The Best Prize

The days are long but the years are short “- Gretchen Rubin

Nobody ever mentioned to me when I was in the thick of exhaustion in the jungles of diaper changing, wiping 4 snotty noses and toting a million pound diaper bag on my hip that while those days were busy and hard, how equally hard it would be to be standing at the brink of new phases in my children’s lives like the one I am currently in.

I officially have a high school senior. And while I could be in much “older” phases and stages, here is where I am, thanks to 8 years of infertility. I love where we are. It is so much fun watching my children fashion themselves into the free thinking, unique, amazing almost adults that God has created them to be.

It’s really started sinking in that my birdies are so much closer to stretching their wings and flying from the nice safe nest we have provided for them. As I ponder that, part of me worries that I didn’t do enough to prepare them for life and that maybe they won’t be successful in their endeavors which will of course reflect my parenting. But, this! this time, this very age and stage is part of their own God given journey. As I reflect a little deeper, I know that our biggest goal has been to raise God honoring beautiful humans who will carry HIS love into our dark and often hopeless world.

Why haven’t I heard much about this stage? Maybe I wasn’t listening well? I realize that this stage is so much more “private” then the stages of posting the funny quotes of my 3 or 4 year old. Now mom’s Instagram is suddenly old school and I post more cautiously so as to protect and hopefully not embarrass my loves. Watching them navigate new relationships and praying more fervently then ever that God will bless them in their quests as they honor him is suddenly not really about me at all. The fun and sometimes outright amazing scoop on those relationships is not mine to spill.

I have one more school year with my oldest then she’s got plans that quite frankly terrify my on one hand and make me so proud I could burst on the other. I already set some boundaries on my calendar for the next year. I want to be more present, a lesson I never thought I’d need to relearn. I am looking for those memory making special opportunities like the one I happened upon this week. It’s so simple, it made me feel silly at its obviousness.

Recently I attended a party where we were invited to take a jar of homemade salsa for the birthday girl to judge. I used to be known for my salsa and really did enjoy making it! But I got busy. Low and behold out of the 8 entries, my salsa was picked by the birthday girl as “the winner”. I told my family as they hungrily watched me spoon the last spoonfuls into the jar that they could have the leftovers.

There really wasn’t any left and I heard my family muttering in the background about who was going to be the lucky one to finish the remaining bites of mom’s prize winning salsa. Over the next few days I made more to take to a dinner and again heard the wishes of those I love most who still were hungry for my salsa.

Tonight it hit me how simple it would be to make a batch for them, so I did. I chopped and diced and added all my secret ingredients because somehow like my mama before me, my recipes don’t always seem to turn out so well when I try to relay to my kiddos how to make them. I put it on the top shelf of the fridge with a note that said “because I love you…”

You should have heard the squeals when it was discovered.

The best things in life are like that. Simple. Mundane sometimes. Little. Not necessarily prize winning but important none the less.

Impossible Possibility

Recently something happened in my day that gave me a flashback to some pretty scary moments that happened over two decades ago. Lowell & I were serving as missionaries in Haiti where we lived close to the beautiful Caribbean, far out in the boondocks away from the civilized world we were used to here at home. Electricity came and went and warm showers were a treat. Mostly we enjoyed the beautiful countryside, learning another language, rice, beans and goat from the roadside stand, and year around sunshine.

We had been there several months when I got super sick with what ended up being malaria. Lowell had gone out into the fields to help on a project, leaving me alone. I knew I was pretty sick and when the thermometer beeped at 103.8 I knew I had to get help as nothing I was doing to help myself was working. With blurred vision, I wobbled out to the closest working truck and climbed in praying that God would let me find Lowell. I don’t remember a lot of the rest of that day. I just knew I was ever so cold from the air conditioner blasting on me as Lowell and our mission director, Leon bounced me along the almost impassable road on what normally was a 3 hour trip to the closest American doctor and his mission hospital. My tongue refused to cooperate when Lowell asked me questions. I was trapped alone in my head which was throbbing with pain unlike I had ever experienced before. I do remember telling Lowell that if I died, I didn’t want to be buried in Haiti. He struggled to understand what I was saying and kept trying to yank whatever covers I could secure away from my tight grasp. As we bumped along, the words from a song I knew and loved ran through my mind….”God likes to work when nothing else will. God likes to work when your back’s to the wall. When faith’s in the balance and you’re just about to fall…. They’ll be no mistaking when he blesses and heals….God likes to work when nothing else will.” They tell me I actually was humming in my delirium and it makes sense because even though all else is fuzzy, that song was on constant replay. When we finally got to the hospital compound, they gave me meds and finally let me have a small blanket. I have a faint recollection of the kind doctor praying as he checked me over. Then I was asleep.

When I awoke late the next morning, my fever had finally broken. My road to recovery was not easy but God did choose to allow complete healing.

I have thought back to those moments many times and have often referred to them as one of my Rock Ebeneezer moments, those spaces in time where God shows himself faithful despite what looks like impossibility. Living in a third world country provided many occasions to realize how necessary it is to see God for who HE really is! When the comforts we are accustomed to are not readily available or easily accessible, we are often “forced” into trust which is really where we should “land” first. After all, our Creator God, Abba Father and Divine Healer is much more capable than any human sources we may surround ourselves with. HE is so good…

Here’s a link to”my” song 😉

Luke 1:37 – For with God NOTHING shall be impossible…

Psalm 138:7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, thou wilt revive me: thou shalt stretch forth thine hand against the wrath of mine enemies, and thy right hand shall save me.

On a side note, the country of Haiti is currently in a time of tremendous unrest leaving most missions unable to be in the country to minister. Pray for the safety of our Haitian brothers and sisters and wisdom for the missions God has called to that hurting country!

Intentional Trust – “exchanging fear for faith”

2020 has been tough on a lot of people.   

“Our new normal” includes daily conversations about things we never used to discuss. Fear seems to be a factor in most discussions. Each of us has a very distinct opinion, often completely opposite of those we love.   Distrust of everyone we meet has sprung paranoia on us like the springing of a steel trap.  Each week brings new reports of how bad things are.  The mandated ways we are to live in this new normal change almost daily. The so called experts can’t even seem to agree. Our addiction to news via social media and watching the news have fueled anxiety and fear, ruined relationships and caused suicide and depression rates to skyrocket. 

As I have watched the effects of these changes on my family and friends, my mind has been drawn to the truth of scripture.  While it may sound cliche, it has been the soft landing place my weary heart has been craving. 

I still check into my social media accounts off and on but have found my spirit is quieter when I lessen my time spent there.  Big surprise to me – I found I can actually survive without facebook, instagram and snapchat on my phone, instead limiting myself to checking when on my laptop.

Just prior to Covid’s infamous start, I had spent yet another weekend in the hospital . My sweet friend Mary came to pray with me and shared some of her handwritten scripture cards with me.  I was so blessed by the very practical truths she shared with me straight from the pages of the Bible that I began to ask God to awaken my hunger for his word.  

He has done just that. 

As worry has increased and uncertainty about how tomorrow, the next week, month or year may end up, I have found myself turning repeatedly to God for his comfort and truth. It has taken me being intentional about getting into his word, that has brought the rewards of peace and calm in a time of overwhelming stress and anxiety.

I am going to share just a few precious promises that have become dear to my soul and hope you will share some back!

Matthew 11:28 – Come unto me all who are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.

Psalm 92:12 – The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree:  he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon.

Psalm 4:8 – I will both lay me down in peace and sleep; For you alone, O Lord, make me to dwell in safety.

Psalm 56:3 – What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.

Psalm 29:11 – The Lord will give strength to his people; the Lord will bless his people with peace. 

I obviously love the Psalms!  David, the author, shows over and over how human he was and how God was his only hope despite numerous too big for man situations. 

What are your go-to scriptures for combatting worry and fear?  Share them in the comments or send me a message.  Let’s be intentional about encouraging one another in these dark times!

Ice Cream & Flat Tires – A Quarantine Field Trip

Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble. Matthew 6:34

We recently acquired an old dilapidated 1978 semi trailer we want to use for storage for an upcoming family project.  This past Saturday was designated as pickup day. The day dawned bright and clear, a happy upgrade from the dreary skies and snow of the week prior. I offered Hunter the chance to ride with Lowell in the semi on the trek to Sumner, a town about 100 miles away. He declined, which was how I had secretly hoped his response to be. I joined Lowell in the small bouncy passenger seat of the semi he borrowed from work, both excited and nervous at what the day would bring. 

Upon arrival at our destination, the true condition of our purchase met our eyes. Several hours and much frustration later plus me learning more about tires than I cared to, we ever so slowly crept out the dusty farm drive with our slightly precarious newest belonging in tow.  Had it been my choice, we would have gone home and returned the next weekend with a truck load of tools and supplies to make our purchase road safe. I happen, however, to be married to Mr. Fixit himself and his choice was to take the scenic route home and hope for the best. I located a tire shop that had just closed 15 minutes prior who agreed to sell us a used tire just in case.  

So off we started.  

My job was to keep an eye on my side of the trailer via the rear view mirror.  As I observed from my bouncy post, I envisioned pieces of black rubber exploding onto the country roadside and the flashes of the DOT officer vehicles coming to apprehend us for being unsafe citizens. 

Despite my apprehension, the trip continued splendidly.  Farmers out in their fields, families out on walks and new blooms on the trees along with the greenest grass I have seen this season filled our view.  Because our speed couldn’t get too high, we noticed many things we’d otherwise have been speeding along too fast to see. 

We found the most delightful ice cream shop, a cute little mom and pop place called Tootsies.  The smell of grilled burgers wafted out the windows as we placed our order off a menu the size of Texas.  As we waited on burgers, Lowell found another little mom and pop hardware where he procured some more tools for our small stash.  

I don’t think I have ever been so relieved to see our driveway.  Both of us sighed in relief at having made the trek safely with our arrival time being only about 5 hours later than we had expected. 

Later as I pondered the day, I was suddenly overcome with emotion at the fun day I had had with just my hubby.  It was both spontaneously fun and nerve wracking, anxiety producing and entertaining.  

Life has been kind of like that lately. 

I have fluctuated back and forth from enjoying the uninterrupted time with my family to wishing they could leave me in quiet for just an hour. I have loved not having to get up and ready for work but still spend portions of each day freaking out at the lack of income. 

Quarantine has been a gift.  

Perspective seems to be the only thing we can currently control. 

I’m exceedingly grateful for God’s gifts, like rides home on the scenic route.  He has ways to calm our worry and remind us of the beauty in the world around us!

He is good.

Times & Seasons

“And the God of all grace who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 1 Peter 5:10 NIV”

Today is not only the start of a brand new day, but a brand new season for me. Through an extended period of illness for me, we made the decision as a family to put both our daughters into the public school. Having known nothing else but the homeschooling I have done for almost a decade, I feel a little lost when I get up in the morning, even though I still home school my 7th grade son.

As I look back on our journey, I see very clearly how God’s divine hand led us to and through the places we’ve been. I did not set out to home school. But after many years of infertility and also having worked as a teacher’s assistant I went gung ho into the process.

It was indeed the best yes for our family’s season as we grieved the sudden loss of Abby. Grief can not be hurried or placed on a time table. We were able to putter about and do what needed doing in that time.

Back to the present…I have always loved writing and for as long as I can remember have written. I come from a heritage of writers. My grandfather was a devout Amish man who from my earliest memories sat holed up in his office pecking away at a manual typewriter writing for the Family Life magazines he founded or the Amish newspaper, the Budget. As a young child I pondered how one could possibly spent all that time tucked away.

I get it now. It’s in my blood.

My uncle Ira is soon releasing his second book after his first called “Growing up Amish” became a New York Times best seller. Along the way I’ve picked his brain and he’s always been super encouraging.

Both men are my inspiration.

Over the years, I have had much encouragement to write. As I have spent time exploring God’s call on my life, it has become apparent that writing may just be a piece of that puzzle.

Though I don’t yet know if me writing is for the greater good, or simply for my own healing and encouragement. I do know God has offered me the gifts of time, a support network, and a small platform where I can make my mark on my world, all gifts I can not refuse.

Our guest speaker at church yesterday, John Troyer, spoke directly into my vision. He talked of being plucky and asked us to raise our hands if we saw ourselves as that. Only one or two did. He then went on to explain that plucky is defined as “having or showing determined courage in the face of difficulties” I was to intimidated to raise my hand but after church my sweet husband questioned me about if I had raised my hand. At my reply, he stated quite abruptly that plucky defines me perfectly.

John explained how we are all pretty much created fully and completely average. Reassuring, isn’t it? But then we all have an assignment from God that is not limited by those around us. He finished by challenging us to remember that pluckiness keeps going and how each of us must allow God’s dream to be planted in us.

So, today, with my dream in hand I set out on a new adventure. It may seem a little scary and a whole lot intimidating, but I have a finished manuscript that has already passed several editing processes and just needs me to be brave enough to write an actual proposal, so I can get it published. I choose to embrace my new season with joyful anticipation because I know who’s with me.

“The Lord himself goes before you and will be with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you. Do not be afraid; Do not be discouraged….Deuteronomy 31:8”

Creative Chaos ~ Inviting Children Into The Kitchen

If you’re anything like me you might shudder at the thought of having your young ones help in the kitchen.  After having 4 babies in 4 years, the many needs of littles took precedence over my love of cooking and baking.  

Now as I navigate through what was once my haven, I sigh as I remember my clean, organized, pre-motherhood kitchen.  Remnants of toast and strawberry jam occupy one corner, while a dirty pot someone warmed hot chocolate in sits unwashed on the burner.  A jar of peanuts with the lid half off sits beside my flour and sugar canisters. 

Can you picture it?

Now, don’t let me mislead you with the title, I am not always an inviting mother.  My descriptive tag could usually more accurately be “momzilla”. I confess that on any given day,  there may be frequent grumping and loud roars at my young one’s attempts to help me in what I consider to be my space.  Sadly, I am guilty of crushing tender hearts, sending them away in tears as I huff and puff, hurrying to just get done. 

As my children have grown into independent human beings with definitive tastes of their own, it has become more challenging to prepare a good balanced meal everyone consumes willingly.  

Each meal turned mom into an on demand, short order cook. The realization of how little my children actually knew about the kitchen and what happens there reinforced the reality that my impatience and inability to share my space was actually doing my children a huge disservice. 

Since we are a home school family, I decided to implement food prep and time in the kitchen into our schedule.  Each of my children, ages 13, 12 & 10 now cook independently or at least help me cook on their scheduled day. Doing so has forced me to be intentional in not making our schedule to full, a big key to a harmonious shared space.  My own grumpy doesn’t seem to sneak out as easily when we aren’t rushed. Plus, each meal has some kind of learning involved. Both reading and math are present in our menu, which is my sneaky way of practice for the one that struggles.  Surprisingly, I must say that involving my children has greatly decreased the appearance of the picky eating monster and I’m delighted to simply cook one meal that all enjoy. Watching their creativity as they plan, prep and prepare their meals has made my mama heart proud.  

When our oldest daughter was about 8 or 9 all she wanted to do was concoct her own recipes.  Though some things did not turn out as she envisioned, she came up with some yummy treats like chocolate apple pie. (it’s really quite delish!)   While she would rather be out playing volleyball, she never ceases to amaze me with her meal plans and foodie ideas.

Daughter number 2,  is my naturally born chef and at age 10, literally spends daily time serving us.  I find her entertaining to watch and wonder often what God is preparing her to be and do.  She tastes and samples as she goes, making sure each flavor comes through just right. She’s become quite the salsa making expert and loves coming up with healthier dishes for us to enjoy. Some days when ingredients are smeared all over the stove and every square inch of counter space, I have to bite my tongue and gently and quietly help her learn how to properly clean her cooking space when she’s finished with her creations, which is a life skill in and of itself.

Recently as the family bemoaned the fact that there was no dessert to be found in the house, my son asked if we could try making our own biscotti.  I had no idea at that point, that he even knew what biscotti was, but we had a bunch of fun looking through recipes till we found the perfect one. The whole container full was gone in about 48 hours so we set out to make them again, adding more of our own personal flavors the second time around.  While they still have sugar in them, it is less than a traditional cookie and I feel like I am serving a bit of a healthier option. Plus he and I made some great memories in the process. 

Here are some of our kid tested and approved recipes that are used on a frequent basis. 

Fresh Salsa

1 hot pepper

1 cucumber (optional) 

1 bell pepper

3 cloves garlic (crushed)

4 sprigs fresh cilantro (or 1 T dried) 

1 small onion

1 qt canned tomatoes (drained)

Juice of 1 lemon or lime (about 2 T) 

½ T salt

I allow my children to use the food processor when I am present.  It has been the easiest way to prepare this quickly unless you love chopping. 

Place all ingredients into food processor except for the tomatoes. We like to see and taste the individual flavors so we just pulse till nicely blended not pureed. 

Place chopped items in serving bowl and do the same with the tomatoes. 

Mix gently.  Refrigerate till serving time. 

This has become a staple in our home as it tastes fresh even in the dark days of winter. It is the basis of several meals and snacks including hay stacks and wet burritos both of which can be a yummy way to incorporate fresh veggies. 

King Arthur Biscotti

6 T butter 

Scant ⅔ c sugar

½ t salt

3 t vanilla

½  t almond extract

1 ½ t baking powder

2 eggs

2 cups flour

Add ins – our favorites are any kind of nuts especially peanuts and pecans, chocolate chip (white or milk).  We usually add about 1 to 1 ½ cups into the dough at the end.

Side note: We found this original recipe on my favorite King Arthur Flour website. I have found that these seem to turn out better using that flour. 

Preheat oven to 350.

Line 13 x 18 baking sheet with parchment paper. 

In large mixing bowl, beat butter, sugar, vanilla and almond extract, salt and baking powder till creamy.  Beat in the eggs. At low speed, add flour. Lastly gently fold in chosen add ins. Dough will be sticky. Divide dough in half and shape it into 2 logs about 10 inches long by 2 inches wide and about ¾ inch tall.  Wet a spatula and use it to smooth out the surfaces, making sure each log is the same thickness so that they will bake evenly. Bake the dough for 25 minutes. Remove from oven. Using a spray bottle filled with room temperature water, thoroughly spritz the logs making sure to cover the entire surface. Reduce the oven temperature to 325.  Place trays back into the oven for 5 minutes, then pull out and slice into ½ inch slices with a bread knife. Set slices on edge and place back into the oven for another 20 to 25 minutes or until they start to feel dried out and turn golden brown. 

Transfer to a baking rack to cool. We store in large glass jars. 

We love sipping/dunking these into hot chocolate, chai, coffee or even just plain cold milk. 

Our Favorite Family Salad Bar

Lettuce and/or other greens (I have learned my family loves the butterhead lettuce I purchase pretty much year around at Costco.)

Cucumbers

Peppers

Onion

Carrots

Broccoli

Cabbage

Eggs

Cheese

Bacon

Grilled Chicken, steak or turkey (Can grill a large batch and freeze for later!)

Various dressings

Recently some health challenges spurred me into thinking about incorporating even more veggies into our diet.  While I don’t usually run into issues with desserts and yummy main and side dishes, getting my kids to choose to eat salad seemed impossible until I started asking them for input on what they think might be salad topping. I have found that my children are fascinated with and love to use my kitchen gadgets.  This makes chopping, shredding and dicing a breeze. We serve each ingredient in a separate bowl, as I have found allowing each family member to assemble their own salad makes for a much happier meal time. 

The protein options actually make this a super simple and complete meal that leaves even my big eaters full. 

While I still am guilty of displaying a less than Christ like attitude to my children when they come into my kitchen,  I find it helpful to recall how patient Christ is with me in the learning process messes that I make. I am also painfully aware since my youngest daughter died suddenly,  how quickly life can change and that we may not always have the children we take for granted.  

God has gifted us with them and instructs us to teach them in the way they should go. Teaching takes time and patience.   I can’t help but think there can’t be a much more fun (and delicious) place to do so than in the kitchen. 

Finding My Place

Before I begin,  I want to emphasize:

*1. I am writing in the spirit of Proverbs 11:14 where it says “Where there is no counsel, the people fall; In the multitude of counselors there is safety”  

I am hoping to spark a discussion on a subject that has been kind of taboo.  It may not be an issue in every church and community but it has long been causing controversy, pain and division in my circles.

*2. I could journal privately…some say that may be better.  Words can’t be unsaid. However, this post has been brewing for many months. I released it last fall, and in typical Dorothy fashion caused a stir so I took it down, prayed and edited more. SO thankful for Godly mentors who have been a part of the journey to the re- release.

*3. I am not a radical secular feminist.  I believe God has distinct roles for women. He loves us and created us to bring glory to Him. 

That said, I do believe that Christianity through the centuries has fueled the fires of the ugly side of radical feminism by treating women as “less than” and allowing heinous abuse to continue under the guise of “Godly” male leadership thus encouraging many groups to succumb to embracing a shame culture…

I have bumbled about in my writings and have sometimes posted what some consider to be controversial. I’ve been told I make people squirm and feel uncomfortable, like when I posted on my own blog,  something very personal that happened to me in a 2014 blog, titled “The value of women in the church”. Can be found here: https://dorothymiller.org/2014/01/

The downside of what I have been told are my giftings are the facts that I can be bossy, overly dramatic, pushy…overbearing.  That is not my heart. 

  A while back, at a roundtable discussion of a Christian organization I belonged to,  the moderator read an anonymous comment from someone apparently irritated at how women were becoming “noticeable” in the workings of the group.  While the discussion that emerged didn’t necessarily agree with the comment, other females in the group (myself included) began to question if we were truly stepping out of place. 

This questioning  brought old yuckies out of the dark closets of my being. Part of the comment questioned if women should be “allowed” to pray out loud in public settings.  

Suddenly, I was back in time a few years, cheeks burning, wishing I could fall into a hole in the ground. I had just requested prayer for a female friend who was in a tough situation. As I turned to sit down, the group leader handed me the microphone and asked if I would stand in the gap and pray for my friend.  (Up to that point women in that group had not been asked to pray in public so I was unsure what to do.) I stood there, hands trembling as I watched the next few seconds unfold. It seemed what I had been asked to do was not proper “politically” in that setting, but I felt God’s strength and stood ready. Soon though, amidst mumbling and convo I couldn’t catch, the microphone was snatched out of my hands and a man was praying. It was ok.. but the humiliation was enough to want to make me bury myself for a thousand years.

As I continued processing the questions,  I felt hurt, devalued, a little angry maybe, and now even more unsure of my role and place in that particular group.  I began praying fervently that God would help me find HIS truth.  

After another sleepless night, I got up and started diligently searching the scriptures.  They are packed full of tidbits of wisdom and truth and are filled with all manor of commands, to love, to exhort, to be like Jesus and how that looks.  Now bear in mind that I am not a Biblical scholar by any means, though I do enjoy a good word study. This is where I came out at.

The 2 passages that have often been the basis for the role of Christian women, focus on what women can not do and from what I understand, basically refer to women not teaching or preaching to men in a church setting.  1 Corinthians 14:34 says “the women should keep silent in the churches. For they are not permitted to speak, but should be in submission, as the Law also says”.   1 Timothy 2:12 says “I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet”

There are many more instances in the Bible, especially in the New Testament where women are mentioned in a positive light/what they CAN do and showcase the fact that women were indeed involved in the early church.  

In Acts 16 Lydia is mentioned as one of the first to come to Christ and upon her conversion openly used her gifting of hospitality and invited Paul, the famous missionary to stay at her home. 

In Acts 18, Priscilla is mentioned along side of her husband Aquila as an example of people who actually mentored the Apostle Paul.  

In Romans 16, Phoebe served as a deacon (imagine that!) and supported the work of the church through seeing the needs of the saints.  

Acts 21 mentions the great evangelist, Philip and his daughters who were prophetesses (not a real quiet or perhaps socially pleasing calling…) 

Women in traditional Christian settings typically serve on food and sewing committees and occasionally teach Sunday school,  all of which are worthy needed parts of what makes organized church happen.  

But if we are going to say that we take 1 Corinthians 14:34 literally, then are those “offices” even ok? I may sound fanatical in asking that but really…

Passages like Romans 12 speak of the many parts of the body working together to make the Body of Christ what it is.  Are women not a part of the body?

Quite frankly I’m thinking my husband is NOT wishing to be more busy in the work of God’s church, but if women are to be quiet and only speak at home he may have to.

I don’t want to be guilty of pulling out scriptures and making them say what I need them to say.  

I fully understand that as women (and men too) our giftings and the way God created us must be tempered with his love, grace and the constant infilling of his spirit so that things will always be done to bring HIM glory. I am trying fervently to understand what God wants women to be in his church and how that really looks?

So I write here, and as I said at the beginning, am hoping to spark discussion that will shine the light brightly on God’s truth.  I thought incorrectly that when I got to the ripe old age of 40 that the Bible would be more clear and that stuff wouldn’t be so murky. 

I am finding that seeking the truth is imperative to my survival as a daughter of God. As a mother of a 13 year old female who asks many of the same hard questions that I do and who mirrors in sometimes scary ways my own nature, I must find what God really says so I can help her find her foundation in Him.

There is no doubt in my mind that each and every one of us is specially designed and created with value and purpose!

I’d love to hear your thoughts!

Discounted Miracles

We as Mennonites are real big into discounts.  The cheaper the better.  There’s nothing inherently wrong with that…
I do think how ever, that we do a tremendous disservice to the name of Christ when we “discount” the miracles He does in our lives.
Like the most recent “big miracle” in my personal life…
Don’t get me wrong. I think miracles happen around us daily but we must have the eyes and mindset to realize them…..
Back to my big one.
Roughly 3 and a half months ago I was hospitalized for what we know now was sepsis (infection that somehow got into the blood) and an ugly kind of staph. I knew I was sick.  But because I had been sick for so many months prior I did not realize the seriousness of my condition till after I was on the mend. 



I will never forget the parts of the day I can remember. I had been hospitalized the night before. I knew they were fighting to keep my temp down. I was not in ICU but had all sorts of monitors and wires connected to every part of my body. I knew I was running a fever because I kept asking for just one more blanket.  That cold is unlike any other.  In the afternoon my friend Connie was standing by my bed and though I knew she was there, it took every ounce of effort in me to even open my eyes.  I could hear some of her words and tried to respond but it felt like I was trapped in a tunnel.  My arms would not obey my commands to lift in response to commands of the attending drs and nurses. My tongue felt like it was about 10 inches thick and would not cooperate to form words.  They pushed me somewhere in a wheel chair to do a brain scan and it was all I could do to muster up enough energy to get from the bed to the chair.  I know they were trying to get me to chat with them cause they told me so later, but all I could do was sit with my pounding head in my hands.  I was dizzy and cold and just wanted to sleep and I wanted them to stop their endless chatter because it really hurt my head.  Connie, in the meantime, being a nurse, saw and understood the gravity of my situation and called my pastor’s wife and told her I needed urgent prayer.  Apparently that is the exact text that went out on our prayer hot line. At the very exact moment my text message ding came through on my phone which was laying close to my bed, which I heard and comprehended that I heard,   my fever broke.  It was like waking up.  I could talk and move my limbs.  The headache was nearly gone and my very concerned doc was standing at my bed asking me if I knew my name.  I giggled at him and said of course. He told me he had been extremely concerned the sepsis had spread to my brain and wanted to do another kind of scan to confirm which we did and it came back just fine.   (Of course…)


                                              Rocking that very attractive hospital gown – post fever…


At first and many moments since especially when my doctor has introduced me as that patient that nearly died, I have though wellllll, it probably wasn’t quite so bad. I really wasn’t all that sick.  But this week a member of our extended family was hospitalized with septic shock and the statistics released on some of the prayer requests messages that came through were reminders.  Basically 50% of people who get sepsis die.   That’s half!  Half of the people don’t survive. 


                                               I went home with a picc line (not fun!)


But I did.  Yes the 5 different antibiotics coursing through my veins helped but God still has a plan for me and He chose to step in and show off at the very moment my church family got on their knees to intercede for me.  He provided my miracle. And you know what?  He has a plan for you too if you’re alive enough to read this! 
The miracles in our lives aren’t always the big splashy kind.  Sometimes it is the quiet reassurance of God’s love through the touch of a friend. Sometimes it is the unexpected anonymous check that shows up just when you need it most.  And then sometimes it is the prayed for healing.  But either way, MIRACLES HAPPEN!  It’s our job to notice them and then acknowledge the divine design of a Creator God who loves us more then we can fathom. HE is good!

It’s grief week…

Well folks, the time is here.
That time of year when Dorothy gets all sappy and posts a million things more in addition to her usual blather.
Grief week ~ year number 3.
I had made big plans this year to have everything be more normal, more low key.
Then death and terminal illness reared their ugly heads around me.  And due to my process, I have learned those to be trigger hot spots for my emotions.
So I sit to write the splattering of jumble bumbling around in my brain which should be comfortably asleep. 
Nope, the lovely PTSD is sending the old images crashing through the back corners of my mind.
Tonight I waited to go to bed till I was good and tired.  I took a long soak, talked to God a while and thought happy thoughts.  I was relaxed till the first second I laid my head on that pillow. I close my eyes and there she is scampering out the door in her purple 3 sizes to small swimsuit, tittering on her tippy toes cause the suit is still wet…and I am to busy to do what my gut says.

 

 

 
Regret on top of the flashbacks sits me straight up in bed, gasping for air, tight bands constricting my chest.
I pray. 
I know HE is there, but so is the horror. 
So I resign myself to going where there is light to chase the dark away and where I can safely voice my inner struggle.  Here I write. More prayer and a good glass of bubbly are my aids.
 
 
We have tried many coping mechanisms. 
Some of them work. 
Some of them don’t. 
I internalize people’s words. 
I am sure much of what has caused much brooding was not so intended.
It’s that people pleasing part of me that does not always do me well.
A conversation last week which left me feeling like a squished bug,  firmed up the plan to “move on along” and “get on with life”.  It bothered me when it was so spoken, but man! has it eaten at me ever since.  I wish I wouldn’t have been so complacent in my response. On one hand I wanted to punch the broad and yell that she had never faced this type of loss and that she should sit quietly by hoping that she never would, instead of issuing such branded statements.  But I sat there, smiled and agreed, even trying to point out ways we are moving along.
Now don’t get me wrong, moving along is all good and well and necessary. 
But grief is unpredictable.
The 100 miles we got ahead yesterday may be meaningless in the 101 we got set back today.
 
 
I feel we are relatively healthy emotionally for where we are and for where we have been.
Our counselor told me recently that our lives will most likely always be laced with PTSD as well as the happy now untouchable memories. It’s not the greatest of outlooks, but it’s ours so it’ll have to do.
 
We talk of death now as we would food and drink and other parts of daily life.
Some friends of ours had a miscarriage this week at 18 weeks along.  We talked of another sweet girl up with Abby.
Today we chatted about that family fun day we had with Thomas the tank engine just months before Abby died and how she acted that day. She was the only one not afraid of Sir Topham Hat. (yes…”Sir Topham hat was cross…”)  It made us all giggle. 
I think that’s the one thing I miss the most is her giggle.  Sometimes I fear it is fading so that I will not remember.  But her loud, rambunctious spirit came through in her laugh. Her smile really did light up a place.
 
 
 



 
I miss holding her and how after seemingly endless years, I was suddenly not mommy to a preschooler, just in the blink of an eye.
 
It hit me this week how odd it is to not sign cards from our family with her name.
 
I still feel lost and incomplete at times when we are all in the car, like I am there in just my under ware or that my purse is still inside on the counter. 
She is not there. Life is upside down.  We long for Heaven and Jesus and the day all will be upright once more..
 
I need to re do the bows on the fence where we feel she met her amazing Creator. They are tattered and torn.  They aren’t really all that sentimental but are from the first Abby memorial event we did. I was mowing close by the other day and almost couldn’t continue when I got close….Maybe this week I will have the energy.
 
Kali is heading to her first Bible camp and first week away from home.  We are both a tad nervous and I am sure that is not all that helpful for the process of trying to “feel” calm in this season.  She has openly asked us if she will die at camp.  Of course the question always takes me off guard and leaves me with that kick in the gut feeling.  I think we have handled it ok….
While it is a tough feeling I know she will thrive and have the time of her life this week. I know we have to encourage her to spread her wings. I know she can not “stay” with us forever. 
In the same breath I also know we are not guaranteed tomorrow.
I have thought a zillion times about how I made Abby stay at vacation Bible school just a few weeks before she died. It was good for her and she ended up loving it and after the first night or two of loud screeching and hiding behind my legs.  I wonder if I had known I was down to just a few more weeks with her if I had not chosen to block off the calendar and spend every single possible moment with her?
I know I have to come to grips with the anxiety that “normal” parents probably face too and balance that with my grief infused life and then turn the whole lump over to the one who has faithfully provided sustenance and hope in this awful journey.
But let me tell you, It ain’t easy.
As I sit contemplating the week ahead, I know we will continue actively walking the grief road.
I know we have progressed and made choices that are our families best yes in the yucky. I know we have a wonderful support network who won’t forget. (You have no idea the gift that remembering her is to us…)  I know we will most likely shed a few tears as we remember. And I know God is not tired of our tears and continues to give breath when we don’t always know where the next one is gonna come from.
For this I am so grateful.
 
And I am grateful to each of you for continuing to walk this painful journey with us.  Your love and support means more then words can say….
 
 
Abby Marie Miller
9/14/10 ~ 7/15/14
 
 
 
 
 

Faithfulness

Great is the Faithfulness O God my Father…

My 3rd child is 7 today. Alexia Magdalene.  Named after my mother. 
 I can not browse through the photos of her birth and the time surrounding with out a teensy bit of sad seeping through the cracks and crevices.  

 2008-2009…That was a hard time. The hardest I had known then.

 Lowell & I had just experienced loss in huge ways….our business, home and our marriage were broken, falling apart at the seams.  
At 8 months pregnant I went to stay with my parents under the pretense of wanting to give birth in one of those fabulous free standing birthing centers (that was the truth…) But I was hurting, beaten down and with out hope.  I spent most of the time carrying her in tears.  I wonder if that is part of her personality and brooding nature now. Even though God was at work, it was hard to see at times in those long 11 months we were apart. I didn’t know if God was going to do a miracle and save our marriage which lay in shambles. BUT, God was close.  Closer then I had experienced and I grew tremendously in Him that year. He has that habit…sneaking into the bad places where He seems the furthermost away and doing his redemptive work. 

We were in the minority of couples that are able to reconcile and continued on life’s road. Our reconciliation produced instant proof of God’s mercies when Abby was born 9 months after we got back together. Her name Father’s Joy was proof of God’s power and redemptive favor and joy in us and our growing little family.

As we have lived through the grief of losing Abby, we have seen time and time again how God’s faithfulness shines through. 
Alexia has been traumatized immensely in the loss of her younger sister and built in playmate and near twin (not quite 18 months separated them)
 Despite the grief she is a spunky darling bundle and brings much joy to our home even through her spots of melancholy. 


She is growing into quite the young lady.  She loves to spend time following me about, baking and cooking. She loves fairy tales and all things princess.
 She is silly and giggles and love.




So as we celebrate another year of the beautiful gift of her, we marvel again at the story that is being woven with her life and how God’s faithfulness is obvious.  
He truly is good and amazing in gifting us with the preciousness.
Happy Birthday Princess!