Close Call.

If you know me, you've probably heard the story by now. Or at least pieces of it.

If you don't "know" me, you probably have no idea. And as many times as I've relived this story, it never stops getting to me. So, to kinda explain my most recent absence from blogland, I'm reliving it again. But mainly to tell you about the healing power of a magnificent God.

I recently lost almost 90 pounds. Pretty big accomplishment, and I'm pretty stinkin' happy about it. However, what no one tells you (or rather, what I didn't want to hear) is that rapid weight loss can cause gallbladder issues. So, off and on for the last six months or so, any time I would eat a greasier meal than usual, I would have stomach and back pain. I'm a quasi-nurse kind of mom, and I've known enough to diagnose myself with gallstones.

I had no idea they were going to wreak the havoc they ended up wreaking.

On Valentine's Day, we went for wings as a family, as we do every single Monday night. I went home, and my stomach was hurting mildly. I finally went to sleep and woke up at 4:00 am with pain that was becoming more and more uncomfortable. When it was time to get Abi up for school, I couldn't move. Rod got her dressed, took her to school, and came back to find my condition deteriorating rapidly. (I'm not being overly dramatic... it really was bad.) All day, I lay in bed, pain intensifying, nausea building, and so my sweet husband comes home with the ingredients to begin a gallbladder flush for me. The first step was eating boiled potatoes. I did.

Then it ALL fell apart.

I am going to spare you the not-so-lovely details of what happened next. But, suffice it to say, it was ugly and it involved a toilet and a girl on her knees. Yall, I was wishing for childbirth. Labor. A house to fall on my head. ANY pain but this pain.

At 4:00 pm, Rodrick brings Abi home. I am weeping in the fetal position in bed. My calm-as-can-be husband takes one look at me and says, "Get dressed. We're going to the hospital. Now." I will also spare you the details of the next few minutes, which involved many tears and pleading.

So, there I was. Always healthy, rarely even sick with a cold, NEVER been a patient in an emergency room in my life- sitting in triage. Then on a ER cot, IV line in place. Ultrasounds. CT scans. Endless amounts of bloodwork. The diagnosis- pancreatitis and a gallbladder four times the size it should have been. Liver enzymes and pancreatic enzymes through the roof. White blood cells elevated. Not going home for 4-5 days.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?

I pouted. I cried. I bargained. I begged.

But I wasn't leaving, and that was certain.

See, this wouldn't have been as big of a deal, but most of you know, I'm on pastoral staff at our church. A week later, we were having our biggest, most anticipated event of the year- a three day ministers' conference, where men and women literally come from all over the world to attend. I would have a house FULL of people for the week, and I was scheduled to lead worship for our band (which is an awesome rock band... not the typical church band, I promise. We're tattooed, pierced, gauged ears, etc.). This was the absolute WORST time to have a health crisis. Seriously. The worst.

All week, I was in that hospital. You name the test and I had it done. They starved me for a few days, as my pancreas had to rest to heal. Then came the great news (sarcasm) that I would not be leaving unless my gallbladder was removed, and it had to be done within the next two days. (More tears and fit pitching ensued). So, Friday, February 18, my gallbladder was removed, full of stones and severely inflamed.

I got home on Saturday. On Sunday, my family talked to a family friend who is an ICU nurse, and she couldn't believe how incredibly close I was to developing sepsis with the enzymes out of control like they were. In fact, she couldn't believe I was not admitted into ICU upon my arrival.

This knowledge hit me like a ton of bricks.

Here's the deal. Every day, we are a day closer to eternity. Every breath a breath we won't retrieve. But to actually know you were possibly headed for Heaven? Well, it's sobering to say the least.

I've had alot of time to ponder in the last few weeks. I got the flu while I was healing (not recommended), and spent much time in my recliner, coughing and thinking, thinking and coughing. And I've settled on three things that I know for sure.

1. Nothing matters to me as much as my family. NOTHING. Those guys pulled me through the scariest days of my life.

2. Very few things really, really matter.

3. God is able to undo great damage, even damage caused by our own hard headedness and stupidity.

I'd like to say I grew a new gallbladder and walked out with all my organs intact. I didn't. But I walked out. And I cannot praise God enough for medical science. For doctors and nurses and technicians who were Jesus with skin on to me while I was injured and frail. Healing is healing, regardless how it comes- and anyone who tells you otherwise has never been sick enough to see this truth.

Oh, and that conference? I led worship the whole time, had 7 people in my house, and crashed like a beast after it was over. That week, I was proof the grace of God is real.

Who needs their gallbladder anyway? Geesh!

It's ALLLLL About This Girl.

Seven years ago right now, this was me.



It was not a pretty sight.

But let me tell ya. After 6 LONG years of wanting, praying, waiting, hoping, doubting, and trusting, I was about to burst with child and my heart was happy as a pig in the mud (tho my body felt like it was at the gates of hell). Then, on February 11, 2004- this moment came.



I blinked my eye, and this moment was here.



Then, I turned around, and here's what was there.



One day, I blinked a little too long, and this was in front of me.



And I swear to you, while I was sleeping one night, this day snuck up on me.



There have been other magical days, sure. Like this one.



This one....



This one....




And this one.



I have no idea where seven years have gone. But three things I do know.

It has flown.
It's been a delight.
I'm glad I'm her mom.

Thank you, Lord, that seven years ago, I ushered your promise into this world, kicking and screaming. (She was screaming, too). May I raise her to serve you, to love you, to honor you- in all she endeavors. I pray she takes risks when she should, plays it safe when it's best, and challenges the world around her every day. Let her life be a testament to your graciousness and favor. Help her to season her words with salt and always remember to apologize when she fails at that. Thank you for her sweet nose that I kiss every day. Thank you for the freckles you have dotted her beauty with. Thank you for the red streak that shows in the back of her hair in summer sunshine. Thank you for the perfect lips she wears, which smile endlessly- may they cherish the kiss of her husband for many years. I'm so glad you made her hands so beautifully... May they have plenty of babies to hold when her time comes. Thank you for her brassiness- May she always hold strongly to her opinion, even if she's the only one who has it. But mostly, Lord, thank you for her heart. May it always beat with compassion for the underdog the way it does now. May it know how it feels to be warmed by your healing touch after it breaks with sadness. May it burn with passion for the souls around her who so desperately need you.

And may she always find her way home. 'Cause that's where I'll be.

I love you, Abigail Ruth Elaine. Every breath. Until I leave this world. And even then.

Love, Mom.

You want some SKIN?

Just when you think you've been shocked by liberal media advancements toward our children. Just when you think we've danced as close to the line as is humanly possible. Just when you think your jaw could not drop any further without touching the ground...

MTV tops itself again.

First of all, let me say to all teenagers who will read this and think, "Thanks alot, Jill. You made my life infinitely harder after my parents read your blog." You're welcome.

I remember the early days of MTV. Conservative parents everywhere were freaking out (mine included) because now their children would be exposed to the likes of Madonna (when she wasn't so Maddona-ish yet), Michael Jackson (when he was still the color he was when he was born), and rock stars with purple hair and neon guitars. I had better not even THOUGHT about trying to sneak a peek every now and then because somehow, my parents would find out, and let me tell you... it would not be pretty for me.

But I recently have come to realize that it wasn't so much what was on MTV then that bothered them. My parents knew where it was headed down the road. Fast forward to today.

Part of the intention of this blog is to expose you, as parents, to what's in front of your children. I spend hours (and I do mean HOURS) reading articles, watching videos, listening to music, reading reviews, etc., so I can stay informed, for my kids and yours. See, I don't want to be caught completely off guard, nor will I trust my children (or yours) to be up front about what's going on in their culture and world. So, imagine my reaction when my brother-in-law (who is a PHENOMENAL youth pastor) told me to investigate MTV's newest rage, the teenage-geared show called "Skins." The meaning of "skins" from urban dictionary is "parties usually involve large amounts of drugs, alcohol, sex and loud music. After the skins party, the guests usually wake up in somebody elses house/garden completely disorientated, naked and covered in puke/piss/blood."

I. Am. Angry.
I. Am. Shocked.
I. Am. Grieved.

Here's the deal in a nutshell. Skins is an hour long show about teenagers. Or at least what the world WANTS us to believe/see about teenagers.

That's not the problem.

The problem is, MTV has actually employed teenage actors to play their true-to-life roles. That's right. In Skins, you will see fifteen year old girls in NUDE sex scenes. NUDE. You'll hear sixteen year old boys DEMAND sexual favors of girls, in great detail. You'll see seventeen year old children making drug deals, popping pills, and committing grand theft auto.

And your kids are watching it.

See, MTV is clever. They are billing this as "true to life" and "just showing the world where teenagers really are." ARE YOU KIDDING ME? First of all, I know PLENTY of teenagers who aren't living like thugs and fools. In fact, the majority of them are not. Secondly, SHAME on MTV for using MINORS to play these roles. The definition of pornography is "The explicit depiction of sexual subject matter, especially with the sole intention of sexually exciting the viewer; The graphic, detailed, often gratuitous depiction of something." Bingo. Third, WHERE ARE THESE BABIES' PARENTS? (Let me at 'em). Fourth, just because it's on TV and not a pay-channel does NOT mean it is permissible in our homes! Just because it's "legal" for these children parade around in prostitution and drug-related scenes does NOT mean it's okay for my daughter to learn that she can or should allow boys to demand vulgar and explicit actions from her. Just because it's on "primetime" TV does NOT mean that I should allow my son to think it's ok to use the F-word whenever and however and to whomever he chooses, or describe girls' body parts as if they are objects found in a landfill. And just because "all the other kids" watch it CERTAINLY does not mean that MINE WILL.

I know, I know. Some of you are literally saying, "Well, you can't control every thing they watch." I agree. They go to school. They hang out with friends. But let me tell you this. I CAN CONTROL WHAT IS WATCHED IN MY HOUSE. Even if this means there is ONE TV, ONE computer, and ONE smartphone, and they are all in MY room, under lock and key! Furthermore, I can instill in my children a heart filled with self-respect and dignity, where they instinctively turn their eyes and their hearts away from filth when they are exposed to it. Don't tell me it can't be done. I can show you family after family who's children didn't fall into this trap. Families that I admire and look up to because they produced children who aren't perfect, but who soared above the traps of garbage that others fall in to.

Need more reason to understand why I am angry? Watch this. (you'll have to click on this link, as I couldn't post it to my blog.)

http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/controversal-mtv-skins-porn-teens/story?id=12728614


Has this given you a heads up? I hope so.

So, where to go from here? Be up front with your kids. Going in with guns blazing will cause a freakout and will be counterproductive. Sit down with them and ask them if they've seen it, and why they like this show. Ask them where their own moral compass is regarding these issues. Try to lead them to follow the chain of events to where these destructive lifestyles are headed. (Pregnancy, STD's, suicide, prison, minimum wage jobs for their whole life, poverty, etc.). Then, PULL THE PLUG. They don't have to like it, nor do they really have to even understand your reasons right now. That's the beauty of parenting. We have to protect them from themselves. And I know you're like me in the fact that you want your adult children to look back and now EXACTLY what you stood for.

And one more thing. I'm now a Taco Bell fan for life.

Yo quiero Taco Bell.

Where to begin?

How about here?



Or here?



Definitely here...



That's right, blog friends. My sister has had a baby boy! His name is Legend, and since day one, he's living up to his name. I had the privilege of being right at Lori's side as she ushered her heart into this world on January 3, which was three weeks before his expected arrival. When he came out, his cord was TIGHTLY wrapped around his tiny neck. He was purple and didn't make a sound. He struggled to breathe off and on for the first day or two, and was taken to a bigger hospital in Orlando, where he spent the next nine days. The verdict was that he had a paralyzed vocal cord on his right side, and a condition that alot of preemies have called SVT (his heart would run very high heart rates off and on). Thanks to a medical team that I cannot brag enough about and the power of a magnificent healing God, Legend has a heart that is perfectly healthy, and his cry is getting (MUCH) louder every day. He is the first boy in our family... first in four generations on my Mom's side... and we are over the moon about this little seven pound bundle of chewiness.

As I sit and hold Legend every day (my office is not even one minute from his house... the perfect lunch getaway), I cannot help but think of my own girl and wonder where in the HECK the time has gone. I reflect back on her early years, and I literally feel like I'm trying to see through a fog. The memories are blurred and I only see bits and pieces of time. I want to pin Lori and Seth to the wall and somehow force them to understand how quickly this tender phase of their lives will pass. But I know that even if I could, they won't get it until they go through it. Days of diaper changing, spit up, rocking, and worrying turn into weeks and months, which all add up to one magnificent adventure.

One of the ten million wonderful things about Legend being here is how his very existence has forced me to hold Abi a little closer... squeeze her a little tighter... bite her sweet cheeks a little more often. Her birthday is fast approaching, and for some reason, I cannot bring myself to say the word "seven" when asked how old she'll be. See, the fact is, she's not in little powder scented diapers anymore. She doesn't require me to rock her to sleep, though on the rare occasion she asks, I gladly oblige. She can wipe her own rear end, pick out her own clothes (haha), and get her seatbelt on without my assistance.

But she's still a baby. MY baby.

My baby, who still says things like, "Mom, I have so much fun with you." MY baby, who asks, "Will spiders crawl into my mouth while I sleep?" MY baby, who would eat pancakes 24/7 if allowed the chance. MY baby, who cries while watching Animal Planet. MY baby, who hasn't outgrown running to me when the bell rings and kissing me right in front of all her friends. MY baby who at her young age is already so hormonal, I think I'll lose my own sanity BEFORE she starts her period.

We ooh and aah over the tiny ones, the new ones... and understandably so. But Moms, Dads... we have babies that are tender, albeit sometimes hard to love, at seven, twelve, and seventeen.

Take a minute today and smooch on your baby. I'm already counting the hours until I chew on my girl when she gets out of school today.

But first, it's only an hour and a half until lunch. And this is where I'm headed.

Chatty Cathy!

Guess who got in trouble for talking in class yesterday?

Guess who took her rightful place in a long lineage of writing sentences for talking in class?

Guess whose teacher asked her to stop talking yet she still turned to her friend and finished her conversation... many times over throughout the day?

Guess who got a "C" for behavior?

Guess whose Mom wasn't happy?

This one right here. That's who.






She's cute, ain't she? Cute as a button. And chatty as a Chatty Cathy doll.

So, here's the deal. Is it a big deal that Abi talks alot? Probably not. She's kindhearted, thoughtful, tender, bubbly, and sweet. The quintessential girl. The poster child for sugar and spice. So I wasn't upset that she was chatting. But, as she always does, Abi told on herself and revealed more than she planned to, I'm sure.

ME- Abi, I saw you have a "C" in your agenda for today. Mrs. Farren said you had ants in your pants. What's the deal?
ABI- Well, Mrs. Farren kept telling me to be quiet and I would always be in the middle of talking to someone, and I didn't want to make them mad, so I'd keep talking to them anyway. But after I was done, I'd be quiet!
ME- So, let me get this straight. Mrs. Farren asked you to be quiet, but you ignored her and STILL kept talking?
ABI- Yes. I did that alot. Like, all day.
ME- Get some paper. You're going to write 50 times "I will not talk." NOW. And if this happens again, you will write a much longer sentence 100 times.
ABI- (mouth open in shock and horror)Mom, I didn't want to make Hannah or Christy mad!
ME- Who had you rather have mad at you... Hannah or ME?
ABI- Yes ma'am. (leaves the room).

After she left, I had to chuckle. I was SO that kid. Only without the sweet part. And with alot more bossiness. My sister was that kid. Only with a voice 10923432 times louder and a mean streak that scared most middle school boys away. My mom was that kid. My aunt was that kid. It was destined to happen. I'm okay with that. But the thing is, chatting and being disobedient are two totally different things. This was one of those moments I knew would define in Abi's mind that I expect her to follow Mrs. Farren's orders immediately, just as she would mine. After a long and tedious assignment, Abi declared she would never, ever do that again.

I chuckled again.

Because she will.

As we were walking down the stairs to go to bed, Abi said, "Mom, I tattle quite a bit."

My response? "That's a whole other set of sentences, my darling."

Girls. ;-)

Elves have invaded!!!!

So, let's just clear the air about my lack of blogging lately. I've been busy, I've been traveling, I've been lonely since my man has been in Africa for three weeks, I've been swamped, and I've been a slacker.

Moving on.

Christmas is a slight obsession of mine. Seriously. My recurring dream all year long is decorating my tree. I burn pine scented candles in May. I sing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" to Abi every single night all year. So, when Halloween gets here, I start salivating about getting down the boxes and boxes of Christmas from my attic. I'm the neurotic neighbor who decorates before Thanksgiving... yes I am. I love the lights. I love the smells. I love the shopping. I love the parties. I love the gifts. I L-O-V-E Santa. Love the cookies and milk. Love the carrots for the reindeer.

And this year, Ellie the Elf has invaded our house.

First of all, let me put a disclaimer out here. THIS IS NOT A FORUM TO DEBATE THE YES OR NO ON LETTING KIDS BELIEVE IN SANTA. Yes, I said that in all caps because I don't want to go there. This is what we do, and we have a blast with it. So, kindly understand that I'm not trying to persuade anyone to become a believer. :-)

Apparantly the newest craze is "Elf on a Shelf," which is a boxed set of a book and an elf. The elf comes to watch kids and make sure they're behaving for Santa, and while the kids are sleeping, the mischievous elf does something bizarre or funny for the kids to find when they wake up the following morning. He or she sits proudly on or nearby her mess. The rule is you're never supposed to touch the elf because she only comes to "life" at night when no one's watching.

I didn't like the elf that comes with the set, so I didn't buy the set. I bought this cute little creature, who is sold separately by the same company.



Anyway, last night (before I actually even bought the elf), I decided that it was time for a certain elf named Ellie to make a scene. So, mysteriously, there were Barbie dolls stuck all in the Christmas tree this morning. And when we went to get Abi's lunch out of the fridge, look what we found in there.....!!!



Abi went to school this morning with a smile on her face and high hopes that tonight, the elf will get into more trouble while she sleeps. It made our ride to school MUCH more enjoyable, as we speculated on what that elf could POSSIBLY want out of our refrigerator and how in the world did she manage to stuff every single Barbie into that tree herself! Abi laughed and laughed.

And I LOVED the twinkle in her sleepy eyes at 7:15 this morning as she shuffled clumsily through the house.

Yes, I know, I know. Christmas isn't really all about the hoopla. People all over the world celebrate this wonderful time of year without a single gift or flashing light. It's not about the trimmings and trappings...

But for those of us fortunate enough to be able to celebrate the way we choose, it sure is wonderful.

Ellie the Elf will become a part of our Christmases from now on. I love reading online at how families started this tradition when their kids were small and now their teenagers look forward to the elf's appearance even still. They might have outgrown the innocent belief in Santa's magic, but one thing we will never outgrow is the need for our parents' involvement in our holidays.

Moms and Dads, work your magic. Stir up some mischief with your little ones this holiday. I think I overheard Ellie saying tonight she's going to toilet paper the living room while Abi's asleep.

That girl is somethin' else! ;-)

Raising a New Awareness.

So, this summer, we went to Detroit to see my Aunt Kim and Uncle Hadi. Upon arriving, we went to the Greek district in downtown and ate dinner at a WONDERFUL Greek restaurant.

As we are driving in the downtown area, I am immediately struck in awe by how many homeless people are lining the streets, asking for money from passersby. Don't get me wrong. We have homeless people in Orlando... but this was unreal. They were at every other store front, dirty, tired, and looking for food or any amount of money they could gather. I know that this is an opportunity for Abi to see the world through new eyes.

I said, "Abi, see all these people standing around who aren't dressed very nicely? They don't have homes. They sleep on the sidewalks and streets, and they stand out here and ask for food and money from people. Some of them can't work, some of them WON'T work, and all of them are sad. But God loves these people, and so do we."

My uncle pulled the car in front of our restaurant to let us out. I get out and turn to get Abi. Her cheeks are bright red. I said, "What's wrong?" I will NEVER forget what she said.

"Mom, I feel like a jerk right now."

My heart was broken and at the same time warmed with gratitude for her words. I said, "What do you mean?" She said, "We're going in here to eat and that man is so hungry." My Aunt Kim immediately goes into her purse, gives Abi a dollar, and walks her over to the man to give it to him. The man turns to Abi, bends down, and says, "Thank you, little girl. God bless you."

We get into the foyer of the restaurant and Abi's smiling from ear to ear. "He said God bless you to me, Mom! He was so thankful he'll be able to eat!"

Later on that night, I had another small talk with Abi about the homeless people we saw. While I wanted her to see the people around her that are hurting and suffering every day, and while I want to expose her to the harsh reality that the world is not always happy and warm... I also have to expose her to the truth that we cannot save every person from their needs. I had to explain to her that while some people cannot find jobs, there are others who don't want jobs. I had to explain to her that some people don't want to be responsible, but there are many others who would give anything for the opportunity to fix their family a nice, hot meal.

See, Abi's a very tenderhearted child. She is giving, warm, and concerned for others. She is very much aware of the needs of the people around her and wants everyone to be at peace. Since her heart is bent toward generosity, it is MY job to make sure she knows that real love helps... but it doesn't always rescue and it CERTAINLY doesn't enable. While I want her to be a pillar of hope and refuge in this hurting world, I most assuredly don't want her to be a pushover.

So where does this come to? I have to teach her to rely on that still small voice in her heart... the Voice of all voices that abides in her every fiber. I have to guide her in listening to the Holy Spirit as He prompts her heart and leads her to give, and leads her to step away.

See, every day, there are opportunities around us to seize. God moments on the corners of our streets and sidewalks where He wants to meet our children and give them His eyes.

Are you looking?