Stray...

Sunset on Lake Tahoe by Tammie Hefty

And though I may stray,

My faithful God, you are still

Where last I met you.

Inspired by Sunday Scribblings 2 Prompt 85: Stray

www.sundayscribblings2.blogspot.com 

Her World, My Mystery

What is it like to live there?
Lying down and staring up,
Watching Full House or singing with K-Love, 
Rocking back and forth, 
Creating a rat's nest to brush out later with tears.

What is it like to live there?
Knowing enough, but not knowing enough,

Knowing you're different, not just unique; 
But very, very different from your friends.
Knowing that your health has never been good, 
And that this will never change.

What is it like to live there?
Trapped behind eyes that don't hide the light,
In a mind that struggles to find her senses;
The senses to make sense of it all,
In a body that struggles to run, jump, and play,
With a mouth that can't say for sure how you feel.

I want to know what it's like to live there, 
In your own world, in your own struggles, in your own thoughts.  
It is a mystery to me...a painful mystery I try to solve,
Taking one clue at a time, as they come, 
And piecing them together to be a better mother for you every day.

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings 2 Prompt:  lost in her own thoughts

Born This Christmas Day...

This is a Christmas of newness for us,

A Christmas of change...

Coffee in front of a fire,

With stuffed stockings hanging just above,

Facetime two and three time zones away.

A quiet morning among the mountains,

A game of Life and maybe Sorry,

And perhaps we'll get a nap!

Dinner with new friends,

Those we didn't know three short months ago,

But our faith has made us family.

A new home, a new school, and new jobs...

But this Christmas, one thing has not changed,

We celebrate the King who came to Save.

Written in response to Sunday Scribbilings 2 writing prompt Born This Christmas Day

Unwelcome

Deplorable,

Abhorable,

Jealous and Over-zealous is the Fear that knocks on my door.

It's creeping in;

It's seeping in,

As Unwelcome as the Black Widow that skitters across my floor.

Anxious,

All hope is stymied.

Distressed,

All peace unravels.

Unglued,

I pray for mending...

Breathe in, and out;

Breathe in, and out.

Sovereign,

Omnipotent,

Merciful and Just is the Almighty God who watches over us.  

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings 2 writing prompt:  an unwelcome guest

The Struggle

Photo Courtesy of Me; Setting Courtesy of God

I was out for a walk the other night and saw this...in my mind, it was the perfect "picture" of life here on earth. 

The struggle...

The fight to become strong, and independent.
The knowledge that we cannot stand alone.
The feeling that we are pulled in all directions.

In my soul's pasture, I find peace in the security that God gives me...He holds me up and braces me against the harsh conditions in this world.  He lends support and never leaves me without the watchful care and protection of legions of angels.
  
Gravity pulls me down and winds bend me in all directions; but the tension, the painful training of God's love strengthens me and sets me into a right relationship with Him.

This struggle, in the end, will shine bright as the glory of the beginning...  

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings 2 writing prompt:  in the soul's pasture

The Foothills

On the front pages

We read about the lives of others, 

The headlines draw us in,

But never share the volume of their days,

The vastness of their reach.

On the front pages

We realize that we know nothing about their fears;

The fears that stretch beyond the foothills,

And while we fight to reach the mountain,

We get swallowed at its base with fallen rock and sifted sand.

On the front pages

We read about victory one day

And terror the next.

How do we ascend from these foothills?

How do we reach the summit?

How can we climb when we feel shaken inside?

On the front pages

We deny our own demons while pointing at theirs,

Without a thought that our demons

Will ever break loose.

And still the demons run rampant here in the foothills.

On the front pages

We don't read of the Mountain;

We deny it exists and only look here on earth.

We look for answers in the foothills, 
But answers live on peak.

And that's why we have pain.

And that's why we have death.

We try to make sense of life in the foothills,

Yet  were created for life on the Mountain.

Climb, and don't look back.

Climb, and do not fear.

Climb, and know there's a perfect life on the Mountain;

Where you'll look down on the foothills, 

And see Truth through the eyes of God.

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings Writing Prompt:  From the Front Pages 

Precarious Placement

Image Courtesy of Evgeni Dinev/freedigitalphotos.net

I placed you on high,

Precariously swinging,

Please, don't disappoint.

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings 2 writing prompt:  Place

Wisdom of the Weak

Image by winnod/freedigitalphotos.net

Wise.
My mind is racing in the wind,
with music in my ears,
and the rush of drums in my heart.

Wise.
A whisper barely heard,
but makes me turn no less,
and I wonder what I missed.

Wise.
I need to be real,
and loved by my Creator,
So the Cricket guides me through.

Wise.
I am wise when I listen,
strain through the darkness,
stealing visions of my life lived for You.

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings 2 writing prompt:  Wise.

Stretch

Photo Courtesy of khunaspix/freedigitalphotos.net

Just beyond my reach, 

steaming coffee cup does sit 

upon the table.

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings 2 writing prompt:  Reach

Plum

We have a plum little house,
In our plum little town,
With a plum perfect view 
of the mountains all around.

People thought us plum crazy
But we thought it was best,
To face all our fears
for a plum life out west.

While I'm feeling plum tuckered,
Unpacking's made me plum numb;
There's no rest for the weary who follow
dreams so plum.

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings 2's writing prompt:  Plum

The Most Perfect Pastry

You, my child, are a pastry;

A delicacy to behold.

Your sweet confection's a blessing;

Even now, when you're ten years old.

I could pair you with morning coffee;

But your glaze would dissolve; bittersweet.

I could sip some tea from a tea cup;

You'd grow stale as I watch it steep.

You are filled with a joyful spirit;

Lemon, Raspberry, Cream Cheese and more.

Appearing outside, as all of the others;

But inside, unique to the core.

I thank God for His infinite blessings;

He formed you with His own baker's hands.

Made you with the richest ingredients;

Now before me His fine creation stands.

You, my child, are a pastry;

The sweetest course God has made in my life.

Enjoy every day that He gives you;

Because you are the Creator's delight.

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings 2 writing prompt "Pastry "...

 

Under the Awning

Image Courtesy of foto76/freedigitalphoto.net

Under the awning,

I'm safe from the sun,

But smothered by plastic,

With no where to run.

The air is not moving,

And spiders swing low,

From webs spun like cotton;

I don't even know.

Under the awning,

The rain cannot fall,

Rain rivers find pathways,

But no joy at all.

Under the awning,

Securely I stand,

But there is no adventure,

And the life lived is bland.

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings 2 writing prompt; Under the Awning...

Pebble In Her Shoe

Image Courtesy of Thepathtraveler/freedigitalphotos.net

Change...
Brings discomfort,
Brings fear,
Brings a hunger for simplicity.
Change...
A thorn in her side,
A pebble in her shoe,
A pea under her mattress.
Change...
Reveals strength,
Discovers courage,
Unearths the unsung hero within.

Written in response to the writing prompt Pebble In Her Shoe ...

A Bowl of Flowers

Image Courtesy of Praisaeng/freedigitalphotos.net

Packing memories

Packing dreams

Packing fears I'd rather leave behind

 

Packing my clothes

Packing my wares

Packing the dust I'd rather leave behind

 

Packing the photos

Packing the books

Packing the things I hoard here on earth

 

This bowl of flowers

Once held my hopes

But they have been packed

In a box that's closed

 

Sealed tight with tape

Marked

         "fragile"

                       "don't break"

 

Moth and rust won't gobble hopes up

Although the flowers will wither and die

My truest treasure is stored up on high.

 

Written in response to Sunday Scribblings 2 Prompt ~ A Bowl Full of Flowers

 

Unanswered Prayers

Rejected...

My GRE scores were abysmal, and the University of Minnesota didn't want me to come anywhere near their graduate program.
Should I retake the test?  Fork out more money even though I had a history of choking when it came to standardized tests?

UW Milwaukee had accepted me.  Not only accepted me, but also offered me a teaching assistant-ship which meant free tuition to school!  Why couldn't that have happened with U of M?  I didn't want to move as far away from home as Milwaukee was. 

I had prayed for it all to work out for the best.  Was this really best?

Unanswered prayers...

Had I not moved to Milwaukee I: 
Would not have reconnected with Jeff, fallen in love, and married him.
Would not have lived in the Madison area, let alone the Milwaukee area, where I've met some of my nearest and dearest friends.
Would never have had the perfect DNA make up to knit together Evie Jo.
Would never have heard of WAGR Syndrome, and would not have my amazing WAGR family.

My greatest tests of faith have come from unanswered prayers.

My most amazing blessings have come from unanswered prayers.

My life would not be what it is today without unanswered prayers.

Write Your Story On My Heart My Life
I know it's never really been mine
So do with it whatever You like
I don't know what Your plan is
But I know it's good, yeah...Author of my hope
Maker of the stars
Let me be Your work of art
Won't You write Your story on my heart.

Publishing: © 2014 Word Music, LLC (ASCAP), Francesca Music (ASCAP) (All rights obo itself and Francesca Music adm. by Word Music, LLC) / Universal Music – Brentwood Benson Songs (ASCAP), D Soul Music (ASCAP) (All rights obo D Soul Music Adm. by Universal Music – Brentwood Benson) / 9T One Songs (ASCAP), Ariose Music (ASCAP) (Adm. at CapitolCMGPublishing.com)
Writer(s): Francesca Battistelli / David Arthur Garcia / Ben Glover

What are YOUR unanswered prayers???

 

My Mind is a Runaway Kite

Photo Courtesy of Darren Robertson/FreeDigitalPhotos.net

There it goes again...

Give it an inch and it takes a mile...

My mind is a freight train barreling down a track toward eternity; never wanting to stop, gaining speed with every clickety-clack. 

The most dangerous times for me are those moments when I'm alone...I might be in the shower, or curling my hair, or working out.  Regardless of what I'm doing, my mind is always racing.

I have to admit, there are times when I've come up with great ideas during one of these races.  

• The pirate theme for WAGR Weekend.
• The idea to buy season passes for Noah's Ark Waterpark.
• Many topics about which to blog.
• Ideas for Evie's birthday parties.

But, I also seem to incorporate thoughts about small worries of mine, and by the end of my "impromptu brainstorming session," I have created a nightmare that leaves my heart pounding with anxiety.

My mind is a runaway kite...

I may start off with a light breeze, and total control of the twine that ties the kite to me.  But, if I get a little lazy, I drop the holder around which the twine is twisted; and off goes the kite, soaring into the blue heavens above.  

How do I get it back?  

I run after it for a while in a vain attempt to real in my imagination and "un-do" all of the things I've imagined in my mind; but it's too late.  My brain has already "gone there" and now it has become part of my thoughts.  

What if?  

Could it be?  

How could I?  

The only way to reel in the kite is to actually let it go. 

Give it to God, Tammie.

The kite is gone; you let your mind race again.  The thoughts you had were only imagined, and are not part of reality.

Let the kite go.

Return to your home; and tie your mind down to the solid rock; the anchor...

He will hold you down and not let you be tossed about by the wind.

When you belong to God, you are tethered to HIM; you are no longer the one holding your own kite.

So...

Let go, and let God.

Words from a Lunatic who Believes

Yesterday in church, the sermon was about Jesus healing an official’s son.  This passage has never quite affected me the way it did yesterday.  I felt suddenly impassioned and inspired, like a lunatic, to show the faith of the official~to show the faith that he had when he took Jesus at his word… 

When the man heard that Jesus had arrived in Galilee from Judea, he went to him and begged him to come and heal his son, who was close to death.

“Unless you people see signs and wonders, Jesus told him, “you will never believe.”

The royal official said, “Sir, come down before my child dies.”

“Go” Jesus replied, “your son will live.” The man took Jesus at his word and departed.

John 4:47-50 NIV

Having recently read through our Caringbridge journal from when Evie had cancer, I realized that, I kind of DID show faith like that back at the time of her diagnosis as her doctors sorted through the information they were gathering and tried to determine the appropriate course of action for treating Evie.  Below is my entry from September 23^rd of 2005…I have left it as the original as I don’t want to add words to it even if just to correct any grammatical errors.

I know that the prayers being lifted up on Evie’s behalf changed the landscape of her treatment and battle with cancer.   

When all the outrageous circumstances surrounding it are considered, I can almost hear Jesus saying to us in the hospital:

"Go, your daughter will live…"

Chapter 2-- In Which Evie goes to the Hospital and has Nothing much Done...(A Pooh Tale)

Well, after reading all of the entries and prayers and scriptures, I have no doubt that there was some divine intersession that took place today. Literally as the baby crib was being wheeled out, and as we followed the nurses who were taking us to pre-op out of the room our surgery was delayed. I have chills right now again thinking of the prayers that were being lifted up and how this struggle was taking place at that very moment.

The oncologist and the urologist have not come to confident conclusion on how to best treat our little Evie Jo. One would like to biopsy her tumor first and then after deterimining it's stage due chemo to shrink it and then do a partial removal of the kidney. The other wants to do the full removal and follow up with chemo. 

I cried--I was already to the "the-room-is-spinning, I'm-going-to-throw-up, our-baby-is-going-to-be-cut-open" point. So I prayed quickly, "Lord what do I do?" and He said, "call Kelly." (For those who are unfamiliar, Kelly is one of our "go to" gals for WAGR syndrome. Thank you, Kelly, for being an obedient servant to the Lord's calling for you.)

Kelly gave me good, no, great questions to ask the doctors. She also gave me good advice medically, spiritually and personally. So, I went back into the room well armed with confidence and we talked to both doctors again. 

Ultimately, what Jeff and I decided was that as difficult as it was to the put the brakes on when we were rolling down a yucky, but decided course of action, we couldn't deny the "God-incidence" that on the same week as our baby was diagnosed with Wilm's Tumor, that there was a fantastic meeting of the minds in Vancouver where several of the doctors who have operated on our WAGR kids to remove the Wilm's are. Dr. Puccetti, our oncologist, wanted to confer with several of them before deciding our course.

So, praise God, we are home. We still know that our little Evie has this cancer in her, so we are asking for the covering of prayer to protect her and get her ready for her surgery next week. Evie was so funny because she was so hungry and we were talking and talking to the doctors and she was yelling at us so I finally said, "can we please give her some cheerios and get that IV our of her foot???" She was very content to sit and eat her cheerios, and wave at us as we discussed the fate of her Wilm's Tumor and how we will ultimately destroy it. :)

As we drove home, my mom sat in the back seat calling people, Evie was waving, and I was listening to the radio. The song "Held" came on and Natalie Grant sang, "Can you not wait for one hour for your precious Savior?" I thought, yes, we can wait. Lord if you are using this time to do an incredible thing, than we will wait. Those prayers that interceded on our part literally changed the course of Evie's life and our lives this aftermoon. 

 

I have called our church and asked to have a prayer meeting on Sunday afternoon for Evie and they are arranging it, I figure, God gave us time, so lets get some good praying done.

Meanwhile, we're back at home. Evie is a happy little girl and we will be happy to be sleeping in our beds tonight. 

I plan to call the doctors on Monday to check in and see where we're at. Keep praying--obviously God has something fantastic He's working on and just needed a little more time :)

Love you all, Tammie, Jeff and Evie

I recall people saying, "Oh, it will be a long weekend for you at home..."  But it wasn't. 

God was working, God was moving...I had an unexplainable peace, a belief that things would be fine.   

And, look, they are...

I have that same peace with our upcoming move to Reno.  It's mind-boggling, and unbelievable to me that we are uprooting everything here, leaving all the familiar faces, and places~but Jesus is saying, "Go...you are to Go West...I have a great adventure for you there..."

So Jeff and Tammie took Jesus at his word, and departed...