June 25, 2008
How?
How, Lord?
How do I keep from living in the past…
From dreaming of yesterday and longing for days gone by?
How do I hold the memories close enough to enjoy, but not so much that they consume me?
How, Lord?
How do I appreciate today… with all its sorrow, with all its grief, with all it’s missing?
How do I look forward to tomorrow?
How do I look at my boys and see what’s there, without dwelling on what’s not?
How, Lord?
How do I have compassion for others, whose hardships I don’t deem “worthy” of mine?
How do I demonstrate the joy of the Lord, when I feel the hardness and cruelty of this world?
How do I experience grief fully, without wallowing in it?
How, Lord?
How do I keep from marking everything by that one moment in time…either “before” or “after”?
How can I be changed by my loss, but not engulfed by it?
How do I let it sharpen me, without cutting me to pieces?
June 18, 2008
Help find a cure
A friend of mine, Karen Debenport, who lost her precious daughter, Elesha, to Neuroblastoma just a couple of months before Paul died, is continuing the fight against this nasty disease.
As a member of the LOVE club (a non-profit organization organized to help build awareness and fund research for NB), she is working on a fundraiser. If you live in the DFW area, please consider supporting this group. Here are the details from her website:
******************************************************************************
Cooks is hoping to become a big center for Neuroblastoma in the South. I'm hopeful that it will also make more drug trials available for our patients. If you live in the area, please come out and support this event. We will have root beer floats, lemonade, baked goods, face painting, make-and-take bracelets, cotton candy, a cake walk, police ID kids and a firetruck and ambulance for kids to explore.
2nd Annual LOVE Club Event
June 21, 2008
10am – 2pm
at the Home Depot
9509 White Settlement Rd
Fort Worth, TX 76108
Benefitting
Cook Children's hospital
New Neuroblastoma Clinic
**********************************************************************************
Thank you, Karen and the rest of the LOVE Club!!!
As a member of the LOVE club (a non-profit organization organized to help build awareness and fund research for NB), she is working on a fundraiser. If you live in the DFW area, please consider supporting this group. Here are the details from her website:
******************************************************************************
Cooks is hoping to become a big center for Neuroblastoma in the South. I'm hopeful that it will also make more drug trials available for our patients. If you live in the area, please come out and support this event. We will have root beer floats, lemonade, baked goods, face painting, make-and-take bracelets, cotton candy, a cake walk, police ID kids and a firetruck and ambulance for kids to explore.
2nd Annual LOVE Club Event
June 21, 2008
10am – 2pm
at the Home Depot
9509 White Settlement Rd
Fort Worth, TX 76108
Benefitting
Cook Children's hospital
New Neuroblastoma Clinic
**********************************************************************************
Thank you, Karen and the rest of the LOVE Club!!!
June 16, 2008
Happy Anniversary!
Today I have been married to my wonderful husband for 18 years!!
Happy Anniversary, honey. I love you...
Happy Anniversary, honey. I love you...
June 7, 2008
God in a box and pets in Heaven
I used to think that animals didn't go to heaven.
I mean, I knew there were animals IN heaven - the Bible is definitely clear about that. I just didn't believe that animals WENT to heaven.
I've had this conversation many times with Jack, and I've been very clear with him: I'm definitely not sure about this, and I could be wrong - there are certainly many people who disagree with me - but since animals don't have a soul, I just didn't believe that they went to heaven.
Believing that our pets go to heaven, I thought, was just a nice thing to say to kids, and it made people feel better when they had to flush their pet goldfish down the toilet. I always reasoned that believing that animals went to heaven when they died was just a way to keep God inside the parameters of our human minds... inside the box we've created for Him because of the limits of our understanding.
Then we got a dog.
We've only had Pepper for about three months, but when his time comes, I know I'm going to want to imagine him in heaven. Now, before you start to worry about the fact that I'm so dark and pessimistic that I'm already planning the funeral of our brand new dog, let me pass the buck on to Jack.
We were walking Pepper a couple of days ago, and Jack said, "Do you think that when Pepper dies, he'll go to heaven and be Paul's dog? Paul always wanted a dog." I was instantly converted to a believer in pet-heaven.
Jack and I talked about how God certainly could do something like that, and I assured him that if Pepper did go to heaven, the Lord would make sure that Paul knew he was our dog in his previous life.
I admit: I really don't know the truth on this topic. But I DO know that our God is a generous and loving Father who lavishes us with blessings beyond what we deserve or can even imagine. Pepper in heaven fits perfectly of what I know about God... in or out of the box.
I mean, I knew there were animals IN heaven - the Bible is definitely clear about that. I just didn't believe that animals WENT to heaven.
I've had this conversation many times with Jack, and I've been very clear with him: I'm definitely not sure about this, and I could be wrong - there are certainly many people who disagree with me - but since animals don't have a soul, I just didn't believe that they went to heaven.
Believing that our pets go to heaven, I thought, was just a nice thing to say to kids, and it made people feel better when they had to flush their pet goldfish down the toilet. I always reasoned that believing that animals went to heaven when they died was just a way to keep God inside the parameters of our human minds... inside the box we've created for Him because of the limits of our understanding.
Then we got a dog.
We've only had Pepper for about three months, but when his time comes, I know I'm going to want to imagine him in heaven. Now, before you start to worry about the fact that I'm so dark and pessimistic that I'm already planning the funeral of our brand new dog, let me pass the buck on to Jack.
We were walking Pepper a couple of days ago, and Jack said, "Do you think that when Pepper dies, he'll go to heaven and be Paul's dog? Paul always wanted a dog." I was instantly converted to a believer in pet-heaven.
Jack and I talked about how God certainly could do something like that, and I assured him that if Pepper did go to heaven, the Lord would make sure that Paul knew he was our dog in his previous life.
I admit: I really don't know the truth on this topic. But I DO know that our God is a generous and loving Father who lavishes us with blessings beyond what we deserve or can even imagine. Pepper in heaven fits perfectly of what I know about God... in or out of the box.
June 1, 2008
Good Memories
I was up at the school for a meeting earlier this week. As I was sitting in the cafeteria waiting, I noticed a lot of activity around the stage. After a couple of minutes, I realized what was about to take place: rehearsal for Kindergarten graduation. Sure enough, Pomp and Circumstance began playing and little kindergartners began filing out of the hallways and onto the stage, hands behind their backs. I couldn't help but cry as I remembered Paul's graduation an entire year ago.
I remember how Terrill and I were so distracted in May of last year that Kindergarten graduation wasn't even on our radar. But, Paul's teacher kept reminding us of it and expressing her desire for him to be there. I remember when Paul was admitted to the hospital earlier in the week, I told Dr. Howrey emphatically that Paul WOULD be discharged in time to make his graduation. Fortunately, Howrey was extremely cooperative and helpful... plus, he knew what he was up against!
I remember waking up at 6 am that morning in order to get a last IV dose of morphine and to get discharged from the hospital (that always took an amazingly long time). Paul was not in a good mood at all - he was tired and in pain. Within just a few minutes of our hour and a half trip back to Waco, Paul was asleep in the car. I was bustin' it to make it to the school in time, praying for no traffic in Hillsboro. Terrill called me and expressed his skepticism in pulling this thing off. As I glanced at Paul in the back seat looking so worn out, I admitted that I didn't have a lot of hope, but I was going to give him every opportunity.
We pulled into the school parking lot with about 5 minutes to spare. I carried my tired and grumpy little Paulie into the cafeteria, and as soon as we stepped through the school doors, an amazing transformation took place. When Paul saw the audience, heard the music and saw the stage, he lifted his head off my shoulder and crawled out of my arms. Out of nowhere, Jack's teacher appeared offering to get him out of class, and Paul's teacher approached us with her special plan to accommodate Paul (who couldn't get up the stairs on his own or sit on the bleachers like the other kids).
I asked Paul if he wanted to participate in the ceremony, and I will never forget his eager reply: "YES!!" Terrill showed up and even though we were late arriving, we managed to squeeze into seats along the side.
As the music began to play, his class began filing into the cafeteria. I remember crying as I saw Paul, leading his class, holding his teacher's hand. His whole class matched his very slow pace, following him so patiently. When they reached the stage, his teacher gently helped him up the stairs and directed him to a chair that she had placed beside the bleachers for him.
The ceremony began with several songs sung by the kindergarteners, complete with hand motions. Paul kept a close eye on his music teacher, who was directing all the choreography, and you would've never known that he had missed all of the practices and rehearsals!
After the performance, they began recognizing individual kids and handing out diplomas. I remember that even though the principal had asked everyone to hold their applause to the end, when Paul walked across the stage, the audience errupted with cheer. I couldn't contain my emotions as I watched him take his certificate and limp across the stage to his place with his classmates.
What a great day! Paul was so proud of himself, and we were thrilled to see him enjoying his very special milestone.
Good memories... I am so grateful for these.
I remember how Terrill and I were so distracted in May of last year that Kindergarten graduation wasn't even on our radar. But, Paul's teacher kept reminding us of it and expressing her desire for him to be there. I remember when Paul was admitted to the hospital earlier in the week, I told Dr. Howrey emphatically that Paul WOULD be discharged in time to make his graduation. Fortunately, Howrey was extremely cooperative and helpful... plus, he knew what he was up against!
I remember waking up at 6 am that morning in order to get a last IV dose of morphine and to get discharged from the hospital (that always took an amazingly long time). Paul was not in a good mood at all - he was tired and in pain. Within just a few minutes of our hour and a half trip back to Waco, Paul was asleep in the car. I was bustin' it to make it to the school in time, praying for no traffic in Hillsboro. Terrill called me and expressed his skepticism in pulling this thing off. As I glanced at Paul in the back seat looking so worn out, I admitted that I didn't have a lot of hope, but I was going to give him every opportunity.
We pulled into the school parking lot with about 5 minutes to spare. I carried my tired and grumpy little Paulie into the cafeteria, and as soon as we stepped through the school doors, an amazing transformation took place. When Paul saw the audience, heard the music and saw the stage, he lifted his head off my shoulder and crawled out of my arms. Out of nowhere, Jack's teacher appeared offering to get him out of class, and Paul's teacher approached us with her special plan to accommodate Paul (who couldn't get up the stairs on his own or sit on the bleachers like the other kids).
I asked Paul if he wanted to participate in the ceremony, and I will never forget his eager reply: "YES!!" Terrill showed up and even though we were late arriving, we managed to squeeze into seats along the side.
As the music began to play, his class began filing into the cafeteria. I remember crying as I saw Paul, leading his class, holding his teacher's hand. His whole class matched his very slow pace, following him so patiently. When they reached the stage, his teacher gently helped him up the stairs and directed him to a chair that she had placed beside the bleachers for him.
The ceremony began with several songs sung by the kindergarteners, complete with hand motions. Paul kept a close eye on his music teacher, who was directing all the choreography, and you would've never known that he had missed all of the practices and rehearsals!
After the performance, they began recognizing individual kids and handing out diplomas. I remember that even though the principal had asked everyone to hold their applause to the end, when Paul walked across the stage, the audience errupted with cheer. I couldn't contain my emotions as I watched him take his certificate and limp across the stage to his place with his classmates.
What a great day! Paul was so proud of himself, and we were thrilled to see him enjoying his very special milestone.
Good memories... I am so grateful for these.
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