It's that time of year again.

Oh, my...  We're facing another graduation.  This time we'll be watching our Ashley walk across the platform to receive her diploma, thrilled from head to foot that she has worked so hard and finally finished her schooling.  Two years ago, Dale graduated; two years before that, it was Katie; two years before that, Amanda.  Now, Ashley is counting down her final days as a high school student and chafing at the bit to actually be DONE!  Ashley desires to go into obstetrics/gynecology, possibly, or some other field that will enable her to help people in a definitive way.  She's spending the next year working to save up money so that she won't be so very deep in student loan debt once she is able to attend college.

Praise be to God for allowing us the grace, patience, wisdom, and love to help our children through these formative years in our care.  But wait!  There's more!  We still have one more child in school.  Emily is five years behind the others, but, starting this fall, she will be our only child in our school.  Frankly, that's gonna be weird.  I've had a vanful for back-and-forth school trips for the longest time; even the last two years since Dale graduated, he's come to school with us a good bit of the time, plus Emily and Ashley and whichever friends we're giving a ride home.  Next year, it'll just be Emily and me in the van.  We've had a taste of that this week since Ashley's been on her senior trip; Em and I have been to Starbucks once and Cowgirls' Coffee once---we're enjoying this alone time!

Update on Dale:  He got to have six sessions with a physical therapist earlier this year, and seemed to benefit from the extra exercise.  The therapist realized we would not be able to continue the sessions (our insurance only pays for six visits a year, and Dale's Medicaid is "under construction"), so he formulated a set of conditioning exercises that Dale could do daily at home.  Which Dale does, if he remembers or if we nag him!  The therapist stated that he believed Dale's muscles are strong but unreliable.  Dale's legs and arms tend to twitch and jerk unpredictably; this causes Dale to lose confidence in his own limbs' ability to support him.  Consequently, he takes short, stumbling steps and constantly hunches over, preparing for the next jerk or fall.  We are continually trying to convince Dale that the exercises will help him gain stability and confidence, but that, frankly, is an ongoing battle!

We're still looking for ideas to keep Dale's mind sharp and his time occupied with more than just YouTube.  A very kind man at church gave Dale a HUGE book about computers, as well as an old monitor and keyboard to practice taking apart...and, hopefully, putting back together again.  Dale's read part of the book but is afraid of ruining the monitor, so he has yet to experiment with it.  Several people have offered suggestions for Dale to try, and we appreciate each one.  His attention span lasts for only a few weeks at a time; he is genuinely interested in each new project, but loses that interest within a short time.  So, if anyone has any project ideas or areas of interest to research, please let us know.  We look into each new idea, but are forced to discard many of them because they cannot be tailored to suit Dale's physical abilities.

Katie graduated from Gene Juarez Beauty Academy the third week of March!  She spent thirty hours a week for thirteen months to learn so much about hair cuts and styles and coloring and tips.  She had already been working part-time as a spa hostess at one of the Gene Juarez salons; she was able to schedule her work hours around her school hours, but it was still a very looooong thirteen months.  She decided to take it easy after graduating and not stress out about finding a stylist job fresh out of school.  Now, she's interviewing at a couple of different salons, looking for the right fit and excited about the possibilities.

Chad just started a new schedule at work, one that is different enough from what we'd all become accustomed to that it is requiring quite a bit of determined thought to remember it!  His days off, his bedtimes and rising times, his coming home times are all different now.  Probably by the time we finally adjust, his schedule will change again!  I thank God for my husband's hard work and ability to provide so well for our family.  He doesn't just pay the bills; he plans ahead and keeps a good budget and always thinks of fun family outings to break up the monotony of school and work and all.  He's a good man, a great father, and a loving husband.  We are so blessed to have him leading our family.

I'm kind of surprised by this blog entry.  Usually, I'm long-winded and bit depressing, but this post is of average length and rather cheerful.  And, for that, I am thankful.  Too often I focus on the problems and difficulties our family faces, and end with our deliberate decision to trust God anyway.  Not that there's anything wrong with that.  But it's nice to write a simple account of the latest doings of various members of our family.  It's refreshing.  And it's the truth:  no embellishments, no disguising our feelings, no highlighting the bright spots and hiding the bad.  Too often, social media can paint a very unreal picture of family life; it's a blessing to be able to be honest and yet upbeat.  Praise the Lord!

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.  Amen.

Psalm 146: 1-2  "Praise ye the LORD.  Praise the LORD, O my soul.  While I live will I praise the LORD:  I will sing praises unto my God while I have any being."

Psalm 147: 1  "Praise ye the LORD:  for it is good to sing praises unto our God; for it is pleasant; and praise is comely."

Life goes on....

It has been simply AGES since I've written.  I realize my last blog entry was before last summer.  Where in the world has the time gone?  Our lives have been no busier than at any other time of the year.  It would be nice to blame the stress of the season or our crazy schedules or sports practices and games for the lack of interest in blogging, but, to be honest, I just haven't felt like writing.  Sometimes updating this blog feels like whitewashing our real lives, giving a condensed, cheery, not-quite-accurate-but-close-enough account of our family instead of the hard, bare, ofttimes dismal facts.  Not to say we are miserable yet deliberately painting everything bright yellow---more like, we are an average family with average stress, average income, average problems, average accomplishments, and average lives.  We got thrust into the limelight seven years ago, but we're not in that limelight now.  Now we're just living, day by day, just like every other family on the planet.

So is there a need to keep this blog going?  Is there a reason still?  Am I making a valid contribution to social media?  I mean, who really cares about what happens to a family that not many people still remember hearing about?  Dale's accident was, in many ways, a lifetime ago.  Why bother?

Because there are those who do remember those awful first few days, first few weeks.  There are those who still can't look at waves crashing onto the shore without shuddering.  There are those who remember staying up round the clock and praying for Dale, knowing we were doing the same by his hospital bedside.  There are those who regularly sent us encouraging emails, letters, cards, gifts, dinner vouchers, anything that would help relieve our burden at that time.  There are those who devoured every word posted on this blog and forwarded it to others to read.  There are those who clipped every newspaper article about Dale and even recorded every news program mentioning him.  They prayed, cried, loved, and believed right alongside us, and we are forever grateful.  They are why we still write.

Because there are those who randomly search the internet and discover Dale's story.  They are amazed anew at God's mercy and provision.  They are brought closer to Him through this blog's regular account of Dale's progress and needs.  They read and realize that a life spent serving God does not mean a life of ease; a life given to God does not equal a life without worry or fear or burden.  A life with God means having Someone to turn to when the worry hovers, when the fear threatens, when the burden chokes.  They read Dale's story and thank God for the well-being of their own children.  They have a greater desire to help others because of the testimony of so many people around the world who responded when we needed help.  They are why we still write.

Because there are those who need to know that they are not the only ones facing difficulties.  They are not the only family struggling with daily doubt and care and questions and stress.  They are not alone in wondering why life has to be so hard.  And, let's face it:  life is hard.  There are not enough adjectives in the dictionary to fully describe just how hard life is.  For our family, we struggle every day with not hurling angry words at Dale when helping him lurch back and forth to the bathroom, knowing that a great part of his physical limitations are of his own doing.  We struggle with having to always limit our family plans to something that can accommodate him; just going to the mall requires special thought and planning.  We live on high alert, waiting for the next thump that means Dale has fallen or cry of dismay that means he's knocked his drink over.  It's similar to having a toddler in the house:  he's old enough to do some things for himself, but there's still so much that we have to do for him.  It's frustrating to have to think for him because he doesn't plan ahead, and it's annoying for him to insist he's right when we know he's not remembering things correctly because his memory is very bad.  And that's not all that's hard about life.  There's doctor bills and school assignments and job stress and family squabbles and upcoming life changes and shopping trips and church functions and everything else that makes life stressful and wonderful and challenging and crazy.  There are those who need to look at our life to realize that they are not the only ones who struggle.  There are those who need to be able to compare our difficulties with their own---and thank God for their own!  They are why we still write.

There are those who are still learning from our example.  Now, I'm not saying our situation is some perfect demonstration of God working His purpose through a godly family.  Trust me: we are not angels; we are not sitting around, our hands folded piously in prayer, with shining golden halos floating above our heads. I believe we are an ordinary family; God chose to allow an unthinkable tragedy to occur to us and was honored by not just our response but that of people around us.  I believe God intended to take Dale home that day, but He changed His plans because of the prayers and trust of His people, and allowed Dale to live.  Our job now is to continue to honor and glorify Him through life's daily challenges.  And, I have to admit:  more than half the time we fail.  We fail to glorify God through our struggles, our pain, our disappointments.  We fail to fully trust God's plan for our daily lives.  We "made it" through the big test, but we tend to do poorly on the day-to-day trials.  There are those who, by asking us constantly how Dale is doing and what we expect for his future, are reminding us to trust our Father Who is never wrong.  They keep us accountable for God's miracle.  They are why we still write.

Because....I need it.  I need this outlet for the pent-up emotions and complaints and thought processes.  I need this place to think through my daily struggle to trust God fully.  I need to pour out my hurts and desires and bitterness and fear, not just so I can be free of them, but so others can read how I feel, how my family is feeling, how we react, how we keep going.  I appreciate the God-given talent for writing that I possess, and I honestly enjoy finding the exact words to use to express my inmost thoughts.  I need this.  I need this blog to share our family with whoever chooses to read.  I am why I still write.

You see?  God knows everything.  He absolutely knows which category listed above we fall into, and He knows how to meet each need.  He knows what He's doing. He's worth trusting. And life does, indeed, go on. It goes on after each victory, and it goes on after each defeat. It goes on after each joy, and it goes on after each sorrow. It goes on after each mountaintop, and it goes on after each valley. Life simply.....goes on. We have to choose to keep living. We can't freeze time when life is perfect, nor should we allow our lives to be frozen in a moment that's tragic. Our Father knows His plans for our future; if He had wanted us to stay locked in a specific time period, never progressing past that hurt, He would have frozen us there of His own accord. But He hasn't. And by choosing to continue living---and, specifically, living a life pleasing to Him, we are showing Him and those around us that we are still trusting God with our lives---past, present, future. That's why I choose to continue to write: I am showing my Father and each of you readers my decision to keep trusting God, no matter how easy or hard life is.

We can all benefit from this blog.  I pray you find help, comfort, direction, and love whenever you follow along with us here.

Hebrews 13:16  "But to do good and to communicate forget not:  for with such sacrifices God is well pleased."

Summer is almost here!

I can't believe we've reached the end of another school year!  Despite the fact that many school days seem to drag on and on, we actually have only a couple of weeks left before we're free.  I'm just quoting the students here; this wording in no way reflects how I feel as a teacher...(cough, cough)...

This time last year, our family was in a whirlwind of excitement because Dale was graduating!  We spent soooo much time---and money---finding table decorations, setting up the reception area, printing out announcements, and trying to remember all the last-minute necessities to celebrate Dale's achievement; once graduation night was finally over, our whole family took a much-needed break.  This year, we can take it a little easier.  Ashley graduates next year; my English classes are taking their finals a bit early; and, so far, I have no responsibilities graduation night.  Summer, here we come!

I wrote in my last post about Dale's struggles with finding a goal or purpose since graduation.  He is continuing to spend most of his time sitting at the table, playing on his iPad, or watching TV.  However, he seems to be realizing that his opportunity to recover his lost mobility is slipping away.  Chad walked Dale over to the barbershop across the street from our house this week; he reported that Dale seriously struggled just getting from the front door across the street to the barber.  But this time Dale noticed how hard it was just to walk.  Dale actually realized just how much mobility he's lost due to his inactive state.  You see, when Dale needs to walk somewhere, anywhere, he takes a few long, quick strides (before his fear of falling kicks in); then he jerks to a halt and begins taking short, halting, tiny steps.  This naturally increases the time it takes for him to get where he's going.  These baby steps are accompanied by a hunched back, curved shoulders, labored breathing, and sweaty palms.  At least once during each walk, Dale needs to pause and regroup before proceeding with his painstaking steps.  His balance is very unstable, making it the responsibility of the person walking with him to keep him balanced and upright, poised at any moment to adjust Dale's balance or catch him if he should start to fall.  Needless to say, walking with Dale---even just from the bathroom to his bedroom---is a long, hard, frustrating prospect.  My husband has been encouraging us to show compassion for Dale, instead of anger or annoyance.  He has correctly pointed out that, as frustrating as it is for us to have to shuffle with Dale across the room and back, it's ten times as hard for Dale because THIS IS DALE'S LIFE NOW.  This is how he is, every day, every hour, every church service, every time we want to have a family outing.  We have to ability to walk away once our duties with Dale are completed, but Dale lives with himself and his disabilities day in, day out.  Dale knows that he did this to himself and he knows that nothing is going to get magically better:  he is going to continue to decline until he's in a power wheelchair....or worse.  This is not the life he dreamed of, nor is it the life he would have chosen, even if he did choose to stop trying, thereby making his life more difficult than it maybe should have been.  Chad is right:  we need to show compassion toward Dale and help him cheerfully and willingly.  If all we show is anger and annoyance, our relationships with Dale will be damaged.  And, those relationships are all he has now.  He has occasional fun outings with Bro. Goltiao and some of the guys, but we are his main interactions.  He is in church services a few hours each week, but he lives in our house 24/7.  He needs the strong, loving, happy, teasing, friendly relationships with his family in order to have as full a life as is possible.  There well may come a day when he will be an invalid, a vegetable, or comatose because of his seizures; how sad it would be if the last memories we have with Dale are filled with irritation, harsh words, unkind thoughts, or anger.  We need to make sure we maintain a kind, compassionate, giving attitude toward Dale; we will be helping fill his days with light and cheer, as well as pleasing God with our actions.

We recently moved into a new house!  God amazingly worked everything for our good, as He always does when we surrender our will to Him and let Him have His way.  I wanted a house on five acres with at least 3,000 square feet, a big kitchen, multiple bathrooms, and possibly a mother-in-law suite for guests.  We sold our old house in November and moved December 1st into a rental.  Our plan was to look around for a couple of months before beginning the buying process.  I found online a handful of really nice houses that seemed to meet every desire I had!  Only problem was, we didn't qualify for any of those houses.  Chad spoke with our wonderful realtor, Michele Wright, and gave her a list of what "we" were looking for; I admit I was upset when I found out he'd spoken to her without my input!  Then, she emailed him several listings meeting his specifications, and they planned to meet one day to view some listings. I was in school and could not accompany them.  Imagine my shock when Chad called and said that he had decided to put an offer on a house and that Michele was emailing me the signing documents!!!  I was soooo upset! I had not even seen the house in person (only pictures which, honestly, were not very encouraging), and here my husband wanted to just up and buy the house!  We were able to arrange a second viewing that afternoon after school, and I was AMAZED.  Even though I was still scared to buy a house that far away from church/school (30 minutes!), I loved the house when I saw it.  We are now the proud owners of a one-story beautiful farmstyle house.  It is a deep farmhouse red with white trim, sitting on just over a quarter acre.  It's actually inside the town limits, giving us easy access to a Wal-Mart, Safeway, and Goodwill, while letting us enjoy the peace of the countryside on the drive to and from wherever.  I'm still surprised by the quiet of our house! I had become used to the constant hum of traffic, but now the night is fairly quiet.  We have 2330 square feet, 3 bedrooms plus a den which we made into a bedroom for Dale, 2 bathrooms, a huge kitchen, a huge sunken family room, hardwood floors, a large deck, a playhouse for Emily, a large garden area, cherry trees, a grapevine, and rhodies!!!  We absolutely love our new home and are so grateful for God's blessing.  He gave us the home we needed instead of the home I desired.  Plus, having (almost) everything on one level makes life so much easier for all of us, especially Dale.  God is good!

So, life continues as usual, filled with activities, school, church, relaxation, softball (Chad), volleyball (Ashley and Emily), ups , downs, music, excitement, boredom, endless laundry, and love.  Our God remains our constant, and we rest in His care.  May you do the same.

I Peter 5:7  "Casting all your care upon Him; for He careth for you."

Wow, do I have a lot of explaining to do!

It has officially been five full months since I last wrote on this blog.  That is, without a doubt, an extremely long time between posts!  I have numerous explanations I could make, abundant excuses to submit, and plenteous details to frame why I've been silent for so long.  But, as usual, the plain truth is best.

I've been silent because I've been sick.  Sick of the excuses Dale makes why he doesn't try to keep up with his exercises, sick of trying to explain the ways of the Almighty to those who don't want to hear the truth, sick of working so hard to help my family see God's faithfulness in the midst of our daily struggles, and actually physically sick with a pretty bad cold.

Do you ever get that way?  Just sick of trying so hard at life and absolutely getting nowhere?  Feeling like you're slogging through thick, black mud; not understanding why life has to be so hard; alternating between begging God for help---and answers---and not bothering to even think a prayer because you feel as though He's not listening anyway?  Yeah, that's about it.

Trust me---you're not the only one feeling like that.  I can't tell you how many times I have had to convince myself to just keep trusting God.  I can't keep count of how many times I've felt like a hypocrite at church, smiling widely and praising God while my heart aches and my shoulders sag because of the burdens our family bears.  Time and again, I've felt like such a phony because I'm talking to my kids, reminding them that God is good and we can trust Him to make good come from anything, and the voice in my head is contradicting every single sentence I'm uttering.

But let me remind you:  We only fail when we quit.  We only lose the fight when we stop fighting.  We only fail when we quit letting God work.  And the wonderful part is....just because we quit doesn't mean we're done for good.  We can quit trying, quit fighting, quit believing; and then we can start again.  Rejoin the fight.  Decide to believe again.  Choose one more time to keep going.  All we have to do is get up one time more than we fall down.  All we have to do is start over one time more than we give up in defeat.  You see, our God is amazing.  He is loving and kind and forgiving.  Don't you know He knows how frail we are?  Don't you realize He knows how weak we are, how susceptible to the enemy's vile whisperings we are, how easy it is for us to sink under the overwhelming hardships of everyday life?  He is very aware of the temptations we face and the desire we have to just be done with it all, and He has promised never to leave us or forsake us (Hebrews 13:5).  God stays right there next to us, within arm's reach, never more than a breath away.  He never leaves us, even when we're done with Him.  When we rail at God, when we accuse Him of being deliberately cruel, when we think He doesn't care, when we just don't care any more, when we are at our lowest low, He is there.  Sometimes audibly through a friend's voice or a sermon or song; sometimes silently, just waiting there; ofttimes hurting, crying, right along with us.  Why would we ever think He doesn't care about us?  God sent His Son to Earth to die for us.  Of course, He loves us and wants to help us with our troubles.  We are the ones who doubt and struggle and turn away.  We are the ones who assign human emotions and human failings to our omnipotent, never changing, always loving Heavenly Father.  We are the ones who lose faith and then believe God did, too.  No, our God is faithful and good, and He is ever mindful of our needs, big and small.  As often as our problems dance before our eyes, we need to remind ourselves that our God is worthy of our trust.  Each time we face yet another struggle with doubt and despair, we must choose to believe God is able to fulfill His promise in Romans 8:28 to make all things work together for our good.  That doesn't necessarily mean we'll see how things can be good; we may never understand why God allows certain difficulties into our lives, but we can believe that He knows why those things are for our good.

Concerning Dale's actual condition, he is steadily losing ability.  Since his graduation last June, he has lost much of his desire to continue trying.  Just like the rest of us, he is realizing just how bleak his future looks.  He was fairly social, going to school and church and youth activities and family outings.  But now his world has shrunk to just church services and the occasional family trip.  He has exercise tools at his disposal (weights, strength balls, stretching bands, etc.) so that he can keep up his strength and muscle tone; but most days he chooses not to use those tools.  Instead, Dale spends much of his time either on his iPad playing video games or watching TV.  His reason for his deliberate decision to give up trying to improve physically?  "Why bother?  It won't do any good."  We've pleaded with him, scolded him, cajoled him, cried with him, begged him, yelled at him, bargained with him, argued with him---all to no avail.  The "talks" to try to encourage him inevitably turn into tears and anger because Dale is just about as stubborn as one can get.  He has decided he doesn't want to put forth any more effort that, in his mind, will get him nowhere; and no amount of persuasive arguing or bargaining or pleading has gotten through.

Dale honestly just wants to be done with this life.  He wants to go to Heaven where he will be able to walk again and move freely and run and move without falling.  He's so done with trying and struggling....and failing.  Every conversation we have with him ends with the same declaration:  He just wants it to be over.  We've tried reminding him of past successes with exercising and walking; we've tried reminding him that, six months ago before he gave up completely on trying to improve, he was doing better than he is now; we've tried arguing that he can't just give up now and wait to die because he might live for another sixty years!  Dale admits that he's gotten worse physically since he completely gave up; he is willing to concede that simply standing up requires concentrated effort now; he knows that he shakes and falls and struggles so much more now than he did even six months ago.  But he just doesn't care any more.  He's done.  Even the realization that he is making caring for him so much harder now does nothing to stir him from his chair.  Even knowing the stress we endure because of his declining condition and the physical pain we suffer from supporting his frame as we walk with him and the sharpened senses we've developed to be aware of his jerking and catch him before he falls doesn't change his attitude or his decision.  He's simply done.

To those readers who might think we're letting our son down by not forcing him to exercise, signing him up for biweekly physical therapy, enrolling him in some college course, or quitting our jobs to stay home to nurture and care for him, please understand that we've tried.  Dale is an adult now and cannot be forced to do things he doesn't want to do.  He is in a low place with no hope for a future that looks at all worth living for.  We have tried numerous times and ways to find things Dale can still do or enjoy, but each time he jerks or falls or struggles, the idea that "he can't" is strengthened in his mind and he resolves even more strongly to just stop trying.  We've looked into college, but Dale struggled to complete his high school courses; he can't take notes in a classroom setting or even just listen to the instructor without losing his train of thought.  His capacity for memorizing and taking tests is very limited as well.  He isn't retarded (I hate using that word!), just limited.  He also cannot get himself around very well, even in a wheelchair; his arms and legs jerk almost uncontrollably, and that jerking lately has led to a couple of serious seizures.  So he would need someone with him everywhere he goes, to assist him if he begins jerking or falling.  We've looked into physical therapy, but our insurance only pays for a half dozen appointments per year; it honestly wouldn't do Dale any good to go to one appointment every two months, especially when he won't keep up with any exercises at home.  Trust me, we've tried.  As for quitting my job to stay home with him, well, it may come to that.  Half my mind tells me to care for the ones God has given me to care for, even if the caring extends beyond the normal amount of years.  The other half tells me that staying home with my son wouldn't change much in his world, except perhaps inciting more arguments when he won't do any exercises and won't even try.  I love teaching and love being at school, but I've considered giving up my job in order to focus more on my son.  We do have other children to pay attention to, though, so Dale can't have our undivided focus.

Lost in all of this is our childlike faith in the perfectness of God's ways.  We have gone from being that family that said, "Whatever You choose, Lord, we will trust You," to now saying, "Why, Lord, did You allow this?  What are we supposed to do now?"  It was almost easy to trust God when circumstances were out of our control---the drowning and aftereffects, compared to now when the circumstances are very much in Dale's control and he chooses to just quit trying.  We are finding it much more difficult to keep trusting God's plan when we feel like, if Dale would just try, things would be so much easier.  I'm certain we are not the first family to ever face this particular giant of despair, and we won't be the last.  I pray that my girls, older and younger, will continue to trust God's unseen hand and serve Him regardless of the difficulty.  I pray my son will eventually see God again for the omniscient Father that He is, and will begin to have hope for the future again.  I pray my husband will not give up hope either and that he'll stay strong throughout the coming years.  I pray that I will be the candle that continues to shine in this darkness to show my family---my girls especially---that God is good.

One thing more:  In a recent talk I had with Dale, I discovered something amazing.  Back before the accident at age twelve, Dale had planned to be an inventor.  He would fill notebooks with drawings and ideas and would talk about these plans with his best friend.  The accident changed everything.  He struggled so much with school and walking and even holding a pencil to write.  I just assumed his dream of inventing things went by the wayside; I also assumed it was just a little boy's dream.  Do you know, Dale still has that dream inside him?  You should have seen his face light up when he was telling me about some of his ideas!  I want to find some way to help him achieve this dream.  This may be the catalyst that spurs him to action (literally) again, that pulls him out of his despair, that sets him on a path to hope and God.  I went to Wal-Mart and purchased him another notebook and set it on the table with a pen "just in case he had another idea he wanted to jot down."  This is something I would like to request specific prayer for:  that Dale could somehow be granted the gift of bringing one of his ideas or inventions to life.  I don't know how or when this could happen, but I would love to have others praying with me about this.

James 1:17  "Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights, with whom is no variableness, neither shadow of turning."

Well….now what???

You know that let-down feeling you get after Christmas?  You've spent the last month (or more) listening to Christmas carols; you've pushed your way through countless crowds each time you dare to enter a store to shop for that perfect present; you've decorated with only red and green for weeks; and you've had to install a hidden camera in the family room to make sure no one touches those gifts under the tree.  Finally, Christmas morning arrives!  The kids dive into the pile, shrieking madly, while Mom attempts to take pictures and Dad drinks his coffee.  Shredded paper, ribbons, bows, and boxes go flying as each person finally finds out what they got for Christmas.  The joy, the delight, the unsurpassed ecstasy of this moment!!!  And then….it's over.  No more surprises to unveil, no more presents to unwrap, no more "I hope I got _____ in my stocking!"  All that's left is a mountain of garbage and that sobering realization that there's nothing to look forward to for another year.  Actual depression sets in, along with a sense of bleakness, as the thing you longed for for so long now becomes a thing of the past.

That is kind of what we've been feeling since Dale's graduation.  That huge accomplishment we've all been working toward over the last several years is now, just, done.  There's no more need to push Dale to finish his school work or remind him of his end-game goals or go through his backpack to find PACEs that have been buried.  There's no more sense of anticipation mixed with dread over the looming deadline for school work to be completed.  There's no more scouring the stores for decorations for the big party or hoping everything goes well.  The announcements have been handed out; the ceremony has been concluded; the diplomas have been given; the streamers and balloons have been cleared away.  Now we're kind of in that fog of unreality thinking, "Now what?"

Every week, someone asks, "So what are Dale's plans?"  Honestly, I have no idea.  Chad, Dale, and I have talked long about possible ideas for the future, and we've looked into various programs for someone with Dale's disability.  But that's kind of it:  there is no set plan for someone with Dale's unique disabled condition.  Programs for disabled individuals range from requiring on-campus housing in Minnesota (no joke) to being tailored more for those in power chairs. Dale's inability to control his jerking limbs, his frequent shaking and falling, and his attention span deficiency make regular classroom attendance rather difficult.  He would basically need someone to attend classes with him to assist him with whatever problem presents itself that day.  Also, Dale struggled so much with recalling information and testing and writing in high school, I don't think traditional classes would work for him.  We're leaning toward online classes in some field, but I have a lot more research to do before we enroll him anywhere.  Plus, we're waiting to hear what programs or grants he may qualify for before making any major decisions about further schooling.  This is a matter we would love to have folks praying with us about.

Another matter for prayer:  Dale sees his new neurologist next week.  Since he is now officially an adult, he can no longer see his pediatric neurologist, the one who's been with us since the accident six years ago.  PLEASE, please pray with us that we'll like this new doctor and that he'll have a good understanding of Dale's case.  You know how hard it is to shop for doctors!  I don't foresee this doc changing Dale's meds or anything, but I'm still nervous.  Dale, per usual, is oblivious.  He'll probably ask me, "Why aren't we going to Dr. Al-Mateen any more?" despite my having explained it numerous times.  (Did I mention he has memory difficulties and the attention span of a gnat?)

And yet another thing (because issues never wait patiently for a time when you are ready to think about them):  School starts again in a few weeks!  AAAAhhhhhh!  Commence with the pulling out of the hair; stockpile paper bags for breathing; apply extra deodorant; and, whatever you do, don't make eye contact!  Just kidding, I love teaching and am looking forward to another school year.  We had intended for Katie to be "in charge" of Dale during the day while Emily, Ashley, and I were at school, because Katie worked afternoons and evenings.  She, however, just landed a new job at a Gene Juarez salon, and we're not sure what her new schedule will allow.  So Dale may still have to go to school with us every day, even though he's graduated and earned the right to never darken the doors again!  I was hoping he would not have to get up at 6:45 every morning any more, but it looks like that may still be the case.  Yea.

If you can't tell, our family uses humor and sarcasm a lot to diffuse our stress.  And, like every other family on the planet, we have a lot of stress!  Everyday things like the dog having accidents (how can it be called an accident when you just let her out five minutes ago?!), the TV going on the fritz (like, all the time), or dinner being burnt beyond recognition (why, no, that's never happened to me) can cause stress to anyone.  Non-regular events like trying to figure out how your son managed to wedge himself between the toilet and the wall when he fell (too many times to count...), having to keep a bowl under the dripping toilet tank (cracked when Dale fell) until you can replace the unit, and realizing that there's an almost-pleasing pattern to the numerous indentations in the walls (caused, yes, by Dale's bum each time he falls!) cause our family extra stress.  We choose to alleviate stressful situations with humor; we are a family that loves to laugh.  It's sometimes a little scary when we are all "on a roll" because we feed off each other and deliver one-liners until tears run down our faces.  And everyone gets involved:  Dad and Mom until the kids are rolling their eyes, Amanda (from afar), Katie (who's got the driest sense of humor, hilarious), Ashley and Emily (goofy girls!), and Dale with his craziness.  We use God's gift of laughter to relieve the strain of the burdens we carry.  I can't imagine life without laughter, can you?  I mean, who'd want to go through life with a straight face or, worse, a woebegone countenance?  We all experience sadness, discouragement, hardships, depression, but we don't have to let those emotions rule us.  We don't have to live sad, discouraged, hardened, or depressed.  That is the choice we make when we dwell on or in those difficult times.  Anyone viewing our family's history would believe us deserving of the right to the deepest depression, anger, and bitterness, but those attitudes are counterproductive to our well-being---physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual.  How can we be ready and willing to do whatever God asks of us if we are so resentful over His last request?  How can the Holy Spirit guide us if we are not listening to Him because of our grief and disillusionment?  I believe choosing to allay our stress, our anger, our fear with humor is, indeed, a gift God has blessed our family with.  I imagine if you look, you'll find special gifts God has given you to help cope with the pressures of daily life.

All this to say, life simply continues for the Ostrander family.  We are living and maturing and serving and loving and striving to please God in everything we do.  I have previously mentioned my prayer to God before Dale's accident: "Lord, please use our family to bring glory to You."  For months after the drowning, I would still pray that prayer, wanting God to know we desired Him to receive all honor and praise from Dale's miraculous recovery.  Somehow, in the busyness of life, I stopped praying that.  Oh, I still felt that way and remembered once in a while to tell God, but I stopped saying it on a regular basis.  Recently, I've gotten back into the habit.  "Lord, please use our family to bring glory to You."  Not that I want another drowning---goodness, no.  Not that I'm asking for some other horrific tragedy to befall us, no.  And, not that I think the only way for God to be glorified is through His people's suffering, of course not.  I simply want to remind my Heavenly Father (and myself in the process) that my desire is for Him to use us, however He sees fit.  This continual surrendering of my will to Him is the only true way to keep from becoming bitter and untrusting.  If I believe God's will is always good and I daily submit to God's will, I will never be angry at God's workings because I've already made the decision to trust Him no matter what.

Proverbs 3:5-6 says it perfectly:  "Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct thy paths."

Psalm 28:7 is excellent at explaining too:  "The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in Him, and I am helped:  therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise Him."

Take a breath….

This is it:  the moment we've all been waiting for.  This is the culmination of years of work, oceans of tears, reams of papers, buckets of sweat…you name it.  This day will go down in history as "The Day That Couldn't Happen."  Or maybe "The Day The Impossible Happened."  How about "The Day That Was Never Supposed to Happen"?

I don't know what to call this day, because calling it what it is seems so anticlimactic.  But here goes:  Monday, June 5, 2017, is the day my son graduates from high school.

I told you it seemed rather tame.  After the opening paragraph, you might have thought we were sending another man to the moon, but no---we're simply celebrating Dale's graduation from Bethel Baptist Christian School.  He has completed his high school courses successfully and is ready to march across the platform to accept his diploma.  We're very proud of him.

If you are new to our family's story, let me fill in some background details that might help you understand the title I chose.

Five and a half years ago, my son died.

You read that right.  Five and a half years ago, on Friday, August 5, 2011, my son Dale, along with his two older sisters and half the youth group, went on a teen activity.  They headed for the coast two hours away to enjoy some sun, water, and general goofiness.  Dale was new to the youth group, having just finished sixth grade two months prior.  Amanda, our oldest, kept an eye on him, concerned that he would pull some crazy shenanigans (he did that a lot!  Still does…).  Katie, our second oldest, played with her friends while the chaperones watched over everyone.  Throughout the morning and into the afternoon, the group was having a great time.  Teens were wading in the water, scouring the beach for driftwood, or just soaking up the sunshine.  The day was perfect…until two of our boys got their legs swept out from under them.  The undertow quickly carried them out into deeper water than they could handle, and they began to cry out in distress.  Two people nearby, a father and his daughter, heard them and responded; the father managed to get the one boy safely back to shore, but the girl, only twelve herself, was struggling to help the other boy, Dale.  They tried swimming to shore holding onto her boogie board, but the ocean swamped them.  Nicole, that brave young lady, recalls feeling Dale near her, grabbing his belt, and shoving him up towards the surface.  When they broke through, gasping for air, she told Dale to swim for shore with all his might.  Glancing back, she saw him right behind her.  But when she reached the beach, moments later, he was gone.

Frantic calls began flooding the emergency lines, reporting the incident.  Rescue personnel went into action:  police headed out to the beach, ambulance drivers raced toward the scene, the volunteer water rescue team started suiting up.  A photographer overheard the calls on the police band and followed the line of vehicles out to the water.  I'm so glad he did because he sent us every picture he took that day, from the time he arrived to the time Dale was pulled from the water…over twenty minutes later.  Paramedics worked on Dale's lifeless body right there on the beach, giving him CPR and even using the paddles to try to restart his heart.  Remember:  the youth group is right there, watching everything with horrified, disbelieving faces.  Our teens were the first responders:  they knelt on the sand, some of them face down, prostrate, and begged God that Dale be found and then that he'd regain life.  Our daughters were there when the panicked call went out to clear the water because Dale was missing; they were there when their brother's body was carried ashore, arms dangling.  They were there when he was strapped to a stretcher and loaded in an ambulance to be taken to the hospital.  The scars they carry to this day are emotional and deep…

I have never been so proud of my family as I was that tragic day.  My husband's first words when informed of the accident were "We need to pray."  Once the girls arrived at the hospital, before they even got to go back to Dale's room, Chad told them and me, "No matter what happens now, God will receive the glory."  Mind you, we all thought Dale was dead.  The paramedics had managed to restart his heart, but Dale wasn't breathing on his own, and the doctors were kind but offered no hope whatsoever.  We were warned that Dale's body might simply give up and shut down completely; we were told that, even if he regained consciousness, he might be in a vegetative state or unable to walk, feed himself, might need to wear a diaper, might not be able to talk.  Dale had simply been underwater, without oxygen, without pumping blood, for too long.  My girls stood at Dale's bedside and sang praises to our God.  I had long prayed that God would use our family to bring honor and glory to Himself.  None of us had any idea what He was about to do.

Two days later, Sunday, August 7, 2011, a meeting with the doctor indicated we should prepare for the worst.  Up to this point, Dale had exhibited no signs that his brain was still functioning.  The machines were breathing for him; there had been no response to stimuli; the doctor had taken Chad and me aside and told us that they had done all they could.  Chad begged him, "Give God a chance."  That night, Chad asked a doctor to demonstrate what Dale should be responding to.  The doctor leaned over and barked in Dale's ear, "DALE, WAKE UP!"  To our shock, Dale's eyes flew open, startling even the doctor.  The room immediately filled with people, all working to give Dale this fighting chance.  What they didn't realize was that God, now that the doctors had stepped aside, was flexing His muscles, about to show the entire world just what He could do.

Dale began to improve from that moment on.  He began breathing regularly on his own; he began responding to verbal commands as well as physical stimuli; when they took the ventilator tube out the next day and encouraged Dale to cough to clear his lungs, Dale shocked everyone again by saying, "I don't NEED to!"  We spent a couple of weeks at that hospital, while Dale relearned how to walk and breathe properly and all.  Then we transferred to another hospital closer to home, spending the next several weeks there, allowing Dale to relearn how to swallow, how to eat, how to brush his teeth, how to talk, everything.  God's hands were so evident, holding our son, soothing our fears, calming my stress.  I'm deliberately glossing over those first weeks; it's still an emotional topic for our family and me, as the storyteller.  The next year is a blur for Dale:  we went to physical therapy twice a week and speech therapy once a week.  We assisted Dale as if he were a toddler, though he turned thirteen before the first anniversary of the accident came around.  He changed from a young boy into a young man during that time; his voice dropped from its high pitch to a much lower one---he had trouble singing because he couldn't adjust to his different voice very well!

He lost a full year from his life, has only fuzzy recollections of those months, doesn't remember his therapists though he spent so much time with them.  He lost a year of schooling, plus a large portion of the next school year, struggling to figure out how to learn again, how to process information and repeat it on a test.  One of our teachers pointed out recently, "Dale has worked harder toward his graduation than most graduates.  He took six years of high school and crammed them into five."  Four and a half, actually.  To say he's struggled academically would be to say the sun is a little warm.  Dale has had to put at least three times as much work, time, and brain power into his studies as the average student does; school work that should take between twenty to forty-five minutes has taken Dale up to two days to complete.  Our school with its wonderful teachers and principals has worked with us nonstop to assist Dale in every way he needs, focusing on an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) for him and eliminating extra requirements.  As I'm writing this, Dale is downstairs, working on his last English PACE.  He's going to walk across the platform Monday night, June 5, 2017, having actually completed his high school education.  He's not being handed a participation award; he's not being given an obligatory piece of paper so he doesn't feel left out; he's graduating.  Nothing short of amazing describes this accomplishment.

Please realize that none, I repeat, none of this would have been possible without the Almighty's power.  God chose to give Dale life when Dale was supposed to die.  That is my belief.  Dale's life was supposed to end that day at the beach, but God heard His people's prayers and changed His mind, giving the world a chance to see Him in action.  In the weeks following Dale's miraculous recovery, we received an enormous amount of mail from every corner of the world.  We opened letters and packages from nearly every state, numerous countries, and several continents, not to mention the emails and Facebook messages.  This accident, this tragedy, this horrifying incident was used by God to show that He listens and that He has power the wisest doctors do not.  I am not downplaying the tremendous effort those doctors put forth on behalf of my son; their knowledge, support, and caring were more than we could have wished for.  I am saying that, when the doctors said they could do no more, that's when God allowed Dale to wake up, to begin to live again.  He chose to give us back our son, and we will never stop thanking Him and praising Him for His goodness.

Dale continues to struggle each day with various skills.  He has difficulty walking, especially using stairs; he is very unsteady on surfaces that are not level (like gravel, thick carpet, changing from one flooring to another); he speaks more slowly; sometimes his brain literally gets tired and he can't think any more; he must have assistance to walk anywhere; his limbs jerk without warning; writing takes time and effort.  I could continue the list, but I don't want to focus on the negatives.  Dale can brush his teeth, use the restroom, and dress himself; he can read and understand; he's still crazy and goofy; he's worked through anger at God and is now more accepting of his abilities and limitations; he is still stubborn and will argue with a signpost. He's still…Dale.  God, in His infinite graciousness, not only brought our son back to life but gave him back his life.  Oh, not the one Dale had planned out, not the one we parents dreamed of our son living in the hazy future, but a special life that only God Himself could have imagined.  God allowed Dale to live when he should have died, and now Dale is set to graduate high school.

What Dale's future actually holds is unclear still.  Dale still has desires and goals, and we're working toward making those a reality.  We have looked into various opportunities and courses for disabled individuals; we have begun the lengthy process of having Dale declared disabled so that he can receive assistance that will enable him to pursue whatever he desires, whatever God desires.  For us, it's best not to dwell on what might have been---we don't do well when we start thinking about all that we used to wish for.  Not that we haven't talked about Dale's former dreams and goals, but we know too many walks down memory lane lead to anger and depression, which is counter-productive to moving forward.  God understands when we cry out in confusion and pain over the "used-to-coulds," but I believe we bless the Father's heart when we follow those cries with words of acceptance and gratitude for all He has done.  If you don't know our family personally, you might think that we're holier-than-thou people who float through life with our heads in the clouds.  Trust me---nothing is further from the truth!  We're an ordinary family, full of regular human beings, who faced one of life's greatest tragedies and are even now living in the aftermath of that event.  We feel the pain, the anger, the disillusionment, the fear, the abandonment, the "we were serving You, Lord; why did You let this happen?"  We simply chose---and still choose---to trust.  We.  Trust.  God.  Every day.  Every hour.  Every minute.  It's not easy and it's not pretty, but it's the life God gave us, and we're going to trust His plan…and live it.

So, kudos to all those graduating high school this year.  It took a lot of work and time, but you've earned it.  Congratulations also to all the parents and grandparents who've worked so hard to get your graduate to this point.  Goodness knows, we need a vacation after the last twelve years!  Maybe a refreshing week in a mental ward….

To everyone who has read this blog, especially those who have been following Dale's story since the accident; to all the wonderful folks who have prayed for our family; to the generous individuals who have blessed us with food, clothing, finances, and more; to the newcomers who are just realizing that the young man we're talking about is "that boy who drowned" whose image is forever frozen in our minds because of the heart-wrenching picture that headlined news accounts of the accident; to our God, Who is faithful and kind and all-wise and forever; to you we say, "Thank you."  You have touched our lives in ways we can never fully explain without choking on tears.  You have blessed our hearts with your love and prayers.  You have brought our son and our family before the throne so often that God's attention is always on us.  You have been so encouraging with your words and caring questions and love.  It's been a journey, hasn't it?  One we would never have chosen to embark on, but one that has changed our lives and enriched our lives in ways we could never have imagined.  And it's not over---I'm not shutting down the blog just because Dale is graduating.  Life doesn't end after graduation.  Just as life doesn't end after death…. Please, if you have never thought about where your soul will spend eternity after this life is over, please read the section of this blog entitled "Something Dale Would Like You to Know."  Talk to someone about God's desire for you to spend eternity in heaven with Him.  Please don't let another moment pass without settling this all-important matter.

We all want to see God's hand in our lives.  We all would love to feel His presence working with us through our hardships.  We all desire a demonstration of God's might and power.  Our family knows God is still in the miracle-working business.  We see one every time we look into Dale's eyes.

I've decided what to title this post:  "The Day Only God Knew Was Possible."

Mark 10: 27  "And Jesus looking upon them saith, With men it is impossible, but not with God: for with God all things are possible."

"Luke 15: 24  "For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found."

Life can be unexpected….

Who was it that said, "The more I try to do, the more I fall behind"?  This describes my life perfectly.  I keep telling myself to stop volunteering for activities and functions---and I've succeeded to some degree---but then life decides to add twists and turns to my days, and that's when things get absolutely chaotic….

Take, for instance, the month of January.  New year, new beginnings, fresh start to life, right?  Not so much for the Ostrander family.  Over the Christmas holidays, my second youngest, Ashley, was sick with what was probably the flu.  She had a slight fever, vomiting, and a burning sensation in her stomach that finally went away after about a week.  Her appetite took a little longer to return, which meant poor Ashley was feeling ill for most of her school vacation.  Fast forward to Thursday, January 5.  My second oldest, Katie, began feeling a similar pain in her stomach, accompanied by fever and nausea.  She was ill clear through Sunday, January 8, when she spent the day vomiting.  By that night, she was asking to go to the ER, but Chad and I both said that would be extreme.  After all, she'd not been vomiting even 24 hours; they'd tell us it was just the flu and to drink fluids.  Monday seemed to bring some relief:  no more vomiting, although the abdominal pain was still there, presenting itself in waves.  I'd spent the weekend on Google attempting to pinpoint exactly what Katie's symptoms indicated---intestinal virus, appendicitis, female problems---and could only conclude that she'd picked up whatever flu bug Ashley had had earlier.  We honestly thought she'd continue to improve and would eventually feel better.  Boy, was I wrong!

Katie's pain persisted throughout that week.  She was upset about that for multiple reasons:  (1) she didn't feel at all well; (2) she could only eat bland foods in an attempt to pacify her stomach; and (3) she had told me she had an important job interview on Saturday morning, January 14, that she simply couldn't miss.  Chad and I encouraged her to keep her basic schedule, getting some housework done during the day and going to her cleaning job at night.  That makes us sound like bad parents, I know, but our philosophy is the world doesn't stop just because you don't feel well.  Hindsight, however, tells just how off we were!  Her appetite was greatly diminished, and she just didn't seem to be getting any better, despite eating a bland diet and drinking as much water as she could handle.  Friday, January 13, I tried to get her in to see her doctor, only to find out that it had been so long since we'd seen the doctor that we were no longer considered current patients.  Blessing in disguise?  I started the request process to be accepted back as patients and decided to just take Katie to Urgent Care.

That place was packed!!!  So much flu going around, so many ill people---I was scared to breathe.  Katie had to wear a mask, since we thought she had the flu; her skin reacted, causing a slight rash on her face.  We finally got called back to an exam room where the nurse took her vitals and registered the information in the computer.  The doctor took another ten minutes to come in, but that was to be expected with the overflowing waiting room.  When she entered, she asked us to explain again Katie's various symptoms and how long they'd been persisting.  Then the big moment came.  The doctor asked Katie to lie back on the table so she could examine her abdomen…..and Katie couldn't do it.  Her stomach/abdomen had been hurting so much that it was easier to stay in a semi-hunched position; thus, it simply hurt too much to try to lie back and stretch her abdomen out fully.  The doctor took all this in with one glance and stepped back.  "I think there's something bigger going on here than I can treat, and you need to go the ER," she said.  Katie began crying.  "No, Mom, I can't be sick!  I can't go the ER!"  I assured her that she'd be fine once we got things figured out and not to worry about the job interview because she could explain once she got better.  That was when the big news broke:  "Mom, I don't have an interview.  I have to go to the airport!"

The airport could only mean one thing:  Amanda, my oldest, was coming for a visit!  A surprise visit, that I wasn't supposed to know about.  My husband and two oldest girls had cooked this up as a special surprise for me, since Mandie hadn't been able to come home for Christmas.  This was the super important "interview" that Katie couldn't miss.  Now I started crying!  The poor doctor just stood there, completely in the dark as to what was going on.  I managed to calm Katie down somewhat, explain to the doctor in a few sentences what was happening, and gather the paperwork we needed to head for the ER.  Next step of our journey:

Once at the ER, we signed in and began the wait to be seen.  They took us back for a few minutes to check Katie's vitals and such, but it was an hour and a half before we were taken to an exam room.  Short for the ER but still interminable when you're in pain.  The doctor came in to see Katie; this time, when asked to lie back, she was able to do it.  The doctor pressed on her abdomen in different places and decided to do a CT scan, since he believed she had a kidney stone.  This was something I hadn't considered, but he seemed to think it was so.  Once the scan was complete, we began the next waiting period; by now Katie was just wanting to figure things out and go home.  The intake nurse had set an IV port which was already causing trouble, Katie was exhausted from pain and illness, and she was still feeling terrible for letting out the secret of Amanda's visit.  Suddenly the exam room curtain whipped back.  The doctor entered and as suddenly closed the curtain behind him, ensuring complete privacy.  Katie and I glanced fearfully at each other; this was not the expected "here's your diagnosis and prescription."  He abruptly said, "So tell me more about when you were sick last week."  We recounted the details of her illness, starting with Thursday and going through the vomiting on Sunday and the persistent pain up to the present.  He said, "Well, it's not a kidney stone.  You have a perforated appendix."

What??!!!  I'd checked appendicitis symptoms, and hers didn't fit the description.  I gasped at his announcement, but poor Katie didn't realize what he meant.  Turns out, her appendix had apparently ruptured sometime Sunday (when she wanted to go to the ER, go figure!), but her body had walled off the area, preventing her from going into septic shock.  After the doctor vindicated me by saying her appendicitis didn't present with the normal symptoms, we were informed that Katie would not be leaving that hospital until she had had an appendectomy.  Thus began our six-day stay in the hospital.  I called Chad, waking him up about an hour before he had to go to work, and told him what was going on.  He called his supervisor (Miss June is a saint!) and was able to get someone to cover his shift so that he could (a) come to the hospital to see Katie and (b) pick up Mandie from the airport.  Ashley was now left holding down the fort at home while Katie and I prepared to spend some unexpected time together in the surgical ward.

Her appendectomy took place mid-Saturday morning, but her recovery would take much, much longer.  Because her appendix had ruptured nearly a week earlier, her intestinal tract/abdomen was a complete mess.  The doctor was able to clean everything out, but he had to use gas to inflate her abdomen so there would be no chance of nicking something unintentionally; he also had to insert a drain to allow excess fluids to be drained off.  We had been warned that the best way to get rid of the surgical gas is to walk around, but this was incredibly painful for my girl.  She did it, though; Katie is a definite trooper!  However, the next several days were horrible:  she was in a tremendous amount of pain from the surgery, the trapped gas pockets were highly uncomfortable, she had zero appetite, and her intestinal tract was nonfunctioning.  The doctors seemed to think everything was progressing normally, and once her digestive tract picked up again and her white blood count came down, they released her.

Thankfully, during this time, Amanda had become the "mother" at home, making sure the kids got to/from school, fixing meals and lunches, and reminding about homework.  We had Monday, January 16, off school, and Chad had already arranged for someone to sub for me on Tuesday and Wednesday so that I could spend time with Mandie---which turned into spending time with Katie, who needed a sympathetic someone with her constantly.  Chad did take a shift at her bedside so that Mandie and I could go to the mall for some fun time.  Katie spent half her time apologizing from her hospital bed for ruining the special plans they'd made and the other half groaning in pain.  Even after we got her home, she was in constant pain and struggling to take the monstrous antibiotics they'd sent her home with.  We kept hoping she'd eventually turn a corner and begin to feel better, but that was yet to happen….

Five days later, on Tuesday afternoon, January 24, I got Katie in to be seen by one of the doctors in the surgical practice.  I just felt that she wasn't improving like she should have been---a suspicion confirmed by the doctor's suggestion that we go back to the ER.  We spent four hours waiting to be seen there, having checked in and had a second CT scan done.  Finally, we received the news:  Katie had developed abscesses in her abdomen from the surgery.  The doctors weren't sure if these abscesses were filled with just extra fluids or filled with pus, but they readmitted her because she needed IV fluids and antibiotics.  The ER was so full, we were put in a bed in the hallway!  We were told we would probably stay there all night before a bed would open up in the morning, but we thank God that we received a bed in the newly-opened post-op waiting room---and this bed was in a private room!  The rest of the patients were in beds separated by curtains, but we got a room with a door and a bathroom!!!  Turns out that door was necessary because Katie had also developed an intestinal infection that was highly contagious.  We were only in the hospital two days this time around, long enough for them to determine (1) they couldn't drain the abscesses without causing more damage, (2) the abscesses weren't filled with infection, just fluids, and (3) she had developed an allergic reaction to the original antibiotics.  This time when they released Katie, she had new antibiotics to take and I had specific instructions to scrub the house with bleach to prevent anyone else from getting the intestinal infection. 

The good news is that this time, there was definite improvement!  Katie began having less pain and so needed less pain medication; she actually had to coat the antibiotics with butter to get them to slide down her throat (!); and she began to feel hungry.  Her final check-up with the surgeon a week later revealed some interesting facts:  the antibiotics were causing the nasty taste in her mouth which was in turn making everything taste horrible (that would clear up once she finished the meds), so her appetite would soon return; the sharp pain she still felt when bending over was caused by the still-healing drain site which had had to punch through muscle (as opposed to the laparoscopic site which avoided major organs and muscles); and she had apparently looked "like death warmed over" the week prior when she had had to be readmitted!  He gave her permission to return to work on a lighter schedule at first, then more as she felt able.  She still deals with occasional trapped gas, and she frequently feels exhausted after some activity that would normally just leave her tired.  But she's healed very well and is able to resume her normal life activities, and we thank God so much for that. 

His hand was very apparent in all of this, and anyone who cannot see that is simply not looking.  Her appendix rupturing, her body closing off that area to prevent sepsis, her doctor not able to see her so the need to go to Urgent Care, the dreaded diagnosis, Amanda's timely arrival to help with the house and kids, the two hospital stays, the sub who so willingly filled in for me in my classes, the private room for her second hospital visit, the medication that she thought she'd choke on but that did the trick, the explanation for the extended loss of appetite---everything shows us that God is in control and He knows exactly what is going on, even when we don't.  There are always going to be problems in life and situations we don't understand.  There are always going to be difficulties and struggles and hardships.  There are always going to be unexpected bills to pay and uncertain futures and unanswered questions to face.  The one thing we can know to be certain, settled, and definite is God.  His presence, His omniscience, His care, and His love are always there.  Sometimes in the middle of our crazy, stressed, pull-our-hair-out chaos, we lose grasp of the fact that He's always there with us, right in the middle of the seemingly never-ending storm.  But He is.  When we choose to place our faith in God, we are choosing to align ourselves with Him and, what's more, let Him have control.  It's like we're walking with God through a hurricane.  When we step out from behind His protection and face the storm on our own, we're forcibly struck with the realization that we cannot handle the intensity of the swirling destruction by our own power; we need His hand to shield us from the worst of the storm's wrath.  Oh, we'll still get wet; we'll still get buffeted with strong winds; we may even lose our homes or our health or sometimes our friends and family.  But---and this is key---how much greater would our loss be if we hadn't let Him lead?  If we hadn't given Him control?  If we hadn't yielded to His protection and endured the storm with Him by our side?  I'd much rather face life's storms letting God be my Guide than get angry with His decisions or question His choices and try to strike out on my own.  After all….

Romans 8: 31-32 "What shall we then say to these things?  If God be for us, who can be against us?  He that spared not His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, how shall He not with Him also freely give us all things?"