THE CRIPPLED LAMB

Crippled Lamb

by Beth Ann Morgan

Are you looking for the perfect gift for a child between the ages of four to ten? I have a recommendation for you, one that has the potential to move every reader to tears with its message of hope and beautiful pictures.

The Crippled Lamb by Max Lucado tells the story of an orphaned, crippled lamb named Joshua. His one and only friend is a cow named Abigail, and the two share one night together that they will never forget, a night Joshua would never have known had he not been disabled.

I found myself inspired not only by the book itself but also by the reactions of the children to whom I’ve read it. Their eyes first show great empathy, then move to sadness at the lamb’s lonely plight, and finally, to awestruck wonder as the lamb’s greatest weakness ushers him into the presence of a King.

The other reason I personally like the story is that it shows how everyone has something to give, something of purpose and value, even when it may appear untrue. For years I struggled with a severe case of a heart condition called Neurocardiogenic Syncope. My case baffled cardiologists across the country, and I spent eight years traversing the ups-and-downs of trying to carry out my tasks of daily living without fainting.

During the darkest periods, I was confined to bed, unable to even sit because my severely low blood pressure would drop further still. My brain was foggy at best, and I remember feeling my thoughts swirl around in my head like a load of laundry in a washing machine. It was boring. Time passed by, and I couldn’t remember what I had done much less thought about the previous day . . . week . . . month.

It was lonely.

Until I realized that I could pray. What I had seen previously as an immense trial in my life I now saw as an incredible opportunity. How many people in their twenties are blessed with 24 hours/day, seven days/week to pray for people? Most of them are working, raising a family, studying, praying as time allows, but constantly? That is nothing short of an extreme challenge.

When I understood the magnitude of the gift I’d been given, I gratefully poured out my heart like water before the Lord every day, talking to Him about anything and everything, lifting up concerns for friends and strangers alike. God used those precious years to draw me close, comfort my heart, and teach me many things. As hard as it was, I look back over that period of my life with joy.

It was beautiful to me.

As is The Crippled Lamb and its message of love and hope. May God continue to use this book to reach into the hearts of children and their families to make them tender toward those who feel lonely and left out, renewing their purpose and giving them hope.

 

Photo Courtesy of Max Lucado and Illustrator Andrea Lucado

DIVINE PLAYDATE

divine playdate

by Beth Ann Morgan

One of the beautiful things about being around children at any stage of life, including times of crisis, is benefiting from their incredible ability to simplify the complex.

While my older children spent the afternoon at a recent playdate, my youngest and I took part in a wonderful conversation in the car. Abby’s smile wasn’t as bright as usual, her happy banter nonexistent as she stared out the window.

I couldn’t figure it out. After all, she was my shopper. My Abby Mae has been known to raise her hands and shout, “Yea! Aldi’s! Shopping!” while passing her favorite store, but today, I wasn’t sure she even noticed the colorful sign.

Then it dawned on me.

“Abby, would you like to have a playdate?” Big nod. “With who?”

“God.” Pause. “At His house.”

We proceeded to have a delightful conversation about how God probably has a big playground complete with slides and swings right inside His house. Her faced shone, and she clapped her hands together in delight, pouring out her beautiful two-year-old fantasies. I asked her what she would do first.

“I want to hold Him.”

I nearly ran the car off the road as tears filled my eyes. In an instant, my mind left behind its clutter of cares like the mother who leaves a stack of unwashed dishes on the counter so that she can run barefoot through the field with her little ones to receive a fistful of hand-picked dandelions and glimpse a rainbow spreading across the sky.

I put the car in park and then turned to look my daughter full in the face.

“Me, too, Abby,” I said. “Me, too.”

PAJAMA PICKOUT

pajamas

by Beth Ann Morgan

We all need something to look forward to, especially in the darkest of times. About four years ago when our son, John, clung to life in the hospital, one simple request back on the home front ended up creating some of my daughter, Hannah’s, happiest memories during the most tragic times of her life.

I spent Saturdays at home during John’s extended stay, so I made a big deal about seeing Hannah and getting to spend time with her. On such a night, I’d battled three extra hours of traffic and returned from the hospital much later than I’d wanted to, totally and utterly exhausted.

She threw open the door with bells on. I greeted her royally and then grabbed my duffel bag.

“Come on, Sweetheart. Let’s get ready for bed. You have a big soccer game early in the morning.”

She bounded up the steps after me. We chatted for a minute while I unpacked my things.

“Hannah, would you please hand me some pajamas?”

“Sure, Mommy.” She leapt up and yanked open the drawer. “Which ones did you say?” Before I could answer, I saw her scoop out a top, then a nightgown, then another. “Wow! You have so many pretty and fun pajamas to wear.”

“Would you like to pick out the ones I wear tonight?”

Sharp gasp. “Really?” Her hand flew to her chest, then back to the clothes. “I would love to, Mommy!” She dug around and pulled out every item of clothing, finally deciding on a turquoise and white matching capris set. “This one!” she shouted.

It was one of the best things I ever did. Without realizing it, I had given her something fun and pretty to do but more importantly control. I saw in that moment how much that choice meant to her and made a decision of my own.

“Tell you what, Hannah, how about you pick out my jammies every Saturday night?”

“Really? You mean it, Mommy?” She clasped her hands together. “Yes, yes! I will! Oh, thank you, Mommy. I love you.”

In months to come, she looked forward to Saturday nights more than ever. She made plans about which pajamas she would pick and frown if I wore on Friday the pajamas she planned to pick on Saturday.

“Take them off!” No rest and no peace until they were back in my drawer.

It wasn’t always convenient, but I didn’t mind. She needed it, depended on it, perhaps too much, but in some way, I believe it helped her immensely.

Something simple yet fun, something to look forward to. May God grant us all some small thing such as pajama picking in the midst of every storm.

LITTLE QUESTIONS

DRIVE

by Beth Ann Morgan

Have you ever had one of those moments after you’ve felt tremendous healing and renewed strength post-crisis when all of a sudden, out of the blue one simple question sucks the wind right out of your sail?

I had one of those yesterday.

The kids and I were chatting in the car about how God had used John’s amazing doctors to “fix” his gastroschisis, a birth defect in which his intestines formed outside of his body. Thankfully, he no longer takes medicine, and his gastroenterologist discharged John from their service roughly 18 months ago.

Then, we talked about Abby’s wonderful physicians and how they’d helped her. Such conversation is normal for us and evoked no negative emotions, only sheer thankfulness.

Not until Abby asked her question.

“But, Mommy, did they fix me?”

When did she get so old? How is it that a two-year-old is asking such a question, a question that I don’t want to answer? The answer will change her life forever. As a parent, I want to protect her, to shield her from the knowledge that her life is fragile, more than most, and that no, she is not “fixed” – and may never be.

“Sweetheart, everybody’s different. You’re doing great today, but you need to keep going to your heart doctor because God has given you a special heart to keep forever. The doctors fixed it really well, but they want to keep making sure it stays fixed. Does that sound like a good plan?”

Big nod. Big smile.

One little question took my heart down a million paths like the tour guide who grabs your arm and propels you toward the edge of the Grand Canyon while you thought you were at the souvenir shop buying a t-shirt. I expect emotional detours when I’m writing, not when I’m driving along, having happy conversation with my children on our way to the playground.

These unexpected trips have become less frequent as time goes by, but they still come out of nowhere, blindsiding me, rocking my world for a time. The questions, or shall I say the answers, will not get easier the older Abby gets, but with each passing day, our family is learning more about what it means to live full of hope despite challenges that may lurk ahead.

We choose to press on, focusing not on the eventual outcome but rather on, by God’s grace, doing today together the best we can, grateful for the gift of one more day to encourage other families while enjoying and loving ours to the max.

And for those seasons when the tough questions come?

God will be there. Just as He was in the car with us yesterday when the question came, He will be there, possibly with an answer but more importantly with Himself.

I’m forever grateful.

 

THE DNA OF RELATIONSHIPS

storm clouds

by Beth Ann Morgan

Crisis brings out the best – and worst – in all of us. We have a distinct choice in how we handle every relational challenge, and how we choose to handle them ultimately defines who we are.

In the midst of a raging storm, it’s all too easy to say and do things to damage our relationships. All of the late nights and skipped meals, the broken routine and disorder, the loneliness and emotional rollercoaster equates to an intricate but all-too-common recipe for disaster.

But there is hope. Crisis can be a great time to push “reset”.

When Christian and I found ourselves in the boiling pot of the thickest mess, we really struggled to relate well to each other. Our world had fallen apart and seemed to continue falling apart on a daily basis.

My husband and I loved each other like crazy, but we both carried deep pain and had little time to mentally process any of it. Over the course of many months in crisis that grew into years, small hurts festered into the blackest gangrene, a cavernous mouth that threatened to devour life and limb.

We saw the amputation coming and knew we couldn’t stop it alone. We needed help while we still loved each other enough to do the hard, dirty work and determined to not just fix our relationship but also eliminate the threat of it ever happening again.

This family had seen too many band-aids.

Our family counselor, Dr. Wayne Schantzenbach, recommended one of the best books we have ever read, The DNA of Relationships by Dr. Gary Smalley. With amazing clarity and practical help, the author teaches couples how to identify the root cause of their deepest wounds and how marital partners can unintentionally deepen their spouse’s pain instead serving as an agent of healing for each other.

We thank God for sending us a permanent solution through lots of prayer, the help of many people, scriptures, and books. Especially The DNA of Relationships. I recommend it to every married (or almost married) person on the planet.

Thank You, God.

 

A New Birth

27C

My son, John, turns five today. I can barely see the screen through my tears because John almost didn’t make it to his first birthday, let alone fifth. During the twentieth week of pregnancy, my husband (Christian) and I learned that John had gastroschisis, a birth defect in which his intestines formed outside his body.

Christian and I were stunned at first but later heartbroken and scared. The joy-filled visions of the coming baby flew out the window. A 20-minute appointment had changed our lives.

Forever.

We cried a lot. We prayed a lot, as did our family and friends. Finally, as much as we dreaded facing the ordeal ahead, God in His amazing way ignited our passion and gave us the courage, hope, and strength to fight for the life of our son.

So, we took a big breath and moved forward.

Over the next seventeen weeks and then another four-and-a-half months in the hospital, John never gave up. By his sheer determination and the greatness of our God, he survived. He continued to thrive, growing and gaining weight at a normal rate. Within his first year, he no longer needed his feeding tube, and by four years of age, he came off all medication.

Thank You, God!

I cannot think of a more appropriate date on which to launch this blog. My husband wrote our family’s first post on John’s CarePage blog at my bedside minutes after his delivery.

Today, our family’s challenges have given birth to another blog, Drinking from the Well. By using everything we’ve learned over the past five years, we look forward to helping families not only survive difficult circumstances but also thrive, whether they find themselves in active crisis or beyond.

Happy Birthday, John. I love you!

WELCOME TO THE WELL

Bird drinking water

Had I known the details of the past seven years of my life before they passed, I would never have dreamed that I would survive them. A disabling heart condition. Two children with life-threatening birth defects. A crumbling marriage. Two miscarriages, both eight weeks to the day.

Unfortunately, the list goes on.

I don’t know the specific details of your wounds, whether they’re fresh and raw or healed to the point of nearly invisible scars. Perhaps you’ve recently lost a loved one or have admitted your child to the hospital. Maybe you’ve recently moved, lost a job, or have separated with little chance of reconciliation.

But from where I stand today, I can assure you that there is hope.

When I was in the thick of the hardest moments and the scorching fear and searing pain threatened to completely discourage and overwhelm me, I desperately needed to find an oasis in the desert where I could drink deeply from the well of someone who understood, someone who’d been there and done that. Someone who owned a pair of well-worn sandals buried deep in the closet, someone willing to drag them out to walk a few dusty miles by my side.

So relax against the cool, smooth stones and rest your weary soul while I dust off my sandals.

I want to walk with you.

GOALS for DRINKING FROM THE WELL 

  • To share our story as a means of encouraging others
  • To provide helpful information to families in active crisis
  • To provide resources that promote healing post-crisis
  • To give ideas that will help strengthen family relationships
  • To share the love of Jesus, the Living Water that quenches every thirst

“Let anyone who is thirsty come to Me and drink. Whoever believes in Me, as Scripture has said, rivers of living water will flow from within them.” John 7:37-38

Drinking from the Well fits perfectly with my life’s purpose, which is to comfort and encourage others who hurt with the generous love and comfort I have received. My three main passions are Jesus, writing/speaking, and people. Okay, maybe four. Horses. I love horses. My sub-passions are by no means limited to the following: reading, singing, decorating cakes, running, cooking, gardening, and crafting (i.e. scrapbooking, quilting, sewing, painting, etc.). I am also addicted to using my dandelion hook.

On a professional note, I am a former pediatric dietitian, forced to resign in 2000 due to a heart condition. I turned to freelance writing, completed The Jerry B. Jenkins Christian Writers Guild’s Apprenticeship Program, and got busy writing articles and book proposals.

By the grace of God, our marriage and our relationships with our children are stronger than ever. Our dream as a couple is to own a farm through which our family can help hungry, hurting, and lonely people. By connecting them with resources to grow their own food and by sharing the love of Christ, we seek to offer hope, love, and a family that lasts forever.

Thanks for stopping in. I’ve got my sandals on and will keep you in my constant prayers. May God richly bless you and yours, both today – and beyond.

Much love,

Beth