Mara. Sweet Mara.

I’d heard her name many times more than once. I took note this little girl was in need. Prayers were lifted from the pulpit and there were requests for even more prayer. Her name showed up in email newsletters, and there was a benefit too. For years, these opportunities to cross paths with Mara sat at my doorstep.

But friends, I have to be honest, my eyes were not wide open to little Mara’s reality until three days ago.

For in my own pain, I could not see. Our stories had overlapped on the timeline, and I was not able to open my heart to a set of circumstances remotely similar to what I was enduring, what I had endured. In those unknown years of overlap, my own heart had been broken and was spilling out wide from six years of trauma and chaos and pain from my own sister’s illnesses. Illnesses much different than those Mara faces, but in light of God’s bigger-picture story, similar enough.

So it was not until now, just three days ago, that my heart was ready to hear who Mara really was, who Mara really is. To hear Mara’s story, to open my heart and let a flow of compassion spill out for her, is necessary now.

The story of a daughter, a sister facing a battle, facing pain that has lasted for years. A roller-coaster story of ups and downs. And let me tell you, Miss Mara has endured some big rides. From her Caring Bridge site:

Mara was diagnosed with a rare genetic disease called MPS VI in 2006. After several years of complicated ERT (treatment to help slow the progression of her disease) failed to work for her, she underwent her first BMT in 2008 in which lead to engraftment failure. After a few years later of trial and error therapy, and lengthy ICU hospitalizations the decisions was made to undergo a 2nd bone marrow transplant at the U of MN. She is currently undergoing chemotherapy to prepare her bone marrow to receive her “new cells” on Feb. 7th 2013.

A moving video of Mara’s second bone marrow transplant on February 7, 2013, can be viewed here: http://mollyshieldsphotography.myshowit.com/maranorton

Today marks Day +27 since Mara’s second bone marrow transplant, and the best news yet came yesterday when Mara’s mom shared that “Mara is 100% grafted with donor cells!”

But friends, while this is the best news ever, this daughter, this sister, little Mara, is not out of the woods yet. For she is still in the hospital, and there is belly pain and nausea, chills and blood pressure to control. Her “adenovirus blood test from Monday came back 5x higher, and her CMV doubled again,” she is on antiviral IV medications in hopes they “will start kicking in soon, the IVIG infusions help her IGG go up to help fight, and her T cells start growing to help too.”

All the abbreviations make my head spin, and families shouldn’t have to know what BMT and CMV and IVIG and IGG mean. But Mara’s health? That’s what’s important. For the God of the Universe designed the inner-workings of all those abbreviations and all of those numbers and readings, and we can rest in confidence knowing He has Mara in His hands. For Mara is God’s story. He sent His son for us, in our suffering and in our pain, in our chronic diseased state, and He redeems, He heals, He restores. And Mara is in His hands.

But even in that glorious truth, we must not forget. Mara is not alone.

Daddy Christian and Mama Tina, Older Sister Catherine and Younger Brother Landin? These are the people that have been by Mara’s side. Her family. Mara, a sweet child of tender age, reliant on her family for care, for stability. I’ve never met Mara, nor have I met Daddy or Mama or Older Sister or Younger Brother, but let me tell you, they’re brilliant, they’re brave, they’re bold and courageous and they’ve fought a battle that’s been hard won. People can’t really grasp the breadth, the depth of little Mara’s health issues, the struggles she faces, the struggles they’ve faced, but the pit in Daddy Christian’s stomach has turned to a ray of sunshine in a matter of minutes more than once. Mama Tina has seen “glimmers of better,” and Older Sister and Younger Brother’s lives have been changed. forever.

The fact is, none of us would understand unless we stepped right into Daddy Christian and Mama Tina and Older Sister Catherine and Younger Brother Landin’s shoes. And since we can’t step into their shoes, we must, we must. also pray for Daddy Christian and Mama Tina and Older Sister Catherine and Younger Brother Landin. For these special beings have been placed in Mara’s life to care and support, to love and to nurture, and they need our assurance, His assurance, as well. For the days are hard and the road is long, but all five must know we care.

So today, thanks to Ms. Liz and Pastor Dan, and God who opened my heart at the perfect time, I fast and pray with hundreds others, in honor of Little Miss Mara and her dear Daddy Christian, Mama Tina, Older Sister Catherine, and Younger Brother Landin.

May they be healed, may they be restored. May these days seem short in light of life ahead.

Will you join us? It’s never too late. For we’re all on God’s timeline, and though we may be momentarily blinded to others’ pain because of our own, God is always ready to open our hearts at a moment’s notice, so we may lift others to His glory.

“Now, therefore,” says the Lord, “turn to Me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning.”  Joel 2.12

Amy

Mara’s Caring Bridge site can be viewed and followed at: http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/norton. The family is grateful for prayer partners along the way.

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the words of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is ORDINARY. 

I’m quieted. I’m silenced in all your extraordinaire.

I’m momentarily paralyzed by your God-sized dreams, your god-sized living on the computer screen. But I am not you, and you are not me, for God has a plan that is unique and special, only for me.

And I begin comparing and thinking this God-sized dream I’m not willing to share is just too big. That it’s not worth dreaming. That it might be so God-sized it’s not even possible. And that leaves me in a place of defeat before I’ve barely begun.

For if I compare myself to you, you seem bigger. You seem better. You have it all together. You know where you’re going. You’re on your way.

And I sit in this silence.

For although He made me quiet, my heart beats loud and I have much to say. Things to say that you, and you, and you can’t possibly say.

For this path? It’s mine. And the God-sized dream, between me and God.

My heart wants to believe it true, but my mind? It tells me no way. That brain that over-processes and wonders if this mystery will ever be unfolded? No way, just no way. The world? It tells me no way, that’s ridiculous, far off daydreaming. My overpacked life? No way I can ever make it happen. And the Twitter stream? No way, nothing but a face in the sea of success.

But my God? In the quiet, He says yes. In the quiet, it’s ok. Between you and Me, we’ll keep it this way. I’ll lead. You follow. Sit and be near. For you see the worlds’ works, but My way is better. This journey is for you. For you are not ordinary. You are extraordinary.

And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.  Romans 8:28-30

Amy

SPECIAL NOTE BEYOND THE FIVE MINUTES: Holley Gerth, author of You’re Made for a God-Sized Dream, is leading a group of women that are publicly acknowledging and pursuing their God-Sized dreams. I follow Holley’s blog quietly, and admire her very much. The day Holley’s God-Sized blog series launched, I stayed up really late reading everybody’s posts, and I was stunned, but inspired by their willingness to share such big and bold dreams with the world. Although I know with clarity my own God-Sized dream, I am not bold enough nor confident enough to share it publicly. I pray I will be bold and courageous as I continue down the path to my God-Sized dream, that I will follow Him each step despite my human fears and doubts, and that I will rest in peace knowing His plans are to give me hope and a future.

ANOTHER SPECIAL NOTE JUST PRIOR TO LINKING-UP! I published this post, went to link-up at Lisa-Jo’s site, and read that Holley’s book is released TODAY!!!! I have some serious goose bumps knowing I wrote this post and did not realize today was her big book release day! A big congratulations to Holley, and I’m knowing God has His arms wrapped around all these God-Sized dreams more than any of us can fathom. Truly, this has been a God moment for me today. Thank you Lisa-Jo Baker for the prompt, thank you Holley Gerth for the book, and thank you all for joining in this stream of consciousness.

It’s Friday, which means it’s time for another Meet Me At This Moment for Five Minute Friday post! I spend the last hour of Thursday chatting it up with a group of authentic and inspiring Five Minute Friday bloggers on Twitter (#FiveMinuteFriday #fmfparty). One minute past midnight EST Friday, Lisa-Jo Baker gives us a single word prompt and we all write a blog post centered around that word. We write for five minutes, and five minutes only! In the wjords of Lisa, this is “unscripted. unedited. real.” You meet me at this moment in time…my thoughts and opinions, my joys and sorrows, my dilemmas and dreams. And I receive one of the greatest gifts ever…a regular outlet for processing and expressing my thoughts without constantly editing myself. This is my life, my perspective, unfiltered.

The word of the week is WHAT MAMA DID. 

Mama captured moments and put them in place to be treasured.

A lifetime of memories quietly tucked away in books.

Photo albums mama made for each of us. Her days more than busy. Too busy. But mama took time.

The baby days, little feet and piggy tails and buggies and bottles on feet. A golden birthday celebrated in a little white chair. Daddy and mama, and sister came along too.

In the early days, smiles shined brightly on the pages. The girl full of energy and spunk. The girl who didn’t care what anyone thought. She was there with all the grandmas and the grandpas and the special trips made to Disneyland and Disneyworld and all the great mountains and geysers of the states. And brother was born. So tiny in her big elementary arms.

The birthday parties, they passed one by one. Angel cakes with mountains high of frosting. Bear collections and 4-H projects and sweet girl memories with Sara and Claire and Abbey.

And as she grew, mama captured all that too. Grandma played her last piece on the piano, and the girl turned adolescent. Awkward stances turned into tennis matches and prom dances.

And she was growing into herself, she loved to dress up, even then. Some days she was curly, some days she was straight. She had life in her, but did what she was told. Concerts and recitals and musicals a plenty. The days were good and filled to the brim. Graduation in a gym with grandpa and auntie, and sweet buddy Charlie and tear-filled Jamie.

College days were here. Wisdom teeth were pulled, grandma celebrated her last birthday, and this girl-woman got engaged. Graduation and showers and a wedding in two months. A move for school, another two years, and a stadium with thousands marked the end for women who knew how hard they worked to earn that graduate degree.

Time passed, and passed some more. A baptism was on that last page. She had her first, a new chapter. A baptism meant it was time for mama to stop filling the pages. But mama? She continued to mark each day, each memory, each moment in her heart. And although pages were no longer filled by mama, a new mama had been birthed, and she did what mama did. She filled pages with a lifetime of love.

From him the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work.  Ephesians 4:16

Amy

This girl, this woman in the making? Her name is Haylee. Half my years, I could have a daughter her age if I’d been a teen mom. But this young woman? She inspires me more than most twice my age.

We met three years ago. I didn’t expect to meet such a girl, but we clicked like that. Like we’d known each other forever, like we planned on knowing each other forever.

I passed barns and horses roaming free. I passed that house on the hill, admiring the open fields and tranquility. And then I discovered Haylee. She was part of it all, and it was as if I was meant to meet this girl.

Sometimes quiet, unassuming, not quite sure of her next step.

But bold and free is what I see.

Horses and riding she adores without shame.

Loves her friends and family with abandon.

Exudes energy I barely remember having.

Her faith years beyond mine at that age. A Rock she can call steady. She clings to that, and it’s clear.

No longer afraid to be the woman He called her to be.

Takes chances, follows His call wherever it may lead.

You see, she once said to me “You’re such an incredible woman. I look up to you and hope someday to become a great mom like you are.”

But I say in return, “You’re such an incredible woman. I look up to you and hope someday to become a great woman of character and wild abandon for life, like you.”

Two women. A generation apart. I, a role model for her. She, a role model for me. Just the way it was meant to be.

But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.  2 Corinthians 3:16-18

Amy

Today I am honored to share with you a guest post written by a friend from my childhood, Jason Erickson. Jason’s dad sustained a significant traumatic brain injury two years ago. Since the injury, I have been following Jason’s posts on CaringBridge, and have been continually moved by their family’s faithfulness and love for one another in the midst of such life changing trials. Before I launched the blog, I asked Jason if he would be willing to guest post about his dad. Although I originally intended him to guest post months ago, Valentine’s Day seems a perfect fit.

In this post, Jason shares the heart-warming and inspiring story about his parents – their love for one another, their love for their family, their love of an Almighty God, and the promises that remain true even in the face of a significant traumatic brain injury.  Jason so beautifully reminds us that we should not “take even one day for granted with those we love and cherish most.” 

Her words and the panicked sound of my mom’s voice will forever be etched into my mind. “Jason, come quickly, your dad is hurt really bad.” These were the words that introduced me to a life-changing chapter in the life of our family. As the helicopter made its way to the parking lot of our family-owned lumberyard to airlift my dad away, I was beginning to wonder if my life had changed forever, in the blink of an eye. What I would later find out on January 12, 2011, is that my dad had sustained a traumatic brain injury from a fall while working on an overhead garage door at our business. His initial prognosis was very dim, but now, over two years later, our family has grown closer and I have witnessed first hand the covenant my parents made to each other and before God.

The story of their marriage began on a typical fall day, for most of the world it would prove to be a very ordinary day. For a young couple, this day though, would mark their beginning. The beginning of a life together, one that would have many more ups than downs, many more smiles than frowns, and one unshakable foundation. On that fall day, October 24, 1970, I was not even a twinkle in my parents’ eyes, and little did I know how much of an impact that day in history would eventually have upon my life.

When I arrived on August 12, 1974, I was completely unaware of what had just occurred. Unaware of whose gentle hands tenderly held me, unaware whose loving eyes stared into mine, and unaware of whose hand caressed my head while whispering in my ear, “I love you.” Over the next few years, my love for these two people would grow exponentially. Initially, not even knowing who they were, to being the ones I looked to for love, support and strength.

My parents would provide all I would need growing up, including a foundation of faith. I remember growing up how important it was to show and tell how much we loved each other. I remember feeling my “love tank” fill up as my dad wrapped his arms around me to give me hug. I remember the special moments Jill, Mom, and I shared on the deck eating lunches during the warm days of summer. As I grew older, I began to admire more the relationship my parents had. Throughout my dating years, I recognized their marriage as one I would like to model my own after. Granted they were human, and their marriage was not perfect, but considering all life tends to throw at us, it was a very healthy relationship.

Growing up in our home, it was always comforting to hear my parents say that they loved each other. The love they shared was more than just words, it was nurtured and followed up by actions. Actions, not in the sense of expensive gifts, but in simple gestures of kindness – my dad scrubbing the kitchen floor at night even after a day of logging in the woods, my mom leaving supper for us when she had to work evenings at the hospital, and the fun-loving sight of seeing my dad steal a kiss from my mom as they walked into a restaurant. To some this may seem irrelevant in the greater scheme of life, but to a son and daughter, it helped provide the security needed in order to form the foundation of who we are today. Our home was a home in which two children knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that their parents loved each other, loved being together, and would stay that way until one day God would call one of them home.

Our family had the blessing of being a pretty normal family, even as Jill and I grew older and had families of our own. We all lived relatively close, so we could spend time together. Jill and I had all of our grandparents still living and we were all generally quite healthy, so life was very good.

The “normalcy” of life abruptly changed on that brisk winter January day in 2011. Initially, after the surgery to stop the bleeding on his brain, I didn’t know if my dad would live through the night, and even if he did, our family would have a new “normal.”

Since that difficult day in early 2011, my mom has not missed one day, or may I say, one opportunity to be with my dad. She has been with him, by his side each day, encouraging him, spending time with him, and making the most of what time they share together. Granted, it is not what she would have chosen for this stage of their life or their marriage. But on that fall day in 1970, her covenant before God and with my dad did not have an exit clause. As they stood in that small town Minnesota church, their promise to each other was not only for the good times, the safe times, or the easy times. It was a promise made for life, and included the words for better or worse, in sickness and in health. I’m sure they never would have envisioned this present day scenario, but then in reality, on one’s wedding day, who does envision such a tragedy?

While growing up, I admired my parents and their love for each other. Since my dad’s accident though, I still not only admire their love and devotion, but I now cherish it. I have witnessed, specifically on the part of my mom, her love for my dad lived out on a daily basis. A love that at this point, is not reciprocated in a way that she would choose, but nonetheless not prohibiting her from continuing to share it with dad. Considering the fact that my dad is still in a transitional care unit, I don’t necessarily know what my dad ponders as he is in his hospital room. We are hoping to eventually move him to a rehabilitation center, but for now he is still bed ridden and on a feeding tube. One thing I know he is not concerned with however, is the dedication and devotion of my mother. Each morning, whether sunny or snowy, when he opens his eyes he sees his bride, and each night as he closes them, he has the assurance that she’ll be there tomorrow. As a wife, she understands her need to make time for herself in order to remain healthy and “charged,” but there is always time and a place in her heart for dad.

My parents’ love for each other during this difficult time did not just happen. It is a love cultivated by many years of loving on each other. Years of loving acts that continued to bring them closer to each other, and in that, formed a bond that nothing in this world can break. As much as my parents love each other, and thus demonstrate that love for each other, that is only part of their story. On that day in October 1974, the covenant that my parents made with each other, at the same time, they also made with Christ. They promised themselves to each other, and their marriage to Him.

In a world that is not always conducive to keeping one’s marriage a priority, He was and is the rock that my parents have built their life on. I recently heard someone say, “sometimes God allows you to hit rock bottom, in order for you to find out, He is that rock.” That fact somewhat summarizes the past couple years of my parents’ marriage. This life is not always going to be easy, and there will be times we may wonder “why?” My dad used to remind me that in this life we were never promised it would be a rose garden. It is in the midst of these difficult times though, that we hold to our faith in Him, and His plan, even though we sometimes have many more questions than answers. It is this simple act of trust that brings us peace, knowing that His plan will ultimately work out for good, if we continue to put our faith in Him. Work out for good, not necessarily on this side of eternity, but we will one day understand “why” it had to occur.

One day my parents will say good-bye to each other on this earth. One day they will hold hands one final time. When that day arrives, they will let go of each other, knowing that this though, is not the end of their story. For there is coming a day when they will be reunited again and their tears will be wiped away, never to return. A day when the Rock they built their life on here, will welcome them home for eternity. It will be on that day, that their story, will simply become a smaller part of His-story.

As Valentine’s Day is upon us again, may we each remember our closest loved ones. May we not take even one day for granted with those we love and cherish most. As we celebrate the day that celebrates love, I am reminded of a few verses.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these…is love.  1 Corinthians 13

Jason Erickson