was her.  Her death and the horrific circumstances surrounding it were a small part of it but the larger part was how she lived her life...fully, embracing every opportunity, meeting every challenge and always changing and growing and somehow become more beautiful, more enchanting, more alive.  She was so many things to so many people but I will start with how I remember her best - as a girl.

We met in modeling classes when our mothers got to talking because we had the same name, right down to the spelling.  She was there because she was a model and a beauty queen and a gymnast.  I was there because my mom was trying to build my confidence and help me not to be so shy.  (I realize its a little hard to imagine now that I was shy to the point of needing a class but its true.)  She was stunningly beautiful - strangers would regularly approach to say so - but her beauty or poise or talents really didn't define her in her day-to-day life.  The little girl I knew was way more than any of that...she was mischievous and fun, silly and creative, daring and smart and funny and always up for adventure.  She came up with the best schemes and kept everyone around her - especially adults - on their toes.  She was fearless and bold and honest and genuine.  She was brave.  Even as a child, she knew who she was and was comfortable in her own skin.  You could dress her up in ruffles and sequins and put on crowns and makeup but she wasn't the least bit fake, not ever.  She loved the taste of baby lotion and those weird dot candies you pull off the paper to eat.  She loved games and swimming and trampolines.  Sometimes she and my sisters would team up against me.  The three of them were tall, tan and skinny with long blonde hair and could easily pass as triplets.  They had a club, sometimes, called the Fiesties.  The club's main objectives seemed to be coming up with money making schemes (like selling friendship bracelets at the pool) and tormenting me.  But often, it was the two of us.  Underaged and running around the casino at Circus Circus in Vegas.  Cracking open oysters to look for pearls and sneaking into the pool at the resort next door that had the slide in Hawaii.  Days spent in the sun and the water (where she was a natural fish who would bake to a lovely brown while I was awkward and splashing and would blister and peel).  Walking to the neighborhood playground.  Driving (and occasionally crashing) the cart at the racetrack.  That time she was so tired she starting using her bacon as a fork and we all laughed and laughed and laughed.  When she fell in gymnastics and hilariously showed off her bruise.  On stage.  In the Winner's Circle.  Waving from a convertible in the parade.  We made enough memories as kids to last a lifetime.  Looking back, I am especially grateful for that, knowing now how short our time together would be.

I didn't know her as well as an adult.  As often happens, we grew up and went in different directions.  Got busy.  Got sidetracked.  Our families always stayed in touch but I didn't keep in regular contact, something I will always regret.  But there are memories and smiles from the times I saw her - still so lovely and funny and bold and enchanting.  I will remember the moments we spent together forever.  Anyone who knew her - even for a moment - was eternally blessed to have crossed her path.  She was just special.  She was always beautiful and popular and moving from one adventure to another.  Whenever we got the opportunity to catch up, she would keep us rolling with laughter with her hilarious stories.  She was the kind of girl that lit up a room and when her warmth landed on you, it lingered long after she had left.  And even now, ten years after she left this world, that's still true.  Her light remains on those of us who were lucky enough to be touched by it.

***

I try to stay in better contact with her parents and her boys.  When I'm lucky enough to be around them, often they remind me so much of their mom it momentarily stops my heart.  Its beautiful and miraculous to see her live on so strongly through them.  But it doesn't completely remove the sting from losing her.  I still think about her often.  Every time I'm tempted to say something about getting old, I try to stop myself and be grateful for years to "get old" - years that were stolen from her.  When something is beautiful...or funny...or nostalgic, she pops into my head.  When I think about mothers...sisters...friends...I remember hers.  When my life is touched by any kind of loss, she's swept into the current of my sorrow and swirls around my heart and mind.

Her memory doesn't make me sad, though.  The loss of her does - it always will.  But the thought of her life and all it meant, even in its brevity...it inspires me, challenges me, makes me treasure my moments and my people more, reminds me to appreciate our short time here and our precious loved ones.

***

I've heard the pastor, Levi Lusko (who tragically lost is young daughter) talk about how he isn't farther away from her as time passes.  He explains that's because he will spend eternity with her, way longer than her all-too-brief time on earth.  With every day that passes, he is drawing closer to her.  Every time I hear him preach, I think about my friend because I know the same is true for us.  We don't get farther away from her as the months and years pass by - regardless of how it sometimes feels.  The truth is, we are always moving toward eternity...where she is now, more alive than ever.  And so today, I don't mark the anniversary of the day she was stolen from us...I celebrate the knowledge that one day I will see her again...and this day, I'm just ten years closer.

SWJ

a life well-lived

Last Saturday night I had the great privilege of witnessing something spectacular.  On a high school football field in a tiny little town in southern New Mexico, under twilight skies and stadium lights, more than a thousand people* gathered to say goodbye.  They cried together, laughed together and spent a couple hours remembering two young men who used a relatively brief time on earth to make an extraordinary impact.  The event that triggered our gathering was a devastating tragedy, but, somehow, Saturday night was not a melancholy occasion.  On the contrary, it was a celebration.  A tribute to two well-lived lives.  A glimpse into the incredible impact a person can have on the people and the world around him.

One of the young men remembered was my friend.  The other young man was my friend's oldest son.  The people who spoke described loving, charming, honorable men who shared their joy and smiles and fun and many gifts with those around them.  I knew some of the stories...others I heard for the first time.  I'd only met the son once or twice in passing when he was a little boy, but it was clear from all accounts that he was a special guy - wise for his age, fun and funny and smart and hardworking.  Two remarkable people who forever changed the world around them simply by being the best versions of themselves.

***

I have to admit, when I first heard the news of their passing, my first thought was why.  Why would God allow this?  Why did this family have to suffer another loss?  Why do bad things happen to such good people?  Because of my faith, I truly believe to the depths of my soul that everything happens for a reason and that God works all things for good...but when something like this happens...I have to admit that I struggle...because I just don't understand.  And the truth is, I will probably never understand this.  But after Saturday night, my whys are a little different.  Why was I so blessed to get to share in these lives?  Why was God so kind to me to put my friend in my life?  Why did I get the privilege of witnessing this amazing outpouring of love and community?  And while I still don't understand, I'm so incredibly thankful.  Since that night, my heart has been overflowing with gratitude...for the memories I have with my friend...for the fact that his life touched mine...for the beautiful community we share.

When I left the field Saturday night, after hugging friends from a lifetime ago and crying with family and witnessing the very best this world has to offer in the love and faith and community and kindness being poured out in front of all of us, I felt an overwhelming peace and appreciation for the life I've been given.  Growing up in a wonderful community, having a loving family, making friends and memories that have lasted a lifetime...I've been so incredibly blessed.  It got me thinking about the legacy I want to leave when my days on this planet are over.  How do I want to be remembered?

One thing that stood out to me after the service was all of the things that people didn't talk about.  My friend was wildly successful and very generous with benefits that came from those successes - but that's not what people remember about him.  My friend was charming and smart and persuasive (a mover and shaker, if you will) and he had a knack for connecting with all kinds of people - and while that may have drawn people to him, that's not why they loved him.  By all accounts, my friend's son shared many of his father's gifts and talents - but that wasn't what brought hundreds of his peers to the field that night.  It can't really be boiled down into a single word or thought but the thing I heard over and over on Saturday night was how much my friend and his son invested in the people around them.  They poured out their time and love and energy and resources in service to others.  They gave themselves.

"God has given each of you a gift from his great variety of spiritual gifts. Use them well to serve one another."  1 Peter 4:10 (NLT).

***

I began writing this post with the words: "if I die young..."  I quickly realized, however, there are a few problems with that title.  First, "if" is a bit optimistic.  I think the odds on me eventually passing away are roughly 100%.  Second, if I die "young" is a little naive given my current...maturity.  Still, "if I die rapidly approaching middle age," while more accurate, doesn't really have the same ring to it.  But I digress...  The real question I'm asking myself is: What do I want my life on this earth to mean? 

I want people to know that I loved them - those closest to me and those who barely knew me.  I want everyone that crossed my path to feel like they mattered...that the were special and significant.  I want people to have good memories of me - times I made them laugh or feel valued, moments I encouraged them or strengthened them or made their lives a little bit easier.  I want to have pointed people toward Jesus - not because I was holy (pause for laughter) but because I really tried to rely on Him and did my best to love and forgive and comfort like He loved and forgave and comforted me.  I want people that asked me to pray to know that I really did pray for them.  I know I won't be everyone's cup of tea (heck, some people are just coffee people), but I'd love it if even the people that didn't like me all that much remembered me as kind...or generous...or good for a laugh (with me or at me, whatever the case may be).  I want my family and closest friends - who witnessed my very worst moments - to know, despite my many (MANY) flaws, that I loved them with all my heart and that I appreciated them and that my world was better because they were in it.   

So how do I get there?  What does that mean for today's agenda?  How does that picture of my life compare with my current priorities?  There's not one word about being awesome in my career or living debt-free or reaching my goal weight.  I don't picture my memorial service and imagine someone standing up to say how amazingly buff my arms were or that my 401k was really well funded.  So why am I spending so much of my time and energy and resources on things that I know in my heart are not the things that really matter to me?  More importantly, why am I NOT spending my time and energy and resources on things that I realize do matter:

RELATIONSHIPS.  PEOPLE.  ONE ANOTHER.

"Above all, love one another deeply..."

It's eye-opening and convicting and inspiring for me to realize how out of whack my priorities can get.  Not that being financially responsible or good at my job or healthy are bad goals - they're not bad goals at all.  They just aren't the kind of goals worth spending a life on.  If I'm going to pour out my time and energy and resources (and I am - we all are - one way or another), then I want to pour those precious and limited gifts somewhere they have the potential to make an impact.

***

That's the word that has been stuck in my head since Saturday night: IMPACT.

My friend's life made an impact.  His son's life made an impact.

I know his family and friends will continue making an impact.

So now, his life and the life of his son, are not only my reminder - of the impact he had on me - but also my encouragement and inspiration to do better...to think about what really matters and how I'm spending my one and only life...to prioritize relationships...to give...and serve...and invest...to LOVE...and, hopefully, to make an impact too.

Thank you, my friend.  You've raised the bar for us all.
xoxo

***

*The size of the crowd is significant, but not only for the obvious reasons.  To really grasp its larger implications, you need a little background information.  In about an area of about 150 square miles, there are a handful of communities with a total population of roughly 10,500 people (give or take).  TEN PERCENT of the area's population came out to remember my friend and his son.  That's impact.