Paul's Birthday

Yesterday, Paul would've been 9. When your last memory is 6 1/2, nine is hard to imagine. We celebrated by going with friends to the Putt-putt fun center in Killeen and doing a lot of the things that Paul loved to do. In his honor, I never bent down to place my ball, but dropped it and scooched it with my foot (something he had to do the last several months of his life because of the pain of bending over).

God is good. He has continued to bless us with wonderful, thoughtful friends who emailed and texted to remind us that they miss Paul, too. Thank you for that. It doesn't make me miss him any less, but it sure makes me feel not so lonely in it.

A friend sent these pictures to me today (they were taken in August of 2002, right before Whit was born). They are priceless treasures of wonderful memories. My first thought was how perfect his body was... no scars from surgery or port placements or biopsies... just smooth, perfect skin. I don't remember Paul like that, but it is good to be reminded.

Paul, Christmas, Reindeer and Soap

Paul loved Christmas. Of course, all kids love Christmas, but he seemed to treasure it more than the average kid. It wasn't just about getting gifts (are you kidding? Paul pretty much got gift year-round so Christmas was no biggie), he really loved the season of Christmas. While Jack and Whit were inside watching Sponge Bob, Paul would be outside with Daddy hanging the lights. While the other boys were playing video games, Paul sat on the couch and supervised my decorating of the windowsill ("Just a little more over that way, Mommy..."). We have one lonely lighted reindeer in our front yard because of Paul. He wore me down one year until I finally bought one.

This morning, I've been getting ready for a Christmas party we're having tonight. In the middle of all the cleaning and organizing, I stopped at Paul's picture that sits at my kitchen sink. I stood there and had myself a good cry while I missed him. I wondered what would be on his Christmas list this year and I cried some more. I thought about how much he loved looking at Christmas lights and continued my bawl-fest. I miss him...

...And then I noticed that the soap dispenser was almost empty, so I filled it up...

The Power of Addiction

I must admit I don’t understand drug addiction. To me, it seems simple: drugs are ruining your life, so just quit taking them. However, the more folks I talk with who face the stronghold of addiction, the more I am convinced: it’s not that easy. And I don’t have any answers.

This month at the clinic, we served several folks who are trying to regain control of their lives from drug addiction. Two stand out in my mind vividly.

“Monica” is a wife and a mother of four children (from 4 months to 10 years). Child Protective Services recently took her children from her because of her addiction to meth. Her marriage is in shambles. Her once-happy family has disintegrated because of her constant drug use. She is desperate to re-gain custody of her children and repair her relationship with her husband, and yet she fears that she doesn’t have the power to walk away from the drugs.

“Ralph” is in his mid-sixties. He’s been in and out of prison for over 20 years for drug abuse. He barely knows his grandchildren, but longs to be a real “grand daddy” to them. Tears stream down his face as he speaks of the time lost with his now-grown kids… time that he can never get back… relationships that he fears he can never restore. Desperately he wants to change, to be a dad and grandfather, to attend birthday parties and school recitals. But he has failed so many times before… There is true fear in his voice when he talks about the drug house that is literally right across the street from the rehab center where he is staying… And about the folks there who are more than happy to give him his first hit “for free.”

As I pray with Monica and Ralph, I admit that I have nothing to offer – no advice, no magic formula. I can’t even understand where they’re coming from. I have no power or help to cure their addiction. But… I serve a God who does! In fact, I serve the God who is the ONLY one who can fill the emptiness and pain that drugs have masked for Monica and Ralph.

Will you join me in praying for these two precious children of God? Will you claim the power of Jesus Christ over their lives? No doubt, it is the only way true healing will occur.

The Stockings Were Hung...

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Since Whit was born, seven years ago, I've been trying to find a 5th stocking. I have four that look great together and that I've had for years, but that 5th stocking just seems to escape me every year. I've even been willing to scrap the four I have and start completely over, but nothing seems to work for me.

This year, I was determined to hang FIVE stockings. We have five members of this family, and they would ALL have a stocking... either that or I would hang none. So, in the many boxes and bags of Christmas decor that Terrill dragged down from the attic, I found another stocking. I've had it for years (it was a gift from my aunt long ago), and it is beautiful, but I've never hung it because it doesn't "match" the other four we have. This year, however, I placed it next to the other four, where it hung very conspicuously. I decided that I would be the martyr and claim the "rogue" stocking. Afterall, it was quite feminine (plus, this way, no one could complain).

I didn't like it at first. It looked completely out of place. It screamed the truth - that it was a last resort, and constantly reminded me that I had failed as a decorator.

But then I got gradually got used to it and one day it occured to me: this was actually the PERFECT 5th stocking, but not for me... for Paul. It hung as part of a group of five, and yet completely separate from it. And the stocking even has an angelic motif. It is made out of an angel toille fabric and has little angels sewn around the top.

So now... I am no longer in search of that elusive 5th stocking. Like so many things in life, it was something I've been hunting for for years and yet had in my possession all along.

A Clinic Update

“Suzanne” arrived a little late to the clinic this past week. Her name was last on our sign-in sheet. Fortunately, our volunteer doctor had already agreed to stay as late as necessary to see everyone who needed to be seen. While she was in a patient room waiting to see the doctor, I went in to talk with her. Suzanne told me she’d grown up in a middle-class family. Her parents were missionaries in Mexico. Now in her mid-fifties, she found herself in a completely new situation. Due to health problems, family issues and the poor economy, Suzanne was without a job and homeless for the first time in her life.

The amazing part of her story is that, through tears, Suzanne spoke of the Lord’s faithfulness. She admitted that she had always claimed to have trusted God, but recently realized that in the past, she’d always had a safety net. With her current situation, she had nothing to fall back on, except Jesus -- and He was consistently supplying her needs! She spoke of having to trust Him for her next meal and a place to stay for the night, and of His tender care and amazing provision. Suzanne testified that although she was facing the toughest situation in her life, she was also growing more than ever in her intimacy with her Lord and Savior.

The short time I spent with Suzanne challenged and inspired me. Her testimony has been like a magnifying glass to my own lack of trust and misplaced priorities. I have thought of and prayed for Suzanne every day since our meeting, and I am still being challenged by her story.

Our volunteer team was able to give her some antibiotics for a painful infection she was dealing with, but what I received from her was far more valuable. I was the one who was supposed to be blessing Suzanne, but it turned out to be quite the opposite. Thank you, Lord, for your wonderful ways!

Things for Which I am Thankful Today

Today, I am thankful for:

* Blue skies, warm sunshine and a cool breeze... all on the same day!

* Looking out my driver's side review mirror and seeing little hands waving in the wind

* Boys who are big enough to buckle themselves in, but still young enough to need their Momma when they're sick

* Friendships that endure long distances, emotional selfishness, and miscommunications... and somehow manage to deepen in spite of it all

* A thoughtful husband who lets me sleep with the fan off

* Mission Waco... a place where my life-long habits, assumptions and beliefs are challenged and I'm afforded the opportunity to change

* Preemptive Love Coalition - a group of friends who amaze and inspire me to believe that God is mighty enough and loving enough to demonstrate His power DAILY in the lives of ordinary, obedient people

* Pictures, songs and sweet memories that remind me of the 6 years, 5 months and 26 days that Paul spent on this earth

* Forgiveness, grace and the promise of eternity.

Trust and Grace

Monday night my eldest son went to his first rock concert. He is only eleven. However, he went with his dad and several other men from our church. And it was U2. It's hard to go wrong with U2.

So, as you can imagine, he was up late. As in he didn't get to bed until 2:30, which meant he got 4 hours of sleep that night.

So, as you can also imagine, last night we wanted him in bed early. This didn't go over well with Jack who assured us - by whining and sulking - that he wasn't tired and didn't need to go to bed early. In the Saxon house, whining and sulking are the absolute fastest ways to an early bedtime, so things weren't looking good for Jack.

I was really getting annoyed that he continued to ask and beg to stay up after I had repeatedly told him to go to bed. Since he's getting older, I decided to take the approach of reasoning with him. Our conversation went like this:

Me: Jack, let me ask you a few questions. First, do I love you?
Jack: Yes.
Me: Do I always want what's best for you?
Jack: Yes.
Me: Now here's the tricky one.... think before you answer: Do I know what's best for you MORE than you do?
Jack: [slumping and barely audible] Yes.
Me: Ok then. Please go to bed without arguing with me. I want you to always remember that I love you and I will ALWAYS look out for your best interest. I need you to trust my decisions, even when you don't agree with me or like what I have to say.

Hmmmm... could this be a lesson that MOM needs to learn as well? I couldn't help but think of how many times the Lord has had this conversation with me. It's amazing how perfectly clear it is when I'm NOT the one on the receiving end.

So, hopefully I have a little more TRUST in my Lord and a little more GRACE for my son.