My Top 5 Blog Posts in 2013

Well, well, well... another year has come to a close. In reflection and celebration, I am listing my top 5 Blog Posts that had the most views for 2013 that I actually wrote in 2013. All of them revolve around the health crisis event we experienced with my father-in-law essentially being in the ICU for four months. May they provide hope for the readers. Click on the titles of the post to read them.

 #5 Post: For Days We Feel Like Crying

May the words of this post encourage someone else so that they know that they are not alone. There are days when we all feel like crying.

Sometimes in this past year when I have felt like crying; I have wondered if it is left-over sadness that didn't have time to come out as tears when the crisis actually happened.

#4 Post: A Taste of Normal in a Sea of Unknowns

If your life has ever been turned upside down, perhaps you will enjoy this post as I explore how nice it felt one day in the ICU to see a bit of old normal in the topsy-turvy world of medical unknowns.

Learning to take the moment of peace when it is offered is a gift.

#3 Post: Stories of Faith from the ICU

In September of 2012, my father-in-law had a tumor removed from his brain stem that began a four-month journey in three different hospitals and one rehab unit.

That time marked our family. We learned deep lessons of submissions, prayer, neediness, and comfort.

This post is the index page for a series of posts that I wrote about the stories of faith that we learned during the season of my father-in-law being in the ICU.

My hope is to share the comfort that God gave us during a difficult time in an effort to encourage others for the trials that their weary hearts may be going through just as it says in II Corinthians 1:4, "so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God."

There is comfort. There is hope. At times, there is even laughter. Every story is different. The endings are not all the same, yet there is hope for every weary heart. Sometimes it's just a matter of finding it or believing it or both. 

#2 Post: Remembering the Right Things

After the crisis of my father-in-law being in the hospital for four months, he finally went to his own house. We began to experience some relief as he continued to improve. But it was a struggle to keep remembering how God had helped us in every moment.

Instead I was struggling with only remembering the hard stuff. I think some of that is normal to process the difficulties of an event after the fact especially because in the moment of crisis one is caught up with responding to the needs at hand but our souls need time to process the gravity of a situation. 

In this post, I spend time recounting a few of the memorable times of when people showed up and touched our hearts. Ultimately, that was God being kind even in the midst of sorrow and suffering

#1 Post: How looking outside my kitchen window taught me something about faith

Simple observations of the tree outside of my kitchen window taught me a lesson of faith. I shared it here. Not only was this my most viewed post that I wrote last year, it also had the most comments. That hasn't always been the case. I spent more time on this post than most. The response encourages me to spending more time writing and crafting each post. May your faith continue to grow in 2014. 

 

 Honorable mention:19 reasons I love my husband

I have added a bonus mention because my top-viewed post of all time was written in 2012 on our 19th anniversary. Honorable mention may be misleading since it has 10 times the views of my number one post of 2013. Hope you enjoy it. 

Happy New Year!

 

31 Days of Stories of Faith from the ICU {day 1)

Okay, okay, okay.... sometimes I am a dive-in, take-a-challenge sort of gal. Sometimes I make it. Sometimes that water you feel is due to my giant belly flop. Well, today I am diving into The Nester's Challenge to write for 31 days on the same topic.  For a gal that hasn't posted in a month, it seems like an unrealistic challenge-- one destined for a flop.

Yet, I feel compelled to write because the stories must be captured -- I must record the faithfulness of God to our family during our unexpected journey in & out of the Intensive Care Unit.

Last September, my father-in-law had a tumor removed from his brain stem. That began a four-month journey in three different hospitals and one rehab unit.

That time marked our family. We learned deep lessons of submission, prayer, neediness, and comfort.

I will share the comfort  that God Himself gave us -- through lasagnas, prayers, songs, costumes, annointing oil and many other ways -- to encourage you in the trial that God may have you going through for it says in II Corinthians 1:4 that He comforted us, "so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God."

There is comfort. There is hope. At times, there is even laughter. Every story is different. The endings are not all the same, yet there is hope for every weary heart in a trial.

May the words written posted on my blog and in the comments over the next 31 days encourage, inspire, and stir each of us to press on toward the upward call in Jesus Christ.

Come back for more stories of faith, family & fun. Bookmark this page because I'll link each post right here as it goes live to use as a handy-dandy reference guide.

{Day 1} Intro (this post) to The Clarence Chronicles
{Day 2} Breathing In & Breathing Out
{Day 3} The Anointing of Oil
{Day 4} Fun in the ICU? 
{Day 5} A taste of normal  
{Day 6} He stood for the Star Spangled Banner 
(Day 7) Seeing with new eyes
(Day 8) A cheerful heart is good medicine
{Day 9} God answered a prayer, just for her 
{Day 10} Spared from Sorrow Upon Sorrow
{Day 11} The Hardest Day or The Gift of Deep Submission 
{Day 12} The Gift of Deep Submission Part II 
{Day 13} Not my will, but Yours be done Part 3 of 3
{Day 14} Oh how He loves
{Day 15} Birthday Boys 
{Day 16} How things change in a moment
{Day 17) Is suffering worth it? 
{Day 18} Walking In the Valley of the Shadow
(Day 19} The One Thing I Miss From Crisis

 

Hospital gowns & gloves make a  fun picture!

For days we feel like crying...

Today my heart has been raw again. I have felt like crying almost all day long. My heart is tender. Another layer has been unwrapped. This hope. This nervousness. The anxiety. The gratitude. It is all mixed up together.

This stripping away of what is important and what isn't. I am so thankful for lollipops. He can have lollipops. Flavor in his mouth. A few months ago he was begging just for an ice chip and to go home. He could have neither.

Now, he can have ice chips. Lollipops and popsicles. And he is content. And I am so thankful that he is alive. He is breathing. His mind is with us. It is him. And yet, all he can have is an ice chip here and there. He can't even swallow his own saliva. And I am grateful. And yet, there is nothing easy about that.

I am not ungrateful. He is breathing his own oxygen. He is pushing air out of his lungs and the mark goes up. Two months ago, "it was stuck." But he didn't have the lung strength to even move it.

There was the middle of the night phone call. Being put back on the ventilator. The middle of the night phone call. The light on. Intubated five times. Finally moving from one hospital to the next. Wanting to hope that they could help. But...but...but...it was hard to keep hoping.

Hard to keep hoping when he would improve and then get worse. Hard to keep on hoping. And yet here we are still hoping. He is still here with us. And we are so grateful.

Yet, what a hard road. Intubated five times. MRSA. Pnuemonia. Tracheostomy. Wanting to die. Wanting him to wake up. Wanting him to speak. He speaks. He has woken up. He sends me email. He laughs at our jokes. And tries to do the chicken dance with us.

And today. I feel like crying. And crying. Perhaps it is for all the tears that my husband hasn't cried. We talk about how I cry for him. It is for the days when he thought he was dying. And the day he wanted to die because it was just too much. And it is crying because God has spared his life. And we can talk to him. And he can talk to us. And God has helped him be content. I've watched a man willing submit to what God has for him.

I thought we were submitting and the Lord would take him to his heavenly home. But that has  not been the road. So far. Not yet. As I read in Beowulf, "Death awaits us all." Not exactly comforting words but true. None of us know how many days that we have. And really we don't know how many more days he will have.

My father-in-law would type that he was ready to have coffee with Jesus.

He is improving. He is walking. He is working an exercise bike. He is breathing without oxygen. So why do I want to cry all day? He is moving to the next step of rehab. He is getting closer every day to going home.

Maybe I cry because he spent his birthday and Thanksgiving in the hospital. And Saturday is his 50th wedding anniversary. They were suppose to polka together. He is close. Maybe he will polka again. Maybe it is because he has suffered greatly. Maybe it's because he tells his granddaughter I love you.

I don't know exactly why I cry. Except that God is at work. He is making my heart much more tender. I am not bitter. I am tired. I am thankful for even this trial. God has worked so mightily. And I am overwhelmed. I am overwhelmed.

So overwhelmed that my heart can barely even comprehend the tragedy in Connecticut. I have a 7 year old boy in the first grade here in TN. And I can't even imagine the grief that is overtaking. My heart was already full right here. In my own world. I just can't even imagine the stunned, overwhelming grief that is being experienced there. My heart aches for them, too.

And so I cry.

* * * 

I wrote this post last December. It is 8 months later today when I post this. My father-in-law was recovering from brain surgery at the time. Three hospitals, one rehab center and four months after the intial surgery (and about a month after I wrote the original post) he went home. He still has trouble swallowing his saliva but he eats on his own! Plus he's been directing an addition that is being put on their home.

I still have days where I struggle with sadness which I believe is left-over from the last few years. Today is one of those days. But this post was much better written than what I can compose today.

* * *

May it encourage someone else that they are not alone. There are days when we all feel like crying. Perhaps it is just left-over sadness. Thanks for letting me share some of it today with you.
Love, Kathleen

Linking with Jen & Emily this week.

Remembering the Right Things

Kip & his dad, June 2012

 For the last six months I have been the keeper of medical information for my husband's family. On September 14 my father-in-law had a brain tumor removed from his brain stem. I have been tracking this and other major medical events that then ensued for him. This has been good. It has been needed. For example, going to my father-in-law's primary care physican to recount the history of the last six months. That was good. That was needed.

Kip's dad & Kip's uncle, Nov. 2012

But... have I been as diligent to write down and think about over and over again how the Lord has meet our needs -- my needs -- these past six months?

Am I recalling how we felt compelled to annoint him with oil after hearing a sermon on James 5? And when his pastor was asked, he said, "Yes" and how peace filled the room. How we were all blessed by obeying the Word?

Am I recounting how on a day when all I could think of was how weary I am, that a friend sent a card in the mail with a verse about being weary along with a Starbucks gift-card?

Do I remember how a friend texted me and made herself available to talk on one of those really hard days? I don't remember which one. But it was one of the ones where we thought we were saying goodbye.

Am I remembering how I arrived at home around 1 o'clock in the afternoon with four hungry children, an empty refrigerator, an empty pocket-book, and a friend called wanting to bring us lunch?

Am I remembering how someone brought a pork roast to my house, someone who had recently been in the hospital herself, that she put in our freezer and the very next night I would need food to feed my family and others?

Am I remembering how a child-less couple of 13 years of marriage found out on the day my father-in-law had surgery that they were expecting? She thought something was wrong. Instead, God gave them a baby after thirteen years of waiting. The news delivered to their ears on THE SAME DAY of the original brain surgery. My father-in-law's tenth grandchild would be delivered while he was still in the hospital fighting to breathe.

Am I remembering how a friend planned a birthday dinner when I had no energy to plan a party and she rarely, if ever, plans such things?Am I remembering how friends have said that I could text in the middle of the night? And how comforting it was to have them praying in the middle of the night when the hospital called again with bad news that they intubated him again? And sometimes they had started praying before I had texted?

Am I remembering how a washing machine came to my front door when our washing machine had been broken for over a week? Reminding me that God is seeing all of my needs. He will watch over me and take care of me.

Am I remembering? Not the intubation and the MRSA and the blood clots and the hard decisions but am I remembering His mercy in it all?

Am I remembering the answered prayers of an 11-year-old grand-daughter who wanted to see her grandpa but wasn't allowed in the ICU? She prayed. He was moved to a regular room for two days. She saw him. He told her, "I love you." He moved back to the ICU, one of many set-backs. But she remembers that God answered the cry of her heart, just for her.

Kip's dad or Papa, and Sophie, Feb. 2013

Am I remembering how he was discharged home on a Friday night? This seemed to be bad timing because everything medical was closed for the weekend. But we had nothing on our calendar. We stayed at their house for three days because my husband had a three day weekend. God worked it out so we could spend the whole weekend helping to get things set-up.

How many more details, important God-has-hand in this kind of details, have I forgotten? Let me not forget. Let me recount the many mercies of God. Let me remember how good and kind He is in the midst of sorrow and suffering.

Let me remember. Let me declare all of the ways He has shown His mercy on me. On us.

*   *    *

Linking with Jen & Emily.

What we've been up to this weekend

The kids and I made a welcome banner when we heard Papa might be coming home. I did the lettering. The four kids painted the banner.  It sure was touch-n-go even on that day. At least three, if not more, times we heard that he's not coming home. He arrived around 9 o'clock on Friday night. We have all learned a lot about hospitals, doctors, nurses, and medical procedures these past four months. We are still learning. Now, it is about home health care and how to nurse our loved one back to full health. We are so thankful that he's alive and now even closer to us.

Meagan waits with Grandma after a stressful day of waiting. Transitions and beginnings are so hard. We were glad that he was coming home but there was a lot to coordinate to get him here, which mostly other people do. We had to wait and wait. And sometimes that is the hardest thing to do.

T

In his bed, Grandpa made it! After four long months in the hospital, he finally made it home. One third of a year he has spent away from home, including three hospitals and a nursing facility. As Sophie said, "The last time I roller-bladed at his house, I was in shorts. Now it's chilly. It made me realize how long he has been in the hospital." It has been so nice to have him around this weekend as we learn how to do tube feedings, nebulizer treatments, and help him walk and other various duties. We can let him nap while we play a game or do a craft. He is always around us when he is awake. So nice for him and for us.

I love this shot of Papa being wheeled into the house. You can see his name blurred in the background. He has an amazing amount of determination and courage. I have learned a lot by watching him these past four months. I have learned about living a life of no debts, especially relationally. He has lived a life of integrity, a life of faith. He has walked the path of submission. One cannot always see the most valuable things easily.

In the middle of the weekend, Grandma taught the grandkids how to make Kringla, one of my very favorite desserts that she makes. They are baking as I type. Yum. Yum. They will soon be gone.

The kids have made Kringla, duct tape wallets, played lots of games with Aunt Kay, and rollerbladed. This is much nicer than hanging out in hospital waiting rooms for them. I imagine we'll be having more school days over here in the future to provide support for Grandma as she nurses Grandpa back to health.

Some napping has also been in order this weekend. Kip grabs a bit of shut-eye on the front porch in the amazingly nice weather. We have all had a lot of information to absorb about when and how to administer medicine and coordinate supplies coming to the house. Much to learn. Much to do. Plus, Kip has been night duty, sleeping near Grandpa.

A beautiful weekend. So thankful for so many things, especially loving family that supports one another. Linking with the Company Coffee girls. Join us for a chat if you like.

A year ago

Our Christmas 2012 photo: the six of us on vacation this summer. 

A year ago--almost to the day--I slipped on a step, twisted my knee, and needed rehab. No surgery needed, no exciting story to tell, just four months of physical therapy. That was December 27th, 2011.

Then, on the first Sunday of 2012, way back in January but just a few days after my injury, my pastor's wife felt compelled to read a devotional to the congregation. It was about how the Shepherd breaks the leg of  a sheep that wanders so that it learns to stay close to the Shepherd instead of wandering off all of the time.

It struck a chord with me even though I didn't feel like I had been wandering. Yet, my leg was wounded. I had a knee brace, crutches, and was arranging to have an MRI taken. Though I didn't know what it was, I had that sense it was a word from the Lord for me and so I trusted that in time it would be revealed how I had been wandering off.

Now, as I reflect on the year of 2012, I see that the Lord needed to draw me close to His heart for those  months. It wasn't due to sin & rebellion but rather it was preparation for future paths. I would desperately need easy recognition of His voice in the days ahead.

Without any official training, we would become foster parents for nine weeks. For a little over three weeks, we had eight children, for an additional five or so weeks we had five kids. It was an education on many levels. The most important lesson being about the provision of God. He sustains and works through me even when there is nothing left. Truly, that is when His best work usually occurs: when there is nothing left of me. At the very least I recognize it better because I know it definitely isn't me.

In the summertime, we had a small reprieve from unusual circumstances in which we crammed in as much fun as possible. Then, we returned to another crisis -- my father-in-law in the hospital trying to breathe after brain surgery to remove a non-cancerous tumor. It has been 15 weeks, over three months. There has been healing and hope in the midst of many setbacks.

What I didn't know in January is how much I would need the Lord and how drained and empty I would feel by the time October rolled around. That was only six weeks into a still on-going trial. How hard it has been to remain daily in the Word. How hard it has been to remember to pray before meals This is from childhood, folks! I grew up giving thanks before every meal. It's what we do. It's kind of like forgetting to brush your teeth. (Now that I say that I have forgotten that a time or two, as well, but not nearly as often as giving thanks.) How could it be that I have forgotten my way in this?

The Lord is kind, gracious, and forgiving. I'm glad that I have been reminded of where I was in December of last year and all that He has brought my family and I through. He goes before us and behind us. I am so thankful. He gives friends and family to support and some really great memories mixed in with the hard stuff. He loves us. He heals us. He takes us through trials. He grows us.

May I stay close to the Shepherd always, no matter the circumstance.

* * *

How about you? Have you gotten caught up in end-of-year reflections? 

Any insight you want to share?

When coca-cola made me cry...

Fulfilled Longing

He had been silent for four weeks.
 And then he spoke.

He said, "Coca-cola"
Because that's what the speech therapist told him to say.

And I cried.
I wanted to weep.
Instead tears ran down my cheeks.

He spoke. Emotion erupted from my eyes. I didn't know how much I had been longing for him to speak again. Until those tears came streaming down.

Proverbs 13:12 says:
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life."

Silent tears giving testimony to a longing fulfilled. May he -- my father-in-law -- who is still in the hospital battling to clear his lungs speak ever, clearer and clearer.

* * * 

Have you been startled by the intensity of a longing fulfilled?

Linking also with Jen at SDG sisters and Emily at Imperfect Prose

Siblings round the table at day's end

Siblings 'round the table
At day's end
Many years since it's been
Just us

Wives, husbands, kids
Usually
Take their place around the table

But not tonight

Not at the end of this day
Nor at the end of that day
Both days
Breathing has been labored

And we gather

Because breath and life have been a struggle
In & out
Out & in
Labored & heavy

It is just the siblings here now
Children grown enough
To leave the adults
At the table
No in-laws either
They are busy taking care of other things

Just us

Gathered at the table
At the end of the waiting day
The miles apart
Have lessened

The tubes
The struggling of breath
The need for cheering one another's hearts
That comes by being in this loss
Together

Together
Around the table
Where we fought about whose turn it
Was to do the dishes
And we teased and scolded
And ate many meals
Siblings only
Just like the days of old

Except now
The battle is for life and breath

We wish it wasn't the suffering
That brought us here
Yet, we are
Together again as
Siblings round the table
At days end

* * *
Linking with Emily at Imperfect Prose.

On holding hands and telling stories

They sat together today. He in the chair. She on the bed. She held his hand. She told him about the grandchildren opening the trunk of costumes out in the barn. And the hours of fun the children had trying on costumes and looking at the mirror. And he smiled and laughed (a silent laugh but a laugh none-the-less). She told him how they caught a mole. And how Sophie held it. And how it had paws like shovels and silky fur. And he smiled and laughed some more.

 She asked him if he'll be able to polka in November when the kids come for Thanksgiving to celebrate their 50th wedding anniversary. He shrugged his shoulders.

We cheered when he sat in a chair today because it has been days and days and days since he sat in a chair. And the Occupational Therapist had him shrug his shoulders today. Perhaps that's why he was good at that.

He asked her to massage his arms. And she did. So lovingly. Together almost fifty years. Their oneness evidenced by me in the hospital today. Invited and welcomed to be there.

And we are thankful that he breathes today. Better than yesterday.

Thankful for today.
Thankful that he breathes.
Thankful that he communicates.
Thankful she held his hand and they shared life together today.
Thankful for a story about costumes and moles during a long hospital ICU stay.

Maybe more of my time should be spent holding hands and telling stories.
Creating more margin for the real space of real life to take place.

I am thankful for today, even though he is still in ICU, even though it has been longer than 30 days.
Amen.

* * *

What are you thankful for today?

Linking with Ann, Jen and Emily this week.