https://youtu.be/2TTd2FmYr0g

Did you hit play on the above link? If you haven’t, please do so. It will make sense as you read my ponderings.

Ok, I am assuming that you have gone back and pushed play since I so kindly asked you to do so, so now I will continue.

It was late one evening, Richard and I were at the tail end of our nightly ritual. Hulu had been well loved and we were nearing the point that our exhausted minds and bodies were about to wave the white flag. I got up, thanks to the commercial break. BTW anyone under the age of 30 has NO clue what an actual commercial break is, am I right? I recall having to spend a minimum of 5-6 minutes while growing up, watching countless sets of commercial breaks for one measly episode of ER or American Idol. To top it off, it was a cartoon commercial. I really dislike cartoons, very few actually hold my attention.

I don’t know if it was the song that caught my attention, but something did. I found myself sit back down (I am sure Richard was trying to figure out what on earth his wife was doing). I watched all the way through and at the end I turned to Richard and said “that was my mom…I don’t know how she did it…sudden singleness, school, bills, loneliness”

Unable to allow this ridiculous commercial leave my mind, here I am writing about it. But I think that it has been following my heart and mind, like a stalker, because of what I have to share. I am sharing early because I am running another 1/2 marathon this weekend.

Mother’s Day is on it’s way. Less then 2 days to be exact. I have heard whisperings from my darlings’ little mouths and even heard a child inform my husband about the looming deadline for gifts to be done. I am patiently awaiting shutterfly to deliver my own contribution to this holiday.

There are so many different directions we can take on Mother’s day. We can honor a mom’s unconditional love, heart, care, gentleness, comfort, her ability to know where every lost item is in the house, even though it doesn’t belong to her, her ability to hold multiple family members’ calendars together, the endless life lesson talks with naughty children (only after she has come out of her own timeout) or we could talk about all the things she does to serve each individual in her family, based off of their own unique needs.

But I can’t this year. Maybe it’s the season I am in myself. I think that is why that commercial had me all overwhelmed with emotions.

This year I want to talk about a mom’s grit.

I was once told I had some grit, which is defined as “passion and perseverance over the long haul” (according to psychologist and researcher Angela Duckworth).

How many of you mother’s could raise your hand right now if I asked you “how many of you feel motherhood is NOT what you thought it would be?”

Now you would have to understand, if I came to a group of women (something that would be incredibly intimidating to me) I would be hoping that I would find open transparency. Because I myself would only ask that question because my soul would be craving for some honest dialogue.

What if I were to take it farther and ask you “what is the greatest struggle you are facing in this season of motherhood”.

I have been incredibly blessed to have some lifegiving conversations with mothers in the last 6 months. Waters parted, children were either not around or I found myself in the twilight zone and was able to converse in FULL sentences that were not interrupted every 2 minutes while my children played quietly.

You know what I have discovered?

Every single mom has GRIT.

Age, seasons of life, number of kids, husband or not, career, etc. All those things develop grit within us.

I have been reading about Jochabed. She was the mother of Moses in the bible. You can find her brief story at the beginning of Exodus 2. Some would think that a woman who only had 11 verses written about her would have little significance, heck her name isn’t even mentioned in the telling of her story. But I was intrigued by her. Here was a mother, who had 2 children and found herself pregnant during a time where Pharaoh had a decree to murder ALL Hebrew baby boys.

Her whole pregnancy was spent, I imagine in pure grief. She had no clue if she was going to be able to raise her child or if her newborn would be murdered the moment the first breath was taken and the gender was revealed.

Her 3rd baby came with a death sentence. Thanks to some brave midwives, she delivered a baby boy and was able to hide him for 3 mos. When she could no longer hide him (um I am still wondering how she kept him quiet for 3 mos). She developed a plan to hide him in a basket. Her next plan was to place him in the Nile River.

This is where the story gets a little wonky for me. I can quickly find myself making judgements about her plan. Create a woven basket, cover it in tar and float my baby down the river?!? What was this lady thinking?

If I am honest, I have done this before, I have judged another mom’s plan to address the current hardship she is facing. Yet if you were to look at decisions I have made, many could go “yeah, that Sarah Harney, she is a little cooky”

Even though I sidetracked with her plan to save her baby. I was compelled to look at this mom. To acknowledge her grit. She was faced with a devastating situation. Her child had a death warrant. There would be no way she could keep it from others. Can you imagine if some embittered mother in her camp found out that her child was spared by midwives, when hers was murdered?

Jochabed hadn’t lost hope. She was resourceful. She fought for her child even though everything was stacked against her.

All I know is that in this season of mothering, I feel like a failure, more than I feel like I am doing a substandard job. The days that seem to come and go faster then I have a chance to digest them are filled with children who stretch me to my limits. They are growing, they are finding out who they are in this world, medical needs can take up the emotional and mental space I have left, I wonder if they feel loved more than I want to.

Jochabed’s baby gets saved by Pharaoh’s daughter who requests for a Hebrew woman to nurse and care for her newfound baby in the river until he is weaned (which meant around 3 yrs of age). Jochabed is paid to care for her baby.

Jochabed’s grit allowed her to raise her baby that should have been killed. Yes she didn’t get to have him past the age of 3, she didn’t get to watch him grow and celebrate birthdays and milestones with him, BUT she got to love and care for him more then her human heart could have hoped for in her current situation.

Why did I just waste 5-10 minutes of your time retelling you a story from the Bible?

Because I really believe I am suppose to encourage you mommas.

There are so many things you are facing in your life right now, honestly a today for a fact, something came crashing at your feet…right? There are fears and anxieties that seem to consume your waking and sleeping moments, hello 2 am worry sessions. Some of you are putting your flag up on a stick and can’t even say its a white flag because its all stained and tattered, just like your life. There are situations that you are standing face to face with and you are wondering how you are going to survive them.

But mommas. I want you to pause and see what you have. Even with all the things faced against you. You are still standing. You are showing signs of sanity, if not your family would have had you commited. You are taking a moment for yourself right now and ignoring the to do list. You are surrendering your children and their issues to God, yes, even your grown children you are continually placing in God’s hands. You are finding another way even though the massive detour you are on looks like a dead in.

“Passion and perseverance over the long haul”.

Whatever your situation is, I want to say thank you for finding a way to pick yourself back up. Thank you for not giving up when it seems impossible. Thank you for raising children who won’t expect others to be perfect and guarded, instead crave for real people, because you have shown them transparency. Thank you for making this world a better place and choosing life when we live in a society that believes in genocide as a woman’s right. Thank you for always pouring out, even when you feel empty, the world needs more selfless people. Thank you for paving the way for other mothers who are looking for a champion to follow. Thank you for placing your HOPE in the lord and trusting that He is the author of your story, especially on the hard days.

Because you, you my friend, have some GRIT.

Happy MOTHER’S day 💐

Thank you to my own mother Barbara, who found her own GRIT and could have been the main character of that commercial. Love you.

Somehow I managed to not plan for today, it’s not the first time I have done this. Mainly because this time frame in the year seems to be at the height of insanity and it is never attended to in the manner I would have loved to devote to. Yet, I am asking myself, better yet chastising myself to get better at this next time.

He doesn’t like cards, doesn’t care for unwanted gifts and definitely doesn’t care for filler gifts. A life of being the sole financial provider for a constantly growing family the last 11 yrs has made it impossible to buy things for him. If it’s a necessity, its worked within the budget, it is discussed with the financial advisor (me) and then it purchased. Buying for himself rarely happens and so it always makes this day the hardest for his family. What do you get a man that has embodied sacrificial love so well? He would give you the shirt off his back if you came to him and said, “hey man, I really need your shirt because…”

Thanks to the big change in my life, going back to work, I have found the balancing act even harder. He is met with a wife that is struggling in learning how to care for a home and family while meeting the deadlines, workloads, and expectations that come with her new job.

I dropped the ball. Nothing was laid out for him this morning, something he has done for me over the years, no heartfelt little hands drew cards, no dinner plans to look forward to (the man loves to eat) thanks to both of us working tonight.

Today has been like any other day.

I wasn’t even sure I was going to write something. Honestly I have phone calls that need to be made now that I have the baby down for a power nap before we go and get siblings from school here in an hour. But as I was wiping the goo off the counters that I didn’t get to before heading to the office this morning a list started to form in my head.

It’s not wrapped in a bow, it hasn’t been purchased from a store, but every single bit of it is true.

35 years ago, God breathed life into this man that we get to call hubby and daddy

William Richard Harney, here are the 35 things I love and am thankful for:

1. You call me beautiful when I first wake up, when you come home from work or when we have been separated for a bit

2. You always make sure to let me pick the 2 plates we are going to share at restaurants

3. You make sure I have clean sheets to come home to whenever I travel

4. Breakfast is made every morning for me

5. The dreaded nighttime routine has been your jam since Cayden was first weaned 9 yrs ago

6. When I am taking a moment to myself, while you man the circus we call children, you always say “take your time”

7. You deal with the pukers when they hit our home, knowing I CAN.NOT. do it

8. Dirty diapers have never been an issue for you

9. You support me and my need to run, even if it means saturday mornings don’t start until I get my miles in

10. When I catch you staring at me when we are in a crowded room

11. Your willingness to coach and not give up on the uncoachable kids

12. Your ability to fix almost anything that has broken in our house

13. When you hold our daughters and whisper in their ears and they giggle

14. How you care for my mom

15. How you are intentional with my nephew

16. How you LOVE my friends and never make me feel like I have to choose between you or them

17. Your level head when I am spinning like a top

18. The grace you have given over the phone at work when I have called in frantics for the 100th time over some disaster the kids (electrical fire), me (grease fire), lily (bear attack), Candy or the chickens created

19. Your willingness to do the dishes after dinner

20. Your desire to never put out my fire, but instead flame it and show me my voice matters

21. Your adventurous spirit and desire to try something new, since I love routine

22. Your heart to build men up within the church and your desire to be a disciple

23. Your love for christian rap

24. Your bow ties

25. Your silver hair – its sexy

26. How you put us first in everything thing that you do

27. Your willingness to play board/card games against the women in my family knowing you will always loose

28. Your tender heart, the tears you shed when I can’t, your transparency with feelings

29. The opportunities you let our son learn to be a man, when his mom isn’t ready for it

30. How you handled our son when he was exposed to indecency from another kid

31. The advocate you are for your daughter and the countless phone calls you have made to ensure her continued healthcare coverage

32. How you cared for me during the labor of each baby

33. Your ability to forgive and forget

34. Your playfulness, even if I find it annoying half the time, someone needs to see the world different then the black and white that I see

35. How you love us with every part of your soul

Happy birthday my love, I pray that we can show you through our words and actions that we are so blessed to have you as our protector, provider, husband and father.

It’s hard to believe that a whole month has passed since we returned from the most amazing family vacation. Years of foregoing eating out, buying the unnecessaries and always tucking money away, even if it was only 20 bucks is how we pulled it off. A few years ago, someone on FB decided to post an easy savings plan.

I to be honest, never really knew how to do it, when overwhelmed I tend to avoid and not dig in. So that is what I did for years. How could a constantly growing family, every other year, save for a tropical destination on one steady income. My side jobs never provided anything substantial to our income. The FB post seemed fool proof, so that is what I used. That simple savings plan covered the cost of our condo rental, our suburban rental and some groceries for the 2 weeks we were on the island of Kauai. The next step I had to tackle was tickets. Thanks to alaska airlines, I paid everything I could with our CC. I paid utilities, gas, groceries, fuel for our tank, walmart, etc. Anytime there was a chance for the bonus miles, you bet I signed us up. After 5 years of saving miles, we were beyond blessed to “purchase” 5 miles tickets and with the help of the companion fare, we covered the remaining 2 tickets needed to get our family there.

We didn’t leave with any disillusionment of detours that we would find ourselves on. In fact, the worrier aka always waiting for the shoe to drop, person was watching for it. When we found ourselves stumbling into bed at midnight after a long drive to our condo from the airport, it was then that I discovered our first detour. In the chaos of traveling with 8 people and ALL our luggage (car seats, strollers, pack and play, etc) we managed to leave our cooler at the airport. Not just any cooler, but the cooler with Ezzy’s $3k medicine in it that has to be special ordered and takes days to get anywhere not on the mainland of the US. I was crushed, angry and went to bed unable to sleep. Morning came and with great urgency we found ourselves back at the airport pounding on the door of the office that refused to answer any calls for the last hour and a half. There I found our prized cooler and there I uttered my first Mahalo with tears down my face.

When Ezzy’s vest broke it didn’t derail me. Murphy’s law right. Also everything comes in 3s I have found. So we switched to manual therapy and called her amazing vest company and they started working on sending a new one out. But what was the 3rd incident?

2nd degree sunburn on day 3 of our 14 day trip.

We found out we had a faulty bottle of sunscreen and everyone who used it got the color of tomato on their skin. Ezzy was the worst. Blisters on her nose and her entire back, fire red. No longer able to do manual therapy and the weekend approaching, meant that we were going to go even longer without airway clearance.

It was then that I was left with nothing, but to ask my village to pray for Ezzy, that God would protect her lungs and the vest would show up sooner than we anticipated. We spent 3 days waiting for the vest, 3 days of hearing her get gunky and 3 days of me surrendering to God. Honestly, it is where He always wants me. Never reliant on myself, but reliant on the fact that He is her provider, He is in control.

The vest arrived on Kauai day 6 of our vacation and we became the proud new owners of her 3rd machine.

Everyone told us that it was going to rain when we got to Kauai. Richard and I kept watching the forecast, days leading up to our trip and were so defeated when we saw the predicted weather. Staying on the north shore, meant that we were hammered the hardest. Thanks to my adventurous, find another way husband. We loaded up everyday and made the trek to the other side of the island and chased the sunshine. We didn’t spend a single day without sun, even though the locals kept telling us “this is the worst it has been in years”.

Our days began around 6:15, thanks to little bodies that arose with the sun and thankfully due to Nana, we were able to lay in bed and await until true chaos hit after breakfast.

Richard made sure to make a hot breakfast on the days I would sneak away for a morning run.

Due to the lengthy drive we had to take each day, we learned to pack for a whole day away from our kitchen and were so thankful Kauai has a costco.

The long drives weren’t too bad. We got to know the WHOLE island really well. We saw amazing scenery. The kids learned to keep themselves busy without the use of electronics and with good old conversation, games and drawing. We only busted out the ipad for a movie when everyone was too tired to use inside voices or manners. What I enjoyed the most is how the LOUD car would go silent the moment we pushed play on one of the many sermon podcasts we listened too. You want to talk about church trained kids. As soon as the preacher started, they zipped their lips and the whole energy in the car died down. As soon as the sermon ended, within seconds they were back to themselves. It was crazy.

Deep down I had hoped that this trip would reconnect us all. Regardless of how hard we try to make time for each other, because of the various things we do, we are always going here and there. My prayer was that we would return closely knitted, that any wears and tears that happened over the years would mend. Especially with my oldest kids. They have seen alot of change. Careers for both mom and dad, new siblings, new callings. There have been days I wondered if they even liked each other. Towards the end of the trip, Richard caught a glimpse of the mending. Ezzy was sitting alone on a log and Cayden ran up behind her, gave her a huge hug and pulled her to the ground. They laid there laughing and Richard said, that made the whole trip worth it. The kids learned to be each other’s friends Ezzy told me she whispered to Cayden one day and said “you are my favorite part of this trip”, he did roll her eyes at her, but she knew he heard her and it was received. Yes they fought, but they also played so much with each other. They had evening races in the huge backyard. They had evening swimming competitions. They shared shaved ice with each other. They learned about each other in ways that only Hawaii provided. Cayden helped Ezzy learn how to swim and cheered her on as she swam the length of the pool.

Hawaii brought a sense of identity back to the Harneys. All the to dos that are stacked high were gone. They didn’t have stressed out parents trying to squeeze in one more thing before our minds and bodies gave out. They weren’t being shuttled from one practice or after school event to the other. We just got to be. Be with one another.

As ANY woman would tell you, I had an idea of vacation body in mind. I believed in my hearts of hearts that I would be disciplined, that I would push myself hard and that I would reach my goal of what I thought was enough. Life had other plans. So I didn’t pack the too small for me bikini that I had planned to wear months and months ago when I got it. I packed my one piece with shame along with the shorts I wore the summer after having Veil. I was going to have to go as Sarah, mother of 5 and not hungry/over worked out Sarah.

Much to my surprise, every single beach I went to had the same crowd of women. What was that crowd? It was a crowd of every single shape and size of women in 2 pieces. They didn’t hide behind one piece bathing suits, they didn’t drown themselves in hot cover ups. NO, they walked, with smiles on their faces, deep in conversations with their man smiling back at them and their beauty. They didn’t shift or quickly cover up when people walked by, but instead drank in the laughter of their children swarming around them, the very children that gave them their stretch marks and cushion.

I then realized that I was allowing my altered view of myself dictate how I enjoyed and embraced this trip and honestly season of life. I went to Richard, admitted my shame and asked him to take me to find a 2 piece bathing suit. That man needed no bribing and I found myself with a new suit that I felt I could be me and never put back the dreaded one piece on my body.

I didn’t know that Hawaii would bring wholeness to my shattered body image. I didn’t know that Hawaii would help me love my body. Something I have NEVER done in the 33 years I have walked this earth. Even at my smallest weight, I was miserable and completely a slave to what I had to do to be that small. Hawaii helped me own this amazing body that grew and cradled 5 amazing little souls that call me mommy.

Hawaii.

My heart is saddened to watch the news reports of the massive flooding taking place in Kauai. The north shore got hit the hardest and we saw our favorite breakfast burrito place surrounded by water. There are many who have lost their homes.

But I also remain completely confident that when the Harney’s return to Kauai, we will see it back to normal. There is something so enduring and iconic about Kauai. The people are not what you would expect. They don’t meet you with Las at the airport, they don’t go out of their way to make you feel welcome, it’s not a tourist destination. In fact they don’t care for you at all. The first week locals were short with us. They were less than helpful. Then after seeing us past the week mark and seeing us at regular places, they began to become friendly, the gardner would say hi in the mornings, the grocery store clerk would ask how our adventures were going.

Kauai was the perfect place for us to unplug. To not get caught up in countless tours, city life to explore in the evenings or crowded beaches to fight for a sliver a sand. Instead, we found ourselves many times having miles of sand to pick from and now and then someone who wanted to comment on the size of our family. Kauai’s spirit is so chill yet so strong. They don’t have to rush to do anything. The to do list is probably: sun, friends, family, food. They know their priorities and they don’t compromise.

Today Ya’el curled up on my lap and said “I miss Hawaii”.

Me too Boo, me too.

#prayforKauai

Dear Cayden,

For quite a few years I have felt honored to write “about you” and not “to you” on your birthday each year. It was always a joy to walk down memory lane as I recalled the year I had spent with you and all the things you taught me while we learned together, this whole mother and son thing.

I loved it more then anything, because it gave others a chance to see you in the light that I see you. Every mother loves her son, her children, in ways that no other person on the earth can love them. I am not an exception to the rule, but I will say that my love for you is really hard to define.

Because the word love doesn’t seem adequate when I think about you. So this year, instead of writing to recall the memories, I want to change it all and I want to speak a blessing over you as you enter the new world of double digits.

Cayden, you my son are going to move mountains. Just this very morning, driving back from our morning run, the run that you smoked me in, I asked you your “why” for training for your 2nd half marathon. I had anticipated to have some serious heart felt reason to why you want to abuse your body and push it limits that most sane adults will never attempt to do.

Instead as we drove down one of the many hills I begin to despise during training season, you showed me another side of you. “Because I want to better myself as a runner…because I want to be faster then…” was your reply.

I paused, quickly formulated my response and told you “son, you have to have a good reason to want to run, one that is not laced with pride. Pride will lead you to places that won’t ever satisfy”. I then told you that Ken told me that every good runner finds their why and doesn’t let go of it, because without a why, a runner eventually decides to find other things to do.

I didn’t want us to pass this opportunity to discuss one of the things you are going to face, over and over again, because of the very man you are growing into. Manhood, mini-manhood for you has been one INTENSE year for this momma of yours.

You have proven more times then I want to admit that you are in fact a man in training and a you aren’t afraid of your calling. The near electrical fire that happened this summer, showed me that you had a more level head then your stressed out mother. I was met with your cool calm demeanor and a quick action plan to my slightly hysterical reaction.

Your quick thinking had you grab your sisters and get them outside to safety while I was running for the fire extinguisher. On that day, you showed me that you were and are ready for your call.

So many times when we butt heads, its not over another round on the game console or whether or not you are allowed to stay out just a few minutes later. Instead its over things like allowing you to stay up and watch a comedian with us, because you can understand each joke that is geared for adults. Your sarcasim and quick wit can be the thing that makes my head go 360 when those thoughts rush down your head and out of your mouth before you had the chance to determine if the risks were worth it.

Your mouth…

Will you remember with laughter or distain the little white bar of soap that has teeth marks in it when you have a mouthy son or daughter of your own?

As you have learned the ups and downs of making and keeping friends in the entitled generation you are growing up in, I have never spent more time praying for you. You see the wrongs, you don’t bend and you can’t comprehend why the world always is forcing their beliefs on you and they can’t accept yours. Justice fighter is a role that you valiantly own.

I recently heard you inform your sister to go and change her clothes, after you told her “reach up and touch your toes, if anything shows go change your clothes”. She told you that you weren’t her boss, which you replied, “go change your clothes, nobody is going to see that”. I hesitated. I wondered, am I suppose to get involved?

But then, when I saw her in a changed outfit, she wan’t sulking, she wasn’t pissed off, instead she was laughing with you in the kitchen as she was packing her lunch. She knew in her 8 year old wisdom that she had a brother who cared about her value and how the world sees and receives her.

It was on our recent trip to Hawaii that I got to see the pieces of you that I have wondered if the world in its darkness had began to chip away at.

You see, I only get to see you for an hour or two in the morning, most school afternoons are tied up with sports or a commitment your dad and I are carrying, which leaves us with a few hours in the evenings with you. You spend the bulk of the day away from me. Which means, alot of the times, I see the hard unfilterd moments, knowing, because of assurance from your teachers that you are the star pupil, helper and friend to everyone you come in contact with.

We were visiting some friends who were in Kauai as well and we had been enjoying their beautiful beach lawn. You and your sisters made quick friends with the other traveling kids and your parents were lost in conversation with our friends. It was then asked, “where is boo (Ya’el)”. Your dad, with Veil in his arms quickly went one direction, Nana went another. But what happened next, still brings too many strong emotions to my heart.

I found myself in a nail biting race with you, the iced drink in hand on the hot day was all over the lawn and there you and I were in a dead sprint, barefoot feet on the pavement. You were the first to scoop up the screaming 3 year old that had concerned people trying to comfort from a safe distance. Even though in her fear and misplaced anger at you, she fought you off, you still held her until I was there. The wall of lost kids on Walmart’s wall has left a permanent awareness of the evil in the world for your heart.

You were you, protector, fighter, responder.

Cayden, you my son, are no longer a child. You don’t think like a child, you don’t reason like a child. I don’t know how to feel about it. I wonder if this broken world has robbed you too soon of things your little body and mind should be enjoying with some innoscence.

Your first counseling session with our family counselor exposed the very thing that we believed has been the root of your anger. Your inability to place trust in God, trust him with Ezzy and the cystic fibrosis, has left you feeling utimately responsible for her. That somewhere in your 9 years, you have carried her longevity of life as your own battle. Yes, you were angry when we didn’t devulge the whole truth of the meeting that day, but you came home and told me what you learned. How “it wasn’t your job” to keep her healthy.

It has been a year that I believe we are going to be able to look back with fond memories as we look through the endless photos I have taken, documenting your’s and your sister’s stories. We have had big moments that shaped our family, made us dig deeper into our faith, but also moments that have caused us to step aside and watch you grow into the man God created you to be so long ago.

William Cayden Harney, I pray that God in all his goodness will continue to be the loudest voice in your head. That the desire to do better, will not come from the world’s standards, but instead come from heaven above. I pray that as you continue to learn to be a friend, while still standing for what is right, that you will lead your peers to truth and not lead them astray, that you will never misuse the influence God has given you. I pray that your humor will be something that is not used as a shield for your emotions, but used when you see hurting people that need something to laugh about. I pray that as you care for the women in your life, that you will continue to learn to give them love and patience because you care about their hearts, more than you care about being in charge, that you will continue to sacrificial love in a way that your friends are compelled by.

Today you are 10 years old. Today you are leaving behind the single digits, the digits that are laced with boyhood, a naiveness of the world and instead entering the doubles where you are going to continue to develop a keen awareness of how things work.

Don’t forget that God called you to be his soldier, not the world’s. I know that you have many battles yet to face, but I believe that as long as you, along with the help from us, keep going back to God to be your general, you my son are going to change the world.

Happy birthday, my one and only son

I knew this day was coming. The month of March is laced with joy as we celebrate the birth of such an influential person in our family. Our first born child, the very soul that caused us to think of another life, other then our selfish selves, this is the month that he was born.

Yet this very month is interwoven with deep sadness, heavy regret, too many conversations that are left unfinished and most of all the all consuming weight that a deeply loved soul left this earth. March 15, 2015 Ken Teune claimed his heavenly reward.

Our family just came back from a 2 week vacation. It was something that we painfully saved for, for over 5 yrs. Giving up anything that could be labeled excess. pinching and saving for a tropical destination was our goal. I think that Ken would be so proud of me, saving and being accountable for our money to get 8 people to Hawai‘i was a huge task. His intense skill to be accountable, to know where and how his money was spent is something that has stayed with me all these years. In fact did you know that when a Christian organization made a public announcement that impacted their world view and what they deemed to be acceptable according to the Bible, he pulled out of supporting them? With some conviction as well as his burning desire to know the truth, he called them up and drilled the soul that answered. After he was assured that his money would be used to glorify the kingdom, he reinstated his monthly donation. Many of you who know him can’t help but smile knowing that Ken had the gumption to call this organization up and ask his list of questions. Ken was so thrifty with his 100 pack Bar S hotdogs and western family buns, because there was a good sale. Ken was thrifty with life in general.

Have you ever gone into Walmart and seen the “Dooms Day” emergency preparedness food? That man could not pass those up. One day, in my wondering I asked him, why he spent all that money on those scar tactics. Wouldn’t God, the one who watches over the sparrows, watch over him? I mean I really needed to understand. I thought maybe there was some memo he had gotten from God that somehow skipped me or could this solid man of faith actual have some fear? So yes, I asked. I was then told, “Sarah it’s our job as Christians to meet the needs of the poor and needy”. He challenged me and told me, if something were to go wrong in our constantly changing health of our country, providing food for the masses would be another way for Ken to feed souls, spiritually and physically. He told me, when crisis comes, people run to those of faith, because they know we are different, there is a peace they can’t comprehend. It was Ken’s hope that over a can of Mac and Cheese that had a shelf life of 24 years, that he would be able to offer them hope of a future that could only come from Christ. I am not sharing this so that you can laugh in mockery or scoff and what he did, but instead evaluate some choices. Ken was so meticulous, he didn’t leave out details and he never wasted a chance to use ANY opportunity to tell someone about Christ. ANY chance.

One of the many drives our family took to chase the sun, we pushed play on leadership podcasts or sermons from some of our favorite preachers. It was on one of the drives that we heard the term “genesis of leadership”. The speaker was talking about how leaders, if you were to sit down and talk about the start of their leadership journey, they would be able to identify the 3 most critical people that shaped them. These people where the ones that identified and believed in them, helped open doors for them and sowed leadership seeds in their lives.

Stupid silly emotions, the very things that Ken assured me to never be ashamed of, found me on the Kuhio Hwy. The speaker kept on going and I found myself in and out of important conversations that I had shared with Ken as we talked about the “hows and whys” of kingdom work.

When Ken met me, I was not where I am today. I had been asked to be a part of the worship team and served minimally my first two years. It wasn’t until a sudden change came, that I found myself serving in a completely different way. He walked side by side, sometimes ahead as I lost my focus or hope, but he never left me as I learned to lead in a joint leadership role with two other leaders. Iron sharpens Iron, he never let me off on the easy side when I wanted to jump ship because emotions, feelings or a person’s view of things challenged mine. Nope, lean in Sarah, fight for the kingdom. He was there to offer me the Worship Leader role in our church and continued to humbly lead me as I became his boss. In fact one Sunday when we disagreed with the tempo of the song he stopped and in front of everyone realized that he was suppose to be a team member not my boss and he changed his tune. Humbly.

Ken saw leadership potential in me. In fact he made sure to help sow those seeds. He encouraged and helped me to stay the course.

At the beginning of this year I found myself in another shift. I was offered the staffed position of being the Worship & Teaching leader at the church. I celebrated, something that I had worked for, survived many battles and experienced great joy in my life. But if I am honest, it didn’t feel like I could truly celebrate. Someone who believed in me from the very beginning, before I had done the time to prove my worth, was not there.

When someone leaves this earth, as time comes and goes, as major life changes take place, their absence is felt more then ever. Time makes memories fade, life and the ups and downs can make their absence be misplaced too.

As we drove and I got myself pulled together I finished the podcast and knew what I needed to do.

If you are reading this, then you clicked on the blog. You saw something pop up in your feed and saw his name. My hope is that you clicked it because of what you will do next.

It’s been 3 years, yet it wasn’t until we were sitting in a church on a vacation and hearing a organization present their cause that I remembered the conversation Ken and I had, about knowing how and where his money went. It wasn’t until we were driving that I remembered him telling me how critical it was for me to always choose freedom and not slavery when I am dealing with hard situations with my brothers and sisters in Christ. One of the preachers said, if you haven’t been offended in the church you are attending, you aren’t really attending. He said, it’s through relationships with others, as we grow, that we learn what Christ really died for, how we truly understand redemptive love. Ken preached that sermon to me many times, not just through words but through his life. I missed his high five that he would have given me or his check in phone calls that I would get, as he asked how my soul was doing or what battles I was facing. His absence is real as I embrace this next step in my leadership journey.

If today, you find yourself reading this, I want to ask that you will leave a memory of when Ken breathed into your life. Let us celebrate his life and encourage each other as we remember the Hebrews 11 man we all miss. I am sure his loved ones would love to read about how their dearly missed and loved husband and father impacted you.

Plant some seeds, you might be the person who makes a way for someone else as you share

“We have to address the lid, because if we don’t, it’s going to blow, if we address the lid, we can start working through the things that have been stuffed down”

As those words were said, as her eyes met mine with compassion, not condemnation. I immediately looked at the little girl, who sees the world different then other girls her age. She was quietly coloring, getting lost in what she was doing. I wondered “what does she think about this?”

It wasn’t until days later that I started seeing a change in her. If I had not been careful or responsive to the Lord, I could have missed the very small stride she was taking.

This last year has been intense. I feel like I am always saying that, “it’s been the hardest day of my life” or “this has been the biggest trial”. Yet if I were to look back at 2017 with Ezzy, all that I can say is I.N.T.E.N.S.E.

The day that I saw my breaking point will probably be one of the biggest momentous moments in parenting a child with a scary disease for me. The spiraling downfall that happens on 75% of the mornings was in full swing. Me, overwhelmed with the huge responsibility of getting 4 kids to school on time before the preschool doors were closed. Her, overwhelmed with the never changing to dos in the morning, nebulized medicine 1 & 2, vest, pills, bathroom break #2 and then finally getting to the to do list of a normal child without CF.

We collided.

In the weakest part of me, I parented in anger. I saw the color red. Which invoked the deepest “survival/fighter” instinct in her.

The siblings, stood in shock. Not a single word was uttered after we lashed out on each other. We exhausted the pent up frustrations of CF in our lives to one another.

The car door slammed and I couldn’t help but think “thank God I don’t have to see you till 3:30”.

Minutes after driving away, seeing her slowly walk to the playground, the still small voice that tried redirecting me a mere 15 mins ago, was no longer a whisper, but instead a heart wrenching firmness that came from Godly discipline.

I cried and cried. I found myself on the phone, telling the receptionist, “I don’t know what else to do, we need help, before we break her”

Why is there such shame is seeking out help, especially mental/emotional help? What happened next was such an act of grace.

I received a call, from someone I didn’t know. I was told “I believe I am suppose to meet you, but not in an office, but at a church…I believe you are an answer to my prayers”

As we sat across from a stranger, and two parents that have stuffed and stacked pain, fear, anger and only shared small pieces we could handle to others, unloaded. There we got real. There we took the lid off and didn’t leave anything back.

Ever since that first meeting. Ezzy has been blessed to have a safe place, a place, that she is asked by a trained professional, her daily dealings with CF. A relationship has began to form and a now a voice of reason and truth is able to help unpack the things she has stuffed down.

This year, watching her class go to swim lessons for two weeks about did her in. Her daily journal was filled with words about seeing their wet hair, hearing their stories of the pool or missing out on snacks that she didn’t get to eat while she was home with me.

Thanks to friends who loves at just the right time, Ezzy got to ride in the fire truck, no tagalong mom came. She was sent a care package of art/crafts and was taught how to make a blanket by a patient woman who loves her fiercely.

We talked about the hard stuff as we would drive her to school. She would tell me that it wasn’t fair, but what she finally was able to say, due to the counseling sessions, was that she doesn’t know how to handle it. How she wonders what it’s going to be like when she gets older. What other things will she miss out with her friends on.

I think when they are little the wonderings of adulthood are so heavily laced with an altered reality. Pain, hardships, never ending laundry, bills that show up monthly, hard work environments don’t enter their innocent minds. It’s all, Prince Charming or careers that are shiny and bright that take up the conversation.

When she shared with me, her new discovery of seeing the unknown to be forever impacted by CF, I realized she had lost yet another piece of childhood, that it was robbed.

I believe because of the gift this person has given us to counsel our family in their own personal time, to talk openly about faith, God, the broken world, it has given Ezzy a new perspective on what she can’t escape.

As I read her words on our thanksgiving table cloth, I realized it again, that God has protected her heart. That even when it has felt he is far away and he has not swooped down and picked her up when I thought it was the right time, he has been there laying the ground work for her.

There has been more releases of joy from her, more times in the last few months that I can remember. Like laugh out loud, no hand over the mouth or muffled giggle. It has been real and for everyone to get a ripple from.

I get little notes left for me. What seemed unrepairable, has begun to mend as we address our lids. There are more hugs given, there is a vulnerability to talk and not stuff with each other. As if we have forgotten our broken ways of not showing weakness and not letting people in.

I have seen the power in having a safe place to share your stuff and to be able to own it.

Because somehow, she has decided to own CF. Yes there still have been hard days, days where she just wants to be normal like her siblings and not have to be stuck to a machine. But those days have lessened. Instead she has put her energy into identifying that she has been given this life and she is going to find a way to not let CF ruin it.

After being denied the life changing med, her team has decided to run tests again to see if her body has healed and we can start it. We are patiently awaiting news anyway now and are hopeful that the answer will be yes. But if it’s not, we are all willing to address the lid and own our stuff through it.

Ezzy May,

Today you are 8! It’s crazy, because you have made me take mental pictures of your life and it seems impossible , because the doctors placed fear and doubt in my heart that shouldn’t have been held onto. I could be angry with them, but instead I am seeing how it has brought beauty. Because I have so many vivid memories of your childhood.

It wasn’t until you were asking your daddy last night about your birth story that I realized, 8 yrs is really long. My brain was in over drive recalling so many events. When you brought up the picture of me crying as I stood over you with all the wires, you looked me straight in the eyes. I believe you needed me to take a step of bravery and own that moment and not stuff it away and shut down. So I didn’t stuff, we talked about how scared I was. But then you quickly moved on to one of your favorite stories. The one that had the nursing staff on the Giraffe floor cheering and giving high fives over your first bowel movement.

Thank you for helping me work though my stuff. Thank you for modeling the healing that comes when we are willing to take the lid off and let the other things be addressed.

Thank you for helping me replace the sad memories with your laughter as you see them in the innocence of a child.

I pray this next year, as you are learning new tools to get you through the tough stuff that you keep your hope alive. That when the fears you have begun to dread about the unknown and what CF will do to your life, won’t define your days. Instead, that they will awaken the survival/ fighter mode that I have seen in you.

Ezzy girl, I love that you watch me. It’s not weird to me anymore, because I pray that as you see me own my junk, that you see I am unpacking it with our Heavenly Father, the wonderful counselor, and he is ready to help you too.

Ezrah May, means “a great discerning help”. I have watched you live these words this last year and am thankful that you are helping shape me into the woman/mother a God intended me to be.

Happy birthday my love, I think it’s pretty special God gave you the gift you have been asking for SNOW!

During a recent conversation I was asked where do I see myself in 5 yrs. It wasn’t just a simple question, it was being asked in reference to a bigger picture then I thought was on the table. The answer came quickly. Quite frankly I was shocked at my inner-self for saying what came next with such ownership as well as clarity. But after I replayed the conversation in my head (because let’s get real, that’s how I constantly operate) I knew what I had said was as true as it gets. There was no filter or preplanned response. I spoke from the heart.

Before I share what I said. I believe what took place in the waiting is what matters most in this little story.

By the way, to all of you who take the time, yes, TIME to read my ponderings. Thank you. It seems so small to write these words. For so long I wondered if blogging was really important. I journaled for me, the thought of sharing my innermost thoughts with the big wide world terrified me. “What will they think of me” or “how will this change the way they see me” or “man, she is a MESS”, taunted me more times then I want to admit. My greatest foe is my mind. Ha, there goes another rabbit trail. But seriously thank you. Your feedback, support and willingness to say “hey I see you and still like you” means a lot.

I believe I started to dream for my future the moment I realized that it wasn’t dependent on someone else. That I could pave the way and not wait around for Mr. perfect. I had planned to work in the medical field. I didn’t end up in the career I had hoped to, but still found my way, passionate as ever and willing to try to make an impact.

I had every intention to never let the 50s mentality of a “woman’s place” in the home be something I ever aspired to. Yet as I looked into the big deep black eyes of my miracle first born, I found immense grief at the thought of leaving him with someone else for 9 hours each work day. Through Gods design, I have yet to ever experience something my heart never wanted as I realized being a mom was what I was made to be. I have survived, treaded water, and yes, thrown the towel in more times then I could count. Tears, sobs, spilled milk, interrupted bathroom breaks, and nap time success being the measure of a good day has defined my identity in the work force for the last 9.75 years. I have fought resentment with my husband and his always growing PTO days or sick leave. I have envied…I am getting real with you, my friends who I run into at Safeway with their clean clothes, makeup, painted nails, holding a freshly brewed Starbucks. All while I stand there in yoga pants, a stretched out shirt, messy hair and more then one child wielding their power over me and my hopes of leaving the grocery store without being the train wreck everyone can’t take their eyes off.

When the call to ministry took place in my life. It came during a time that I couldn’t have felt more ill prepared or better yet equipped. I was 11wks away from having Kyrene. I had served in such a minimal role that I didn’t think or believe what I brought to the table could or would have an impact. I didn’t even see myself as a bandaid. I was the gauze or alcohol wipe that would only have mere seconds of use, not a chance of a few days of surviving the washing and fuzz that gathers around a few days old bandaid.

September 11,2011. I said, “here I am, God use me”.

Ever since that day I have experienced joy greater then my heart could contain and pain deeper then my heart thought it could mend. What no one wants to tell you when you are a new ministry worker is that the pain and attacks won’t come from those outside the flock, but instead those within. I faced my fair share of attacks. With that said, I absolutely had my part in them. My brokenness. My coping mechanisms or better yet my self preservation tactics kept me from truly knowing my enemy and I waged ware against humans and not against the very ruler of the dark world.

Many, many, many times I went to my mentor and said, “I don’t want this, let someone else do this”. Ken in his godly wisdom wouldn’t let me run. Run from the fear, pain and reality that if I claimed to be a child of a God that it meant that I needed to be pursuing a life of holiness, peace or love.

In the last 6 years I have witnessed restoration in ways that I never saw in my mind as I wondered what God was doing.

So flash forward to the recent conversation. Had I hoped it would take place sooner the later? Um, yes.

But it wasn’t until I filled out the application. Until my hand cramped from the 11 page document. When I pushed the packer back, with sweat dripping from my forehead and the heaviness on my heart that I realized I was not ready until that very moment. The thing that I had thought I was ready for, dreamt of, or suffered long as I awaited, was something that in my deepest need of redemptive love I would have messed up had it come on my time line.

You see, I was so wrapped up in the checklist of grace, that I convinced myself that if I faked it until I made it that eventually I would believe it. That somehow if I played the part, the hurts and memories would fade. But they never did.

As years went by. As more time was poured into the role, without earthly rewards, I found myself question my worth more and more. I needed affirmation…I needed to hear that I was important. I had in mind what it would take to make me feel valuable. Years went by, I didn’t receive what I needed. Not because I was undervalued. But because they very validation I needed, I was running to man and not God to give me.

It wasn’t until very recently that I sought out a person who had deeply wounded me. Who’s hurts against me I had carried, watered, loved, tended to. I prayed with every step as I walked towards them. The norm of running or deflecting when I saw their face was gone. Nope, not that day. I humbly approached them. Head tucked, tail between my legs. Every possible way of showing humility was given, I didn’t want even a hint of a fight to be wrongly perceived. I asked, “will you pray with me?”. That day. As two people filled with hurts to heavy to carry anymore, weights that were drug here and there, wrapped tightly around ankles and causing bleeding with each stride were broken. I prayed blessings over their life, marriage, family, their calling in the kingdom, the restoration between us that we have not seen, the power to believe that we are for each other. I released my hand off their shoulder, I looked right into their eyes, something I hadn’t done in years and thanked them.

That day I walked in the very identity that Christ came to the world to show me was and is mine.

I have allowed for far too long the grip of death that the enemy of our hearts brings as we lean on ourselves instead of going to the Wonderful Counselor, mighty God, everlasting Father, Prince of Peace brought when he entered the world.

This advent has a whole new meaning for me.

The little girl that could stare at Christmas lights as all the other lights were out, now sees the light in the darkness (Jesus), expels the shadows that have been there for too along, and leads me out of the darkness that wanted me to never seek or pursue restoration.

As the star was placed on our tree by my little caboose tonight it served as the hope of a savior that propelled wise men to pack up, journey a far distance to a lowly place. A small city that meant nothing to the world, to search for a child that the hope of the world awaited for.

Yes, for the next 20 days, I am choosing to seek and search for God in the hard stuff. But also rejoice as I see that he planned long ago for me to be victorious in things that I thought could never be redeemed.

I am excited to share with you all, that after 6 years of volunteering as the worship leader at my church. I will be staffed come January 1, 2018. I will also be managing the teaching ministry at our church and begin to preach more as it is needed. This last year of preaching and filling in has been a massive learning curve, but never more humbling and such a blessing. Feeding his sheep, those 3 words bring tears to my eyes as I embrace what I know God desired for me as he knit me in my mother’s womb. I will be working towards consecration and ordination as well, with the hope of being a licensed pastor once all my courses are completed.

Yes, as I drew my breath 33 yrs ago, God said “everyone, come and see, that’s my baby girl! Wait till you see what she does!”

She will find herself planning worship services and finding ways to usher my children into my throne room, preparing their hearts to hear my voice and trust and know I am speaking to them! She will endure, face trial after trial and she will learn where her source of hope comes from and choose to stay planted in me against it all.

I spent too long wandering, trying to find my worth and identity in things that could never fulfill. I detested and agonized over the waiting. I questioned and doubted if I really mattered. I allowed the enemy to tell me I was easily replaced and served no real purpose.

But now I see that I had to be in the waiting. I had to go through things that made me see that my hope is in Christ alone. I had to understand what crazy undeserved grace was before I could authentically give it. I couldn’t fake it till I made it.

I don’t know what season you are in, but let’s face it, if you are here on earth, you haven’t reached fulfillment, things, job promotions, money, friendships, toys, stuff never make it all ok. Am I right?

I want to encourage you this advent season to be intentional in pursuing the King. To try and find out what it means to have a Savior. He came for you, me and everyone walking and breathing on this earth. It’s crazy to think that all those years I was being pursued. Now that I see that, I am content in pursuing him. To actively see him in the mundane, the pain, the stress, the good, he is there. He has never left me.

“The Spirit of the LORD is upon me, for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free” Luke 4:18

Merry CHRISTmas my friends 🎄

“Momma, why does no one ever ask ‘where’s Kyre?’”

… (quick glance over to Richard) insert dagger straight to my heart.

“Kyre Grace, it’s because we don’t have to worry about you. You always stay close, you always know when it’s time to go. Ok baby?”

… “yeah” (turns her head to look out the window as the attended event starts to fade in the distance)

Kyrene Grace Harney is the typical middle child. She feels like she has to fight to be seen or heard. Her siblings demand and get way more attention from her parents then she does. I recently read an article on middle child syndrome:

“people tend to not notice they’re there. They end up feeling left out and forgotten. Parents tend to not notice their needs but focus on their dire emergencies only. Middle children seek love and happiness through friends and become social butterflies”

Just reading those words that describe my middle child, I felt sorrow, yet saw a strength that is being formed through the critical years of living in the shadows.
One day, I do plan to tell Kyre that she was the biggest best surprise that God had wrapped up in a bright shiny box for me. I know I won’t be afraid to tell her that I was fearful of having another sick baby and didn’t want another child to walk the hard, constantly evolving road of Cystic Fibrosis. I will see her pin point dimples in the corner of her smile as I tell her that God worked extra hard to knit her inside me as I grieved my dream of a big family, unaware of his big plan that would come when I least expected it.

Even though we found out her life would not come with the diagnosis that rattled and left her parents having to peel themselves off the floor of depression and grief each morning, nothing would prepare me for the role she would find in our family.

Mary Jaworski, who wrote Shadow Children, says:
“Parents overwhelmed by the draining daily demands of caring for a sick spouse or child unwillingly or inadvertently overlook the needs of the well children. The healthy children may end up feeling helpless, isolated and unable to cope with the anger, resentment, jealousy and fear and other powerful emotions that bubble up when a sibling, a parent or a beloved grandparent faces a life threatening disease. These are the shadow children and their numbers are growing as advancements in treatments help those with chronic and catastrophic illness live for years”

If I am honest, I fight for memories of Kyre in the tender years of infancy. The little things that I have carved space for with her siblings, seem to overwhelm the few I have of her. All I can think is that she came during such a scary time, Ezzy’s second hospitalization. Ezzy’s first lung infection. Ezzy’s second bowel obstruction. Yet I know that her little life is what kept me sane. I had little baby that only wanted me, only wanted my milk and only wanted to be held close at all times. She became the soul that would provide hours of playtime when Cayden would go to school and Ezzy had no one to play with since the school year always meant tons of colds, flu and other sicknesses. If I was too overwhelmed with therapies, cooking high fat meals, or just working through my own junk, Ezzy was there to watch all of Kyre’s firsts. Ezzy was almost 3 when Kyre was born. I watch Ya’el who is 3 now and her phenomenal memory and desires to interactively play with others, affirms that Kyre was sent to a little CF warrior that desperately needed somebody as we lived in our 4 walls, tucked away safely from the world.

With all that said, it has become a very present issue for us now as we see the years of growing up in Ezzy’s shadow is taking a toll on her. Because as time as gone on, Ezzy’s needs have become more time extensive, more detailed, more rigid. It never fails that when Kyre is in need, it is right in the middle of an important therapy or day to day battle of CF.

Having two little sisters has caused the feelings of neglect to well up and erupt at the most inopportune times as well.

Whether she looks ahead or behind, there are others fighting for the space that she has already given up on.

It was Kyre who said “I don’t know” after we asked her how she felt about Veil growing in my tummy. Kyrene had never been shy to show or say her true feelings.

After spending too many nights laying in bed worrying or early morning nursing sessions mulling over her. I recently had some time to see a very tender side of her that I believe is forming because of her life.

Our 14 yr old dog Lily, just passed away. It wasn’t sudden, yet it wasn’t immediately expected. We had honestly been praying a solution would happen for awhile. Her quality of life had gone down and high demands of her care was too much for a family of 7, who already have detailed care plans for a human. When both Richard and I woke and spoke over coffee and shared what had come to us in the morning hours, we knew her time was coming. We did our best to set aside time to show our children how we handle the looming possibility of loss. It meant more work to our week then we needed with the never ending stressors, but this dog was the first living creature we cared for in the early years of our relationship. It wasn’t Cayden who helped the most (the kid that teared up when we weren’t sure she would survive her bear attack this summer) instead it was Kyre Grace that provided a level of hospice care for our dying dog.

Kyre would be found right along side Daddy as they bathed Lily everyday, trying to keep the skin rot smell to a level I could handle. It would be Kyre that would dry her off, get a snack and rub her head when she would come home from school.

Maybe it’s because Kyre knows how it feels to be in need of love when it seems like there isn’t enough to share.

She recently told me that when they go to the library at school that she always gets books on animals while everyone else gets books on people. She rolled her eyes the other day when she told me a joint teacher that shares all the Harney kids, calls Kyre “Ezzy” all the time and she has to correct the teacher.

This year was her turn for a big party. We alternate every other year on a family or big party. So that way we don’t have 5 big parties a year. Richard and I had shared we were excited to see her in the setting of her friends. Not the tag along friends. Meaning the friends she gets to tag along with when they are playing with her siblings. These kids were HER friends. Each invited by her. Yes every single invite had a clause “if you are sick (cough/runny nose we ask you don’t attend). People said, we didn’t tell the kids we were coming until the drive here (because they were holding off, making sure their family was healthy and could help protect Ezzy).

A week out from the party she began the countdown on her own. She couldn’t sleep for several nights in a row, because the anticipation about something being about her was too much for her little soul to contain.

Today I watched my little girl float around the room from friend to friend. Hugs, laughter, dimple laced smile permanently engraved on her face was all that I could see. People had showed up for her, not anyone else.

It was today that I was shown that God has created Kyrene Grace to not be afraid of the shadow. Because it’s in the shadow that she will find others that need her strength and light. She will be able to comfort, offer love and friendship to those who feel forgotten or unloved. It’s in the shadow she takes in the whole picture. She watches, listens and sees there is more to every story. She recently told us verbatim what I had said to Richard when we thought she was eating breakfast, unaware of the conversation I was trying to say with hushed tones.

This intro to another article I found sums up Gracie:
“Children who have siblings with chronic illnesses or disabilities often find their lives are constantly interrupted by medical emergencies that trump regular kid cares like birthday parties and soccer games. These children learn at an early age to put another person’s needs first and are often better adjusted in the long run” (Siblings of Sick Children, Learn a Life Lesson Early. NPR 2010)

I know the design of our family is orchestrated by the one who has written Kyrene’s story. I also now, through the trials I have faced, he has always been faithful to bring me out of them alive and better for it. He will do the same for her.

God is up to something mighty in my child that at times does not feel like she is seen. He whispers to her, in her moments of sadness and heals what only he can, because I have seen her love and care for others when most wouldn’t.

Kyrene Grace, you are 6 yrs old today and even if it feels like the shadow seems too big, I pray that you will see that shadow is a protection God has given you and trusts that you will continue to have a responsive heart and eyes to those who need a tender soul.

Happy birthday my best biggest surprise

I have wanted to write this blog for awhile. But life, you know? I know that most of the mommy friends I spoke to this last month, we all shared the same sentiment. Going back to the school routine and schedule takes so much stinking time to adjust to. Not only was I facing a new routine that was against our whole summer motto of “we will get to that eventually”, but I also was asked to preach, which meant that I would be giving up my fringe hours to prepare, listen, and deliver a word for my church family. To top it off, the back to school crud came pounding on our family’s door, which took more out of us then I anticipated it would. Now that I survived yesterday and did what the Lord asked me to do, I am now free to write this fun memory ❤️ 

When our friends asked if we wanted to join them on a camping trip, we immediately said yes. We were broken in on our Memorial Day camping trip and felt like we were bordering veterans after 5 days at Orton Ranch in July. But when the realization of what the YES would entail, my anxious, overly cautious soul found itself in knots.

 

I did a good job holding it together and not letting Richard or the kids pick up on the fact I had a little person jumping to and fro in my head screaming all the “what ifs…” or better yet “you willingly signed up your family to go through Clarence straight?!?” Or “what are you thinking?”

 

After pushing the little person in a dark closet in my mind, I did my best to move on.

 

So we began to pack our things. Laughing as the pile got bigger and bigger. I even sent a text to my friend saying, “um, I promise, I did leave the kitchen sink behind”.

 

As departure day got closer, the weather forecast was not in our favor. We couldn’t leave a day earlier due to Richard’s work schedule. Both families hoped and prayed the weather would lighten so we could get there safely. The night before I yet again texted our friends and asked “how hard core are you guys?”. My true colors were showing, but I was getting nervous people, there were white caps all over the seas 😳.

 

We woke to the sound of rain beating on our roof and windows. You could hear and feel the gusts of wind as they came with no break. The men loaded the boat up that would carry 12 people to their much anticipated destination. When Richard walked back into the house, not a single thing on him was dry. He even got soaked in the monsoon while wearing heavy duty rain gear.

 

I sent a text to my mom and our bonus parents, asking for prayer. We loaded up and placed our faith in God, but also in the fact that our boat captain, my friend’s husband is an experienced boat captain and diver, Clarence straight was not foreign territory to him, he had been in seas, much bigger then 5 ft, which is what we were going to face.

 

The boat ride…well…

 

Puke ✔️

Sea sickness meds ✔️

5ft seas ✔️

Stressed out sarah ✔️

 

The rational side of me was fighting with all its’ might to chill out. But let me tell you, it had a mighty opponent to face. At one point the boat captain mentioned my white knuckles that hadn’t let go of the metal railing since the first roll was hit. It was clear that I was not enjoying the lovely southeast fall storm.

 

Then as I started to breathe, as I fought to keep my stomach from joining the other stomach that was now in the A&P fried chicken container, I began to do what I always do when I am stressed. I started to sing.

 

“You walk on waves, you run with clouds, you paint the sky for me to see, your majesty, your majesty is why I sing”🎶

 

It’s funny how I could have solved the problem 45 mins earlier if I had had my heart in the right posture to acknowledge that the maker of the waves was in control and that he loves me more then the waves crashing, I could have handle those seas so much better.

 

We arrived to a quiet little cove and saw our cabin that would be our home for the next few days.  Kids had boots on in no time to board the skiff that would get us to dry steady land, but it was the mommas that made sure we were on the first trip over. Little babies that needed to be fed had put their requests in.

 

We were completely blown away with the cabin. Full kitchen with real counter tops and running water, a couch by the wood stove and big windows to sit and look at the beauty our Heavenly Father created.

 

The kids were let loose to explore their new surroundings and we began to unpack our gear and set thing up while the men ferried it to us from the big boat.

Our first night we dined on halibut and did our best to dry out after getting soaked from earlier in the day. The rain didn’t stop the kids from exploring and there were wet clothes, muddy boots and countless layers that would need to hang dry all night.

 

The kids were all piled in one room together which meant that bedtime was a figurative time frame and it came with lots of laughs, giggles, songs and flashlights going every direction.  

 

Thankful our sweet little babies slept through the nighttime shenanigans and let the adults stay up and share stories, views on the current world issues and the heart/mission of the church.

 

I have found as social media has become a bigger giant then I think people realized it would in the last 10 yrs, forming and building relationships can be really hard. People can save the “best” of them to only show the world and edit and delete the heck out of anything. True, transparent, open dialogue is hard to find. Add being a parent to more the one child makes it even harder with the need to keep countless appointments in check. Then add a kid with a fatal disease to the mix and it is SO hard.

 

We had prayed and prayed as a family, that if the lord intended to give us rest from the hustle and bustle he would protect Ezzy and the other kids from colds and we would be able to go with everyone being healthy.

 

The morning light came way too soon for parents that stayed up like they were young 20 somethings and didn’t have a care in the world. Thankfully our friends had coffee perking as soon as little feet hitting the ground was heard. After a big breakfast we ventured out on a hike with the kids.

 

Did we hope to see deer?

 

Um, yes.  

 

Did we expect 8 kids under 9 to be quiet in the woods?

 

Um, no.

 

But I will tell you, it was fun listening to the conversations going on. To listen to the questions that would pop into inquisitive minds. To hear how the kids would answer each other’s questions. Relationships were forming. Even with the purest little souls.

 

We stumbled on a baby fawn and got exited and hoped that a daddy might be around later.

 

We didn’t see anything, most likely because we had scared anything with working innate self preservation away.  

 

But after 4 miles we had worn out tired kids that had brought the level of crazy to a manageable level.

 

I had a chance to sit and talk with my friend as the kids played in the break from the rain while the hubbies set the skate. Honesty was delivered. On both ends. My love language: quality time, was met in abundance with her that afternoon. I never ever intend to come off intimating, yet I get labeled that a lot. But praise Jesus, he brought her to me, because as we walked through, talked through some of my giants, she gave me solid Kingdom principles, not easy to hear, but spoken in truth and love.

 

When the men had developed a plan to go hunting early in the morning we were given a brief gun lesson. Neither of us had loaded and shot a gun in a long time. If we were going to be left on our own with little kids that embraced the freedom of camping life and had shown a tendency to go farther then yelling distance we needed to be equipped.

 

The second night came quickly and was met with tired kids that had found their sleeping bags calling them sooner then the night before. We were blessed with another night of conversation and laughter and even more assurance that our friendship would not be brief.

 

The next morning while the men were out hunting, we fed hungry tired bellies and prayed that we would have fresh meat to eat in the evening. The kids enjoyed their pancakes that were made with the benefits of their labor from picking the afternoon before.  

 

Our quiet afternoon of card playing, being slaughtered at go fish came to an end when a bear cub was sighted and no momma bear to be seen. And you had better believe that of course kids were much farther then we had wanted. We managed to get them safely inside the cabin and felt comfortable enough to put away the gun.  

 

Nika, the most efficient guard dog refused to stay inside with us and sat out on the porch watching and guarding her family.

 

The kids went to bed in record time that night. We were all tired and feeling the effect of the long days of “relaxing”. Plus, feeding them marshmellows with a required promise of going to bed without resistance helped. We ended our last night staying up again, forcing an escort to beam a big light on us yet another night as the moms escaped to the outhouse, and went to bed with light hearts that had been heard.

 

We worked hard to pack up our gear and get the cabin put back together, it was our goal to leave it cleaner then what was left for us. We all found our roles easily and laughed at how we got the whole “commune” mentality. The kids enjoyed the low tide and explored all the way up until it was time to say good bye to our temporary home. (Even boo bear had to help haul gear 😉)

 

We weren’t ready to go back to the demands of life. Even though we were tired and wanted the comforts of our own homes, beds that didn’t squeak with each deep breath taken or the bugs that taunted poop covered hands to be swatted at on top of a head 💩🤢 or being eaten alive each time we stepped outside, we had all enjoyed this getaway.

 

Our souls need it, I didn’t have the forethought to know that this trip would be as meaningful to each of us, including Ezzy as much as it was.  

 

When we got home we asked each kid to tell us what was their favorite part of the trip was.

 

Cayden: the hunt with Adam and daddy

 

Ezzy: getting to sleep with everyone in the same room

 

Kyre: ALL of it

 

This trip was possible because of a dream a little man made. Because of a big goal that he dared to set and better yet accomplish. Each therapy session was done thanks to the generator. It even allowed for a mom to pump and get some relief. Because of Cayden’s heart,  Ezzy got to experience something so little, yet so huge in her life: a sleep over 3x.

 

After our recent trip to Seattle and the news of her lung function dropping, warranting the need to start a drug that when we first heard about it, her team said she wasn’t in need of. Her lung function has always been above normal, so much that when she started to do lung function tests, they didn’t have other 5 year olds to compare data with, because most kids that age can’t mentally and physically do them properly. But Ezzy hit them out of the park each time. This has allowed them to monitor her lung health more closely over the last 3 years.

 

So when a dip showed up along with a lung infection that wasn’t responding to antibiotics, our doctors came with the heavy news of her now being a prime candidate for the astronomically priced medicine. After years of being told she was above the norm, we had to hear from the doctor who has cared for her the last 7 years that she was finally in a normal range, which to be honest we don’t ever want her to be described as a normal CFer, we want her to not be the norm.

 

Armed with the information on the possible side effects of the medicine: tightness of the chest, cataracts, and liver enzyme elevation, we still left with peace.  

 

Peace, true peace, peace that rushes in when the weight of the world, its present troubles are piled high, when the peace of the Lord pours over you, you can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.

 

The side effects, the high cost of meds ($300k a year), the decline in lung function, the realization that Ezzy will at times not get better despite the countless hours we dedicate to extra therapy sessions, time spent on high calorie meals, prayer, exhaustion from doing things on our own strength, the unending emotional battle a caregiver gives as they watch their loved family fight. All of those things don’t stand a chance against the very fact that Ezzy is and will always be God’s child, not mine. We have to actively choose to believe and trust he is always going before her.

 

There is going to come a time when I need to remind Ezzy in the midst of her tears about life being unfair of the time we all piled in a boat and watched ice age on repeat and tried to keep our food in our stomachs or watching Moana every therapy session

with everyone huddled around her and mommy’s iPad or cornering the gentle giant Adam and talking his ear off when he finally found a moment of quiet or the time when Autumn showed no mercy at go fish or the sweet baby Grayson who saved all his best smiles for her, every time she asked to hold him.

 

Thankful God is faithful to fix our eyes on the people he brings into our lives to help lessen the weight Cystic Fibrosis can bring to our family and their hearts to provide opportunities for us to make special memories with our warrior.

 

“That is why we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed everyday. For our present troubles are small and won’t last very long. Yet they produce for us a glory that vastly outweighs them and will last forever. So we don’t look at the troubles we can see now; rather; we fix our gaze on things that cannot be seen. For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever” – 2 Corinthians 4:16-18