Phobias bring nightmares, and that’s something we have a lot of in our house, especially with Bean.

We’ve found that praying with her usually helps calm her, so that’s what I did last night around midnight when she was in a tizzy over the ‘voices’ (bubbles from the humidifier). When we finished praying though, she asked (drumroll, please)

“Mama, can God stay with me tonight?”

There are some pretty high-profile mommy-bloggers on a missions trip to Uganda right now - like BooMama and Rocks In My Dryer, along with several others in their team. I’ve been reading through their posts about their time on the mission field, and the comments people are leaving on their blogs.

I won’t go into the amazing things God is doing through them - you’ll have to go read about it yourself on their blogs, and I do encourage you to do so.  What struck me though - other than the awesome stories they share - is how many commenters insist on calling these men and women ‘brave’ and ‘courageous’ for what they’re doing (or in other words, for letting God do things through them). You can see Shanon’s take on it here, and then even after she admits that it doesn’t have a lot to do with courage, commenters continue to call her courageous and brave.

So what’s the problem with that? She left everything to go on a brief trip around the world, leave behind everything familiar, and entrust her children to be looked after while she was gone. That sounds courageous, doesn’t it? But let me ask you this. What’s really courageous about it? She’s facing her fears first of all. But that’s about it. And really, that just amounts to choosing to place her faith in Someone she can trust, rather than in worries and changing circumstances.

There’s a misconception that home is synonymous with safe, and Uganda (or Moldova or Bangladesh or anything else foreign) is synonymous with danger. After all, lions and tigers and bears - oh my! We’re afraid of what we don’t know, and that fear translates into an assumption of danger. But the fact is, safety is an illusion. There is nowhere our safety is guaranteed. There is nowhere we can feel sure of our safety. I could just as easily keel over from a brain aneurysm at home in front of my TV or get hit by a drunk driver and never make it home, as anyone else on the mission field could be overtaken by some unexpected tragedy. Safety is actually no more than God giving you one more breath to breathe. One more day to enjoy His creation. And He’s just as likely to provide it at home as He is somewhere else.  He is the same yesterday, today, and forever, and He is the same in the US, Uruguay, and Uganda.  Safety is an illusion we give ourselves in an effort to feel self-sufficient, independent. There’s less need for faith when we believe in an illusion of safety.

As for this team serving in Uganda, what they really have doesn’t have a lot to do with bravery or courage. It’s faith (or at least it seems that way from what they’ve been writing). They have faith that God will protect their families while they’re away. They have faith that God will keep their puddle-jumping airplanes in the air. They have faith that He will give them safety in the midst of vipers, unclean water supplies, and a host of other concerns. They have that faith because they know Him for who He is - the ultimate provider of their safety. The Creator of the heavens and the earth. The all-powerful, ever loving Healer, Sustainer, and Lord of all creation.

It irks me when people comment about the immense ‘courage’ of missionaries.  It’s not about courage. It’s about a conscious decision to place your faith in the One you know will not disappoint. It’s about choosing to have faith in the most Faithful One. And it’s about knowing that in all reality, He is sovereign, regardless of where you are.  After all, is anything too hard for the Lord?

Little Man has his next MRI tomorrow morning. That means fasting from 4AM, with no clear liquids after 8AM. Hate that. But what I hate worse is the IV anesthetic. Thankfully I have a wonderful hubby who canceled a business trip so that I wouldn’t have to do this alone.

1 Peter 3:7 says something about the wife being the ‘weaker’ partner in the marriage. I’m tempted to take offense at that, but on days like this, I take great comfort in the fact that I have hubbs’ strong shoulder to lean on, and I have the freedom to be weak.  It really is an awesome concept.

And really, once we get through the inserting of the IV in Little Man’s rolling veins (I’m praying that they get it on the first stick), the next big hurdle is waiting for the phone call from the neurosurgeon. I’m thinking we’ll hear something in 2 days - on Valentine’s Day. I’m not too worried - he’s been developing well, growing well, and his head growth has slowed down into the normal range. His seizures have stopped, and he seems mostly like any normal 2-yr old.

God is good. I’m just hoping and praying He amazes the doctors tomorrow with His goodness - may they all be shockede at the overwhelming good results from the MRI!

The in-laws. Yet another post about the in-laws. My entire life right now seems like a drawn-out episode of Everybody Loves Raymond. On steroids. Sure, there are good things too, like free babysitters for date nights and help with tedious household tasks like mopping and scrubbing toilets. But right now, my biggest struggle is for sanity. I’m working on narrowing down ways to regain my sanity. I think they go something like this:

• Wisdom is knowing what to ignore (and actually ignoring it)
• If a comment really hurts, look first to your own pride to figure out why (ouch!)
• Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things. For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God. (Col. 3:1-3)

Maybe if I can concentrate more on those things and less on the situations that bring stress, I’ll stop giving this baby in my belly an emotional roller coaster… And maybe my sanity won’t be a casualty of our new living arrangement. Just maybe…

(Conversation today with 3-year old Bean)

“Mama, where’s God?”

“He’s in heaven, but the great thing is, He’s with us at the same time. You can talk to Him any time you want.”

“Okay. I want to talk to Him. Will you pray with me?”

“Nah, why do something silly like that?” (Just kidding! You know I said yes!)  And her prayer went like this:

Dear God, Please bring the snow. Then Santa will come. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

I don’t know if she was praying in Jesus’ name or if Santa’s going to come in Jesus’s name. Let’s hope the former.

Apparently, hubbs and I could be driving a Rolls Royce. If only we’d gone the way of pastoring a prosperity gospel church instead of some quaint, conservative church plant in who-knows-where. Darn. Guess we missed the boat on that one.

Referring to his over $3 mill. salary, luxury cars, and extravagant lifestyle, Rev. Dollar (yes, that’s really his name!) says “Just because it’s excessive doesn’t mean it’s wrong.” Anyone? Thoughts?

There’s been an ongoing debate through Christian history on this very issue (of course, Rolls Royces would be a recent addition to the debate). There are battling sides - one that says God rewards the faithful with material pleasures. The other tends to be more monastic, giving up worldly goods to free themselves to fully serve Him. I don’t expect the debate to come to an abrupt end, but which one is it? Is Rev. Dollar’s Rolls a reward from God for his faithful ministry? Or should we be seeking out treasures in heaven rather than on earth?

Liam was born in December 2005 with a pretty big head (”Look at that gargantuan cranium! It’s like an orange on a toothpick!” Know the movie?). We weren’t surprised - his big sister had a big head too. But at 10 months old his pediatrician noticed that his head was growing much faster than the normal rate, and the rest of his body had nearly stopped growing altogether. At CT scan at that point found nothing.

In June of 2007 Liam had his first seizure. A CT scan at the ER was clear (or so it was interpreted). The seizures continued through the summer, getting worse by September. After multiple EEGs and an MRI, he was found to have a benign brain tumor. At that time he was also placed on anti-epileptic medication, which has - thankfully - controlled the seizures. As of yet, we still don’t know if the seizures and the tumor are related - they could be entirely independent of each other.

The neurosurgeon decided that tumor is too small to incur the risks of brain surgery, so now we wait. And we test. Several times a year Liam will have an MRI to monitor the tumor’s growth. And in the meantime, we praise God for His provision and guidance through this.

How do we feel about it? We know that God placed something in Liam’s head that most people don’t have. We won’t say that it shouldn’t be there. It wasn’t a mistake, or a punishment, or a curse. It’s a blessing. We may not understand it fully, but somehow and for some reason, God chose to bless our Liam with a small, benign brain tumor. We are eternally thankful that the tumor is benign, and that it’s small. We have complete faith and trust that if God put this in Liam’s head, He’ll be the one to guide us through treatment options. We have complete faith that God loves Liam even more than we do, and for that we are thankful. We are also thankful that He is in control of the situation. As the Almighty creator, sustainer, and healer, we know that He is faithful to Liam and to us.

We covet your prayers for Liam as we walk this road:

• That the seizures would stop and he’d be able to wean off the medication
• That the tumor would not grow
• That MRI’s would go smoothly without any complications due to anesthesia
• That his team of doctors would be blessed with wisdom and discernment
• That we - as his parents - would have the wisdom to shepherd his heart and give him coping skills as he learns about the ways that God made him special
• That this situation would edify and not tear down his relationship with his big sister and baby brother

I’ve been walking a hard road lately. For those of you who are new here, my 21-month old son, Liam, has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. And epilepsy too. They may or may not be related. Thankfully the tumor is benign, and seems to be operable. So I’m walking him down the road to brain surgery. And every time they do an IV or draw blood I ache for him. He doesn’t understand why he has to be poked, prodded, and stuck. And nothing I do will make the hurt go away.

The first thing I lost was self-reliance. It’s hard to let go of. I’m used to being able to do things myself, fix things myself… But there are some things I can’t do. And it forces me to depend on the One who shapes the mountains and sets the stars in the sky. And that’s a good thing.

My next source for someone to depend on? Hubby. In all my emotionalism, he’s the one who stands firm. He helps me put things in perspective. But when Liam’s diagnosis came, he was in Moscow. I wondered why God would give me this news while I was alone. But it hit me like a rock, almost instantly. Because my husband can’t be my rock. There’s only one Rock of my foundation, and He can’t be replaced. And in the days that my hubby was gone, I learned the hard way how to depend only on Him.

As if I wasn’t lonely enough, my best friend closed on her house that week and left for Texas. With her 4 girls - two of whom are my kids’ best friends. And I wondered again, why, Lord, now? And the answer came back. Again. Kathy, my sweet child, so you’ll depend on Me. And dependence on Me will be exactly what you need.

It worked. With my ever-familiar crutches gone. I learned to depend on Him like never before. And it was indeed sweet. Have you ever tasted wild grapes? The kind that no one cares for? They flower. They’re full of color. They’re beautiful. But often dry and bitter. If you want sweet, juicy grapes, they have to be pruned. The flowers removed. Shoots trimmed off - even productive ones sometimes. The good has to make way for the great.

Our first trial - coping with seizures and the news of a tumor - is done. And we’ve come through it weaker - that is, knowing our weakness more fully and depending on a source of strength greater than we’ve ever known. But that is exactly how we become strong. It is also where God is glorified. Tomorrow we meet the neurosurgeon. I don’t know what to expect, but I’m very happy that I’ve tested how to rely on God alone. I’ve figured out that I can trust Him when circumstances are hard. And that will carry me through what’s to come.

A few people have asked me for specific prayer requests. That gets hard, because it means being real about what’s going on and how I feel about it. But here it is:

• That I’d be able to cling to the following verses, which hit at the heart of my biggest struggle:
  • Take every thought captive to Christ (2 Cor. 10:5)
  • Do not worry about tomorrow, for today is enough (Matt. 6:34)
• Physical strength. The exhaustion is intense.
• He has a 24-hour EEG tomorrow. We’re praying that his brain would show seizure activity (so they can figure out if the seizures are related to the tumor), but without him actually having a physical seizure (which would mean medicating him more strongly).
• That God would use this situation to glorify His name; and that He’d grant us the privilege of giving Him the glory.
• I fully believe that God has great plans to heal my little boy, but join us in praying that Liam would be strong and resilient to cope with and recover from what he’s about to go through.
• That hubby and I would be his comfort and lead him well down the road through trials and on to recovery. Though the road may be rocky, let us guide Liam’s steps, keeping our eyes firmly on the Solid Rock of our foundation.
• That all the mess we’re going through would yield eternal fruit.

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing;
Our helper He, amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing:
For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe;
His craft and power are great, and, armed with cruel hate,
On earth is not his equal.

Did we in our own strength confide, our striving would be losing;
Were not the right Man on our side, the Man of God’s own choosing:
Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He;
Lord Sabaoth, His Name, from age to age the same,
And He must win the battle.

And though this world, with devils filled, should threaten to undo us,
We will not fear, for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us:
The Prince of Darkness grim, we tremble not for him;
His rage we can endure, for lo, his doom is sure,
One little word shall fell him.

That word above all earthly powers, no thanks to them, abideth;
The Spirit and the gifts are ours through Him Who with us sideth:
Let goods and kindred go, this mortal life also;
The body they may kill: God’s truth abideth still,
His kingdom is forever.

Martin Luther, 1529