Last week I read by way of email, those dreaded words, “she found a lump”. I filed the words away because some things just can’t be true. My brother informed me that last Friday was the date of the lumpectomy, including a biopsy of her lymph nodes. Again, I couldn’t bring myself to call. No news is good news, right?

Growing up Chris and I, became permanent extensions of this family. We spent our weekdays, holidays, vacations, and sick days under her roof. She had 4 kids of her own-all older than us. They were my idols growing up…I permed my hair to look like theirs, I did my bangs big and stiff just like theirs…I memorized lyrics to the songs they loved. It was fun to be with them-and somehow they always seemed to make room for us.

She delighted in us: in all of her ‘kids’. She’s the kind of person who cries at commercials; or at a simple homemade card. She’s a person who always put herself last-and never complains. Laughter always comes easy. She makes a big deal out of seemingly little achievements. I remember, at 14 years old, standing at the top of her stairs after I found out my grandma died. I had that shell shocked sort of look-even though it was anything but a surprise. My grandma was my best friend but I wanted so badly to appear okay. That day, she did all kinds of little things to make me feel special. She knew what I needed when my heart was sad. Sick days? Throwing up? Strep Throat? All of those illnesses were remedied in part, on her couch.

Today, I bit the bullet and picked up the phone. I knew it would be okay-it had to be. And much to my relief, the news was good: the cancer is not in her lymph nodes and the surgery removed the mass, whole. She’s about to start radiation and hormone therapy but I have a feeling she’ll walk through it with the same grace she’s known for.

It had been a long time since we talked; too long when it comes to someone who means so much. And when I hung up the phone I realized there was so much I didn’t say. So this is for you, Nancy-for your heart, your strength, your tenderness and your courage.
We love you!!

..."building His kingdom with earth's broken things".

Did you know a squirrel can run 26 miles per hour? Me neither, until church this morning. We learn all kinds of glorious truth at Redeemer. :) Jim began his message this morning by saying "God has given you unique gifts that make you, you. When you do not show up, we miss you."

we miss you?

It's been a long time since I've believed that to be true when it comes to corporate worship. But this morning, sitting as one part of the whole, I could tell that he was serious; he meant what he said. He didn't look away-instead he locked eyes with some of us as if to say, it's true. I looked around the room, at many individual faces, and was struck by the fact that I knew some significant pieces of the stories represented by each person present. I could identify a gift of nearly each person my eyes rested upon. I know these things about each person not by my own merit but because we have been encouraged by those leading us to ask questions of each other, to listen, to show up. As a result, each person matters not just to our body, but to me.
We need each other. It's true.

I get scared sometimes in this new body. I don't know why. I'm praying we'll become that city on the hill. Sparkles of light all over our town and world as we launch each other out. I pray that the people who come to fill the seats in our gathering place will reflect the same people Christ ministered to while he walked among us. He's building His kingdom with earth's broken things.

So it's true that the squirrel can run 26 miles per hour. And that a chameleon's
tongue is twice the length of it's body. It's also true that I was challenged and blessed by the message today, and by those who used their gifts to lead us in worship songs, I was blessed by the art that was created during the message, and by the hugs of a sweet little girl. And that's just the beginning.



For by the grace given to me I say to every one of you: do not think of yourself more highly than you ought, but rather think of yourself with sober judgement, in accordance with the faith God has distributed to each of you. For just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we, though many, form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us. If your gift in prophesying, then prophesy in accordance with your faith; if it is serving, then serve; if it is teaching, then teach; if it is to encourage, then give encouragement; if it is giving, then give generously; if it is to lead, do it diligently; if it is to show mercy, do it cheerfully. Romans 12: 3-8

On any given day, I do the same routine assessment on each of my patients. We go over each body system...making our list of things that are in need of some tweaking with regards to meds, etc. We also spend a great deal of time talking with patients about their psychosocial/emotional/spiritual needs. Most of the time, our patients or their families could talk for hours about how they feel; in fact, often this is the part of the assessment that takes the most time. It is rare that people have little or nothing to say-which is why sometimes our experiences with the latter, can be the most profound.

A few weeks ago--or maybe even longer then that--I asked a man if he was hurting...to which he told me,'no'.
We went through each body system:
Are you eating? Having difficulty sleeping? Problems eliminating?
Again and again, he replied a simple, but profound, 'no'.
We then moved to the psychosocial/emotional/spiritual questions.
Are you anxious? fearful? sad? hopeful?
No...no...no...and, no.

Believing him to be a man of very few words and not in the mood for such an assessment, I began gathering up my things to leave him in peace. It was then, at the last minute that he whispered, with his eyes closed,
'I'm a bundle of nothing'.

I wasn't sure, at that moment, what to do or say--or even if a response on my part, was necessary. In some ways it was as if his silent thought just slipped out, unaware of the echo it would make in the small room. His few whispered words took the breath right out of me. I sat down and stared at his rising chest; his pink cheeks flushed with life. He exists; barely, but with his mind fully intact. He is existing in that lonely place where he no longer feels human: no purpose; no joy; no pain; no eating or drinking to sustain a body that will not function.
A bundle of nothing.
Or, so he states.
What, I wonder, would that be like?

No one has ever used those words before to describe this phase of life & maybe that's why his words struck me so.
There was a profound sort of truth in his simple statement and yet I wanted to tell him, 'no'. I wanted him to open his eyes. To feel. To breathe in life. I wanted to use my words to convince him-nothing, he is not.

But something told me he didn't want my words or any other feeble attempt to convince him otherwise. It might have made me feel better but my words would have likely sounded desperate and empty to him.

And so we sat, quietly, in silence. Me, lost in my thoughts about what it must be like to be him. Him, existing between breaths; between the pulsing beats of his heart; hovering above the bed yet still confined to it. Waiting for his release; unaware of how great his living presence filled the room.

a gift from kyle's parents...a little bit of happy


Tom and Marcia by the Smokeys




best buds...haha.


a toast to end my dreadful day


the sunset from our yard

Tonight was ladies night. The instructions were simple: dress in comfy clothing; bring your favorite nail polish, a bath basin for the pre-pedicure soak, and a towel.

First thing first...
get home and do a quick shave up to the knees so that if I must roll my pants up, no one will be mortified. Second: find my favorite nail polish. Quite simple, considering I have one lonely bottle...one lonely, clumpy, 3 year old bottle-which for this night only, will bare the title of 'favorite' because it has no competition. Third...the bath basin. This proved to be most challenging. Kyle and I stood in the garage and surveyed our options. There was the cooler-our red, trusty sandwich and drink toting cooler which was about the right size but I was sure I would be terribly ridiculed. Then, there was a tall tuperware container that holds all of our paint supplies. Too much trouble. We settled on a smaller tuperware bucket...it wouldn't exactly fit both of my feet at the same time but considering my options it seemed the most worthy choice.
Last but not least, i was ready to tackle the subject I am most familiar with: "wear comfy clothes".
10 minutes later, I stood before Kyle clad in my pink furry slippers; bright green hospital scrub pants, and in my beloved gray, red lettered wisconsin t-shirt. With my not-so-pedicure friendly bucket, & my expired nail polish in tow I could tell he was struck silent by the 'woman' in me.
yeah. i'm positive that's what it was.

I arrived at church and sat in the parking lot, wondering if I was at the wrong place. There were a lot of people on the main floor that I didn't know and I was beginning to second guess my wardrobe selection. I called Kyle to confirm: yes, yes, I was in the right place...which could only mean we were meeting upstairs; past the people. right, then. I got out of the car, grabbed my bucket and gave myself a silent pep talk: Walk like you are proud of the slippers; own the slippers, Megan; afterall, it IS spa night.
I ever so nonchalantly breezed through the front door, smiled, and flashed my bucket as if to say, "it's spa night, please don't judge me".
I, then, scurried upstairs.

My ladies were gathered together in a small room, pants rolled up, naked feet at the ready. There, resting in the middle of all the spa luscious activity, in the midst of yummy lotions and scrubs and high tech foot soakers...sat a blue cooler. Someone's chosen bath basin.
Suddenly, my slippers and I seemed to fit right in.

As she soaked her feet unapologetically in the cooler, I borrowed a new shade of polish and let spa night, in all of it's glory, soak in. There was a place for each of us in that small circle of ladies. Those with the high tech soakers, soaked alongside those with the buckets and the one with the cooler. :)
We were women-being women; without apology.




Today I was asked to say a few words to our church body about my experience in Ethiopia. The questions were basic; no big deal; nothing to get stressed about and yet, I had no idea how to answer a simple, simple question:

What did you learn?

Is it possible that I hesitate to answer the question honestly because in doing so I sound like a girl with no roots? Is there some sort of spiritual measuring stick that I am afraid of not measuring up to?

I remember with crystal-like clarity the moment in Ethiopia when I realized to the depth of my soul, 'we are nothing without Him'.
Nothing.
And while that may not be profound to some of you, it was to me.

In theory I should have believed that long before the trip. As profound as the truth of that statement is, it's a basic prinicple of believing in Jesus. However, despite years of calling myself 'a believer', and for as much as Scripture tells me that it's true, I have created a lifestyle for myself based on seeking the approval of others. The 'Megan' in me wants to believe I have things to offer of my own merit. But why? Why do I need to believe I have worth apart from Him? Where does that come from? Pride? Fear? Sin? Why do I strive and struggle to be someone I am not...and that I never will be?
Isn't it enough to know that I am His?

It used to bother me soooo much to hear people talk about how they, as human beings, are nothing apart from God. I didn't understand how that sort of thinking could honor Him...after all, we are His, right? It felt somehow wrong--like they were beating themselves up for something they couldn't help or even worse, that they were being falsely apologetic. I see that differently now. I'm glad we are nothing without Him. The truth of that doesn't make me feel like an unworthy, good for nothing person. On the contrary. It makes for the greatest love story ever.

I'm learning that it's hard to believe a God you don't know. It's hard to stand for anything different than the status quo when the approval of others is how one measures her worth. It's hard to know who you are, and where you're going if 'you' change depending on who you're talking to. Bottom line, I'm learning the only reason I fight to make a name for myself is because somewhere deep inside I'm not believing He is who He says He is...or that I am who He says I am. I am unwilling to trust Him because I don't know Him-I haven't spent my time alone with Him. My unbelief has been great; my heart distrusting; my time with Him undisciplined and wavering. Is it any wonder?

It took a sea of people, a crowd of upturned hands and pleading eyes, sickness beyond my comprehension to be stopped dead in my tracks with the utter realization that it's true. He is all that matters. We are not enough. I needed that illustration to be that huge-that real-for me to get it. If it would have been anything less I would have believed myself and others as capable of meeting those desperate needs. When the truth of something like that gets inside your heart, it changes everything. You can sit in a room with someone in a foreign land, without a common language, with significant cultural barriers and still relate on the most basic level.
You can breathe easier.
We are not enough.
We are children in need of a Savior.

We lack His power, His strength, His love, His grace, His compassion; & His heart by will of His great design. It is good that we are not enough...that's supposed to be freeing!! It is good that it is not about me, or acts of service, or appearances of any sort.

So maybe it's that simple. I'm learning: to be still, to spend time with Him, to believe Him, and that He is not just enough; He is exceedingly more.





(thanks morgan and duane for these photos! )