I am going to get real with you…

Anyone else struggle to make their village?!?

I am pretty sure I have shared my past experience of not being the type of girl, young adult or now woman who has naturally fit in groups of women…
Women are emotional, messy, and dynamic all at the same time, because multitasking is what we do best, am I right?

This is and has been something that I have felt shame for or at times felt completely and utterly alone. I have been told that I am intense, too serious, hard to read or have an intimidating exterior. I have fought those labels, felt crushed and am still trying to not let those wounding words leave cuts that can’t be healed.

Why am I sharing this?

I recently was blessed by an intimidate baby shower thrown by two of my friends that went above and beyond to let me know that I am loved and that I am someone worth investing in.

There was this one time I heard another woman share that her circle of friends were not going to throw a baby shower for a woman within their circle because it was her 4th baby and she didn’t need to have a shower. That stayed with me. It made me believe that there is some sort of cap for baby shower etiquette and if your family design abuts societal norms then don’t be thinking your new little baby is worth being honored…

Richard and I talked one night and I told him that I didn’t expect anyone to take the role on to shower our family with this 5th baby. I was honestly really ok with it. When I passed the 1st trimester I started grabbing a package of diapers or nursing pads or anything I see that is a smart choice to purchase at the time. Being a family that is well over the recommended carbon foot print and being a one income family, I wanted to help ease the stress new babies always bring. I swear the tiniest, most vulnerable member of the family is the most expensive!

My very sweet friend who has 4 babies herself came to me and told me her plans. I almost cried, here was a friend that wanted to love on me and celebrate our newest addition.

 Along with another dear friend who is sadly moving from our small island, they worked as a team and prepared an afternoon that mirrored my heart, tastes and yes even a selfish want.

I loved how practical the decor was!  

Leave it to my two friends who are stay at home mommies and are always trying to be resourceful. I am going to treasure the hand made head bands that each of my girlfriends made for baby girl!

After I spent the afternoon surrounded by genuine real women I couldn’t help but feel so blessed to have finally found my village. My village isn’t comprised of just peers or being with the same religious beliefs either, which I really really love. It has taken time…31 yrs to be exact to find my sisters.  Some of us breastfeed, some don’t.  Some have multiple kids, some don’t, some cloth diaper and some don’t.  Some have super strong opinions on how to raise kids and some are just learning as they go, everyone of these ladies is special because they aren’t pretending to be someone else, they are being themselves.  It has taken me having to learn to hold back my stronger traits and wait and pray for ladies that won’t run the other direction from me. I have in these last few years been surrounded by women who encourage me, challenge me, see some good in me somehow and most of all actively choose to be in my life.  I wish I had pictures of all of you who came!  We had too much fun chatting 😉

To my village, to my sisters, thank you. Thank you for carving time in your busy lives to allow me to be a part of your stories and thank you for being who you are! I treasure you all so much more then I know I can say or at times show. Thank you for coming and assuring my overly sensitive hormone driven heart and telling me that this new little life coming is worth celebrating.

P.S.
I love love love my new carrier (even if my face didn’t say it!  I was holding back tears from your kindness) -you ladies are the best

“Don’t you see that children are God’s best gift?  Th fruit of his womb his generous legacy? Like a warrior’s fistful of arrows are the children of a vigorous youth.  Oh how blessed are you parents, with your quivers FULL of children!” ~Psalm 137:3-4

Somebody just asked us at church how old Ya’el is, when we responded, they said “there’s no way!”

I have to admit these two years with Ya’el Ariel Ruth, aka Boo, have gone by so fast. She earned the nickname Boo, thanks to those little piggy tails accompanied with her dark brown hair and eyes, many people told us she looked just like Boo from Monsters Inc.

I struggle, maybe because I am yet again growing another human inside my body and my brain keeps telling me that I need to make room for an infant and I am unable to accept the fact that Ya’el is now a toddler. I look at Ya’el and tell myself all the time “but she is still such a baby”. I didn’t feel that way when I was gearing up for a newborn with her siblings, I didn’t struggle with accepting the much missed yet can’t wait for it to end baby phase. I have never been one to want to wrap up my kids in tiny little bubbles and not let them grow. I want them to leave the nest, equipped, confident and self assure they can grow up. But this time, this time has been different.

A friend recently told me that I might be struggling because in our hearts we had finally said our final fair wells to anymore children. We really did say goodbye.  We moved on, held a newborn Ya’el and felt complete, felt the need to move out of this newborn phase.  For those of you who read my blogs and followed our story personally, I know…we have said our final fair wells 3x now…but

God and His plans…

I have held Ya’el longer when she has slept in my arms, I have relinquished my consistent rules that I refused to break on her other siblings, I have caught myself just staring at her. She draws you in if you aren’t careful. You could sit forever and watch her little piggy tails bouncy as she hops from one place to the next, while humming whatever song is on her heart. I know this to be true because when I go places with her and succumb to her free spirit, I get the pleasure of steeling glances of others who can’t help but smile as they watch this little one drink in life.

We recently switched the rooms in our home (something that if you are close to us, you have experienced we get restless with room assignments and furniture placing). Ezzy moved into the room with her sisters and Cayden moved into the old playroom. We expected some resistance from the parties involved, yet we have been pleasantly surprised with the outcome. I learned on the recent trip with Ezzy, that when Ya’el doesn’t want to sleep or is fussing, she climbs into bed with Ezzy. After seeing a very tired Ezzy one morning, I was informed that Ya’el had woken with the early morning sun and climbed in bed with Ezzy and wanted to name off all the body parts she knows or every family members name.

Ya’el woke up one day this last week and decided to not be a baby anymore. She will joyfully tell you that she is 2 and struggles to get two little fingers to stand up by themselves. Ya’el will talk to you in a sentence format, but the trick is having one of her trusted translators close by. Ya’el also has decided that she is ready to potty train and since Friday, has told us 75% of the time when she needs to go potty!!!! Leave it to the #4 to do things on her own.

Every morning, the first thing that comes out of her mouth is “cerwerl”, cereal, she climbs up in her seat and let’s her blood sugar slowly return to normal as she sits in silence away from the rest of the family still trying to wake up. Within just a few minutes you will see her little legs swing from the bench and she might even say hi to someone as they walk by. Once the bowl is empty she climbs down and starts the adventures on her jammed packed list. It use to really drive me nuts that she is an early riser, even more so now that sleep is so precious to me. Thankfully I have an ever present, hands on husband that attends to the needs of our early risers. Now I find myself chuckle when I hear the fast rhythmic shuffling of her feet scurry across the floors as I am nestled in my bed, knowing that she has woken up and can’t wait to start her day.

Ya’el will chase her daddy to the door and have her arms spread wide and lips ready to give a kiss when he heads to work. She needs you to say “bye” to her when she waves her beauty queen wave and says bye or she will keep repeating herself. If you want to have a snuggle party on the couch, she is your girl. After each shower she craves to be rocked back and forth as you sing “sweet baby, sweet baby Ya’el” thanks to her daddy starting that tradition. Ya’el craves to be held and will follow you around the house and say “up”, the moment you pick her up, she will wrap her arms tight around your neck or tuck them in and release a sigh of relief. As if her love cup became dangerously low, she runs to find the nearest person who will hold her tight until she has reached livable levels. I have found her in her brother and sisters arms in moments that my arms could not fill up her urgent request.

I love hearing her sweet little voice sing along to any music she hears. She has shown me time and time again that all the time she spent inside my womb, listening to worship music has had a lasting impact on her need to express herself in song.

Our days can get a little intense and sometimes, the level of patience we give to one another can wane, but I have found its in those times that Ya’el will take it upon herself to change the energy in the room. She loves to laugh, she loves to play games with you, most of the time you can actually look in her eyes and realize that she is up to something.

We have looked at baby pictures of myself, my mom has said countless times that Ya’el the spitting image of me, yet her personality is nothing like mine. She is her father to a T.

As the months have flown by since finding out that Ya’el would no longer be the baby of the family I have found myself wondering how she will feel about not being the baby to everyone. I have worried it might wreck her. She has never been labeled an easy going child, in fact when I have to run errands with her I never know what to expect. Unlike her siblings that I could read and determine the outcome, going and doing things with Ya’el is like rolling dice.

When Ya’el turned one we missed out on doing a party for her. We were traveling for Ezzy’s big surgery last year and returned with two sick kids. By the time our family was healthy, weeks had gone on and we never did a party for her. To be honest, the response from her parents was “it’s not like she knows what she missed”. Thankfully this year we were able to do a small party with family and her surrgate parents Joel and Kalli. I am beyond thankful she has people outside her mom and dad that she knows loves her dearly. I have spent many Sunday’s watching her leave our arms and run straight into theirs.

My heart has found peace in just this last week as I have watched her become so proud of the new things she is learning to say and do. I have also loved seeing she wants to be a big girl and no longer wants to be identified as a baby. Daniel tiger has been instrumental in preparing her for being a big sister. I know that her special spot in her daddy’s heart will be a place she finds comfort in as she learns to share her momma. I know that she is going to love having her older siblings home this summer and go on fun adventures and be seen as a big kid. I know that when the time comes for her to get her love cup filled up and recharge she will understand there is a little baby that needs it too. I know that the love she freely gives has brought more joy to us then we could have hoped in the short 2 years of her life. I know that God created her to fill a spot only she can in our family, I am ever grateful she is ours.

Happy birthday Boo

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Today the most important man in my life turns 33. In all the chaos of life, his birthday snuck up on us. For the 2nd year in a row, Ezzy has stolen the spotlight and we are completely consumed with her care. But in all honesty this humble man wouldn’t have it any other way. Some might still be surprised to hear that, mainly because they don’t see or interact with him regularly to experience the dramatic change that has taken place in his life.

I am forever grateful that God decided to move William Richard Harney to rainy Ketchikan Alaska. His family lived on the other side of the US, Baltimore Maryland. Why on earth a family, surrounded with their own family on the east coast would pack up and move to a tiny island that has 5 stop lights, intersections and a road system that abruptly ends on each side of the island is so clearly divinely planned to me.

A friend in highschool introduced me to Richard, I can’t shake that day. We were sitting in sophomore hall talking and I remember her saying “here he comes”. I looked up, saw a 16 year old boy full of more testosterone than seemed legal, a goatee, earrings, ball cap, a grey sweatshirt (yes I remember the colors even) kaki skater pants and skater shoes. My heart didn’t skip a beat, I didn’t see him and say “that is the one”. I simply saw a boy, shrugged it off and went back to my life…

There are days when he stands at the front door, a head overtaken with grey hair, breakfast on a plate (because he spent his morning making it for everyone else and didn’t get a chance to sit and eat it while it was hot), he locks eyes with me as I sit and sip my hot coffee trying to armor up for the day. It is in that moment time stands still, my heart will skip a beat, a smile over takes the corner of his mouth and I know exactly what that man is telling me without a single word uttered.

He was just 17 when he decided I was the one to pursue, I was 16, wanted nothing to do with the jerk that was on my soccer team.

He is 33, I am 31, I can’t imagine a day without him in my life, I am still pursued, sometimes more intently then I was when I was 16.

We recently took our babies on a walk in the blip of sunshine we received. We dropped the commitments already booked on our calendar for the day, something we rarely do. Responsibilities followed through is a big deal for our family. Yet he called me at the end of his work day and said, let’s go walk and ride bikes. How do I say no? I have been blessed with a man that chooses us daily, more then daily, chooses us with each breath he takes.  Do I wonder what life would have been like had we parted our ways permanently? Yes, there have been days my mind wanders, especially when the stress is high. I was bound for a private east coast college, he was pursing his love of soccer in college. I recall making the call, deciding to stay close to him. I recall the moment I thought I made a mistake, telling him I needed space. He waited, waited for me to spread my wings. To make sure I knew as he did, that we were meant for eternity.

He works harder then most men his age I know, I sometimes have to corner him and tell him to turn it off! I see him walk in the door, heavy shoulders, a look on his face that he desperately needs to go and retreat in time out, but there he is, engulfed with little ladies wrapped around his legs, a son demanding his immediate attention. His eyes lock on mine, no words need to be said, I know what he is saying…

I am watching his care extend beyond his own children. He chooses every season, every sport to coach our kids. That means that 8-12 kids come under his wings. It means that when I watch games come and go, there are little souls running up to him, hanging on him, resting in his care as they are seen as valued.

Summer seems to turn most wives into widows. Not me, please don’t think I am judging your circumstance if it does the opposite for you. It is our story, our journey, one that we have chosen together. Summer means that he has soccer teams to coach on Friday and Saturdays, meaning the deer hunt has to be put on hold, the early morning bite is going to have to happen without his pole in the water. It means that he is going to get out of bed, go and wake his little warrior up, hold her, tell her she is precious to him, put her on her vest and snuggle his other babies as we get ready for our always packed Saturday’s. He chooses us, trusting that if we are taken care of well, provisions will come in abundance, a family rooted in Christ will happen, hunts, weekends to himself with happen when God ordains it too.

A new little life is growing inside of me, responding to his deep voice when he decides to call out her name as the rich tones of his voice vibrate on my belly. I see him already making room for another soul that is going to depend on him, need his care and love. Does he have days where caring for 6 mouths gets to him, um yeah, I don’t know how it couldn’t, but he does it with grace and assurance that God created him for this life.

When I think about the cocky youthfully arrogant 17 yr old boy that is now the confident 33 yr old man centered in Christ, I see a testimony of the power of God. I see a man being honored, a man that God absolutely believes will lead his family in love to the throne room of God, a man that sees what has been given to him as a blessing and not a curse.

If you see my man today, wish him a happy birthday, he is a man that lives behind the background, rarely receiving the recognition for all that he does for us and many others.
Happy birthday my Ephesians 5 man!

Have you ever had to go into a situation that had your logical and irrational sides of your brain at war? Yeah, those moments…they seem to make you evaluate what you believe to be true and also place you into situations where you have to decide if a fear has validity. It always comes down to a choice, a choice that you have to make.

 I will admit, I was not in a good state of mind entering another procedure room, having another large needle invade the safe little home that I have been slowly growing for our precious number 5. I have seen prayers go unanswered, I have witnessed loss when you least expect, but most of all the new OBGYN decided to freak me out by telling me a scary story of an amniocentesis ending badly…why on earth He would say it to a pregnant woman still baffles me. I had done the research before, understood the risks, but again was faced with this decision being made for me. High risk, history of genetic mutation are all on my medical chart. The unknown and Ezzys entrance into the world that required an airlift to Seattle and an entire team working to save her life now impacts her mom’s prenatal care she receives on a remote Alaskan island.

I had very little sleep the night before, we did our best to get to bed early, knowing we would need to be up and on the road by 7:15 at the very latest.   

 Thankfully the city traffic wasn’t horrible and we arrived with a few extra minutes to spare. We went through the consults, talked with the genetic counselor, you know the “will the results of the amino determine your decision to proceed with the pregnancy” talk. After sitting through those talks, angry at a world that allows murder to take place on innocent souls that have done nothing wrong, I gathered up what little strength I had and headed to get my blood drawn. The last step needed before getting my amino.

I sat in the cold phlebotomist’s office, btw, why are their offices always cold? I handed over my arm, silently talking with God and laying down my anxious thoughts at His feet. I looked up after the vile had been filled and glanced at the name tag of the person who managed to poke me with little awareness to my stubborn rolling veins. I like to look at people’s name tags, something a pastor encouraged us to do in a sermon. He reminded us many times people who wear name tags work in thankless jobs, he told us to read their tags and say thank you followed up with their name. I did this out of habit, but suddenly realized I had been given a divine message from my Abba Father.

The name of little Harney #5 is unique, I doubt a person could even think we would consider this name. I’ll admit, we have kids with unique names, but this one we struggled even finding in a baby name registry. As God would have it, the person drawing blood at the hospital had our child’s name as their last name. I smiled, thanked my vampire and told them they shared a name with our little gift. They expressed shocked, mentioned it’s not a name they have ever heard to be given as a first name and then asked why we chose it. Then, right there, I took the opportunity that God had designed to happen that day. I shared the meaning, the scripture passage and why this name is so precious to us. On the 7th floor of Swedish hospital, a phlebotomist was given a condensed salvation message. 

Honestly how many times do we really take every opportunity to share the Gospel in everyday life? Me, I will absolutely say I get timid, afraid, let my head get in the way. But on March 24th, through the power of the Holy Spirit I bodily proclaimed Jesus Christ to someone who has drawn blood from countless women who have decided the sanctity of life was not important enough to save their child that would enter the world in a different package then they expected…

The amino went well, it was uncomfortable, but not like Ya’el’s and I left feeling completely covered and protected. How could I not, God had been busy that day, reminding me that he goes before me.

Well, those results that came from the blood draw and amino are in…

I was standing in the kitchen after a quick grocery store trip. Bags of food needing to be put away and a land line ringing, something I tend to ignore more then I should. Then my cell rang, good Lord, who ever is calling sure needs to talk now. I grabbed my phone, saw the Seattle area code and thought, “huh, wonder what this is about”. It was too early for my results, they said 2-3 weeks…

“Hello, are you still there?”

As if someone snapped their fingers I replied, “yes, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting the results yet, isn’t this too early?” 

 
I was told the test was taken, sent off and processed at the most perfect time. They verified and knew this was in fact the answer we had been preparing for since the day we found out life was forming inside me.

After Richard and I talked, I told him it was heavy on my heart that we talk to Ezzy first, one and one, no siblings and let her process it with us. Thankfully my mom was free and we took her out for some icecream. 

 
“Ezzy girl, do you know why we are here?…we want to talk with you, alone…remember the big needle…the doctor called to tell us the results…the baby doesn’t have CF…”

As her head sank to the table, eyes drawing it to the floor and shoulders rolled forward, I knew why God said, she needs you to talk to her, just her, no one else around…

“Awe, but why?…I don’t want to be the only one with CF…it’s lonely”

During my pregnancy with Ya’el her little heart thanked God for her health right before the amnio, she claimed health with her untainted childlike faith.

This time, after a trying year with a growing and maturing understanding of Cystic Fibrosis, her perspective has changed.

Ezzy is having a hard time, I mentioned it in her blog for her 6th birthday. The emotional side of CF is weighing her down. She is fighting therapies, she sets the mood for the entire day and family as she is holding her power over us. Her brother tries to get the vest on her, Ya’el brings it to her, Kyre gets Candy, they all sit around her and she still fights it to the final straw. Her recent sickness meant 6 days of missed school, therapy 4x a day, I.e. Drill sergeant mom enforcing what is not negotiable in our home. 6 days away from friends, 6 days feeling like crap, run down, coughing up green mucous and seeing everyone else in the family carry on has left a massive chip on her shoulder.  

We were driving home from school on Friday and as I pulled into the driveway Ezzy said “I don’t want to go to heaven, it will be lonely, you guys won’t be there”. Thank goodness the car was in park, I might have not held it together, I felt all the air exhale out of my body and was stuck inside my head and heart going “what do I say?!?…how is she afraid of Heaven…I am failing her…she knows CF means mortality?!?!…Lord, please”. As my lungs began to fill with air and I saw two little dark brown eyes looking at me, I heard an 8 year old full of more wisdom and faith then his adult mom. “Ezzy, don’t be scared, Ken will come find you”. Heaven, heaven is tangible to my 8 yr old because of the loss of my mentor, but Heaven became tangible in a little heart, speaking out of fear that day, because of a loss she could understand.

 
I have been thinking a lot about this conversation. Many questions about how to help her process this understanding. We don’t talk about the death part of CF around her and if we have it is so coded with big words that aren’t used regularly around her.  

Today I asked myself, how do I prepare my child for death? Morbid-trust me-but Ezzy is like me, she has to process things. When families have lost their CF children, it took them by surprise. That cold that turned to pneumonia that turned to lung exasperation to death left them without a chance to fully say good bye or prepare their child for that moment. I don’t want that for Ezzy. I want her to long for her inheritance, a life filled with no more sickness, constant joy, but more importantly an eternity with our King Jesus. I want her to face the hardships with a faith that James 1 talks about it. I want her to take the trials she is asked to go through and turn them into testimonies of His glory. I want her to live courageously for Christ, sharing her faith with her friends and anyone she meets. I want her to not waste a moment on earth and believe she is truly an ambassador of His Kingdom.

That’s a lot of wants and dreams for my little girl. Yet today God reminded me again, “Sarah do you remember weeping next to her in the NICU, begging me to let you see her first steps, go to kindergarten, get her heartbroken, graduate from highschool, get married…that list Sarah, I AM fulfilling it”  

So as we are finding a way to breathe a sigh of relief in the health of our newest baby, we are also reserving our Joy to ensure Ezzy knows when she is frustrated or mad at her lonely life of being now the only 1 of 7 Harneys to have CF that she will come and talk to us. I am praying that God will give me wisdom, holy discerning wisdom to impart to a child who has reasoned in her mind she is going on before us. I am praying that Richard and I, along with the help of any of you who want to speak truth into her life, will renew a hope of Heaven in her black and white little world.  

If you see us and bump into us and mention the results of the testing we ask that you come and rejoice with us but with reservation and an awareness of a hurt little heart that is trying to figure out why she has been set apart yet again. We know this baby has come to be another needed support crew member in Ezzy’s life. Another cheerleader to help with therapies and medications, another family member to take a shift at the hospital, another person to surround her when she has to be isolated because of CF. This baby was created for a purpose, just like their big sister had been.

  
Ezrah May, I am thinking about and praising God for the nurse that came and stood over your bed they day we found out you were going to be going home, shocking the medical community with your miraculous healing after surgery. As she held some charts in one hand and gently stroked your head with her finger, she looked up at me with a warm smile, eyes filled with wisdom from her own health battle she went through with God’s hand over her life and she said “Ezrah May, I have a verse for you…For I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord, they are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a FUTURE and HOPE” Jeremiah 29:11. That day baby girl, a stranger and yet a sister in Christ spoke God’s truth and promise over you that day. May we both hold on to the many ways God has made sure to let you know you were created for this life.

He stands in the doorframe of our front door, carhart jeans on, camo hat, extra tuff boots, a walkie talkie in hand and is pleading with me to just let him play 20 more minutes and then he will go and do his chores. His need to fill his lungs with the fresh air outdoors, run through the woods chasing Zombies or bad guys, while feeding that very smart brain of his makes me cave as I let out a sigh and say “ok, but you better answer home base when I call” as I hear the door slam shut mid-sentence…

These are our days, his needs verses how to set and uphold limits is now our new struggle. I hadn’t expected the last few months to be as challenging as they have been. My quiet, always respectful and rule following child has turned into a high functioning, autonomous, fast thinking, and at times mouthy child.It can’t be easy being the oldest, naturally he gets leaned on more, the expectations and rules are first tried out on him and then slowly adapted as his parents figure out this whole parenting thing. He is quick to see the injustice and is finding a voice that lacks any understanding or better yet a sense to stand down when he hears something he doesn’t likeI spend my days wondering if I am not being fair. Am I too hard on him? Does he think we ask to much of him? Is he frustrated we are having another baby? Will he grow out of this phase soon? 

 After hearing some news his little heart didn’t want to hear, a dear friend and sunday school volunteer sent him a letter in the mail, encouraging him, telling him God loves him and trust him to handle this situation. In that moment I was yet again reminded how he needs more people, solid adults, people not his parents to help raise him up.  

I am so very thankful for our friend Joel who doesn’t find him to be an annoying little kid that follows him around like a puppy, but instead lets him tag along and do “men stuff”. Our friend Kevin is willingly helping coach his baseball team this year even though he doesn’t have kids of his own. The various ladies in church who cross his path in Sunday School have taken him under their wings and shower him with a genuine love that pours easily from their hearts.  

After doing a bible study a few months ago, I sat at my kitchen table, worship music in the background, sleeping babies in their rooms and me alone staring at the paper that showed me I only have 10 more years left with him before he sets off into the big world. 10 yrs may seem like a long time to some of you, but to me it seems like a blip in my journey being his momma. 10 yrs ago I was a few months away from marrying my highschool sweetheart, I was finishing my junior year in college, I honestly didn’t even have an inkling of a child in my future. I was focused, going to be a career woman who if she was blessed with children would hand them off each day and go pursue my passion in the workforce…

  
Only in God’s perfect ways would I find myself 10 yrs later finding my biggest struggle to not be pioneering some new therapeutic intervention in the healthcare field, but instead figuring out how to raise a respectful young man, who thinks of other’s needs before his own and has a heart hungry to know who God is. 

 We began to see him struggle more and more as the day was approaching that he would yet again be left behind as the rest of his family left for medical appointments. His sisters and momma all had appointments and the trip would not be any fun, but instead all business. We asked him if he could handle staying back with his nana and explained that we are trying to save for our family trip we are planning, but could use that money to have him tag along on the medical trip. His mind quickly reasoned his answer and he decided staying back with his nana was worth it in the long run. It didn’t mean however he wouldn’t make snide comments or pout when the girls talked about leaving for Seattle. I decided throwing him an indoor soccer game for his birthday on Palm Sunday, a day we usually try and rest after church, had to happen for him to know we loved him. It was the perfect way to say goodbye to him and I saw the pure joy on his face as he played hard with his friends. 

 
When we called to say happy birthday to him since our medical trip was the week of his birthday, I know the worst time to plan it, it really was unavoidable, we heard him in the background respond to his nana saying “what family, I don’t have family” when she told him we were on the phone… 

 William Cayden Harney is quick witted, a fast thinker and incredible deep all at the same time. I feel for his friends, because I think sometimes they just don’t get his humor. He can be so grown up most of the time and then all of sudden slip and show us he is just a typical 2nd grader that is going to have outbursts, fight with his sisters and be selfish at times. Even though this year has been a big learning curve for his parents, we still sit in awe, when we realize 8 yrs ago God thought we could handle being parents. 

 Cayden has forever changed us, his little life drew us to God, made us reevaluate our ideals on careers and where we would grow roots. His presence made us grow together as a couple even when the nights and days seemed to blend together. With each sibling added to his family, I have seen him find a way to make room for them, to have a special unique bond with each sister, but also a different approach to how he communicates with them. I know he questions why he has so many sisters, but I am reaffirmed many times in my heart that he is just what their little hearts need. One of my biggest fears is that when 10 yrs comes to be our present life, we will all be unable to untangle our lives from him, that these days of figuring out how to survive his constant changing mood, will be days we long for when his absence is too hard to accept. 

 For now, I am thankful to say that my little man is 8 yrs old and God had a beautiful plan when he breathed life into this soul that finds ways to minister to us all even when he doesn’t even know it. Happy birthday Cayden 

“All these people earned a good reputation because of their faith, yet none of them received all that God had promised” – Hebrews 11:39

My soul has been stirring, it’s been restless in the moments that when I finally sit and respond to the swirling thoughts and emotions that seem to be my friend these last few weeks I am overwhelmed. I have learned in the few years that I have been writing this blog that when God is being persistent and pursuing me, in ways that keep pointing to writing, he is asking me to be obedient and I am disobeying the more I put it off. Someone reminded me last night, ” sometimes in our disobedience, God decides to change his plan and use someone else…”

I have been dragging my feet on this topic because it stills evokes so much deep sorrow, that gets laced with joy. The joy, it honestly can really upset me more then the sorrow, I want the right to be sad, mourn the unexpected, but God loves to promise “wipe away every tear”.

March 15, 2016 will mark the one year anniversary of Ken Teune’s death. There are times his absence is felt in such deep areas of the soul that you wonder how Faith still remains. Then there are days that it seems unreal, that he still isn’t gone, maybe it’s because the ripples of his kingdom work are consistent, or maybe it’s the subconscious trying to protect those tender moments that will only happen in memories now, no longer to be lived out with him.  Here is a card Ezzy wrote him shortly after he passed.

  
One of the most precious experiences I had shortly after his death was talking with another grieving soul. I was then told how a handful of us had received phone calls from Ken in the last week of his life here on earth. The commonality didn’t come in the fact we received the call, Ken spent a lot of time on the phone thanks to his many hats, it came in the form of the fact we ALL felt an urgency to answer his call. We all even in a brief moment, almost let it go to voice mail due to our busy schedules at the time, yet we all answered it, something drove us to push aside the current troubles and sit and talk…

  
I am going to be forever grateful for that Saturday afternoon chat. Standing in my room with the door closed in attempt to quiet my family’s noise. He requested prayer, he was nervous, maybe nervous isn’t a good word…he was all to aware of the real battlefield he was going into. I remember he sounded tired, his back had been bothering him, but he was ever determined to go and stand with other brothers and sisters for a cause dear to his heart.

One of the things he loved to tell me in the rare raw moments of standing or sitting across from him with warm hot tears gracing my face thanks to the weight of my current trial at the time was ” Sarah, God is not done with you yet”.
 Oh, that simple phrase could make me so upset at times, I wanted him to say “yeah, this is crappy, you have every right to be mad” yet he was always quick to bring me back to why God had called me to the battlefield. Ken had a great gift to be able to have long range view, he kept his eyes on the champion.

  
I had a few people come to me after he passed and either read his blog or attended his celebration of life. I was given testimonies of reconciliation or healing that came out of the tragedy of loosing him. The stark reality that he was gone and that today was all they had, no promise of tomorrow, ignited them to lean into the difficult.

When I look back on this last year without him, I still see people trying to navigate in the pain of loosing their friend, I see some have found healing and have moved on, I see some at times afraid to mention his name. Can I say one thing, don’t be afraid to say something, I believe his legacy is meant to be carried by us all. Even if our encounters weren’t at a soul shattering level, if you crossed paths with him, he impacted you. Don’t be afraid to talk about him, share memories, write a letter to his wife, daughter and son, telling them the impact he had on you.

His passing has made me step in or just lean lightly into hard things. If I was honest, he was a crutch for me at times. When I was in a hard spot, it was so much easier to go to him and talk it out rather then wait on the Lord to speak. I haven’t found a mentor with that responsibility, but I really believe I am not suppose to. This year of having to seek, wait, and know I have heard the sovereign Lord give direction is exactly where Ken wanted me. He stayed close by because the big stuff I was facing could have wounded me, leaving me with a heart unwilling to let grace and mercy in. In this year, crazy as it seems I have learned what a Good Father HE is, even if he took my friend/mentor/running coach/elder/brother in Christ/father figure.

When I think about the changes that have taken place on the worship team, something he was just as passionate about as me, I KNOW he would be rejoicing here with us. A group of people United in stepping up to the battlefield and choose to armor up joyfully is what he wanted. A team that saw one another as brothers and sisters was what he knew needed to happen if we were to make waves here on earth. Yes, there are times when certain songs are played that his signature bass line is missed and felt by those of us who played with him each week. Loosing Ken called forth a desire and necessity within our team to practice what we asked people to proclaim each service. Heaven has become tangible…what a gift to keep running the race set before us.

His celebration of life reflected who he was. It was packed, the church building he had served and helped many years before being asked to help plant a church on the south side of the island, held many grieving and yes rejoicing souls. Some heard the salvation message for the first time, might have been taken aback at the worship service that took place, but Ken was unashamed of his Heavenly Father, his citizenship to a home built on streets of Gold, with pearly gates was evident.

It makes my heart heavy that the memories are fading, it is inevitable, I realize, but the fear that his legacy is fading is driving me here, today as I write this. I have been blessed at times a conversation we had will hit me out of nowhere, when I am driving in the side ways rain and a song lyric brings it fresh to mind that it feels as thought it was yesterday.

There has been so much affirmation of his faith, his spiritual heritage as I have watched his family still serve, stay close to God through it all. It challenges me to the core, makes me question if I would be able to say “God you are enough”. His legacy is being carried through them, it’s beautiful, it’s in those moments that you see if God is asking you to walk through something he won’t leave you on your own, he stays with you, even carrying you if you need it.

If I were to go back to that little phrase that could at times get under my skin…”God isn’t done with you yet”, I am brought back to his promise “and I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns” – Philippians 1:6.

Some of you are struggling with this truth, you might feel as though your time is done, you have no value on earth, some might be in complete denial that you too are a citizen of heaven, just a foreigner on earth. You are a prized possession of our Abba Father. If you were to have one more chance to talk to Ken, what would you have said? I think about this a lot, knowing the spectrum was always big, but always found its resting place, safely back into the fact that we have been called to “eagerly await Christ’s return”.

  
As we being to enter another year without our brother who HAS claimed his inheritance, who is resting in the garden of Eden, who is worshipping in the throne room that has flashes of lightening, who is sitting with the heroes of Faith, growing in the realization his faith has still room to grow, and who is there, watching and waiting for YOU to join him…how would you live your day? God isn’t done with him, Ken is living out his eternity, earth was just a few small chapters of his life, really. Just as that verse says in Hebrews, we won’t receive all that is promised until we stand face to face with our maker. Friend, I can call you friend, because if you are reading this we share something close to our hearts…so friend can you say this now “(your name) God is not done with me yet”

  
Can I encourage you to do something? I think it would be amazing to honor him, to keep that legacy alive and well. Will you take a moment to write a letter to his family, a memory, something, anything, send a picture if you have one. I will gladly gather them, I won’t open or read them. Just send them labeled this way and I will deliver them to his family hopefully in time for his one year anniversary of his passing.
Sarah Harney 

c/o Ken Teune

3827 Alaska Ave

Ketchikan, Alaska 99901

It’s been almost a month since I ran the Rock n Roll 1/2 marathon in Phoenix. Since returning from AZ, I have been trying my hardest to get back into the swing of things with very little success. To be honest, the trip flew by and I think that I fought a little of a funk coming back to dreary Ketchikan…

Our very first morning we woke to the sun shinning on our faces. Normally I would have been more then annoyed to be woken up early on my vacation. Yet I found myself almost hop out of bed and head to the shower to start my first day back in the place of the eternal sun. Cayden and I had stayed up way too late the night before. Hard to avoid when you arrive at 10:30 at night. We had family to hug, stories to tell, energy to expel after spending our entire day in the seatac airport.  

  We explored every inch of the airport during our 7 hour lay over. After a few hours of sinking in happened to the little man, I finally heard his heart.   

 
We had the biggest surprise planned for him. Kept it for months from him and successfully pulled it off. He found out the moment I was getting ready to board the ferry that an invite to join me was on the table. At first he just stood there, tears starting to form and a scowl on his face. Not the reaction we had hoped for. I later found out that he thought we were playing on his weakness. His little piggy bank has been claimed to hold the money it will take to one day buy a ticket to his birth place. He truly believed we were being mean and pulling his leg, knowing he would go in a heart beat. When he realized it was true, he was then crushed because he didn’t see a bag packed for him. Apparently the two big suitcases I had didn’t seem out of the norm. I found in the hours that went by that his gratitude could not be contained and he didn’t let much time pass throughout our day without saying thank you.

We started the first part of our trip at the phoenix zoo, walking in shorts and sunglasses. Every now and then I would get the scent of one of the indigenous plants and would immediately feel like I was home. 

  The next surprise entailed taking Cayden to the Nike store. My cousin is an employee there and we took him shopping!!! The kid had so much fun there, I loved watching him feel like the center of the world, something the oldest of 4 rarely feels, especially when you have a “sick” child. We ended our day having dinner with his Godfather Jonny and his family. Cayden loved on his son, Joe Jack and it was decided yet again, that our families need to live by one another soon! 

 
I was a ball of nerves the night before the 1/2 marathon race. I knew that how I trained for this race was going to impact my outcome. I was hesitant to sign up, knowing that I was going to be logging all my miles on a tredmill, something I had never done before. All my other 1/2s have been in the late spring and summer, allowing for outdoor miles to be my main option. I somehow found my rhythm during my training. I found that my body actually longed for the early morning runs, pounding out miles, and listening to music and surprising myself with the miles I achieved in what seemed like a short time. I never had felt stronger, I had found a balance in caloric intake too and could tell I was refueling the right way. 

  I laid out my gear the night before the race, with a happy heart seeing all the items that were given to me as I run for my daughter. Shoe tags, personalized clothing, water bottle, all given to me by friends who know why I run. I asked my aunt to say an extra prayer for me and re-read the messages some friends had sent me to assure me that I had it in me to run the race strong and well.
We woke in darkness, the 3 of us running the 1/2 were wide eyed and unable to stand in place. Our poor support group was still wiping crusties from their eyes and wrapped up in blankets and stumbled their way to the car. I will admit, we showed up a tad early, not really knowing how bad traffic would be. But we laughed and talked and watched all the other early runners in their costumes or lack of clothing! Mind you I was FREEZING. The desert is cold in the winter during the night and early morning hours. I was so grateful I had my northface fleece. When the time came, my aunt and I searched out the prayer group that was offered to the runners. It was just what my heart needed. The person leading the prayer reminded us there were people running, who had big trials and burdens heavy on their hearts. To not be afraid to reach out and help them, to remember that we don’t know their stories and they might need our help. Thank you Team 413. 

  Anyone of my fellow 1/2 marathon runners, check out their site and see if they are at one of your upcoming races! http://www.Team413.org

The moment came and we were soon smashed together with all the other 18,000 runners. The endorphins were flowing and I hugged my aunt and friend and thanked them for joining my cause and running for a little girl who doesn’t yet know the commitment it takes to train and compete in a 1/2. After looking through photos of the race I found one in competitors magazine of us at the startline, you get bonus points if you can find us! 

 
My aunt had told me the day before that the race was taking donations for the homeless population. Anything a runner decided to strip off, would be donated to a shelter. I had no problem shedding my running shirt knowing it was going to a good cause. 

 
The first few miles I focused on my breathing, my stride, I paid close attention to how I was feeling as I watched each mile pass. I was steady, the most steady I have ever been on a race. I didn’t fly off the start line like I have in the past and found that my splits were either spot on or just a few seconds different.

I had something on my heart that I knew I was going to be going to God on. I have approached each race with something to go to God with. Knowing he will have my full attention for 2 hours, makes these races more special. My first two races I needed to hear him speak in regards to Ezzy, especially when she was in the hospital unexpectedly for the 2nd race. The 3rd one I needed to hear him speak on my mentor’s death. This race I needed to hear him speak to what I am suppose to be training for next. Spiritually and physically. 

 
After every race, Ken, my mentor, would come to me and ask “what are you training for next?”. He believed that a runner without a plan would not stay in optimum health and shape. So he was always encouraging me to set goals, even if they were a few months away or far down the road, to have goals. I asked God to set my play list on pandora. Knowing that he has done this many times during long runs when my heart was heavy with burdens.

I soon started to quiet my heart, I had laid out what was on it and handed it over to God, trusting He would meet me on the desert road…

Songs came and went. Soon as I began to strip off every distracting thought and emotion I was pulled into the lyrics of the songs. He was guiding my heart.

The heat was a little intense and I had quickly regretted not training with a fuel belt. I found myself in need of veering to the side every 2 miles to grab a sip on the run. I was frustrated at the lack of planning on my part, but wouldn’t allow pride to stop me from refueling my body that was in need of hydration. Towards the end of mile 8, I saw the big hill coming up, I was feeling a little shaky and not clear headed. I caught a glimpse of the the refueling option they were handing out. I cringed and told myself I was not going to drink the glyukos shot. Then as if I didn’t have control of my body, I found myself veering to the side again and sipping the stuff I was certain would make me puke. Apparently my subconscious knew how badly I needed the sugar and it literally tasted like heaven! My speed began to pick back up to my normal pace and before I knew it I was at mile 11. I saw one last water station and decided, why not? I had stopped at all the other ones, either drinking or dumping water on my head. I soon found out after a quick sip that I had been handed warm freaking beer…

I was SO mad and told my stomach to calm down and hold it together. 

When I crossed the finish line I knew exactly what I was training for next. I had a smile from ear to ear and felt so much peace. I have never ran feeling like I was carried the whole way. This race, this day, it felt as though my feet never touched the ground. I was carried the whole way.
The song that spoke to my heart the most said “beautiful life, inside, living, moving, breathing. So let hope arise. God knew what He was doing when He gave beautiful, beautiful life” 

 
I didn’t know that when I signed up for the race I was going to find myself pregnant a few weeks before race day. I was still nursing Ya’el and felt like crap after each session, unaware two souls were fighting for nourishment from me on top of my training schedule. I quietly went to God over my fears and wondered if I should pull myself from the race. 
After seeing beautiful life, moving, living inside of me at the ultrasound and the doctor’s go ahead, I boarded the plane nervous to run a 1/2 marathon.
I had to go back to why I was running, it wasn’t for the Personal record that I had slaved to train for and achieved, just to find my time start to increase and no strength to fight the fatigue. Then as the sickness set in, I wondered if I was going to be able to handle it. I remembered how Ken told me and encouraged me to keep running during my pregnancy with Ya’el, reminding me that his partner in the T2T 1/2 marathon was 5 months pregnant. He helped me realize I didn’t have to give up my running when carrying life.

I held back on race day, gave myself a new time goal and told myself I would take it easy. Crossing the finish line knowing, feeling, and believing that God carried two souls across the finish line was all that I needed in the mass of people who had other feelings of accomplishment pulsing through their veins.

“what am I training for next?” I am training for the race that God has called me to run. I have found myself, yet again, a blessed recipient of beautiful life growing inside me. From the moment we found out about this baby, we have had so much PEACE. It does add more to our plates, especially as we have made plans and now need to readjust them. I am being humbled yet again, how the most important call in my life is being a mother. All the other stuff has to come after God and my family. He is asking me to put them in the forefront right now.

I spend my days tired and sick, no desire or will power to go and pound out miles in the early morning, zofran helps, but has annoying side effects. My overachieving womb is all to happy to show there is life growing and I can no longer hide it. I have even been approached and asked if I was pregnant, since my shape is yet again changing…at least I can take it as a compliment in a twisted way. Say hello to stretched abdomen muscles that have grown life 4 times…  

 
A fall down the stairs made for a very interesting night as I found myself already becoming clumsy. Thankfully the doctor checked me the next day and I saw the most precious little heart beating, with its chambers working hard at keeping life protected in my womb. Even though I have been labeled high risk due to my age, CF factor, # of births and pregnancies, I have found comfort in getting to see this little life change from a worm looking form to now arms legs and a profile with each ultrasound I have had! The night I fell, I spoke to God in the dead of night, I placed my hand on my belly and asked for his protection over the little soul that has already my unconditional love. Within seconds, the answer came in the form of the first time I felt beautiful life, inside, moving…praise God, who knows just what we need and meets us in ways we know it is Him answering our hearts cry.

The kids were for the most part excited when finding out they had to make room for another , one child expressed their true feelings, I shouldn’t have been surprised. As we tucked them into bed after telling them the secret, they all thanked God for the new baby and Cayden said “God, thank you for trusting me with another sibling, for thinking I am ready for a baby, even if I don’t think I am”. My belly was kissed that night and a tiny soul they never met was tethered to their hearts. 

So Ken, I am training for my next adventure in motherhood. I already pictured in my mind telling you about this baby, remembering your reaction with Ya’el. I found comfort in telling your wife, knowing that I was going to get the same reaction. Most of all I know that in the moments that I might allow fear to creep in, you would have been quick to remind me that every life God has given our family has a purpose. You would have pointed out how much Ezzy has called me to a deeper faith, how being a mother is a massive ministry, how important it is to raise Kingdom kids, just like you and your wife successfully did. I wish we could have gotten that reality TV show of our family going for you, even more so now as life is beginning to get crazy around here.

The mornings start with the cold crips air that bites my warm body that has crawled out of bed while the house is still holding 5 souls soundly sleeping. Some would say I am crazy, others say I border a slight addiction, and others know and understand why I am chasing after this dream. 

 Even though I have come to the conclusion that it does somewhat take someone who borders insanity to train for a 1/2 marathon in the Alaskan winter, I have to also say it has been such an interesting experience. Sure pounding out miles on the only treadmill out of 5 that overlooks the pool and not a brick wall put a sense of urgency in me as I feel my body cry out to stay in the warm down comforter, next to my human heater. Yet even though the logical side of my brain that is ever efficient at 4:45 am tells me one thing, my heart gently lingers on the face of a little soul that changed our lives 6 years ago and why I am training for another 1/2 marathon.

I find it no coincidence that my online bible study group I am part of is doing an advent study that speaks to the parts of my soul that I thought didn’t need a healing touch from my abba father. Everyday I feel as though the author wrote this study, out of complete obedience to our King Jesus, because he knew this spiritually tired momma need a word from him as she enters another year, waking and facing a life she still struggles to accept. One verse I have read during this study is “yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end” Ecclesiastes 3:11.

As many of you know, I have shared this month is a healthy balance between grief and joy. My husband has many times said my photographic memory is not a gift to be thankful for and in this instance I have to agree. I thought that this year would be different. Being in a different home that hasn’t seen the battles that we lived the last 6 yrs would bring new birth to happy memories. It is when I am putting laundry away, laying a baby down for a nap, making dinner, sitting down to watch a movie that I have the sideshow began to play. Sometimes I pull out the popcorn in a moment of weakness.
One memory I can’t shake took place late in the night. A husband working hard to provide, a momma of a busy almost 2 yr old and newly diagnosed sick baby are sitting on the couch. Wrapped up in a blanket, watching Grey’s Anatomy (fyi-i no longer watch that trashy soap opera or subject my poor husband to it). The episode took a turn, too sensitive for hearts that had gaping wounds. We sat and wept, like really wept. The patient, a CF warrior dies after receiving a double lung transplant, early 20s young man. We went to bed, didn’t share any words with one another. The flood of tears that happened in the dark living room came from a well of words that didn’t need to be said outloud.

Those memories, the ones that haunt you, make you relive every detail, what you were wearing, eating, the smell in the air, the weather outside…yes, I remember all that, those are the ones that I want gone. I want my abba father to take and filter, to fill my heart and mind with memories of the many ways he has performed miracles for Ezrah May Harney.

It is the first week of Christmas break friends. Which means there is a nervous energy that is already driving my kids in a tizzy. It means that I find myself in the bathroom, hiding out and asking them to just let me have 5 minutes. I found myself getting really frustrated at a situation and let it completely ruin the rest of my day. After putting myself in time out, I was given a much needed attitude adjustment.

113

113 days Ezzy has been in school. I have gotten tons of calls, emails and texts. I have received word from the school when walking pneumonia hit the class next door. When a parent decided to bring a child in who had just been puking that morning… 

 Ezzy May is still standing, clean healthy lungs, and all with amazement by those who help advocate and prepped to see a very sick kid this semester of school, especially her parents. I find out from teachers, school staff and friends’ parents that she has a big brother who watches over her and makes sure she is safe too. Her brother, who she shares a room with got a lung infection over thanksgiving break. We readied ourselves, fearful of what could lie ahead for our family in the busy holiday season.

The hospitalization in May was quite frankly a slap in the face. It was a curve ball that left a bruise and concussion. It has altered our thinking. We approach things differently now. Now that we know when she gets sick, really sick, its sudden, like 24 hrs. It means 14+ days in a hospital, unable to leave, go to the cafeteria, see other people, it is a hole. It means going under to get a PICC line, it means hours and hours of therapy. It means the family is separated and left single parenting in equally difficult environments. 

 A lasting impact has been the psychological health of our little fighter. She has always been strong, determined, and so tough. But when she came home, an innocence of life had been taken away at the age of 5. Don’t get me wrong, she never has had a life view of unicorns that fly over rainbows and princesses that grow up marrying princes. Fighting a disease that sets you apart doesn’t allow that magical world. Ezzy came back guarded, jaded, with a chip on her shoulder. She has held me at arms length at times and quickly cut her emotions off to the rest of the family when she is unable to mentally and physically accept CF. Her battle became ever real that she is alone in the fight, she is the only one being asked to soldier up.   

 Those days have ebbed and flow, it can be weeks of calm seas, and then all of a sudden batten down the hatches. She is so practical, her life fits neatly in the lines, very little color and she doesn’t know anything else. Richard recently told me that I need to find a way to help her through that, that her coping resembles her mother’s way of bottling things up and putting them on a shelf. Her emotions are very sensitive and have found that one way she expresses her feelings without talking is drawing them out. I just stumbled on his picture she drew at her Nana’s house 

 What needs to happen for both of us, is we need to spend more time, resetting those bad painful memories with new ones. Wrap them up in the promises of God’s pursuing love for us. I am super determined to have the kids memorize a scripture each day of the week. Knowing that Ezzy’s photographic memory will soak them up. I am praying for discernment for which ones to give them, ones that will be her sword of truth when the world tries and fill her with lies. My advent study had me read Psalm 34:18 “the Lord is close to the broken hearted; He rescues those who spirits are crushed ” and this is one that both her and I need.

We look at her pictures of her birth every year around this time. Joy is woven in those pictures as we fight tears and adult emotions telling her the stories behind the pictures, trying to keep her away from them even though she has had to experience them in her life.
My advent bible study asked me one day “have you ever been witness of something profound from God? A miracle or a clearly divine affirmation of His goodness?”

Well, yes, her name is Ezrah May. I know most parents will call their children a miracle. But she really is. I remember looking out the dark windows in the NICU around midnight, talking with the surgeon, looking at the little beds filled with tiny humans, and hearing him tell us to prepare for a year of recovery. Richard and I never held one another closer then when we laid in bed away from our day old baby who was going to go under the knife and dance too closely to the other-side of life.

A van was provided for us to drive, friends flew in from a Christmas vacation to be at our side, beds at Ronald Mcdonald’s house were provided, dinners given by charity organizations eaten, faith believing hospital staff found themselves standing across from us sharing and realizing in that moment their steps were ordained by our abba father. Love offerings made. Family of friends I hadn’t seen since my childhood came to hold her to give us a break and provided my first taste of homemade chexmix. Intensive 7 hour surgery turned into a quick fix through a 3 hr surgery. A little family walked out the doors of Children’s Hospital leaving her medical team in complete amazement.

This has been Ezzy’s story though. It has absolutely been tainted, shaped and defined by hard times that required more strength then we thought was humanly possible. Then the lyrics of one of my favorite songs becomes true “like a hero that takes the stage when we’re on the edge of our seats saying it’s too late, well let me introduce to you grace grace Gods grace”. But that is how God works. Mary the mother of Jesus said “for nothing is impossible with God” (Luke 1:37) in response to the scariest thing that could happen to a young woman in that day . This has been proven time and time again in Ezzys story. Mary’s heart is one that I pray Ezzy will have, complete faith in the unknown, because her hero already won.

The days are run by the routines our busy family has adopted. It can be too fast pace at times if you ask me. But I also truly believe that all the places we have our family in our blessed and ordained by God. Good luck trying to get a hold of us at a convenient time, but we will typically respond within a few days! Living with the role of a CF support crew, is something that seems so innate at times. Her siblings know just when to step in and help her when she is struggling with the therapies or foods she can’t have or sick people she can’t be around. We don’t have to ask, they just do it. I still get caught off guard the days she tells me she is ready to go to Heaven. Nothing readies you for those statements. But she is tired, she has days when the fight is too big for a 6 yr old to fight. 

 
Ezzy may is 6 yrs old today. She thinks her brother is the coolest person she knows and loves to follow him and his friends around at school. You typically will find a ball cap on her head, knee holes in every flippin pair of pants because she doesn’t hold back, chips all in. She knows some worship songs better then me and will give me her critique after services. Ya’el is the best secret weapon when she is in a bad mood. Kyre will ALWAYS go and get her anything she needs when doing her countless therapies, Ezzy knows she can count on her. Nana is her safe place to snuggle into when she just needs to feel like a little kid. She knows her daddy can only be so tough with her and has found his Achilles heel. Me, she comes to when she needs to say something hard, something too adult to feel at her age, but she does because she knows that I love her and won’t brush it aside. She dreams of being the sugar plum fairy still, loved being a toy bunny under the nutcracker tree, cant wait for that one day her parents might forget and let her stay the night at a friends, and is beyond excited for indoor soccer to start next month. Ask her to draw you something and you will not believe what appears on the paper!   

 
Happy birthday miracle baby, praying that God fills this new year full of memories to replace the ones that have caused walls to be built, for our abba father to keep showing us that “God when he pleases, can make the worst of places (or pain for us) to serve the best of purposes” as my advent study states. Baby girl, may your love for writing scripture never end, your voice continue to be raised for our King Jesus, and your feet be firmly planted as you walk the journey that God has trusted you with. Fight on warrior, pray incessantly, and may God give you moments to just be a normal 6 yr old girl this year!  

“momma, can I pray for you?”
After a recent bout of sudden sickness that knocked me on my always moving feet, I started to really acknowledge the little prayer warrior that is growing up before my eyes…

Kyre Grace a.k.a. Gracie poo loves talking to Jesus. She many times will ask for double prayers at night time which isn’t motivated by the normal stall bedtime routine. Her heart genuinely longs to talk to Jesus, someone that she can’t physically see or touch yet when there is worship music on you can guarantee she is singing along, and better yet dancing to .

I often wonder what it must have been like for the girls as they grew in my tummy during my years in music ministry. Did the vibrations from my guitar rattle their developing ears, make their skinny little legs desire to move along to each note as it was being played for our Abba father? What was it like to all of a sudden experience loud music and hear their momma belt out songs of praise every Sunday?

  
My hope is that it all mattered, it impacted the way they try and meet the desire to worship our Savior.

Gracie loves to lay hands on you when praying, she asks Jesus to heal many people. She will start to pray as soon as the family is gathered around the table for our family meals. Good luck trying to take over family prayer time, she will always take the lead. I have even heard her ask the darkness to go away…

“momma, I want to go see…”

If you have made an impression on this little one’s heart, then she will ask to go and see you. If she knows that you are on the agenda to visit then she will run and squeal and pick out her best outfit and will look in the mirror and say “perfect”…humility at its finest.

There have been times when she will specifically ask for someone randomly and won’t relent. In the past, I didn’t put weight to the desires of the 3 yr old’s social time. Then an event took place a month ago. We had received some scary news that a family friend was in an accident. “Lucky” is a term most would use, “divine intervention” is one this family will use. The news came at night time, kids were already tucked in bed. I called Richard to the living room, broke the news and we stopped, held hands and prayed over this family. With heavy hearts we went to bed and hoped to hear some good news. Midmorning, Kyre out of nowhere asked to see her little friend, not knowing he was in the hospital. She has quite a few friends she gets to see regularly, but she only requested this one friend and didn’t like hearing no. Richard and I did not talk about the accident AT ALL around the kids that morning, I know that God had placed this child on her heart.

NOW, after not acting on this sooner, I am convicted to stop what I am doing when a request or question is made about someone by her and listen to see if her un-jaded discernment is kicking in.

“Ya’el, NO ma’am!”

I honestly questioned if Kyre was ever going to recover from being replaced. Out of all of my kids, I still don’t have one that needs me more then her. I honestly wondered if she was going to be able to love Ya’el and not hold her birth against her. It was soon apparent that we actually needed to watch Gracie around Ya’el because she thinks she is the second momma to her. Since the two of them share a room now that we bought our home, their friendship is growing. Many mornings we find Ya’el buried in books due to mommy or daddy not coming and getting them soon enough. When night time comes and we say goodnight, some nights Ya’el disagrees with lights out. You will hear Kyre try to comfort her and tell her “it’s ok baby” and then when that doesn’t work “Ya’el No ma’am”, just to find it quiet shortly after the firm command is given.

  
“momma, I am going to be four in Se-lattle”

We prepared Gracie too soon for this trip. After two recent trips that left her on the other-side of the island waving goodbye to momma, I assured her she would be going on the next trip. Well, I said that a few months ago and ANY mention of birthday or Seattle, ends with her telling EVERYONE she is going to be four in Se-lattle. Persistence runs deep in this child. Unlike her two other siblings that fall into the perfectionist category and struggle making mistakes like their momma, this one will keep working at something until she gets it right. Thank goodness she got this trait from her dad! Even though nothing special is taking place on our trip this week other than doctor appointments, she is just so excited she isn’t going to be left behind. Our plan is to take her to Yeti Yogurt so she can have Dairy free ice-cream and pick all her own toppings. That is going to be best part of this trip, seeing her eyes light up and be able to eat ice-cream that she can have!

  
“momma” 

“yes gracie”

“I love you”

Kyre’s passion is like a fire. God is teaching me this. I know that each one of my kids won’t respond the same way, techniques will have to vary with each of them, I can’t put them in a box. I will admit, I do this. I will find a tip, trick, process that is successful and then become completely frustrated when the other one doesn’t reciprocate. Well, Kyre can be described as a fire. Really. We were telling a pregnancy story to a friend, about my ability to handle spicy foods that I found bland, while my husband sat across the table sweating and drinking glasses of milk. Immediately our friend said with assurance “that was with Kyre wasn’t it”.
God wants me to see that the fire he has put inside her is tended in a way that makes sure the flames won’t erupt and consume the kindling needed to keep it going. He also doesn’t want me to disregard it and take momentary heat as a sign that I can just walk away and not look after it.

Does this make sense?

I was recently convicted during some quiet time in the house that I have been living this analogy with Kyre. I have said in past blogs that she is just like her daddy. I still stand by that, but I am having to humble myself and realize she is becoming more and more like me. We both crave solitude. It rejuvenates us, we come out of intentional quiet time and we have a bounce in our steps and can pour into those around us. One day after checking off the final thing on my list of to dos, I realized that Kyre and I had barely interacted that day and it was naptime. We had rushed the older ones off to school, I was powering through laundry, cleaning the house and working on worship. I felt a tug in my heart. Conviction laced with a little condemnation. It became apparent that here are two independent souls living under the same roof, spending our days in our own heads.

  
Richard will come home from lunch and hear the broadway show that is coming from the playroom as she acts out and sings whatever is going on in her head. I won’t forget the first time he heard this. He asked, “is it like this all the time?” I laughed and told him,” yup!”

I am still trying to figure out the right way to approach this new revelation. I know that I can’t walk away from her and just think the fire is going to keep burning without me adding to it. So now I am going to God and trusting the Holy Spirit to tell me when I am banking on a strength in her ability to not need me interacting 24/7. I need him to show me how to foster that strength, ability to rest in quiet, to not fill time and space with empty things, to not need others to get through the day. BUT I need to be careful that I am attainable to her when she needs interaction and not brush her aside either.

“she just hugged me”

I lose track of how many times I get told this. I have watched her walk over to another table at McDonalds (don’t judge, my dad loves treating the grandkids there) and hug the elderly person in the chair. Not a side hug with a pat on the back, a real hug. You know, arms wrapped tight and you will hear a grunt as she does it. Then her little angelic face lights up as she looks up and smiles at the stranger. Don’t get me wrong, this makes me uncomfortable at times, thankfully it has never been inappropriate. I watch the older lady melt in her arms, her expression changing from pure shock to utter joy… I want to believe a little healing takes place.
I watched her do this at a funeral, march right up and hug a family member in the middle of the service, at the exact moment they needed it. I was kindly assured that she was doing what God called her to do after talking to the person.

She wrapped around the legs of the VERY quiet and at times grumpy old neighbor we had for 6 yrs. We were saying a goodbye in a sense and after the initial shock wore off I watched his shoulders relax, a smile I have never seen grace his face and a gentle pat on her head.

November 12, 2011 seems like so long ago. I am not struggling with time passing, I have, since the moment of her conception been learning a lot about myself. Her life was a gift that I still can’t explain or give enough justice, even when I am sitting here writing about her. She entered the world on a cold winter day. I found peace as the snow began to fall and was able to bundle her up in a white bear bunting suit my dear friend had sent to welcome her to the world. We held her close, breathed in her brand new life smell. Giggled at her strawberry blonde hair and couldn’t believe God had snuck her in to our plans.

  
4 yrs ago, Kyrene Grace Harney entered the world, entered our hearts and entered into a place that needed a child that isn’t afraid to pray boldly, who leans into the ones God presses on her heart, who has looked past herself and has loved her siblings in ways that amaze us, who won’t neglect those in need of Jesus’s love and is willing to be the catalyst and more importantly who is continually teaching me what HIS grace means.

  
Happy birthday Gracie Poo, I praise God for the little lady you are becoming and for the sweet little soul you have been created to have. I pray that I will keep that fire burning brightly for our Abba father and that I will make sure I find ways to daily connect with you in a way your quiet little soul craves. 

The cold crisp air, hand made fall decorations, my sad bald little maple tree in the front yard, northface fleece jacket and the insanely busy schedule all point to the fact that I am entering one of the busiest seasons. Since one of my many hats has the title worship leader, this time of year is when it is OK to listen to Christmas music as you plan for advent sunday services coming up soon. I do so only with my headphones and somewhere I can sing along quietly so I don’t disrupt the rest of the family that is trying to take one holiday at a time. We somehow managed to squeeze pumpkin carving in just 3 nights before Halloween. I was ready to scrap the whole event, but my husband, would not relent. Even though we disagree on the level of participation on said day, I am grateful we did it. I watched baby girl scoop all the guts back into bother’s pumpkin, watched tears stream down my perfectionist child and amazed my 3 yr old with my “talent” of drawing doc mcstuffin on her pumpkin and sat back and realized that I needed a moment, even if it was a rushed one, sitting on the floor with my family and soak up the joy that was written on the 5 yr olds face.

What is it with our fear or inability to be still?!? We know this is a problem of the ages, one that didn’t just happen in the last few generations, since one of the 10 commandments God gave to the Israelites was to “remember the sabbath and keep it holy”. God literally had to make a law that required his people to REST.

I am part a of a bible study group with a few women, there are 4 different churches represented each time we meet…Revival takes place each time hearts come together and break bread while digesting the daily bread God has given us. We are doing a study called “Beautiful Mess” based on the movie “Moms night out”. It is amazing, convicting, eye opening and many times relieving to know that I am not the only one with thoughts, feelings, questions and things that only God’s word can answer. One thing is has been pointing out is owning the gift of motherhood. I have found some great advice and tips to help get me to a place that is constantly leaning on the holy spirit to guide my days. Yet, I have been perplexed with the fact that some of those tips are hard to apply to a large family. I kind of laugh when I say that because I don’t feel like we are large, it feels normal, but when I look outside of us, I realize we are…

Cayden just started basketball, against his own wishes a few wks ago. The poor kid cannot handle change and is horrible at trying new things. After dragging him to the gym in the early mornings with me to a basketball camp, he decided he wasn’t going to play. The camp consists of kids all older then him. When he had to tryout for his division for the city league, I was able to witness first hand the skills he developed in those early mornings. Best part he ended up on a team with his buddies. 

Ezzy and Kyre are both in ballet and decided to tryout again this year for the nutcracker. Now making our Saturdays consists around chauffeuring little girls with tight buns, pink tights and personality soaring out of each twirl, jump or expressive move their body makes. 4 hours of ballet is on the schedule E.V.E.R.Y. single Saturday until December.

Richard is chomping at the bit to get out and hunt. Like every year he feels the pressure most alaskan men do, stock the freezer. Even if we don’t get a deer this year, we are hopeful we might get some geese or duck and atleast make some of his amazing jerky.  He  is spending his free time watching all the taxidermy videos he can fit in.   Even did his own squirrel mount recently…my only request is to leave brains out of my fridge and freezer 😒

I just recently got back from my second conference this year. It at times feels like the things God is calling me to each day are too much. I find myself overwhelmed. I am totally in retreat mode right now. My haven is my home. The place I can listen to worship music all day, grab my Bible and read a verse when my heart stumbles or just get lost in his presence as he meets me without all the demands and distractions I feel. I am having to train myself to not freak out when I see the clock ticking away and my to do list not budging. As my aunt told me last night in a text, its in the busiest seasons that allows God to do his work, IF I let him.

This season I find myself leading a bible study M-F with 14 other women. As I have mentioned in past blogs I am part of an amazing organization called “hellomornings”. Thanks to my former pastor’s DIL I found out about them. After a year and half of just being a participant I heard God loud and clear, after I removed the things plugging my ears, that it was time to step into a new role. It has absolutely added more work to my already full plate, but no matter what, I always find time in the day to study and be prepared each day. Help comes in the form of the holy spirit teaching me to let go of the things that don’t really matter. Did you know that God doesn’t determine my worth as a mother and wife in the estate of my home? I am slowly learning this. Help also comes in the form of a supportive spouse who sends me off to my room after a late dinner or when kids are tucked in bed and tells me he will be patiently waiting for me to finish and join him for the latest episode of “Arrow”.

It has been in the most recent study I am doing with hellomornings that I have been convicted on my obedience to the call, how I view Jesus and whether or not I am resting, better yet abiding in him. It is way too easy to fill my day up, naturally, since there are 6 of us with 11 loads of laundry to do a week, bread to be baked 2x a week, cookies baked every friday, feeding always hungry and growing bodies, (all in my new big kitchen!)

 hugs when life stinks, timeouts when mouths get the better of them, scripture to read when leading them to his truth that can be clouded by the world and little reminders that if the mate God designed me to be with isn’t my second priority in life, then things start to slip.

Where Richard and I stand with one another matters deeply not only to God, but to our home life, that is going to be soon opened up to others. This Sunday, Richard and I will be standing infront of our church body inviting people to come and join our small group. If you know about our family, you know the HUGE risk we are taking in doing this. Deep waters, deep deep waters is what God is calling us to. Recently the two times I read about Jesus walking on the water (1 peter and mark) I realized that Jesus used the storms to call the disciples into a place that revealed their innermost doubts and fears and gave them an opportunity to enact their faith. This is what is happening.

My heart can at times start to pound, I can begin to run through the lists of things that could come and enter our home, its in those moments that I can make a choice: to either worry or worship (thank you Worship Leader Conf ’15 for teaching me this gem).

Folks, do you realize that it is the first week of November?!

That means that Ezzy has been going to school since the last week of August, for the last 70 days. We have heard and watched kids get sick, cringed and almost cried in the quick release that happens when I say goodbye on the school playground. We have received phone calls, texts and fb msgs informing us sick kids were going to be going to school. Thanks to her amazing teacher, she delicately moves her around to try and limit contact with sick kids. My instinct was to pull her and wait with each notification of a sick kid going to school. God wouldn’t let me. I would run to him after failing and leaning on my own understanding, he was and is always there waiting to guide me. Each time God said “trust me”.

Trust me – trust me that I watch over her – trust me that I am her rock and fortress – trust me that I have written her days – trust me that I am calling you to a new season. One that will give him glory. 

Lately God has been showing me the areas that I have not acknowledged his hand moving in mine or my family’s lives. It can be found in the most awkward place, like the treadmill at the gym, where I know he is calling me to lift my hands in praise to him…yeah, I am that crazy person at the gym you want to avoid.

So right now I am choosing to worship him over my worries. I am loving how my “caught by jesus” study asks us to write down our lists each day and then hand them over to jesus and invite him to sit with us as we read the word. It is changing my outlook on life. You should try it, write out the things weighing you down and then asks Jesus to speak to those things. Then worship/praise/thank him for what he has done. Can’t find anything, ASK him and he will show you what he has been up too!!

As we enter this season with our family pulled in many different directions I am ever grateful He is driving the boat and we are all learning in our own ways to TRUST him. I am even more grateful that as I have been resting in my home, prioritizing my to do lists, that I as I make more time for him and less time for me, I walk away fulfilled and the things that have to get done manage to always get done. Not by my strength, by his alone.

So Jesus, I praise you for your protection over our little miracle that was the most perfect gift you gave us to learn about your love for us. I praise you for her health. I praise you for the deep waters of faith and trust you are calling the Harneys into, we thank you for the home you have blessed us with, one that allows for your vision of your bride growing and learning about your plans for our lives to happen in – Amen

Want to pray for us?
We could use prayers of protection as we start this new ministry, prayers that our marriage withstands the attacks that will come, prayers we keep asking him to oversee our to do lists and a selfish request, prayers that I find the time to train and have fun while training for my 3rd 1/2 marathon this year, hello phoenix, I am coming your way!!!!!