"Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring." ~Proverbs 27:1

It was Friday morning, and nothing this week had gone according to plan . . . absolutely NOTHING.  The latest "hitch" in the plans involved Sarah - she was scheduled to have her wisdom teeth removed the previous day, but she came down with a stomach virus, and had to reschedule.  I was in Houston to help her post-op, and instead, helped her deal with the sickies!  But she was feeling better, so I decided to go on home.

I left Houston about 8:30 a.m., with my GPS pointing me home.  As I drove north on I-45, I was mentally going through my list of what I would do once I got home, and for the remainder of the weekend.  Around Huntsville, my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by my phone, and I smiled when I saw it was Caleb calling - phone calls with him are always fun!  "Hey, Bud - what's up?"  I said, expecting to hear his happy, familiar, "Heeeyyy!!" on the other end.  Instead, I was greeted with a son in distress.  He had woken up moments earlier to excruciating pain, which was obvious in his voice as he called me  to see what he should do.  I quickly pulled over, got a little more information from him, and told him to get to the ER immediately.  I then called Jeff to tell him what was going on, and re-routed my GPS to College Station.  It told me I was 56 minutes away.

I may or may not have driven the speed limit, and the next hour was filled with anxiety.  Caleb's roommate got him to the ER, and after doctors evaluated him, I received a text message telling me that they would confirm Caleb's diagnosis with an ultrasound, and then "take him immediately into surgery."  I may or may not have pushed the gas pedal a little closer to the floor at that point.  

I arrived at the hospital, and found Caleb much more relaxed and comfortable than when I had spoken with him on the phone, thanks to a heavy dose of Morphine.  Soon after I arrived, they took him to surgery, and I settled in at the surgical waiting room, still reeling from the sudden change in plans, as I began processing what was happening.  My thoughts were interrupted by one of Caleb's friends - he had heard about the emergency, and came to check on things.  He kindly sat with me, shooting the breeze, and helping to pass the time.  Others soon showed up as well, making the two hours in that waiting room go by much more quickly.  Jeff arrived just as the surgery was ending.  Everything went well, the surgery was successful, and after on overnight stay in the hospital, Caleb was able to go home.  He will miss a week of classes, and is dealing with post-op pain, but the worst is over.

Through these events, I was reminded of several things that I already knew, but there is value in reminders:

1. We never know what a day will bring.  James cautions us in James 4 about making plans, and reminds us that "You do not know what your life will be like tomorrow."  He instructs us that as we make our plans, we should do so with the attitude of "if the Lord wills..."  When I left Houston Friday morning with a head full of plans, I had no idea that I would be sitting in a hospital surgical waiting room a few hours later, praying for my son.  
2. Technology can be a blessing.  Without my cell phone and my GPS, Not only would I not have known about Caleb's problem, but I would not have been able to figure out how to get to him quickly.
3. Access to good health care should not be taken for granted.  From the moment Caleb arrived at the ER until he left the hospital, he was surrounded by professionals who knew what they were doing.  They provided him with the best care he could receive in a timely manner.
4. Being a part of God's family is priceless.  From the first moment of Caleb's distress, our needs were met by other Christians without hesitation.  Caleb's roommate got him to the ER, stayed with him, and kept us updated on what was happening until I could get there.  Caleb's ER doctor was a Christian from the congregation where Caleb worships, and his presence was comforting. Other Christians from the Twin City church - young and old alike - came by, called, and texted to express their desire to help.  Our brethren at home prayed for him (and us), and kept in touch to let us know that.  Others from Twin City opened their home to us so that Jeff and I would have a place to stay.  This weekend I saw John 13:34-35 in action, and I am once again so very thankful for our brethren - what a blessing.  
5. God's providence is at work in our lives.  Sarah's initial wisdom teeth extraction appointment led me to be in Houston.  Her stomach virus, which prompted cancellation, caused me to cut my Houston stay short and head home on Friday morning.  Because of those circumstances, I was less than an hour away from Caleb when his distress began.  If I had been at home, I would not have made it to College Station before they took him to surgery.  I'm thankful for those unusual events that put me in Huntsville at that moment in time.  
6. God's love is unfathomable.  Every mother knows the feelings I had on Friday.  There is no way to describe that, and no words can adequately express a mother's love for her child.  And to think that God loves Caleb more than I do is absolutely mind-blowing.  But He does!  And consider also that God loves all of us enough to sacrifice HIS Son for His creation who rebelled against Him - that boggles the mind.  Go read Romans 5.  God wants us to love as He loves, and these thoughts help me to see that I have a long way to go.

I have more plans today and for the week to come.  But I will have more of a James 4 and Proverbs 27 attitude and awareness as I go about my week than perhaps I did last week.  And I will try to keep that awareness in the weeks to come.  I hope you will, too.

Left: Caleb post-op, while high on pain killers :)  Right:  Thankful to have him at home.

"Nothing is worth more than this day." ~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I am writing a book, and this morning I am beginning page 17,727.  I have no idea how many pages I have left to write, or how this story will end.  For all I know, the book might be completed today, or it might go on for another few thousand pages.  Some of the pages I have written are exciting, some are fun to read, and a few are very sad.  Others are, quite frankly, embarrassing. There are some parts of this story I would like to re-write, but the pages I have written are not open to editing or removal.  

As I flip back through the previously written pages, I see a LOT of love, a lot of wonderful people, and a lot of good times.  But I also see a few bad characters, and some hurtful times - times when the main character has been hurt, but more often when the protagonist has done the hurting.  Some pages are so full that the print has to be miniature so that reading it requires a magnifying glass.  Other pages are mostly empty and boring.  

In Revelation 20:11 -15, we have the great judgment scene, and in verse 12, John writes:  "And I saw the dead, the great and the small, standing before the throne, and books were opened; and another book was opened, which is the book of life; and the dead were judged from the things which were written in the books, according to their deeds."

As I read that passage recently, I was reminded that we are all writing a book.  If each page corresponds to a day in my life, I have completely written 17,726 pages, and I'm beginning page 17,727 right now.  This book, according to Revelation 20:12, is pretty important. It contains all of the deeds I have ever done, and on the day of judgment, God will have my book opened, along with the book of life, and I will be judged by those deeds that are written in my book.  Pretty sobering stuff.  And those thoughts make me even more thankful for the forgiveness I have through Christ, and for His blood which has cleansed the pages I regret.

The other day I stumbled across this blog, and it deeply moved me.  It was written by a 36-year-old mother of two, as she chronicled her fight with colon cancer.  Her last entry was written in her final days, and posted there by her husband on the day she died.  She doesn't give any kind of spiritual perspective, but she does give some good advice for living each day to the fullest.  I would encourage you to read it.

This morning when I woke up, I started the day with a blank page in front of me.  And as the hours tick away, I will fill it up.  So will you.  What will be on today's page of your life?  Will you put off visiting someone who might need some encouragement?  What about Bible study and prayer?  Do I need to make something right between me and my God?  Or between me and someone else?  Will today's page be filled with service to others, or will it be filled with the personal pronouns "I" and "me"?  What about your family?  Will today's page weigh heavily on time in front of a screen, or will it be written of laughter and memories made with your precious ones?  And then you have your friends - those people who are closest to you in life - the "family" you choose for yourself.  Have I lost touch?  If page 17,727 is the very last page of my book, will I regret that I did not reconnect with someone dear to me?  That I did not write, "I love you" on that page?  

So now, I turn page 17,726 face down, as I reveal the clean, pure, unwritten page 17,727.  What a blessing.  I hope from now on, how ever many pages might be left for me to write, I can consciously think of my days this way.  And I hope that my last page - whatever number might appear in the bottom right corner - will be one that causes me to smile with the knowledge that I am ready to end this book, and begin anew in eternity.  The only way I can be assured of that is if I make today's page full of goodness, because none of us have the promise of a new page tomorrow.

Robert Brault wrote:  "Why be saddled with this thing called life expectancy? Of what relevance to an individual is such a statistic? Am I to concern myself with an allotment of days I never had and was never promised? Must I check off each day of my life as if I am subtracting from this imaginary hoard? No, on the contrary, I will add each day of my life to my treasure of days lived. And with each day, my treasure will grow, not diminish." 

I like that a lot.  My pen is in hand, and I'm off to get busy adding to my treasure.

"A daughter is a mother's gender partner, her closest ally in the family confederacy, an extension of herself." ~Author Unknown

I remember it all in vivid detail.  It was Thursday, September 20, and my morning began exactly as the previous 43 mornings had begun - yes, 43 . . . I counted.  At 7:15 am, Doris (my favorite nurse who worked the 7 am -3 pm shift in the Margot Perot Women's Building at Presbyterian Hospital in Dallas) came into room 416, which was my temporary "home."  She opened the blinds, gave me the daily weather update, asked how I had slept, how many contractions I had felt overnight, and began her morning routine of taking my vitals and checking the girls' heartbeats.  I liked that Doris always called my girls by their names, instead of referring to them as "babies A & B" like most nurses did.

While Doris was doing her job, my breakfast tray arrived.  At this point, I would look at the food with trepidation - due to the growth of the two girls occupying my womb, my stomach was squished, and my appetite was nil.  Doris noticed my reaction, gave me her usual speech about how important it was for me to EAT, and said she would be right back with my meds - my very last pill.

Last pregnancy photo

For six long weeks I had been taking Yutopar - 1 pill every 4 hours around the clock.  This medication (which ironically is no longer approved for use) had kept my contractions to a reasonable level, and had prevented our girls from being born WAY too early.  But on the previous day - September 19 - I had an ultrasound.  Dr. Weinstein said both girls were over 5 pounds, and looked good!  Even though it was 4 weeks before my due date, he was going to take me off the medication on the 20th and allow nature to take its course.  And take its course, nature did!  On September 21 at 2:58 a.m. Sarah Marie was born, weighing in at 5 lbs 11 oz, followed by Rebecca Lee at 3:00 a.m., who weighed 5 lbs 3 oz.

Seeing Becca for the first time

I think about these details, and many more, every year at this time.  The birthdays of all 3 of our children have always been times of reflection for me as their mother - I look back on the previous year, and think of their growth, their accomplishments, their difficulties . . . and my mistakes, and ways I can work on being a better mother.  I thank God each year for the events of the same week the year of their births - for the unique blessing that is MINE to be THEIR mother.  And that through His providential care, they are healthy and productive.

Our sweet newborns - Sarah on the left, Becca on the right

But this year, those reflections are a little more poignant.  Because this year, on September 21, the girls will turn 24 years old.  And on September 21, 1990 - the day they were born - I was 24 years old.  That sort of blows my mind.

As I think back to my 24 year old self, especially on the day before our girls were born, I see a rather selfish, very naive young lady.  These two little 5 pound blessings would literally rock my world, and change me in ways I had absolutely no way of anticipating.  Being a mother of multiples comes with a unique set of challenges, as well as joys, and through these two girls (and later their brother), I have learned more about selfless service, unconditional love, and vulnerability than I ever could have without them.  I've also been blessed to have a greater appreciation for God's love for me, and what He did in sacrificing His Son.  On the eve of their birth, my daddy told me, "they will teach you more than you will ever hope to teach them."  And he was right.

But this year, as I look at these soon-to-be-24 year old young women, reflecting as well on my own 24 year old self, I am even more thankful for them.  Even before they were born, they had different personalities.  As they have grown, they have displayed their individuality in their own unique strengths, talents, and weaknesses.  They are not perfect, but they both have a passionate love for God and a strong desire to serve Him.  They are miles ahead of where their mother was at the age of 24 in so many ways.

I hope the Lord blesses me with longevity enough to see them turn 48.  It will be interesting to see their lives at the point I am now, and to be able to make these same reflections and comparisons.  As every mother knows, I love them with a love that cannot be explained - not even to them.  And even though they are adults now, making their own decisions, with their own responsibilities and accountability, and forging their own paths, I am still their mother.  Yes, I am able to be more of a friend to them than I could during their growing up years, and I enjoy those friendship relationships with them immensely.  But I am first and foremost their mother.  My heart will always be so intertwined with theirs that I literally feel their joys and their pain as if it were my own.  Every mother reading this right now is knowingly nodding her head in agreement - it is an unspoken, indescribable feeling shared by all of us who are called "Mom."

So Happy 24th, girls!  I continue to pray for you every day, just as I have since even before we knew you existed.  Thanks for all you have taught me, and for the godly young women you have become.  Thanks for overcoming my mistakes, and for having hearts that have always been tender to godly instruction.  And most of all, thanks for making me a mother - YOUR mother - I will always feel overwhelmingly blessed and humbled by that role.

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new." ~Rajneesh

June 2013  (Photo credit:  Donna Cummings Photography)

"The road of life twists and turns and no two directions are ever the same. Yet our lessons come from the journey, not the destination.” ~Don Williams, Jr.

It all began with a little bit of bad weather.  Not widespread, intense storms, just a few thundershowers here and there.  But it was enough to delay our departure from Tyler to Dallas, and that is where it all started.  Jeff and I were heading to Minneapolis for a weekend of fun and relaxation that would precede a business trip, and we had started the day feeling excited about reaching our destination.

A slight delay, some minor bad weather - that would not put a damper on our day - no sirree!  As we sat in the Tyler terminal that morning awaiting our delayed plane, we got a text message from Becca - she had an appointment that morning with the oral surgeon who had removed her wisdom teeth a few weeks ago, because she was still having some pain.  We didn't figure it was anything serious, but Becca's text told a different story.  Simply put, she said, "it's infected - he has to open it back up, irrigate it, and pack it."  To me, this was worse than a bad weather delay, and my first impulse was to forget frolicking in Minnesota - I needed to go home and take care of Becca!  She assured me she was ok - she was headed to the pharmacy to pick up her antibiotic, as well as a prescription pain reliever.  But as we boarded our plane, my heart was staying behind, concerned about my girl.

Once we landed in Dallas, we had less than 5 minutes to disembark our American Eagle flight, travel from terminal D to terminal C, and board our flight from DFW to Minneapolis.  In our haste to get there, I tripped over a crutch that was sticking out from a seating area, and fell flat on my face.  It was not my proudest moment - in fact, I was glad that the people who witnessed it will likely never see me again.  I gathered up what was left of my pride, and we quickly continued on to our gate, only to be told that the plane we were ticketed for had just departed.

We found a ticket agent, who told us she would put us on standby for the next direct flight at 2:40 from DFW to Minneapolis, but that since it was full, she would also confirm us on a later evening flight.  As another buffer, she also booked us on a flight from DFW to Chicago, where we could make a connection to Minneapolis.  She said she did that because more weather was expected to roll in, and she wanted to "get us out of Dallas ASAP."  We hurried on to our gate where we were on standby for the direct 2:40 flight, being a little more vigilant this time to watch out for objects protruding from seating areas.  If we could get on that flight, just maybe we would make it to Minneapolis in time for the dinner river cruise we had booked for that evening.

Just as we sat down at that gate to catch our breath and examine bruises from my fall, I got a frantic phone call from Becca.  She had accidentally failed to completely close the door going from the house into the garage, and the dogs - Buster, our 15 year old Dachshund, and Brinkley, her 1 year old mix - had taken full advantage of Becca's mistake, made while she was under the influence of narcotic pain relievers, and they were gone - off on a grand doggy adventure.  Becca was wandering the streets of our neighborhood, looking for the dogs, and in quite a state of hydrocodone influenced panic - if you know Becca, you know how much she loves her little Brinkley!

Having visions of Buster and Brinkley as road kill, and feeling completely helpless as we sat in the airport in Dallas, Jeff called a couple of friends to try to help her, and fortunately Becca found the dogs quickly before the help could get there.  With that catastrophe averted, we were told by the ticket agent that we would not have seats on the 2:40 flight, so we quickly headed over to the terminal for the outbound flight to Chicago.  The ticket agent who had booked us on that flight had put us in first class - so even though we were weary both mentally and physically from the day's events, we were treated to first class perks once we finally boarded the flight.

We arrived in Chicago, and quickly headed to the gate for the connection to Minneapolis that was scheduled to leave at 6:53, moving a little more slowly as the soreness from my fall had firmly set in. But, guess what . . . more bad weather.  We ended up not leaving Chicago until 9 p.m..  Once we finally arrived in Minneapolis,  we were able to avoid the long line we saw at the car rental kiosk thanks to Jeff's "Emerald Aisle" membership, hop in a car, and leave quickly, arriving at our B&B at 11 p.m. - about 6 hours later than we had planned.  Needless to say, we missed our dinner cruise.

Even though our day did not go as planned, we had several nice little surprises thrown in throughout the struggles.  First of all, we were able to fly to our destination.  Air travel has become so commonplace, that we take the convenience for granted.  And, for most of our air travel time, we were in first class, where we had more leg room, wider seats, warm wash cloths, blankets, and a good meal on real plates - all as a "gift" from the airline.  Likewise, when Becca had her moment of panic, we had several friends we could call who were willing to drop everything to go to her aid.  When we landed in Minneapolis, our luggage was already there (probably many hours before we were), and we didn't have to wait for a conveyor belt to bring it to us - we were able to grab it and go.

We were very weary when we arrived on Friday night, but after a good night's sleep in a nice B&B, and an awesome breakfast the next morning, we were happy to be at our final destination.  It turned out to be a beautiful day on Saturday, filled with sights, sounds, and tastes that were worth all of the trouble from the previous day.  Then on Sunday we were able to gather with other Christians where we were edified by praising our God together with them.  The trouble of our journey may have even served to help us appreciate our arrival even more.

While thinking back on the journey of the previous weekend, it made me think of the analogy of life.  We've all heard that "life is a journey," and I believe that's true.  Life is full of weather delays, tripping and falling, bumps and bruises, getting back up, continuing on, painful procedures, concern over family members, lost dogs, and overbooked planes.  But scattered in among all of that we find convenience, comfort, love and support of friends, leg room, warm blankets, good food, and comfortable beds.  We find that the pain and obstacles along our journey of life are the very things that make us appreciate the sunshine and joys of life even more.

And one day we will reach our final destination.  Now this is where the analogy kind of loses its punch.  Because as beautiful as Minnesota is in late August, it cannot compare (sorry, Trish!) with the final destination I am looking forward to at the end of this journey of life - a home in heaven with my God.  1 Peter 2:11 describes us as pilgrims and sojourners here on this earth, and that's the way I need to view life each day.  So I will continue to take this journey with the good and the bad, thankful for both, as I await my arrival at the final destination - that home of the soul.

Go read Revelation 21 - 22.  The beautiful description of heaven in that passage is where I'm going, and I sure hope to see you there.  I know that no matter what happens on this journey to that destination, it will all be worth it.  And much better than Minnesota.