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.

 

CRISIS SHOEBOX

Shoebox Image

by Beth Ann Morgan

Imagine placing an ordinary shoebox crammed full of toys, stickers, games, and toiletries into the arms of an impoverished child? Operation Christmas Child (OCC), a ministry of Samaritan’s Purse, delivered over one million such shoeboxes last year and brightened the lives of children around the world with a simple gift.

We have the power to do the same.

I’ve seen the beautiful OCC videos. Children beaming from ear-to-ear, little girls twirling around holding a doll, and a ragged boy clutching a box to his chest with tears streaming down his face. For a few delightful minutes, they feel valuable, they feel loved, they feel free.

Free to be children and enjoy something special.

The challenges of life disappear for a few precious minutes as the walls of the heart tumble down and sheer joy rushes in. To know that someone far away cares enough to reach into their pain and do something fun, practical, and beautiful touches a place deep inside, a place where perhaps no one has ever come.

Today, children lie in hospitals and homeless shelters, orphanages and unhappy places all around us, children not necessarily hard up financially but physically and emotionally destitute, needing a lift of the spirit. Maybe they just got the test results. Or heard the court order. Or got more bad news.

Any day can be a shoebox day for a hurting child.

I wish I had been more sensitive to all of this earlier in life. After walking my path, I sometimes catch myself going back in my mind to the patients I’d cared for, all of the things I could have done but didn’t. I don’t stay there but focus instead on what my family and I can do today to help families going through a difficult time.

One little shoebox is all it takes.

I’ve posted a list of TEN SHOEBOX PACKING ITEMS I’ve started with in the past.   For more great ideas, please visit SamaritansPurse.org.

BEAN BINS

sensory play beans

by Beth Ann Morgan

Crisis of any kind challenges even the bravest to handle it well, but without wisdom gleaned from several years of life experience, children dealing with crisis tend to resort either to retreating in or acting out.

Ours acted out. In an all-or-nothing kind of way, a way that was totally out of my league.

I remember the first time Lisa Hayslip, one of our Early Intervention (EI) therapists, came to our house with a boot-box size bin filled with hard, dry beans. After sitting on our family room floor, she popped off the top. Hannah gasped with delight as Lisa plunged her hand deep into the bin, wiggling her fingers all around.

Without hesitation, Hannah followed suit and played in the wonderful tub of beans, enjoying the silky smoothness and pleasant weight covering her hands. I hadn’t seen her smile like this for weeks, yet here she was, digging around for plastic teddy bears like a mole tunneling toward a big juicy worm. She scooped and dumped, slow and fast, swooshing and splashing into the tub of dark red bliss.

For a full thirty minutes.

As the session came to a close, Lisa closed up her box. Hannah’s pretty face fell. Her thirty minutes of peace and purpose dissolved like a mountain of snow on the Fourth of July.

My heart broke. That parental, “I love you so much and want to obliterate the big horrible beast that’s causing you so much pain, but if I can’t, I’m going to do everything in my power to help you through it” feeling rushed through me as we waved goodbye to Lisa.

My mind crumpled up today’s “To Do” list and tossed it into the trashcan. I picked up my keys with a smile.

“Want to hit the Dollar Tree, Sweetheart?”

THE VERY CRANKY BEAR

the very cranky bear

by Beth Ann Morgan

The timeless power of a good story continues to blow me away. Stories have the unique ability to make people relate, feel emotion, and motivate change. If you’re looking for a great parenting resource about how to deal with agitated people, I recommend a simple story titled “The Very Cranky Bear” by Nick Bland.

Even though it sells in the children’s market, I recommend it for every person on the planet. Without giving too much away, the story is about how four friends attempt to cheer up a very cranky bear. Each one tries in their own way, but one of the friends bests them all because she listens to the bear’s need without being turned off by his outward behavior.

This book changed the course of our parenting and gave us a tool that our children could not only understand but also use to better relate to each other when one of us is not at the top of our game.

Shilpa Barrantes, another Early Intervention therapist that helped our family navigate through crisis, brought this book to a session she had with our daughter, Hannah, during a tumultuous time in her two-year-old life. She loved the story and immediately began rattling off times when different members of our family had been cranky bears.

When my husband came home from work later that day, Hannah could hardly wait to tell him about the book. She recounted the tale to him as best she could and chattered happily about the ending. Her enthusiasm moved him, for she’d not responded to something like this in a long time.

He glanced sideways at me and whispered, “Buy the book.”

It arrived within the week, and we enjoyed reading it over and over again. My husband and I often chuckle when we use the phrase “very cranky bear” with each other when anyone in our family, even an adult, becomes a little grouchy. We then try to encourage each other to be “plain but thoughtful sheep.”

Complete with cute little “baa,” of course.

WIPES ARE NOT JUST FOR BABIES

WIPES

by Beth Ann Morgan

Even when I’m 85, baby wipes will accompany me in the car, in my purse, and in my home. I love them. I can think of few items that are so versatile yet affordable. I’ve even made them myself.

When I delivered my oldest daughter, Hannah, I’d needed to stay in bed more than the average mom, so my wonderful husband changed all of her diapers. He looked around for baby wipes, and finding none, he called and asked for some. Both he and I could not hide our surprise when the nurse returned and handed him a stack of what appeared to be fabric softener sheets.

He looked at me, I looked at him. The “wipes” were completely dry. No compact plastic box, no powder fresh scent, no nothing. Upon the nurse’s return, she kindly instructed my husband to moisten them under running water. The hospital had recently switched from common packaged wipes due to multiple incidents of diaper rash and yeast infections amongst their newborn patients.

We found them quite wonderful. I admit that initially, I couldn’t wait to get home and use my fancy new box of lavender-scented wipes. Not using a product (other than tap water) to clean a little bottom after removing a soiled diaper was foreign to me. However, after returning home and using our wipes for about a two-week period, Hannah’s little bottom reacted to the fragrance.

I dug out the dry hospital wipes.

Since then we’ve used any and all types of wipes. When a child appears to have any type of rash, we immediately switch to water-wipes, but other than that, we’re not fussy about wipes. We think they’re fantastic.

Definitely on the Top Ten Practical Life Helps – full list posting soon.

THE NEXT 1-2-3

1-2-3

by Beth Ann Morgan

One of the most helpful things I’ve learned as an adult is how to switch to The Next 1-2-3 thinking when I catch myself starting to feel overwhelmed. The sheer emotion of crisis threatens to consume sanity like a lion devours its prey, so I’ve learned to lean heavily on a God-sent tool that helped structure my mind.

It was subconscious at first. An Early Intervention therapist named Lisa had taught me how to structure my daughter’s daily activity by using a simple 1-2-3 method. Our family had found it effective and incorporated it into our daily life.

Little did the therapist (and I) know how critical THE NEXT 1-2-3 would become to my own survival.

Here’s how it works:

  • I ask myself, “What are the next three things I’m going to do?”
  • I formulate my plan: 1) Unlock the door. 2) Turn on the light. 3) Turn on the oven.
  • I carry out the three tasks in order.

Done. Then I would plan my next three steps: 1) Put my keys on the hook. 2) Hang up my coat. 3) Set my purse in the closet.

Sometimes it was change a diaper, wash my hands, and head downstairs. When things were incredibly tough, I completed only one task at a time.

It was all I could handle.

Minute-by-minute, task-by-task, somehow it all got done, or at least what needed to get done did. Even though I stayed busy and productive, I had minimized the decision-making process and given myself a mental mini-break by using the NEXT 1-2-3.

Sound crazy? Try it next time you’re in the middle of a substantial mess struggling to keep breathing, dragging yourself around on less than two hours of sleep.

Every bit of energy counts.

PILLOWCASE RACE

pillow race

by Beth Ann Morgan

Have wide eyes and hope-filled smiles ever greeted you at the door after a really long hard day? There’s no place you’d rather be, but your heart sinks at the thought of disappointing the ones you love the most.

When John and then Abby were in the hospital, I knew it was important to keep doing things, fun things, with the children left behind at home. The mother in me knew we needed to smile together, laugh together, and make memories together, but I was exhausted and hard-pressed for ideas

One rare evening when all of us were home before one of Abby’s critical surgeries, my husband took the initiative to lighten things up. He quietly opened the linen closet, grabbed a pillowcase, and disappeared into the upstairs bathroom while the kids remained absorbed in selecting their bedtime stories.

He emerged from the bathroom grinning from ear-to-ear. Both of his feet were inside the pillowcase, and his hands grasped the top seam at his knees. My knight in shining armor hopped over to me.

I smiled wide. Here stood my hero, yellow ducky print and all.

“Who’s ready to race?” His deep voice bellowed down the hall, and soon, we heard little feet pounding the floor. A chorus of grins and giggles erupted all at once.

“ME! ME! ME!”

Up and down the hallway we went, again and again, nobody really winning per say. The goal was to simply remain upright without trampling Abby. She typically fell within the first ten feet, giggling and rolling.

Free. Easy. Adorable.

The next time your children (and your spouse) are looking for something fun, try peeking in your linen closet for a simple and quick bedtime smile.

It’s waiting inside.

 

Photo courtesy of Pinterest

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