A Reason to Sing

Last night, we had a serious wave of thunderstorms plow through State College. Mind you, I hate thunderstorms. At 3:30 am I was rudely awakened by a <<KAABOOM>> that shook the walls of the house; the lightning so bright, it illuminated my room. The wind howled through the canopy of trees, the branches cracking and breaking.

Until 6:30 am, the rain came in torrential sheets, quickly washing down our street. Needless to say I was awake for much of the night. Moments before my alarm was to go off, the storm dissipated. I lay in bed, prayerful; almost afraid to look outside. Then I heard it.

The sound was clear and distinct. “It couldn’t be…” I thought to myself, “not after all of that.” But sure enough! A bird began singing his happy song outside of my window. I was safe and sheltered in the comfort of my house. This poor guy weathered the storm - outside - all night. Where did he find shelter? Was he scared? Was his home destroyed?

His song so bright and happy it was almost as if he was unaware of the storm that just rocked his little world. All he knew was that the rain and ceased, the sun was rising, and he found it – he found a reason to sing.

I didn’t rise from my bed until I sang my song of thankfulness to God this morning. I have so many reasons to sing!

It’s official – I signed the closing paperwork and am an official homeowner! This weekend begins the move-in process. I have been so blessed by my State College family who has made this hairy scary process so comfortable. There is no room at all to question God’s hand in this – no doubt this is where I am supposed to be.

After I signed the papers and received the key, I drove to my new home. So thankful for technology, I face-timed my parents. Together (as together as we could be) we opened the door to my house. I dropped to the floor in thankfulness. 2000 miles away, my parents did the same. We prayed to dedicate the home to the Lord; that it would be His and all who enter will feel His love and presence.

I did it. By myself. This was a huge final step in my healing process. Over one year later, my storm has finally settled. I weathered the storm and found shelter wherever I could. I have a reason to sing. And sing I must. To tell of His goodness and faithfulness. To remind others who are still feeling the shake of their storm that the rain does stop and the sun is coming.

As my mom prayed, she referenced Noah on the arc. He had to do the unthinkable. When few others understood. He weathered a very long storm on that boat full of smelly, noisy, grumpy things - not his family, the animals! He spent 377 days on the arc waiting for the storm to stop. My mom felt that the number 377 was significant (God’s numbers always are.) After some prayer and research, she was right. There are 365 days in our calendar year – from 377 that is a difference of 12. Including today, if you count back 12 days, you would land on June 2^nd.  To you this means nothing. To me – this was my wedding day.

Going a bit further, the number 377 in the Blue Letter Greek/Lexicon Bible signifies rest. To recline at a table; to sit back to lie down. It occurs 11 times in the New Testament. Not to mention that Noah exited the boat on the 27^th day of the 2^nd month (in my world this is February 27^th – the day my engagement ended).

This might not blow your mind, but it does mine. God’s fingerprints are everywhere. We often ask for big, flashing signs and miss how intricately He has woven every single detail of our lives together for His glory and to simply remind us that He is God.

I am left in awe of the events of today and choose to sing. I understand that when your own personal storm is raging, a happy little bird is the last thing you want in your boat. Rather than letting it “ruffle your feathers” (pun intended) allow God to remind you that one day your storm too will be over. One day you will be able to enter in to rest - to have a reason to sing – just like that little bird outside of my window – just like nothing ever even happened.

Remember, one must make the choice to sing. We all have countless reasons - choose to sing this week. It will be a soothing sound of hope to others much like the little birdy was to me this morning. 

It Comes

Wow! I went from posting once each week to being lucky to post once a month! In following my last post, Healing is a Process I am blessed to inform you of what God has done in the past month.

I believe it is in our seasons of pain – when we have been hurt – or when past hurts bubble to the surface, that we most deeply call out to our Father. Last month, I begged Him to see a new wave of healing; a new display of His power in my life. James tells us when we ask things of God – to believe and not doubt. So, I did.

In the last month I have continued to remain in awe of how God continues to pick up the pieces that remain of my tattered heart and put them back together better than they were before. My Bible class worked through Henry Blackaby’s Experiencing God earlier this semester. He encouraged us that when we don’t feel as if God is at work in our own life, to look around and see where He is moving in other’s. I pray this encourages you to know that God IS at work… even if you don’t perceive it in your own situation yet.

 I was blessed to go on the Secret Keeper Girl tour again. We made stops in Louisiana, Missouri, Texas and New Mexico. In two weeks we watched 100 girls make a first-time decision to follow Jesus. Moms thanked us with teary eyes as the connection between mom and daughter was restored. Personally I was blessed to have my parents attend a show!

En route to our next venue destination, we made an afternoon pit stop in the city that was to be my home.  I have dealt with our hometown and the city in which we went to college, but I refused to ever return to where he was – where our home was going to be. Apparently, God laughed. Surrounded by my road team, we headed in on the same highway I traveled many times. Tears welled in my eyes as we drove past familiar restaurants, movie theaters, and the signs pointing to his school…

Then we arrived at the mall we frequented. I was determined to stay in the van to avoid dealing with the memories. Thankfully, Kelci pulled me out – together we went to the store in which I shopped for my wedding shoes. We made a new memory there. After half-an-hour of looking over my shoulder, I began to relax and feel comfortable. We laughed – I conquered. I encourage you to face whatever stronghold remains. Go in, hold your head up high and thank God for His rescue – for His redemptive grace in your life.

Upon returning to State College, planning for the Get Lost book launch party took up much of my time. An added bonus, my Mommy got to come visit me for Mother’s Day – thanks Daddy! We spent a precious week together. I am beginning to realize just how blessed I am to have the friendship with my Mom that I do. Many girls can not say the same. She attended the book launch party with me! Dannah spoke and I gave my testimony which appears in the book. Driving through the familiar city and dealing with memories, there was a rawness that I haven’t experienced before while sharing my story. A transparency almost; I allowed myself to feel. The result was healing for me and an encouragement of God’s grace for the 100 people in attendance. The night was a beautiful success – having Mom’s face in the audience was just icing on the cake.

 

The party over and Mom on a plane back to NM, I focused my attention on prom. Teaching at Grace Prep has been one of my favorite things this year! Planning and organizing prom was right up my ally. I have learned so much as a result of teaching. Girls, you are a blessing to my life! We ate more cotton candy than one could imagine and danced the night away! Chaperone Heather and DJ Blake had just as much fun as the kids did! 

In the midst of all this, I have been offered a contract with the ministry and am buying a house! The cost of living out here is still overwhelming, but the Lord saw my need and provided more than I could have imagined. It has been a scary process to do on my own! Some of you recall that when my ex-fiancé and I found a house, we drove up to see a rainbow over it (no joke!) When I received the home inspection in my inbox, I opened it to view the report. The photo of the front of my house had a ray of light passing though it that, on the inspector’s camera, created a vibrant rainbow in the bottom corner of the photograph… Isn’t God awesome at redemption? Kelci and I will be moving in by the middle of June and Jackson puppy will be joining us shortly! (My little sisters think they are moving in too!) 

There is no profound spiritual truth in this blog – just a testimony. Simple gratitude toward my Savior. One year ago I was lying on the floor of my parent’s bedroom in the fetal position wondering how life would ever go on. That may be where you find yourself today. My report is not to gloat, but rather to encourage you and give you hope. Believe that God can take your fragile heart, broken relationship, financial crisis, health scare… and in one year create more than you ever thought possible. I am living Ephesians 3:20 – He is doing more than I can ask, think, hope or imagine!

Beauty comes from ashes. Pearls come from pain. May my story encourage you to hang on… it comes. It comes much faster when we cooperate! When we offer up our hurt to the throne room of God – where He has access to our heart and our situation. If you want to hang on to it, you can. Just don’t expect healing to flow quickly if you are not ready to go to the Doctor for help.

I love all of you so much and am thankful for your prayers, support and financial provision. I couldn’t do this without you! 

Healing is a Process

I remember the feeling. I was incredibly dazed, but I saw the familiar faces; Mom, Dad, Brother, the Boy. Their concerned smiles brought safety and comfort. Then it hit… the excruciating pain. I had just come through a total hip replacement.

I will avoid the gory details, but still I must help you wrap your head around this. The shaft of my femur had been hollowed out to make room for a metal rod that would be jammed down inside of it. Screws and bolts drilled in to the bone in hopes that everything would stay intact. Then add a metal ball and socket that would become the new joint and two blood transfusions.... 

My body rejected the foreign object and screamed its objection through pain. Every time that wonderful blue light lit up, I pushed it knowing a small bit of relief would come in the form of morphine. I smiled back at them all and squeezed the hand that was holding mine and slipped from consciousness once again.

Dread consumed me the day following the massive surgery. I knew what was coming. It always happens. It has to. Two overly - cheerful physical therapists make their way into my room. “It’s time to get up,” they announce. Everything within me screamed in pain, the task far too daunting to even mentally process, let alone physically accomplish.

But, I have no choice. For my sake, I have to get up – I have to walk. Multiple people are on deck to help. Once I have achieved the painstaking task of swinging my legs to the side of the bed, they clamp two belts around my waist and establish a firm grip. Mom takes charge of moving the IV. Dad nearby in the event he has to step in to catch me. Brother and the Boy in the doorway praying and chanting encouragement.

More excruciating than I can begin to convey, they hoist me up. I bite my lip from crying or cursing! Excessively weak, I grow light headed. The room begins to spin. My eyes lock on the chair across the room. The chair that I know provides a safe place to rest. The chair that when I reach it, these two goons holding onto my belt will leave me alone!

I made it. I collapse. I pass out. I don’t know how I made it back to the hospital bed… that was Step One of the healing process. The movement began to awaken blood flow, which awakened muscles, which in turn, made me stronger. We repeated the process the next day… it got easier. The next day, I used a walker to walk to the door of the room! It still hurt, but the strength I was gaining soon began to alleviate the pain. 

Healing is a process. Which means it’s a process; it takes time. A dear friend recently told me, “Heather, you don’t have to be 100% healed in order to live again…” Where are you in this process? Are you acting dead in the bed? 

In June it will be three years since the hip replacement. Guess what? I am still in physical therapy! But, I am getting stronger. Muscles that haven’t been used in nearly a decade are coming back to life! What the doctors said couldn’t happen is happening! Fox 34 News in Lubbock ran a YouTube video about my story called, Young Girl Fights For Strength After Hip Surgery. People take notice when healing begins! They rally, they support, they applaud. 

Are you sick physically? Maybe you’ve taken a hard blow emotionally? It’s likely that you have a deep wound somewhere… I assume this because you are a human being. (Maybe except a few of my family and friends in Roswell! We come in peace!) ; ) 

The pain inflicted upon me one year ago is still raw. Yes, I have been able to get up and walk. Yes, I have regained a bit of strength. The stitches are still there. It hurts when you poke it. Some things cause it to throb and ache.

Often I am too strong for my own good. Rarely do I admit to pain. Right now, I confess to you that it hurts… gosh dang it – it hurts! It still requires a bandage. I cover up the wound when I go out and about. By the end of the day however, it needs to be cleaned. It needs to be re-bandaged.

Thankfully we worship the Great Physician. He is capable of treating our wounds with the most amazing care the world will ever find! And, He does all of this for FREE! We just have to let Him. I hoped for, prayed for and expected instant healing; of my hip and of my heart. That’s not how the Doctor wanted to work.

Have you also prayed for that wounded place in your life to be miraculously healed. Get angry when it didn’t happen how you wanted it to? Mad because you still feel as if you are in intensive care and not getting better? Does God work that way? Yes. Does He always? No.

I have reached the conclusion that sometimes He might actually want us to put forth a little

bit of effort.  We have to be willing to go through the healing process. There is so much to learn during that season! Often, myself included, we throw a pity party simply because it hurts. We refuse to get up. We cry demanding that the Doctor do something about it “this INSTANT!” When He doesn’t, we become angry and bitter.

Lying in that bed longer and longer only makes us weaker… There must come a point when we choose to believe that the Doctor really does know best. His goal is to make His patients better. This week, my heart is aching. I know yours is too. Rather than get frustrated and grow weaker, I encourage you to get up. You can do this. There is a chair nearby in which you can find rest.

I can walk. I can ride a bike. I can pick up my little siblings. I can skydive. I’m not still lying in that hospital bed writhing in pain. There are still days when I feel the pain, but I am not where I was before.

Hand it over. Trust the annoyingly-happy therapists that come into your life and make you move. Something like Heavenly magic happens when we choose to believe that God’s strength is perfected in our weakness. That He might actually choose US to make HIMSELF look good. Wow! What an honor we have! 

Your heart might be in therapy for a long time to come, but, it’s getting there! Nearly three years since the last surgery and I’m still healing. Fourteen months since my broken heart and I’m still healing. It is a process. It comes in stages. It takes time. Don’t quit going to PT. Don’t quit checking in with the Doctor. Don’t give up on your own healing. Claim it. Work towards it. 

By His stripes, He won your healing and your heart. You can do it. Swing those legs over the edge of the bed and stand. His amazing grace hasn’t failed to uphold you once, has it?

Keep Going!

Mine is a story of amazing grace and miracles, yet it is still difficult for me to share. I do want to invite you to take a walk in my shoes. Largely because of my pride, I have never before shared all of these feelings and emotions with many people. I pray that throughout this journey you will see God’s powerful hand at work. He is the Author and Perfecter of all things, including my life and my story. Sometimes it is difficult to see God’s fingerprints; but those are the seasons through which we must search for them ever harder. With each of my steps, there have been tears of joy and tears of pain. There have been reports of hope as well as gloom… but through it all, God has worked miracles. –  

Position your heart and position your faith. We are in a race! If you truly are a ready, willing, vessel, God will use to you to bring glory to His all-powerful name. Many lessons in faith, hope, and perseverance I continue to learn. Whether you are crawling, limping, walking or running this Christian race, be encouraged! Keep going! If you stay the course, you are guaranteed to be victorious! 

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After hours of agonizing labor, she was a mother for the first time. She waited and waited for the doctor to come back and hand her a beautiful baby girl. The doctor returned and declared that there was something wrong. “She has bilateral hip dysplasia.” These words were foreign to the first-time parents. “What?” 

     When I was born, neither of my hip sockets developed. Usually with braces, traction, body casts, etc., the sockets eventually form. As a result of the immediate treatments, my mother was never able to hold my bare body until I was almost six months old. Thankfully the left socket developed on its own – not normally, but it was functional. The right one hung limply by my side like a rag doll. “She will probably never walk, you know,” stated the doctor matter-of-factly.  I have one of the most severe cases in the entire country… Thus began a series of treatments, doctor’s visits, 400 mile round-trip drives to seek help; thus began a nightmare.  By God’s grace and help, my parents navigated graciously through my first three years. 

They got pregnant again. At the age of three, there was not much about the birthing process that I could comprehend. Mom said she was having a baby, and that I could have one too. I was thrilled! My baby was going to be “born” on the same day as my baby brother. It was going to be a girl, and her name was Oscar, yes Oscar! Amidst the excitement, my parents encountered another blow as the news that my precious baby brother was to be born breech; a sure sign that he would have hip dysplasia as well. They could do nothing but watch, wait and pray. October 12, 1992, my little brother was born. Unexplainably, he was born completely healthy and without any complications. Just after we brought brother home from the hospital, I went in to have a major surgery. This would prove to be only one of many. 

When I was younger, it was incredibly hard to understand why I had to be “different.” I wanted to run and play with my friends at recess, but I couldn’t keep up. I wanted to go sleep over at a friend’s house, but I was embarrassed because I would have to bring my leg braces.  Around age three, I had a serious surgery that left me in a body cast. I a fiberglass cast held me hostage from my toes to the top of my ribs. I remember one of my aunts entering the hospital room. “Don’t look at me,” I told her. She said, “Oh, sweetheart, why not?” “Because I am ugly…” and the tears began to flow. I just could not understand why I had to be different from everyone else. I hated going out in public. A four year old should not be in a wheel chair! The stares and the glares were burned into my memory. 

While I did have a serious disability, I was never allowed to act like it. I applaud my parents for how they raised me. They told me that it was ok to hurt, but I could not take my hurt out on anyone else. They also said that it was ok to be mad and frustrated with God; I just could not stay that way. Following a surgery in 3^rd grade, I was recovering at home playing a game with my little brother. I was losing and decided to throw a temper tantrum. My mother still disciplined me and sent me to my room. I was shocked “But Mommy, I am hurt,” I whined… sternly, she sent me down the hall on my crutches to my room. At the time I was oh so mad! Now, I thank her and my father for not allowing me to use my disability in a manipulative way. As I grew older, I began to understand that my parents could have easily babied me through my childhood – heck, it was traumatic! But in their great wisdom, they did not. I was special, but not a brat; I was given attention, but was not a drama queen (well, maybe just a little bit!)

My sweet little brother has always been there to take care of me. We attended the same school, and although he was three years younger, he was the first one to help me, to defend me, and to check on me. He never voiced it, but I know he has dealt with his share of jealousy and frustration. Instead of getting angry or envious, he became my friend. After every surgery he was the first one waiting for me. As soon as I was awake, he would be at the side of my bed ready to play dinosaurs or color with me. He has been one of the greatest blessings of my life and I don’t know what I would have done without him! 

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The summer before my 5^th grade year, my family and I were on a vacation to San Antonio, Texas. We had such a great time at the zoo, at sea world, and the Alamo. On the last evening of the trip, we ate in a small diner next to our hotel.  Sleepy and full, we stood up from the dinner table. That is, everyone but me. I tried to stand and with an explosion, my right hip dislocated. I cried until I could not breathe. My Daddy carried me back to the hotel. When we got home to see a doctor, there was no doubt that my hip had snapped. Fifth grade was a difficult time. I had to walk with at least one crutch; I could bear no weight on my right leg without some kind of support. Nearing the end of the school year, we went to see my doctor in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Dr. Frederic Sherman agreed that something had to be done. My right hip was completely dislocated, and as a result was almost 8cm shorter than my left. Surgery was indefinite that summer. 

In June of 2001, I was admitted to Carrie Tingley Hospital in Albuquerque. Originally I was going to have to wear a traction boot to help pull my leg (which was 8cm higher than it should have been) back into place. Upon arriving at the hospital, Dr. Sherman entered my room and announced that a simple boot would not be enough to do the job; my leg was far too misplaced. That evening I had a simple surgery to drill a rod through my right knee. The ends of the rod stuck out of my skin. Weights were rigged to the rod in my knee, and a week of hell began. Never have I been in such incredible pain. Sudden movements or jerks would send me into shock with pain. Of course, while in traction I would have a dream about being on a roller coaster. Vividly, I still remember what happened: the ups and down, the curves, twists and turns, and then the jerk. My body did exactly what my mind was telling it. It jerked violently as the “roller coaster” rounded a corner. I woke up screaming in pain, my mother who was sleeping in the chair next to my bed woke equally startled. Nurses came running into the room and have to give me a shot to sedate me and get the pain under control. 

However, the worst of the pain was not over. It was the morning of the surgery, and I had to be unhooked from traction. Knowing the pain would be unbearable, I had already been given sedatives and pain medicine. The doctors come in to my hospital room and began to remove the weights attached to my knee. The traction had worked and my legs were now of equal length again. Yet, when they removed the final weight, my hip dislocated once again. Like the snap of a rubber band, I felt my hip jump up to my ears! Screaming with pain, the room went black and I was unconscious. 

The fusion was successful although it did take away all motion in my right hip joint. I had to swing my leg to walk and was not able to put my shoes and socks on by myself. It was an adjustment but I did feel better than I had in quite some time. 

       Two years later, knowing no boundaries, I decided to try out for the cheerleading squad. Against all odds – mind you, I can’t jump or tumble due to my hip – I made it. The next four years I spent burning with passion on the sidelines. For the first time in my life, I felt normal. I felt as if I fit in. 

     My junior year of high school I began struggling with chronic, intense hip pain again. Concerned, my parents and I packed up for another trip to Albuquerque. My appointment was the day before my football team was to play for the state championship. A welcomed distraction, my mind was on the team and getting to the game! However, upon holding up my x-ray, the doctor jolted me back into reality. “How in the world…” The confusion and fear on his face alerted me that something was seriously wrong. He then pointed out to my family and I the giant crack in the metal rod in my leg. Yes, this is a tough, thick piece of metal that due to my “active lifestyle” I had managed to not just crack, but break in half. My heart broke as the doctor looked at me and said, “Maybe you need to give up cheer.” Pleadingly, my sweet Mother looked at me with tears in her eyes begging the same thing. 

My head is as hard as a rock and I was just determined to ignore it, work through the pain, and get to the state game. Upon arrival at the football field, my squad embraced me inquiring of my appointment. “It was fine…” We had a job to do and at this moment – I was still cheering. The boys won and we screamed in victory and posed for pictures. As we climbed back on this bus, I had the sinking feeling that this could have been my last game to cheer… ever.

     Through some prayer, my Mother’s desperate plea to have me stop before I do more damage, and basically my stubbornness, I was decided to finish out the season. After all, state cheer competition was only five months away! The pain was intense and I consumed prescription pain pills as if they were M&M’s. We went to state cheer and won 2^nd place, losing by only one point! I did not cheer my senior year… it was difficult to let go of my passion but I worked as a youth league coach to compensate for my sweet sorrows.

      After graduation, I moved to Texas to attend college. The rod in my hip totally severed, I walked around with bone grinding on bone. The pain was now excruciating and began to interfere with my social life. As a college freshman I declined invitations to play sand volleyball and ultimate Frisbee simply because I was in so much pain – let me remind you, I am a stubborn person. For me to admit that I “can’t” do something is HUGE. 

Unfortunately, we were at the end of the road and without many options. I had already had eleven surgeries and those held a minimal success rate. The only option left was a total hip replacement… at the ripe age of twenty, the last thing I wanted was a hip replacement. Wanting desperately to enjoy my college experience, I put off making the dreaded decision. The doctor and my parents were patient and complied with my wishes, however in December of my freshman year of college, the broken portion of the rod had to be removed from my femur. The surgery was minor – the goal being to allow my femur to build back bone before a total hip replacement was possible. I returned to school in January on crutches and finished the semester. 

     The pain continued to increase and also continued to negatively impact my friendships, relationships and mental health. Living with intense, chronic pain is not something I wish on anyone. The summer between my sophomore and junior year of college, I made the decision to have the hip replacement. Reason and logic told me to wait until I graduated, but desperation, pain and love made the decision easy. 

     One of the most difficult surgeries I have had, I came through with a long road to recovery. Because my hip had been fused for almost ten years prior, all of the muscles, tendons and ligaments surrounding my hip joint were beyond atrophied… some the doctor even considered, “dead.” It was going to take over a year for my body to recover and build muscle that never existed prior. My surgery was June 25, 2010… in August, I returned to school to take 16 hours worth of classes and serve as the Director of Freshman Orientation for the university (this was a bad idea). Thanks to God’s grace and the help of many friends, I went to physical therapy three time a week and managed my class load. 

     My hip just celebrated its two year anniversary. Yes, I celebrate June 25^th every year. In addition to it being my best friend’s birthday, it was the day God gave me my life back. It was the day that He used a doctor to heal my body. This healing has been long awaited… many tears and many arguments with God. I desperately believed in and desired a miraculous healing, however through my pain, so many more people were able to witness Christ’s faithfulness in my life. It is my testimony. No longer do I run from my pain, but rather embrace it as Paul did his “thorn in the flesh.” If this is the very tool God chooses to use for His glory in my life, who am I to stand in the way and argue? 

     I was in physical therapy and worked with a trainer for over a year and a half. God has been faithful and has used my story to help other people. I have a very special place in my heart for the Ronald McDonald House… ask God for divine appointments and He is more than happy to oblige! Today I am healthy and well – there still is pain and stiffness and some limitations, but trivial compared to my younger years. I help coach a cheerleading squad, scuba dive, compete in pageants and even skydive! 

   Sometimes our faith walk is much like my journey. Keep walking on ahead in the Lord. If you are not constantly making forward progress with our Maker, you are stagnant… Revelation 3 warns about becoming stagnant – don’t allow excuses to keep you there! You may limp, you may stumble, you may even need intensive surgery followed by rehab, just know that our Lord is faith and patient in each stage you go through – just KEEP GOING!