Category: motherhood

Beauty In The Ashes – God’s Faithful Goodness In Our Seasons

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The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet with his love; He will sing joyfully over you. Zephaniah 3:17

I was asked to share my life story/testimony at our church women’s retreat this weekend. Honestly, I did not want to and was very begrudging at how God openly pulled me in that direction. As I began to prepare, I was again blown away at remembering HIS glorious goodness to our family as HE alone has carried us through hard things. I also want to note that this is not shared to solicit pity or say poor me but rather to bring glory to how God has been our provision!

Here is what I shared.

I was raised in a Godly home, with parents who taught me about God answers our specific prayers and modeled having a personal relationship with Jesus and what it meant to follow his word.  

I graduated from high school early, and soon went to Rosedale Bible Institute in Ohio where I had an Iowa roommate and unknowingly met my Iowa husband to be, who was in a room I apparently entered while trying to round up people for an activity. He vividly recalls thinking I was the most obnoxious girl ever.

After Rosedale, My roommate, Kari Kemp McGaffey, insisted I move to Iowa so we could be closer, so I very spontaneously moved to Iowa for what I intended to be for 1 year, to fill the last minute position as kindergarten teacher at Pathway Christian School. That was 30 years ago last fall. About 2 years in, I started dating her cousin after begging God for quite some time, that He, being the handsome hunk he was, would notice me and eventually he did. We talked marriage on the 2nd date, were engaged at the 3 month mark, and married on the 9 month anniversary of our first date. 

We settled happily into married life, and hoped for God to bless us with babies before too long. Soon after we married, we packed up and headed to help with a mission in Haiti for a year. We survived Y2K, getting robbed and me being very sick with malaria. We had a several hour drive to the mission hospital and on the way there my temperature topped out at 104. I was so sick and unable to communicate.  I do recall trying hard to tell Lowell that if I died, I really wanted him to take me home to Iowa to bury me. He could not understand what I was trying to say and at about that moment, I remember an old Southern Gospel song suddenly blaring through my mind. It went like this. 

“God likes to work when your back’s to the wall

When faith’s in the balance and you’re just about to fall

So there’ll be no mistaking when HE blesses and heals….

God likes to work when nothing else will” 

Lowell says I started making noises and I do remember trying to sing, but nothing was coming out except maybe a humming. God did step in and heal me as I am obviously still here and didn’t have to come back to Iowa in a coffin. 

Soon after our 3rd anniversary, we came back to Iowa where I worked various jobs..Pathway, Pleasantview, Walmart, Babysitting, waitressing and fun fact… I was part of a team that got an award for being the fastest McDonalds drive thru in the region. 

Then we officially entered God’s waiting room where we waited and waited on babies. 

The infertility season was hard. 

Several years went by and I kept reading in Psalms 127 where it says how children are a gift from the Lord and in Psalms 113 where He settles the barren women in her home as a happy mother of children. I repeatedly asked God where my blessings were and why he wasn’t answering my deepest desires of motherhood. 

We contemplated adoption and had discussed going to get a little girl in China. Instead we bought the restaurant I had been managing in hopes of fun times together since parenthood wasn’t happening for us. 

What we didn’t know is that I would get pregnant the very week we signed the papers.  We still didn’t know when I got on an airplane to go see my sister in Phoenix for my 30th birthday. I vomited most of the way from Iowa to Denver.  The flight attendant finally brought me a big black garbage bag with coffee in the bottom and asked me if I was pregnant. I shook my head. When we landed and I went to exit she says, “oh honey, are you SURE you aren’t pregnant because you sure look pregnant to me”. I responded quickly with “oh no! There’s no way.  It’s not possible for my husband and I”….

But after slurping pepto bismal all weekend, I thought I would take a test just in case. Now let me tell you, I should have bought stock in pregnancy test companies. I had not ever had a positive test until early that Monday morning. And just so we never forget God’s miraculous provision, I actually have that pregnancy test in a shadow box on the picture wall in my kitchen.

I went on to have a high risk pregnancy and a major surgery for a torsioned ovary in my 7th month. I spent the rest of the time on bed rest and drove myself to the hospital on several occasions because poor Lowell was so incredibly busy trying to keep the restaurant afloat. I would drive in, get whatever meds I needed at the moment, to grow baby’s lungs or stop labor, lay there a few days, then drive myself home. I did a lot of feeling sorry for myself during those months and was so lonely with no family close. Then on February 22, 2006  at 36 weeks I gave birth to a healthy tiny precious baby girl Kali Ruth. It was a magical time and we thought we had our one and only miracle only to find out when she was 7 months old, that Hunter was on the way, followed closely by the news of Lexi.  

During my pregnancy with Lexi, our life fell apart.  We lost everything that was physically ours including the business, our home, van, friends, our dignity and our marriage. We moved into an old house that had snakes in it. I stayed home with the older 2 and fielded calls from creditors threatening to come take my husband to jail. Lowell was angry, which I now realize was his response to feeling that he was a complete and utter failure who could not provide for his family. I was super hormonal and cried all the time. Our family was in shambles. We ended up separating and I moved 1000 miles away to live with my parents in South Carolina while we sifted through the rubble of what had been us. Though we did not separate with the intention of divorce, I did not know if it was possible for God to salvage what was so very broken. 

But OUR God is a miracle working God who specializes in restoration and healing of broken people. After 11 long months apart we were reunited and our work in progress marriage continues growing to this day. This summer we will celebrate 28 years.   

That season, though one of the most difficult to that date, was a time when I felt God’s presence in the most tangible ways and sensed him molding and shaping both me and Lowell.  He has allowed our story to be a tool for helping others who are struggling.  We have enjoyed hosting marriage events in our living room several times a year for the past few years and we continue to learn how to grow in our own relationship though we are far from perfect! And we always remind people that if God could fix our marriage, there is not a marriage out there that He can’t help!

Immediately upon our reconciliation, I got pregnant with our honeymoon baby as we dubbed her. Abby Marie was a teeny tiny big spirited person and we had 3 of the best years together as a family of 6. In 2012, God gifted us with 3 months of precious uninterrupted family time when Lowell broke both of his heels in a work accident and had to stay home with us. 

Then came July 14, 2014. 

It was the first warm enough to swim day of summer and Lowell had filled our small pool the night before. All 4 children excitedly gathered their things and headed out to get into the water. I was super busy that morning and actually ignored the prompting to go out and check on them. I hurried to my office to quickly finish a few projects when I hear the door open and Lexi who was 5, said the words I will never get out of my head. “Mama you need to come, Abby died.” 

That moment started the nightmare that never ends. Aircare landed and doctors worked on her on our back deck for over 20 minutes then transported her to UIHC. 21 hours later and about 30 minutes after my parents and sibling arrived, we made the agonizing decision to disconnect life support. The small ICU room was filled with family and friends, and some God sent people we did not even really know. We softly sang “Safe in the arms of Jesus…” and prayed quietly, committing her back to the Jesus who had gifted her to us. What I did not notice at the time was the group of muslim staff standing in the hallway observing us. A friend later told me they kept peering at our faces and looking puzzled. She explained that her experience had been that death in the muslim community was filled with loud crying and terror at the lack of hope. In the midst of our grief God was sharing a visible gift with others who needed Him.  

Then we began the longest week ever waiting for the autopsy.

I wrote about her death on my blog ( https://dorothymiller.org/abby/ )

We planned a funeral. 

I passed out at the viewing where over 1200 people came to wish us well. 

We were numb. 

A few weeks later as I sat at her grave, I looked up at the beautiful blue sky and told God I just didn’t know about the reality of him.  I reminded Him how I had faithfully served him and told him I just couldn’t fathom why he would do something so horrific like taking my baby girl away. I told him about how I didn’t know if he was really real or that Heaven was a real place. I asked if he could give me a sign letting me know he was real, that there was life after death, and that Abby wasn’t just done under that cold pile of dirt.

As I looked around, through my tears, I saw a used to be white rose that someone had moved from the casket spray and stuck into the mound of dirt. I began to pull on it and as it slowly emerged from the ground, the stem grew greener and greener and at the very bottom a small fresh new green leaf unfurled as it hit the light of the sun. In that moment, God said “look at the life in this rose you thought was dead. Just like the flower, Abby is not gone but with me and you will see her again. And I am really with you…”

I of course began to weep and thank God for showing himself in such real ways in direct answer to the prayers I had prayed just a few minutes prior. 

We had a social worker connected to us from the hospital.  She called often to check in on us. One day I was sharing with her about how encouraging it had been to hear from people around the world who had come to faith in Jesus after reading our story on my blog (which actually hit over 50,000 views.) I do not know if she was a person of faith but I have often thought since that she may have been with the ways she interacted with us. That day she said, “Dorothy you have no idea.  Your blog has been printed off and is being shared all over the hospital.” So, God in his providence gave me a platform that I really didn’t want, to share his story in ways with people that I would have had no connection with otherwise.

About a month into our journey of grief, Kali came in one night and told me she had thought about jumping out of the hayloft in the barn so that she could die and go be with Abby and Jesus. The social worker told me that if I did not get therapy quickly for all of my kiddos, that she would be forced to admit Kali to the psych ward.

I set out looking for a Christian based therapy place and found a local organization that got me in a few days later. The kids played with toys as I shared our story with the counselor, barely able to get words out through my heaving sobs. As I finished, she looked at me and asked what I wanted from her services.  I told her I wanted someone to walk through the trauma with my kids, that had a faith based perspective so that I could trust that Jesus would be a part of their healing and so that I would not have to hospitalize my 8 year old.

I will never forget my horror when she told me she did not have any trauma certifications and that no one in their office did either and therefore they could not help me.  She directed me to a secular psychiatrist telling me there was nothing in this field that was Christian and faith based. I drove home and took another dive through the yellow pages where I found Cornerstone Christian Therapy. The sweet lady upon hearing my brave blubbering attempt asking for help, assured me that they had the perfect fit and soon I was sitting in a meeting with Kendra Bailey. She sat listening with compassion, tears rolling down her face. I asked if she had the proper trauma training stuff to help us and could have danced when she assured me that she could and would gladly walk with us. That was over a decade ago, and my kids still all see Miss Kendra as needed. 

I have often said I don’t know how I could have raised my kids without her help. She has helped us navigate the tough conversations like why did our Abby have to die so people could get saved? By the way, Lowell was one of those salvations and his life is a true testimony of the changes Jesus brings. I have had a very different husband for the past decade. Another tough question was, why didn’t God hear our daily prayer for his protecting angels? Kendra has been such a Godsend and has always used her gifts to point our family towards Jesus. 

Now, Our family life is broken into 2 basic segments. 

When Abby was alive AND us after her homegoing. 

Divorce numbers are astronomical after couples bury a child. It has not been easy as we all grieve very differently, but God has been faithful and we have stayed married.  

The other big thing has been my health. Nearly all mothers who have lost a child encounter failing health in sometimes bizarre ways. I have not escaped that statistic, though I was conscious of it from the start. In one 18 month period from 2017 – 2019 I had 7 major sinus procedures, 2 hospitalizations for sepsis, an unexpected hysterectomy, a scary thyroid tumor and infection in my mouth that resulted in the need for complete dentures at age 44. 

I thank God for his healing and hope my 50s will continue to show improving health that He alone has granted. 

As I reflect on my journey, I often think about something my friend Char and I always used to say to one another. Maybe Lowell was unexpectedly late after work or one of the kids was super sick. After we survived the crisis, we would share together and one of us would say, Well, had you planned the funeral?” 

Now, I have planned a funeral. Despite the fact that I never thought my heart would keep beating if God needed any of my long awaited babies back, He has been our provision! I have been able to keep on living.  Not on my own strength, but solely on HIS. He has brought unexpected laughter and joy back into my heart and into our home. He has provided deep meaningful friendship with others who have been compassionate with us and love us as we are in all of our brokenness.

If you have heard anything that I have shared, I hope the take away will be that you always remember God’s faithfulness and His ability to handle our biggest questions and traumas. He truly is so capable and so so good…

Finding Rest in a Restless World

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Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28 NIV

Those who know me well will tell you I don’t rest well. I may be a great sleeper, but sitting at rest is challenging for my ever wandering mind. There are always chores to do, people to feed or loved ones needing time and attention. Over the past years, however, God has shown me over and over that he desires my resting time as much as he needs me to do the busy things he has created me to do. So, I am making efforts to carve out times to just sit and be still.

For me, being restless hasn’t just been the actual physical busy I find myself consumed with, but also the busy in my soul and mind. Last week after Kali left, I found myself in a new and very unknown stage where I was not familiar with the emotions or the ways my mind would run. I couldn’t understand the tightening in my chest, or the way that tears would constantly show up in unexpected spaces. I know some of that is indeed the changing of seasons but I found something else tucked quietly behind one of those walls in my brain that provided a big ah-ha moment.

One day as I was putting something away in Kali’s room, it was as if I heard a quiet voice saying “she’s not dead…she just grew up.” Duh! All of a sudden it hit me. My body was processing and equating this season with Abby’s leaving. Now the way my chest constricted made sense. I had felt these things in very real and painful ways before. My brain knew about those and so that is the path it took. I was able to verbalize my realization with a dear praying friend who validated what I was feeling. It felt good just saying it out loud and God used those moments to bring my heart to peace. I am so thankful for our sweet Father, who blesses us with all the parts and pieces we need to find true rest in Him. He is good.

**Completely on a side note here! Not a paid promotion! If you need God honoring Biblical based help in this area of the power of the brain, my friend, Iva has been a great resource to me personally in this area!

**Photo compliments of my Kali from her Costa Rican travels.

Minutes & Seasons – A Timely Space For Parenting Myths and Other Conundrums

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Autumn brings out that organizing and nesting part of my nature. Not that it isn’t present all the other seasons, but I get great satisfaction in pulling out my bin of fall decor and shaking some extra cinnamon on my hot chai.

While beautiful, September isn’t always an easy time as it marks the month my last baby, our precious Abby, was born (9/14/10) and reminds us of her absence in our midst. This year I find myself extra nostalgic about how fast my other babies have grown up. I find myself a bit apprehensive about the days and weeks ahead. Kali, our oldest, graduated from high school in May of this year, with highest honors I might add which is an absolute blessing for someone who is a diagnosed dyslexic. This grand occasion hurdled Lowell and I into uncharted territory…that place of having adult children.

I have always, from day one, adored being a mama. After nearly 10 years of infertility, my children are truly my gifts directly from heaven and a dream come true. While I had not had homeschooling on my radar, as time with my precious ones went on and it came time to make those schooling decisions, it was what we chose. I really had no idea if it would be something we would do long term. Apparently after 14 years, I guess it was a good fit though we have had a lot of various combinations along the way. Kali chose our local public school for high school which was the perfect fit for her. She was strong and rooted in her faith and shone God’s light brightly where ever she went. She developed an amazing network of Godly friendships, some of which continue post high school and have had far reaching blessings for our entire family. Hunter has always been super content to be home with me and has done a combination of home school and added in music at the public school, which has been his flourishing spot for sure. This year, Lexi joins him at the public school for marching band and also in her main area of interest, Culinary labs! We have found our perfect niche in that combo contrary to the myth that homeschoolers must always be just that – learners at home only. I am so so grateful for the options available in our district and state!

Somewhere along the line though, I missed the memo about how releasing our babies into the big wide world is not for the faint of heart. While I am fiercely proud of Kali and the beautiful woman of God she is, sending her far away (Costa Rica!) for an extended period of time (10 months!) is not all that jolly of a time, busting another myth that kiddos leaving home is just the best.

A hundred thoughts crash through my brain as I contemplate how normal of an occurrence launching children is. I wonder what my own mother felt as I left home and moved a state away soon followed by my little sister who moved several states away. I could never have comprehended the whale of emotion that accompanies this process. I am sure there are books somewhere on the subject but I am more of a have-a-friend-tell-me-about-it kind of person. As I have initiated conversation with other wise women who have walked this path ahead of me, I have gleaned many helpful realizations. People do this every day. I am most certainly not the first person on the planet to experience these emotions. While there is great joy in releasing our birdies to fly where God has obviously called them, there is also grief of sorts at the final closure of a huge and enormous chapter that has encompassed so much of our life as we know it. And yes, I am sitting here making lots of typing errors because of the leaking problem my eyes are encountering as I process exactly where we are. Never again will our household be just like it has been for the last 18 and a half years. While my assumption is that I will again have my 3 all living under my roof again, it won’t be in the same format and I know I have a whole lot to learn about being a parent to grown up children.

While my teenagers are most certainly not perfect and have blessed me with a few gray hairs, they are among my most favorite people! I am ecstatic that God has shared them with us for these minutes making up our family’s times and seasons thus far. And I am filled with the hope of enjoying a great many more joy filled moments together in the seasons he brings our way. He is so good!

My Adult Child #1 (Definitely not used to that term yet..)

My one and only son and high school senior
My beautiful and taller than me now newly licensed driver…

Us! In one of our favorite places…

Remembering Abby – Gone but never ever forgotten (9/14/10 – 7/15/14)

The Best Prize

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“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.

What Grief Is Not

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As the ebb and flow of my own personal grief continues, I remain astounded at the fragile sometimes painful ties that bind my heart to others who grieve. 

Conversations especially with other mamas who have lost often turn to what might be our own triggers for the resurfacing of what we thought was done like the way even driving past the giant University of Iowa hospital inevitably brings a fresh inability to breathe.  It doesn’t ever feel silly to express. In those moments each of us is completely understood.

Today for my husband’s hand surgery, we actually parked in the same spot in the endless parking garage where our van had been parked when we had to leave the hospital without her. I remember walking out holding my children’s hands, feeling like I was naked or like I must have forgotten my purse.  

Also noted is the keen awareness of loss when someone we know is experiencing trauma or shattering loss. My sweet friend Gloria, who I have actually not met in person, is living that as I type. She was a faithful prayer warrior as Abby lay connected to tubes and wires. She has checked in on me despite the miles since.  Now her young adult son is fighting for his very life as the result of a tragic accident in snowy Indiana weather over New Years. (prayers appreciated for her son, Collin) Watching her story from afar, rips the band aid off of my own grief and brings remembering the emotions and moments of our own story to the forefront.

Living through tragedy is an unwanted connection with people you may not have even noticed prior. It has often been a lifeline, a blessing in disguise but is not something one would wish on one’s worst enemy. 

Dusting off these emotional boxes of stuff I wish could just vanish, brings to mind things I have indeed learned through the process. People often ask me how to reach out when someone has lost or is living tragedy. While I wish there were a pat answer that would work across the board, there is not. Each of us is uniquely created by God not only physically, but emotionally so what may be helpful to me may mean next to nothing to some one else with similar circumstance. 

Recent conversation has once again freshened some things that remain at the top of the list that I share when someone really wants to know how to best reach out to others who hurt.  

#2. Grief is NOT a time for judgement.  

This is a tough one to navigate. Life has consequences. If my choices include over indulgence in smoking or drinking, my physical body may live out consequences like liver damage. If I choose to be morally “loose” with sexual standards, I may reap the consequence of a sexually transmitted disease. Overeating may result in diabetes or other weight related issues. The list could go on. 

While I do believe that our Creator God is just and as he says in his word we will reap what we sow, I do not believe that it is ever appropriate for us mere mortal humans to judge other humans on these issues especially when that other human has just experienced tremendous loss. 

I do not have the answers as to why Abby had to die at 3 years of age, but I still cringe at the quiet whispers of how it was most likely God’s judgement for our earlier marital separation and my wicked and rebellious spirit. 

I also know my sweet friend’s choice to allow her young adult son to attend a secular university was not the reason for his early demise as a result of nasty cancer. 

Yes, people actually do say these kinds of things. Well meaning or not, they are not words necessary in times such as these!

If you have “judgements” that just must be stated, hide yourself in your closet and talk to God about them! Don’t share them with others and most definitely please have mercy on the hearts of the grieving and don’t break their already fragile hearts into more pieces. 

Judgement is God’s job and HIS alone!

#1. Grief is NOT a time to expect normal.

Patsy Clairmont says it best. “Normal is just a setting on your dryer…”

Nothing will ever be normal after you have lost. 

This can be best explained when we look at those who have lost limbs. Yes, a prosthesis can be helpful! But that arm, leg or those teeth are still never going to be the same and will be daily reminders of what used to be. To expect someone to pop back to their old self is unfair and adds unwarranted punishment to the stress of continual grief. Part of our heart is gone. Life won’t ever be normal.

Grief is a time for you to muster all the care and kindness your soul has to offer and asking God for more when you start to feel emptied out .  It is checking in on folks in the weeks and months that follow, not just the day of the funeral. Pray. Take a favorite meal.  Send a plant. Write a meaningful letter that is not full of cliche things like Heaven got another angel or All things work together for good…It’s ok to say that you don’t know what to say. Let them know you care then watch for ways to be Jesus with skin on.

Most of all truly seek God’s heart on how you can minister best to those who are closest to your corner of the world!

A Spoonful of Comfort

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Today my precious baby should be turning 11. Instead we are in year 7 of her living in Heaven.

Grief has not been gracious to me pound wise. This year, I have taken some drastic steps to change my habits and hopefully my thought process in the kitchen, which has always been a haven to me in different seasons both grief and joy filled. While food is the center of so much, I am finding a new found zest seeing how yummy healthier can actually be!

While learning to turn to God for comfort instead of food, I can’t help but believe that he doesn’t condemn us for enjoying the beauty in the gifts he surrounds us with. I can’t imagine that He wouldn’t enjoy the tastes and smells of a ripe juicy peach or the smell of coffee brewing. After all He is the one who created us with emotions and the responses to them.

Recently I stumbled across a delicious peace crisp that I have been experimenting with. While I am still perfecting it, I found it to yummy to not share. It’s warm fall-ish smells filled my kitchen as it baked and did not disappoint when I scooped the first spoonful into my bowl. I was delighted to see the combination of ingredients contained very little sugar content and is happily gluten free. The nutty crumbly topping is my favorite.

A few things to remember if you try this recipe….

I have tried it with apples and it is equally delightful! Frozen peaches can be used though the end product is more runny. It is best when used exactly as written and with fresh peaches however today I tried maple syrup instead of the brown sugar and while it definitely doesn’t seem to brown as nicely it was still quite amazing.

Without further ado, here is the recipe!

6 peaches

1/3 c honey

2 T. cornstarch

1 t. vanilla

1/2 t cinnamon

Slice peaches and combine all items together in a 9×9 pan.

Topping:

1 c oats

1/2 c almond flour

1/3 c chopped nuts (I use pecans)

1/3 c brown sugar

1 t ginger

1/4 t salt

4 T softened butter

3 1/2 T greek yogurt

Bake at 350 for 35 min OR until crumbs are lightly browned.

Enjoy with a glass of milk or a scoop of Greek yogurt.

Must Have Muffins

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Over the summer, I came face to face with some pretty big decisions. With the last few years being ones I spent very sick, I had acquired quite a few pounds my doctors referred to as Prednisone pounds.

With some of the health challenges I have had, diabetes has been on the radar for quite some time. At my summer physical, my practitioner informed that now was the time to make some changes if I did not want to get to that actual diagnosis.

Since weight has always been a struggle for me, I was overwhelmed to think about what all this might mean for me. I have always enjoyed being in the kitchen. Baking is probably close to my most favorite pass time ever!

As I was praying one morning I opened up my computer and the first thing that came across my screen was an ad for the New Life Promise program. I haven’t ever felt so compelled and hopeful as I watched Isabel explain the setup of her lifestyle plan. So I paid the $49 and started off.

Since then, I have actually discovered how pleasant eating well can be. I am steadily losing pounds (16 at last check after 1 month on plan) and remain amazed at how full I feel. There are no special foods or calorie counting. I have even discovered how I can eat out with my family and friends and still stay focused on the goal. It takes thinking ahead, pre-planning and of course some experimenting.

After the initial phase, I am learning about making things that satisfy my sweet tooth. Most days I don’t feel like I am “dieting” at all even though it takes me a second to refocus when someone offers me a fresh yummy like peach pie. I still keep my Food Meets Faith cookbook on my counter, but am slowly but surely getting into better habits independently, that are so much more helpful to the body God has given me to take care of.

One of the things I keep around at all times is these muffins. Even my children like them. I make a batch each weekend and freeze them so I can easily pull them out for a quick breakfast or a snack to pack in my lunch bag when I head to work.

Almond flour is a bit different to learn how to bake with, but I have found it delish and very filling!

2 1/2 (Needs to be exact!) very ripe Bananas

1 T Softened Coconut Oil

1 egg

1 1/2 c Almond Flour

Pinch of Salt

1/2 t bkg. soda

3/4 c nuts (I use pecans)

1/2 c dark chocolate chips (preferably containing no or very little sugar)

Preheat oven to 350

Grease 8 muffin cups.

Mix all ingredients well and divide into muffin tin.

Bake for 20-25 min or until nicely browned on tops.

Let set in tins for 30 min. Use knife to make sure nothing is stuck before removing from tin.

Enjoy!

When Mother’s Day Is Hard….

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I used to love celebrations of most any kind. Don’t get me wrong. I still do. Mostly.

But as I’ve gotten older, the empathy in me has sometimes trumped my love of celebrating. I have struggled with the verse in Romans where it says “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep”….

What does this mean for us as Christians on days like Mother’s Day?

I have lived in a constant state of ambivalence on how this plays out between the exuberance of new motherhood and the grief of a mom who has lost.

As a new, young wife, my mind was filled with all the ways I might celebrate with my own babies as I watched my friends have 1, 2 or even 3 babies. Where was my blessing? What was the hidden sin preventing God from answering my deepest prayer. For many long years, I avoided church on Mother’s day because no one knows what to do with a wanna be mom on a day that celebrates motherhood. Yet, when my dreams did come true, I felt such guilt and deep sadness, when some close to me shared how my vocal pain had dimmed the joys of their first years of motherhood.

Finally I had my prayers answered. God granted my deepest desire. Then He decided He needed one of my blessings back. Once again I struggled. Well meaning souls reminded me that I should cherish my remaining children. Of course I did/do! But that does not diminish the pain of loss.

I’ve also struggled watching friends struggle with other aspects of Mother’s day.

Maybe their mom was abusive or stood by in silence as their father did the unthinkable to them.

Maybe they only carried their baby a few months, to short a time for the world to even know of the sweet painful existence.

Maybe motherhood never came their way.

Maybe their only child is no longer in the picture, either due to death or estrangement.

These are tough places! Ones with no pat answers.

I found Betsy Childs Howard’s writing intriguing. She says it well in her blog entitled “The Struggle of Rejoicing With Those Who Rejoice”…. Apostle Paul gives a compelling reason for rejoicing on behalf of other Christians: We are members of the same body. “If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together” (1 Cor. 12:26). If we are parts of the same body, then one Christian’s blessing is your blessing. What’s good for the foot is good for the leg and the hand and the eyes. Blessings are not a zero-sum game. There’s not a limited amount that God can bestow. If one part of the Body gets a blessing, it has not stolen it from another part of the Body or prevented that member from receiving the same good blessing in God’s perfect timing.

I have come to the conclusion that the secret to answering these tough questions is compassion. Compassion does not need to lessen the joy of celebration, but will seek God’s wisdom in how to bless those who struggle with kindness and empathy. It might mean instead of turning a confused blind eye, we take a moment to give a hug or send a note to the ones we know hurt on these special celebration days.

As time continues, I am indeed once again enjoying the celebrations of the day. So today I am relaxing with my 3 babies who are not so much babies anymore, while Hubby celebrates the day with his mom who turned 88 this week. I have loved watching their enthusiasm this week as we planned a totally leisure day that’ll probably involve homemade pie and seeing some pretty flowers and counting the blessings of togetherness! After all, It’s the Little Things.

Happy Mother’s Day to all of you! May God’s peace be with you today!

Blessed Are Those Who Mourn…

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“You keep track of all my sorrows.  You have collected all my tears in your bottle.  Psalm 56:8”

Pastor Steve read from Matthew 5 in his latest sermon. I have heard the Beatitudes read probably a million times in my lifetime. Never did verse 4 jump out to me like it did in this moment.  “Blessed are those who mourn…”

Blessed?  You’ve got to be kidding me!

Mourning is not particularly pleasant. 

Recently a caring friend asked me about how I felt about a certain aspect of grief. We talked about timetables for grief. We chatted about those we knew and how they grieve.  I find for myself that grief has been most unpredictable. Trying to find a place for her picture on my new walls has presented a challenge I could not have foreseen. But that’s grief.

As I sat re-reading the Matthew verse, I thought about how many times I’ve tried to imagine how my life would be without my daughter’s untimely passing.  While I feel like I have adjusted and am doing ok with the life altering loss, it still touches life in some way, almost daily.  Sometimes I don’t even realize how it slips its way in. 

I have had to come to grips with it (grief) entangling itself in what I say every single time I write.  I’ve wished it not to be so.  But it is. I have come to the conclusion that if my writing is truly a God calling, then apparently what I feel as I write must be the current message HE wants me to share in this place and time. And I have come to realize that it may not be for anyone else maybe, but simply for my own healing and wholeness. 


The rest of that Matthew 5 verse is so so precious.  “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted. “  It doesn’t say might or may, it says will! To me that is all the comfort I really need – the promise of the hope of a brighter tomorrow.  If not here, over there with the blessed comforter Himself!

Letting Go

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It feels sooo good to write again!

So much has happened since I was last here. I was blessed with the gift of nearly full time employment which in combination with building our home, homeschooling my son and just being wife and mom, has put a crimp on my personal leisure time. But some thoughts have been rolling around in my brain that I need to vocalize, so here I am.

I’ve been big on the phrase “hold it lightly”. It seems there’s very little in life we can truly control though if you’re like me you’d really like to think otherwise.

A few months before Abby died I went through a process of surrendering her to whatever God had. The process was grueling and intense and yet brought peace. Little did I know the unfathomable pain I would walk through a few short months later. I remember holding her cold, lifeless body screaming out to God for his help and mercy. Even as the flight medics worked on her, I had a quiet peace and a complete understanding that she was indeed with Jesus already and that medicine though so advanced was not to be her path. Realizing that over the nightmare of the next 21 hours was surreal.

I’ve really struggled since, understanding surrendering to God’s will. Fear has had it’s ugly grip on my heart causing me to shrink away into my reclusive corner whenever I’m faced with the reality of the frailty of life. I’ve wondered if vocalizing what scares me is an invitation of sorts for the inevitable to plague me. Like yesterday. My husband made a comment about his health. Instantly my heart went into panic mode. I couldn’t possibly go on without him. The house isn’t finished yet. The kids are still reeling from the traumatic death of their sibling. I want to grow old with him….. So many of the same thoughts that had crossed my mind in my process of surrendering Abby made their way to the forefront of the battle in my head. I couldn’t breathe.

Then, though not audibly, I heard God whisper, “Dorothy do you trust me with Lowell? He’s not really yours anyhow. He’s mine…”

Surrendering those we love or anything dear to us for that matter, is not an easy feat. Realizing however that everything and everyone we hold dear really does belong to God makes the exhausting process a teeny bit easier.