If you can't stand up, will you pray?

I found this prose tucked away in my Drafts folder. It's dated on my birthday of this year. I can't remember now what prompted me to write it, but my birthday is in July so it isn't unreasonable to think that Independence Day may have been on my mind because it is about our men and women in uniform. I have never hidden that I am a flag-waving, anthem-singing, Troop-supporting Patriot that cries when the flag is raised and when taps are played just before the 21 gun salute.  How fitting that I would find it this week as I am preparing my heart for my son to go into true battle.

My battles have been of the medical and spiritual kind~ almost all of us have faced those battles or have a spouse or parent who has. Only a fellow warrior: a comrade in arms, who while in full battle gear, has stepped onto the battlefield knowing a combatant from another country wants to do them harm, can possibly understand the stresses, fears and soul-searching that goes on in that environment.

This is what I found tucked away..it applies now more than ever.

      "If we don't, who will? If noone cares, we have already lost. If our hands don't help the families at home, they could fall apart. If the children left behind can't be proud, who will volunteer to serve next? If not my son, would yours? And if you can't stand up, will you pray?"

Whatever your political leaning, whatever your thoughts on a country going to war, I ask that you would picture with me now all the young men and women: 17, 18 and 19... they have dreamed of wearing a uniform for years; drawn pictures of tanks and battlefields while in school; taken JROTC if offered; read everything about weapons available; given their parents every reason in the book WHY they should enlist ~~ these are our children, our future, our now. They don't know anything but the burning need and desire to make service to the United States of America their calling. They don't enlist because there isn't anything else to do.. they enlist because this is the ONLY thing that makes sense for them to do. I know because my son is one of these. His friends are some of these. They are the protectors of our nation and I am so proud of them. How can we be anything less?

I can only Imagine

I can't even watch the video.. I just weep to the King

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xwzItqYmIIhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0xwzItqYmII

I believe You, Father

We just got the news that my son (a Marine) is getting deployed in 4 months - to go to war. He's 19 and I'm bawling like a baby as I type this.. I know that in his heart of hearts, this is what God has made him for: to be a protector of his family and the country.. I won't diminish that by denying it...but Dear Father!! My heart screams out.

My prayer now is now: I believe You Father, I trust You Father. I am praying for protection, vigilence and strength for the unit. I pray for good weather and safe conditions. I pray that all the Marines will keep their eyes open, their hearts on you and their minds on the job. I pray for the day that they all come walking safely off the plane home to us.
~I can do all things through Christ which strengthens me.(Phil. 4:13)

Because He Is

One thing about this blog.. I don't keep up with it very often, certainly not as often as I should. It actually started out in a notebook to my boys when they were toddlers and we first found my brain tumor. Some doctors told me that I had about 6 months to live on this earth.. NO! That couldn't be right! I had 2 precious babies at home. Somehow I needed to tell them everything about me, about this life and the next one while I could.

So I started to fill notebooks and I wrote letters to tuck in their babybooks. Six months stretched to a year, then to six years, on to twelve and here we are: thirteen years and counting! God is infinitely good, more than good. God IS.

So if nothing else, this is what I hope my boys understand. I have missed ball games, car pools, music performances, going to church with them, teaching Sunday school, Boy Scout ceremonies, holiday gatherings, vacations, graduations and dozens of other special days. Through it all, however, I have loved them and prayed for them. I have hugged them and laughed with them. Most importantly, I hope I have never once let my guys think God isn't good. Because He Is. He is enough. He is the way, the truth and the life. He is the everlasting God and His love is sufficient.

The notebooks and letters went up in flames when the house burned. All those heartfelt thoughts, life lessons and wishes for my children ~ gone. I am here, though, and have hugged them more than I thought possible.

The Day After Farrar Died

I am careful not to watch movies about those who are fighting cancer. I have found that it too often leads me into a profound depression especially if the cancer fighter railed against God.

Tonight I am breaking the rule am I watching the special that NBC ran on Farrah Fawcett. She was brave enough to show the true side of this awful, life-destroying, family-devastating disease. I admire her for that. It is hard enough to walk the road of treatment and recovery with your closest family and friends. This woman opened her struggle to the world. What a fighter. May God rest her soul. One of her German surgeons calls cancer a "terrorist" because we never know how or when it will strike. I would also add, nor how viciously. I continue to be vigilant.

I know that I am at peace that God is watching over me; I try to cling to the belief that He is healing me in His own time. I pray that the time is this side of Heaven. As a survivor, it is oh, so hard not to think about every deep pain that lasts more than three or four days; every ache that haunts for weeks on end.

I now have both of my precious boys graduated from high school and starting college this Fall. My youngest "bonus" son (stepson for the uninitiated)is a Senior in high school this Fall and the oldest bonus son will be starting college also after a long sabatical. What blessings!

Blessed and depressed. What a dicotomy-yet I have no room for shame in my fight. So, I take antidepressants along with the daily medications that are supposed to help fight some of the long-term symptoms brought on by radiation to the brain and several rounds of chemo. I fight to not overuse the pain meds and to not "go up a level" in their intensity. I don't want to be addicted to pills and I don't want to run out of effective pain relief in the next 40 yrs I plan on spending with my husband and kids.

Moms With Terminal Illnesses: My Anchor Holds

Moms With Terminal Illnesses: My Anchor Holds
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FL112E3NjqU

Trusting My Anchor

So much has happened. When the home you raised your children in burns totally and is bulldozed, the ruins carted away in dump trucks, that is when you realize the things of life are important but not nearly so important as the memories of life. In the early morning hours of January 22, our family dog woke me up frantically crawling all over me. I got out of bed to discover the living room on fire. I had time to yell upstairs to my oldest son, who sleeps with his door closed. We both got out safely as the fire was spreading to the kitchen and ceilings. By the time the fire trucks arrived, our home was fully engulfed. After about 4.5 hours of fighting, there was enough control of the inferno to start tossing out a few things. We were able to salvage some pictures, two pieces of heirloom furniture, a few momentos and our Christmas china. Sixteen years in that house. Raising two children, hundreds of fish, several hamsters, 4 dogs. One divorce and a glorious remarriage. Celebrations, Mourning, Graduations, Fearful Diagnosis',Chemo, Radiation, Remission, Praise. Love, Fear, Worship and Faith. All of them experienced within those walls.

I mourn the family heirlooms that are lost forever. The awesome china and crystal, the rocks my Bampa touched. I have cried hours over the loss of my children's school boxes with their best papers and artwork from every year - their precious collections. I get angry that for the second time in his life, my husband has lost everything to fire. Christmas ornaments, wedding photos, high school and military yearbooks. Baptismal gown and trip souvenirs.

And yet, through it all, my anchor holds. The Lord is still my God. He is still my Savior. The Prince of Peace. Don't I know that He will always provide for me? He will always help me get through the pain, physical and emotional. My anchor may have been cast far and deep in this storm. My sails may be getting battered, but that anchor will find firm ground and a sure hold. He always does. He is the Lord.