the end of week five

The weather here has turned fully fall-ish and the golden hues remind me of home.  Yesterday was a chicken soup kind of day as the clouds overhead never fully released their contents, but instead misted down upon us hour by hour, with gusts of wind that reminded me of the Oregon coast.  Our bodies enjoyed the excuse to stay indoors and read books.  But even with tired and achy bodies, we are seeing glimpses of healing.

Our doctor does not expect to see changes in our symptoms for the first six weeks because it is the die-off period, the time in treatment when spirochete and bacterial elimination is occurring as Lyme loses the upper hand, and the bodies immune system grows stronger and stronger.  Already I have seen changes in Wyatt's face especially, as his eyes look less gaunt and the paleness of his face begins to fade.  Today, I was mentioning this to our doctor, and she asked Wyatt if he was feeling better.  He gave a tentative yes.  As she dug deeper and asked if he had more energy, his answer squeezed my heart.

He said, "I have bursts of energy.  More of them.  Like, before I would get a burst, but if I spent it, I would be sick all that day or the week.  Now I can spend my energy and I will be tired, but then I will get another burst.  I won't be sick."  

My heart literally hurt and I could not stop the tears at hearing this from his mouth, him so simply framing the reality of his life for the past few years...things I have tried to put into words.  He has fought hard against even admitting to himself that he gets sick after spending his energy, stubbornly trying to prove himself well and push past all the pain and exhaustion...and here he is, able to fully acknowledge the limitations his body has had because now he can see the difference; like pops of sunshine through the clouds after a long stormy season, forgetting what the sun looked like.  Hearing him talk about energy as a commodity the way we adults understand time and money as a commodity made my heart cry.  These are things a child should not need to know about. But he does.  He has had to manage his energy like precious drops out of a mostly empty bottle.

This is a window into the world of so many parents who watch their child struggle with chronic illness.  The inner wave of panic never really leaves as you struggle through doctors appointments and hold back false hope that rises every time you think you may have the answer.  Antibiotics, herbals, tinctures, neurology appointments and doctor after doctor, all the while mourning an immune system that seems to be losing the fight as said child is in the pediatric office week after week from one virus or another, bacterial infections, lab work-ups and random issues.  It is my greatest hope and prayer that we go home to a new reality and a fresh start.

Eli and Ben are both very tired but have bursts of energy as well.  Symptoms still make us sick but there are wonderful glimmers of hope!  Most days are full days which is good.  We go to treatment for three plus hours four days a week, fill prescriptions, grocery shop (another post for another day...), cook three meals a day from home (holler out to all my home-school friends who cook ALL DAY LONG!) and always swallow so.much.medicine.  Mostly it is natural medicine that works in conjunction with our doctors protocol to heal the gut, get rid of bacteria and establish balance in our body.

Today was a great day, and after treatment we all felt well enough to take the long way home, through a local park.  The sun was out and it was such a joy to buy the boys dairy-free sorbet as a splurge because it's Friday and we get to let our veins heal for two days.  (Ben informed me that he loves Fridays.)  After running about (like teenagers do at an empty child's park) we are now back at home resting.  Our bodies are tired again, but we know something is healing inside of us- I can truly see it!

This coming Monday is the start of week six and I can see the sun on the horizon, no matter what the weather is overhead.  God is so present and He is so good.  Our hearts could not be more grateful or humbled at where He has us right now.  We miss our family and loved ones but we are forging ahead!

Eli snapped this picture as unbidden tears fell from my eyes,
 opening a precious box from home.

#Brothers #InItTogether #TheyAreMoreBondedThanTheyKnow

Beautiful Schwabisch Hall

Bricks without Straw

It is chilling to read that Pharaoh was a slave-driving force that sounds very similar to the force that held the same people group captive thousands of years later during World War II.  Pharaoh made incessant demands on God's people and he made them work.  They were tasked with making bricks and Pharaoh put slave drivers over them.  So great was the Israelites suffering that they cried out to God for help.  Pharaoh even tried to kill their babies.  In all of this, the Israelites continued to multiply and stand up under the heavy load.  Yet upon request that they be allowed to travel three days journey into the desert to worship Yahweh, the request was denied and they were shamed for trying to escape working.  They were told they were lazy.  Work must be done.  WORK SETS YOU FREE is carved into heavy metal on the front gate at Dachau, one of the very first "work camps" that was opened before the war began.  How these words must have mocked them as they walked through the gates and into the enemies hands.

The enemy has always wanted to keep Gods' people in chains- captive- and tell us that we must work harder to be free.  He shames us and tells Gods precious people lies that cause grief and despair.  We become stuck in an endless cycle of trying to give ourselves our own freedom, a respite from the enemies onslaught of defeat.  But just like the day when time began, when we struggle for our own freedom the enemy entrenches us further; he drives a hard bargain.

Moses was tasked by God with the job of being His mouth to Pharaoh and the person He was going to use to bring freedom from the oppression His people were enduring.  Hope was on the horizon.  Yet when Moses asked Pharaoh to let them go into the desert to worship the Lord, Pharaoh refused, then proceeded to make the labor forced upon the Jews more severe.  He would no longer supply the straw that they used to make their bricks, yet the same quota of bricks must be met each day.  When the foremen could not succeed in this impossible task because the Israelites were "scattered all over Egypt to gather stubble to use for straw" they were beaten.  When they stood up for themselves to Pharaoh, he again accused Gods people of being lazy.  The choke-hold around their necks got tighter as he reiterated his demands: they would be given no straw, and the same daily quota must be met.  I imagine this must have been a bit like expecting construction to continue without any lumber mills.  The already almost impossible task of producing large quantities of bricks just became impossible.

How could God promise freedom for this people and yet all earthly signs point to even more hopeless defeat than before?  They told Moses, " Ever since I went to Pharaoh to speak in your name, he has brought trouble upon this people and you have not rescued your people at all."  Hopelessness.  Defeat.  And did you catch the accusation in their voice?  They had dared hope...but then sorrow crushed their hearts yet again.  How could they know that Gods ways are not their own?  How could they know that their eyes would see the mighty hand of God freeing them from impossible situations?  We know because we read ahead...but these were real people with real heartache and real battles they fought daily both physically and mentally.

Exodus 4:31 says "And when they heard that the LORD was concerned about them and had seen their misery, they bowed down and worshiped him."  What is it about the Lords great compassion for us that just undoes us?  And oh the struggle of human nature that doubts the Lords goodness when trial and tribulation overtake us...when we don't understand why the Lord would promise good but we just walk through life's storms.  We become like the Israelites stuck in captivity who don't realize that the LORD fights for us.  When we struggle in our own strength to overcome the enemy hold on our lives we forget that work is not what makes us free.  Our natural tendency to strive to become something that we can be in man's eyes, whether it be skillful or admired, powerful or be seen as good enough can become stumbling blocks as we stand in full view of the Lord.  He knows our hearts and He knows how we struggle...our God is a God of standards and He is Holy, but He is also a God of mercy.

There are battles in our life that we fight against an enemy just as real as the Pharaoh we read about in times past.  There is a war that rages for our soul, and a God who already paid the price to win it.  The enemy will always cause defeat and shame to rage unhindered in our souls... while the Lord beckons us to His side to find the forgiveness and quiet peace that only He can give.  Oh how He longs for His children to have freedom in Him and to be set free from the chains of sin that entangle.  This is the gospel message- this is the hope that is held out for us because He lived on this earth, died taking on the full dead weight of human sin of all mankind for all time, and then triumphed over the grave when he rose three days later.  This is our victory!  I hope with all my heart that if you are reading this, you know the Jesus who loves you and died to free you from your captors chains.  I hope that we who know and love Jesus as our Savior choose daily to throw off the chains and dare to walk forward in hope even when our hearts are broken and we cannot see how to walk forward in freedom...when trial overtakes us, when sin chokes us and when the enemies taunts are real enough to cause our hearts to tremble with fear.

Sometimes we wait...and wait for the Lords answer.  I don't believe that just because we are eternally saved that we will be saved from all life's trials.  Time and again we read in Scripture about hero's of the faith who went through heart-crushing times, and they had their own failures (big ones).  But time and again we see a heavenly story unfold and it tells the same tale of a God who sees, who loves, and who saves.  As the Israelites were fleeing Pharaoh and were trapped against the sea...no going forward and no going back...the Lord moved.

 "The Egyptians pursued them, and all Pharaoh's horses and chariots and horsemen followed them into the sea.  During the last watch of the night the LORD looked down from the pillar of fire and cloud at the Egyptian army and threw it into confusion.  He made the wheels of their chariots come off so that they had difficulty driving.  And the Egyptians said, "Let's get away from the Israelites!  The LORD is fighting for them against Egypt."  

Exodus 14:23-25

Our freedom comes when the LORD fights for us.  It makes me want to make sure I am striving for the LORDs battles, and not my own agenda.  It makes me grateful that through the struggle and when we are most in need, we see the Lords greatest miracles.  It makes me thankful that my God covers over all my sin, and loves me when I am most unlovable.  And he loves you, too.

"In your unfailing love you will lead the people you have redeemed.  In your strength you will guide them to your holy dwelling."  

Exodus 15:13

This is the song of Moses, recorded after the Lord threw the enemy army into confusion and then proceeded to part a wall of water, allowing the Israelite people to walk free to the other side. Tests of faith were still to come for the Israelites but they had a God who was fighting for them.  And He fights for us too.  His love is unfailing and He is faithful to lead us, His people.  He is a God of eternity who has always faithfully walked among His people and is still moving among us today, reminding us of stories just like this one to give us faith when our hearts doubt.  He is good.  He sees. and best of all- He redeems.

A peek into week four and more

Here we are approaching week four of treatment.  I struggle with knowing what to write; there are so many thoughts and emotions that compete for attention in my heart.  I am not sure I can share completely; some things are too hard for a mommy to explain.  I debate internally regarding what I should write and how much of our journey my children want in the public eye.  They don't want to be sick- they don't want to be those kids with Lyme.  These are the reasons why this post has been belabored mentally and somewhat dreaded.  I want to only share the fun things.  I would rather not be real, and just stick to the surface details - the ones that are not vulnerable to speculation and the ones that can be picked at without my heart being affected.  But that is not this journey, and after much prayer I have decided that it is not what the Lord has called me to.  So I have decided I will write truth.  Not a reckless dialogue of emotions...but a vulnerable picture into our world.

Lyme Disease is becoming more of a topic in southern Oregon, our home state.  What was not talked about ten years ago (at least I didn't hear of it) has become a frustrating and sometimes divisive topic among the community and everyone seems to know someone who has been recently diagnosed with it.  Opinions and suspicious questions abound as we all try to grapple with the idea of Lyme Disease and the shock (and denial) that our home town would be a breeding ground for it.  I really didn't believe it myself until out of exasperation I agreed to take a test.  The reality of seeing the test come back showing I was positive for borrelia spirochetes in my body cannot be expressed in words, having seen the devastating effects of it in my nephew.  When did I get it?  I don't know.  Was it one of the many ticks I pulled off myself after a full day of running through my childhood fields and climbing trees?  Back in that day, they were no more alarming than a really creepy fly (that happened to be attached) and taking one off was not worth the mention.  Times have changed and ignorance is not a luxury any more.  Knowing that I more than likely passed it to my children has been devastating and angering to my heart.  Watching my child suffer through seizures that wrack his body in pain and tears my heart apart with panic that makes it almost explode...no diagnosis available from multiple specialists...yet I have read many of the same stories like ours.  Parents watching their children be sick and seize from an unnamed disease until finally, one doctor says..."You know, I just want to do one test, to rule out Lyme Disease..." Seizures are the most devastating symptom in our family, but it is definitely not the only one.

So here we are, after my children have been up and down the freeway seeing multiple pediatric specialists for neurological disorders, endocrine disorders and working with a doctor in Portland to lower the spirochete load in their bodies after all three tested positive.  Just to be sure, we tested three times, three different tests, none covered by insurance.  We weren't looking for this to be our story.

We are here because of the success rate with this doctor.  We have heard (and seen) story after story of people who come terribly sick...some with feeding tubes, in wheelchairs and cognitively incapable of much.  This is the truth of the what Lyme can do unhindered in the human body, when the immune system can no longer hold back the tidal wave of spirochetes.  My children came sick but not near as sick as many others.  I have had the blessing of meeting a handful in the past and even several in the past week who have been healed and made Germany home.

My sis-in-law, Stephanie, Adrianna (click here for Adrianna's Lyme Fight) and I

Our days are full here.  We have treatment four days a week with a break on Wednesday.  We eat a diet for gut health and intestinal healing which has included personalized food intolerance tests. This test dials in what foods your body is testing sensitive to and causing inflammation.  Full disclosure mom moment here: I love eggs.  I cook eggs when it's dinner time and I have no plan - all the sudden it become breakfast for dinner!  Its protein and I am a serious protein fan.  I have cooked eggs so much my kids get sick of eggs.  I hard boil eggs, throw them in lunches (my kids love me for that), eat them with avocados on toast and quiche is one of my favorite dishes.  So imagine my laughter when one of the highest rated food sensitivities for ALL OF US came back as EGGS!  And imagine Levi's delight when he realized he would no longer have to contend with unrefrigerated eggs here!  God makes us LAUGH.  So, we are off of eggs.  Also, no dairy or wheat.  Along with a handful of other really normal food that we will abstain from for five weeks.  Gut health, baby!

We started feeling the effects of Lyme die-off around week two.  Knees that were achy now felt like they may break.  Feet felt like lead weights and our legs were sure they had been lifting heavy furniture all day and were about to give out at the next step.  Pain is a familiar companion and all the worst of the Lyme symptoms seem to flare as they put up a fight to survive.  My oldest and I have symptoms that track most similarly and my younger two have been holding up better than I expected.  They sleep and rest then get up and GO.  A favorite has been the freedom they have to walk down to the toy store and buy silly trinkets or just have the joy of looking and dreaming.  This I am happy to give them, as I look at tired veins that will be found again the next day.

This part is the hardest for my heart to contain as I watch their faces day after day hold out their arm for another IV.  Their bravery humbles my heart and I hold back tears at the raw parts of life they are experiencing at such a young age.  It is such a mixture of sorrow and thanks...that God made this possible...that they may be able to run and play day in and day out like their friends do.  That there will be no more headaches on the couch with blankets over their eyes and frantic parents looking for ibuprofen wondering how much worse it should get before we go in....to know that they can make it to a full day of school without falling asleep the second they get home for the rest of the night.  We look toward the day when the calendar is not a mess of doctor appointments and weekend trips to the specialists...to not watch their bodies struggle through a sport or struggle through a friends birthday party, head swimming with exhaustion and whispering in my ear that they are sick and need to go home, then tears on the way home because they are sick while their friends get to play.  To not have to measure out their days according to how much energy they can expend, knowing the next day will have to be a rest day...to know that they will not pass this disease on to their wife some day (yes, it is transmitted that way) and then watch their own children suffer the effects of it....this is why we are here.  And God is holding us so tight.

This season is such an interesting one.  I feel my heart stretched so tight like a rubber band that might break, but always there is a silent peace and even joy deep beneath the surface that holds me steady.  We have been able to drive places while Levi is here and drink in the beauty and history that is a steady normal here.  We are not a perfect family and our neighbors in the next apartment probably think we are loud.  I have made the kids wash each others feet on more than one occasion for a random "you're a dirt bag" comment made to another brother, lol.  And I probably owe them a few feet washing gigs too. But all-in-all, this has been precious to be together, even in the short spans of time that Levi is here. I can feel God knitting our imperfect hearts together in eternal ways and providing laughter daily.

One of my favorite verses is below.  I love that our God is compassionate and sees his little lambs that need His arm of protection.  I am so thankful for the God He is.

Isaiah 40:11

He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.  

Facts and Funnies

Heidelberg Castle

We have been living in Germany for ten days now and we are beginning to get a steady "normal" in our new home for the next three months.  It is Sunday and our first real week of treatment will begin tomorrow.  We have seen some beautiful sights and some amazing places; Heidelburg Castle, Dachau concentration camp, countless little towns and vast fields of grass and produce.  The area around us is rich in farmland and it warms my heart to often see a green tractor on the road, outfitted with plows and harvester fittings.  Trees are heavy with apples and we buy many at the farmers market.  The weather was still in the mid 80's when we got here and the fall finally came upon us three days ago.  As we go through treatment, we will watch green trees turn vibrant colors, and welcome in the chill of winter.

For this post, I am just going to share a few funnies and facts about Germany and what we have learned so far!

-When you get on the autobahn you DRIVE. Nothing else. No phone. No distractions.  There is no time, aside from it being illegal.  I drive a comfortable 160 kmh (which translates to 99.41 mph), yet all manner of cars will pass me on the left with a wind that draws your car toward their lane.   Sometimes you hear a loud rumble as a Porsche flies past, or sometimes it's a humble little VW or Audi that puts us to shame.  People don't lane hog and road construction creates narrow strips of road that would be a one-way in America.  Gripping the steering wheel is common.  Tunnels are not uncommon in our area and every car slows down to go through them.  In America, signs warning of lane merging due to construction gives ample and sometimes redundant warning - here, you see it once and you are moving over.  They are serious. And I kind of like it.  On the autobahn- we drive, baby.

-Road lights are different here. Like a road racer, there is a "get set" light (green and yellow light together) before there is a green light.  Presumably it allows drivers time to shift into first (manuals are most popular), but also allows the car to start again.  Most cars here are very efficient and shut down upon stopping, restarting as your foot releases the brake like an electric car.

-They do not refrigerate their eggs.  If anyone knows Levi, you would know how much of a problem this is for him.  While I find it delightfully "farm-ish" that they buy local eggs from local chickens and set them on shelves in cardboard boxes with some feathers still attached...Levi finds it appalling.  He is thankful for refrigerators, does not love left-overs and for heavens sake, will not eat at potlucks.  Food poisoning is on his top three list of most terrifying life events.  I laugh, he tries not to think about it.  I don't think he has knowingly eaten anything with eggs in it yet.  

-Architecture is a stunning contrast of clean lines, sharp sillouettes against the sky and intricate detail.  Cathedrals competed during the building years to stretch higher than the next.  Houses built upon hills seem all the higher with their immense height soaring into the sky, window upon window tall.  Timbers make straight lines between stucco and stone.  Buildings from thousands of years ago are not only standing and inhabited, but still cause people to stare in admiration at the design.  It is a sight for the soul, especially Schwabish Hall, set against the backdrop of hills, a small river, quaint bridges and trees.  I stare often at the buildings and never tire of it.  Doors with their gothic steel detail are my favorite.  I wonder at the creators of it, most of whom must have been very inspired by artists past.  And that's the heart of what I am trying to explain...the buildings here are art and you walk through a canvas of it every day.

-People have community here.  Levi and I noticed far more conversations at coffee shops, in parks, on the street in groups and individually than what we would typically expect.  It was a rare occasion to see someones head buried in a phone.  I have been inspired to take more time to just "be" with others, aside from the busyness of life.

-People walk.  For groceries, for their piano lessons, to the butcher, the dry cleaners.  They carry bags or roll them behind filled with produce and such.  People ride; trails up and down small country roads are dispersed with walkers and bikers as people exercise to get to their destination.  These trails just beg to be run on.  But I don't see runners.  The few runs I went on I felt like people wondered why I was running...like maybe they all don't need to run? LOL.  I do.  I went off my gluten-free diet to indulge in chocolate stuffed croissants.  They are as decadent as they sound and all the walking in the world is not enough to compensate.  But so worth it. (Back on the gluten free diet as we speak...yay.)

-I am still so grateful for America.  There is beauty here that is unmatched by anything I have seen before.  It is not a wild beauty like many parts of the states but I love this place, aside from the reason why we are here.  I never expected to be a mother needing to seek medical care outside the United States and I hope with all my heart that something changes in the states to make this kind of treatment possible.  To date, the treatment we are seeking here is still not offered in it's entirety stateside, and beyond that, this doctor has the best success rates to eliminate Lyme Spirochetes (with longevity) that we have found.  I will always be grateful for this place and this path God has provided, even though it's not what I would have chosen out of 100 other multiple choice options.  I know God will use this and we are only at the beginning. We are done with our drives in the countryside, as treatment begins in it's entirety tomorrow and rest will be of necessity. The start of treatment typically brings hard days but we are prepared and have our eyes set on the goal.

-Cheers and as Germans would say with a smile, "Ciao!"

Wyatt's dreams of buying a ukulele came true. 

And who doesn't love a giant pretzel? 

(They are going back on their gluten free diet too...)

There is beauty in the simplest of things.

And so it begins

Our journey begins.  With hilarity, some desperation and definitely without fanfare or polish!  We are just a crazy American family, getting our land legs in Germany. 

We landed in Frankfurt around midnight Pacific time, 9 am Germany time.  The flight was pretty easy and we went through customs with ease.  Our bags were the very first ones at baggage claim, due to the fact that they barely made it on the plane because we barely made it on the plane after our delayed flight out of MFR. 

Off to the rental car, which Levi got a great deal on.  It was claimed that a volvo SUV size car could hold five luggages.  Woohoo!  Sounds awesome, but I was skeptical and wondered if we should just rent a van…?  Levi, being the trusting soul he is, did not entertain the idea and so we solidly planned on this great priced volvo carrying us and our fifty pound each rolling luggage plus five carry-on’s to our destination in Schwabish Hall.  As it turns out, there must have been some fine print detail that stated it could carry five large luggages…minus the three children in the back seat.    I may have muttered some things under my breath as I stood watching Levi sweating in the parking garage, it being far too hot for the Germany I remember, him fully hoping and planning on fitting the next two suitcases in when three allowed the car back to barely close upon full force shutting the door.  (insert unrestrained laugher) I love him for so many reasons, but one being…he just does not get flustered.  Sweating profusely, he calmly walked to the car rental agent and asked for a van.  God smiled down on us and we got it for no extra cost, even though the rental should have been twice as much.  I think maybe they were just all done with us and tried to shove us out as quickly and painlessly as possible, to which we were in complete agreement.  Needless to say, we smashed our stuff in, got the GPS loaded and were content with some peaceful silence on the way to our destination while Eli, Wyatt and Ben slept in the back seat. 

The drive got prettier the closer we got to Schwabish Hall.  We passed fields and mountains and trees that reminded me of home.  It is comforting to be in a town with so much country around it. I was here two years ago and remembered which street to turn down to get to a parking garage, as we had to walk the rest of the short ways to our destination.  We unloaded luggages, tired kids and bags and got a tour of our apartment.  It is an amazing place for its beauty and historical significance.  And it is more space than I expected or could have hoped for!

As God would have it, I am able to walk through the very same doors that I walked through two years ago when I came to visit Stephanie with Ryan for treatment.  Our house here has four stories, and the apartment we are renting is on the second level.  The bottom level used to be a horse carriage barn and the very top level is the place I stayed at two years ago.  The gift of familiarity is profound.  Leaving home and all that I know has felt akin to walking off a cliff…in so many ways.  The peace from the Lord is with me, yes, but visiting Germany briefly is so different than bringing your kids to treatment in Germany and knowing you will live there three months, holding down the fort mostly alone.  God has allowed time and again His kind confirmation upon our shoulders as time and again He opened doors that only He could.  His stamp is solidly upon this journey and that knowledge brings peace to my soul, even in the midst of fear.

Before leaving the house, I got on my knees and confessed my fears…over watching the boys go through excruciating treatment day after day- over the little things like finding groceries in German language and knowing what to do in split second decision making without Levi’s help when he is stateside.  I somehow worried that as I went, that God would not be here…It sounds so silly but like I said, it felt like walking off a cliff.  There was so much unknown and so much I couldn’t emotionally fully process.  I prayed out loud that God would remind me that He is a God of the universe, and of course He would go with me! 

It is early morning here and I sit and look at the four walls around me…I have wondered more than once who lived here years past and what their stories looked like.  I love history because it is full of real lives, journeys and life that was lived.  I wondered at the families and the ups and downs that life took them through.  I wondered who had lived within these four walls that loved my Jesus and what their trials looked like.  I thought about the era of knighthood, Kings, Queens and peasants.  Yes, this building is that old, built in the 1300’s.  I thought about the reformation age and protestants.  I thought about who in this house walked just steps away to the massive cathedral that lights up the town square, ringing bells and welcoming the community to gather.  Who lived here during World War II, watching soldiers drive through cobbled streets and seeing Jewish neighbors disappear?  There is a historical Jewish prayer house just two doors down…what must the eyes have seen that resided within these four walls?  It helps put our story into perspective.  It helps this mommy heart to remember that God truly is faithful throughout generations of history, through times of joy and sorrow.  As we walk this road, it is mingled with trial and yet…yes, joy.  It is a strange mixture of intense gratefulness that healing is ahead for my boys, yet guilt at what they will have to go through to get there. 

As our family sat at the very top of stone steps leading to the cathedral, our landlord told us of the protestant chapel.  In the reformation era, many catholic cathedrals were getting emptied and laid barren in an effort to seek Christ aside from catholic rule.  The cathedral in Schwabish Hall is one of the more historically accurate ones, helped in part years later because a man by the name of Dietrich Boenhoffer who pastored here.  Levi and I were both taken aback, because we know of this mans’ story and his writings. 

Dietrich Boenhoffer taught that it was okay to leave the art…that it wasn’t about the building, it was about the heart. At the age of 21 he had graduated from the University of Berlin and by 1937 he had written The Cost of Discipleship.  He was calling for genuine faith and a walk with Christ. He was a vocal anti-nazist in 1933 as Hitlers rise to power was taking place.  Though he pastored other places, Schwabish Hall was a place he resided in as well.    He went on to teach pastors in an underground seminary as the war heated up.  April of 1943 Bonhoeffer was arrested, accused of involvement in a plot to overthrow and assassinate Hiltler.  He lived in various concentration camps and then transferred to an extermination camp.  One month before Germany surrendered, Boenhoffer was hanged and went to be with Jesus.  He wrote from prison, “To be a Christian does not mean to be religious in a particular way, to make something of oneself (a sinner, a penitent, or a saint) on the basis of some method or other, but to be a man – not a type of man, but the man that Christ creates in us.  It is not the religious act that makes the Christian, but the participation in the sufferings of God in the secular life.”

As life would have it, Dietrich’s niece resided in the very apartment we are living in for the next three months.  What rich spiritual heritage we are surrounded by…in a place that has seen such trial and suffering.  In a place where the war that raged on was waged in the heavenlies as well.  The spiritual oppression in this place must have been profound…but so was the light that was held out by those who carried the light of Life in their hearts.  A light that cannot be extinguished.  It is that very light that we carry through our journey of faith.  I feel God’s hand so mightily and clearly upon us.  Life does not have to be easy to be blessed, He has taught me this.  And often, it is in the hard that we grow the most…through the parched desert that we are most grateful for water that only He could provide.  God is teaching me to see Germany through the eyes of his faithfulness that never leaves. How blessed we are to serve this God of love and mercy.  How much it makes me want to do this well for my children, my husband and to the glory of my God. 

Treatment will start soon and we have only just begun, but God has already been ahead and behind us!  And as Boenhoffer so eloquently wrote, may our prayer be that in all things- whether good or bad – that our goal wouldn’t be to make ourselves something based on man’s image, but that we would be made into the man Christ creates in us. 

Psalms 12:5-6

“But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation.  I will sing to the LORD, for he has been good to me.”

This is a traditional iconic view of Schwabish Hall.  

This is looking out our door and to the left; 

following the cobblestone straight ahead

 leads to a foot bridge and the parking garage.

The front doors that we will call home for the next twelve weeks.

These army vehicles from WWII were parked for a short while to advertise

a peace festival, celebrating the times after the war.

Beautiful l doors- in love with the architecture.

reflections from a nursing home

I would have never picked a nursing home.  As I walked down the hallways filled with smells and doors I was scared to walk through, I had wild thoughts jumping around in my head.  How the heck did I get here?  What was I doing? I could not do this.  Yet, here I was, fulfilling a pre-requisite to the nursing program I was hoping to be accepted to.  This was, by far, the most challenging pre-requisite to complete.  Not just because the only time I could take it was on the weekends…the weekend after a full load of other pre-requisites.  And not just because it was true hands-on training in the medical field that would either make or break my dream of becoming a nurse.  It was because, out of all the jobs I would say I would ever have, working at a nursing home was never one of them.

I love people.  I love old people, young people, broken people and inspiring people.  Truly, God made me to love people.  So, my aversion to nursing homes was not about the people, as much as the place.  I did not know what to expect, and the population in general was intimidating to me.  What do you say to someone who is asking questions that make no sense because their mind is wracked with Alzheimer’s?  How was I going to handle situations when the patient was in a vulnerable position and needed help that to me, seemed a bit embarrassing?  How would I deal with facing the fact that someday, I might be one of those aged souls, needing this amount of help? 

Working in the nursing home taught me lessons that I will take through life, and has caused much reflection in my heart.  I thought I would share what nine weekends of CNA training brought to light- the funny and the serious reflections that still clang around in my mind.

Family involvement is everything.  It was amazing to see the people who had family involved in their care, and there were subtle differences.  I am not talking about differences in the quality of care- but in the way the patient was cared for.  When someone shows up to eat a meal with the patient stuck in bed, it gives them so much joy and something wonderful to look forward to.  When the resident’s laundry was done by family and smelled of fresh dryer sheets…notes on the whiteboard and pictures around…these things made a difference. Families who stay involved bless the individual in the nursing home. 

Providing personal care for patients was not embarrassing at all.  I was greatly impressed with our training on patient privacy, and many CNA’s take the task seriously.  Whether due to surgery, injury or inability, the fact is that some people just need to wear briefs (adult diapers) and they need to be changed often.  I was really concerned about keeping the patient’s dignity in this process, along with when there were shower needs to help with.  I will boil it all down to this- it was an honor to help someone with their most basic needs.  That is not to say that at times it was not a challenge, but in the end, compassion won over any gross-out factor, and it somehow felt like being the hands and feet of Jesus.  It is not glamourous to change briefs or scrub hair that smells and has not been washed in over a week. But there is a quiet sense of fulfillment that comes from helping the helpless.  That blessed my heart in unexpected ways.

The biggest lesson I learned on personal health is this: KEEP MOVING.  When patients became bed-bound, bed sores were a daily battle to fight and it seems to go downhill from there.  I truly was inspired even more to take care of my physical being, and stay physically strong.  I believe that just simply walking is helpful to keep the body moving, and also to keep the mind strong.  I have told my husband many times that my goal in life is to always be as active as I can be.  So, to this end, I will bike, run, jog, stretch, eat my veggies, hydrate well and KEEP MOVING as I age.

Although there were so many learning lessons I will take with me, the most profound was something I would say quite often after the day was over and I was coming home to my family.  I would tell Levi and my boys, “It is amazing the difference that Jesus makes.  You can almost just feel it when you walk into their room.”

I am not into “feelings faith” where we rely on emotion of the moment to get us through…I am actually a fairly conservative, Bible-based-facts type of person who will raise her hands in surrendered worship, but stop short of being slain in the spirit, LOL. I know with all my heart I have felt the Lord’s presence, but I also am grounded on reality.   I explain this as a backdrop to help you understand what I mean when I say….I truly could walk into a room and feel Jesus there with the person. There was hope in their eyes and in their face, even amidst troubling circumstances.  There was kindness in their requests, even if they were in pain.  There was an air of dignity about them, even in the most humbling of times.  There was a lightness to the room that was truly unexplainable.

I will never forget the first weekend that Stephanie and I were immersed in the reality of CNA work and the aging population. We were both a bit shell-shocked and hanging on for dear life, truly praying that the Lord would give us strength to get through the things that were hard for us (smells, the sadness, fear of vomiting etc.).  We took vitals, learned how to do a bed bath, provided for basic needs like food, teeth brushing and then it was time to check on the next room.  There was a frail woman laying on her bed, asleep with flowers on her little table. She was in short term, recovering from some health issue, and slightly confused.  She had a card from her church and her Bible on her nightstand. And there was a sweet peace in her quiet little room, abiding, as she slept there.  In the week that followed, we would get to see her awake and help her eat.  Through confusion, there was always a gentle confidence about her, and a ready smile.  Even though she struggled, she was joy and she was light. She had Jesus in her heart- the proof was all over her life.  Stephanie and I both loved taking care of her humble, confused little self. She was a joy.

This picture in my mind is frozen in time, and contrasted to another picture- one that breaks my heart and formed training wheels for my future in medicine. It seems that no matter what facility we went to, no matter what weekend, there was always that one lady that was in extreme pain with no hope.. fighting anger, bitterness at life and desperation evident in their eyes. I saw one of the worst bed sores that had tunneled deep into tissue on a patient that was dying. It was sad, and it was horrible. But what was the most horrible was the times that people were suffering either loudly or silently, and I was not sure that they had Jesus to cling to.

I have told my boys the more gentle lessons I have learned…and the heart of it has been this: Jesus is our anchor. He is the one thing that we can hold on to, whether rich or poor, living in squalor or wealth, it is He alone who gives us our dignity. In storms, in pain, in helpless situations and when we become a shell of who we used to be- He is our sustenance. And for anyone who questions if Jesus is real- if it all is just a story that makes us feel better when we are scared or sad, I can tell you, I have seen the difference. At the end of my days, I want to know Jesus better than I know him now. I want my children and grandchildren to walk into my room and see me in peace, joyful at the expectancy of Jesus.

At this time of the year, we are expectant of Christmas. We prepare meals, presents, dinner parties and plans.  It’s a season of joy abundant. One of my favorite things is looking at Christmas lights all around town, snuggled up with my family in the car and hot cocoa in our hands.  We drive to the places we know will be decorated with hundreds of lights, expectant of beauty to behold. I hope that along with the celebration, that we find room for the expectancy of Christ.  I have been doing a devotional that reminds me of this:  Immanuel, meaning Christ with us, came down to live among us.  And though he died, so that we may live without the consequence of eternal death, He never left us.  He gave us His Spirit as a deposit, guaranteeing what is to come and given us His seal upon us (2 Corinthians 1:22).  We have the hope of Jesus, the hope of heaven, this Christmas season.  May its true gift not be lost on us.  May we live like God’s precious people, looking more like Him every day, and being a discernable reflection of Him.  We all have an expiration date…I think that’s what stared me in the face the most at the nursing homes.  I want to live every day for Jesus, because at the end of the day, that is what life is all about.

I am grateful for the weekends that I spent with people’s grandparents and loved ones. I treated every person the way I would want my grandparents treated.  I do believe that there are many amazing CNA’s that feel the same way.

I am going to enjoy Christmas break with my family and get ready for the next round of classes in January and am so excited to see where the Lord continues to lead.  I can tell you one thing, Lyme Disease has another thing coming.  I think that between Steph and I, it may have met its match. 

 God bless each of you that need hope this season.  Jesus came and Jesus lives.  Immanuel, God is with you, precious soul. 

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

Boom. Twenty-one credits, one term: done.

lead me to the rock that is higher than i

***This post was written after our first round of treatment for Lyme Disease (locally) and before our treatment began in Germany***

It begins with a sharp cry.  I instantly know the sound.  My heart drops and I am moving out of bed in a panic before I am even fully aware.  I run up the stairs with a rock in my gut and the speed of every mother running to her child in need.  Because I know exactly what's happening.  My son is having a seizure. 

It's the same sound, every time.  The same instinctual need to run.  Every time.  It only happens in the night.  I am awakened out of a dead sleep with an anxiety I recognize and think about every night just before sleep overtakes me.  I pray.  Before bed I usually try to mentally prepare in case tonight is the night that another one will awake us.

He cries.  He sits up in bed and is seized by something that overtakes him.  It causes him pain.  He can talk and he begs me to help him.  He is scared and panicked.  It's 3:46 a.m.  I watch the clock behind his head.  I try to hold him and comfort him.  He sits up and clutches his arms to his chest as he shivers and shakes.  I beg God for help.  I want to scream to the whole world to help.  I am helpless.  There is nothing I can do.  I watch my son desperate for help and there is nothing I can offer.  There are no words that can describe the angst in my mommy heart.  It breaks.  It gets terrified.  My son....my son.  Oh how I wish I could take it.  How I wish I knew why. 

My touch seems to hurt him.  He cries loudly and shrieks.  He say's "oww."  I don't know what is hurting him and I can't touch him.  He is not able to communicate much with me but he is more verbal during these seizures than he used to be.  I try to ask him what exactly hurts.  He tells me his neck.  His head.  I try to gain any clues I can to give to his doctor so that we can stop these seizures.  I am desperate for answers. 

As the seizure goes on and on I watch the clock.  Two minutes go by.  At what point do I call an ambulance?  I am not seasoned at this.  I am not the mom that has a son with seizures.  When did this happen?  God, please make it stop.  Please.  I plead.  With every second that passes, even without verbalizing, my heart is pleading with the Lord. 

Four minutes.  It seems like he is starting to come out of it.  He stands up, shaky.  He is confused.  He tries to walk downstairs to get water and seems to not realize that he has been awake for a while, seizing.  His mind is just now finding consciousness and every fiber of my being is on high alert.  I rush to his side to steady him as he sleepily walks down the stairs like nothing just happened.  I hold him as he goes to the kitchen to get water.  He is so tired.  I ask him if he remembers having a seizure.  He says no. Barely.  Then he walks back up to bed and lays his head down, mumbling that it hurts.  My heart hurts.  I cover him up.  I kiss his head.  It's over.  I stumble down the stairs back to my bed...and lay there.  I process everything that just happened.  I try not to be terrified.  I try to pray and set it aside because the terror feels like it will engulf me if I don't.  I lay there awake, unable to go back to sleep.

Nights like tonight as I pray over my son before I go to bed...I can't go to sleep.  I start to pray, asking the God of heaven and earth, the Maker who formed my son, to take away his seizures.  And tears stream down my face.  Not because I am angry at God.  And not because I don't think He cares.  But because for now, even though I have prayed He would take it away, He has asked us to carry this load.

I think of so many mothers and fathers....asked to carry a heavy load.  The load of grief...the load of sorrow.  The heavy weight of pain.  There is nothing like watching your child suffer to bring out the searing scald of a torn heart. 

These nights, I cling to the Lord.  I don't know what lays ahead.  There is no known reason for the seizures.  An MRI yielded no diagnosis.  Treatment for Lyme did not cure it.  I had held onto the hope that it would.  He is my funny boy- with a tender soul and eyes that sparkle when he's mischievous or when he tells a joke.  As a baby he was fussy but he loved his pacifier.  We would smile and pop it out of his mouth because he always had it in.  He would give a grin, grab the pacifier and pop it back in his mouth.  On and on this game would go...it's one of the "funnies" that we tell Wyatt often about his baby days.  He has never loved to snuggle as much as he does now.  And I treasure it.  I hold him a little tighter, too afraid to give in to fear.  But the edge of fear is there, staring me down.

But in those times when my fear feels like it will swallow me whole, I have to consciously CHOOSE to do the only thing I know how to do.  I tip-toe back, into the shelter of the Most High.  The One who hears me, and knows me.  Back to my Father who knows my needs before I even ask.  The One who loves my son with a love even greater than I could ever possess...a perfect love.  One without sin.  A love that desires all the wholeness and fullness of what Christ died to give his children.  This is the One who holds my son.  Even in the dark of night when my heart erupts in terror as his cries rise up.

I have been delaying posting this.  I have put a whole pause on this blog as a whole for months.  Because I thought that our season of "hard" was over.  I thought that we would turn the page, say good-bye to Lyme and welcome happier days ahead.  I have wanted to write about happy and funny things, and not be a blog writer that focuses on the "hard" of life.  Time and again, I feel the Lord telling me to be honest...to write about where He has us right now, without putting on the pretty fake sugar coating that I would like to.  He has told me to write about suffering.  Not suffering as some have walked through, as there are levels to suffering.  But suffering, all the same for my family. 

For those of you walking through Lyme, I want to let you know that I will do a post following this one, that will talk about test results and treatment information.  I said I would at the beginning of this blog journey, and I will!  It has just taken me a while to mentally be able to unpack everything following such a grueling treatment.  It takes mental energy to think about Lyme because more than anything I would like to ignore it.  At least for a while.

I will end with this verse...the verse I have prayed to the Lord when sleep doesn't suffice and fear seems to overcome.  I know with all my heart, more than ever, that my God is alive.

FROM THE END OF THE EARTH
WILL I CRY TO YOU.  WHEN MY
HEART IS
OVERWHELMED,
LEAD ME TO THE ROCK THAT IS
HIGHER THAN I.
Psalms 61:2