faith

Little Better

February 14, 2012 by Lisa

As she buried her head in my chest, I felt her shakes and I knew they were real. The tears were falling from a child, but the cries were from a grown-up place that I often wish my 6 year old didn’t have to visit.

I knew she had been struggling lately, that something was up. But it wasn’t until a walker stood between her and a much-anticipated tea party that I saw her heart.

“Why does she have to use that, Moooom. Just take her out so we can get started.”

I knew right then and there that all of this “rock star” walker business was getting to her. My heart ached at the thought, and my tongue was tempted to quickly “fix” her hurt. But this wasn’t the time. The table was set, the Princess music was already on full blast, and Kendall was anxiously waiting to do her welcome dance. So we all sat at the table, poured “tea” into mini tin cups and shared Rice Chex and raisins as if everything was okay.

It wasn’t until a few days later that I saw my chance. Jeff had sent Emma to her room for disrespecting him, and I quickly suggested that I do the “sit down” with her this time. After we talked about her behavior, I only had to mention Brooklyn’s walker before she broke down.

“Why does she have to have a walker? Why can’t she just walk like you and me.”

We had one of these kinds of conversations soon after Brooklyn started physical therapy, but that was before there were standers and walkers and lots of people acting like these were all good things. To an innocent heart and a praying big sister, these weren’t good things at all.

So we talked. We talked about Faith, we talked about miracles, and we talked about Heaven. We talked about sister love and playgrounds and God’s plan and dancing. We hugged and we cried, and when it was all said and done, she answered one of my greatest prayers in just seven simple words.

“Mom, you always make me feel better.”

Today, instead of playing Barbies with Kendall, she sat on the floor and played with Brooklyn until her bus came. When I told her it was time to get her coat on, she kissed Brooklyn on the head and promised her they would play some more as soon as she got home from school.

As Emma closed the door behind her, Brooklyn called out for her — “Me-maw!” — and started to inchworm crawl her way over to the door. Emma caught it all out of the corner of her eye and ran back, sneaking in one more kiss on her baby sister’s head before skipping up the driveway and heading off to 1st grade.

~Linking up with Just Write.~

Rock Star

February 3, 2012 by Lisa

They said there was no way to know her abilities. What she will or won’t be able to do.

Every case is different. Every child is different.

Wait and see. Wait and see.

Well, we have waited, and now we are seeing. Seeing miracles. Perhaps through a different lens than the rest of the world, but we are seeing miracles.

From the first day she kicked those legs, to the first day she sat up, to first day she scooted across that floor, to the first day she stood tall and proud.

And now we are here. Walking. A place that looks different than I ever would have imagined, but a place that is more beautiful than I ever could have dreamed.

Of course, there will be more milestones. More independence. More work. But I have no doubt she will amaze me every single time.

Just weeks ago, they said that she was “too young” to start using a walker.

“Mrs. Bonnema, these kids with Spina Bifida aren’t typically ready until 24 months, sometimes 3 years old.”

Well, my dear surgeon, perhaps you have forgotten what you told me 2 years ago. Words I have hung onto every day of her existence.

Every case is different. Every child is different.

She is different

and motivated

and stronger than you or I will ever be.

And perhaps, my dear surgeon, you haven’t met my God. Because He? Well, He can do anything. Through you, through me, and most certainly through these kids with Spina Bifida.

They are rock stars. Every one of them. Not because of their challenges, but because of how they overcome those challenges.

Our rock star has decided to skip the part where you fit her for a more mobile form of bracing. We will get fitted for that next week, but until then, she has decided that she’s not waiting for anyone to tell her what she is able to do. All she needed was some wheels, and thankfully God provided us with a therapist who ignored her age and her diagnosis — and only saw her abilities.

Apparently “wait and see” isn’t on Brooklyn’s agenda.

Yeah, total rock star.

Linking up with Small Style…
T-shirt: Okie Dokie (gifted)
Leg warmers: hand-made (gifted)
skirt: Baby Gap, niece hand-me-down
hair bow: Adornmegirl
shoes: Pedoodles, Kendall hand-me-downs

Push

December 15, 2011 by Lisa

So leave it to me to get on a good blogging roll and then come to a screeching halt after leaving my heart on the ~~page~~ screen for all to see.

I kinda feel like that last post needs some explanation, yet my hope was that it wouldn’t need one at all. I have to admit that I wonder what ya’ll thought of it. Not that this is a shameless plug for comments, but I do care what you think. Probably more than I should.

But, honestly, that’s one of the reasons I wrote the last post. Lately, I’ve been inspired to take chances. My whole life, I have played it safe. I have followed the rules and colored like WAAAY inside the lines. I still follow rules (just ask my hubby and my 6-year-old daughter), but I realize that I need to let my crayon travel outside those boundaries every once in a while. Like many other things, it is good for the soul.

So I have decided to push myself…in my work, my writing, and my faith. Taking chances not for the sake of taking chances, but to inspire myself to do more, to leave a mark. Even it means putting myself out there.

This blog is a “risk” for me. Yes, I am a writer by trade, but I am a journalist. I deal with research, facts, and figures. I write with my head. But this, this is my heart. And that is a scary thing.

But I am pushing myself. Writing about things that might make some people uncomfortable and playing with words in ways that would make my grammar teacher rip her hair out. Yes, we’re talking commas here, but it’s my crayon and my journey. I’m sure yours would look different, but that’s the point.

Push.

Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t about putting a spotlight on me or even this blog. If I only have 3 readers, so be it. It’s about feeling alive. It’s about amazing my God. It’s about inspiring my own children to feed their passions, to not settle for cozy and comfortable.

I feel called to be more. I feel we are all called to be more.

I literally watch this little girl push herself every single day… joyfully and with much determination. There are just so many things I take for granted. So many things that are EASY.

But the blessing, my friends, isn’t in the easy. It’s in the hard. The uncomfortable. The more.

Push.

Making it Work… (and linking up with Small Style)

Shirt: Target, Kendall hand-me-down
Skirt: Old Navy, Kendall hand-me-down
Tights: Baby Gap, niece hand-me-down

*P.S. Putting this brown skirt with a gray top was VERY outside of the lines for me. I know, I know… nothing says “carpe diem” like a brown skirt. Let’s call it “mocha,” shall we? 😉

In His Presence

December 6, 2011 by Lisa

The first thing she felt was the grass tickling her feet. It was cool, yet inviting; each blade soft to the touch, but firm enough to find its way between each of her toes. The sensation, she realized, was new. She didn’t want to open her eyes — not yet. Something made her want to savor the feeling for just a little while longer.

She stretched out her left leg and felt the tickle crawl from her feet to her ankle, up her leg, until it stopped at her knees where her dress began. She then stretched her right leg, taking the time to lengthen it ever so slowly.

Savor.

The weight of her legs was now making imprints in the soft grass, grounding her, yet the feeling pulsing through her body made her want to fly.

She opened her eyes. The light before her was blinding — blue and white with flecks of golds and silver. Even in its brilliance, it was mesmerizing, drawing her in and making her see more clearly.

And that’s when she saw Him. He had been watching her the whole time. He too had been waiting for this moment. The smile on His face mimicked the feeling spreading throughout her whole body.

Pure joy.

Their eyes met, and He nodded. It was time.

She looked down at her new body and slowly bent her knees, using her hands to push her legs up, until finally she was standing. The movement was graceful, easy. As if this was how it was always meant to be.

She looked back at Him, eyes wide, and He held out his arms. Her first step was careful and slow, but as she felt the weight of her body on the lush ground beneath her, she began to walk faster and faster, until finally she was running. Running as fast as she could until she fell into His arms and thanked Him. Over and over and over.

Thank you.

As they pulled away, His hand touched her cheek and He searched her eyes for any questions. She had none.

He smiled again.

His arms invited her to leave if she wanted to. As she looked around, she saw that some were dancing, leaping, while others sang in unison. Their praise permeated the air, creating new breath. She inhaled.

She saw others walking through the fields, laughing and talking; children skipping and running; the flowers swaying to the rhythm of their joy. Her soul warmed.

Then she saw those gathered at His feet — peaceful and still — and she knew where she wanted to be, just for a little while longer.

She slowly bent her knees, lowering her body back onto the grass, and simply sat in His presence. As if this was how it was always meant to be.

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And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Look! God’s dwelling place is now among the people, and he will dwell with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. ‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

He said to me: “It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To the thirsty I will give water without cost from the spring of the water of life. Those who are victorious will inherit all this, and I will be their God and they will be my children.”

Revelation 21:3-7 NIV

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