My Little Ballers....

Football has been quite an experience for us this year.  It was the first year I allowed JLS to play with pads and who knows what came over me when WHS asked to play.  JLS had to wait until he was 9 and WHS never waited.  Welcome to three children!

JLS was, as expected, quick and mobile like a cat and did very well.  He was one of the youngest and littlest on the team, but he held his own indeed!

WHS was dubbed "Iron Will" by his coaches.  He was the only child on the team that didn't cry and his coach LOVED him.  That's what happens when you are the third of three boys.  You get body slammed daily and think it's a part of daily life.  WHS is TOUGH!

There have been LOTS of practices and LOTS of time on the field.  It truly wore us all out.  That said, I think the boys had a great time playing football.  But for now, its time for a break!

Final Luau Program at GSLC

 I am sure I have said it one hundred times and I will say it one hundred more.  We LOVED our precious little preschool here in The Woods.  Nothing is small here, but our school was.  We loved every teacher and just about every teacher had all three of my angels.  They saw them when they probably weren't perfect angels, held them when they were babies, changed too many diapers to count, taught them about Jesus and academics.  They loved my children.

We sat thru 8 end of year Luau programs in our tenure at GSLC.  Every year it was the same but a little different.  I was so happy that I was able to be present for the final Luau program of our career.

This year, WHS was the big man on campus.  Mr. Transitional Kindergarten.  Hot stuff.

I love this angel with all my heart.  And now he is already on to Kindergarten and a super stud.

 WHS with Gambo at the post-party!

JBS Awards Assembly

This was the 4th Grade awards assembly for JBS.  I was so proud of him for being up on that stage.  We had a tough year working out his ADD meds and it really affected his grades and his confidence.    The fact that he received multiple awards this day attests to how hard he worked despite his set backs.

He is a darn cute rock star.

The award winners....

JLS Turned NINE!

He turned NINE in May!  Another sweet angel who had to wait patiently for his momma to get healthy.  My sporty little guy wanted a sporty birthday party, so we had it at Legends with Dodgeball and Kickball as sports of choice.  What is it about Dodgeball?  It is fun for ALL ages!

Per JLS' request, I made him a cookie cake.  It's clearly nothing special, but it sure makes his eyes light up.  Same exact cake he had for the Legends birthday party we had three years ago.  We don't like change...

JLS and LH...best buddies.

JBS with a mouthful of food...

Blowing out the candles!

What a cutie.  I love him so much.  I especially love telling him about how strong-willed he was as a baby and how I never thought I would survive him.  Now...he is angelic, thoughtful, selfless, loves Jesus, smart, athletic and a precious son.  Thank you Lord for the swift turn in personality once he got tubes in his ears!

Field Day

So, I have a lot of catching up to do being down for the count for 6 months!  Yes, it's crazy, but true.  My first surgery was May 2nd.  I still managed to get pictures from friends and Babe was Daddy on the spot.  It's kind of hard to go back to this time because I was so sad to be missing these things, but even harder because I had no idea what was about to happen to me.  That said, God has been so good to us, so faithful, and we are so grateful.  Praise the Lord.

JLS and his best buddy LH (to his right) are both very fast little boys.  They were instant BFF's when we moved here and LH had only been here for the first semester himself.  JLS's first year here was 1st grade and the two of them placed 1st and 2nd ( a toe apart) in the big race on Field Day.  Second grade is pictured below.  Each day in gym, their teacher would tell me that they would compete against each other.  One day LH would win, the next day JLS would.  It was friendly competition back and forth.

Field Day is a BIG DEAL here and both boys had their eyes on the prize.  JLS had been battling plantar fasciitis type pain, but still gave it his all.  When I got the report, I was just as disappointed as the two of them.  LH tripped and fell and JLS got 2nd.  When I jokingly asked him why he didn't get 1st he said, "beez my heel was hutting".  Sweet angel.  He continues to struggle with that heel.  Hoping its not a lifetime battle.  Betting on this year.  JLS and LH will sure to be at the top!

The wonderful thing about this friendship is that they are both smart, too.  They compete with grades and in the classroom and on the field.  His mom and I love it!  Nothing better than a little friendly encouragement and competition!

God Moments All Together

It has been such a privilege sharing my story of healing.  I still have to pinch myself when I realize I AM healing and I AM getting stronger and I AM out of the hospital.  Praise God!

I am creating this blog as a place to gather my God Moments stories in one place.  I love sharing how God worked in my life this summer and I don't want anyone to miss one!

The {sort of } beginning of my ordeal begins here.  I posted this on My Intestine-Mony blog before my surgeries:

Here We Go

I know there are quite a few links, but I can't stand a blog that goes on for pages and pages, so I try to keep each blog to a main point :)  You are welcome.

God Moments: Climbing Back on the Horse

God Moments: The Big Decision

God Moments: The Anatomical Details

God Moments: Amazing Prayer (Part One)

God Moments: Amazing Prayer (Part Two)

God Moments: The Heart

God Moments: Disappearing pocket

God Moments: The Infected Stitch

God Moments: Prayers

God Moments: You're So Strong....

Be Careful What You Ask For

Today, I feel that I can say I AM HEALED!  Words I never thought I would say this side of Heaven.

Healed

I know it can be lengthy, but I encourage you to take a bite at a time.  For the worst time in my life, it was the best.  I found the most peace and comfort I have ever felt in my life.

Riding a Bike--Check!

This little guy was as content to ride on training wheels as any of our children.  He had no worries, no concern and no desire to take off the training wheels.  JBS learned to ride at 5 simply because we didn't have a place to RIDE our bikes until we moved to The Woodlands.  He learned as soon as we moved here.  JLS was bound and determined and was riding without training wheels at 2 ½ years old.  And then, there is WHS.  He is 6.  And now, he can finally ride a bike!

It took very little effort on his part.

He just had to learn to master how to stop :)  He knew how to brake, but getting off the bike with a foot on the ground seemed to be a challenge.

And then, he was off!

And proud as a peacock.

So proud of him for trying and succeeding!  

Country Boys

This is why I LOVE the country.  We have accomplished what we set out for when we moved to more land.  I wanted to encourage my boys to be outside more, work hard and play hard.  The other day, I looked outside and JBS was mowing the lawn on Babe's mower.  Right behind him was JLS on the "new" tractor mower (below) chasing him.  And bringing up the rear was WHS on his electric John Deere green Tractor.  They were all racing each other and I LOVED every moment of it.  My boys are tractor racing in our front yard together.  I only wish I got a picture of it.

The other day, I caught this blurry pic thru my window.  JBS attached the wagon to the tractor while WHS took a nap in the back.  JBS pulled him so long that he ran out of gas in the middle of the yard...oops!  Best money spent on a tank of gas.  I would do it again any day to keep them off the Play Station and outside in this beautiful weather! 

Love these boys!

Normal Mommy

Last week I was sitting on the porch watching the boys play in the front yard when WHS, sweaty and tired, flopped down on the couch next to me.  Through all of my health issues this summer, he has been a little nervous around me.  I had lots of bandages and scary incisions.  I tried to keep most of it hidden, but once at home, privacy was close to impossible.  I didn't want him to be afraid, but I wanted all the boys to know that I was OK despite the marks and scars.

That morning I had intentionally put perfume on after I got dressed in an effort to feel like myself again.  Every day....put on the clothes and brush the hair and now perfume to take a step in the direction of ME again.  WHS leaned his sweet little head on my shoulder and inhaled really big.  He said, "You smell like normal mommy!" and gave me a sweet little smile.  I asked him what that meant.  He said, "You don't smell like sick-in-the-hospital mommy anymore."

I wilted.  I am so glad I don't smell like whatever that medicinal hospital smelly mommy was anymore.  And so grateful, my sweet little WHS knows that I am on my way to normal mommy again.  

Be Careful What You Ask For

A few years ago, I would say the "perfect storm" occurred.  I was asked to share my testimony in my Sunday School at the same time I was involved in a Bible Study that challenged me to discover my purpose.  Within a few months of that,  my husband and I heard a message about asking God to challenge us so He could work in our lives.  I was contemplating some big subjects!

I will start with being asked to share my testimony.  We joined a new Sunday School class and as a class, we were asked to share our testimony, if we chose, with the class.  This proposal always makes my hands get sweaty and my stomach drop.  “PLEASE don’t ask ME to give my testimony…..I don’t have one!”    I thought for a long time about what my story really was.  I knew I had a strong faith. I grew up in a strong tight-knit Christian family.  My parents were great and raised us to love the Lord, they taught us discipline, respect, love, kindness.  We went on family vacations and we loved spending time together.  I had an idyllic childhood.  It’s safe to say, as a teenager, I had a good head on my shoulders and never veered into trouble.  I had lots of great friends, played a sport successfully and thoroughly enjoyed junior high and high school.  Same goes for college.  If I had challenges, they weren’t more than I could handle and nothing that I can point to as the source for any pain or suffering.  I was truly blessed.  I don't have a major life-changing experience.  I have been told by several people that I am lucky to not have had to experience those hard times, but I still don't have a story....or a testimony.  That has always bothered me.  How do I share a testimony when there is nothing to share?

At the same time, I was in a wonderful women's Bible Study that really challenged everyone to find their purpose.  Stating the obvious, my purpose was to be a good mom, wife, friend, daughter, sister, etc.  But it left me wondering what was my deeper purpose in serving God?  I thought about this for several weeks and came to the conclusion that both my testimony and my purpose were related to the one great hardship in my life: my health, or lack there of it.  I had a lot of experience with stomach troubles and studying more homeopathic options.  More and more people were asking me questions for their friend or mom or even themselves.  I found myself spending loads of time just returning emails and phone calls, so I started a blog:  My (In)testi(ne)-mony.  I created it as a resource for my story, the blogs I read, the foods I ate, the books I read.   It was a mishmash of thoughts with the intentions of helping others with any sort of stomach illness.  It's certainly not complete, but it was a place to steer the questions.

Around the same time, my husband and I heard a message about asking God to challenge you.  I did an entire study on John 15, specifically John 15:5:

"I am the vine; you are the branches. If you remain in me and I in you, you will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing."  John 15:5

Briefly, on a vineyard, the farmer very carefully prunes back any dead or dying leaves or branches in order to allow the good nutrients to stay in the healthy part of the plant.  This allows the plant to bear more fruit.  In the same way, God prunes and shapes Christians so that we can bear more fruit for His kingdom.  To ask to be pruned is, truthfully, quite scary.  It is trusting the Lord and committing to His plan with blind faith.  It is knowing that the more fruit you bear, the more challenges you might receive from Satan, who wants nothing more than for you to fail....and still persevering thru those challenges.  But, also knowing that God is with you the entire way and will help you to reap a bountiful harvest!

This is thick.  I fully believe that while God may allow hardships in our life (read the book of Job), he is not the one performing the actual duties, but Satan is.  God only knows love.  God IS love.  God knows how far we can be tested in order to grow our faith and relationship with him.  He allows those challenges to occur, but He turns those lemons into lemonade.  Romans 8:28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.It is a huge leap of faith to ask God to challenge you.  It could be in your marriage, your friendships, your family, your health, your finances.  If you ask to be challenged, you better be braced for a challenge.  Why would anyone do such a thing?  That's my first thought!  But as you grow in your faith, your desire is to become closer to God, to live for His Glory, to share His promises.  How do you grow in your faith when you aren't fully trusting in Him on a daily basis?  I know that when things are smooth sailing for me, I find myself forgetting to pray or spend time in the Word.  But when things are hard, I am on my knees multiple times a day begging for grace, healing, strength.  God WANTS that relationship with us.  He wants us to grow closer to Him and depend upon Him.  He wants us to seek Him out on a daily basis.

Dare I say that my challenge that I ASKED for is what I am experiencing right now.  It has been building for years and I just reached the summit.  It's mean and nasty and extremely difficult for me and for my family.  But together, our faith has grown immensely, my children are witnessing miracles and watching how my husband and I deal with our challenges.  Friends and family are praying for me maybe in ways they have never prayed before, thus growing their relationship with the Lord.   If I asked for a challenge in my life, I got it!  THIS is my testimony that I never had.  THIS is my purpose.  It is to share what I have learned, seen and felt in receiving God's grace so that others may believe.  I have a voice.

A sweet friend left these words on my Facebook page today that she heard in church:  "Your wound becomes your treasure."  "Grace is more than you can imagine." And finally,"Lord may my weakness become my witness."

How perfect is that!?  Please Lord, let my terrible weakness become my witness.  You've seen this before!

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong."  2 Corinthians 12:9

So, be careful what you ask for.  I encourage you to challenge yourself, but be braced for the storm.  Praise Him before the storm, in the storm and after the storm.  The beauty is that when the storm subsides, you can see how God's grace abounds.I can't wait to share that part of my story :)

God Moments: You're So Strong....

I have been surrounded and encouraged by so many amazing people.  I have no problem sharing my story.  In fact, I want to share my story and all the miracles I experienced.  Even the closest of friends and family don't know what to say to 5 surgeries and a near death experience.  I still don't know what to say about it!  The most common thing I hear, "Penny, you are so strong." or "You are the strongest person I know."  While I know that those words are said with the best of intentions and love, I shudder each time I hear them.  I may have started with a little strength, but each surgery and each day in the hospital took more and more out of me.  I was so weak.  And I got weaker every day.

Physically, while days are improving here at home, I was in bed from May 4th thru the end of July.  Yes, I got up and down for short bits, but my back was so sore and my hamstrings so tight.  I lost 40 pounds.  That is no joke.  Sitting in bed for that long only weekend my muscles and left me with such little energy.  Nutrition, nutrition, nutrition was stressed over and over in the hospital.  I was so frustrated, as having only 20% of my stomach, I could only eat small bits at a time.  And they wanted me to GAIN weight?  How in the world?  I had IV nutrition and no appetite.  Eating was very stressful for me, as I wanted to be healthy and I had to maintain good labs without the IV nutrition to get OUT of that hospital.  It was really hard.  We kept track of everything that entered my mouth.

I walked very slow and my incision pulled me forward into a hunched position only making my lower back hurt more.  While in the hospital, I was so weak, I even had OT and PT.  This couldn't be more humbling coming from a girl with a history practicing acute care OT!

So many people told me as I was improving (hind site is 20/20) how grey I was when I came in.  My color was terrible with infection all over my body.  The drains and incisions...I can't even fully count my scars.  A huge one on them midline of my belly that displaced my belly button.  Yes...its numb and in the wrong place by a couple centimeters.  My belly looks like I have been in a knife fight.

Emotionally, I was spent.  I was tired of being in the hospital. I was tired of going in to surgery. I was tired of being in pain.  I was tired of carrying 4 drains with me everywhere I went.  I was tired of hauling TWO IV poles with me every time I had to use the restroom.  And after my second surgery, I was given a temporary ostomy.  I certainly hated that from the start.

Alone, I was so weak.

BUT....I had my Jesus.  I had hope.  I had promises.

 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.  
II Corinthians 12:9-10

This verse spelled out everything I felt and was going thru.  I was so weak.  I was not strong, at all.  My chin was not up.  But CHRIST'S power thru me made me stronger than ever.   I may have been physically and emotionally weak, but spiritually I was strong.  His grace was and is sufficient.  That's it!  I had God's grace.  To delight in weakness seems a little nutty, but I delighted!  For who else would I want to make me strong than my God?  The God of angel armies?  The God that saves and whose power is made PERFECT in weakness?  My God is HUGE.  My God saves and He saved ME!  Absolutely I will boast about my weaknesses, because when I was my weakest was when God showed up and He alone made me strong.

I am no hero.  I am not strong.  In fact, I am SO weak.  And I will gladly tell you of my weaknesses because the strength you see in me is not me.  The strength you see in me is my God.  And His power rests in me. 

Wow. 

God Moments: Prayers

Prayer.  As I contemplate what that means, it really brings tears to my eyes.  I often shy from telling someone, “I’m praying for you” because it seems so cliche.  Are you really?  I had a friend with an urgent prayer request that she sent via text.  I literally dropped to my knees that moment to pray for her so I could say with confidence, “I am praying for you!”  I  never want to be one to promise to pray for someone and not do it. 

For many, prayer is something “out there” that’s just there for do-gooders to make them feel good.  I would say that even many Christians have never felt the power of an answered prayer.  In my humble opinion, it goes back to not watching for God on a daily basis.  God answers prayers.  They just might not be answered in the manner in which you expect.  My 8th grade Sunday School teacher was a very precious and very wise 80 year-old man.  He told us that God answers all prayers.  “Yes”  “No” or “Maybe Later”.  I have never forgotten that.

Until a few years ago, I am not sure I experienced transforming prayer.  I wasn’t looking!  My husband and I made a decision to downsize our lifestyle.  He walked away from a very lucrative job to be home with the kids more.  We sold our home that we loved to get more land and find more peace in our hectic life.  We never prayed harder for jobs, homes, schools, friends.  It was absolutely mind boggling how every single thing fell into place perfectly….the job, the selling of one home, the buying of another, the school, the friends.  We definitely both felt God orchestrating our lives because we had committed our changes daily to the Lord together.  It was amazing to watch the little confirmations that added up to something big.  It was powerful to be a part of.  God, no doubt, answered our prayers.

After my first surgery in May when my wound wasn’t healing, I was very frustrated. I wanted desperately to be strong and return to “normal.”  I knew something was wrong, as it appeared that I would be getting wound care for months at the rate I was healing.  I remember very clearly tearfully asking my mom, “Where is MY miracle?  Why isn’t God healing ME?”  I never felt a point of losing my faith by any stretch, but I was certainly discouraged and wanting to wake up one day and be healed.  **Poof** That’s healing, right?  Instant.  Immediate.  I often thought about the woman in the Bible who had so much faith Jesus could heal her, she just touched his cloak.  I would laugh to myself and say, “Give me a cloak!  I believe!  Heal me, PLEASE!”

Things clearly got far worse before they got better.  I cried out, “Why won’t you heal me?  Where is MY miracle?”  I have prayed for years for healing, as have many friends and family.  I know I can be healed, so why not?  Why not me?  I prayed a lot in the hospital and spent a lot of time listening to praise and worship music.  My favorite song was “Whom Shall I Fear” by Chris Tomlin.  I literally cried myself to sleep listening to the lyrics.  I have pulled a few of my favorite lyrics out.  Our pastor knows Chris Tomlin and said he wrote this song because his wife would wake up in the night with panic attacks.  He knew it was an attack on her and prayed these words over her when she had an attack.

I know who goes before me

I know who stands behind

The God of angel armies

Is always by my side

The thought alone of an angel gives me chills.  But to imagine angel armies all around protecting me was so emotional for me.  My God is SO big that he commands the angels….not just a few, but an ARMY of angels.  That huge God is always by my side.  He goes before me and stands behind me.  This was another song I sung on my way into surgeries and procedures when I was scared.

And nothing formed against me shall stand

You hold the whole world in your hands

I'm holding on to your promises

You are faithful

Whom Shall I fear?

Nothing that is formed against me shall stand.  Nothing.  So truly, Whom shall I fear?  God is faithful and I was holding on to His promises.  

This song brought so much peace into my life as I endured each day and long night in the hospital.  I had angel armies on my side.  What in the world should I be afraid of?

As my little miracles started to appear, I first determined that I was going to survive.  God showed me His promises daily.  I then remembered my 8th grade Sunday School teacher.  Prayers aren’t always answered in the way we determine they should be answered.  

I had missed the biggest miracle of all and that was that the Lord saved my life.  By all medical accounts, I shouldn’t have survived OR my organs should have started to shut down and cause various other problems.  Not only did I survive, but I have no issues with my organs.  The original surgery to remove 80% of my stomach did what it was supposed to do and I know my tiny stomach is already stretching out again by the quantity I can eat at a time.  For years, I had pain when I ate, excruciating pain.  Then, I would vomit.  My stomach was so inflamed that it was swollen shut.  Since my surgery, I have had no pain in eating and I am eating foods I haven’t been able to eat for years and no vomiting.  What a praise!

I don’t know why I had to deal with being septic, almost 6 weeks in the hospital, 4 additional surgeries (one more to come makes 5), an incredible amount of pain and heartache for me and my family, a missed vacation, missed time with my kids over the summer.…so much. But what I do know is that I am healed thru the power of amazing prayer from hundreds of prayer warriors.  I learned how many people loved me and my family.  God revealed Himself to me thru my heart in my bulb, the vanishing pocket of fluid, bringing the amazing doctors to me, my beautiful image of home in my vision.  SO many ways that I know in my heart that it was God and they were miracles and I was watching.  I was pleading for those miracles.  And God showed up over and again.

I have had several people tell me after sharing my stories, “Those stories need to be told.”  So that is what I want to do.  I want to share my healing, and I believe the miracles are not mine to keep, but to share, as well. God has been so faithful to my family and to all those who have prayed for me.  I owe it to Him and to my prayer warriors to show everyone what they have done for me thru their prayers.  “Thank you” is so small in relation to getting to live.  There are no words.

"I know who goes before me.  I know who stands behind.  The God of angel armies is always by my side."   -Chris Tomlin

God Moments: The Infected Stitch

After my first surgery in May when my wound wasn't healing properly, the middle of the incision was sealed.  But there was a "pinhole" at the top that wouldn't close and then a larger open wound down around my belly button that we had to pack.  I developed a "tunnel" under my incision and eventually, it all began to rip open.  I was told this happened because of the infection inside my body.  It was deteriorating from the inside out.  It wasn't pretty.

The entire time I was in the hospital the second time in June/July, my wound was left open.  The surgeon didn't want to close it up with the possibility of closing up infection.  So, I had an amazing piece of equipment called a Wound Vac...or Vacuum.  They cut a special sponge to fit inside of my wound and sealed it with a vacuum attachment connected to a vacuum basin.  My wound was constantly being vacuumed with negative pressure which allowed it to stay clean and dry and somehow, it sped the process of healing.  It was truly remarkable.  It did exactly that.

My fourth surgery in the hospital was to close up my incision.  By that time, they were confident the infection was gone and stitched and stapled me up.  I was able to go home without the wound vac and one less "attachment".  Once I was home, most of my incision healed beautifully.  About two inches at the bottom started to "roll" so they removed the staples early and allowed it to heal from the bottom up.  It did what it was supposed to do and healed well.  And then....there was the pinhole at the top that wouldn't heal.

This brought fear and panic when I realized this same spot was not healing in the same way it didn't heal in the first surgery.  That was how I perceived that the beginning of my nightmare began.  My home health nurse continued to reassure me that there were no other outward signs of infection.  The rest of the incision looked great, no redness, tenderness or swelling.  However, we could press around that hole and get liquid out in small amounts.  That was not good.  And this was on top of the fact that my temperature was rising to a steady low grade temperature everyday.  Panic set in.  I already had an appointment with my surgeon the next day.  Thank goodness!

As I mentioned before, I have never experienced fear like I have through out this experience.  I know enough to know that rising temperature and non-healing wound means trouble.  It felt like Groundhog Day.... Here we go again.  I called my parents in tears.  I was just so scared that the infection had crept back in and I was going back to the hospital for another surgery.  All I could think about was the pain and how the boys are finally getting over my being gone so long.  How can I leave them again with fear in their hearts?  My thoughts were irrational, but at the same time, it had happened once before.  It could happen again.

When I arrived at the surgeons office, the nurse practicioner looked at my incision and praised it for how well it was doing and how healthy it looked.  Then, she pressed around the pin hole and more fluid came out and this time it was white-ish.  Every muscle in my body was tense, my toes curled, my shoulders and back cinched.  I was so fearful.  I just knew they were going to admit me to the hospital and cut me open again.  As it turned out, she just took a culture of the fluid and I was on my way to wait impatiently for 72 hours.

The fear over this small pinhole was eating me up.  My parents and husband were nervous.  I had to get my mind off of me.  I have a great little flip book of verses that are all focused on healing.  I read thru the first couple and landed on this:

When God speaks, He speaks!  I feel like that was my slap in the face to "Get OVER it!"  God brought me this far, how in the world will he let this pinhole destroy me?  It might be infected, but nothing another antibiotic or a good doctor couldn't handle.

It was the nurse practitioner that took care of me that day and before I knew it, I had a call from my surgeon to come back in so he could "look around."  I drove myself to his office the next day and had my prayer posse on it.  I was so convinced that they would admit me straight to the hospital that I prayed in my car before I went in the office and made sure it was clean and tidy for whomever would have to come pick it up.  I just knew it was going to be bad news.  I had to keep repeating the above verse to put one foot in front of the other.

He opened up my incision another half an inch (eeks) and "probed" as he said around rather deep.  And he said, "Just as I thought," as he pulled out a very long and thick, blue stitch with a tiny white cloud on the tip, "An infected stitch."  It was a stitch from the muscular layer so it was a heavy duty one.  He joked with me initially that it was a worm and laughed at the shock on my face.  I think the shock was not about a worm, but utter relief that this enormous infection I was convinced that I had was very simply an infected stitch.  Nothing to it.

I immediately texted all my precious prayer warriors to tell them I didn't have the life-threatening infection I was certain I had and that it was simply a stitch.  A stitch removed and on to healing.  Praise God.

The Lord isn't finished with me yet! :)

God Moments: Disappearing pocket

We were on Cloud 9 after we made it to Day 5 and saw the heart in the bulb of my drain.  We drew great comfort from that and ANY sign that encouraged us that I was going to improve, go home, and be "Penny" again.  BUT there was still one major hurdle to jump.  There was still a questionable pocket of fluid in my lower abdomen.

This pocket of fluid previously had a drain in it that was inserted outside of surgery by an Interventional Radiologist. They took me to CT and inserted the drain by taking pictures, inserting and using the CT scan to assist to ensure it was placed properly.  I was scared, but in the end it didn't hurt that much to put IN.  Now, pulling it out was another story.  I did not want another drain placed there because it would have been the same method and the removal was a bear.  Quick, but a high-pitched scream kind of a moment.  It also meant going home....but with a drain.  I just wanted to go home with as few attachments as possible.

My surgeon ordered a CT scan of the area where the pocket had recently been seen.  It had been there all along, in all the CTs and didn't disappear even after the drain had stopped draining.  It was very stubborn.  He said if it was the same size or smaller, then we wouldn't worry about it.  As you can imagine, I didn't want it there AT ALL.  Even if it was smaller, it was still a potential breeding ground for infection that I had had plenty of.  I wanted it GONE!  So, we began to pray.  We spread the word, yet again, to pray for this pocket to vanish, disappear, be GONE!  Please, please, Lord, I begged!  Please let this be gone.  I was so fearful of going home with anything remotely close to having potential for infection.  I always went back to the fact that I was "near death septic" and I was walking, driving my kids, feeling tired, but OK and I had no idea how sick I really was.  I didn't trust myself to know the warning signs if things went bad at home.

A dear friend of my mom and dad wrote a prayer to me and included "Rapha Father".  I know there are multiple names for God and each has a different meaning.  This is certainly something I want to dig deeper into now, but at the time, we learned that "Rapha" meant healing.  I held onto this and regularly prayed for Rapha Father to heal me.

When it came time for the moment, the "big" CT, I was scared.  I have had so many procedures and even surgeries in my life and never truly felt fear like this.  I didn't want to be in the hospital any longer, I was worried about my boys, I was tired of being sick and fighting for my life.  I was just tired.  I was transported back down to my very familiar CT room for the scan.  Of course, by now, I knew all the techs in the department and they all greeted me. "You STILL here?" one of them said.  I scooted over to the scanner and tears just streamed down my face.  Yes...I was still there.  STILL.  All I could do was say, "Rapha!" and then I just started naming all the names for God that I could think of, "Emmanuel, El Shaddai, Elohim, Jesus, Father, God..." And for the next fifteen minutes I was moved in and out of the scanner and I just kept repeating the names of my Father in Heaven.  I just closed my eyes and whispered over and over again.  Amazingly, just saying those names, I stopped crying and found a great peace over my entire body.  "Heal me.  Rapha Father.  Heal me."

With previous CT's, as I left, I looked over my shoulder in the computer room to see what was on their screen.  I could always see multiple white balls (abscesses) scattered all over my abdominal cavity.  I didn't allow myself to look this time for fear I would see an old scan or see something that was really nothing.  I kept my eyes straight forward as I was wheeled back out the door and to my room and continued to pray that my CT scan was clear.

Later that afternoon, my Infectious Disease doctor rounded thru my room.  We loved him. He was very amiable and joked with my kids when they were there.  He loved me and took great care of me.  He was as important as the surgeon as he was in charge of the antibiotics and killing all the infection we couldn't see with our eyes.  When he came in he started to talk then stopped.  He said, "Has anyone told you about your CT yet?"  My Dad was with me and we both blurted, "NO!"  We had no idea it was back and the surgeon hadn't been by yet.  "Please tell us!"  I hung on every word he said.  For a moment and the way he asked that, I thought it was time to make a plan for re-insertion of the drain.  But in his next breath, he said, "It's gone.  The scan looks great."  I just stared at him for what seemed like forever as he went on talking and I interrupted.  "You are telling me that the pocket we are worried about has completely vanished?  It's no longer there?"  And he said, "Yes!"  And believe it or not, I cried.  And I looked at my Dad and he was crying....another non-surprise.  We cried A LOT!  Tears of joy for my healing and tears in awe that our prayers were answered and tears that we had no doubt that we had just witnessed a miracle.  It wasn't the same size or smaller...the pocket had VANISHED!

Praise GOD!  Rapha Father, healing Father, Elohim, El Shaddai, JESUS!

God Moments: The Heart

By the fourth week in the hospital, I was growing discouraged.  We needed a lift and we needed it in a physical change kind of way.  I was basically sitting in the hospital recovering from incisions, allowing them to drain and praying that the infection went away and the damaged areas were repaired.  It seemed like this could take forever.  There was no end in sight.

During my third surgery, the drain that looked infectious prior to the surgery was replaced.  It was draining from the duodenal bulb area that caused us so much grief already.  My surgeon said he scrubbed and washed and scrubbed that area really well so as to practically guarantee the infection would not return.

I like dates, parameters and measurable goals.  I asked him when we would know we were "in the clear" since this was now the second drain in the same place.  My surgeon said that usually by 5 days we can feel pretty confident that the infection is gone.  He told us that if that drain stayed clear we could start discussing sending me home. (Holy Hannah!  I could have leaped from bed and kissed him at that point.)  There were still some other things to work on over the next week, but nothing that wouldn't allow me to go home. You better believe we had a countdown going for those 5 days.  Every morning, Mom took a picture of the bulb to report that it was still red and bloody vs white and infectious.  This we celebrated every day. She sent it in a text to everyone in our family.  This might be gross for some, but for us, "Red" was health!  "Red" was healing!  "Red" meant I was close to home!  I didn't even think about what the alternative was.  We were focused on red.  We made it to Day 2, then Day 3,  and Day 4.  One doctor's opinion was even that we passed Day 3 meant it was pretty good.  But we still focused on Day 5.  

I woke up early on Day Five as I did every morning.  The nurses had been coming in all night.  New shift started at 7am, so the night nurse was hurrying up to finish her work on me.  It took me some time before it registered to me that it was Day 5.  I scrambled in my bed to find my drain....and this is what I saw:

Yet another promise to me that I was going to be OK.  There was never a day where there was anything remotely close to a heart in my bulb.  But on Day Five, there was my heart, my promise that I was going to be OK.  I quickly showed my mom, who took a picture and blasted it to the whole family.  We. Made. It.  And the heart sealed the deal.  And we both cried. :)

Another lesson I have learned thru this trial is that God is everywhere.  He is in everything.  But if you aren't looking for Him, then you will never see Him.

If I am trying to be poetic, I could take the lesson to be that Jesus died on the cross for me and thru his blood I am saved because He loves me so much.  So, the heart in the blood draws all new parallels.  

Once again, we received confirmation even thru small things (that were BIG to me!) that God had this!

God Moments: Amazing Prayer (Part Two)

From that first night of prayer, I mentioned that two things happened.  First was the Refiner's Fire moment and second was my own vision.  As we were praying, my friend asked me what I saw.  This is an eyes closed vision.  What was in my head?  All I could imagine about going home was sitting on the front porch watching my boys play football together.  Ahhhh....pure bliss.

Every time we have moved, I always look out the window and visualize me sitting there watching my kids play.  Even before we had kids, I was pregnant and we were looking at houses.  While we looked at the house we ended up buying, I stood in the utility looking over the desk (the desk that would be mine) and out the back window and I could see my future child(ren) playing in the back yard.  I had that same serene feeling when we moved to this house. Our front yard is large and perfect for the boys to play ball.  It's a very happy vision for me.

As he was praying for me, he asked me what I saw while I prayed.  What was I seeing in my head?

When I told him what I saw, he probed a little more and asked what else I saw.  I saw my dog, Mona :) He asked me this time if I was IN the scene.  I told him I was on the porch swing looking out, but I could not see myself in the picture.  He asked that I put myself in the scene and then asked what I was doing.  I was playing football, of course. 

"Anything else?  What else do you see?" He asked.  What stood out to me most were big rays of light coming down thru my trees that shone on my yard.  It was warm and relaxing.  I was certainly not poetic at describing what I saw, but I felt the warmth, the peace and I could hear their laughter.  That was my happy place.

He told me to keep that vision in my sights until I got home.  You better believe I did.  Any time I had a painful procedure or had a hard day missing home, I just held on to that vision of us playing football together in the front yard....with the beautiful light coming down between the trees.

Fast forward several weeks....Praise God, it was my first week home!  I was sitting on the porch with Babe, enjoying the moment being home and with my family.  Then it hit me....THIS was my vision.  THIS was my picture that I clung to in the hospital, down to the rays of light in my front yard.   Even as I describe it here, I don't feel that words do it justice.  This vision was from the Lord and in just a few days of being home, here it was before me exactly as I had pictured it in the hospital.  Exactly.

Through all the ups and downs, God has been present.  Present in a variety of ways, but little things that I feel were a "promise."  Maybe everyone doesn't see it as I do, but I know.  I know He is there and guiding my every step.  Life has changed considerably for me since my hospital stay.  My perspective is wider.  I don't get flustered with the little things...or the big things.  I appreciate everything....like walking, having good lung capacity, no pain, laughing with friends, playing with my kids, even cleaning my house.  What a joy to have a house to clean!

God is certainly present and this moment, this picture, was Him just winking at me saying, "I've got this!"  And I am so glad He does.

God Moments: Amazing Prayer (Part One)

It was probably after my second surgery that I finally had my blinders removed and realized that I wasn't going anywhere quickly.  I had slow improvements in my numbers, little bits of encouragement here and there, but nothing huge.  If a doctor came to my room and told me ANYTHING about improvement, I clung to every word he said!

By then, I was very tearful.  I was overwhelmed by the people that were getting in touch with me to offer their encouragement and prayers.  My parents would get emails daily that they shared with me about another person or group praying for me.  My sister sent me emails and notes on Facebook that she received from her friends and some of my old friends offering encouragement.  I had so many texts and emails on my phone I couldn't keep up.  Everyone wanted to help, but truly, the only and the BEST thing they could do for me was pray.  We were living on prayer and the peace that came over me multiple times was distinct and powerful.  I knew someone was praying for me then.  I wanted those prayers.  I begged for them.  PLEASE pray for my healing.

The dearest of friends' husband has a pretty amazing testimony himself about a group of men he meets with weekly to pray.  I am not talking about hold hands, Kum-ba-yah, say a prayer and be done kind-of-group.  These men have powerful prayer, emotional prayer.  They don't always know what they are praying for before they meet, but something always comes up.  They could spend hours in prayer together.  I have always been interested in their group.  I am fascinated by his story, as well as the power of their prayer.  My friend texted me to tell me they prayed for me one night.  Then, they asked if they could come to the hospital to pray for me.  Overwhelming YES!

What happened in that room was nothing short of divine power.  As I tried to explain it to my mom and dad, I realized that there were no words to describe the emotion, the feeling, the power that we felt as these men prayed over me and Babe.  Each of the men have their own unique spiritual gifting.  It's really fascinating, but I couldn't do it justice by explaining.  I do know that my friend's husband can often feel or see things that we don't see.  He doesn't talk about it in a way to brag or even discuss it with people that might not receive it well.  I believe what he says because I know him and I know his character.

That evening about 4-5 men and my friends oldest son (13yo) descended upon my hospital room.  I was so excited to have them in my room.  We took a few minutes for pleasantries and then we got to business praying.  Babe was at the foot of my bed and the rest of them circled around my bed.  Apart from the "feeling" I had during that prayer, two distinct things happened.   One I heard a few days later and one came to fruition after I was home.  

My friend's husband and one of his friends came back at my request to "rehash" what happened the first time.  I wanted to know what he saw or felt.  What his take away was from our time in prayer.  The most impactful thing he told me was about what his son saw and what he actually felt.  Every time they said my name his son saw fire flash behind my head.  He SAW this.  (This is a precious boy who has shown signs of possibly having the same unusual gift as his dad.  He is young and doesn't know how to interpret any of it, but gratefully has his dad to communicate with about his experiences.  For both of them I will say, the "visions" don't happen all the time or on command.  His is almost always thru the power of prayer and he takes great care to ensure that it is from God and nowhere else.)  His dad didn't know that at the time, but his dad was up by the head of the bed and he said he was sweating profusely.  Like, he had to wipe the sweat from his head while we were praying.  None of the rest of us were hot at all.  He FELT the fire his son was seeing.

The interpretation of this could possibly go anywhere.  When I asked him how he interprets what he sees, he simply states that it is thru prayer to ensure that what he interprets is true.  This is a HUGE subject and I know could be off-putting to some.  Like I said before, I know him and his character and his amazing faith that I trust him and what he has to say.  I also believe that there is a spiritual world out there that we can't see with our own eyes.  His opinion was that it was the "Refiner's Fire" mentioned in the Bible multiple times (Zechariah 13:9,  I Peter 1:7, Isaiah 48:10)

From John Piper's Desiring God:He is a refiner's fire, and that makes all the difference. A refiner's fire does not destroy indiscriminately like a forest fire. A refiner's fire does not consume completely like the fire of an incinerator. A refiner's fire refines. It purifies. It melts down the bar of silver or gold, separates out the impurities that ruin its value, burns them up, and leaves the silver and gold intact. He is like a refiner's fire.

It all left me speechless.  Whether I could SEE Him or not, the Holy Spirit was present in my room.  Take it or leave it, two experiences (seeing the fire and feeling the overwhelming heat) matched up between two different people.  What it did for me was to encourage me and use all that I am going thru to bring Glory to the Lord.  The Refiners Fire does not exist to hurt or destroy but to make better, stronger and more pure.  I knew then that I would survive this mess.  I just had to stay focused on my healer and continue to give thanks for all the blessings in my life.

I will never be the same.

God Moments: The Anatomical Details

This post turned out to be more details about my surgeries than I thought I would give ;) Be warned, its detailed and probably boring, but helping me to get my facts straight!

After Surgery #1, there was a lot of fear and uncertainty as I recall.  It still didn't occur to me that things were life-threatening.  I remember the Infectious Disease doctor explaining that I could be on antibiotics for the rest of my life.  I didn't like that at all.  What I thought about constantly was getting back home and with my boys and how long is it all going to take?  I had NO idea what was before me.

We originally thought that the infection had occurred because my open and non-healing incision had a bit of exposed mesh from a previous umbilical hernia repair.  Apparently, the mesh used is safe until exposed and can cause serious infection.  We went into surgery anticipating the removal of a piece of mesh.  But oh how things changed!

They removed the mesh without a problem, but having seen first hand the amount of infection and that it was all over my internal organs, my doctor expressed the gravity of my situation.  I am pretty sure I blocked that out or I wasn't informed because I still thought I was going home soon!  There were pockets of fluid all over my insides that had become infected. He saw an area around my duodenal stump that looked unhealthy and like a possible leak.  He tried to replicate the leak with no success.  He was very disappointed, but also reporting how much of the infection they removed...manually.  They went in with CT results in hand and removed, scrubbed and flushed my abdomen over and again to remove all the infection.  He said every organ was washed and scrubbed.  Infection. Was. Everywhere.  They closed me up feeling like the infection was hopefully resolved, but still questioning a leak.  They were not convinced the mesh caused my issues at all.

I am not sure if I don't remember Surgery #2 or if having 4, I just have them all confused.  Surgery #2 took place because via CT there were still a few pockets of fluid that could potentially become abscessed if they weren't already.  In that surgery, they found a small leak in my colon. They felt that it was always there, but so small at the time of the first surgery that it was difficult to isolate.  They also still did not like the look of the duodenal bulb and discovered a bile duct had been cut.

My new surgeon was very respectful of the previous surgeon and at least attributed the colon possibly to clamps used during surgery.  I believe that to be true, as my surgery wasn't any where close to my colon.  The other issues....the biggest issues we dealt with...I have a hard time believing it to be relating to clamping.  The bile duct was really still in question as they hadn't isolated which duct it was and if it was a smaller periphery or if it was the Common Bile Duct.  The Duodenal bulb was so unhealthy that he couldn't stitch it and still could not replicate a leak.  Bottom line, I was sick and there were still a lot of questions.  They repaired all they could, still not confident in total repair.  

Surgery #3 occurred when it did because of an excellent nurse.  It would have eventually been discovered, but she caught it early.  At one time, I had 4 drains across my abdomen.  I joked and called them my basket of eggs when I had to stand up and move.  I had to stay light-hearted as I looked like a cactus and felt like a pin cushion to the 100th degree!  All the drains were draining well except one that looked infected.  They really had their eye on that one.  I returned from a procedure and stood to walk with my nurses help.  When I sat down, something leaked out of the holes of the three healthy drains that were across my lower abdomen.  My nurse grabbed a gauze and excused herself to speak with the charge nurse.  At that moment, my surgeon walked in and said, "We have to go back in."  It was stool and it was freely moving about my abdominal cavity.  At this point, I remember feeling desperate.  We HAD to find the leak!  I was also so tired and in so much pain.  The thought of them opening up my incision for the FOURTH time (including my original surgery) just made me hurt even more.  It was a successful surgery.  They never found the leak, but knew it had to be coming from the duodenal stump.  They used a special powder that acted as a cast or super glue that would seal whatever microscopic leak there was until it could heal itself.  They also scrubbed, scrubbed and scrubbed the area where the bad drain was located and replaced that drain with a sharp eye on that area to ensure the infection was gone.

In between those surgeries were many CT's, a Hidascan, so many blood tests, other tests, at least 8 pints of blood, wound care.  Oh the wound care girls.  They were so nice, but caused more pain than I could stand.  I had to be pre-medicated when they were on their way and screaming could be heard during the dressing change.  I had to have a family member with me each time to hold my hand because it was brutal.  Pain meds didn't touch the pain.  Monday, Wednesday, Fridays were their days to visit and certainly not a part of the good things I want to remember.  BUT....those girls on the wound care team were so good, encouraged me so much and I felt so confident in their skills and my healing wound every time they came for a dressing change.  Sadly, after every surgery, we had to start all over again.  They do deserve mention because they were the girls I loved to hate, but I loved them so much for all they were doing to help me heal.