The Reasons

Sunlight greeted my pillow at 6:00 this morning.  I rubbed my stinging eyes a couple time, wiping away the residue from my tears the night before.  I've cried a lot lately and there's much more to come these next several weeks.  More change than my stability loving nature feels ready for.  I'd disrespected my husband (and in front of others) without even knowing it, but his gentle conversation with me about that last night wasn't the only reason I cried.  He was so gentle and loving in the way that he talked to me about it.  I was confused and honestly shocked at the truth of how I'd behaved.  That's not a common mistake I make, not something I frequent.  As I let my emotional overcast get the better of me he quietly reassured me time and time again that our marriage isn't, "theirs".  Our marriage isn't "their's" either.  "You aren't her, and I'm not him."  These marriages we witness.  Marriages we've seen fall apart after years of fighting to make it work.  After years of disrespect and lack of love and pile upon piles of hurt and anger and bitterness.  Ours isn't theirs.  I know that.  I know that truth, but it hurts to the core for me anytime I see or DO something that even slightly resembles a weak point in those marriages.  I steer far clear of it.  He does, too.  We are under no illusion that I'm the only one that botches things.  He knows that and I know that, but last night it was me.  It wasn't even THAT big of a deal, but it was me.  But the tears weren't just for that. Its just everything right now.  

  It felt later, so I'd figured I'd once again overslept my opportunity for solitude.  For silent time with my Creator.  For a chance to watch the yellow rays shoot through the branches reaching to Heaven.  

My husband sat, sweaty and panting at the computer winding down from his run.  With a chance to run on my mind I asked what time he had to report to work.  I had time.  Not much, but time.  

Rhythmic breathing a bit more labored than it should be, the soft pad of my thin running soles, the occasional warble or whistle from the trees.  The bay was glass.  No boats.  A hint of a breeze swept off the water - just enough to grace me with that familiar salty smell.  It was short, but delightful.  All shade, all under high arching trees.  All by the glorious, still water.  My mind entirely on the short few weeks I have to cherish this season of our lives.  The short few weeks before we uproot and pull away.  The short few weeks before Florida is no longer home.

We have great anticipation about the island.  God has led us there, he has gone before.  We've had out sights on a house that just yesterday we found out is MUCH more expensive than we had understood it to be.  More expensive than we can really justify paying to rent.  We thought it was within the confines of the pay we receive for housing, but it's just not.  Really not even close.  It's not the house at all.  It's the yard.  It's the fenced, beauty, tree filled, freedom giving yard.  Like our yard here.  I rejoiced that it would ease our transition.  That it would ease the boy's transition.  These boys that for the past 3 years have grown up in a yard full of possibilities, secret hiding places, adventures to far off lands - all within safe confines.  All within confidence that they won't randomly wander into the street.  They gather and mix and water and discover and imagine.  Nearly every day.  The better part of of nearly every day.  Like boys need.  Yards are slim pickins on the island, so I lept at the chance at the one we've been looking at.  There's so many "I want"s.  He knows the desires of my heart.  Thats why we ended up in the house we have here.  That house that I THOUGHT was the desire of me heart wasn't even close.  This one fit the bill perfectly, and in a market with rare opportunity for renting by the base he opened this one just in the nick of time.  Just when we decided that he was leading us to look outside base.  

I got that chance.  The chance for solitude, though short lived.  The run, the time.  The tallest woke up before the others so we sat with our juices and read Psalms together.  It was precious.  So rare.  Breakfast on the deck with the boys as the morning Doves cooed was refreshing and relaxing.  

It's all small stuff in the grand scheme.  It adds to life and character and emotion and strength.  It files down the rough spots, the parts that haven't experienced, that don't understand.  All these experiences he's giving me.  That he's giving us.  They are all still very "first world".  They are so painful and real in my heart and in my thoughts.  But he doesn't leave my side.  His hand is always clasping mine.  His heart always near to mine.  His gentle words always speaking encouragement.  He's written the end.  He knows why.  He knows how.  

He just knows.         

Paved Way

It was while the tallest and his bud were out in the pool in the heat of the Florida sun.  While the youngers smeared hot dog grease around their plates in a sleepy haze.  The tears burst forth from my tired eyes as I turned away from the little ones to hide my emotional breakdown.  The only thing processing was, "I just want it to be perfect."  And it's not going to be.  Her party won't be perfect.  It wouldn't have been perfect even if my printer hadn't just all the sudden up and busted.  Parties don't need to be perfect.  They need to be filled with love.  With fellowship.  That's what there will be there.  Love and fellowship.  The seemingly brilliant theme that I came up with just won't be nearly as obvious or NEARLY as cool without those printed things I needed, but I don't suppose she'll care.  
But I wanted it to be perfect.  I couldn't figure out why I was so upset about the printer road block.  Why it was effecting me so entirely. Why I felt helpless and like giving up once I realized thing wouldn't be the way I wanted them.  It's just.a.printer.  It's just.a.party.  

I'm leaving her here.  I'm leaving them all here.  They are staying and I am going.  We are going.  Our family is going.  It's not the party at all.  It's that I wanted it to be perfect for her, because this is my last chance.  It's my last one of her birthdays with her.  It's my last couple of months with these precious girls that have been my community.  That have been there for me in the thickness of the forest of residency.  The ones that I love dearly and entirely and can't imagine leaving behind.  A perfect party, a new purse to work on, a bunk bed to build, various things I spend wasting my time on, they are all distractions.  Distractions from reality.  Distractions from the leaving.  From the pain.  From the uprooting and moving on.  
I won't be here for her real birthday.  I'll be on the highway with the boys, somewhere between Grand Junction, CO and Valparaiso, FL.  
I'm missing the last two weeks of WOW Bible study.  What huge and tremendous spiritual growth has taken place for me through that ministry.  I am missing the ladies retreat that I so badly wanted to attend.  I am missing my dear friend's baby shower.  I am missing 2 1/2 weeks of precious time with these dear people that have walked through the last 3 years of life with me.  And then there's that last month once we get back.  And then we are gone.  It's going to hurt more than I want to know.  It's going to hurt to cry.  That cry that cramps the cheeks and dehydrates and leaves shriveled eye balls and swollen red eye lids.  That cry that clamps the tongue to the top of the mouth.  There's no sound, there's no breathing.  And then the gasp of air in a whimper, and then bear down and clamp shut again.  That cry came when we left those other places.  The leaving is just so painful.  



But then there's the promise.  There's the beauty in the spring.  The new.  The restart.  The unknown.  The paved way.  





The paved way.  How glorious is his paved way.

Awake his soul

My oldest, my first born, the tallest.  

What beauty transcends in the innermost depths of a soul and heart when light pierces the darkness.  When a soul awakes to find it's purpose, find it's meaning.  When a soul is opened and the Light changes it, changes it to be recognized and "called His own".  When a soul awakes to the understanding of "true love", of pure love.  The naivety of his young mind will keep him from fully understand, fully grasping the entirety of his Creator's love, of his Creator's sacrifice.  The beauty lies in the reality that his Creator doesn't require full grown knowledge.  He doesn't require blemish free.  "From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise..." Psalm 8:2.  
See that you do not look down on one of these little ones. For I tell you that their angels in heaven always see the face of my Father in heaven. 
Matthew 18:10

He calls them into his heart.  He whispers quiet and gentle words of promise, of peace, of redemption into their tiny minds. He draws them in.
   That has been my prayer all nights as he rests his head.  "Draw him close to your heart.  Show him glimpses of the promises that you have for his life.  For the beauty.  Help his mind understand, even at this young age, show him his purpose - to worship you."  

I sat and prayed with him, because I'm his mama, but he reassured me that he'd already, "in my mind (while tapping his head with his finger in a very matter of fact way) told Jesus he can have my heart.  A while ago."    


Thank you Jesus, for the chorus of welcome that burst forth in celebration of this child's prayer, of his heart.  Thank you for the beginning of his life as you intended it to be.    

I'm physician's wife, hear me ROAR!

I've been misdiagnosed.  
I've had a doctor call me a "little shit" because I couldn't lay still as he vaccumed the puss from behind my right ear drum.
I've had a doc (just recently) tell me quite blankly, "I think we can put that theory to bed" about me having allergies after the allergy test he gave me came back negative - This, even though I turn into a foggy, sneezy, itchy eyed, drippy nosed, Eustachian tube clogged mess EVERY TIME I try to stop taking my Claritin.
I've had 4 ENT docs not have a CLUE what is wrong with my left inner ear - I've been frustrated to tears with that undiagnosed mess!  
I've had those SAME ENT docs tell me that practicing a gluten-free diet probably has NOTHING to do with why my inner ear issue has improved/halted for the time being - because it "doesn't make medical sense".
I've had a doc blatantly NOT listen to me, for whatever reason.  Who kept diverting to something else he saw instead of what I was visiting for.
I had a doc tell me that I was going to lose my middle by 16 weeks of pregnancy because of a blood clot in my uterus.  He was wrong, and thats ok.  I praise the Lord he was wrong!  And he was thrilled that he was wrong!  
So, on I go.

This is not born out of saving face.  For me or for my husband.  It does not fully stem from hurtful comments said or written about my husband.  
The boat has been rocked and then finally tipped, and I write.  I write when the boat tips.
For all the doctors, everywhere.  
For all health care providers:

This is the deal.  I'm tired of it.  I've heard it too many times and I've wanted to write this post for some time now. 

I am married to a physician.  He's a family physician.  Otherwise known as a "Doctor".  
He's a D.O., not an M.D.  D.O.s are "Doctor of Osteopathy".  They go to the same amount of medical school.  They go to the SAME types of medical school (the difference is that D.O.s learn osteopathic (bone) manipulations (KIND OF like a chiropractor, for those that need a comparison).  They have more schooling in this regard, but that is neither here nor there.  

He is a FAMILY physician, which means he'll be paid less than the majority of other types of physicians.  Less than "specialty" docs.  He's known he wanted to be a doctor since he was in his pre-teen years.  
It was that day, that day that he visited Marty Stemwettle's (sp?) house and had chocolate milk for a drink treat.  Marty's dad was a doc.  Young Josh thought to himself that having chocolate milk any time you want would be THE life, so his desire to be a doc thus begun.  So he could be rich and get chocolate milk whenever he wanted.
So, yes, the initial driver was for the moolah.  

I have walked by his side.
I have watched him study through excruciatingly long hours of exhaustion.  
I have witnessed as he forfeited sleep in order to pass med school tests.
My boys and I have been the first hand receivers of how appropriately he deals with his priorities - us before school - us before work.  
I have laid in bed with him many a night as he turned all about in a heap of anxiousness about whether or not he made a right decision for a patient that day.  
I've driven with him and many times heard him randomly blurt out a diagnosis that he's just figured out.  Then he'll make a call, to tell someone - if it's urgent.  Or he'll rake himself over the coals that he didn't figure it out during the initial office or E.R. visit of the patient. Days later, MONTHS later, he STILL thinks about it!  He STILL searches for that right diagnosis.  

I've stood by and listened to him recount stories of senseless and untimely death that he's witnessed all the while knowing full well that his Creator, in whom he puts all his trust and cares, is still sovereign.  
I've stood behind him and supported his boys and his home as he spends ridiculously long hours with sick and hurting people.  Why, so that he can make the big bucks?  No, because he loves people.
I've seen the sacrifices that he's made during med school and during residency, why? So that he can make the big bucks?  No, because he loves and wants to help people.
I've seen as he spends 21 hours laboring down a DOP (duration of pregnancy) patient only to have her peter out in the end and not push, forcing a c-section.  
I've listened as he's prayed for clarity of mind and knowledge as he practices his medicine.  
I've stood by as countless facebook posts and blogs are written about "ignorant", "cocky", "pretentious", "over confident", "jack ass", "stupid", "self righteous", "prideful", "arrogant" doctors.  
I've listened as he frustrates over patients that he harps on, because he really DOES know the answer to help them and they just.don't.listen.  
Sometimes he doesn't know the answer, and I listen then, as well.  I listen as he mulls over and mumbles through the possibilities.  Why?  So he can get more money?  He gets paid the same amount whether he's right or wrong.  Not for the money.  For the patient.  For their life!  For their well being.   Because he loves people and wants to HELP.PEOPLE.  
DOCTORS HELP PEOPLE!
NO, they don't know EVERYTHING - but YOU don't either!
NO, they are not ALWAYS right!  But neither are YOU!
NO, they aren't all in it for the right reasons.  (But just because YOU have one bad experience with a "crappy" doc doesn't mean they are all "stupid")

I'm using words that I've personally witnessed.  I'm using words that those close to ME, to US have used to describe their doctor.  I'm using words that I've read that described MY husband, MY doctor husband.  I'm using words that have been used rashly, in an unforgiving and intolerant manners.  

They go to medical school so that YOU don't have to, PEOPLE!  
They go to medical school to help YOU!
They go to medical school because WE.NEED.PHYSICIANS!
WE NEED MEDICAL KNOWLEDGE!

NO, my husband is NOT a perfect doctor!
NO, he doesn't know everything.
NO, he hasn't been without a misdiagnosis.
NO, he's not without pride.  
NO, he's not without mess-ups.

YES, he loves people!
YES, he's a God fearing man that is following the calling on his life!
YES, he is a God fearing man who loves his wife and his children without reserve to the best of his human ability!
YES, he KNOWS.A LOT.ABOUT.YOUR.BODY!  
YES, if you are NOT a doc, he probably knows MORE than you do!  MORE than that blogger does!  MORE than the facebook friend of yours does that posted that snarky comment about that stupid doctor and how they don't have a crap clue what they are talking about.

I've stood in the middle of conversations between large crowds of people where what I like to call "Doctor bashing" has commenced.  There are times that I grimace that THESE are the people that my husband has BENT.OVER.BACKWARDS to serve and help heal.  I grimace at times that he has trudged through ME.DI.CAL.  SCHOOL for these types of people.  For the crazy bloggers who have NO medical training.  For those nutso jaded facebookers that have NO medical training.  For the people that go RUNNING to the doctor's office anytime their baby sneezes or has red insides of their ears only to come out GRIPING up one wall and down the other about how stupid the doctor was that was in charge of their care.

Some doctors are a little wacko, yes.  Some PEOPLE are a little wacko!  DOCTORS ARE PEOPLE!
Some doctors act like they know more than they do.  Some PEOPLE act like they know more than they do (doc bashing bloggers!) DOCTORS ARE PEOPLE!
Some doctors misdiagnose. (I am NOT making light of that unfortunate fact).  Some PEOPLE misdiagnose things EVERY DAY OF THEIR LIVES!  DOCTORS ARE PEOPLE!
Some docs ARE a bit pompous and self righteous.  So are PEOPLE.  DOCTORS ARE PEOPLE!
Some doctors......and the list goes on.

DOCTORS ARE PEOPLE!


So step down off it!  Lay off them a bit!  Give them some grace!  Be grateful that YOU are not a half million dollars in debt and have the burden of medical PRACTICE riding on your shoulders EVERY day of your life!  Be grateful that SOME ONE ELSE has taken that load, is carrying that load so that YOU don't have to.  So that YOU have somewhere to take your kiddos when they are hurt or sick!  So that YOU have someone to go to to fix your busted up bones!  So that YOU can get your allergy meds and not feel like a gray cloud of misery everywhere you walk.  So that YOU can get that lump removed from your breast (EVEN if it's benign and it was thought not to be!)  So that YOU, YOU YOU AND YOU can take comfort knowing that SOMEONE knows.  That SOMEONE cares!  That SOMEONE has taken the burden of countless hours, countless YEARS of training (and CONTINUED training) so that YOU can feel better!
And if you DON'T feel better, if they ARE wrong, PLEASE remember that 
DOCTORS ARE PEOPLE!
They aren't perfect.
They aren't God - (and for the LOVE OF ALL THINGS!  PLEASE STOP SAYING THEY THINK THEY ARE GOD!).

They are THERE.TO.HELP.YOU!


I will probably look back at this and think to myself, "you probably could have calmed the hell down a bit about that". But for now, I'm done with keeping my doctor's wife trap shut.  It's time someone stood up for all these PEOPLE do for PEOPLE!  

Thank you.  

And now I close this off and continue to pray for my husband as he labors through his final boards exam.  Because he LOVES PEOPLE!

Intruder here - 3 a.m. tears

I feel like an intruder on my own blog.  I don't write nearly as often as I ought, and hardly ever when God prompts me to express something that is on my heart.  Computers frustrate me.  Writing liberates my heart, but the idea of sitting at the computer for an hour writing isn't nearly as appealing as...making something.  Making something holds more appeal for me than most things.  I suppose writing is making something.  It's making sense of thoughts. 
          It helps.  
That fails to motivate. 

I awoke from an uncomfortable dream at 3 a.m. this morning.  It wasn't scary.  Hurt wasn't present.  No one died.  No one was in danger.  It was just uncomfortable.  I laid awake for a few moments while my heart  found it's usual rythm, but I wasn't able to dismiss the dream.  It's real.  It's going to happen.  It's nothing monumental.  It really isn't that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things.  Just uncomfortable.  Something I'd rather avoid.  

Not our move.
It wasn't the tale of that.

My brain will filter that into my sleep soon enough, I'm sure.  It will be more than uncomfortable.  
That move.  Only 3 months away.
In the heat of the Florida summer.
In the heat of spiritual growth I've had here.
In the heat of intimate community we've found here.
In the heat of friendships with genuine and God fearing brothers and sisters we've found.

I've always been uncomfortable in the heat.  That's how this move feels.  Like being doused in the July Florida sun.  It hurts.  All the way to my inner center.  There's the promise of the shade.   The healing.  I will grieve the heat, hard.  But the shade will come.  And it will sweet like balm for my heart.  

He always protects.  It's been paved.  
He's there always.  He doesn't leave me in the sun.  


The man of the house woke up when I laid back down after paying a visit to the bathroom.  He looked at me without words and his mouth peeled back sleepily.  It was refreshing to see his face.  He leaned over his side of the bed and his face was illuminated from the light of his cell phone.  
"What time is it?"
"Three."


....................................

"God doesn't usually wake me up without reason.  We must need to pray about something"

"So lets"

The move.

It's soon.

He prayed.  

He prayed for preparation.  For my heart.  For the path to be blazed ahead of us, as we have faith it already has been.  

My turn.                             Heat and pressure behind my eyes and I squinted them shut, tight.  My temples received the first tears of my prayers.
My heart heaves and my breathing paces to catch up.  My temples and ears are soaked.  My belly tightens with every squint of heat and wet.  These tears hurt.  

The people, the support, the community, the memories, the comfort, the routine.  
It will all be gone.  Different.

Wonderful, it always is with him.  But different.  
I felt pain when leaving Colorado 3 years ago this May 11th.  I felt pain when leaving Kirksville, MO 2 years before that.  I felt the hurt when leaving Maryland 1 year before that.  The pain was there when leaving Laramie 1 year before that.  The pain was all too present and excruciating when leaving Covenant Bible College in Canada 2 years before that.  

This is like that.  Different, but like that.
Leaving Canada was leaving spiritual community like I'd never had before. Like I'd never witnessed before.  The depths of those friendships was new for me. The community that spread all over the U.S. and Canada after graduation was like a root being ripped from my heart.  

I dream about CBC.  On a monthly basis.  Sometimes more.  I long for those friends.  For that closeness.  
I haven't dreamt about it as much here as I did other places.  The community we found here was similar.  I didn't long for CBC as much here as I had in the past.  

A root in my heart.  I can feel it growing there, strong and thick.  Weaving itself around all the intricate parts.   The friendships remain, but cyber community isn't the same.  That root gets ripped and it hurts.  


I clasped my hands tight and squeezed out more heat.  Heavy exhales in between incomplete sentences about trust and faith and provision.  It's all orchestrated, but that hurt is so prevalent still.   Every gathering with my community - every gathering with OUR community - every sister that finds out we are leaving and laments while standing in front of me after hearing my words.  Every child care worker that shows a hurt heart at the thought of losing our boys    - the way they love them.  The way they have helped us with their faith.  
That root twists and digs further every time.  And it just has to be ripped.  

None of this speaks to doubt.  None of it speaks of "dread".  None of it speaks of fear - fear is an emotion not worthy of anyone's time.


I trust.   

I hurt.