Sometimes I think about things like how when you put a Band-Aid on an owie, you don't sit around and wonder if it is healing underneath. Nope, you just trust that little piece tape and gauze to do it's job, and that job is to cover and protect the wound so it can heal. That reminds me of when we are wounded by life Jesus is the Band-Aid. I don't need to sit around worrying about whether or not he's doing his job, but trust that he is and that healing is happening.
Just like when you get a cut or a scrape it takes time to heal. I mean you can put neosporin on the wound to help it along, but still it can take days, months or years. Even after the wound has healed it may start itching again tempting you to scratch it open and start the whole process over again. The best thing to do is just be thankful for the Band-Aid doing it's job and leave the wound alone with the band-aid to heal. You can't undo it, you can't run away from it, it just has to go through the process.
At 36 I really didn't think I'd be recovering from a wound like this. I thought I would be smart enough to pull the band-aid out of the box myself, but sometimes we need help. Sometimes the wound is so great you can't even look at it until it's covered by the band-aid. That's where i'm at today. The band-aid is on. I'm so tempted to rip it off and scratch that itchy healing owie, but I can't. I want nothing more than complete healing.
So there you are. Jesus is my Band-Aid. The Holy Spirit is my Neosporin, and the Father is the one who puts them both on. This is where the healing begins.
Tuesday, January 20, 2015
Thursday, January 15, 2015
January 13-15, 2004
It didn't rain that day. I remember the sun was shining, and unseasonably there were still two foxgloves clinging to life outside her window. She lay in her rec room, which had been converted into a bedroom, in some kind of state between this life and the next.
I had been awake for hours. Preparing to feed my toddler and get my Kindergartener out the door to school on time. Before I left I went to wash my mother's face. In an exhausted stupor I got the water too hot but when I placed it on her face she didn't move. I called one of our hospice ladies and she came to sit with mom while I took Haylee to class.
When I returned the nurse told me my mother was dying. These were her final hours, and even though I knew they were coming, something in me refused to acknowledge it. I called my brothers and sister to let them know what was happening. I don't remember who or how but someone came and took my children. I sat by her bed from that point on. My older sister joined me and we sat there vigilantly waiting for her to wake up. Since I had taken CNA courses I had to administer her meds and bathe her. This is the hardest thing I've ever done, to see my perfect mother broken and helpless this way.
The three moments that stand out most for me over the next two nights she rallied were: once she sat straight up looked right into the eyes of myself, my niece, and my sister and said, "oh you're here, well then I guess its ok to go." I remember my sister reading her the end of a book she had called Shepard's Abiding, and I remember that I got to hear her last words. This is my favorite memory.
Three years before that moment my mom let my family of four move in with her to take care of her. Every day she would tell me she wanted the same thing for breakfast, "Just a piece of toast with a little bit of peanut butter... lot of butter."
She ate that almost every day for the 22 years of my life I could remember so eventually I would tease her about it.
"What mom, you want an omelette? Steak and eggs? You got it."
My other answer was, " I know mom, I know."
So there we were... in her room...sun shining through the window down on her bed while I held her hand and sobbed to her, "Mom, I just want you to know that I love you so much!" She replied...
"I know, I know." Those were her very last words. They are precious to me.
That woman was my world. She was my best friend and my biggest critic. She was the most gentle and fierce woman I ever knew. She was crazy at times, imperfectly perfect, artistic, a lover of books and music. She was the most loving human being I ever knew. She was my mama.
I miss her so much. I am sad my children will never get to know her the way I did. I know i'm not the only one who lost her. I'm not the only one to lose a mother even, and I know i'm not the only one who hurts that she is no longer with us in person.
She loved her sons. She loved her daughters. She loved her nieces and she adored her grandchildren. She was 4'11' and I loved being taller than her. Now my kids, and everyone else's kids, love boasting when they are taller than me. I pretend to be annoyed, but really I love it. I think secretly my mom loved it too.
I had been awake for hours. Preparing to feed my toddler and get my Kindergartener out the door to school on time. Before I left I went to wash my mother's face. In an exhausted stupor I got the water too hot but when I placed it on her face she didn't move. I called one of our hospice ladies and she came to sit with mom while I took Haylee to class.
When I returned the nurse told me my mother was dying. These were her final hours, and even though I knew they were coming, something in me refused to acknowledge it. I called my brothers and sister to let them know what was happening. I don't remember who or how but someone came and took my children. I sat by her bed from that point on. My older sister joined me and we sat there vigilantly waiting for her to wake up. Since I had taken CNA courses I had to administer her meds and bathe her. This is the hardest thing I've ever done, to see my perfect mother broken and helpless this way.
The three moments that stand out most for me over the next two nights she rallied were: once she sat straight up looked right into the eyes of myself, my niece, and my sister and said, "oh you're here, well then I guess its ok to go." I remember my sister reading her the end of a book she had called Shepard's Abiding, and I remember that I got to hear her last words. This is my favorite memory.
Three years before that moment my mom let my family of four move in with her to take care of her. Every day she would tell me she wanted the same thing for breakfast, "Just a piece of toast with a little bit of peanut butter... lot of butter."
She ate that almost every day for the 22 years of my life I could remember so eventually I would tease her about it.
"What mom, you want an omelette? Steak and eggs? You got it."
My other answer was, " I know mom, I know."
So there we were... in her room...sun shining through the window down on her bed while I held her hand and sobbed to her, "Mom, I just want you to know that I love you so much!" She replied...
"I know, I know." Those were her very last words. They are precious to me.
That woman was my world. She was my best friend and my biggest critic. She was the most gentle and fierce woman I ever knew. She was crazy at times, imperfectly perfect, artistic, a lover of books and music. She was the most loving human being I ever knew. She was my mama.
I miss her so much. I am sad my children will never get to know her the way I did. I know i'm not the only one who lost her. I'm not the only one to lose a mother even, and I know i'm not the only one who hurts that she is no longer with us in person.
She loved her sons. She loved her daughters. She loved her nieces and she adored her grandchildren. She was 4'11' and I loved being taller than her. Now my kids, and everyone else's kids, love boasting when they are taller than me. I pretend to be annoyed, but really I love it. I think secretly my mom loved it too.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
My Name Is Leslie Reed
Good Evening,
My name is Leslie Reed. I am 36 years old, the mother of 2 darling daughters, married 17 years to my high school sweetheart. I have a chocolate lab, two cats, and a 900 sq. ft. house with one bathroom and four dishwashers. I have a nice big backyard covered in mud currently due to the rainy season (and the dog).
I was born to my parents in Tacoma, Washington on what I can bet was a gray afternoon in September of 1978. I weighed 2 and 1/2 lbs. and lived in an incubator for the first week of my life. I came into this world dearly loved by some and hated by one.
I remember as a young child being fascinated with the world around me. I had a vivid imagination with which I would entertain myself for hours on end. I loved my family. Especially when they were happy. I remember my world mainly as bright and cheerful for a good long time. 3 years exactly
My mother used to tell me the story of a time when I slipped out of the house at 3 years old only to be found 3 blocks away in a field sleeping surrounded by the neighbor dogs. I was brave and adventurous. Then something happened to me. Someone I loved proved untrustworthy and unsafe.
I really want to tell you all of this story, but I can't. Too many people's integrity and emotions would suffer. I really want to tell you all of this story so I can tattle on the one who hates me. I want you to know about the depravity that ravaged my life as a child so that you could understand what a miracle it is that I still chose to love Jesus Christ. What a miracle it is that i'm even alive.
I want to tell you about the destiny i'm certain my enemy wishes I would have fallen into that was only avoided by the redemption of a God that cares for me. I want to tell you so badly about the depths to which i've sunk so that you will know the price that was paid for my life to be ransomed specifically.
Instead I will share this with you tonight... some have had it worse than me... some better either way we share a common enemy and he has a goal. That goal is to steal our joy, kill our hearts, and destroy our hope. The truth is that he is a liar and a thief and a cheater and he is loudest when throwing an unholy fit usually right before something awesome is coming, and something is coming.
Someone actually. A Savior has come to give us abundant life with whatever may be left of it. He has come to give us hope, joy, and love to the fullest extent it can be experienced. He is greater than the one in the world and has given us a great testimony to live out from wherever we may stand.
My name is Leslie Reed. I am 36 years old, the mother of 2 darling daughters, married 17 years to my high school sweetheart. I have a chocolate lab, two cats, and a 900 sq. ft. house with one bathroom and four dishwashers. I have a nice big backyard covered in mud currently due to the rainy season (and the dog).
I was born to my parents in Tacoma, Washington on what I can bet was a gray afternoon in September of 1978. I weighed 2 and 1/2 lbs. and lived in an incubator for the first week of my life. I came into this world dearly loved by some and hated by one.
I remember as a young child being fascinated with the world around me. I had a vivid imagination with which I would entertain myself for hours on end. I loved my family. Especially when they were happy. I remember my world mainly as bright and cheerful for a good long time. 3 years exactly
My mother used to tell me the story of a time when I slipped out of the house at 3 years old only to be found 3 blocks away in a field sleeping surrounded by the neighbor dogs. I was brave and adventurous. Then something happened to me. Someone I loved proved untrustworthy and unsafe.
I really want to tell you all of this story, but I can't. Too many people's integrity and emotions would suffer. I really want to tell you all of this story so I can tattle on the one who hates me. I want you to know about the depravity that ravaged my life as a child so that you could understand what a miracle it is that I still chose to love Jesus Christ. What a miracle it is that i'm even alive.
I want to tell you about the destiny i'm certain my enemy wishes I would have fallen into that was only avoided by the redemption of a God that cares for me. I want to tell you so badly about the depths to which i've sunk so that you will know the price that was paid for my life to be ransomed specifically.
Instead I will share this with you tonight... some have had it worse than me... some better either way we share a common enemy and he has a goal. That goal is to steal our joy, kill our hearts, and destroy our hope. The truth is that he is a liar and a thief and a cheater and he is loudest when throwing an unholy fit usually right before something awesome is coming, and something is coming.
Someone actually. A Savior has come to give us abundant life with whatever may be left of it. He has come to give us hope, joy, and love to the fullest extent it can be experienced. He is greater than the one in the world and has given us a great testimony to live out from wherever we may stand.
From The Depths of The Pit....
I love the darkness, especially on a cool summer evening all wrapped up in a blanket on the patio. I love when Greg and the kids and I sit out there waiting patiently for the sky to blacken, because somewhere in that darkness, one at a time little lights appear until there is a glorious blanket of stars across the sky. One interesting thing though, they don't just sit there. They move. Some of them shoot across the sky dissolving like a snowflake in the process. Why the fascination with the darkness? Because I know that sometimes God allows us to enter into places of darkness or into a desert season so that we will hear Him more clearly. I'm in the middle of one now. I'm trying to get out as fast as I can, but in the meantime He is doing a work in me. He's taking me to a new level of faith, one I didn't think I needed.
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