Dear Jesus,
I figured if Santa gets tons of letters this time of year, You deserve one (at least!), too. Thanksgiving has come and gone, but I have a lot to say, "thank You" for, so I decided there is no time like the present. I know I don't display my gratitude nearly enough. I'm grateful that you see through this wicked heart to know that deep-down in there is an immense amount of thanksgiving for all You have done, and are doing.
First, thank You for this Season. I know that You weren't technically born on December 25, but I am glad that there is a time of year those who choose to acknowledge Your birth can. Thank You for choosing to be born. I cannot begin to understand the love You and Your Father (mine, too) have for humans, that He would sacrifice You to save me. It's incredible. I'm sorry for not making each day more like Christmas-both in my heart and in my home.
Thank You for the countless blessings You have bestowed on me, entirely unearned and undeserved, yet You have chosen to give them anyway. Thank You for leading me to a husband who loves me more than I ever hoped for, and literally sacrifices his wants, time, and desires to try to give us a healthy and stable home. Thank You for saving him, and for placing Your calling on his heart. We don't know how it will be fulfilled yet, but the knowledge that You have called him/us is a blessing we will forever be grateful for.
Thank You for NaomiRae, Timothy, and Titus-John. Children I always wanted, but feared I would never have. Thank You for their laughter, love, and crazy idiosyncrasies that daily teach me to trust You and run to You to be the mother I know You have called me to be. Thank You for the unique personalities, gifts, and talents You have given to each one, so that they can each serve You in some way in the future-for Your Kingdom.
Thank You for Baby T. Thank You for having timing for our family, which is much wiser than my own. Thank You for not thinking we're crazy for wanting another child, but for giving us the knowledge that parenthood is an abundant blessing You have bestowed on us-both now and for the rest of our lives. Thank You for saving this little One again. Thank You for allowing the fear I had to be unfounded, that I only had a minor issue that caused "fake" labor. Thank You that, as time passes, I will become more and more uncomfortable because my body is still "cooking" Baby T. You know that having three other children would never replace the growing love I have for this Baby, and the loss of him would have been devastating. My heart is full to overflowing with gratitude that You allowed me to keep this Baby, and that in just a few short months, it will be okay for him to be born, so our entire family can hold and cherish one more Baby.
Thank You for the Church, friends, and family that You have graced my life with. Thank You for using them to teach me how to better become the woman, wife, and mother You have called me to be. Thank You for having them teach me (whether said or modeled) how selfish I am, and how much growing I have to do. Thank You for a Godly Shepherd and Pastoral staff, who daily search Your Word to teach me Who You are, and how You have called me to live.
This letter can never be long enough to thank You for all You have done and continue to do. My words are futile to explain the depths of my love and gratitude for You. Please see past them, and read my heart. Thank You for knowing me better than I know myself, and for wanting me to be better, in every area of my life. Although it can be discouraging, thank You that I will never be "complete" until I walk into Your Presence.
I love You,
Tabitha
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Fear!
Okay, I admit. I am a planner. Not just, "I think I'll do that next week, that in two weeks, etc..." Throughout my entire "adultish-type" life, I have planned most of the big events, and many of the small ones. One of the most "out-of-control" areas, though, is childbirth. You can only plan so much. The rest is in the "hands" of the Baby and the doctors.
When I was expecting our first, NaomiRae, all of the childbirth classes were full until well after her due date. So, being the avid reader and "need to know everything" person, I went to the Library and checked out 10+ books on childbirth. I got through half of one, and made the executive decision to have an epidural and keep the rest as a mystery. My imagination is vivid. Very vivid! So, after seeing just a few pictures, and reading one too many descriptions, I decided I would take the "ignorance is bliss" role in childbirth. The nightmares were not worth the knowledge. Her labor was crazy. I had intense back labor that began without warning. I had just been checked by the nurses, told I was not anything, sent to take a shower (She was induced), and told it could be almost 24 hours before anything happened. Well, in one hour I went from 0-10, and was not intentionally pushing because of the back labor, which does NOT show up on their dumb screens, by-the-way. The epidural man was called, and my pain was SO bad, I NEVER felt that pen-size needle enter my spinal column and give me pain relief that made me want to marry that man. (If I wasn't already married to my very best friend...) :D That was my labor. SO easy I couldn't wait to get out of the hospital and go to Target. Twenty minutes of pain-free pushing and there she was.
Next, came big-headed Timmy. His epidural experience was not good. It hurt like anything, and went into my blood vessel. The chances of that happening are 1 in 10,000 per person. This means that the chances of it happening to a person are .00001, a chance so small, they don't even give you the possibility of it happening. Well, it did-to me. Ever since, I have had ear problems because of the pressure created when the anesthesia was released into my blood vessel. Weird, but not bad enough to keep me from getting another one with Titus-John. So, I got TWO epidurals with Timothy. The second went better, but I was still suffering with the results of the first one.
Finally, came Titus-John. His epidural hurt, but not as bad as Timothy's. But, the second the medicine was released into my body, I lost my voice. I had to go on oxygen immediately, and it was determined that the anesthesia caused temporary paralysis of my vocal cords. I was also pretty dizzy and short of breath. Everything evened out by the time my littlest baby was born, but the doctor's did not like what I had gone through.
So, we come to the point of this entire post. I am now officially allergic to the epidural. Which means I will be going at this birth with nothing in my system. Being a diabetic has made me incredibly anti- any drug that make me feel like I have lost control of my body. So, anything mind-altering, I actually fight against, and can go into a panic. Not on purpose, but if your entire life depended on knowing what your body is doing, you would understand. I am going into this birth as a "new mom" of four. For thousands of years, women have been giving birth without the benefits of the "Epidural man." I will be joining their ranks this time. And, it is pretty scary to someone who has been through three other births. I know what can happen, and have felt pretty intense pain AFTER, but never during. I used to be of that mindset that, "I am woman, hear me roar." Apparently, I have matured slightly, and know that I may be a woman, but if I'm roaring, it's because I'm mad or in pain, or throwing up, not that I'm Super Woman. It is an unfortunate truth we all must face. So sorry to those of you who haven't learned this yet!
I know I'll be fine, eventually, once Baby is here. But for now, I have to make sure I stable myself with the thought that I do NOT want to ruin my testimony because I yelled or worse. Yes, these nurses and doctors have seen and heard just about everything, but I want to be full of God's grace as I get ready to bring my precious fourth Baby into this world, knowing I canNOT wait to hold him/her and love being a blessed Mommy of Four!
When I was expecting our first, NaomiRae, all of the childbirth classes were full until well after her due date. So, being the avid reader and "need to know everything" person, I went to the Library and checked out 10+ books on childbirth. I got through half of one, and made the executive decision to have an epidural and keep the rest as a mystery. My imagination is vivid. Very vivid! So, after seeing just a few pictures, and reading one too many descriptions, I decided I would take the "ignorance is bliss" role in childbirth. The nightmares were not worth the knowledge. Her labor was crazy. I had intense back labor that began without warning. I had just been checked by the nurses, told I was not anything, sent to take a shower (She was induced), and told it could be almost 24 hours before anything happened. Well, in one hour I went from 0-10, and was not intentionally pushing because of the back labor, which does NOT show up on their dumb screens, by-the-way. The epidural man was called, and my pain was SO bad, I NEVER felt that pen-size needle enter my spinal column and give me pain relief that made me want to marry that man. (If I wasn't already married to my very best friend...) :D That was my labor. SO easy I couldn't wait to get out of the hospital and go to Target. Twenty minutes of pain-free pushing and there she was.
Next, came big-headed Timmy. His epidural experience was not good. It hurt like anything, and went into my blood vessel. The chances of that happening are 1 in 10,000 per person. This means that the chances of it happening to a person are .00001, a chance so small, they don't even give you the possibility of it happening. Well, it did-to me. Ever since, I have had ear problems because of the pressure created when the anesthesia was released into my blood vessel. Weird, but not bad enough to keep me from getting another one with Titus-John. So, I got TWO epidurals with Timothy. The second went better, but I was still suffering with the results of the first one.
Finally, came Titus-John. His epidural hurt, but not as bad as Timothy's. But, the second the medicine was released into my body, I lost my voice. I had to go on oxygen immediately, and it was determined that the anesthesia caused temporary paralysis of my vocal cords. I was also pretty dizzy and short of breath. Everything evened out by the time my littlest baby was born, but the doctor's did not like what I had gone through.
So, we come to the point of this entire post. I am now officially allergic to the epidural. Which means I will be going at this birth with nothing in my system. Being a diabetic has made me incredibly anti- any drug that make me feel like I have lost control of my body. So, anything mind-altering, I actually fight against, and can go into a panic. Not on purpose, but if your entire life depended on knowing what your body is doing, you would understand. I am going into this birth as a "new mom" of four. For thousands of years, women have been giving birth without the benefits of the "Epidural man." I will be joining their ranks this time. And, it is pretty scary to someone who has been through three other births. I know what can happen, and have felt pretty intense pain AFTER, but never during. I used to be of that mindset that, "I am woman, hear me roar." Apparently, I have matured slightly, and know that I may be a woman, but if I'm roaring, it's because I'm mad or in pain, or throwing up, not that I'm Super Woman. It is an unfortunate truth we all must face. So sorry to those of you who haven't learned this yet!
I know I'll be fine, eventually, once Baby is here. But for now, I have to make sure I stable myself with the thought that I do NOT want to ruin my testimony because I yelled or worse. Yes, these nurses and doctors have seen and heard just about everything, but I want to be full of God's grace as I get ready to bring my precious fourth Baby into this world, knowing I canNOT wait to hold him/her and love being a blessed Mommy of Four!
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Little Bean
Today was a day that I tried to be prepared for anything. Let me tell you, I am quite sure I was not at all prepared for what God was going to do in me today. As many of you know, I have been anxiously counting down to my first pre-natal visit (which was today...). To me, it always seems to be the "reality check" of carrying another human being within me. After three pregnancies, you might think it becomes old hat, but not at all for me. So, I love the first visit when the doctor or nurse practitioner gets out their little "heartbeat finder" and the amazing sound of the fastest little heartbeat comes through the speaker.
On my drive to the Doctor's office, I decided to spend some time praying. I had a pretty incredible heaviness come over me, so I prayed. For those of you who don't know this, twins run in both Richard's and my families. In addition to this being a surprise blessing pregnancy, I have had several people suggest I may be big enough to be carrying twins. So, for the last few weeks, I have been praying for the grace to be joyful if this is indeed the road God has willed for us to travel. So, on my ride in, I was praying for grace to handle whatever I was to find out today. I prayed to be joyful if it was twins, and I prayed that (believe it or not!) I would not be disappointed if it was only one. (I know, crazy, but... no, just crazy!) Then, I felt the intense need to pray for the Grace to handle finding out I had miscarried. Unfortunately, I do tend to view life on the more cynical/pessimistic side sometimes. But, as I said, I felt a heaviness in my heart, and I needed to ask my Savior to hold my hand through today.
About two hours later, I was getting ready for the "big moment". The nurse had me lay down on the table, and started trying to find my little one's heartbeat. For what felt like hours, although realistically it was only minutes, she tried to find that heartbeat. Nothing. For the first time in four pregnancies, no heartbeat could be found. She left the room to go see if the Sonographer had a few moments to squeeze me in, and she did-right then. So, she threw two robes on me, and walked me across the hallway to the ultrasound room. At first, I was very calm, but then, I had to wait for a few minutes. It was so quiet in that room, and being that I am a bit dramatic in thought, I had one too many moments to consider what actually might be the problem. So, I quickly texted Richard to let him know I was waiting for an ultrasound because no heartbeat could be found. Then, I heard the technician and my nurse whispering right outside the door. No, I could not hear what they were saying, but I knew they were whispering. Whispering always makes me a little bit nervous. Finally, after waiting for ten minutes (that began to feel a LOT longer!), she came in and entered everything into the three (yes, three!) different computers before she could start. I asked her if it was normal not to hear a heartbeat, and with her back to me, she said "yes." But, it was not normal for me! At long last, I laid down again, and she poured that goop all over my abdomen, and began searching for my baby's heartbeat. Almost instantly, she found baby, and said slowly, "There isn't a heartbeat." I said, "What?!? IS or IS NOT?!?" She said, "IS"!! Definitely "is." She then went on to tell me that the reason my nurse couldn't find a heartbeat was because my due date was wrong by one week. This meant I was early in my tenth week, not eleventh, which makes a huge difference in being able to hear the heartbeat.
Now, let me tell you what I went through in those 10-20 minutes between not hearing, and seeing my tiny child's heartbeat. In those few moments, I tried to prepare myself for the fact that I may have lost our baby. I tried not to "go there", but I did. It took all of my self-control not to cry, but I know I would have been unable to speak without crying. No longer did it matter that I had almost hoped for twins. No longer did it matter that a few people in my life had made comments about whether or not we should have had another child. I just wanted the baby inside of me to have LIFE. That was all that mattered. When I saw that heartbeat-a little "click" is what the heartbeat is described as right now, I felt like God had just given me back a child, and the joy that filled me was overwhelming. I could not wait to tell my husband that we were going to have one precious little baby, that his or her heartbeat was strong! And then, I received one more gift. My sonographer gave me two pictures. I was so surprised! I said, "You printed out pictures?" She answered, "Of course, you need pictures of the 'Little Bean' that gave you a scare!" What a heart for a mother! What a gift. I know, the Baby picture really does look like a bean-to you. But to me, that picture is a picture of an amazing gift and miracle the Lord gave to me today. It doesn't matter that his/her conception was ten weeks ago. TODAY, I was given the gift of life. I was given joy at the knowledge that I am carrying another Baby Truchon. Yes, I know, something may still go wrong with this pregnancy. But, TODAY, that is okay. For TODAY, I can rejoice that the Lord knew my fears of having another baby, made me face the reality that I may have lost that little one, only to show me how much I already love and cherish him/her. This Baby is NOT #4 in our home. This little one is little brother or little sister to NaomiRae, Timothy, and Titus-John. Beloved son or daughter to Richard and Tabitha.
So, I received an amazing gift today. The knowledge and ultimate understanding that I cannot wait for the healthy arrival of my child. As chaotic as the next few months will undoubtedly become, I cannot wait, and will always thank and praise the Lord for what He did for me and in me today.
Disclaimer: To those friends of mine who have lost a Baby (or Babies): I would NEVER even dare to think that I know the grief you have gone through upon the loss of your child. The very thought of losing my child scared me to my core, and that was only a thought, not a reality. Please know that I only described my thoughts to display what the Lord did in my heart.
On my drive to the Doctor's office, I decided to spend some time praying. I had a pretty incredible heaviness come over me, so I prayed. For those of you who don't know this, twins run in both Richard's and my families. In addition to this being a surprise blessing pregnancy, I have had several people suggest I may be big enough to be carrying twins. So, for the last few weeks, I have been praying for the grace to be joyful if this is indeed the road God has willed for us to travel. So, on my ride in, I was praying for grace to handle whatever I was to find out today. I prayed to be joyful if it was twins, and I prayed that (believe it or not!) I would not be disappointed if it was only one. (I know, crazy, but... no, just crazy!) Then, I felt the intense need to pray for the Grace to handle finding out I had miscarried. Unfortunately, I do tend to view life on the more cynical/pessimistic side sometimes. But, as I said, I felt a heaviness in my heart, and I needed to ask my Savior to hold my hand through today.
About two hours later, I was getting ready for the "big moment". The nurse had me lay down on the table, and started trying to find my little one's heartbeat. For what felt like hours, although realistically it was only minutes, she tried to find that heartbeat. Nothing. For the first time in four pregnancies, no heartbeat could be found. She left the room to go see if the Sonographer had a few moments to squeeze me in, and she did-right then. So, she threw two robes on me, and walked me across the hallway to the ultrasound room. At first, I was very calm, but then, I had to wait for a few minutes. It was so quiet in that room, and being that I am a bit dramatic in thought, I had one too many moments to consider what actually might be the problem. So, I quickly texted Richard to let him know I was waiting for an ultrasound because no heartbeat could be found. Then, I heard the technician and my nurse whispering right outside the door. No, I could not hear what they were saying, but I knew they were whispering. Whispering always makes me a little bit nervous. Finally, after waiting for ten minutes (that began to feel a LOT longer!), she came in and entered everything into the three (yes, three!) different computers before she could start. I asked her if it was normal not to hear a heartbeat, and with her back to me, she said "yes." But, it was not normal for me! At long last, I laid down again, and she poured that goop all over my abdomen, and began searching for my baby's heartbeat. Almost instantly, she found baby, and said slowly, "There isn't a heartbeat." I said, "What?!? IS or IS NOT?!?" She said, "IS"!! Definitely "is." She then went on to tell me that the reason my nurse couldn't find a heartbeat was because my due date was wrong by one week. This meant I was early in my tenth week, not eleventh, which makes a huge difference in being able to hear the heartbeat.
Now, let me tell you what I went through in those 10-20 minutes between not hearing, and seeing my tiny child's heartbeat. In those few moments, I tried to prepare myself for the fact that I may have lost our baby. I tried not to "go there", but I did. It took all of my self-control not to cry, but I know I would have been unable to speak without crying. No longer did it matter that I had almost hoped for twins. No longer did it matter that a few people in my life had made comments about whether or not we should have had another child. I just wanted the baby inside of me to have LIFE. That was all that mattered. When I saw that heartbeat-a little "click" is what the heartbeat is described as right now, I felt like God had just given me back a child, and the joy that filled me was overwhelming. I could not wait to tell my husband that we were going to have one precious little baby, that his or her heartbeat was strong! And then, I received one more gift. My sonographer gave me two pictures. I was so surprised! I said, "You printed out pictures?" She answered, "Of course, you need pictures of the 'Little Bean' that gave you a scare!" What a heart for a mother! What a gift. I know, the Baby picture really does look like a bean-to you. But to me, that picture is a picture of an amazing gift and miracle the Lord gave to me today. It doesn't matter that his/her conception was ten weeks ago. TODAY, I was given the gift of life. I was given joy at the knowledge that I am carrying another Baby Truchon. Yes, I know, something may still go wrong with this pregnancy. But, TODAY, that is okay. For TODAY, I can rejoice that the Lord knew my fears of having another baby, made me face the reality that I may have lost that little one, only to show me how much I already love and cherish him/her. This Baby is NOT #4 in our home. This little one is little brother or little sister to NaomiRae, Timothy, and Titus-John. Beloved son or daughter to Richard and Tabitha.
So, I received an amazing gift today. The knowledge and ultimate understanding that I cannot wait for the healthy arrival of my child. As chaotic as the next few months will undoubtedly become, I cannot wait, and will always thank and praise the Lord for what He did for me and in me today.
Disclaimer: To those friends of mine who have lost a Baby (or Babies): I would NEVER even dare to think that I know the grief you have gone through upon the loss of your child. The very thought of losing my child scared me to my core, and that was only a thought, not a reality. Please know that I only described my thoughts to display what the Lord did in my heart.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
History
The one thing I really like about a blog, is that the only "Editor" I have to use as my filter, is the Lord. That being said, this blog is going to discuss His work in my life. Since Richard graduated as a History major, it seems fitting...
As many know, I was born into a Christian family. My dad, at that time, was a Senior Pastor of a small Fundamental Baptist church. I may be mistaken, but I believe that was actually the name of his Church (Fundamental Baptist). So, at the very tender age of three, I remember going into the kitchen, sitting on my daddy's knee, and telling him I wanted to pray to ask Jesus in my heart. It is my earliest memory, and although many of the surrounding details have faded, I do remember this moment. So, thus began my "walk" with the Lord. Not too many years later, I felt the intense desire to be a full-time missionary. It amazes me, looking back, and now looking into the eyes of my three-year-old daughter, how young I really was. None-the-less, I was sincere, and set my heart on becoming a missionary, and serving the Lord for the rest of my life.
Fast forward a few more years to the beginning of ugly adolescence. (Ugly for SO many reasons!) The summer I turned thirteen is remarkably etched into my brain. I felt so sick, so tired, and so thirsty all of the time. When I say tired, I mean I would go up TWO stairs (not flights of stairs, but stairs!), and would sit down and wonder if I would ever make it to the top. I remember sitting down one time, looking up at the flight of steps, and thinking it looked as tall as a mountain. (Honestly, no exaggeration!) Mom would send me downstairs to get laundry, I would sit on the couch and immediately fall asleep. That summer (August, I think), my parents took us on the biggest family vacation ever-Disneyland. Besides all of the awesome rides my young imagination could handle, I was thirsty. But, I was frugal. I remembered my dad saying how expensive the soda was, and I didn't want him to be upset by the amount of times I needed something to drink. I would save paper cups, fill them at the bubblers, and refill them at least ten times. I just didn't want my dad to have to spend any more money. FINALLY, in very late September, it all came to a climax. I went to school, and by the time first hour started, I felt like my chest was going to collapse. I felt like I was breathing with someone standing on my chest. My mom (who was acting Principle at the time), called my dad, and he came and picked me up. He sent me straight to bed-and thought I was asleep. As I heard him come up the stairs, I made sure to "wheeze" so that he would take me to the doctor. (I was never prone to lying, but I was absolutely desperate here.) So, he took me. The doctor checked for pneumonia and pleurisy. Nothing. As the doctor walked out of the room to check a medical book, I reminded my dad of something he said the night before, and told him to ask the doctor. In just two hours, I was an in-patient at Children's Hospital, with the brand new diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes. It was such a shock, I didn't really know what to think. But, imagine my dismay when the nurses talked with me through the length of my stay, and they said that the only JOB I could not do was a foreign missionary, but "Who would want to do THAT anyway?!" Yes, that is in quotes, because I can remember exactly how and what she said, and where she was sitting when she said it. The other "issue" was that I may not be able to have children if I didn't take really good care of myself. A complete and total "Double whammy!"
At thirteen-years-old, I decided God hated me. Why? First, I was a heart-broken thirteen-year-old! Second, the only thing I had ever truly wanted to do was be a missionary. God took it away from me, meaning He didn't want me, which equaled He didn't love me. Third, nothing seemed stable to me at that time. I was the first teenager in our house. My raging mood swings, coupled with the loneliness I felt at God's "rejection" did not yield peace in our home. I honestly wanted to kill myself, but didn't want to die, because I knew I would go to heaven, and since God didn't love me, why would I want to go be with Him? I know, to an adult mind, this seems crazy. To a thirteen-year-old, it was entirely rational. Unfortunately, my mistaken thoughts on God did not end when I was thirteen. Every year, on the anniversary of my diagnosis (September 26), I would mourn what "would have been." I never complained about the shots (up to five a day), or the blood sugar checks (up to six a day), I felt totally abandoned and unloved by the One I wanted to serve.
Fast forward a few more years. As an entirely motivated and frugal young woman, I managed to graduate college in 3 1/2 years with my Bachelor's degree, with a change of majors in my second year. (I never took less than 20 credit hours.) College was NOT playtime for me. It was time for me to get a career. Needless to say, I have very few friends, and very few good memories of the "good ole college days." They were work. But, I did what I needed to do, and got done. The summer before my last semester, my dad asked me what I was going to do next. I said I wanted to go to Word of Life Hungary. I had heard about the school on a recent missions trip I had done, and wanted to go. My dad, used to my travel whims and desires basically said fine, but he was not going to help pay for it (as he had paid for half of my college), and that I had to work out every single detail. Within a week, I had applied and gotten insurance to cover my insulin and other medical needs for the next two years.
The next year, I was on a plane to Hungary. I cannot fit into one blog the amount of things I went through in that one year, but those details are not for today. On September 27th, I realized that for the first time in nine years, I had "missed" my anniversary. That began the true turning point in my life, but SO much more was yet to be learned! The next two years were just filled with me learning so much about the Lord through Bible School and being in an international situation, where isolation was really the name of my game. God took me to a place where there were no Americans in my class (first time in School history), so that I HAD to spend time with Him.
After returning to the States, I got married, and God blessed us with a family (if you haven't noticed, #2 on the "nurses were WRONG" list). For twelve YEARS, I worried that I may never be able to have children-I wish I would have been able to trust that God wanted what was best for me! God's work was not done. My biggest stumbling block in my relationship with the Lord was my fear of Him. Not the "good fear", either. The bad kind-waiting for Him to proverbially squash me the second I got out of line. And then the biggest "Aha" moment of my life. Family Camp 2010 brought a speaker that (sorry for anyone else who was there) was brought by God just for me. (Ok, I'm sure God used him for everyone, but for real-big deal for me!) One of Pastor Jordan's final sermons for the week had to do with the Discipline of the Lord. Thinking I had this one down pat, I attentively took notes and listened to his sermon. He even used one of my favorite verses, Hebrews 12:11. "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. After it is finished, however, it produces a harvest of peace and righteousness for those who have been trained by it." I honestly thought I knew what this verse meant. Unfortunately, (Dave James, please forgive me!), I had never truly looked at the CONTEXT of the verse. "Discipline", here, does not mean the "heavenly spanking," but the daily discipline of training as we run the Christian race. Pastor Jordan pointed out that God does not sin, therefore, He is NEVER out for vengeance. He is NOT "out to get me!" God, get this, LOVES ME!!! I know! Crazy, right?!? I probably should have known this before, but I didn't.
"Accepting" God's love for me has been a difficult road at times, but the love I have for Him has multiplied exponentially. How could I not love the Savior Who truly loves me? It is SO simple, yet ultimately profound. Yes, God cares about my actions, but He also knows I am going to sin. I'm human. He kinda knows that. Just like we know that our children are going to disobey, but love them unconditionally regardless of that. I am tearing up as I finish this long blog because it's true. God loves me NO MATTER WHAT! Just like He loves you-no matter what you've done, or where you've been-or what you are going to do!
His love truly IS amazing. It knows no bounds. Stop running, start turning back to Him, and love Him, because "He first loved us."
As many know, I was born into a Christian family. My dad, at that time, was a Senior Pastor of a small Fundamental Baptist church. I may be mistaken, but I believe that was actually the name of his Church (Fundamental Baptist). So, at the very tender age of three, I remember going into the kitchen, sitting on my daddy's knee, and telling him I wanted to pray to ask Jesus in my heart. It is my earliest memory, and although many of the surrounding details have faded, I do remember this moment. So, thus began my "walk" with the Lord. Not too many years later, I felt the intense desire to be a full-time missionary. It amazes me, looking back, and now looking into the eyes of my three-year-old daughter, how young I really was. None-the-less, I was sincere, and set my heart on becoming a missionary, and serving the Lord for the rest of my life.
Fast forward a few more years to the beginning of ugly adolescence. (Ugly for SO many reasons!) The summer I turned thirteen is remarkably etched into my brain. I felt so sick, so tired, and so thirsty all of the time. When I say tired, I mean I would go up TWO stairs (not flights of stairs, but stairs!), and would sit down and wonder if I would ever make it to the top. I remember sitting down one time, looking up at the flight of steps, and thinking it looked as tall as a mountain. (Honestly, no exaggeration!) Mom would send me downstairs to get laundry, I would sit on the couch and immediately fall asleep. That summer (August, I think), my parents took us on the biggest family vacation ever-Disneyland. Besides all of the awesome rides my young imagination could handle, I was thirsty. But, I was frugal. I remembered my dad saying how expensive the soda was, and I didn't want him to be upset by the amount of times I needed something to drink. I would save paper cups, fill them at the bubblers, and refill them at least ten times. I just didn't want my dad to have to spend any more money. FINALLY, in very late September, it all came to a climax. I went to school, and by the time first hour started, I felt like my chest was going to collapse. I felt like I was breathing with someone standing on my chest. My mom (who was acting Principle at the time), called my dad, and he came and picked me up. He sent me straight to bed-and thought I was asleep. As I heard him come up the stairs, I made sure to "wheeze" so that he would take me to the doctor. (I was never prone to lying, but I was absolutely desperate here.) So, he took me. The doctor checked for pneumonia and pleurisy. Nothing. As the doctor walked out of the room to check a medical book, I reminded my dad of something he said the night before, and told him to ask the doctor. In just two hours, I was an in-patient at Children's Hospital, with the brand new diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes. It was such a shock, I didn't really know what to think. But, imagine my dismay when the nurses talked with me through the length of my stay, and they said that the only JOB I could not do was a foreign missionary, but "Who would want to do THAT anyway?!" Yes, that is in quotes, because I can remember exactly how and what she said, and where she was sitting when she said it. The other "issue" was that I may not be able to have children if I didn't take really good care of myself. A complete and total "Double whammy!"
At thirteen-years-old, I decided God hated me. Why? First, I was a heart-broken thirteen-year-old! Second, the only thing I had ever truly wanted to do was be a missionary. God took it away from me, meaning He didn't want me, which equaled He didn't love me. Third, nothing seemed stable to me at that time. I was the first teenager in our house. My raging mood swings, coupled with the loneliness I felt at God's "rejection" did not yield peace in our home. I honestly wanted to kill myself, but didn't want to die, because I knew I would go to heaven, and since God didn't love me, why would I want to go be with Him? I know, to an adult mind, this seems crazy. To a thirteen-year-old, it was entirely rational. Unfortunately, my mistaken thoughts on God did not end when I was thirteen. Every year, on the anniversary of my diagnosis (September 26), I would mourn what "would have been." I never complained about the shots (up to five a day), or the blood sugar checks (up to six a day), I felt totally abandoned and unloved by the One I wanted to serve.
Fast forward a few more years. As an entirely motivated and frugal young woman, I managed to graduate college in 3 1/2 years with my Bachelor's degree, with a change of majors in my second year. (I never took less than 20 credit hours.) College was NOT playtime for me. It was time for me to get a career. Needless to say, I have very few friends, and very few good memories of the "good ole college days." They were work. But, I did what I needed to do, and got done. The summer before my last semester, my dad asked me what I was going to do next. I said I wanted to go to Word of Life Hungary. I had heard about the school on a recent missions trip I had done, and wanted to go. My dad, used to my travel whims and desires basically said fine, but he was not going to help pay for it (as he had paid for half of my college), and that I had to work out every single detail. Within a week, I had applied and gotten insurance to cover my insulin and other medical needs for the next two years.
The next year, I was on a plane to Hungary. I cannot fit into one blog the amount of things I went through in that one year, but those details are not for today. On September 27th, I realized that for the first time in nine years, I had "missed" my anniversary. That began the true turning point in my life, but SO much more was yet to be learned! The next two years were just filled with me learning so much about the Lord through Bible School and being in an international situation, where isolation was really the name of my game. God took me to a place where there were no Americans in my class (first time in School history), so that I HAD to spend time with Him.
After returning to the States, I got married, and God blessed us with a family (if you haven't noticed, #2 on the "nurses were WRONG" list). For twelve YEARS, I worried that I may never be able to have children-I wish I would have been able to trust that God wanted what was best for me! God's work was not done. My biggest stumbling block in my relationship with the Lord was my fear of Him. Not the "good fear", either. The bad kind-waiting for Him to proverbially squash me the second I got out of line. And then the biggest "Aha" moment of my life. Family Camp 2010 brought a speaker that (sorry for anyone else who was there) was brought by God just for me. (Ok, I'm sure God used him for everyone, but for real-big deal for me!) One of Pastor Jordan's final sermons for the week had to do with the Discipline of the Lord. Thinking I had this one down pat, I attentively took notes and listened to his sermon. He even used one of my favorite verses, Hebrews 12:11. "No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. After it is finished, however, it produces a harvest of peace and righteousness for those who have been trained by it." I honestly thought I knew what this verse meant. Unfortunately, (Dave James, please forgive me!), I had never truly looked at the CONTEXT of the verse. "Discipline", here, does not mean the "heavenly spanking," but the daily discipline of training as we run the Christian race. Pastor Jordan pointed out that God does not sin, therefore, He is NEVER out for vengeance. He is NOT "out to get me!" God, get this, LOVES ME!!! I know! Crazy, right?!? I probably should have known this before, but I didn't.
"Accepting" God's love for me has been a difficult road at times, but the love I have for Him has multiplied exponentially. How could I not love the Savior Who truly loves me? It is SO simple, yet ultimately profound. Yes, God cares about my actions, but He also knows I am going to sin. I'm human. He kinda knows that. Just like we know that our children are going to disobey, but love them unconditionally regardless of that. I am tearing up as I finish this long blog because it's true. God loves me NO MATTER WHAT! Just like He loves you-no matter what you've done, or where you've been-or what you are going to do!
His love truly IS amazing. It knows no bounds. Stop running, start turning back to Him, and love Him, because "He first loved us."
Monday, August 30, 2010
"Bitter Bean"
What does THAT mean? "Bitter bean" has actually become a term in our house, to refer to a bitter person. It's origination has roots (shockingly!) in Starbucks vernacular. Coffee beans are actually found in a berry, that when dried, cleaned, and processed, produces the yummy bean we use as our caffeine fix (aka coffee!). But, sometimes, a berry will be bad, and the bean will become bitter, producing a not-so-great tasting coffee bean, yielding a bad (bitter) cup of coffee. You know what is "funny" about that? It does not take a lot of "bitter beans" to make a very good cup of coffee taste terrible.
I think God really knew about this phenomenon. "A little leaven leavens the whole lump..." (I Corinthians 5:6; Galatians 5:9). Have you ever been around a group of people, and there is a "Grumpy" in the crowd? It doesn't take much "grump" to make the whole group go from laughing and having a great time, to well, crabbiness. OR, (and probably more often so, unfortunately), you don't have a problem with something/someone, but the person you are talking to DOES. In just a few minutes, you go from not caring in the least, to being ready to storm down the walls of whatever you are now ready to blast! Why? How come we let the bitter beans win? I guess God also knew about this problem when He told us in Proverbs (more than once!) that bad company corrupts good character.
My Pastor even preached about this this past Sunday. When we are running our Christian race-the marathon that doesn't end until our last day on earth, there were three persons to be wary of-only THREE. And you know what one of them was?!? Yep. BITTER people. I probably cannot count on one hand the amount of times in just the past few months that I have heard sermons or random comments on the absolute catastrophic effects of bitterness. You know what a bitter bean looks like? U-G-L-Y. You know what a bitter person looks like? I'm sorry to sound rude, but it is the same exact word. Just like a happy person, bitterness swallows beauty whole, and leaves a wrinkled, sour, unhappy bean in it's wake. Bitter beans do not care how many cups of coffee they infect. Their job is to be bitter, and THAT is exactly what they will do.
The next time you drink your cup of coffee, maybe you will have the after-effects of a bitter bean. (Maybe the person who brewed it just brewed it wrong, too!) Or, maybe you will have a sweet, aromatic cup that refreshes you, energizes you, and helps you face whatever is left of your day. Make the choice to NOT be a bitter bean. Their legacy is short-lived, their fame is not friendly, and they lack the beauty that is awaiting those who make the CHOICE to, "Let go and let God." Do you have reasons to be bitter? Sure! I did, and it ate, and ate, and ate at me. It was relentless. And then, I decided to let it go. I didn't want to-bitterness has a way of making you think you have to have it, that life won't be fair if you aren't holding on to it.
Let me tell you, life on the other side tastes a whole lot sweeter.
I think God really knew about this phenomenon. "A little leaven leavens the whole lump..." (I Corinthians 5:6; Galatians 5:9). Have you ever been around a group of people, and there is a "Grumpy" in the crowd? It doesn't take much "grump" to make the whole group go from laughing and having a great time, to well, crabbiness. OR, (and probably more often so, unfortunately), you don't have a problem with something/someone, but the person you are talking to DOES. In just a few minutes, you go from not caring in the least, to being ready to storm down the walls of whatever you are now ready to blast! Why? How come we let the bitter beans win? I guess God also knew about this problem when He told us in Proverbs (more than once!) that bad company corrupts good character.
My Pastor even preached about this this past Sunday. When we are running our Christian race-the marathon that doesn't end until our last day on earth, there were three persons to be wary of-only THREE. And you know what one of them was?!? Yep. BITTER people. I probably cannot count on one hand the amount of times in just the past few months that I have heard sermons or random comments on the absolute catastrophic effects of bitterness. You know what a bitter bean looks like? U-G-L-Y. You know what a bitter person looks like? I'm sorry to sound rude, but it is the same exact word. Just like a happy person, bitterness swallows beauty whole, and leaves a wrinkled, sour, unhappy bean in it's wake. Bitter beans do not care how many cups of coffee they infect. Their job is to be bitter, and THAT is exactly what they will do.
The next time you drink your cup of coffee, maybe you will have the after-effects of a bitter bean. (Maybe the person who brewed it just brewed it wrong, too!) Or, maybe you will have a sweet, aromatic cup that refreshes you, energizes you, and helps you face whatever is left of your day. Make the choice to NOT be a bitter bean. Their legacy is short-lived, their fame is not friendly, and they lack the beauty that is awaiting those who make the CHOICE to, "Let go and let God." Do you have reasons to be bitter? Sure! I did, and it ate, and ate, and ate at me. It was relentless. And then, I decided to let it go. I didn't want to-bitterness has a way of making you think you have to have it, that life won't be fair if you aren't holding on to it.
Let me tell you, life on the other side tastes a whole lot sweeter.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Recognition
"Congratulations, Tabitha! You did it! You surmounted unbelievable odds! You achieved the award you have been desiring for so long!..." Yeah. If you are like me, this is NOT what you heard today. Instead, my home was full of the sounds of whining, crying, fighting, and if you listened close enough, the occasional giggle-or even an "I love you." There was also the joy of multiple dirty diapers, one of which caused me to have to clean the carpet-the lovely effects of an antibiotic on a one-year-old's sensitive stomach. So, when I unexpectedly received my very first "Virtuous Woman" magazine from my beloved Thirty-One, and read all of the promotions and recognitions various women around the country received for excellent work, it got my mind to thinking...
I would LOVE to be the "best" in my company, or in something, anything! I would LOVE to have someone come up to me and say they hoped to achieve what I had achieved one day. The glory and glamor of having MY name and picture in the magazine!! Yes. For a few brief moments I thought of how wonderful that would be. And then I realized where my magazine, as well as thousands of others would soon be-the trash. The only people who would probably save them are those who were featured in it. Is THAT what I truly desire for my life?? That's what my hopes and dreams are wrapped up in? Actually, no. Sure, it would be great to achieve some great things in my direct sales adventure, but WHY am I in sales in the first place? It is NOT to be superior to all others-it is to be a true helpmeet to my dearest best friend, my husband. Any commissions or monies I make are going to help pay off our student loan debt and move us closer to being in full-time Christian service. And, as those who are in Christian service will tell you-it is FULL of glamor and glory, right?? As I write that, a giggle rises up in me. No. My glory will come when (in this lifetime), my blessed children rise up to serve their God and Father in whatever capacity the Lord has for them. What an amazing blessing to watch one's children serve the Lord!! My future, eternal glory will come when I finally meet my Savior face-to-face, and He welcomes me into eternity with Him. If He tells me, "Well done," well, that would be glory beyond all measure, honestly!
So, now that I have revealed the pride that loves to rise up in my heart, I will go back to the home that has toys and mess all over it. While my children nap, I will quickly try to clean up, so that when they wake up, they can mess it up all over again. I will not moan over the nausea that gets me all throughout the day, or the fatigue that encourages me to think maybe I should just put my head down on the computer desk. I will thank my Heavenly Father for blessing me with three (and one more cooking!) wonderful children who I have the awesome privilege and responsibility to raise-and yes, clean up after. And, in some small way, I will know that my Heavenly Father sees my little bits of faithfulness, and "recognizes" them. Because, after all, when YOUR kids clean up and obey-you notice, right?
I would LOVE to be the "best" in my company, or in something, anything! I would LOVE to have someone come up to me and say they hoped to achieve what I had achieved one day. The glory and glamor of having MY name and picture in the magazine!! Yes. For a few brief moments I thought of how wonderful that would be. And then I realized where my magazine, as well as thousands of others would soon be-the trash. The only people who would probably save them are those who were featured in it. Is THAT what I truly desire for my life?? That's what my hopes and dreams are wrapped up in? Actually, no. Sure, it would be great to achieve some great things in my direct sales adventure, but WHY am I in sales in the first place? It is NOT to be superior to all others-it is to be a true helpmeet to my dearest best friend, my husband. Any commissions or monies I make are going to help pay off our student loan debt and move us closer to being in full-time Christian service. And, as those who are in Christian service will tell you-it is FULL of glamor and glory, right?? As I write that, a giggle rises up in me. No. My glory will come when (in this lifetime), my blessed children rise up to serve their God and Father in whatever capacity the Lord has for them. What an amazing blessing to watch one's children serve the Lord!! My future, eternal glory will come when I finally meet my Savior face-to-face, and He welcomes me into eternity with Him. If He tells me, "Well done," well, that would be glory beyond all measure, honestly!
So, now that I have revealed the pride that loves to rise up in my heart, I will go back to the home that has toys and mess all over it. While my children nap, I will quickly try to clean up, so that when they wake up, they can mess it up all over again. I will not moan over the nausea that gets me all throughout the day, or the fatigue that encourages me to think maybe I should just put my head down on the computer desk. I will thank my Heavenly Father for blessing me with three (and one more cooking!) wonderful children who I have the awesome privilege and responsibility to raise-and yes, clean up after. And, in some small way, I will know that my Heavenly Father sees my little bits of faithfulness, and "recognizes" them. Because, after all, when YOUR kids clean up and obey-you notice, right?
Sunday, August 22, 2010
The Beginning
Well, I have finally entered into the "Blogger's world." I am not so sure how this will go, or if anyone will even read what little things I have to write, but after months of thinking about starting, I started. So much has been going on in my life recently, that this may be more therapeutic to me than anything. On top of being a stay-at-home mom of three-, two-, and one-year-old's, I entered the world of Direct Sales late in June. As if this isn't enough, on our anniversary, I/we learned that the Lord had surprised us with the news that we would add to our family by the end of March. I thrive on change and a good challenge, but briefly wondered if maybe a little bit of calm might not be good. Adjusting to life with three was extraordinarily difficult for me. Sure, I looked calm on the outside, but at home, when I am just "me", "calm" was NOT what I looked like. My dearest best friend and husband is home and awake for an average of an hour a day. So, everything that happens in our home is done by me-not that I am complaining! He works himself to a dangerous point of fatigue so that I can be home with the most precious gifts that the Lord could ever give anyone. I LOVE being a mommy, but if you think it's easy-you don't have kids.
Before I enter into the many, many Spiritual blessings, challenges, and tests I've been through in just a few short months, I will close for today with a simple and entirely profound love note from our Savior:
"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
That verse may make more sense as I enter more in the future... (yes, a little bait to keep reading!) ;)
Before I enter into the many, many Spiritual blessings, challenges, and tests I've been through in just a few short months, I will close for today with a simple and entirely profound love note from our Savior:
"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord. Plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11
That verse may make more sense as I enter more in the future... (yes, a little bait to keep reading!) ;)
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