The Good Things

This week we had the opportunity to sit in our kitchen and visit with some fine folks from a local television show. After the microphone was tucked away, the camera packed up and the vehicle pulled out of the driveway, I got to thinking about how God doesn’t just open doors, He opens them in ways we often don’t even anticipate. The Explore Tulsa show door opened because of a thank you note. Over the summer I had written a thank you note to Video Revolution. They’re people who not only know cutting edge electronics, but they have heart too. Almost a year ago, Brandon shared with them how the Lord was calling us to share our story, and our need to video the events. They captured the vision and met the need. The least I could do was write a thank you note. Well, who would’ve known Video Revolution sponsors the Explore Tulsa show? That one note led to an email, a phone call, an interview, and soon a segment to air covering our story. God is so creative.

It’s a statement I find myself repeating over and over again. The creative plans of God are far above what we can think or imagine. I certainly would’ve never imagined how He would take such tragedy, loss and sadness and bring life, joy and abundance out of it.

One of my favorite, slightly embarrassing, but really funny stories about God’s creative plans goes back five years ago. I was in my first semester of nursing school at OU. I was in the 3pm-11pm clinical group. We had two back-to-back clinical days each week. The patient I was assigned to on day one was going into surgery the next day. As a student I desired the chance to observe the surgery. When the elderly patient asked me if I would be there, it gave me the motivation I needed to inquire of the possibility.

The next day, we’ll call surgery day, was the day the nursing students were assigned to be working a health fair for the Tulsa Run registrants. It was a late night before, and an early morning start. That may not sound like pertinent information, but it explains why I never took the time to eat. I stayed at the health fair until my clinical instructor gave me the green light to leave a little early, making it to the hospital for the patient’s surgery.

I checked in at the OR where I was escorted to change out of my nursing student scrubs and into surgical scrubs. Afterwards, a nurse accompanied me to the OR where I was encouraged to find a place out of the way, and not to draw any attention, or ask any questions, because the surgeon didn’t like students. Wow! Talk about intimidating. But I found a corner, where I assumed I’d be able to see, and I planned to be inconspicuous.

Shortly thereafter, the door swung open and a man walked right up to me and asked, “Are you the student?” I said, “Yes, I am.” Then another question, “Do you want to see something you’ll never see again in your life?” I said, “Absolutely.”

I walked with him over to view an X-Ray as he explained to me that the patient had an amyand hernia. Then this surgeon, who supposedly didn’t even like students asked, “do you want to scrub in?” WHAT?!?! No. That’s what I said on the inside, but allow me to use quotations so you’ll realize how composed I was on the outside. “What does that entail?” He said, “Come on. I’ll show ya.”

So over we went to scrub in. As I washed and washed, up to my elbows, Dr. Johnson inquired of my burn injury. The questions, “how were you injured?” and “where did you receive your care?” revealed that Dr. Johnson not only knew my surgeons, but remembered my case. It was a neat moment to say the least.

Do you feel all the nice warm fuzzies? Hang on to those. It gets better.

There I was all scrubbed in, donning the sterile gloves and sterile gown, we moseyed up to the surgical field. Dr. Johnson instructed me to put my hands right up there by his. The surgery started, the incision was made and the cauterizing began. Now is the time I should remind you I hadn’t eaten that day. As the fat was cauterized the smell overwhelmed me. I remember the voice of Ms. BDub (our nickname for our clinical instructor) ringing in my head, “Don’t let anyone take away your opportunity to learn.” I was telling myself to pull it together, not wanting to throw the opportunity out the window from my own doing.

I’ve never completely passed out, but I was on my way that day. My head was sooo light. I was trying so very hard to hold it together. I believe I took a step back, keeping my hands in position on the sterile field, I then leaned over about to go down. Dr. Johnson yelled, “Grab her.” Suddenly, someone’s arms were around my waste and everyone was asking, “what’s her name,” “what’s her name?” I answered in a barely-with-it slur, “Heeeaaattthhherrrr.”

Oh dear. There was a whole need to scrub back in. Not for me. No, they found me a little stool to sit on for the duration of the surgery. Nevertheless, I was shocked when Dr. Johnson invited me in for the next case. It was nothing I could’ve ever anticipated. It was a skin graft on a burn patient.

What an incredible moment seeing for the first time what I had experienced so many, many times before. It was surreal. In my spirit I prayed for the patient, anticipating his pain upon awakening for him. Bless his heart. Skin grafts are not pleasant.

Couldn’t get much more incredible than that could it? One wouldn’t think. But with God life holds incredible moments when we least expect them.

A few weeks later I got a call from the marketing team at Hillcrest, the hospital I had received my burn care and the same hospital I was then doing my clinicals at, over twenty years later.

Dr. Johnson had suggested me for a marketing campaign they were launching.

Who would’ve ever thought? The girl who got excused early from community nursing hours to attend a surgery where the surgeon had a reputation of not even liking students, to getting an invitation to scrub in and practically blowing it by nearly fainting, to getting another invitation for a very personal experience on another surgery, to topping it off with a request to be a part of a television commercial and newspaper ads? You’ve got to be kidding!

Only God. Only God.

Every door He opens I know is His equipping of every good thing to accomplish His will.

In this post I hope you’ve had a little laughter and received a lot of hope.   The Lord uses everything. His ways are higher. His plans are creative. He wants you in the middle of it all!

Hebrews 13:21 (NLV) May God give you every good thing you need so you can do what He wants. May He do in us what pleases Him through Jesus Christ. May Christ have all the shining-greatness forever! Let it be so.

Explore Tulsa airs locally on: Saturdays Channel 19 at 6pm Sunday Channel 6 at Midnight Wednesdays Channel 47 at 10pm segments are also on their website  www.exploretulsa.com

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video from the Hillcrest Changing Lives Campaign

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xfkDF46M5z4

Exlpore Tulsa- interviews December 5th 2015

Part 1

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pGAKaCUpvDI

Part 2

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3mZTganfOVM

Why, Oh Why?

Last night I packed for a trip. I’ll be gone for three to five days. And while I know I’ll be taken good care of, I’m not too excited about going. But I grabbed items which bring me comfort and encouragement; my soft navy blue polar fleece blanket, I’ll take my pillow before leaving, and I packed three pictures from my house; one of our trip to Hawaii, one of our last visit to see Mickey, and one of us from last year taken at home by our fence. The photos help me focus on what I have, over what I’ve lost. Has their been loss? Immense. Has their been pain? Excruciating. But I’ve experienced a far greater portion of joy, peace and happiness. And that is what gripped my heart as I was pulling out of my doctor’s office last week after scheduling today’s surgery. Before my most recent surgery, I had a very small area of scar tissue tear on my back. This was a reoccurring problem after my injury during the rehabilitating years, and on into my adolescence as my body was growing from that of a child to an adult. However, this was a scenario I no longer anticipated having over twenty-six years later. Regardless, it had to be addressed, so when my surgeon came in to do surgical markings for the last operation, I asked him if we could have an “adder” and take care of that area. He examined it. He then informed me it would be more than a simple release of scar tissue. He said the dreaded words, “We need to do a skin graft.” Yuck. To say those are painful is a bit of an understatement. It’s surprising to some when I explain that it’s not even the area released which causes such discomfort as it is the donor site.

Addressing the issue is always more than the obvious. Having another surgery this year was not in this planner’s plan. It meant making arrangements for the kids, missing activities with them, along with all the holiday parties during my most favorite time of year, and, it meant regrouping my commitments at work. I was bummed. I was frustrated. I was disappointed. Those emotions came in to check quickly.

I left my doctor’s office, pulled out on Utica, stopped at the light, and began crying. Through my tears, I sang, “Thank you, Lord. I just want to thank you. I just want to thank you. I just want to take a little time right now, and say, ‘Thank you, Lord,’ for all You’ve done for me.” It’s a minor inconvenience to spend the last part of my year recovering from what is, yes, a highly unpleasant procedure, but not a complicated one with uncertain outcomes. This trip to the hospital and stay in the burn center won’t necessarily be fun, but it will all be okay. In consideration of this beautiful life God has provided me to live, it’s petty to complain about it, even to grumble about it in my own heart.

The “why such emotion and tears” thought may arise. Why cry? Why sob? It was out of my immense gratitude and deep conviction, because there were so many, many times I begged the Lord to allow me to die. I didn’t want to live a life in this body. I didn’t want to walk the road ahead of me. I didn’t understand why I lived and my brother died. I couldn’t imagine a future for me. I didn’t have life experience to help me reason it out, and even at that, I don’t know if I would have ever been able to find reason. I didn’t have coping skills to work through the physical, emotional and psychological trauma. I asked God, “Why?” I prayed prayers, “Please let me come to Heaven and be with you, let me see Jon. I don’t want to live here.” For years, I mean for years I prayed like this. What came out of it wasn’t pretty, but necessary. Much of what I felt, I internalized. Being the brave little girl was a role assigned to me early, and one I felt I had to uphold. Which is why an eating disorder was the outlet for me to channel my emotion privately. The path was ugly, depression was as real as the sun in the sky, but a light I couldn’t see.

But the uglier it got the more I cried out to my God. And the entire time, all those years, He was listening. All those years, all that time, He had a plan. And I am overwhelmed with gratitude that He didn’t allow me to die, not from the physical trauma of that tragic accident, and neither from the emotional wounds thereafter. No, He held me. He never let go. And He was speaking, “Heather, I have a plan, to prosper you and not harm, to give you hope and a future.” He was saying, “All things work together for those who are called according to My purposes, and my child, I have a purpose for your life.”

I am going on this trip today. I am going to be back in the place where it all began so many years ago. I’m going to stand in awe of what the precious people there did to save my life. I’m going to meet some new faces, learn some new names and thank them for caring for people like me, whose lives are forever changed, but whose lives are always worth living, because God is greater, His ways are higher and His plans are perfect.

In my distress I called to the Lord;

I cried to my God for help.

From His temple He heard my voice;

my cry came before Him, into His ears.

Psalm 18:6

NIV

*scriptures mentioned: Jeremiah 29:11, Romans 8:28

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No Big Deal

“Hey baby. I was just calling to let you know I am saying prayers for you for tomorrow. I love you. You’ve been on my mind a lot, and everything is going to be just fine, I just hate that you have to go through this. But anyhow I love you and call me if you have time, if not, I totally understand. You know I’m with you. Bye baby.” This was the message I received Monday night after my shift. It was my Aunt Donna touching base with me before my 9am surgery on Tuesday. I hadn’t given the procedure much thought. I had acknowledged it with my co-workers through casual routine conversation of when we each worked again. Nurses frequently ask, “When are you back?” It’s nice to know if you’ll be working with the same team, especially if our days are scheduled in a row. You get in a groove with those you work with frequently, which can help make things go smooth. But apart from a few mentions of being absent a couple of weeks, I hadn’t really discussed this surgery.

Is it because I consider it confidential or feel it exposes my privacy? Not at all. I didn’t call and tell anyone, or make a post, because it feels, after this many surgeries, it’s just not a big deal. I assume people probably get sick of hearing about it. I’ve got oodles of scar tissue, tightness and constriction, and sometimes it seems never ending. Same song. Five hundredth verse. [Not really, but too numerous to count.] I’m not going to lie. Sometimes I have a pity party. Sometimes I get so sick of this. No matter how many years go by, one surgery takes me back to the thoughts I had as a kid. Detesting the fact I was hunched over, barely walking, feeling like an old woman. As active and mobile as I normally am, one surgery takes me back. I try to minimize the dread. I try to focus on the perks of surgery, the nap and those warm blankets. And after reminding myself about some of the health issues people are facing, these surgeries seem like a breeze.

Nevertheless, I was reminded Tuesday how blessed I am with so many people who care. By way of my Mom’s Facebook post came numerous messages, calls and texts, even a pie, cupcake and flowers from my sweet neighbor. It got me thinking… how often do we cut ourselves short of love? By keeping quiet I was cutting short the care and concern people I love wanted to show.

While there are some things I hold personally quiet, most of life I feel blessed to share. After all, life is about living, and living encompasses the people we’ve been given to share this life with, so why put up barriers? Disconnection happens when we guard ourselves and it can fade into the dangerous effects of isolation. What an opportunity for the enemy to convince someone that no one cares.

We told the kids a few days before about my surgery. We discussed the plans for the time I’d be down. Mom having surgery can be scary for kids, but they handle it well when they know there’s a plan. And I was surprised when my daughter asked if she could go with me. I had never given it any thought that she had no idea the processes involved in going in for an operation. So Brandon and I told her if it was okay with her teachers and her schoolwork, then absolutely she could go.

This time was very different for me. It’s what I would even consider special. Mothers always want to be the caretakers, the comforters, the one in control. The tables were turned for me Tuesday. My precious girl walked through the doors with me when they called my name. She sat near when the nurse started my IV, something Brooklyn had never seen before. She watched as Dr. Kirk came in to make his surgical markings. She prayed with her Dad and me before I headed out of the pre-op area. She waited those three hours of my operation and listened intently as Dr. Kirk drew explanations of the procedure. Brooklyn helped me get dressed and put my shoes on for me. She escorted me to and helped me in the car. As humbling as it was, I am grateful for the opportunity to have seen my daughter as I did the other day.

In the realities of this injury, stood the miracle of it. While twenty-six years ago my family was focusing on when it would be “over,” the reality was never. My life will never be what it would have been. Life will never be the same, but life is still good. In some ways, I think it is even better. When faced with never walking again, being able to is treasured. When weighing the chances of a fulfilling relationship, having one is gold. When accepting minimal possibility of pregnancy, children are everything. While most people don’t set their minds on mobility, marriage or children until the topics present themselves, I thought on them from the delicate age of seven. I feared I had lost everything, before I had the chance to live it. Therefore, today, it’s hard to focus on that which was lost when there’s so much that’s been given.

The focus isn’t on the scars or the pain, the repetitive surgeries or the inconvenience of recovering. For me, the gift isn’t merely about living and having survived the injury. My focus is on what I thought I’d have to live without. And both were represented and very present with me on Tuesday, the hope of a family, my husband and my child.

It is a big deal. Surgeries can be complicated. None are without risks. But what’s a bigger deal? Having the strength to face them. Having the love of my family and my friends. It’s a big deal to my heart having others concerned for me. I am filled with joy for what I’ve been given, overwhelming joy.

Colossians 1:11-12

We also pray that you will be strengthened with all His glorious power so you will have all the endurance and patience you need. May you be filled with joy, always thanking the Father. He has enabled you to share in the inheritance that belongs to His people, who live in the light.

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