Dad Story, Part 7: Coronavirus and Justice / Righteousness / Steadfast Love

Disclaimer:  I'm writing a tale of our journey to adopt our third daughter who is our fifth child.  Yes, we're crazy.  No, I haven't won the argument to get an Armored Personnel Carrier to carry all these people.  And yes, I'm writing it from a dad's perspective.  I hope it helps some dad out there who wonders what in the world God has put on his plate.

As we have continued the pursuit, it hasn’t been easy.  Currently, coronavirus (COVID-19) is ravaging China and beginning what looks like an unabated run across the globe.  We have videos of some pretty horrible conditions in China and some fears about what is happening (or will happen) in the future in the U.S. and what travel will look like.  

I was walking and praying one morning and the verse popped in my head:  don’t let the rich man boast in his riches, the wise man boast in his wisdom, the strong man in his strength, but let him who boasts boast in this: that he understands and knows Me, the LORD, who exercises justice, righteousness, and steadfast love on the earth (Jer. 9.23-24). 

So that’s where I take my fears these days.  I pray that Jesus will show up and exercise some justice in some places, making a way for a little girl in an orphanage in China to find a home in the suburbs of Houston.  I pray that there will be some righteousness worked on the earth, the making right of things that aren’t:  like a threatening pandemic that is bad in its own right but a moral issue for our family as it keeps us from our daughter.  And I pray that God will show both here and there, to us and to her, His steadfast love by preparing us for her and her for us, even now knitting our hearts together.

I don’t always have a good control of my fear.  I certainly don’t have a good control over the responses of superpowers to the happenings in the world.  But I know a love that conquers all of that.  It even conquered death itself.  And I can trust in that kind of love and the One who gives it.

Dad Story, Part 6: How is God moving?

Disclaimer:  I'm writing a tale of our journey to adopt our third daughter who is our fifth child.  Yes, we're crazy.  No, I haven't won the argument to get an Armored Personnel Carrier to carry all these people.  And yes, I'm writing it from a dad's perspective.  I hope it helps some dad out there who wonders what in the world God has put on his plate.

The Queen consistently says that the place she sees God move the most is in the realm of adoption and orphan care.  We have a library of stories from our own family that would provide the veracity.  Here’s another one.

Late in December I had a friend call me. He is a now-retired business man who has made more money and lost more money than anyone I personally know.  And when he’s worth millions, he’s the exact same guy as when he is down to his house and his clothes.  He cares so little about money but is so generous with it that God has blessed him immensely.  For me, he epitomizes what Paul told Timothy about instructing those rich in this world to be rich in good deeds, generous and ready to share (1 Tim 6).  My friend is that guy.

My friend called me in late December and said, “Hey, the wife and I want to give some money.  What’s going on these days?”  I sent him a list of some things the church could do with $1000, $5000, $10,000, and $25,000 depending on what he wanted to give.  If you think that’s weird, send me an email and I’ll explain why I keep an updated list like that laying around.

He called back two days later and said he and his wife had prayed and they heard God say they were supposed to send some money to our family specifically.  Two days later, I got a note from him telling me that he loved me and was proud of us, that as always there were no strings attached to that love.  Contained in the note was a check.  My eyes about fell out of my head:  $5000.  Two days after that, we had a payment due for…wait for it…$5000.  I called him and told him what God had orchestrated - because he had NO IDEA we were adopting - and he laughed this laugh that I imagine echoes in the hallways of sacred spaces when Jesus shows off like that.

Hebrews 11 says that without faith it’s impossible to please God.  We had taken a step of faith.  My friend and his wife had done the same.  

But that’s not the end of the story.  We told a couple of close friends about how Jesus was moving and doing what He does for the orphan.  One went home to tell her spiritually struggling teenage son about it.  He flipped out:  “What do you mean, mom?  How can God know exactly what people need?  How can He tell others and then just do that for people?  I mean, c’mon mom, that is amazing!”  

Not only did my friend's obedience bless us, the ripples went farther than any of us imagined.  So I called him back and told him about it.  He and his wife were on speaker and didn’t laugh.  They wept at how Jesus had used their willingness in ways they couldn’t have known or seen.  In the hallways of sacred spaces, I imagine their weeping echoing too.

Dad Story, Part 5: When the Switch Flipped

Disclaimer:  I'm writing a tale of our journey to adopt our third daughter who is our fifth child.  Yes, we're crazy.  No, I haven't won the argument to get an Armored Personnel Carrier to carry all these people.  And yes, I'm writing it from a dad's perspective.  I hope it helps some dad out there who wonders what in the world God has put on his plate.

You need to know something about the Queen.  When she is serious about something and when there is a task to accomplish that something, you can put Everest, Atilla the Hun with his hordes, and thermonuclear war between her and the goal and she will still make it look like it was easy.  To say she is persistent is the kind of understatement that makes you sound silly.  She’s a bulldog with a bone, an addict to productivity, a force of nature.  Now, before you ask what kind of woman I married, she’s amazing.  She’s not like this always.  But she has a switch that gets flipped.  When it does, 1.21 Gigawatts of energy forge a future by sheer force of will.  It’s amazing to watch.

And I’m a plodder.  But when I’m in, I’m in.  Even if it takes me a while.  I’m in.  So it was with our home study and training.  We knocked out 10 hours worth of home study in 3 days, which included two trips to a town about 90 minutes away.  We did training at night while on vacation.  Bam, it got done in record time.  In fact, she had it planned such that we were able to send in almost everything our agency needed for the next big step (which can take weeks to complete).  A force of nature, I tell you.  She’s amazing.

I put that in the record of what-happened-along-the-way because I want every dad to know that there will come a time when you’ll need to buckle down and just go for it.  Fill the form out.  Type the letter.  Watch the video.  You wouldn’t say any of it is fun but it’s the right thing to do.  I tell my boys with regularity that the difference between a boy and a man is that a boy is ruled by his appetites and a man by his responsibilities.  I knew my wife had flipped the switch and was going to run at a breathtaking pace.  It was my responsibility to keep up and do my part.  So I did.  And gladly!  Don’t think it was drudgery.  We laughed a lot and prayed quite a bit and talked and enjoyed the process.  It was an investment into her and into our daughter that I was more than willing – even excited – to make.

And you know what happened?  The switch flipped for me.  I was all in, certain that this was what we were supposed to do.  My obedience set me up for my heart to follow along.  My priorities determined my passion.  She was ours and I was (and am!) ready to have her home.

Dad Story, Part 4: It'll all be worth it in the end

Disclaimer:  I'm writing a tale of our journey to adopt our third daughter who is our fifth child.  Yes, we're crazy.  No, I haven't won the argument to get an Armored Personnel Carrier to carry all these people.  And yes, I'm writing it from a dad's perspective.  I hope it helps some dad out there who wonders what in the world God has put on his plate.

I like to walk and pray, especially in the early mornings.  Somewhere around 5am typically, I’m up and out the door with our slightly spastic dog to get some fresh air and exercise.  I’ve always struggled a bit to sit and pray.  But walking and praying is much easier – something about my body being engaged that helps my mind stay focused.

One of these mornings I was talking to Father about the question, “When will my heart turn?  Or will it?”  I knew we were being obedient.  But I also knew it was an obedience of determination, not of delight.  So as I walked and we conversed, there came a point where the Spirit said to me, “It’ll all be worth it in the end.”  I know His voice.  It rings with a kind of authority that I cannot generate and has a resonance that reaches farther down into me than my thoughts can take me on my own.  It was Him.  He was speaking.  And He made me a promise. 

One time when I was out walking in the fall of 2008, I heard the same voice say, “January.”  I went home and told the Queen that Father had spoken but that I had no idea what He meant by “January.”  When God speaks to me like this, I typically put it in a file that is labeled, “Stuff God has said that I don’t understand yet.”  I don’t try to overinterpret or take guesses.  With the instance in 2008, it turns out that we were matched with Peanut in January, 2009.  And, lo and behold, she was born in January, 2007.  

So into the file the saying went, with me believing that Jesus was serious when He said it’ll all be worth it in the end.  I write this in late February, 2020, some 4 months or so after God has spoken.  I still don’t know what it means but I’m holding on to the promise.

Dad Story, Part 3: The Moment

Disclaimer:  I'm writing a tale of our journey to adopt our third daughter who is our fifth child.  Yes, we're crazy.  No, I haven't won the argument to get an Armored Personnel Carrier to carry all these people.  And yes, I'm writing it from a dad's perspective.  I hope it helps some dad out there who wonders what in the world God has put on his plate.

With our other two daughters (both adopted from China), I distinctly remember The Moment.  

With Peanut, it was when we got an update picture and she was sitting there holding the pillow with our pictures that the Queen had sent over.  I was undone.  Over.  Through.  I literally stood up from the bed (where we were looking at the update) and walked to my computer.  The Queen asked me what I was doing.  I said I was buying plane tickets because I figured I could fly over there and just show up at the orphanage with my nose pressed against the glass until they handed her over.  And no, I didn’t buy the tickets.  But no, I wasn’t kidding in the moment.

With Minion, I knew from the moment I got a screenshot of my beloved playing with a little cutie.  I was ready.  I told The Queen to stay there and I’d do the paperwork.  I just knew.

But in this process, I hadn’t had The Moment yet.  I definitely felt like I had been obedient.  I had prayed diligently and listened quietly.  We had organized a compromise that put us in the process and readied us for more without committing us to something I wasn’t fully committed to yet.  

But this was different.  The only thing I was certain of was that my wife was more certain than me.  The picture clarified a little more when we stepped out in obedience to get a home study done.  But no certainty.  Just struggle and a consistent plea for God to make things clearer than they were.  I am a big enough boy to know that I am not owed The Moment.  Faith-filled obedience is enhanced by something like that but it’s not a key ingredient.

The thing that I took from this stage was that my feelings and my obedience can be wondrously congruent. But sometimes they are not.  I get to obey without feeling like it (and model the fact that I’m obeying for eyes and ears close enough to see) because that’s what God asks of me in every area of my life.  I tell our people at church at least twice a year that feelings are great companions but terrible guides.  

And now was the time for me to live that out.  

Dad Story, Part 2: At Odds

Disclaimer:  I'm writing a tale of our journey to adopt our third daughter who is our fifth child.  Yes, we're crazy.  No, I haven't won the argument to get an Armored Personnel Carrier to carry all these people.  And yes, I'm writing it from a dad's perspective.  I hope it helps some dad out there who wonders what in the world God has put on his plate.

My wife and I were at odds.  We weren’t being ugly to one another.  Not that kind of “at odds.”  It wasn’t a fight.  It was a disagreement.  And there’s not much common ground between Adopt and Not Adopt. 

True story:  I am personally inclined to say yes to my wife as much as possible.  Some see that as weakness.  If that’s you, you’re an idiot.  My wife is wicked smart, empathetic relationally, strong of personality, has grit to spare, and has sacrificed beyond measure in just about every sphere of her life for our family.  Why wouldn’t I want to say yes to her?  It’s easy.

But on this issue, I was struggling.  I wasn’t saying no because I’m anti-anything.  I was simply inclined to believe that what we said on the front end still stood and that God hadn’t made it clear yet that we should do differently.  She wants me to lead in situations like this.  I want to lead.  But we stood on different sides.

As an aside, I love this about us.  We work through things like this.  We pray alone and together.  We talk honestly.  We give each other space.  She’s especially gracious on the timing, because I’m a crockpot thinker.  She practiced debate in high school and left opponents weeping and seated in their shame.  To date, I have never won an argument with her.  Which is why it takes her gracious patience to let me think and pray.  I hope, if you’re married, you get to the point of healthy engagement over issues without arguing.  We sought to hear one another and hear God.  That made the conversations heavy but easy.

After a few weeks, which seems like an eternity to a natural-born, DNA-inclined peacemaker, we came to a compromise.  I honestly can’t remember whose idea it was, so I’ll go ahead and claim credit.  

The compromise was this:  if we were to go on a mission trip, it would require a passport.  If we were to adopt, it would require a home study.  So we set out to figure out how to get a home study done.  At first, it looked cost prohibitive because we’d have to join the full China program.  That was an initial investment of about $6000.  We both felt like that was our answer.  It didn’t seem like good stewardship to drop $6000 for a “maybe.”  Lo and behold, a few days later our agency let us know about a different option that was close to 1/3 of that.  That was a pill we could swallow. 

Had we not had that compromise, I honestly don’t know where we’d be or what (if anything) I’d be writing about.  But my experience as a pastor (and certainly as a husband) is that when my heart is inclined toward my wife and hers to mine and both are submitted to God, something tends to work out.

Dad Story, Part 1: Yes, we're adopting again

Disclaimer:  I'm writing a tale of our journey to adopt our third daughter who is our fifth child.  Yes, we're crazy.  No, I haven't won the argument to get an Armored Personnel Carrier to carry all these people.  And yes, I'm writing it from a dad's perspective.  I hope it helps some dad out there who wonders what in the world God has put on his plate.

The Queen and Bear went to China in September, 2019.  I remember managing kids most of the week and praying hard for the two on the other side of the world.  

We had a deal, though.  A pact.  No additional kid needed.  God would have to write it in the sky or the kid’s name would have to be Leroy.  That was the deal.

Upon return, the Queen was tired but alive on the inside, advocating for the children she had the opportunity to evaluate as a medical professional.  I don’t know how many people across the US heard from my stick of lit dynamite.  She had Facebook conversations, phone calls, text exchanges, emails, smoke signals, and two carrier pigeons.  I lost count of who all and how all she was communicating with people and what all she was saying.

My wife has a way of generating ideas that release untold good in the world.  If I get the chance to say what is on her tombstone, that’s what I’d say.  It’s an unbelievable gift to me, to our church family, and to the world.  Her idea was that she could network like a wild woman and come up with families who would be glad to step into the process of adopting and changing the world for the better by bringing an orphan home.  So she went on about the business of carrying out her idea.  

There was one little one who kept coming up that didn’t really get much traction.  At one point, maybe there was a family but it was a complicated situation because of another agency being involved.  So she told God and then me (in that order) that we were open to being her family even if we didn’t feel called to it. 

I was…less than thrilled. 

We had a deal.  A pact.  The kid’s name wasn’t Leroy.  No sky writing.  Nothing.

And I was pretty sure she was nuts.  

That’s how this whole story started.

July 13th is a good day

July 13th is a good day around our house.

Actually, it's a GREAT day.

It's a miracle reminder kind of day.

We were in the middle of the longest wait in human history.  Olympics.  The flu.  All sorts of craziness was keeping us away.  Pins and needles.  Frustration and tears.  General anxiety.  We called and were told that if our papers arrived by July 3rd, we'd be good to go.

And it arrived.  On July 3rd.  Just like we prayed.  Bam.  God moved.

Except the office was closed that Friday because the 4th was Saturday.  It's admittedly hard to worship on Sunday when you think your life is on hold waiting for paperwork and permission.  Especially when God came through but the office was closed.

So the Queen called on Monday at 8am.  One thing you do not want to do:  get on the other side of the Queen when she knows she's right.  Believe me.  I've known her for 23 years.  I've been married to her for 19.  Don't do that.

She said to the nice lady:  "Hey, so we're good to go, right?"

Nice Lady:  "No.  Sorry.  Our office was closed and we can't get the arrangements made."

The Queen:  "Uhm.  That wasn't the deal.  You said if it's there by the 3rd, we're good.  It was there.  God moved.  We're going, right?  You're going to hold up your end of the bargain, right?"

Nice Lady:  "Well, all I can do is try to see if they'll make these arrangements.  We've never done it on such short notice."

The Queen:  "Great.  I look forward to your phone call in the morning."

Tuesday at 9am, the phone rings.  We are headed to China to get our baby girl.

In less than 48 hours, we packed, bought plane tickets, and were out the door.  In four short days, we had her in our arms.

Happy Gotcha Day, Peanut.  You are a gift to us from God.  And a reminder of His miracle-working power.  Mommy and Daddy love you very much.

What I'm Learning about Patience

Here's the setting:

Son comes down to eat his 87th snack of the day at 10:00pm.  I'm wrapping up, locking up, and turning off lights.  He sits down at the kitchen table.  I do too.  

He eats like a sloth on barbiturates.

Every cracker gets divided into 64ths.  Chewing is like glacial activity.  The peanut butter between the crackers gets licked off...every microgram of it.

Me-to-myself:  JUST EAT YOUR @#$)#%*(@$ CRACKERS SO WE CAN GO TO BED BECAUSE I'M FREAKING TIRED ALREADY AND ISN'T THIS YOUR 12TH PACKAGE OF PEANUT BUTTER CRACKERS TODAY???

Me-to-him:  Hey bud.  Tell me about camp.  What was the coolest thing you learned or had reinforced? (while still steaming on the inside)

Him-to-me:  Some thoughtful responses, some late night blather.  

Me-to-him:  What's one thing you need to do to reinforce all that?

Him-to-me:  I need to _____________.  (a solid action step)  Hey dad, you want one of these crackers?

Me-to-him:  Nope.

He finished just short of 22 hours later (it seemed), washed his hands, brushed his teeth (again).  Then, at the top of the stairs as he was headed to his room and I was headed to mine...

"Hey dad.  Thanks for sitting with me.  It was really great to talk to you.  Goodnight!" *big hug*

Me-to-myself:  Thank you God that I didn't say out loud all the impatient things I was thinking...

Here's what I'm learning about patience:

I'm only patient when things don't go as I planned in either direction or timing.  That's the only time I get to exercise patience.  When it goes my way, no patience is needed.

Be smart enough not to say everything that I'm thinking.  And be gracious enough not to hold other people to what they said but may not have meant in the heat of the moment.  Parents.  Kids.  Spouses.  Bosses.  Employees.  They all apply.

I can't think of an example in my life or those I know where someone says, "Gee, I wish I would've been less patient there."  The payoff for patience can look like a life-giving hug at the top of the stairs or something meaningful to you.  But it almost always pays off.  To be clear, I'm not talking about passivity here - sitting and doing nothing and expecting God to sort it all out.  I'm talking about patience - the kind of intentional and active waiting (or sitting at the table conversing over peanut butter crackers) that the Bible describes.

Here's hoping that helps someone today.

3 Years

I have kept myself busy today with helpful chores around the house, but The Shadow has always lingered back behind me somewhere.  It's 9:00pm and I figured it's time to look it in the face.

Today is three years since The Phone Call came.  "Hey Trent.  It's [Queen's Best Friend].  You need to get the kids settled and get back to the hospital as soon as you can.  Maggie has had a stroke."  I can take you to the place on the Gulf Freeway where I answered.  It's not etched into my memory.  It's more like seared.

Let me tell you (and The Shadow) what I've seen in the last three years...

God's faithfulness in saving the life of my little girl and bringing her back to health.  He'd still be faithful if it had gone a different way, but I'm glad He chose to display Himself in this manner for her.

God's strength in our lives and life.  Thank you, God, for seeing us all through.

Resilience in my kids.  They bounce back like rubber balls.  I don't doubt that they've been marked by these three years.  I think they consistently show how resilient they are.  And not because we're perfect parents, but I think love, attention, and some intentional investment keep them bouncy (in a lot of areas of life).

The church is the greatest institution in the world.  I serve as a pastor, so I know it's not perfect.  But it's great.  And I have a legion of stories - chapters that were written by the love and selflessness of others - that prove it.

Faithfulness.  Strength.  Resilience.  Church.

I hope that encourages someone who has their own Shadow that's in pursuit.

Zombie Response Vehicle and a Warfare that is much more REAL

Dropping the Bear off at school the other day, I took a different way home because I was grabbing gas for the Queen's minivan extraordinaire.  Yes, I am that good of a husband, I know...

On the way home, I ran across an old ambulance made up in Halloween garb that declared itself a Zombie Response Vehicle.  Not exactly this, but something like it:

I laughed a little, judged the people who owned it for being strange, and kept driving - wondering how in the world a TV show like The Walking Dead could affect people's vehicle choices.  And then the thought crept in.  "What if Zombies are real and we just don't know it?" (** Please note:  I don't believe in zombies.  I just hadn't had enough coffee to be sane **)

But here's what hit me (after another cup of black liquid sanity):  we do have an Enemy who is real and is yet unseen.  His effects are genuine.  His power legitimate.

I look around my world right now - much less THE world right now - and see the craziness that exists and seems to be contagious.  I don't know the ins and outs of the recipe, but I do know that spiritual warfare plays into it in more ways that (a) we can see and (b) we acknowledge.  There is not a demon under every rock, but there are demons who wreak havoc and create all sorts of trouble for people.  There are Tempters who invite us to do everything but the right thing.  There is a real spiritual bondage that comes when people reverse the polarity of their moral compass.

It's real, dear reader.  Be aware and be on the alert.  A roaring, proud lion seeks people (and marriages and teenagers and reputations and ministries) to devour. (cf. 1 Peter 5.8)

Back to Blogging: Transformation

Well, it's more than a little odd to be sitting here typing since it's been about a billion years (in blog years, of course) since a new post has gone up.  The truth is, after quite a run with hospitals, etc., I just didn't have much to say.  I was committed to saying exactly that.

A long time ago I heard a guy say that if I concerned myself with having something to say, God would provide the opportunities to say it.  I have lived by that credo ever since.

So I'm back because I think I have found my blog-voice, so to speak.  And the word of the day is transformation.

Chipper Gaines loves #DemoDay.  He loves it so much he even prints shirts about them that you can buy at Magnolia Market.

If you're not a Fixer Upper fan, sorry.  Because of our Waco connection and one of their first houses being two doors down from us when we lived there, we're fans.

The thing about #DemoDay that no one glorifies is the pain involved.  There is so much to be destroyed, taken down, beaten out, rolled up, carted off, hauled out, and trashed.  Sinks.  Floors.  Sheetrock.  Wood.  Cabinets.  Appliances.  Some come out pretty easy and some take more than a little bit of elbow grease.  There is blood.  There is sweat in buckets.  And there is loss.  That's what #DemoDay is.  Removal of the old to make room for the new.

You see what I did there, don't you?

The most painful part of transformation is the #DemoDay part.  There are times when, in order to build something into us, God has to take something out of us.  There is blood (His...since we don't have to resist to the point of shedding ours according to Hebrews 12).  There is sweat - most often ours as we worry about and work toward the cleansing.  And there is loss.

If you're in the position where it's mostly Sledge Hammers instead of finish work, I want to encourage you that God has "far, far greater things ahead than anything we leave behind" (C.S. Lewis).

One Baylor Alum's Reflections on a Dark Day

First, let me say that I'm just a single voice and others will speak more eloquently and possibly more accurately.  Part of blogging for me has been a method of saying things that I couldn't get to without writing them.

I am so sad.

Baylor has fired Coach Art Briles, demoted President Ken Starr, and sanctioned A.D. Ian McCaw.  A damning report by an outside law firm has crushed many in the Baylor family.  Baylor failed - the kind of failure that all of its constituents feel.  We were not who we said we were.  My wife, the Queen, will tell you that I'm a cup half-full guy.  I was on this too.  No way my beloved Baylor was as bad as the rumors were.  The truth will win out and it will turn out okay somehow.  But no.  We were worse than most imagined.

We didn't learn much from Dave Bliss, apparently.  Athletics trumped righteousness (in the biblical sense of that word).  We valued disproportionately what was (and is) not all that valuable in the end.

And that's not the worst of it.

The worst of it is that there are ladies who are scarred for life whose stories are now interwoven with a national news cycle.  Anonymity and healing will be a lot harder now.  May God have mercy on them.

I am mad.

I am angry that athletes were allowed to treat others like this with impunity.  I am angry that there was no clear-headed person who could call it what it was.  I am angry that there were assumptions and arrogance and absences of judgment.

I am wary.

I am wary because, according to the report, there was a systemic failure of good-natured people.  I'm not talking about those who dismissed or failed to do their duty.  I'm talking about the people who thought that it wouldn't happen at Baylor.  I'm talking about the people who should have been working to put the appropriate Title IX systems in place but slow-rolled it because either (a) leadership above them didn't prioritize it or (b) they had other things on their plates or (c) some combination of both.

It's a terrible leadership lesson to learn.  Let me be clear:  as a Christian university, I actually think it's correct for administrators and other leaders to expect it not to happen at Baylor.  We ought to expect men not to act like animals, especially those who claim Christianity.  But just because we expect one thing doesn't mean we don't guard against another.  And that's the leadership lesson:  expect the best but have guards in place against the worse.

On a personal level, I know I've implemented this in my own life.  I expect faithfulness to God, my wife, and my family for life.  However, I have also built in some personal legalisms that guard against the dreaded "what could be."  We've taken steps recently as a church to do something similar regarding facility usage, etc.


O!  My heart hurts.

Follow ups and catch ups

Thanks for all who have stayed with us and prayed for us in these days.  Below are some notes that will hopefully catch everyone up to speed on where things are.

Currently, Maggie is home and doing well.  She was discharged Tuesday evening because she was holding stable on the medicinal regimen she was taking and they were willing to take "stable."  What that means is she still has her pleural effusion (the fluid around her lung) but it didn't appear to be increasing.  The hope is her body will catch up and clear it now that we've plugged the leak in the dam, so to speak.

And that leads to today.  She has a follow-up appointment today close to noon.  The blood work and x-rays will tell us a lot about how she's doing.  That's definitely a point of prayer.

So many have asked about her seizure on Sunday.  Because of her prior strokes in 2014, she has a lower seizure threshold where her brain activity can overcome her brain chemistry leading to bad things happening.  This can be caused by dehydration, exhaustion, fever, and a myriad of other stimuli.  In her case, we **think**, it was the extreme nausea from the potassium supplement she had to take.  Maybe.  But honestly, no one knows.  They have upped her anti-seizure meds to hopefully help her with these struggles.  It was and remains a scary part of her medical makeup.  

Out of the many people we have met during our tenure at TCH, the conjoined twins from Venezuela have captured our affection the most.  They are so sweet and genuinely joyful, matched by the sweetness and joy of their parents.  The Queen and I have coordinated (well, mostly the Queen) an effort to try to get them some items that would be nice to have as a sign of God's love and favor for them.  I'm amazed at how generous some of our friends are and how God typically provides in advance what we can pass along.  In one case, an iPad was sitting around waiting to be given away by one of our friends.  And...boom.  The twins have an iPad with Spanish movies.  So fun to see how God works and moves even in the midst of a very difficult situation for their family.

In addition, we've had conversations about Christ with a Muslim nurse, conversations with one of our favorite nurses about adoption, a long conversation with a doctor about following Jesus as a professional, and a conversation with another favorite nurse about being real while being people of faith.  The Kingdom is still worthy of pursuit - even when my circumstances aren't easy (Matt. 6.33).

Throughout, we have known we are loved (evidenced by so many of you who have loved us well for the sake of Jesus).  Our circumstances have never changed His love and disposition of mercy toward us.  I have a quote from a Puritan pastor under the glass on my desk that reminds me of this.  And so I leave you with this from Thomas Wilcox (1621-1687) and his sermon Honey out of the Rock:

Judge not Christ's love by providences [circumstances], but by promises.  Bless God for shaking off false foundations, for any way whereby He keeps the soul awakened and looking after Christ; better sickness and temptations, than security and superficiality.

Status Update for Day 44 (but hey, who's counting)

We have entered into our 7th week of time here at the fine institution of Texas Children's Hospital.  I really was told it was just going to be "a day or two" back in early November.  Those seem like far away words from a far away time.

Good stuff happening:

1.  Her chest drainage appears to be down along with a positive x-ray yesterday (Sunday morning).  Those are two markers we keep an eye on.

2.  She is her same bossy, demanding, center-of-attention self.

3.  We have on the radar a downgrade in her diuretic treatment (going from IV to oral).  All this assumes we keep going in the right direction - see below.

4.  Cousins came to see her yesterday and apparently had quite the Frozen karaoke moment.  That video may come back to haunt them on their wedding days...

5.  She got to see her older brother on Sunday and may get to see the Wonder Twins this week if they lift the visitation restrictions.

6.  They have eased her fluid restriction by 100ml.  That makes a girl happier because she can drink (even a little bit) more.

7.  Our friends adopting in Nicaragua have completed their journey.  A few forms at the US Embassy and they are homeward bound.  That has nothing to do with us but Maggie is a big part of their adoption story - and it's good to talk about events occurring outside the hospital room.  Especially happy ones.


Points to pray on:

1.  As of Sunday night, the Queen expressed some concern about her O2 saturation and some fear about Monday morning's x-ray.  You can pray both are fine.

2.  No steps backward.  Only forward progress, please.  The roll-out of IV-turned-oral-turned-reduced dosages is a long road.  And the longer we're on it, the harder it is on the rest of her systems.

3.  More Kingdom-related moments in the hospital.

4.  Everyone would get to be together at Christmas like we were at Thanksgiving (even for a few brief hours).

5.  The Big Three would continue to hang in there, know they are loved, and somehow feel secure in the midst of the world-rocking pattern we live right now.

I woke up Sunday morning trying to spark faith by reminding myself that Jesus reigns over everything and so it'll all be okay in the end.  I believe it to be so.  Sometimes more than others.

Thanks for staying with us.  We cannot say thanks enough.


This is the picture of her in the van on Gotcha Day.  From that point forward, I am forever smitten.  I'm her dad.  What can I say?

Wednesday morning update

I have to type this very quickly because there are people coming for my girl at any point.  Forgive whatever brevity and choppiness you encounter.

Yesterday was not awesome.  She had multiple complications from the re-accumulation of the fluid on her lungs.  It was the kind of not awesome that makes doctors furrow their brow.  When they get worried, I do too.

Yesterday was totally awesome.  My sweet niece and her friend came by and hung out for about 3-4 hours and the Minion had the absolute best time with them.  She laughed and giggled and took selfies and just enjoyed the interaction.

This morning is not awesome.  The x-ray looks like a blizzard broke in to her chest and had a party right over her left lung.  Our other three are feeling the strain of it all.  If they do a heart cath, the two structural things they're looking at are not easy fixes.  And I just resorted to asking a friend for some magic fairy dust to fix it all and then fly us to Hawaii.

Here is her medical status of the day:
They will reinsert the chest tube this morning.
They possibly will do some combination of the following:  MRA/V, heart cath, hokey pokey, the electric slide, or none of the above.
She feels better than yesterday but is diagnostically worse.

This morning is totally awesome.  I married *the* most incredible girl.  I have a great job with great people that has provided me fluidity, not just flexibility.  My oldest made an A in math without much help from his dad this go-around and after being sick last week.  Our friends don't seem to fade but actually grow in strength as this craziness extends into the 6-week realm (not to mention how endeared we are with them and indebted to them).  And, where we root our hope, Jesus still reigns over everything and has this under control and hasn't been impeached or abdicated. He sits enthroned today with a disposition that is for us.  I'm really buoyed by that this morning.  His attitude hasn't changed.  He, along with hundreds and hundreds of others, is praying for Maggie right now (Heb. 7.25).

Thanks for hanging with us.  I'll try to update more later today.

Picture of the blizzard in her left lung...

5 weeks long and 10 Random Thoughts

We've been here 5 weeks now.  Here are some thoughts in no particular order.  Feel free to skip to the end to pray if you'd like...

1.  Hospital and hospitable have the same etymology but not the same experience.  I'm not complaining.  I'm merely observing.

2.  When she asks to go home, my heart doesn't break.  It crumbles.

3.  Hands down, we have some of the greatest friends in the world.

4.  Donald Trump is to American politics what Sponge Bob is to cartoons.  They both epitomize everything that is opportunistic and freaky.  If my 13-year old can diagnose a charlatan, it's bad.  At some point, we the people have to get serious enough about the problems and solutions and not be in love with our rage anymore.

5.  If they can come for Muslims in mosques, they can come for Christians in churches.  Either the First Amendment applies or it doesn't.

6.  The more complicated the world gets, the simpler and saner the call of Jesus sounds:  "Be faithful to the end, I've got the rest."

7.  I told a friend today our church is in the midst of a hard season but is doing great because the church has basically sucked it up and said, "Let's walk it together."  I stand by that 100%.  I'm not sure an outsider would see it because there's no griping or fussing.  It's a steely-eyed, gritty joy.  And I love them for it.  I draw inspiration from it.

8.  Texas Children's Hospital cares for a lot of sick kids and kids who are a lot of sick.  Every time someone punches the elevator to 9, I pray for their family.  Kids ought not have to see an oncologist.  Jesus, come quickly.

9.  There are tons of stories in the nursing core and doctor teams.  I like asking questions and getting answers about T's bracelet with the saints' portraits that he wears to remind him to pray or J's music selection that includes R&B slow jams and the gospel sounds of Fred Hammonds or E's allergies to basically the entire world yet a tenderheartedness that has prompted her to bring Maggie two hand-sewn blankets or ribbing a doc about his new baby's first Hanukkah and me reminding him that Jesus was Jewish too (he about busted a gut laughing, so don't get offended).

10.  Sometimes my prayer life feels more like John Candy in his movie The Great Outdoors.  In the scene I'm thinking about, the bear busts down the door Candy is holding back and bounces on top of it.  At one point, Candy just starts saying, "Uncle!  Uncle!  Uncle!"  That's about all I have some times.

Just a few quick prayer points:

- We need the strategies they're trying now to work.  No more guessing would be awesome.

- I think her soul is starting to feel the weight of this.  The Queen said she asked for home about 10+ times today.

- Endurance.  I have told multiple people:  what we're doing isn't hard, it's doing what we're doing over and over again that's hard.

- Security for the Big Three.  Their world is abnormal, and I don't want that to become normal.

Week 3 Update: still here but maybe (?) some light at the end of the tunnel

Two days ago, we rolled three weeks of very unexpected stay.  So far, my girl has been here longer than most anticipated, had a chest tube put in, pulled out, and put back in, and made friends with just about everyone she can.

Oh yes.  And her dad can take "See your child have a seizure" off his bucket list.  Check that box.

She makes nothing easy.

Overall, her spirits are good, she still smiles a lot, giggles hilariously at times, orders people around, demands people look at her when she's talking, and acts like she runs the joint.  She's a three-year old CEO.

On the medical front, there is a heart cath coming early this week which will hopefully reveal something that we can fix.  That is hands-down the best option.  Option A, as I've been telling my friends.

The condition that is causing her problems is that the pressure in her circulatory systems is higher than in the lymph system.  That's important because the lymph system typically dumps its excess and some other stuff (a highly technical medical term, I know) into the circulatory system.  So if the pressure is too high in the one, the lymph system will back up and put its extra elsewhere - like a little girl's lung.

Option A, then, is there is something anatomic causing her circulatory system to carry higher pressures, and a stint / suture / cardiovascular magic will fix it and she will stabilize quickly.

There are other options, but let's stick with praying for Option A right now.  The others get pretty dicey pretty quickly.  Patience is not in high supply but it is in high demand.

So here's how to pray for our little Minion CEO...

1.  Pray we can get into the heart cath procedure quickly this week.  The more quickly we get this looked at, the more quickly we have answers.

2.  Pray it shows an easily fixed Option A.  That would be catching a divinely orchestrated break, one which we would frankly LOVE to catch.

3.  Pray she comes through all of that fine and isn't too messed up by the anesthesia.

4.  Ongoing strength, positive outlook, and mental toughness for her.  Heck, you can pray that for all of us.

5.  We have been blessed by so many in so many ways.  Please pray that God will pour out His blessings on those who have blessed us.  They have given of themselves without thought or seeking something in return.  So I'm asking God to pour out in ways that they never would've anticipated but will thoroughly enjoy.

Thanks for staying with us.  We are still in the fight.

So, it's been two weeks...

We’ve been here two long weeks.  I don’t say that to gripe but to give it perspective, because two weeks has felt like a LOT for this unexpected, replan-the-holiday, keep-a-three-year-old-busy kind of stay.

I came up with another way of measuring this:  we have been in the hospital more than out since her surgery.  4 weeks in post-op, out 4 weeks, 2 weeks back in.  In case you’re keeping score at home, that’s 6 out of the past 10 weeks.

People ask how it is and my response typically is, “It’s a grind.”  And without the support of many and the prayers of many more, we would long ago have cratered.  So thanks.  Even yesterday morning, two friends dropped by during the brief time I had in the office and took time to pray.  I told them afterward how much I appreciated them and went to hug them, resulting in what was possibly the most awkward three-way-man-hug ever.  But hey, I was grateful.

Here is our current status:

She continues to drain from her chest tube.  We work hard throughout the day to keep it from kinking and twisting.  It appears to me that when we keep it untwisted and unkinked, the drainage is down a little more each day.  But then again I might be living in Half-Full Land.

Her spirits are good.  Outside of the tube and bubbling box, you wouldn’t know she’s sick.  On the outside, she looks great.  It’s what’s going on inside that is messy.  There’s a spiritual application there.

We’ve switched from IV to oral diuretics.  That’s one step closer to us getting home.  We have to keep the drainage going down while on the oral meds to stay on the right path. 

There’s been more talk about more surgical procedures but we’re trying to push them off as far away as possible on that stuff.  The Queen actually had that conversation yesterday.  Our favorite doc up here (who saved Maggie’s life two summers ago) told us to be sure and be patient.  We’re being patient.  Home is not better if there are more and painful surgical procedures that get us there.

By all accounts, we’re here through the Thanksgiving holiday.  That ought to be interesting.  And a good exercise for us, as a family, to find things to be thankful for while sitting where we’ll be sitting.

If you’re the praying type, here are ways you can hold us up…

She would continue to improve and we would have exactly zero steps backward.  All the medical stuff they’re trying needs to work.

She would continue to be able to find joy in the 250 sq.ft. that we are occupying.

The Big Three would hang in there.  Signs of strain are already present. 

Thank you.