"For all the promises of God find their Yes in him. That is why it is through him that we utter our Amen to God for his glory."
II Corinithians 1:20 ESV
I'm sitting here with all our bags by the door. Danica and I are waiting for Dan to get back from getting the oil changed so we can load up and make the drive to Cincinnati. I have been crying all morning. Delaney hung on to me and cried when we said goodbye. She asked, "How many more times do you have to go?" I feel like I can't breathe. Can it really be almost two years we have been doing this? I've lost track of how many scans, how many hours waiting, how many nights in hotel rooms with heavy hearts we have endured. Did God really write this story for His glory and our good?
There is a song by Christa Wells I listen to over and over, especially on days like this. She was inspired by a quote of John Piper. "When Christ died he purchased for you the Yes to all God’s promises, and that includes the promise to use his sovereign power to govern all the inexplicable, maddening detours and delays of your life for wise and loving purposes. He is doing a thousand things for you and for his glory in your disappointed plans."
A thousand things. God is saying, "Yes."
Monday, January 17, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Puppy love
Over the past months so much love has been given to our family. Although you can read about some of it here on Team Danica there is really no way for me to tell every single story. It's easy to think sometimes that what we can do for someone hurting is too little, but I am telling you there is no prayer, no card, no email, no meal, no gift too small to be used by God. I believe we would not have made it through the last months without the drops of love from each of you that have become the tide that has carried us here today.
A special family in our church and school has lifted up our Delaney especially during this time. Delaney is the beautiful smiling girl who will always tell you she is okay. She is a bubble of life. Secretly, she still worries it was her fault Danica got Chiari and she has all the normal feelings an eight year old would have about her baby sister hurting but also about the many sacrifices we have asked her to make.
Delaney loves horses and began riding lessons after her 7th birthday. We simply could not afford to keep them up or continue to drive her every Saturday. She loves the beach more than any girl I have ever met. She still dreams of being a marine biologist. We were not able to go last summer and do not plan to be able to go this year. This is a very real loss for her. More than anything this sweet girl loves dogs. If you have ever seen her with one you know she is literally the "dog whisperer." We have been saying since the spring of 2009, when Danica was first crooked, that as soon as Danica gets better and doesn't fall so much and we don't have so many appointments . . . she could get a dog.
Here is the letter her friend Zoe wrote to her along with the special gift she gave her yesterday:
"Dear Delaney,
I was chosen my Mr. Knori to receive $20.00 for the Loaves and Fishes award for 2010. I know Danica is the one who is hurting, but I think it makes you sad too. I know you love dogs, so I think this money would be good to help buy a dog for you and Danica, because it can make you both happy. I love you Delaney. I hope Danica gets better soon. I am praying for you.
Love, Zoe"
Truly, one of the most beautiful examples of love I have ever seen. We are in a special place surrounded by so many special people who have loved us so well.
As I write this tonight Dan and I's hearts are very heavy after speaking with Dr. Crawford's nurse today. She warned us not to get our hopes up in any way about Tuesday's scan. The likelihood of Danica having many more weeks in the brace is quite high. She said it's like a beautiful new driveway that's been poured. It looks great but you can't drive on it yet. I know it's good for us to get our heads around this somehow before Tuesday, but we are so tired. Our family is so spent in every way. Please pray for us as we head to Cincinnati on Monday for our two appointments Tuesday. Please pray for safety and strength and grace. These trips never get easier. And please pray for our Laney girl who will be left here. Our Hope remains.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Wait
My dear sister has emailed me this poem by Russell Kelfer several times since my pregnancy with Danica. Each time it comes through my screen I cry, and I am humbled.
A week from tonight we will know if Danica's fusion is really happening. We will know if we can take a step towards a different kind of brace and perhaps therapy and walking again. Danica has been complaining a lot more about her brace hurting her. I think it's just bent out of shape some, and the girl has grown so much since she was fitted for it back in October. She is more and more frustrated with being confined and immobile. She is talking more and more about what she is longing to do when she can finally walk again and go places again and maybe move her neck a little.
Won't you please pray for good news for us next week, and if it's not for the grace to wait even longer if that is His gift. Our Hope remains.
Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried;
Quietly, patiently, lovingly, God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate . . .
And the Master so gently said, "Wait."
"Wait? you say wait?" my indignant reply.
"Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is your hand shortened? Or have you not heard?
By faith I have asked, and I'm claiming your Word.
"My future and all to which I relate
Hangs in the balance, and you tell me to wait?
I'm needing a 'yes', a go-ahead sign,
Or even a 'no' to which I can resign.
"You promised, dear Lord, that if we believe,
We need but to ask, and we shall receive.
And Lord I've been asking, and this is my cry:
I'm weary of asking! I need a reply."
Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate,
As my Master replied again, "Wait."
So I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut,
And grumbled to God, "So, I'm waiting for what?"
He seemed then to kneel, and His eyes met with mine . . .
and He tenderly said, "I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead and cause mountains to run.
"I could give all you seek and pleased you would be.
You'd have what you want, but you wouldn't know Me.
You'd not know the depth of my love for each saint.
You'd not know the power that I give to the faint.
"You'd not learn to see through clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there.
You'd not know the joy of resting in Me
When darkness and silence are all you can see.
"You'd never experience the fullness of love
When the peace of My spirit descends like a dove.
You would know that I give, and I save, for a start,
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart.
"The glow of my comfort late into the night,
The faith that I give when you walk without sight.
The depth that's beyond getting just what you ask
From an infinite God who makes what you have last.
"You'd never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that My grace is sufficient for thee.
Yes, your dearest dreams overnight would come true,
But, oh, the loss, if you missed what I'm doing in you.
"So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see
That the greatest of gifts is to truly know me.
And though oft My answers seem terribly late,
My most precious answer of all is still . . . Wait."
A week from tonight we will know if Danica's fusion is really happening. We will know if we can take a step towards a different kind of brace and perhaps therapy and walking again. Danica has been complaining a lot more about her brace hurting her. I think it's just bent out of shape some, and the girl has grown so much since she was fitted for it back in October. She is more and more frustrated with being confined and immobile. She is talking more and more about what she is longing to do when she can finally walk again and go places again and maybe move her neck a little.
Won't you please pray for good news for us next week, and if it's not for the grace to wait even longer if that is His gift. Our Hope remains.
Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried;
Quietly, patiently, lovingly, God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate . . .
And the Master so gently said, "Wait."
"Wait? you say wait?" my indignant reply.
"Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!
Is your hand shortened? Or have you not heard?
By faith I have asked, and I'm claiming your Word.
"My future and all to which I relate
Hangs in the balance, and you tell me to wait?
I'm needing a 'yes', a go-ahead sign,
Or even a 'no' to which I can resign.
"You promised, dear Lord, that if we believe,
We need but to ask, and we shall receive.
And Lord I've been asking, and this is my cry:
I'm weary of asking! I need a reply."
Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate,
As my Master replied again, "Wait."
So I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut,
And grumbled to God, "So, I'm waiting for what?"
He seemed then to kneel, and His eyes met with mine . . .
and He tenderly said, "I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead and cause mountains to run.
"I could give all you seek and pleased you would be.
You'd have what you want, but you wouldn't know Me.
You'd not know the depth of my love for each saint.
You'd not know the power that I give to the faint.
"You'd not learn to see through clouds of despair;
You'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there.
You'd not know the joy of resting in Me
When darkness and silence are all you can see.
"You'd never experience the fullness of love
When the peace of My spirit descends like a dove.
You would know that I give, and I save, for a start,
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart.
"The glow of my comfort late into the night,
The faith that I give when you walk without sight.
The depth that's beyond getting just what you ask
From an infinite God who makes what you have last.
"You'd never know, should your pain quickly flee,
What it means that My grace is sufficient for thee.
Yes, your dearest dreams overnight would come true,
But, oh, the loss, if you missed what I'm doing in you.
"So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see
That the greatest of gifts is to truly know me.
And though oft My answers seem terribly late,
My most precious answer of all is still . . . Wait."
Monday, January 10, 2011
Silence and solitude
"In returning and rest you shall be saved; In quietness and confidence shall be your strength." Isaiah 30:15
Remember when I mentioned Dr. Ben Carson's book Take the Risk in my previous post Stepping Stones to Iowa? One of the many things that stuck with me from that book was Dr. Carson's description of his single mother. He wrote about how every so often she would take he and his brother to a relative's house and drop them off for a few days. What he didn't know then was she was heading straight to a mental hospital to check herself in. She wasn't crazy. She needed to be alone. She needed to rest. I'll admit since reading this I have thought more than once about heading to a psych ward. I think these days the intake would take more life out of me than I have to give and they may involve social services and question my mothering sanity which would be a little counter productive at this point. Oh, and I'm sure insurance would kick me out as soon as I finally got to lay down and close my eyes.
When Danica's symptoms returned last April I began experiencing some of the worst fatigue of body and mind and spirit I ever thought possible. I started seeing a counselor, and I began medication. What I have come to understand is the stress of our long term challenges, lack of sleep and lack of general enjoyment of life have robbed my brain of necessary chemicals to stay charged. Since I was a child I have loved the above verse. I have always been one of those people who needs regular periods of being alone to be okay. In the past 16 weeks since Danica's surgery I have been with her almost ALL the time. I used to have Tuesday and Thursday nights alone after the kids went to bed and Dan was at work. Now he is working days, which I am very thankful for, but I didn't realize how much I craved those hours to myself. The time Miss Emily has been here helping I have been using for running necessary errands and making exasperating phone calls but certainly not resting or reading or praying or sleeping. I feel like the constant input of my children, my husband, friends, family, the internet, TV, facebook, blog . . . it all muffles the cry of my soul to be still and know.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I hear all the catch phrases about putting myself on the list and taking care of me first so I'm there for others, yada, yada . . . This all seems to point to selfishness of some kind, and I'm pretty steeped in the martyr life by this point. While working through Adele Calhoun's Spiritual Disciplines Handbook I have come to realize the desire of my heart to retreat and be near God is not rooted in selfishness at all. It is a necessary spiritual exercise to strengthen my faith and remind me who I am in Christ. I am not just a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend . . . I am a child of God.
I left my family Saturday. I went and checked into a hotel. It was so quiet I felt very uncomfortable at first. I didn't have anything to do. No one needed me. I didn't turn the TV on. I didn't listen to music. I was very still, and I breathed in and out. Adele writes in her chapter on Solitude, "In solitude we see how little we embrace our true identity in Christ. And we find the truth of who we are in Christ. We are the beloved, and God is pleased with us. This identity is given; it is not earned. Many other voices are pulling at us, seeking to own and name us, but in solitude we learn what it is to distiguish between the voices of God and the voices of the world."
I was renewed by my silence and solitude. I was reminded my family can survive without me. I realized how much God delights in my drawing near to Him . . . just Him. I slept for 10 hours without my body being half engaged in the possibility of someone calling me for comfort or a drink or a snuggle. On Sunday morning I wrote some hopes for this year. I prayed through them believing nothing is impossible. I reflected on God's faithfulness to our family and to me personally. I came away with one firm resolution, to make personal retreat a commitment in my life no matter what.
Remember when I mentioned Dr. Ben Carson's book Take the Risk in my previous post Stepping Stones to Iowa? One of the many things that stuck with me from that book was Dr. Carson's description of his single mother. He wrote about how every so often she would take he and his brother to a relative's house and drop them off for a few days. What he didn't know then was she was heading straight to a mental hospital to check herself in. She wasn't crazy. She needed to be alone. She needed to rest. I'll admit since reading this I have thought more than once about heading to a psych ward. I think these days the intake would take more life out of me than I have to give and they may involve social services and question my mothering sanity which would be a little counter productive at this point. Oh, and I'm sure insurance would kick me out as soon as I finally got to lay down and close my eyes.
When Danica's symptoms returned last April I began experiencing some of the worst fatigue of body and mind and spirit I ever thought possible. I started seeing a counselor, and I began medication. What I have come to understand is the stress of our long term challenges, lack of sleep and lack of general enjoyment of life have robbed my brain of necessary chemicals to stay charged. Since I was a child I have loved the above verse. I have always been one of those people who needs regular periods of being alone to be okay. In the past 16 weeks since Danica's surgery I have been with her almost ALL the time. I used to have Tuesday and Thursday nights alone after the kids went to bed and Dan was at work. Now he is working days, which I am very thankful for, but I didn't realize how much I craved those hours to myself. The time Miss Emily has been here helping I have been using for running necessary errands and making exasperating phone calls but certainly not resting or reading or praying or sleeping. I feel like the constant input of my children, my husband, friends, family, the internet, TV, facebook, blog . . . it all muffles the cry of my soul to be still and know.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I hear all the catch phrases about putting myself on the list and taking care of me first so I'm there for others, yada, yada . . . This all seems to point to selfishness of some kind, and I'm pretty steeped in the martyr life by this point. While working through Adele Calhoun's Spiritual Disciplines Handbook I have come to realize the desire of my heart to retreat and be near God is not rooted in selfishness at all. It is a necessary spiritual exercise to strengthen my faith and remind me who I am in Christ. I am not just a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend . . . I am a child of God.
I left my family Saturday. I went and checked into a hotel. It was so quiet I felt very uncomfortable at first. I didn't have anything to do. No one needed me. I didn't turn the TV on. I didn't listen to music. I was very still, and I breathed in and out. Adele writes in her chapter on Solitude, "In solitude we see how little we embrace our true identity in Christ. And we find the truth of who we are in Christ. We are the beloved, and God is pleased with us. This identity is given; it is not earned. Many other voices are pulling at us, seeking to own and name us, but in solitude we learn what it is to distiguish between the voices of God and the voices of the world."
I was renewed by my silence and solitude. I was reminded my family can survive without me. I realized how much God delights in my drawing near to Him . . . just Him. I slept for 10 hours without my body being half engaged in the possibility of someone calling me for comfort or a drink or a snuggle. On Sunday morning I wrote some hopes for this year. I prayed through them believing nothing is impossible. I reflected on God's faithfulness to our family and to me personally. I came away with one firm resolution, to make personal retreat a commitment in my life no matter what.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Don't Worry
It's been a long hard week. Danica requested one of her favorite songs this morning from my "For The Girls" playlist, Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds." We put it on repeat while she was doing puzzles and after she sang it through a couple times I realized I just had to record a little of her singing for all of you. Her sweet spirit and the joy in her heart challenges and inspires me every single day. "Don't worry about a thing. Every little thing's gonna' be alright." Our hope remains.
Don't Worry from DJ Snyder on Vimeo.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
How long?
It was Summer, 2008, and I remember sitting in front of the Panera in Fallsgrove, right across from Shady Grove Adventist Hospital. I had just been to see my OB doc and the pain from my blocked kidney was so excrutiating he was sending me home to pack my bags and be admitted again. The Casting Crown's song "Praise You in this storm" came on the radio. I cried heavy sobs as I listened to the lyrics,
"I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away . . ."
Just like that day, finding praise tonight seems almost impossible. Dan's back injury over the weekend, my MRI yesterday, the hours of arguing on the phone with Summa about denied coverage and crying to the bill collectors about how we just can't make any more commitments to pay right now have exhausted all my energy. I am not keeping up with Danica's care. I am frustrated with Delaney's third grade homework. I am like a zombie. I am so tired in body and mind and spirit. I am focused on survival and nothing else. On top of everything I fell down the stairs today. I tried to catch myself with my right arm and hand and really bruised my back and hip. It's too much. It's been so long. What if there's not a way of escape . . . ever.
" . . . And I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can't find You
But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away . . ."
In November 2009, right before Danica's first decompression surgery, I had the amazing opportunity to hear Casting Crowns in person. I stood with hundreds of other people in the dark at ABT and sang this song with tears streaming down my face. I was headed into another huge storm. I was asking the same questions about where God was in all I was facing, where could I find Him and the strength I needed for those days coming?
" . . .I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth."
I don't know why now but for some reason the culmination of all we have been asked to bear finally feels like it is breaking me. I'm looking to the Maker of Heaven and Earth tonight and asking Him one simple question, "How long?"
"I was sure by now
God You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say "Amen", and it's still raining
As the thunder rolls
I barely hear Your whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away . . ."
Just like that day, finding praise tonight seems almost impossible. Dan's back injury over the weekend, my MRI yesterday, the hours of arguing on the phone with Summa about denied coverage and crying to the bill collectors about how we just can't make any more commitments to pay right now have exhausted all my energy. I am not keeping up with Danica's care. I am frustrated with Delaney's third grade homework. I am like a zombie. I am so tired in body and mind and spirit. I am focused on survival and nothing else. On top of everything I fell down the stairs today. I tried to catch myself with my right arm and hand and really bruised my back and hip. It's too much. It's been so long. What if there's not a way of escape . . . ever.
" . . . And I'll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
And every tear I've cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm
I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to you
And you raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can't find You
But as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away . . ."
In November 2009, right before Danica's first decompression surgery, I had the amazing opportunity to hear Casting Crowns in person. I stood with hundreds of other people in the dark at ABT and sang this song with tears streaming down my face. I was headed into another huge storm. I was asking the same questions about where God was in all I was facing, where could I find Him and the strength I needed for those days coming?
" . . .I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth."
I don't know why now but for some reason the culmination of all we have been asked to bear finally feels like it is breaking me. I'm looking to the Maker of Heaven and Earth tonight and asking Him one simple question, "How long?"
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Pain Management (A Dan Post)
"The extreme greatness of Christianity lies in the fact that it does not seek a supernatural remedy for suffering, but a supernatural use for it." Simone Weil
The current pain from the herniated disc in my back is manageable. My back gave out last night, as it has numerous times before. I know that if I can make it to my bed and rest it will begin to heal. Monica took me to the ER today, and I got muscle relaxers, pain pills and steroids. The real pain hides in the sciatic nerve days after the back pain has subsided. Nerve pain in the leg is enough to drop any man on the floor in agony.
The pain of letting Danica go from my arms and into the operating room is manageable. After experiencing her first brain surgery and the numerous IV's in her arms over time and giving her over to strangers for scans and tests, one becomes familiar with this type of emotional pain.
The real pain hides in the recovery process, especially for a young family. We look at Danica and see how great she is doing, and how acclimated she has become to her confining brace. It's easy for us to forget what a big deal her surgery was and how vital it is for her to heal correctly. I often stare at Danica and imagine how things could have gone for us as they have for other families we know. (We know of one brave boy, Brayden, who has had quite a few struggles after two Chiari surgeries this past year, and he remains in our prayers every day.) There are no guarantees Danica's Chiari symptoms will not return. We feel the plagiocephaly that has formed on the top of her skull. We still see some droop in the right side of her face. We know our journey continues.
There is pain in watching Delaney who is so anxious for her and little sis to tussle again and dance to music. She is longing to go places together as a family and dreaming to squish her toes in the sand this year. She has been shuffled around for so many appointments and pushed into the background as we have focused so long on Danica's extreme physical needs. She worries about her mom who feels so visibly bad much of the time. She even heard Monica and I discussing the cost of going to the hospital today and brought her piggy bank in our room to offer her savings to us to help. This hurts.
Watching my wife's daily pain is perhaps the hardest for me. Monica is barely able to lift Danica not to mention carrying her up and down the stairs. (The stairs in our home have continually offered challenges for Monica, Danica and now me. One of our new year's prayers is God's leading to a single story home suitable for our family's needs.) My wife pushes through her pain every day and still focuses on what needs to be done for our family.
Pain is in the waiting and the not knowing what is going to happen. Danica, by all observations, is ready to free herself from the Minerva brace. We have no idea what the doctor will say during our next appointment mid-January, but we have committed ourselves to doing whatever it takes even if it means another six weeks in the brace. We don't know when Monica will be able to schedule another surgery for the endometriosis on her bowels. We don't know how God will provide as she remains unemployed to care for Danica and recover.
We do know there will be a "use" for this pain. We know God will provide because He promises He will, and He always has. We know we will ENDURE and cling to the hope better days are coming. Monica and I cast our wishing stones in late December hoping that 2011 would be a year of healing and rebuilding. We have to laugh a little that I ended up in the emergency room today and Monica heads back to The Cleveland Clinic tomorrow for her MRI. It seems there is no remedy for our suffering coming anytime soon, but we will manage, by God's grace.
The current pain from the herniated disc in my back is manageable. My back gave out last night, as it has numerous times before. I know that if I can make it to my bed and rest it will begin to heal. Monica took me to the ER today, and I got muscle relaxers, pain pills and steroids. The real pain hides in the sciatic nerve days after the back pain has subsided. Nerve pain in the leg is enough to drop any man on the floor in agony.
The pain of letting Danica go from my arms and into the operating room is manageable. After experiencing her first brain surgery and the numerous IV's in her arms over time and giving her over to strangers for scans and tests, one becomes familiar with this type of emotional pain.
The real pain hides in the recovery process, especially for a young family. We look at Danica and see how great she is doing, and how acclimated she has become to her confining brace. It's easy for us to forget what a big deal her surgery was and how vital it is for her to heal correctly. I often stare at Danica and imagine how things could have gone for us as they have for other families we know. (We know of one brave boy, Brayden, who has had quite a few struggles after two Chiari surgeries this past year, and he remains in our prayers every day.) There are no guarantees Danica's Chiari symptoms will not return. We feel the plagiocephaly that has formed on the top of her skull. We still see some droop in the right side of her face. We know our journey continues.
There is pain in watching Delaney who is so anxious for her and little sis to tussle again and dance to music. She is longing to go places together as a family and dreaming to squish her toes in the sand this year. She has been shuffled around for so many appointments and pushed into the background as we have focused so long on Danica's extreme physical needs. She worries about her mom who feels so visibly bad much of the time. She even heard Monica and I discussing the cost of going to the hospital today and brought her piggy bank in our room to offer her savings to us to help. This hurts.
Watching my wife's daily pain is perhaps the hardest for me. Monica is barely able to lift Danica not to mention carrying her up and down the stairs. (The stairs in our home have continually offered challenges for Monica, Danica and now me. One of our new year's prayers is God's leading to a single story home suitable for our family's needs.) My wife pushes through her pain every day and still focuses on what needs to be done for our family.
Pain is in the waiting and the not knowing what is going to happen. Danica, by all observations, is ready to free herself from the Minerva brace. We have no idea what the doctor will say during our next appointment mid-January, but we have committed ourselves to doing whatever it takes even if it means another six weeks in the brace. We don't know when Monica will be able to schedule another surgery for the endometriosis on her bowels. We don't know how God will provide as she remains unemployed to care for Danica and recover.
We do know there will be a "use" for this pain. We know God will provide because He promises He will, and He always has. We know we will ENDURE and cling to the hope better days are coming. Monica and I cast our wishing stones in late December hoping that 2011 would be a year of healing and rebuilding. We have to laugh a little that I ended up in the emergency room today and Monica heads back to The Cleveland Clinic tomorrow for her MRI. It seems there is no remedy for our suffering coming anytime soon, but we will manage, by God's grace.
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