New Blog Site with Creative Writing

FYI for those that may be interested. I started a separate blog for me to post some of my "creative" writing (http://centurionstale.blogspot.com) . I picked the name since right now I am writing a third person omniscient acount of a certain Roman Soldier's experience of the events we now know as Holy Week, I can change the site name to something more generic later if needed. As time allows I hope to add some more... The first couple posts sort of set the stage for the events of Palm Sunday. My hope is to post some more throughout the week... We'll see how much time I get/make for this.

The link over on the right to "A Centurian's Tale of Holy Week" will take you to where you can view the story if you'd like to read it.

This TIme It Worked... Thank Goodness!

Just a quick update... Brady's MRI is now complete and we are back home awaiting results. Once they finally came out for us, they took him back quickly and got started.

Brady did great. (I really think he did better with general anesthesia than with the IV sedation, which makes me think we should have done this in the first place... Oh well...) This time, he was out in seconds, they put the IV and tube in after that, and did the scan. He did not wake up until just after the procedure, which was perfect. He is recovering from the effects of anesthesia now... and we will see how that goes this time. He was a "drunken sailor" last week for a little while.

Thanks for everyone who has been thinking and praying for us. I feel like the support helps us. Now we wait to hear back from the pediatrician later today with results. Probably, that won't be til the end of the day when she has a chance to look at the results herself.

Sitting At Hopkins Waiting for Brady's MRI

Hi Friends:

I'm sitting at the MRI lab at Hopkins waiting for Brady to get called back. We showed up at 10 AM just as they asked us to... we were even early. If you look at the time of this post you will see that we're still waiting at a little past 11!! Of course, this is typical for doctors... Our time means nothing to them, but let us be a few minutes late and they would probably cancel our appointment. Not much consideration for the fact that he was here last week... and both he and his parents are on edge.

The anestheseologist just came out to see us, so perhaps we are making progress. He's supposed to be "put under" and then they put the IV in, and by the time he wakes up, he is in recovery. We certainly pray it works out this way.

Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers the next couple hours. I hope we'll have a result later today... and prayerfully things will be okay.

Thanks,
ALAN

If at Fist You Don't Succeed... Try, Try Again

Unfortunately, Brady's MRI was unsuccessful yesterday. The IV sedation did not manage to put him asleep enough and he woke up during the procedure—I guess he was too "stubborn" to give in to sleep. (I have no idea where he gets that "stubborn streak" from? ☺) Naturally when he woke up inside the machine he was terrified with all the noise, confined space, etc. (That which we hoped and prayed would NOT happen, happened. SIGH... Seems to be happening all too often lately.) We tried to settle him down and do it again, but to no avail. The minute we moved him, he knew what was up, and woke up and started crying.

So the upshot is that he'll have to go back next Thursday (4/2) and have the whole damn thing done again, and this time they will use general anesthesia. The good news is that he won't wake up during or remember the process; the bad news is the trauma we will face getting him in this time since he will likely know where he is going this time, etc., and be scared going in as he will probably remember what happened yesterday.

On a lighter note, the poor little guy looked like a drunken sailor walking around the house last night as he was coming off the medicine. At one point he pointed to the floor and said, "Stop moving!" We were concerned because we did not want him to hurt himself but you could not help but laugh at him, and frankly he was laughing at himself. (Frankly, we needed to laugh so it was good.)

I confess I was frankly pissed at not getting this done yesterday—I took an afternoon off work and will have to take another, but that's really the least of it. The worst part is that Brady went through all that trauma only to not get the results AND he has to go through the whole thing again! We end up feeling: "Can ONE thing in our life be uncomplicated?!" (You kind of wish we had just done general anesthesia to begin with but they like to try IV sedation if they the patient "qualifies", and apparently Brady did. Hooray for us! )

Not only that, but now we have to wait another week to get results of this MRI, and we have already been waiting over two months since we first found out about the "spot" on his brain. We hope and pray the "spot" is benign as the physicians believe, but we just want to know for sure at this point. At least once we finally get the test done we should know the results pretty quickly since our pediatrician and neurologist can access them about an hour after the MRI is done on the Hopkins website.

So keep us in your thoughts and prayers. You can imagine that we are on edge and frustrated at the delays. Pray that we hang in there and "keep perspective." You go down to Hopkins and see some children in far worse shape than ours. Some will never leave that hospital...

Of course we know something about that reality too, having lived it last spring with Hope. Given that context, it's hard for us not to be anxious as we return to Hopkins yet again and face another health concern with our children. Needless to say, every time we set foot in that hospital it brings back bad memories, and it seems like we've had to go there pretty often recently. And we have to go back again next week...

Oh well, what can you do... At the end of the day all you can do is TRUST God, "no matter how hard it may be"... but I can tell you that right now it's VERY hard for me. I feel like every time I trust I get burned... It's like I'm having to rebuild what it means to TRUST God from the ground up. TRUST certainly doesn't mean that everything I desire or pray for is going to happen; in fact, far from it. I probably always knew that intellectually, but now as we live through this season of personal hardship and suffering, I am experiencing it firsthand.

On the other hand, on a "deeper level" I know I do TRUST the promises of God. I'm convinced that this "deeper level" of TRUST is what has kept me going the past year or so as we have endured such difficult life circumstances. It has to sustain me until such time as the "surface level" of TRUST is rebuilt. Deep down, what other choice do I have right now but to TRUST? There's really nothing I can do about this situation on my own—it's out of my control. Even though it's totally frustrating to feel powerless to do anything, we just have to be patient and hope for the best and not give into fear of the worst.

---

Quick access to Windows Live and your favorite MSN content with Internet Explorer 8.

Brady's MRI Taking Place Today

Just a quick upate. They moved Brady's MRI to today (Wednesday) at 2 PM due to confusion over the type of anesthesia they are using—i.e., they only do IV-sedation on Wednesday so we had to change the appointment to today. The little guy has a hearing/speech evaluation this morning as well, so it is a busy day for him—and he can't eat anything besides jello and juice until after the MRI is over. We figured the exam this morning would take his attention off not eating for a while, so we kept both on the schedule. Plus, we get both things done today, which is somewhat convenient.

So please keep us in your thoughts and, if so-inclined, prayers today.

---

Internet Explorer 8 – Now Available. Faster, safer, easier. Download FREE now!

Trust: No Matter How Hard It Might Be...

Hello Friends:

It's been quite a while since I posted to my blog but I wanted to send a note out to ask for special prayers this week for Brady and for his parents... 

Our son Brady has to have an MRI at Hopkins on Thursday.  A couple months back he had a febrile seizure (he has had several of episodes over the past two years) and when we took him down to Hopkins they did a CT-scan and found what they described as a "small cyst" on his brain—previous CT scans had not detected this.  We then took him to see a pediatric neurologist at Hopkins. The neurologist believes that whatever it is, it is benign based on all she can deduce from examining him, etc.—i.e., he seems like a normal 3-year old. However, the radiologist recommended that we do the MRI to confirm because he could not say conclusively that it was not a "mass"—i.e., solid as opposed to a watery "cyst".  They want to be sure of exactly what it is we are dealing with and the MRI is the best tool available to do that. 

As you can imagine this is challenging for us.  First of all, Brady will have to be sedated for the procedure, which is not fun for anyone, much less a 3-year old.  Second, when you hear something like this, it is quite scary as a parent...  If you have kids I'm sure you relate: "My child has a 'something' on his brain!?  That doesn't sound good..."  Your mind inevitably runs in a thousand different directions... and you conjure up all kinds of horrible scenarios that you pray aren't true.  You wonder if this is why he is having seizures?  Or why his growth and speech seem somewhat delayed?  And so on...

It is especially hard for us to not imagine the worst right now after all we went through with the girls last year.  We trusted doctors before... and they were flat-out wrong.  They kept saying, "Everything was fine," week after week, and of course everything was anything but fine.  For all of their great technology, they 'missed' something pretty big!  We trusted the doctors and it may well have cost Hope her life.  It reminds us that sometimes the so-called "experts" don't know everything... and that there is a "higher authority" in God.  

I believe in the power of that "higher authority" but honestly my problem right now (and I suspect Laurie might say something similar but I can't speak for her) is that I don't know how well I trust God's motives right now.  I trusted God with the health of our girls last spring and, though my brain knows it doesn't work this way, my heart feels hurt and disappointed with God for letting us down in a big way.  I prayed and prayed that things would go well and of course the prayers didn't get answered the way we wanted. I still struggle to comprehend what happened and why. (Knowing all the while that the "answers" I want may never come.) 

Ironically I frequently sing a song called Trust (by Phil Lazo) to myself and to my kids at night.  I did this long before Hope and Becca were born.  (We actually had Phil sing at our wedding and Brady's baptism.)  But now more than ever the words ring true for me.  Now more than ever, I need to remind myself of how I do need to trust God, "no matter how hard it might be".  When Laurie and I had to "choose between our child and our God" last spring, we had to trust that we were doing the right thing even though it was an agonizing choice to make.  We realized that this earthly life held little "hope" for our darling Hope and made the decision to release our daughter "into the arms of Jesus, the only savior that [we] know!"  (It is the hardest decision we ever had to make, and I hope and pray none of you have to make that kind of choice.)  In the weeks and months that have followed, I've had to try pick up the pieces of my shattered "hopes and dreams" for my daughter and learn to trust God  during these days when I feel like "I'm blind and can't see" God at all, or when it seems like my whole world has collapsed and "fear grips my days."  

It's hard to trust, especially after all I have lived through recently!  I feel so out of control at times and no matter how I try, I just don't like that feeling; it makes me very anxious at times.  I am a Meyers–Brigg "ISTJ" personality type who likes a neat, orderly, predictable existence and that is so not my life these days.  (Perhaps it never really was my life nor is it meant to be as a follower of Christ?  But somehow that doesn't bring me much comfort right now.)  I wonder if I'll ever be more comfortable living with all the ambiguity that is such a part of daily life on this third rock from the Sun?!

So perhaps now you understand why this procedure on Thursday is especially worrisome for us right now. When you've lived through what we've been through the past year or two,  you struggle to trust.  We tend to start from a position of fearing the worst rather than hoping for the best. I suspect it would be hard for any parents whose son had to have an MRI on their brain, but it is especially hard for us. 

Of course, at the end of the day, whether it be this MRI for my son or many other things we encounter in daily life, what other choice is there but to trust?  So many times in life, the outcome is just out of our control and the only thing left is our faith, hope, and ultimately our TRUST in God.  We certainly pray with all our being that Brady is okay and we would ask you all to join us in praying this week.  We need our friends to surround us right now and cover us with prayer. We thank you very much for your support.

---

Internet Explorer 8 – Now Available. Faster, safer, easier. Download FREE now!

The Rainbow Followed Me Home

One night recently, I was out doing an errand and as I was driving home getting ready to get on Route 695 (the Baltimore Beltway) I looked up and saw a rainbow. I was reminded of the passage from the book of Genesis where God makes a covenant with Noah and promises him that he would never again flood the earth and destroy all life—Genesis 9:12-16. It was comforting to think that maybe God was somehow sending a message to me through the rainbows I saw as he did Noah. The loss of our 2-day old daughter Hope and my mom's recent illness has been very difficult on our family and Laurie and I certainly hope that better days are ahead—we could certainly use a rainbow or two right now.

As I drove around the beltway that evening, I continued to get different views of the rainbow. Sometimes I had to twist my head around to find the rainbow but it was still there—almost as if it was following me home. Sometimes I could see the rainbow across the whole sky, other times parts of the rainbow would be obscured by dark clouds and I saw just a small part of the arc of color but it seemed to move with me as I drove. Of course the reality is the rainbow never really moved… I did. The rainbow remained relatively stationary in the sky but my perspective continued to change because the clouds above me kept moving and I was also moving.

My experience with the rainbow the other day seemed like a fitting metaphor for how my relationship with God has felt these past few months. In the midst of the maelstrom that has been our life these past few months it is fair to say that God as at times felt elusive and hard to see. The roiling clouds of life swirl over my head and obscure my view of God at times. In the aftermath of losing our daughter, and now my mom's illness, I am unable to see clearly where God is. I sometimes feel like a blind man stumbling around in the darkness searching for answers to life's hardest questions. I cry out: Why God?! And I get no answer. I've had try and "twist my head around" trying find at least a glimpse of God's presence during these dark days.

But I also have to remember to ask myself: Who moved here? That is to say, did God move or did I? The reality is that God has not moved… I have. I have been forever changed by what he have lived through recently and it inevitably affects how I relate to God—it changes my perspective and perhaps alters my view of God if you will. I have to learn to relate to God from my new viewpoint and adjust to my new reality—a reality that must forever include the tragedy of losing a daughter and the reality of a seriously mentally ill mother.

There do appear to be little rays of sunshine peaking through the gloom and clouds that have permeated our life recently. And of course, sun peaking through a thick deck of clouds and raindrops is precisely the conditions that give rise to rainbows—chances to catch a glimpse of God's presence breaking through the clouds. And as time goes by, I think I start to see more of these glimpses... but it definitely takes time and patience.

Last week, we got some good news about Brady. He visited the neurologist for a follow-up on the seizures that he has had (one last August, and three more in May). There was some concern that his EEG was "irregular", but we were relieved to have the doctor tell us that she thinks the seizures are febrile seizures and she doesn't think any medication is needed at this time. She said that the EEG was really only slightly abnormal and after consulting with us she really believes we are dealing with febrile seizures. (Of course I wish he didn't have any seizures to worry about, so I guess things are relative.)

Laurie and I really felt like the seizures were most likely febrile seizures but our pediatrician felt the follow-up with the neurologist was prudent given and we took her advice. Brady has not had seizures apart from being sick but at the same time, we were worried that it might be more serious (e.g., epilepsy). We were both relieved to hear the diagnosis; we didn't know if we could stand one more thing being "wrong" in our lives right now.

Meanwhile, my mother remains at Sheppard–Pratt. She is by no means back to normal—which I guess is a relative term for someone in my mother's condition anyway—but she at least seems to be a little better than when she was first admitted. The doctors and staff continue to work with her to try and help. If we can keep the insurance companies and doctors from sending her home too early, maybe she can get the help she needs and at least have some dignity and quality of life for herself without completely wearing out my father—who is her primary caregiver when she is at home.

Perhaps the most significant glimpse of God's presence lately is that our family has been talking more openly than we ever have about mom's illness. For years, we were all conditioned to ignore the elephant in the room—i.e., don't talk about mom being sick because it might upset her. Suspend disbelief... Hold on to the myth that mom is okay.

I think now that veil of pretense has been shattered once and for all: Mom isn't okay and she hasn't been for a long time—not for most of my life! She's managed her illness to a degree over the years and did her best to function and raise her children and she should be commended for that. But the fact is, my mom has had serious struggles with mental illness over the years, and this time she got so bad that we could no longer pretend that everything was okay. She could no longer "keep the children in the dark" about it as she did to a large extent with her past hospitalizations—we're big boys now I guess. And I think in general that this has been a good thing.

My father, my brother, and I (as well as our spouses) have had some good conversations about mom and the reality of her situation that we have all been living with for many years. In some way, mom's hospitalization has allowed for some much-needed dialogue and maybe, just maybe, allowed some long overdue healing to begin. My mom's long illness has wounded each of us—myself, my brother, and my father—in different ways and we all need to experience healing and restoration.

A few weekends ago, Laurie and I were down at my parent's farm visiting my dad and my brother and his family were there. We were sitting out on the porch enjoying a nice summer evening. My brother's two teenage daughters were out playing on the lawn with our son Brady. It seemed a perfectly normal thing for a family to do, and yet it struck me that that kind of normal scene seldom played out at our house over the years. I don't know how to describe it exactly but there was a heaviness that was lifted from my mom not being present with us. I almost had the sense that some form of spiritual oppression had been removed from that house—at least temporarily. (It feels a little bad to have to admit this about my own mother, but it's also liberating to admit.) Somehow, my mom not being "in the room" seemed to free us all to be more at ease with one another, free to relax and play and rest. My dad later remarked how much he enjoyed having us all there together that evening and Laurie and I also enjoyed ourselves. It was just a nice time with family and it felt good.

It's somewhat ironic that the stunning beauty of a rainbow can only be seen when clouds and raindrops exist simultaneously with sun. And yet isn't that really something of a metaphor for our life here on Earth? It certainly seems to characterize my life lately. Grief and suffering almost always exist simultaneously with joy and celebration. I think the writer of Ecclesiastes appreciates this reality of life [Ecclesiastes 3:4] as does the Apostle Paul [Romans 12:15]. Some people mourn at the exact moment that others rejoice. Some people, as Laurie and I know all too well, do both almost simultaneously.

In a couple of weeks we will gather to baptize our daughter Rebecca in the same sanctuary where we gathered just over three months ago to say goodbye to Hope. We look forward to that day as we celebrate our daughter's life while continuing to remember to keep alive the memory of her twin sister. Rebecca's baptism invitation states it beautifully: In the face of Rebecca we will always see HOPE.

_________________________________________________________________
Get Windows Live and get whatever you need, wherever you are. Start here.
http://www.windowslive.com/default.html?ocid=TXT_TAGLM_WL_Home_082008