oh, in the beginning, when you were alone,
did you dream of someone like me?
in the beginning, from soil and stone,
when you breathed out a world to be...

did you dream a great dream,
did it glisten and gleam,
for all of the angels to see?

in the beginning, in the depths of your heart,
were you thinking, already,
of me?

-Steven James

It's been one of those weeks already. The kind where I wish I could crawl on his lap; hear his laughter; place my head on his chest to feel the beating of his heart. I hunger for tangible love: eyes that smile and hands that move.

We started a conversation in church on Sunday. We talked about a God who welcomes the vagabond home and how he covers us with His grace and hungers for our real, imperfect hearts. Near the end of church, one brave young woman shared pieces of her heart. Her voice became broken and her head fell into her hands. She couldn't see how beautiful she was in those moments with her heart so exposed and vulnerable. I don't even know if she noticed how her vulnerablity gave others in the room, permission to do the same.

Christ with skin on...that's what we crave some times. A young voice in the back of the room; a beating heart; hands that move.

Vagabonds and prodigals; imperfect hearts.

And yet, He dreams of me.

Few in number, but mighty in strength! :) Some of our kids from church did a service project at Appalachian Christian Camp. They did a great job; such a big hearts!



Recently, I met a middle aged man who was diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s Disease) 5 years ago. He is dependent on a ventilator because he lost his ability to swallow and protect his airway a long time ago. Today, the only muscles he has any control of is the ability to move his eyes and blink but even that is becoming difficult. One of the most devastating things about ALS is that while the muscles of the body atrophy, the mind stays fully intact.

The day I met him I was a nervous wreck. I know little about ventilators and because of that, I get a bit freaked out by them. Most of our patients are able to communicate with us and those who are unable, typically have some sort of dementia. It feels awkward to talk ‘to’ someone instead of ‘with’ someone. You become acutely aware of your tone…of the pauses…of how ridiculous certain things sound when you’re using words as fillers instead of as a genuine means to connect; which is a lesson in and of itself.

When I walked into his room, I found him sitting up in his wheel chair. There was high tech equipment all over the place-including the very chair he was sitting in so the intimidation factor grew exponentially in those first few minutes. I walked over to him and introduced myself. His wife and a caregiver watched us from the couch. My hands were shaking-I hoped I was the only one who noticed but even if he did, he smiled…his eyes squinted up just a little and the corners of his mouth followed suit. I laughed and said “I’m just going to be honest here…you can probably teach me waaaaay more then I could ever teach you.” And there is was again…a tiny hint of a smile. Yeah, he noticed; he was on to me from the second I walked through the door. ;)

I watched as his wife picked up the communication board. She stood in front of him, pointing at letters, her fingers flying across the board. He communicates by blinking to spell out words. (you have to observe him closely to actually see the ‘blink’ because it’s more like a tiny squint that is sometimes hard to catch.) It was amazing.

Still trying to overcome my bundle of nerves, I asked for the board and had her give me a quick lesson. Then I turned to him and said “alright, consider yourself challenged…give me a word, any word!", and we began to converse.

It was the most exhilarating thing in the world-which I know sounds crazy but it was incredible. He spelled out c-i-g-a-r, which I thought was funny. Next thing I knew we were placing a cigar soaked in scotch into the side of his mouth. He can’t suck on it but he loves it. ALS has got nothing on this guy.

Before I left, with the cigar dangling out of the corner of his cheek, he spelled out “come again tomorrow and we can party”.

And there you have it, I have the greatest job in the world.

Aimee's Story
More Stories of Courage

One day recently I found myself watching Oprah when Fastasia was a guest. I absolutely love this girl and at the end of the show she sang "I'm here" from the Color Purple. I read the book, I saw the movie...and it resonated in so many ways but nothing compared to how I felt when I watched this performance. There I sat, all alone on my couch, glued to the TV, and as she got to those last few lines of the song, there I was, crying right along with her. I wonder if it's the same in living rooms all around the country...or if there's something wrong with me? ;) Anyway, I loved it so much that I went straight from the couch to my computer, to do a search about taking a trip to New York while she's still performing.

My good friend Luke, who also wants to be a black, soul singing, hip shakin powerhouse, listened graciously as I shared my cathartic Oprah experience. He ever so kindly put her performance on his blog so that I could get a little fix every now and then. (you're the best, Luka!) He was over last night doing laundry and we watched her -- while I cried, yet again. :) Admit it Luke, you were holding back tears--I could see it!! And while I completely love the rendition he has posted, I found my Oprah moment today and decided to share it too. If you get a chance to hop over to his blog click on a tab at the top that has something about performances on it...that will take you to many more listening treasures.

I'm serious about the trip. I think I might do whatever is necessary to get there. Kyle's in, even though I don't think he's quite as desperate to see the Color Purple on Broadway as I am. He's always a good sport! Marcia? Jacs? Luke? Any other broadway lovers? Allison, this obviously excludes you since you fast forward through the songs of every musical we've ever watched together. ;)

I stole this from Kyle because I love it so much. He did a video for Tina Wilson who is an AMAZING photographer in this area (second only to Rebecca Marr!!) It makes me happy; thought some of you peeps who are far away might enjoy a peek at his work. make sure the speakers are on! hope all is well!!




Redeemer Olympics!!

Yes, that's right. Today after church we went to the Fooshee's for a little friendly competition. We divided up into teams of 5-6 and spent the afternoon doing three legged races, sack races, balloon tosses and much, much more. It was a really fun afternoon in spite of the sweltering heat. I thought I would post a few pics and I'll try to add a link to the right if anyone who was there wants to see.

We redefine carb loading. The athletes load up before the big games. mmmmm. mmmmm. good.


Our fearless leaders!! (1/2 of our team)



the balloon toss


our cheerleading section




carry your baby...our team gets a point for having the biggest baby! We'll take whatever points we can get!


the thrill of victory





Jim, still celebrating after everyone's moved on...


10 minutes later--arms up--stiiiilll celebrating! ;)


my favorite pic of the day.
sooo funny.


the other 1/2 of our team; pridefully wearing our 'no, you're not a loser, everyone's a winner, medals"





Happy Birthday Chris!!! We miss you!
Chris and Lara just moved to Boulder--which Kyle and I are super jealous about. BUT, my husband is already planning a ski trip so I guess we'll get a few perks from the new move! Chris, if you read this, have a 'cocktail' for us...Kyle suggests a black and tan. :) SEND PICTURES! We're dying to see the new place! (and besides, this is about the only recent picture I have of you & it's years old--with the exception of the "muppet picture" which has already been posted once, to your chagrin.)



Also, I was a bad friend and forgot to wish Allison and Natalie happy birthdays. Natalie is 1 year old aleady...how is that possible?! Allison came up to visit Monday night and crashed here with Natalie so I get to post a couple pictures! It was my first time meeting Natalie and it had been years since Allison and I were last together. Allison was one of the greatest gifts ever from my Milligan days. I honestly don't know if I would have made it through college without her...it certainly wouldn't have been half as fun or entertaining. As we sat on my couch Monday night eating ice cream and oreos I felt that not a minute had passed since our days as room-mates. She's one of my favorite people in the whole world.

Thanks for coming Allison! We loved seeing you...& we're SO glad that you're living within driving distance again!!

When I read a story, I like for it to come full circle. I love symmetry; a good lesson threaded throughout; closure; the satisfactory exhale.

At work on Friday, a few of us were talking before going our separate ways for the day. We were having a heart to heart, on our feet, in the middle of the office. Mostly, we were replaying some events that had taken place during some of our visits the day before. As we shared, I noticed that I was having a hard time putting my experience into words. My sentences would trail off into unfinished thoughts. Someone was always there to pick up where I left off-morphing our individual experiences into something we could all collectively understand. Our disjointed conversation took us in and out of various homes. It was obvious to me, as I fumbled for my words, that I was still trying to figure out why I had a need to share-not fully understanding what it was about this one particular visit that had me still 'lingering'.

Because I like stories that come full circle, it's hard for me to write (or talk) about things that may ultimately feel unfinished. I'd like to package my thoughts up nicely-with the ah-ha, 'thanks for reading', moment at the end but I'm afraid this time, I've got nothing. :) So, this is my disclaimer for those that may be along for the ride. This story is what it is; an unfinished thought-a reflection.



Thursday
I walked in and made my way down the hallway, announcing myself as I went along. Normally the home is busy with activity, & the patient rests quietly while those around her do the talking. She smiles; she tells us she’s coping well; she denies pain. Today, she was alone in her bedroom, tucked away on the backside of the house.

I wasn’t even through the doorway of her room and already I could tell the pace and tone with which she was calling to me was desperate and sad. She told me she’d had a rough morning. She tried to nonchalantly nod off her tears as ‘a little spell’ but the tears kept coming.

I crawled onto the bed beside her. She continued to speak, and the tears fell one after another. Her words literally poured from her, filling the room. She clung to my hands. It felt so desperate—her mannerisms; the language and the emotion.

She doesn’t want to die but she knows that she is.
Her daughters keep talking as if she’s going to get better so she smiles and fights for each day and then feels like a failure when she just can’t ‘go’ anymore. She’s scared; for her and for them. She believes, but now when she needs to feel Him most, she feels beyond His grasp-outside His love; abandoned and terrified. ‘Why wont He save me?’

It’s a surreal experience to watch someone desperately cry out to God, ‘Save me’, as death lingers at the doorway. In my two years with hospice, every single time I’ve heard a patient cry those words out to God, the patient has died. Not one, has been ‘saved’.

I think about that as I watch her cry, wishing I could say the things she wants me to. I can’t tell her that I think she’ll get better. I don’t even like to talk about physical healing with our patients anymore-in fact, as she references these very things I feel everything alarm inside me. I know that although He is able to deliver her from this disease, it will likely play out as it has in every home I’ve been in before. One day, and probably soon, no matter how hard she fights against it, she’ll close her eyes and take that last breath.

have I become a skeptic? It's really not a faith issue. The alarms that go off inside me are not so much related to believing God is able but out of a deep and genuine concern that the person will not make the most of the time he or she has left. In these homes where the mantra is "I will get better", families tip toe around the disease, things that need to be said become regrets, and healing on every other level is dwarfed.

I asked her if I could pray with her and she looked at me, startled. Still weeping, she said, “You’ll pray for…me? I didn’t know you could do that.” I explained it’s one of our favorite things to do. And so we prayed. We breathed Him in.

He hears her. I know that He does. That’s the only reason I can bear to see her tears. It's breaking His heart too. Watching her cry and plead leaves this knot of nausea in my stomach--because I know she's scared and I wish we could make it less so. I want her to feel Him in the dark. I believe that today, in this home, on this bed, He’s there, holding her hand. He sees why all of this is necessary; and I would imagine, her tears shine fresh in His eyes.

It was the same in the garden & on the cross. The desperate pleas, the piercing cry:
“Father, all things are possible for you; remove this cup for Me, yet not my will but yours be done”. And then from the cross, “My God, My God, why hast thou forsaken me?”

If anyone understands, He does.
at the end of the day, in all of those bedrooms, that's all I want each patient to know.
it's okay to rest; to say good-bye; to cry.
The miracle has already been done.


I'm reading a book right now entitled Hebron Journal, by Art Gish. It was recommended to me by our friend, Paul, who is presently volunteering with Peace Brigades International. The men and women in such groups are trained to go into areas of intense conflict to provide peaceful accompaniment/presence to those who are threatened as they try to carry out humanitarian efforts or to those who are oppressed; simply trying to go about their daily lives.

Art Gish writes that those in his team stand on the side of whomever the gun is pointed at. I'm discovering that sometimes this is literally true. This type of presence involves intense relationships with all sides of the conflict. They work with both Israeli's and Palestinian's.

I know even as I write this, using words like nonviolent peacemaking-stirs something in people's souls. I'm guessing that many people might not even read another word because it doesn't bode well with them. It's true that the author's insights are at times different then my own, and in my opionion, this is all the more reason to read!! I'm curious. I want to know what he has to say, afterall, here was there, on the streets, in the middle of intense conflict, putting his life on the line. Here in lies the whole point of the book: Listen. Lay it all aside and take it in, digest it.

There is much I do not understand. I confess almost total ignorance with regards to the complicated conflict that takes place in these specific regions. But one day recently, I asked Paul if he would recommend a book that I could read to 'open my eyes' and this is the book he suggested. He said he relates to many things the author describes...which is sobering and heart breaking to say the least.

Art begins his book by writing:
...When we engage in serious dialogue across the lines of culture, gender, class, race, and religion, our whole beings are challenged. As we listen to each other and engage in deep conversation with those who are different from us, we have to either grow or retreat. When this happens in the context of putting our very lives on the line, the possibilities for growth are greatly increased. With all the conflicts everywhere around us, the opportunities for engagement are everywhere. We can retreat and put up walls of defense, or we can engage in difficult conversation and struggle with those who are called our enemies, with those who are different. To engage in the struggle, armed only with faith, hope and love, is a wonderful opportunity. It is too good to turn down.

This world is not so big. Opportunities for engagement happen every day to varying degrees no matter where you live. I can't imagine standing in front of someone knowing I may bear the bullet that was intended for them. I can't imagine hearing gunshots and fighting and running into the heart of the conflict. I can't imagine initiating conversation with someone who is hot with anger and rage. And yet, people do this very thing every day. They go to prison; people spit in their face; they are called every kind of obscinity.

I'm not paul and it is probably most unlikely that I will ever find myself in similar shoes but his testimony and that of this book challenges me to listen. To ask questions; to seek understanding. I'm beginning to see why the news is littered with stories about Palestinian suicide bombers; I also am beginning to understand the sufferings of the Israeli settlers. Both sides are wounded which is something we all know a thing or two about.

What makes me bristle? Who is difficult to love? Wounded people exist within my community; my church; my family. It's just a reminder to listen and to engage. To 'put on love'.

I can't imagine that Paul will ever read this but if you do, please pray for him.


HAPPY BIRTHDAY LORI!!

We hope you are having the happiest birthday ever-and that your day is nausea free! ;) It was SO good to see you this past weekend. We love getting to hang out with you guys any chance we get. Give our girl a little love from us...
wishing you the best!!




Happy Birthday Mama Kitty!!

First and foremost, a shout out to wish mom a happy birthday! Happy birthday Mom! Wish we could be there to celebrate with you. I want to see you in your celebrity, hot mama glasses. ;)
Mom had eye surgery last week, and let me just tell you, I could blog an entire entry on that alone. Too funny. The anesthesiologists could NOT knock her out...which is pretty amazing for someone who's 90 pounds soaking wet. Rumor has it, the doctor would come back in the room after giving her the sedatives and he'd hear "I'm stilllll here...". And then once the clamp was in place--holding her eye WIDE open...her eye was equally as obstinate and wouldn't be still. It jerked and jumped all over the place. Ohhh, mom...the stories.

We had such a good weekend with Kyle's family. Sometimes little, impromptu trips are the best. We were terrible and didn't take hardly any pictures of the family or of Riley but she's beautiful and growing so fast! The BIG news of the weekend?!? Kyle and I are going to be an aunt and uncle for the second time!! Yay! Another little one to love! Congratulations you guys. We love you!!



a more serious side of our girl...eating playdoh.


tom had an event Saturday night-he biked with 4,000 others at midnight along Indianapolis city streets. Very cool!


And THEN, this morning, we got the call that Emily and Jody had baby Grace!


Emily should be the poster girl for pregnancy, labor and delivery...amazing! We went to see them once we got back into town tonight and I thought I would post a few pics. The images are grainy because I didn't want to use my flash and blind her sweet face. I love this family with all of my heart. She's beautiful you guys--in every way.

And so, that's it on this end...at least for now. Wishing all of you a wonderful 4th of July!!