My Story, family

Write! Part 6

brittanymputman

I closed the door, made sure it was locked and then the tears unleashed like two waterfalls cascading from my eyes. I hadn’t expected to break down in a hospital bathroom, but I couldn’t make it down the hall without breaking, let alone out to my car. Would I ever see my sister alive again?

Halfway through the day…

…Let’s rewind. I’m at the hospital seeing my sister after she had had multiple brain surgeries. There would be no more. I had one day to visit her and one day only. Here I was, flown half way across the country and I was just hoping for a morsel of time with my big sister. …About half way through the day, my friend, Vanessa, arrived at Lynette’s hospital room. She was taking over the shift from Shaun, Lynette’s husband. Vanessa would be with Lynette for the remainder of the afternoon and throughout the night. Vanessa is what we’d call ‘a helper, caretaker, nurturer, etc’. If there was ever anyone who needed a helping hand, Vanessa was there to lend one. She was instrumental as being the ‘sister’ close by when all of us siblings were too far away to be of use. Vanessa helped in a myriad of ways, some known and many unknown. Her sacrifice, and her family’s sacrifice, hold a dear place in my heart. They gave so much of themselves for the sake of Lynette’s family during this dark and confusing time.

Backstory…

I first met Vanessa at the opening night of the School of Kingdom Ministry (SoKM) class of 2016. She was there with her husband, sister, and almost four month old daughter! Together they were going ‘all in’ to learn more about how to partner with the Holy Spirit, but little did we all know the friendship that would begin from that time forward. I went over and introduced myself. I mean, I was totally drawn like a moth to a flame to that tiny baby. I had to meet these people that were so hungry to learn about the ways of God that they’d come even with a child so young.

10 years later and our friendship is still going strong.

Over the next few months I saw them on and off, but didn’t have a lot of extra interactions beyond the kind ‘hello’ at church. Multiple times Vanessa and her sister invited me out to eat with them and the SoKM team, but I usually declined due to my own schedule with work and kiddos. However, all my evading …I say evading because that might have been truthfully what I was doing… because I was tired and it was hard to make new relationships… all that evading finally fell through and these two gals found a way to meet me on the terms I could deal with. We ate together and I realized how fun they were. They weren’t taking tons of energy from me and my limited supply. In fact, I think I might have even gained energy after being with them. I actually enjoyed myself. 

Well, next came piano lessons… you see, I run a voice and (formerly) piano studio. Vanessa asked me to teach a few of her kids and so each week, she was in my home waiting in the living room while I taught her kids. We’d have a little chat here and there before or after the lessons. She welcomed my kids to play in the living room with her non-lesson kids while I taught. Pretty soon I found myself looking forward to her family lesson times. I welcomed her with a fresh home-made latte to drink while I taught her sweet kiddos and she enjoyed being with all the kids (and my hired babysitter too!).

During that time, life was getting overwhelming for me. I didn’t know how to manage the stress in my life and I lived in fear of having another panic attack. Of course, at that time I didn’t know that’s what was happening to me. I only knew I was awfully afraid of being sick and that feeling of nausea-sickness was how my anxiety manifested. I remember picking my kids up from school one time and on the drive home feeling that sense of bodily overwhelm. I can still picture the road I was driving down. I debated in my head whether I was truly sick or not. Should I teach lessons that afternoon? I just didn’t feel ‘right’. I felt off my equilibrium enough that I contacted Vanessa and canceled her children’s lessons. She didn’t bat an eye, even when I told her that I wasn’t sure if I was really sick or just afraid that I’d get sick while she was there. She took it all in stride. She didn’t judge me or pressure me. She just listened, accepted, and made space for me as I was, even if that was a broke, anxious person. It was those real-vulnerable moments that I found she could be trusted. She didn’t expect me to be perfect or have it all together. She just wanted to be a part of my life and have me be a part of hers.

During this time of friendship with Vanessa, my sister moved to town! I made a Meal Train for my network of friends and family to sign up to bring a meal to her family while they were still settling in. Vanessa talks about it in her book, Rise Up and Walk:

All day, I simmered my own version of pasta fagioli soup. It smelled heavenly throughout our home as I busied myself prepping and praying that it tasted as good as it smelled. I put together a salad, and in the early evening, I got everyone in the car for the 25-minute drive across town. Holding a box of food, I nervously walked up to their front door, rang the bell, and waited.

Lynette opened her door with a bright smile and two young children shyly peeking around their mama. I walked into her home, unsure of myself, and she eased my nerves with conversation and a light in her eyes that spoke of kindness, goodness, and joy. She was forward in her questions to quickly get to know me, but warm in her welcome. I had intended to be the one to help her feel welcome, and when I left her home, I was the one who felt touched and blessed by her family through their genuine interest in mine.

Vanessa was now connected to my sister. They had a growing friendship that lasted until Lynette’s passing. Vanessa was that friend who was ‘closer than a brother’ during this tragic illness. Vanessa’s life story is intertwined with mine and with my sister’s. Our life stories are intertwined with hers. For that, I’m grateful. And so, one can see why I was happy to see her at the hospital that afternoon.

She’s awake!…

While Lynette slept, Vanessa and I chatted. We caught up on what was happening in each others’ lives and what was happening with Lynette. We shared our sad feelings and our joyful memories. Together we supported each other through this hard stretch filled with so many unknowns. Then, an answer to prayer… Lynette awakened! I had been so worried that Lynette would sleep through my one-day visit, but she didn’t. What a gift. Praise the Lord!

Vanessa, Lynette, and Me

I talked with my sister, while Vanessa hung back from the conversation. She knew it was important to give us time and space to be together. It was really special. I was so thankful for these next few hours. But, as much as I wanted to be my sister’s sole focus of attention, I could tell I wasn’t. Vanessa had been so present for so long in all of this that when Lynette needed something, it was Vanessa she looked for. I could see the kinship that had grown between them. Vanessa knew Lynette’s rhythms and needs almost with being asked. They had spent so many days and nights together in the hospital and it was obvious from their interactions. It hurt my heart because I wanted to be that close to my sister throughout these cancer days, but how could I argue with the clear truth in front of me? I hadn’t been able to be with her through the thick and thin of things over the past months. I hadn’t been with her in her most intense pain, nor had I spent the sleepless nights with her.

It was hard to accept. I had my own internal struggle with what felt like a preference for my friend over me, her sister. It wasn’t a feeling that I was annoyed with either of these women, but a sadness for the lack in my own relationship with Lynette. Time and distance had gotten between us. And now, the sickness was between us. Would I have that chance to be more in tune with her again? …Or was this my last time being with her? The future was so uncertain. It was hopeful because she was finally stable enough for chemo and radiation, but still so full of doubt because there wouldn’t be anymore surgeries to fix things if it went downhill in her brain again. I had no idea what the future held her, for us, or for our relationship.

This visit with Lynette was really hard. It wasn’t what I had hoped for. We didn’t get as much waking time together as I had hoped. I didn’t feel like my sister was longing for me like I wanted to be longed for. I saw the people who truly stepped in during this crisis and how that caused bonding that I would never get. The uncertainty for the future overshadowed the visit and even basic hospital things, like nurses and medicines came to interrupt the time. I wanted to shout, “This isn’t enough! I want more! Why is it like this? What’s going to happen next? What will be the future? I want more. More time! More health! More attention. More connection.” …

I just wanted more of everything. It didn’t feel fair. I traveled all this way. I have a lifetime of memories with my sister and now it was all coming to an end. It was crashing around me. My idyllic sisterhood was crumbling. Death was so close it felt within reach. We were pushing against it with all our might, but it was coming. When would it snatch my sister from this life? When would our final ‘Hello’ echo in my memory? And when it did… how long would it last? Would that too fade away? Would my last hug be this night? Would my arms encircle my sister one last time? How long would they feel the warmth of her returned touch? How long can I keep the memory of the final hug? The final kiss on the cheek. The final ‘Goodbye, I love you’ that’s whispered into the space between us. How long? Whatever it would be, it wouldn’t be long enough.

Not Enough Time…

With the weight of the emotions heavy on me, I saw the clock tick towards the end of visiting hours. I soaked up as much time with Lynette and Vanessa as I could before I’d have to leave. Only the person who was staying overnight with her could stay past visiting hours. Truth be told, the overnight shift was offered to me. But I turned it down. I felt weak and incapable. Incapable from a medical stand point – I didn’t really know what she needed like those who had been there night after night – and weak from an emotional stand point – I was still riding the rollercoaster of anxiety and burnout, while barreling towards the next big thing. I just couldn’t say ‘Yes’ in that moment. And so, I said my final goodbye to Lynette and to Vanessa. I knew she’d be in good hands with Vanessa nearby. As I walked towards the door, I looked back and made eye-contact with Vanessa. With no words, she said, “I know. It’s hard. It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of her while you head back home.”

Tears filled my eyes. I turned away and exited the hospital room. I found myself in a brightly-lit, hospital corridor. The tears spilled over. It was all I could do to keep the sob pressed down in my throat while I quickly raced towards an exit. There it was. A bathroom! I could make it to the privacy of the bathroom. I ducked inside and the while locking the door, the groaning sob tore from my throat. I muffled it as best I could. The tears poured down my face and my nose ran with so much snot. It was not pretty, but it was very real. My heart was being torn for my sister in that moment. All the love and agony pouring out. I had just finished one of the hardest things in my life – seeing my big sister in person, so weak from cancer and lying in a hospital bed, with no certainty if I’d every see her alive again. I was heart broken.

(To be continued in a future blog post)…

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Bible, family, God, My Story, Travel

Write! Part 5

brittanymputman

Paradox…

Even though I highlight how hard it was for me to make those trips out to see my sister, Lynette, I would be remiss if I didn’t also say, I wanted to see her too. It’s a funny paradox that I could fight so hard internally to not do something, when it’s also something I truly wanted to do. How is that so? I suppose it’s the complex nature of being human. So, at this point in my story, I made the necessary steps towards another trip to the East Coast. I hopped on a plane to spend one full day at the hospital with my sister. I didn’t plan to see any of the family this time, just Lynette. Just one day with my sister, …in case it was the last chance to see her. One day to say the ‘last things’. One day to create final memories. One… Day…

I put a lot of expectations on that trip. Without having anything concrete to grab hold of, I prepared for the worst. I packed my bags not knowing if I’d see Lynette, being improved or writhing from another nauseatingly painful headache. Would she be awake to talk with or would she be quiet – the quiet that leads to eternal sleep? What was I getting into? What emotions would my heart be confronted with over this fast weekend? Maybe I could just put my best face forward, push aside the biggest ‘what ifs’, and walk boldly into the sterile environment of the hospital. … And that’s what I did. 

My kids sent me with their stuffies!

I arrived in town late in the evening and had an Uber take me to my hotel room, one that a dear family friend paid for with his reward points. I settled into bed, exhausted and unsure of what to expect. I was in a beautiful comfortable space, but the void of being alone was deeply felt. I sent a few quick texts to my family back home and grabbed a book. Could I read long enough to doze off? Thankfully, it worked. I fell asleep that night and when I woke, I got ready for the big day ahead. When I arrived at the hospital, I called Shaun, my sister’s husband, and found my way to Lynette’s room. 

The Next Right Thing…

My memory becomes fuzzy at this point. Was she awake or asleep when I walked in? Does it matter? The early part of that visit lives in my memory as individual disjointed pieces – Pieces that don’t necessarily fit into any order. Pieces that come in and out of focus and therefore blur the lines of precision. What I remember might not be the exact reflection of what took place, but it’s what’s stayed with me and how it’s become nestled into my life story.

Taking this trip was my ‘next right thing’ (see previous post). Walking into the hospital was the ‘next, next right thing’. Walking into my sister’s room with a deep breath and a resolve to carry on, was the next right thing. A prayer, ‘Lord help me’. I lift up the corners of my mouth into a smile and walked forward. I entered the room and greeted Shaun with a smile. I made it. I did it! I was here with my sister. I think the room was dark when I arrived. She was still sleeping, about ready to wake up. I chatted with Shaun about how she was doing and how my trip was. As she stirred, Shaun went to her side to say ‘Good morning’. He was always sweetly attentive to Lynette. She groggily greeted him while I tried to busy myself with looking somewhere else. I didn’t want to intrude in what felt like an intimate moment. Yet, I was there… in the room. I couldn’t help but be a witness to the relationship built over years of marriage – good, easy times and working through difficulties together. This is intimacy that time and commitment builds. This is intimacy that looks at the other and sees her as a person in need of help and him as a person who can help. There is trust in this interchange, deep trust.

As she got herself more awake, we said ‘hello’ to each other. Shaun ran downstairs to get her a coffee treat from the food court and she prepared for breakfast. It was good to see her eat. Isn’t that funny to say? Yet another thought we don’t expect to think. It was good to see my sister eat. Having an appetite was a good sign of how she was feeling. Yet, I could see how the weeks in the hospital and this illness had taken a toll on her, mentally and bodily. She was slower to move, slower at speech. Her left side still wasn’t ‘working’ and she was sleepy. Another memory of my sister that I’d rather not have. Another data point of the weakness that comes when a body and mind are fighting for health and survival. 

Lynette’s will to remain alive was strong. For a person who seldom seemed to follow after the latest medical advice, she knew with this disease, she must seek every option available – medical and natural. The day I traveled out to see her was the same day she had her first chemo and radiation. She was deemed stable enough to start treatments. I wasn’t expecting this at all! I still wasn’t sure how this would affect her health and our visit, but there was a glimmer of hope. 

After breakfast Lynette slept for a good part of the morning. She ended up feeling really nauseous and since that had meant pressure on her brain in the weeks earlier, I was bracing myself for the worst. Would she be in this pain that doesn’t end all day? All day on the one day that I’m here to see her? Would this be the memory I take away with me? Luckily, it wasn’t. 

Actually, I had forgotten this part until I reread the Facebook Prayer Posts that her husband faithfully made daily during this time. So, when my mind was jogged about the nausea, the memory came back. The worry and fear is tangible again as I write this out. I was scared. I just didn’t want to see my sister in such pain. It’s hard to see someone you love be in pain, especially when there’s no way to soothe that hurt. It’s something you can endure when you know there’s an end to it, like when my kid has a headache and I know 30 minutes after taking some pain medicine he or she is likely to feel mostly normal again. But this intense pain was one that seemingly had no end. This pain was one that in the past meant surgery again and again. I’m no medical professional. I’m only a sister hoping to see my sister hold on long enough to beat back this disease, this cancer.  I am a bystander. I can observe, I can do my best to comfort, but I couldn’t take it away from her. I could only pray and trust that her nurses and doctors could give her something that would make her feel better. 

Thankfully, she did get relief from the nausea and it became clear that it was more likely to have been due to her first chemo and radiation treatments from the day before rather than from tumor growth and pressure. Phew! What a relief. But, unfortunately for her, she was also going to have to have a lot more chemo and radiation in her future. The nausea subsided and Lynette fell asleep. I spent a good portion of the day in a dimly lit hospital room quietly talking with Shaun while Lynette slept. She slept most of the morning and afternoon. Then she was taken away for her second radiation treatment. When she returned she slept some more.

At this point, I was feeling impatient and jealous of the sleep. I wanted time with my sister, conscious time. I wanted to talk to her, laugh with her, and cry with her. I wanted to connect with my big sister and all I ended up doing was watching her sleep. This wasn’t fun. It didn’t feel meaningful. I was bored and anxious – anxious for the dwindling hours I had left to visit with her. Unless I spent the night, I had to leave when visiting hours ended. I wanted more time! Internally I was struggling with feelings of being deprived of the hours with my sister. Doubts about whether I was wasting my time and all the things that went into this trip assailed me. What was I doing? What was the purpose of all this? If I could’ve thrown a mini tantrum, I just might have. 

Birch-Tree-Pillars…

This was not turning out to be the trip I wanted it to be. I was tired, uncomfortable, and still felt scared deep inside. What was I scared of? Well, losing my sister. Losing that person who’s known me all my life. Losing all the shared memories and random conversations. Losing that person who tells me things like it is without apology. Losing a person who’s a strong pillar in my life. She was an anchor for me at times and at other times a rudder. Yes, that might seem extreme, and I don’t mean she was ALWAYS those things, but she certainly was a person who helped guide me from time to time. She pointed me to Jesus and logical sense. I miss that aspect of our relationship. The metaphorical “pillar” she left behind is embedded in me now and it won’t be going anywhere, but it also won’t be growing and changing anymore. There are other internal “pillars” growing up and shifting around the “Lynette pillar”. But hers is now stationary and set. It’s not living and active anymore. That’s a hard truth to accept and also hard to express. 

Photo by Karolina Grabowska http://www.kaboompics.com: https://www.pexels.com/photo/birch-forest-5616/

If I close my eyes, it’s like I can see a mental picture of a forest of pillars, meaningful pillars for my life. They look like the brown-spotted, white trunks of birch trees – tall, slim, strong, beautiful, close together. But her ‘birch-tree-pillar’ has turned to gray stone. It’s now a bit more of a monument. The other ‘pillars’ in my life are still growing. They still remain rooted when the wind blows, but they bend and shift as the seasons dictate. There is room for flexibility in my growing forest of birch-tree-pillars, but not hers. 

This makes me ask, what are pillars in my life? What makes something stick internally? Are these metaphorical pillars always people? Can they be maxims that I live my life by? Are they experiences? Do I see Jesus as a pillar or is he something else? Something grander, something stronger, something more stable and more true? So, I close my eyes and see that forest of birch-tree-pillars. I search for a tree that’s thicker or taller than the others, as I assume a Jesus-pillar would be. I can’t see one. I look for an object, maybe something made of stone that’s pillar-like and big, strong, imposing… I don’t see one. I feel ashamed. Where is my Jesus-pillar in this forest? I know He’s as important as my sister, as the church I grew up in, as my family, and all the things I’ve learned and held onto in my life. Indeed, he’s more important. So, where is the pillar of Jesus? Why can’t I find it?

In a quiet panic, I drill my mind to think about what defines pillars. Maybe there’s something I’m missing. I ask AI to tell me about  pillars in the Bible. I know there must be an answer, but I can’t seem to find it. Everything comes up dry. I take a break. I re-engage. Nothing… Isn’t Jesus a pillar? A support? A person who is reliable and central in my life? Yes, He is! So, where is my Jesus-pillar in this mental picture? Wait…maybe He isn’t a pillar. Maybe He is something else. What is it that the Bible calls him? What does the Scripture say about him in architectural terms? I pray, “God, what is Jesus in these terms?” Then it comes to me. “Cornerstone.” Mark 12:10 says, “‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.”.Jesus is called the cornerstone. 

Jesus, My Foundation and Cornerstone…

A peace settles over me. Wow, I couldn’t find Jesus in my forest of birch-tree-pillars because He isn’t one.  That’s okay and actually right! He isn’t a pillar. He is THE CORNERSTONE. This fear that I somehow was being told by my mental picture that Jesus wasn’t central since He wasn’t in my pillar-forest, was actually pointing exactly to His proper place. Jesus isn’t just a pillar added to support me. He is the cornerstone, the Foundation. He is the first stone set to orient and anchor the entire structure of my life (paraphrase of a definition from AI of what a cornerstone is). In this same AI overview it said, “While both [pillars and cornerstones] symbolize strength, the cornerstone defines the starting point, whereas pillars provide ongoing structural support.”

That’s it! Yes! Jesus is my starting point. He is my foundation. He is what points me in the direction I should go. John 1:1-4 in the Bible says, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.” Of course, this is it. God is good to remind me of these things. The things that I know deep down, but that fly out of my mind when other things try to crowd in. I thought I was looking for Jesus as a pillar, but I needed to look back to the beginning. He is the one who began all that I know and it’s on His safe, secure, and firm foundation that I build my life. The pillars in my life support this and that’s also why they are so meaningful. They continue to point me towards Jesus and the life He asks me to live. Because of Him I can do all things – even take a deep breath and with a resolve to carry on, do the next right thing… walk into that hospital room and wholeheartedly LOVE my sister in any state I would find her in.

Lynette has been a pillar in my life, but Jesus is my foundation and cornerstone.

(To be continued in a future blog post)…

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family, God, My Story

Write! Part 4

brittanymputman

Kid Sister…

She looked at me and said, ‘When I think about my upcoming surgery, I’m scared. But then I think about how you went through three surgeries with your c-sections. If you did it, I can do it. It gives me a lot of comfort knowing that you went through surgeries before me.’ I was a bit stunned to hear Lynette, my big sister, share this me. First, that ‘little sister complex’ keeps telling me that I don’t have much to offer my big sister. But here she is telling me that I’ve been through something she’s never been through and that’s giving her courage and comfort! Secondly, she was referring to my c-sections, of which I always felt that she was a staunch opponent of unless really medically necessary. I had my first child by c-section out of medical necessity and my other two were arguably necessary. I guess it just depends on who’s standards you’re using.

I always felt a little bit like I let my sister down when I had my babies by c-section. She was the ‘au naturalel’ childbirth woman and I assumed I’d follow in her footsteps (or rather, six labors before even my first one). But due to uncontrollable circumstances, I definitely went to the opposite end of the spectrum. She never came down on me for this, but I didn’t feel much like a champion childbirther around her either. So, I just didn’t talk much about my birthing choices with her. Now, here she was redeeming my choices of agreeing to c-sections for my babies and re-writing what I assumed she thought about me and my childbirth outcomes. The area where our life stories took two distinct paths now had a bridge. My three surgeries now held something that Lynette needed – courage. She needed to know that she could make it through her surgeries. It gave her encouragement that her kid sister had done it and so she could do it too. What a gift she gave me in telling me how that was meaningful to her. As strange as it may seem, it made me feel closer to her and like I was helping her in some small way. I felt connected to her in a new way and thankful for my past experience with surgeries. Here I was feeling helpless, but unknown to me, something about my lived experience was aiding my sister through the big surgery ahead. 

Time to Say Goodbye (for now)…

My time to say goodbye had come. After a few days of visiting, seeing my sister, her family, and my mom and brother who had come to visit, it was time for me to head back home. Saying goodbye was difficult. The next day she was having her first brain surgery to remove as much of the tumor as possible. I questioned, ‘Would she make it through? Would she live? Can they, the medical community, fix this?’ There was no assurance that she would be back to normal, doing better, or doing worse than at this very moment. All I had to hold onto was the last few days from our visit together. I felt unsure, but somewhat hopeful. I hoped that the doctors could remove all of her tumor. I hoped that this would stop her seizures. I hoped that this would give her movement back on her left side. I hoped it would be the end of her cancer. 

As I woke up the next morning to catch my flight, my sister was ‘catching’ her ride to the hospital. She’d be having brain surgery while I was flying home. (What a strange sentence. I never expected that to be a sentence I’d ever write.) I made it home without any trouble and anxiously awaited the news of her surgery. Surgery was finished! The good news is that the doctor thought he had gotten 90% of the tumor. A later MRI revealed he had gotten about 95% of it! Praise the Lord. That was wonderful news and put me into a good place as my family headed south to visit my mom and brother’s family in central Illinois. 

We already had travel plans to head south before I made my big leap to the east coast of the United States. So, when we arrived to visit with my brother and sister-in-law, we joked about how long it had been since we saw each other. Yes, this was the brother who I just saw at my sister’s house. We updated our spouses by sharing about our experience and shared our sadness over our sister’s cancer diagnosis. It was just as hard on my brother to see his big sister in such an immobile state. Jesse, my brother, has SUCH a big heart. His love is big and that love goes out to his big sister too. I’m sure he could fill pages with memories too. They argued and wrestled with each other, but they also were each other’s playmate all throughout their childhood. A favorite picture is one where they shared a pair of Dad’s coveralls! Their two small frames could fit inside of one pair of Dad’s large coveralls. The smiles from the photo show such joy and love on their faces. 

Lynette & Jesse in Dad’s Coveralls

While we were all finally relaxing together, we got a text from Shaun, her husband. He was asking us to pray again for Lynette. She wasn’t feeling the greatest and needed some prayer. Immediately we four stopped what we were doing and right then and there, we prayed. We prayed with much hope and belief that whatever was afflicting her would stop because we were praying for her. We sent a photo of the four of us because we just so happened to be together. Shaun responded that Lynette liked the picture and could really sense those prayers. Her pain was even subsiding a bit! We happily praised the Lord and continued our time together.

On the day we were getting ready to head back home, Jesse and I shared breakfast together. It was a relaxed breakfast as we had our last bits of time to talk. As we ate, we once again reflected on Lynette and how this affected us and how it affected our family. With our emotions heightened, we started to cry. Just a little bit of tears and some nervous laughter to follow. It was just really hard. Our big sister was very ill and we were so far from her. We didn’t know what to expect. We didn’t know if we’d continue to have all our siblings or if one day, we’d be taking pictures with one less. As we wrestled with our feelings, we also joked in an effort to keep things light. In the last minutes before we headed out, it was time to take a quick picture together. With tears in our eyes, but smiles on our lips, we captured a moment of real connection between us, the two youngest siblings – Jesse and Brittany.

Jesse and me after a teary-eyed breakfast

Updates on the Journey…

Over the next week, I waited anxiously for updates. Lynette’s husband posted regular updates for all to see and I am ever so thankful for those. Each day we got to hear about the progress she was making. Each day, he posted prayer requests so we could pray along with the family. Each day brought more hope as we saw small, but steady improvement. I was so relieved. Her speech was improving. She could wiggle her left leg a bit. Her appetite had returned. All signs pointed towards continued improvement until a week out from her surgery. Suddenly she had a massive headache. Her pain was at a 10 out of 10 and the doctors had to keep increasing the medicine to get her pain level to decrease. Unsure of what was going on, they took her for a CT scan. This scan revealed that she had an infection in her incision sight. So, they had to get her back into surgery to clean out the site (Sept. 8.). What an anxious day that was! Later, cultures would reveal that she had a staff infection and would need 6 weeks of IV antibiotics and a longer hospital stay.

After feeling hope lift and lift for 6 days, it was really hard to comprehend what could be happening with this sudden headache. And when it didn’t resolve overnight, that was even more confusing. What’s happening? Her tumor is mostly gone, it’s practically not there anymore. How could she possibly be having what felt like a relapse? Why is this happening to her? She’s supposed to be getting better. She’s supposed to just keep on improving. This is not the trajectory I had imagined. I wrestled with the feelings of disappointment, discouragement, and confusion. The question, ‘Why’? came to mind over and over again. It didn’t make sense. I didn’t understand it. AND… I didn’t want to accept it. Setbacks were not allowed in my book. 

Yet, the next five and a half weeks was only setbacks it seemed. One after another. This infection was a very tricky one and pesky too. It wouldn’t resolve and sent her back to surgery two more times (Sept. 23 & Oct. 7). From headaches, to swelling, to a breakthrough seizure (Sept. 28) and a bit of tumor growth, things weren’t looking the greatest. After five brain surgeries (Biopsy, original surgery, 3 clean ups), they’d be reluctant to do anymore surgeries if something further happened to her. I started to worry that maybe things wouldn’t resolve this time. It was getting pretty serious and I felt the fear and grief course through me. As I cried to my husband about these hard developments, he told me in no uncertain terms, that I needed to go out there again. All I could see were the obstacles: There’s no time! There’s no money! We are traveling to a retreat soon! I have my teaching schedule!

Building Resilience…

 All these were really just excuses though. Yet again I was afraid to travel out to see my sister on my own. What was I going to do? I didn’t want my sister to die. I didn’t want to say goodbye. I didn’t think I had the inner strength to go through with a visit to seeing her in a hospital! … And personally, hospitals are not my favorite place to be … and on and on I went. One excuse after another because it was just so hard to face the inevitable. It’s hard to do BIG things, at least for me. It’s hard to put myself into uncomfortable situations. Yet, that’s a big part of life. It’s a big part of what we want our children to learn. You can do HARD things! You CAN! How many times have I said that to my kids? Each of them face their own giants and each of them must learn to overcome them. Resiliency isn’t something we get to choose to have or not have. It is essential to the human experience. We must grow in resiliency and each small step, or big step, grows us in that. This was yet another step in my growth towards more resiliency.

Could I handle this step? Would it overtake me? Or would I somehow make it through? Would God be with me and carry me in this most hard time? What was I going towards and how would I get through it? 

…I’ll write about the trip in my next post. But, I wanted to take a moment and just sit with this a bit. Things get hard, really hard. We have choices to make left and right. Sometimes we have people beside us who can coach us and encourage us, like I had my husband. And other times we just have to move forward and take the next step regardless of whether or not we have a team cheering us on. Either way, I’m thankful for my faith because it means I’ll never go alone. Even when I’m literally alone on this physical earth, I still have the presence of Jesus and his Holy Spirit with me. I have relied more times than I know on the strength and hope that resides in Jesus. It’s not a ‘given’ that I’ll feel him with me, but it is a PROMISE that he’ll never leave me. That is the confidence I take with me into hard things. And with him, and through facing hard things repeatedly, I have grown in resilience and can face the next hard, big, and ‘right thing’.

I’ll leave you with this song from the movie Frozen 2 called ‘The Next Right Thing’. This song comes after Anna has apparently lost everything – her sister, her traveling buddy, and even her way. Yet, she rises up and puts one foot in front of the other because there’s still life and people out there. She still has an assignment or mission to the people she leads and those she cherishes. She will rise and move forward and with that, gain confidence in each step. May the Lord bless each of us to take the next steps with Him daily.

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Write! Part 3

brittanymputman

Here On Earth…

The seizures gripped her. That’s really the only word to use to describe what seemed to be happening in that moment. The tumor in her brain caused all this. Her husband was close by and she turned her gaze towards him. Her eyes pleaded, ‘Help me.’ As I stood to the side, I watched a man full of love for his wife and faith in his Creator, call out for Lynette’s relief. Even though she was on medicine to dampen the seizures, they still overtook her left hand and arm multiple times an hour. I don’t know how frequently they came, I just remember how hard it was to watch… over and over again. The seizure would start, her husband knelt down by his wife, grabbed her hand and helped in the ways they had discovered limited the pain. As her hand would clamp down into a fist, Shaun worked to open it back up. This was helpful and gave her a bit of relief from the pain. At the same time, she locked eyes with the one she pledged to spend her life with. He locked eyes with her and prayed. He commanded the seizure to stop. He released healing over her brain and nerves. He sought the Lord to intercede and bring healing in the name of Jesus for this time and this place. Over and over again, I watched this dance between Lynette, the seizure, Shaun, and God.

What a powerful image I beheld. The way they locked eyes spoke volumes of not only their love for each other, but the trust they had for each other. Lynette found safety in Shaun, and Shaun found safety in Jesus. Their gaze communicated all that needed to be said. They derived strength from each other and from God to make it through another seizure until it subsided. Eventually, Shaun was called away to help with something in the home. With another seizure ended, Lynette and I could start back up with our conversation. I loved having these moments with her. Just she and I, sisters. We didn’t talk about too much, not anything too deep. We were just with each other, together, side by side. That was enough. That was the space we needed to fill in those moments. 

Then it happened. Another seizure came, but Shaun couldn’t come in to help this time. I was there. It was my time to help. I grabbed her hand and asked if she needed me to open it. She nodded with pain in her eyes. As her hand tightened around mine, I worked to pry open her fingers. The wrestling was real and she was unable to control it. Her tumor had taken over and caused her body to tense and tighten. My hand was the only thing between her fingernails digging into her own palm. And then I prayed. “God, would you heal Lynette. Right now Lord, remove this tumor from her. Seizures, STOP in the name of Jesus. Tumor SHRINK in Jesus’ name. Health and healing come. Let the Holy Spirit’s healing be released over Lynette’s brain right now.” I continued to pray in this fashion until finally her muscles began to relax. Her fingers and arm released the tight hold and fell back, slumped against her side. The seizure had passed. This happened a number of times while I was alone with her. It was hard to see my sister in pain.

Unto Life…

It reminded me of back when I was 15 years old and it was Thanksgiving day. We had just finished up a wonderful meal with my aunt and uncle and Lynette and Shaun. Lynette didn’t eat much that day. She was in a bit of labor, but not enough to head to the hospital. Her first child was going to make her debut soon! We were all so excited and were just waiting for the moment when she’d need to rush to the hospital. But, it didn’t come during dinner and it was time to say goodbye to our guests. While Mom and Shaun walked my aunt and uncle out to the car, Lynette said that she needed to use the bathroom before they headed home. I was still in the house when I heard Lynette scream. “Ah! My water broke! Brittany, get me a towel! Tell Shaun!” A flurry of activity hit our house and before I knew it, Shaun had whisked Lynette off to the hospital. Mom and I followed suit as quickly as we could.

Soon we were ushered to the labor and delivery room where Lynette was dressed in hospital garb and hooked up to a few monitoring machines. I had never been in a room with a woman in labor before. What was all this stuff? Lynette explained that one of the machines monitored her contractions. She always found ways to teach what she knew, even in the rests between contractions. Then I heard Shaun say, “It looks like another one is coming,” his eyes watching the paper read out. He sat down next to her. He took her hand in his and looked deeply into Lynette’s eyes. She locked her gaze to his and then we heard him count, “1…2…3…” and so on. As he counted, Lynette breathed in and out. She looked to Shaun to regulate her breathing and therefore her pain. She hadn’t taken any pain medicine! This was how they chose to start labor, trusting each other, eyes and hands locked, and understanding and loyalty that transcended the pain of the contraction. Afterall, each contraction was unto something. Each one brought them closer to meeting their first child. 

Brittany visiting Lynette after her third child was born

At some point, Shaun needed to step away from Lynette’s bedside and I was invited to sit near her. I happily chatted in my 15 year old, little sister way. She listened and responded, weary as she was. Suddenly, her stomach began to contract and I felt her hand in mine. She held tight and looked into MY eyes. At 15, I didn’t know what to do. I had never seen that look of pain mixed with a bit of trepidation and pleading from her. She bored  into my eyes and I knew it was my turn. I had watched Shaun, I could do this. I squeezed her hand back and counted, “1…2…3…” As she breathed, I felt her nails dig into my hand. For a moment, I shared a small amount of her pain. She needed me. My big sister needed me and I rose to the challenge. Quickly, Shaun returned and glided into place. Her gaze switched to him, and I felt relief wash over me. I had done my part, but it was so intense. I hadn’t expected that. That little bit seemed to empty me out and grow me up all at once. My sister needed … ME! I had something to offer her after all those times she helped me. Wow!

Some time later, it was time for her to push. I took a position near her shoulder and had the privilege of seeing my niece come into the world. What a miracle! The miracle of LIFE! It was beautiful and emotional and exhausting. To this day, I am so thankful that I was allowed to be in that room, to experience that moment. Throughout her life, Lynette was an advocate for pregnancy and childbirth. She cherished each of her ten births, children that filled her home and her heart. Ten times, she repeated the process of pain unto something… unto life! Ten times, she and Shaun did the dance of locking hands and eyes and breathing together as partners. So many things go unspoken in big moments, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they go uncommunicated.

And Into Eternity…

Whether unto life or unto death, Lynette communicated in the most painful moments. She showed her love and commitment to Shaun and received it in return. She shared her trust with me, even though I was inexperienced. She invited me to come alongside her and learn and grow. Through her sickness, she also showed her unwavering faith in Jesus Christ. She turned to him in the most painful moments. She spoke with him in the quiet moments of the night and when her worry threatened to overtake her. Her favorite playlists were songs that reminded her of Jesus and his goodness. She immersed herself in worship music day and night. Through all the hardship, she looked on HIM, Jesus. And in the end, I imagine, He was the one who took her by the hand and their eyes locked with one another. The unspoken communication that said, ‘You are safe, healed, and whole. You are now home and you have run your race so well.’

Ultimately, her final pain wasn’t unto death, but unto eternal life. She made a decision during her lifetime to make Jesus her Lord and Savior. He was the leader of her life. She believed in him and that he came to earth and died as a sacrifice for her sins, and the wrongdoings of the world. Jesus, the only one worthy to take our place because he was perfect. He never did anything wrong or sinful. God’s one and only son, chose to give up his life so that we could have our lives for eternity. Jesus chose first and Lynette chose next. In the end, her death was actually a welcoming into a new part of her life, her eternal life. If you want that life, you can have it too. The Bible says, ‘Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved.’ All you have to do is call out to Jesus.

You can say, ‘Jesus, I believe in you. I want to live eternally with you. I believe that you came to this earth and died in my place to pay for all the wrong things I have done and will do. I accept your sacrifice on my behalf. And I believe that you rose to life again and are now seated in Heaven with God. I choose to make you my leader, my Lord. You are my Savior. I want to be forever yours. Please guide me in my life and teach me how to follow you. Amen.’ 

If you said this prayer for the first time or if you are rededicating your life to Jesus, then I recommend a few steps. Find a Bible and read the book of John (towards the last third of the Bible). Find a Christian friend and a church that can help you connect with other people who have made this their life choice too. God loves a family, and it’s so good to follow Jesus with other people. One day, you too will have the Lord take your hand and say, ‘You are now home.’

(To be continued in a future blog post)…

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WRITE! Part 2

brittanymputman

The Departure…

I stepped out of the car and onto the busy airport sidewalk. Grabbing my bags from the trunk, I kissed my husband goodbye and gave the fastest goodbye hugs and kisses to my children. Wheeling my suitcase through the crowded sidewalk, the tears started to prick at my eyes. I turned around once more and waved goodbye to my family as they drove off. Then, I was alone. Tears slid down my cheeks as I made my way through the airport doors. I was afraid and overcome with emotion. Here I was navigating the busy airport on my own and with the crushing weight of knowing what awaited me on the other side of the country. I couldn’t hold back the emotion any longer. I didn’t need to be brave for my kiddos, or appear strong in front of them. It was just me. Me and a crowd! After letting those initial tears spill over, I was able to gather myself once again and march onward towards security and my sick sister, Lynette, on the East Coast.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I made it through security and settled in at my gate. I did it! The rest would be easy. I just had to get on the plane and let it take me to my sister. But I hadn’t anticipated the small talk that comes along with flying. ‘Oh, it’s so nice to meet you. Where are you headed? Oh really, what are you going to do there?’ With a blank look, I quickly replied with a very general answer. ‘My sister and her family live there. I’m heading out to see them.’ Phew! That was enough. The kind seatmate didn’t ask any further questions. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if I had to answer anything more in depth. Would I have cried right there in front of all those passengers? Would I have lied? Would I have become stoic or nonchalant, emotionless as I answered the question in truth? I’m just so glad I didn’t have to find out. Putting my noise-canceling headphones on, I blocked out the rest of the world for the duration of the flight. 

The Arrival…

After a slight delay during my layover, I made it to my destination. Calling my friend to let her know we landed, she drove the 40 minutes out to the airport to pick me up. I’d also be staying at this friend’s house while visiting my sister and her family. I was so thankful for how these accommodations had worked out. Not only did I get to see my good friend, Vanessa, but I also got to see my wonderful sister, Lynette. The three of us had become great friends when we lived near one another back in Illinois. Together, along with my sister-in-law, Joy, we made a home-school co-op together during the height of Covid. It was an amazing set of women and kids. We needed community during that time and it worked out so well that the four of us and our kids could meet regularly to make that community happen. Even though our families now live far from each other, we still get along and enjoy one another when we get the chance to be together.

Vanessa and I spent a few hours talking and catching up before we turned in for the night. The following morning, I woke up and slowly got ready for the day. I just didn’t want to face what was to come. I kept delaying the inevitable. I talked with my friend while I ate a slow breakfast, hoping I could draw some inner strength as I inched towards the time to leave. Finally I was ready. Vanessa hugged me and encouraged me that I could do this as I got ready to head over to my sister’s house. I’d have a little time with Lynette and the family before my Mom and brother, Jesse arrived from their trip out here. 

My Destination…

As I stepped into my sister’s house, I was welcomed by cheers of “Aunt Brittany!” There were so many hugs! My sister has ten kids and at that time most of them were still living at home. Oh those hugs were scrumptious! I accepted all the hellos and welcomes and gave a bit of talk time to the family. Usually, at this point visiting my sister, I’d make my way to the kitchen where I would inevitably find her baking bread, prepping for the next meal or helping the youngest ones with dishes from the meal that just passed. Lynette was the picture of domesticity. She loved being in the kitchen. It was her happy place. She adored being able to feed her family good and healthy foods. She welcomed the times when she could teach them how to bake or do something ‘just so’ in cooking.

I know this first hand. I have vivid memories of being at my 7th grade home with her in the kitchen. We were adding all the dry ingredients to a stainless steel bowl. She reminded me to take the flat edge of the butter knife and run it over the measuring cup of flour to ensure that I had the perfect amount of flour that the recipe called for. Then we got out the handheld electric mixture and together we mixed the ingredients until they were combined and ready for the next step. As we baked together, we sang to whatever music she currently loved and we did a little dancing to keep up the energy. She was patient with me. I don’t understand how she could be so patient, but I think it must have been not just our relationship but also her love of the process of cooking, not only the outcome. Side by side, we produced some very tasty baked goods in my younger years. 

Now what awaited me was a kitchen with no Lynette. Her family carried on the cooking and cleaning, but it still felt empty without her welcoming smile and flour-covered hands. She wasn’t dressed in an apron, looking out her kitchen window and delighting in her children running around the yard. She wasn’t silly-dancing to her favorite music and bringing an upbeat feeling to the space. She was asleep in her bedroom; medicated and still experiencing symptoms of this brain tumor – no mobility on her left side and seizing from time to time. I had to wait to see her until she was awake. That’s just how things were. Waiting in the unknown space between what I knew and didn’t know while still being in a familiar place with familiar people was tough. I tried to stay present, but I just wanted to see my sister. Now that I had arrived, I was ready, but not ready… Perhaps I should say that I was as ready as I could be. 

“Auntie Brittany, she’s awake. You can go in and see her now,” my oldest niece told me. Now was the time. It was here. I didn’t know what to expect, but I did know who was on the other side of the door. I entered her bedroom and there she was, propped up on pillows in her bed. She looked over and we made eye contact as I approached her bed. I felt shy and unsure. But she looked at me with such love and joy that I knew all was okay for the moment. I opened my arms and wrapped them around my sister. We cried. It was so good to see each other again. Nothing needed to be spoken as we just hugged each other. Here I was across the country from my home, hugging my sister and offering whatever morsel of support I could for her and her present situation.

Settling In…

“You came!” she said through tears and with a tired voice from all she had been through. Yes, I came. I was there, I was with my sister. I looked on the woman who was always larger than life to me. My big sister who seemed to have the answers to just about any question. My big sister who took me under her wing so many times. We were connected. We were connected through childhood memories, shared music, our faith in Jesus, and our desire to be the best Mom’s out there! We loved one another deeply and all that past stuff linked us in this moment. I could be strong because here was my sister who needed me. She needed me to be there and show her that I cared too. I could help be the one to take care of her when she had done that for me so many times. I could sit with her and not say a word or I could ramble on and fill the silence. Whatever she needed, I wanted to give that to her. I wanted to take care of her because she cared for me. I wanted to be there for her because our bond was out of this world. She was my big sister and it was my turn.

As a musician, I have always been interested in the power of music to heal the brain and body. So as soon as I heard that my sister was sick with a brain tumor, I started to compile a playlist of music from our childhood. There’s something about music from our past that hits us in a different way than music from our present. It’s like those songs get embedded for decades and can bring us back in no time. I laid down next to my sister in her king-size bed and I told her about the playlist. I asked if I could play some songs for her. She graciously said that I could. As the first song played, tears formed. She looked at me and tears formed in my eyes as well. We brokenly sang parts of the song and held on tight to each other. It was a warm moment of connection with my sister. It was a connection that spanned 4 decades and here we were, together, reliving a moment in time. It was beautiful. I can’t actually remember what song it was that I played, but it was powerful and so, so good. 

I’m so thankful for music and the way it can connect hearts. The Lord gave us such a precious gift in music. Hans Christian Anderson is known for saying, “Where words fail, Music speaks.” I have experienced that close up time and time again. Even as I’m writing this, I’ve chosen to listen to the instrumental soundtrack for the 1985 PBS/Wonderworks Film, “Anne of Green Gables.” The music reminds me of the many times that Lynette and I watched this sweet story together. We’d pretend to be an orphan and get taken home to a loving family. As we grew up, the story had other meanings for us, deep friendship being one of them. We could be Anne and Diana because of how close we were. We knew our depth of relationship would always be strong and it is.

The Lord has been so good to put us together. He knit our family and our sisterhood into an intricate weave, one that was added to year over year. Although my sister is no longer with me physically, I still carry that piece of her with me. I know that is cliche, but it’s cliche for a reason! She’s in my heart and my mind. She’s in the recipes I make and the music I hear. We are Anne and Diana, Elsa and Anna. We are sisters through and through. She’s the only one that carries this unique bond with me and death doesn’t make that go away. I know that I’ll be reunited with her one day. She’s with Jesus now, praising him. I can see her wearing white, hands uplifted, face turned towards the light of Jesus. She’s praising him with all of Heaven. She’s in the glory of our Lord just like the picture that the Lord gave me on that Worship Night. She is where she is meant to be for all eternity. I’m so thankful for her joy in the Lord.

(To be continued in a future blog post)…

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WRITE!

brittanymputman

How to get started?…

“WRITE! Brittany, you need to write, write, write. Keep writing. Whether you share it publicly or not, keep writing.” This is essentially what my counselor has been telling me for the last few years. I’ve tried. I have a couple half-started, half-finished posts in my files. But each time I tried to sit down and write I drew a blank. I especially had a hard time writing about my sister, I just couldn’t. What could I say? What hasn’t been said by others? What still needs to be said? What am I feeling? All of these are questions I couldn’t bring myself to contemplate. I had no answers. It’s like the trauma of what was happening with my sister and how it affected me caused my memories and thoughts to scatter like a box of spilled puzzle pieces. All the parts were there, but I couldn’t piece them together. They were so jumbled up and maybe even one or two had slid into some sort of hiding place (like under a sofa). I just couldn’t make the picture come into clarity. 

Emotional pain, fear of judgement, and deep loss kept me from being able to really dive into the subject matter that hasn’t been discussed in this blog yet. Some of you reading this post already know the events of the past 3 years, but others of you are just getting to know me and don’t really have any idea of what transpired for me and my family.

History…

I suppose I’ll start by saying, I have a sister. Her name is Lynette. I love her deeply and she treated me like I was her baby. She was seven years older than me. She loves to share the story with me that she wanted a baby sister so badly and then I finally came along. She was overjoyed and from then on our sisterly bond formed. My big sister, my second mother, my first teacher, my baking buddy, my reading buddy, my music buddy, my encourager, my defender, my cheerleader… what a list! It’s not an exhaustive one either.

Lynette holds me, with our big brother nearby

Lynette played a big role in my faith journey too. When I was four years old, after our parents had put us to bed in our shared room, we started talking. From the bottom bunk, I told my big sister up on the top bunk that I wanted to ask Jesus into my heart. I don’t remember what we had been talking about before that part in the memory, but I bet she was asking me about Jesus, or at the very least, answering my questions. Immediately, she knew we should get a parent. Dad came in and as he held my hand, I prayed for Jesus to enter into my heart and lead my life. I can still sense the tears falling at four years old from saying, ‘Yes’ to Jesus. My sister was witness to all of it.

Throughout my life, she shared her ‘cool big sister’ Christian music with me and helped me to know what books were especially good to read and which weren’t. When I was in college, she and her husband paid my way to a major missions conference called, Urbana. And even later in life, when I was pregnant, she shared her philosophy of how beautiful it is that God allows us to be part of his creative process by carrying our babies in our bodies. Sure, our bodies change and reshape, they hurt and ache, but the joy and conviction Lynette shared with me about sacrificially giving our bodies to the Lord for the process of creating new life, gave me a new perspective. I was doing something holy!

The one and only time we were pregnant at the same time; 2015

Lynette saw things in ways that were so different from me. Yes, we had a lot of similar core beliefs, but the way they fleshed themselves out or the nuances of them were always interesting to discuss. As we both entered the same adult stage of life, we sharpened each other. She challenged me in my thoughts and actions. She encouraged me with her one-liners that were ingrained in her, but felt fresh and vibrant when I heard them. It was just a natural way of how she lived out her convictions, and spoke them out, that taught me so many things. I learned so much by watching her simply live her life. She was a no frills, direct speaking, conviction living gal. She was opposite from me in so many ways, yet we fit. Sister and sister… yellow and pink, vegetables and fruit, country and suburban… we fit. Like the jigsaw puzzles we loved doing together so much, our pieces matched and fit together. 

When Time Stands Still…

Then the unthinkable happened. As she was busy raising her ten kids, keeping herself in excellent nutrition, and living her dream on 10+ acres, she collapsed. I wasn’t there. I was over 700 miles away! She had just moved only a little over a year before. I was so far away and my sister was having a medical emergency. I couldn’t rush to the hospital to see her. I couldn’t ‘take over’ at home until she got back. I couldn’t hug my nieces and nephews and my sister. I was stuck at home. I knew they could manage without me, but I still felt helpless. Even if they didn’t need my help, I still wished I could be there. All I could do was wait. I talked on the phone with my Mom. I shrugged off the possibility of anything really bad happening and just assumed that whatever caused her to collapse would be easily solved by the doctors. I mean, the medical community really has come up with so many ways to solve health issues. I kept myself from thinking the worst and thrust myself into my work and tried my best to ignore the ‘what-ifs’. 

After some time, Lynette went home from the hospital and eventually they got her results. It was a tumor. “Okay, she’s got this. The medical community has got this. I’ve known people who had brain tumors and I never heard of anyone who hadn’t had it resolved.” I prayed for her healing and I expected the best outcome. Why shouldn’t I? What I didn’t know was what kind of tumor she had and what the life expectancy was. I didn’t grasp the gravity of her situation. As much as I hoped for the best, I still felt the deep worry and concern. Our church at that time was having a Worship Night and I knew I just had to go to it. We went as a family, but I needed a bit of space. I felt the tears coming and I just wouldn’t be able to really interact with the Lord deeply if I was worried about my kids seeing my tears or interrupting me while I was processing with the Lord. So, I stepped away from our row and walked over the other side of the auditorium. The tears came. They dripped down my face. I turned my face heavenward and let the presence of the glory of God fall on me. I needed him. I needed his strength because I was scared. 

We continued to worship. The room was dark, but there were some spotlights being used from time to time. As I looked to the right, across the room, it felt like time suddenly stood still. I saw a woman in the crowd with brown hair, seated while everyone else was standing. Her arm was lifted up as was her head and the spotlight shown on her just at that moment. She was highlighted to me and I felt an impression from the Lord. “This is your sister. She’ll be worshipping me in Heaven, surrounded by many others worshiping along with the angels.” I quickly shook that thought off because it felt imminent. It felt like the Lord was showing me that Lynette would not find her healing here on earth. I couldn’t accept that. I had to keep believing that this tumor would not be the end of her. 

Facing Reality Up Close…

The time had come. She was going to have surgery to remove as much of the tumor as they could. I wrestled with whether or not I should go see her before or after the surgery. It was likely she’d live through the surgery, but I had no idea what state she’d be in at that time. I spoke with a pastor and friend who had had a family member go through a similar surgery and she was able to give me some great perspective about the situation I was facing. My husband wanted me to go and was ready to do whatever was needed at home to make that possible. But I didn’t want to go. The truth is, I was so afraid. I was afraid to fly alone for the first time. I was afraid of the emotional toll it’d take on me to see my sister as she was. I was already in a fragile state because of some previous losses I had suffered and I hadn’t bounced back yet. I was afraid to see my sister in her immobile state, still suffering from regular seizures in her hand and arm. I didn’t want to face reality up close. I just felt so much fear and panic.

But, I had to. I had to go. I had to see her before her surgery. I didn’t know what things would be like after, but I knew what things were like at that point. For a person who was suffering with underlying anxiety, I was doing something incredibly hard. It took all my strength to agree to make the trip plans out to see her and on my own to boot! I can’t put into words the trouble I was having with taking these steps to do something that seems like it’d be so simple and straightforward. Who wouldn’t want to jump on a plane and visit their sister before a major surgery? Who wouldn’t be able to do that? Why would that be hard for anyone? What would keep someone from doing something that others do every day? That person was me and I was bound up in fears, anxieties and so much grief. 

Photos from the last time we were together before the medical emergency

I had to face the truth that I wasn’t fully recovered from the major transitions of life. (Yet another topic I haven’t been able to give much writing towards because of the knotted mess that it all became inside. There had just been so. much change and so fast) I still had to do more hard things in the midst of such inner turmoil. I had to face my fear of being unable to cope with the present reality. I had to face my anxiety that I would melt into panic as I took steps towards that awful truth that my sister was … different. I had to face the grief that what she and I had was gone… at least for the present. I didn’t know if it’d ever come back. I didn’t know if she and I would ever have the chance to have a carefree conversation again. This tumor, this cancer, had come in and obliterated the road we were on. From now on, we’d be taking one jagged step at a time. We’d be jumping over potholes, and getting our footing on the slippery grounds of medical feedback. We’d be racing ahead only to abruptly put on the brakes. Our inching forward would one day turn into a standstill. Gradually that standstill would steadily begin to move backwards. Backwards in progress, backwards in hope, backwards towards the end. 

(To be continued in a future blog post)…

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Mothers Matter – Mother’s Day 2025

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Left Behind…

There was a time when I felt left behind because of my role as a mother. So many other people, women and men, got to go off and do ‘church stuff’ and ministry. Yet there I was at home with my young kids. After all, someone had to feed them at a decent hour and get them to bed. This feeling of being left behind, of being less than,  was especially hard as my husband’s ministry and role at church was increasing. I noticed how exciting things were becoming for him. I wanted excitement. I realized how many of my friends were attending different events. I wanted to be free to attend too. I saw the recognition being given to those pressing in for more of the Holy Spirit’s presence. I wanted recognition too, at the very least for being at home with my kids. I felt like I was really missing out and even more deeply, I didn’t want to miss out on the big things that God was doing.

It wasn’t always hard to choose my kids over ministry. I absolutely LOVED my kids (and still do). I always wanted to be a mom, I just didn’t know all that I’d have to give up. I’m not sure we ever know the extent of that until we’re actively parenting. I also never experienced the complete fulfillment and satisfaction of spending time in the presence of the Holy Spirit and praying for other people until I had already become a mom. That’s just how my faith journey turned out. Feeling like I couldn’t have it both ways, being a Mom and participating in ministry, was really hard. It became easy to count all the things I was giving up and it was so easy to get into a ‘woe is me’ attitude. In one of the harder moments, I went on and on with the Lord about how I was feeling and what I was longing for. I complained and I whined … and you know what? He listened. I was thankful that he didn’t chastise me for all the complaints I sent his way. In his loving kindness, he let me tell him the pain and sadness I was experiencing. He was a safe place. A safe place to share, a safe place to cry, and a safe place to process my feelings. 

That morning, I headed into my daily Bible reading. I happened to be reading 1 Samuel 30.That’s when David and his men went off to fight a battle. Well, some men stayed behind to keep watch over the baggage because “they were too exhausted.” When I read that line, I could immediately relate. Boy was I feeling tired and exhausted during that time of my life. Sometimes it felt like I couldn’t go on either. Those little baby to Pre-K kiddos really kept me on my toes! As I kept reading, the story goes that David and his men had victory in the battle and they returned with the spoils of battle! Accusingly, some of the men who went to battle said, “Because they did not go with us, we will not give them any of the spoil that we have recovered.” Ouch. That’s not really nice. The Bible actually called those men ‘wicked and worthless.’ Yikes! 

Anyway, David, in his wisdom said, “For as his share is who goes down into the battle, so shall his share be who stays by the baggage. They shall share alike.” Wait, had I just read that correctly? The people who stayed behind because they were too exhausted and so they looked after the baggage… they were going to get a share of the spoil/plunder/rewards as if they had gone out to battle? When I read those words that day, the Lord filled my heart and mind with the knowing that what I was doing as a mother was important. Staying with my young children sometimes felt like ‘staying behind with the baggage’. And when I might have a chance to actually go out and do something, I was often just too tired and exhausted to do it! But here was God impressing on me that being a mother… mothering my kids was really important. He was telling me that I wouldn’t miss out on the rewards of doing ‘spiritual battle’ (ministry)  just because I stayed behind with the kids. No. Indeed, I would still have a share in the rewards! I too would be rewarded for my choice to be with my kiddos… to minister to my kiddos through my calling as a mother. Whoa! The Lord said emphatically to me in that moment, what I was doing mattered. My heart was full. ……….

Mothers and Mothering Matters…

Recently, I was looking through some prophetic words I have received over the years. I came across one from August of 2020. In it, the person who was hearing something from the Lord for me, felt like God was highlighting the words ‘Mothers Matter.’ I couldn’t agree more. As I reflected on that, I knew this is what I wanted to share today. 

Mothers Matter. Whether you’re a Biological, Adoptive, Foster, or Desiring Mom; an Auntie, Big Sister, Grandmama, or Spiritual Mom… all ‘Mothers’ Matter. Because it’s not just the fact of being a Mom, but it’s the ACTIONS of mothering that really matter. 

Mothers and MOTHERING matters. 

Mothers, Do you know this? Women, do you? Do you know that what you do and do not do matters? You have an impact on each and every person you come into contact with. Whether or not you’re a mother, there are still so many ways that we leave a mark on people… for the good or not so good.

Every heart longs to have loving mothering. Years ago, a close friend and I were talking about the most recent sermon she had heard on the subject of  ‘Father Wounds’. She said, “You know, everyone talks about ‘father wounds’, but no one talks about ‘mother wounds’.” That statement took me off guard. First, I hadn’t expected it, but second, when I really thought about it, I hadn’t heard any teachings about wounds from a mother either. She went on to say, “I have mother wounds that need healing.” What were they? I didn’t know exactly, but I did know that she was sincere in her request for healing. Her heart had been wounded along the way by a LACK of mothering. She was hurting … because mothering matters. She needed a kind of mothering that she wasn’t getting from her biological mother. This got me asking the question, “Could she get this needed mothering elsewhere?”

Yes! Yes,the Lord can raise up mothers from anywhere! Another time, a young woman came to me and asked for prayer. Her prayer was for her mother to rise up and support her in a time when she deeply needed her mom. In the past she had been able to rely on her grandmother for all that support, but Grandma had passed away and now another round of need was creeping up. She desperately wanted her Mom to be the mother that she needed in that moment. And as I prayed for her, I felt the Lord prompting that whether or not her own legal mother rose to the challenge, the Lord was inviting me into mothering her. No, not to become her mother, but to have mothering actions toward her. There was no need to do anything extravagant or in-depth, but the invitation was to be available in that moment, to be ready to love, and to speak LIFE into her! I had the opportunity to encourage her as a mother would and to hug her as a mother would and to come alongside of her in her need, as a mother would. It was beautiful and lovely. I found out later that her mother DID come around to meeting her needs. She was so thankful that her mother responded in this way and also thankful that there was someone safe that she could share those needs with in the first place. I’m so glad the Lord made space that day for the two of us to connect. It wasn’t long, but it was enough. It made an impact on her and it made an impact on me. 

Biblical Examples of Mothering…

What’s so important about mothers? What sort of actions do they take that we long for? What good are they? Well, I submit to you that we need mothers around us to hold us up when we’re weary. We need mothers who will give us a hug, a human touch. We need mothers around us to call things out in us. Mary did this to Jesus when she prompted him to do a miracle about the wine at a wedding. (John 2:1-11)

We need mothers who will pray for us when we are at our lowest. We need mothers who will seek God for his saving power when our lives are in the balance.  The Shunammite mother in 2 Kings 4:18-37 did just this to save her dying son. She knew the power of God and his faithfulness and when her son was dying, she went after Elisha, the prophet of God. He prayed over her son and he came back to life!

We need mothers who will step in when our own mothers cannot. Not every mother is able to care for their child for one reason or another. We see this in Pharaoh’s daughter who pulled Moses out of the river and raised him as her own when his own mother couldn’t. We need women to do just that today! (Exodus 2:1-10)

We need all sorts of mothers doing all sorts of roles, because God created mothers and mothering for the benefit of humankind. He put his own nature of nourishing and nurturing into humanity because it is part of his image… And it is good. Mothering is good. 

We see that Jesus loved mothers too. He healed them and their children… yes… and even his own mother he held close to his heart. As Jesus was close to death he saw his mother and his disciple, John and he said to his mother, “Woman, here is your son,”  and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” Jesus blessed his mother and John by making them a family in a few short sentences. He knew they would need each other. (John 19:25-27)

Ralph Pallen Coleman | Waiting For The Word | CC BY 2.0

So, today I say, MOTHERS MATTER. We need all types of mothers in our lives. We need a multitude of mothers. As I think about my own areas of interaction, I can see so many types of mothers around me. Biological, Adoptive, and Foster Moms. Mothers who hold the dream of a child in their heart. Aunties who come alongside children to encourage them. Big Sisters who look out for and teach their younger siblings. I see Spiritual Mamas who speak prophetically into our hearts and release callings over us. And I’m sure there are more! God has put motherhood into his people.

So, would you rise to the actions of mothering for those around you today? Would you pray for others, call out the talents in others, seek healing for others, and with Jesus, even pull those out of the water who desperately need a mother? 

It’s clear to see that Mothers Matter…and…Mothering Matters… Thank you to all the types of mothers out there.  We need you and we are thankful for you. Thank you.

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It’s Baby Time!!! … or is it?

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Today is the day! It’s time! I’ve packed my bags and I’m heading to the airport to await our newest child. Who knows when baby will come?  I’m so excited to meet him/her! I’ve been eagerly awaiting this trip for two months, when we first found out about baby. Honestly, I’ve been waiting for this moment since 2019 when we were approved to adopt. If I’m super honest, I’ve been waiting my whole life… it’s a dream come true. It’s finally happening! I’m going to be holding my newborn, soon-to-be-adopted baby. My heart is so full. It feels like it might explode, but thankfully, it won’t. There is just so much joy!

The Reality…

I wish all that was true. Part of it’s true. Today IS a significant day in this journey and we have known about him/her for two months. We did say, YES, to adopting this little one. But, I’m not on my way out to meet him/her. Things have gone a different way…So much hope and anticipation followed that YES… and a huge flurry of activity – gathering official documents, filling out forms, getting fingerprints and doctor’s visits, writing a biography, meeting our new social worker, and so much more. When I say flurry, I mean it! We had two months to start and finish our home study! The front end stuff was on track to be done in 2-3 weeks if we really dropped everything and focused on this. Sure enough, we did that! We had to get this first step done fast because once our adoption agency approved our home study, we had to send it to the state. That’s the part that we had little control over the timing. State approval can take anywhere from 4-6 weeks… or longer! We really wanted to have an approved home study by the time baby arrived. … And we had almost met that goal… just a few more boxes to check and we’d be there. We could do it! I couldn’t believe how much progress we were making. 

Two and a Half Weeks Earlier…

A week before we said YES to this little one joining our family, we were not making any moves towards starting up the adoption process in our new state. We were biding our time until we felt like our life was settled enough… settled enough from the move two years earlier… settled enough from the new church plant that we and our team started two years prior… settled enough with our kids finishing up their 2nd year back in school (as opposed to homeschool). We were finally getting settled and I could feel my thoughts shift towards adoption. I had internal space to catch up on my many adoption blog podcasts. I was leading the baby/toddler ministry at our church and realized that I still remembered a lot from my young parenting days. I could offer words of encouragement and advice to the moms of young kids. I even found that I enjoyed sharing about my experiences and bringing up those past memories. And then there were the conversations. People started asking me more frequently how things were going on the adoption front. I had to really give some thought to how it was actually going. Was it moving forward, backward, stagnant? Was it something we still wanted to do? Would it look the same? How about foster care, should we consider that option instead of private adoption? I found myself thinking about adoption more than I had in the past two to four years. I asked myself, “Is the Lord turning my thoughts towards all this adoption stuff again because it’s getting close to the time to do something about it? Or am I just thinking about it and there doesn’t need to be any action yet?”

You can imagine how I answered that question when we received a call that a birth mother remembered us from way back in 2020 (Read more at this post) and was wondering if we’d be interested in adopting her baby! I was blown away when I heard that! What was God up to??? There were so many swirling thoughts in my mind. How did she remember us after all this time? How was it that she kept the text number of our previous adoption social worker? I mean… that agency had closed. There wouldn’t have been a way for her to find us or the social worker otherwise. Whoa! …And since the agency had closed, that could mean this adoption would be able to go through as an agency-assisted adoption which would likely reduce our costs since there would be no large placement fee. Also, I always felt like we would adopt from the state we previously lived in. I was sad when that didn’t happen and certainly confused and disappointed. But now, we might even be able to finalize the adoption IN THAT STATE! What?!?!? It really seemed like things were lining up to be accomplished in a way that was what I had hoped and dreamed and planned for… albeit a bit veering from my original plan since I had moved away and it was 5+ years after our initial home study approval. But who cares about all that when it’s finally about to happen? I certainly didn’t. All I knew was that hope was rising in me once again. 

With such a big, life-changing decision to make, we immediately started to seek input. We talked with people who had adopted, we talked with mentors, counselors, family, friends, you name it! We sought out prophetic words from the Lord, we prayed for the Lord to speak directly to us, we used human wisdom in our discernment. We reassessed whether or not we still wanted to make adoption a part of our life story at 40+ years of age. Did we still want a newborn after all this time? How would this affect our kids? How would it affect our church? How would it affect our work? There was just so much to consider.  Thankfully, we had a week before we needed to give our decision, but that still felt so quick. Our lives were quickly heading in a 180 degree direction. But was it a complete turn around? I mean, we had been considering this in our PAST. Were we really so far along on our present trajectory that adoption would turn us right back around?

We came to the conclusion that, no, it wouldn’t be out of the question for us to adopt. So, with anticipation and some trepidation of the unknowns, we made the call to the adoption social worker. We said, YES! She didn’t hide her enthusiasm. She really wanted us to say yes. She told us that she was hoping we’d agree to adopt because we were who the birth mother really wanted and it’d fulfill our dreams as well. We talked about the next steps, the aspects we’d need to figure out with the lawyer and the agencies in both states. We called and texted the people who had prayed with us over this decision and shared the news. There was SO MUCH rejoicing going on. We were all ecstatic with JOY! Just about every part of this felt like the LORD! Praise Jesus! We were finally going to adopt a baby. It was really going to happen. We really were going to change our lives for so much good, and we could foresee so many interesting positive outcomes by taking this step. We said YES with our whole hearts and we jumped in! That’s when the flurry of activity happened that I mentioned earlier.

What Came Next…

Along with that flurry of activity came an unexpected swirl of chaos. It completely took us off guard. We noticed an instant anxiety rise up in our kids. Their emotions were all over the place. Along with this, the main stone fell out of my wedding ring. This was a first for me. I had no idea when it happened and after searching through so many places, I never found it. Then, we discovered that the required pool fence was going to be more extensive than we originally thought and that we’d have to find some way to make our 15 foot oleander hedge inaccessible to a child – either that or take them out completely. The final blow was when my doctor refused to fill out my adoption form without an appointment, even though I had just seen her the previous month. Luckily, our adoption agency recommended that we go to a certain clinic. So, I did that. When the nurse asked me why I was there, I said, “I’m hear to have an appointment so I can get this adoption form filled out.” She flat out said, “We can’t do that.” [blank stare] After some discussion with her about how our agency literally told us to go to this clinic and her trying every which way to find a way to allow them to fill out the form, I walked away empty-handed. I was so disheartened. This was the final item that I needed to do on my  individual list and then just a handful on our joint list left to do. We were so close to getting our home study sent off to our agency for approval. Why was this so hard? What was happening? Even our adoption agent was confused at the lack of help we were receiving from these medical providers. What was going on?

That night, I got a text from our out-of-state social worker asking if we could have a phone call. We made the space in our schedule and got on the phone with her. She proceeded to share about the recent midwife visit our birth mother had and gave us stats from that appointment. Then she shared more information about what she’d learned about the birth parents and their health histories. I was thankful to receive more information. I had been waiting for two and a half weeks to hear more about how things were going and I was eager for a glimpse into how the pregnancy was progressing and to learn any additional information that we could about our baby. But there was more. My husband sensed it from the beginning of the call. Sure enough, there was something there that was cause for concern – at least on our end. Ultimately, we learned that the birth mother was starting to question her decision. She was going to take the weekend to think about things and had a counseling appointment scheduled for her at the top of the week to help her with this process and the decisions she needed to make. It was Thursday.

The next morning, my husband and I finally got to work on our non-adoption related things. It seemed like it was the first time in a long time that we had been caught up enough to devote some time to our usual work. Just before lunch I received a call from our out-of-state adoption social worker. I took that call and my heart dropped. “I hate to have to be the one to make this call, but the birth mother decided to parent,” she said. Shock. Tears. Disbelief. Confusion. What?!? She didn’t need the weekend or the counseling appointment to process her thoughts. She made the decision overnight, thanked us for ‘stepping up’ and went on her way. Devastated, that’s how I felt. I felt devastated. I finished the call and then sobbed. Sobbed for the lost baby, the dream put on hold again. Sobbed for all the stress and time, energy, and money we had put into the past weeks. Sobbed for the future decision about whether or not we’d continue with the adoption home study process. Sobbed that we’d have to break the news to our kids. Sobbed at the prospect of telling all those who rejoiced with us that now it was over. I was heartbroken. I shared the news with my husband at lunchtime and he too had obvious emotion over this. His was a bit more towards the angry side of things. This was really hard news to stomach. Oh man, it was hard.

Just as quickly as it started, it ended. Just like that, it was over. No more racing, no more rushing, no more taking the next step. And no more dreaming, no more excitement, no more anticipation. It was just a bunch of ‘no more’. It was empty. I was empty. Every place that I had filled with adoption, suddenly had holes poked into it and everything leaked out. What a pain I carried. What deep pain that I hadn’t experienced in this way before. It was sharp and dull at the same time. It was deep and shallow. Pain that was acute and yet, chronic too. My heart and soul weeped. I wept. … I wept.

…….

‘Jesus wept.’ It’s the shortest verse in the Bible. That’s why we know it. ‘Jesus wept.’*** I wasn’t the first one to come to this place. Jesus had been here too. He wept over a loss also. He wept over a person too. Jesus wept over people who were like family, although not legally so. Jesus wept. I am not alone in weeping. I am not the first to weep. Yes, I’ve already said that only a few sentences back. But, I must remind myself. I must remind us. We must remind ourselves. We are not alone in our sorrow. We are not the first ones to experience deep loss. The King of Kings has WEPT! His life wasn’t without pain. Although he was perfect, he still experienced the sadness that life brings with it. Because of this, I can trust Him again. I gain my strength from Him! If He can rise up from this, I can too. If He can find strength to pray again, I can too. Dare I say, if He can seek for a resurrection, I can too. I can seek for a resurrection of this dream. I may not seek it immediately, though.  Sometimes it takes time to heal from the battering that comes with loss. But, someday, when my heart is healed, I will hope again. I’ll feel that gentle nudge, “Brittany, will you follow me into the world of Foster/Adoption? Will you let your heart hope and dream again? Will you trust me as I lead you through this narrow way?” I’ll tell you, HE is the only one I will trust with this. He is the only one who can make a way when there seems to be no way. He is the only one who can turn ashes into beauty; sorrow into rejoicing. So, I choose HIM. I choose Jesus. I will follow Him. I will say YES to Jesus once again.

A gift from friends that I’ve displayed in my home over the years of waiting.

Update…

After some time had passed, We made a decision to continue with finishing out our home study. We don’t know what will come of it, but we feel it’s good and right for us to continue forward on this path. So, we’re starting our adoption journey afresh here in our new state. Our lives are so different now, but that doesn’t bother God. We’ll trust him to keep leading us and we’ll keep our hearts tender towards HIS dreams for our family.

Adoption Triad…

I would be remiss if I didn’t say that although this blog post is about my own personal journey through adoption as a Prospective Adoptive Parent, there are two others in this adoption triad – the Birth Mother, and the Adoptee. It is found to best for children to be raised by their birth parent(s), in their family of origin, if at all possible. This birth mother has chosen to parent and if I take a step back from being a PAP, I can see many positives and benefits for them both. Congratulations to this birth mother. I wish you the best as you continue on as mother and child.

*** You can read the story of Jesus weeping in John 11:1-44 in your Bible or at the link.

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Adoption, God, My Story

Play. Pause. Resume Play…

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There I was, sitting in my car in the grocery store parking lot. Between stores I negotiated another decision about a possible adoption match. These calls come in at any time of the day. They interrupt the ‘regular programming’ to insert a highly stressful, yet highly anticipated and hopeful story arc to our daily narrative. This call happened over a year ago. No, I didn’t write about it then, nay, I couldn’t write about it. The current trajectory of our adoption journey was incredibly rocky and uncertain. Emotional pain stung my heart as I turned over and over how this road might play out as we transitioned to a new assignment in our lives. Would there be room for a baby now? If we had a newborn, how would we get the much needed rest before jumping into the deep end of moving across the country and starting a new ministry? But, if we waited until we moved to our new state, we’d have to start the adoption approval process all over. I felt tired and deflated. This wasn’t how I thought our adoption story would play out. 

So, December 2021, I sat in my van with the engine running and the heat turned up and took in all the adoption social worker was telling me. Dare I hope? Dare I dream? Dare I bring this option up with my ‘other half’? The opportunity sounded too perfect. An established mother who was surprised by this pregnancy and not really able to start from scratch with a newborn. Making an adoption plan made sense to her and maybe I’d be the adoption parent to her baby. If I said yes, and if she said yes, we’d have the baby in 2 months! We’d complete this phase of our adoption journey while still living in the state we’d been approved in and wouldn’t that just put a nice bow on things? Could this be it? Could this really be the long-awaited addition to our family? Or would this be taking things into my own hands and forcing the outcome that I wanted instead of waiting on God. 

You see, I could feel it. I felt that this wasn’t the time to bring a baby into our home. I even had an inkling that this wasn’t the baby for our family. The Lord was softly nudging my heart toward saying, ‘No’ to this opportunity. I didn’t want to hear that! I wanted to feel euphoric and have this amazing God-story about adoption NOW. I didn’t want to wait any longer. I wanted my dream fulfilled. All this wrestling happened inside of me while on the phone with the social worker, while I continued my errands and while I drove back home. I hated this. I knew that what I grasped for was not going to be had. This just wasn’t going to happen and I wouldn’t allow myself to force it either. So, I hesitantly shared this possible match with my husband. Perhaps, if he felt like it was a ‘Yes’ then I could move forward with the match! But, in my heart of hearts, I knew he’d also agree that it wasn’t the right moment to add a sweet addition to our family. Sure enough, that’s how it panned out. So, with sad resolution, I told our adoption social worker that we were going to pass on pursuing this adoption match. 

Letting go is so hard. Pausing a dream feels devastating because there’s often a bit of doubt that the process will never start up again. If I let go of this in-front-of-me opportunity, would I ever get another one? And then… the people pleaser inside of me kicked into high gear. (As an aside, can I just say that I’d get along much easier without this overactive part of me? It is something I have learned to continuously keep in check while making choices that affect me, my family, my friends, and ministry. Aside over.) The people pleaser reminded me of all the people who sowed into our adoption journey. It criticized me for things I had said in hopeful anticipation… Did I lead people on by accident? It shamed me for allowing others to help us before we even had a ‘bird in the hand’… I shouldn’t have accepted anything from anyone until I knew that this was a done deal… so much for faith, huh? It mocked me for thinking that God would come through on this dream in my time-table… Did I really think I’d be the ‘special’ one and have our adoption in less than the average time frame? Oh man! It was horrible! It still hurts as I write about it more than a year later. It hurts because my dream is on pause and I still have doubts that assail me – doubts that I diligently keep in check so that I can keep this dream alive in my heart. 

You guys, dreaming is hard stuff! Dreams are so often painted in a fairy-tale, gonna-get-what–you-want, never-gonna-be-hard-when-you’re-in-God’s-will type of picture. That’s NOT it. I’m living out a dream out right now and it’s not a perfect and easy process. I’ve cherished this dream since childhood, early adulthood and beginning motherhood. I’ve waited so long and yet, when it was finally time to open up that keepsake-dream, the waiting continued. My faith has been bumped and jostled. It’s been thrown around and stretched and squished and still, I can’t see the form it will be. What I pictured at the beginning is not what I’m currently experiencing. Dreaming is hard. Holding a dream is hard. Walking out a dream is hard. I’ve even heard that fulfilling a dream is hard.

So, what do I do? I could give up. I could toss that dream away like it was a mistake. I could close it back up in the box I took it out of. It could just be a pretty keepsake on the metaphorical shelves of my life. OR… I could push so hard into this dream that I take the reins from God. I could steer it wherever I think it should go and not give a second thought to His plan and process. Growth through this process? No, thank you. I’ll just short-cut the time and keep my stunted heart and mind, thank you very much. …. Yeah, neither of those sound like great options.

Now, we’re back to waiting. But not waiting just to wait. Waiting with a purpose. Growth? Yes! I will grow as I wait. I will learn as I wait. The Lord can teach and train my heart and mind so much… as… I… wait. Waiting is a part of God’s plan and process in all this. He really does know so much better than I, what I need before cherishing a new child in our home. The baby (a fulfilled dream) is out there and I don’t know where or when. But each step I take with my arms empty only gives me more opportunity for the Lord to temporarily place other things in them to love and cherish. Who knows? These other things very well might be the things that teach me exactly what I need so I am more than ready when this dream is fulfilled. 

http://www.flaticon.com

Waiting. Stewarding. Cherishing. Preparing. Learning. Growing. These words and more describe exactly where I’m at right now. Maybe this dream is on pause, or maybe, just maybe it’s still on PLAY. Some things I won’t know before the dream is here. What I do know is that I must keep hoping. I must keep believing (cue the sung phrase  ‘Don’t Stop Believing’). I must keep choosing Christ over all else, even over my dream. He is the only one who can keep my heart just where it needs to be as I prepare.

Presently, I’m still dreaming about adoption. It hasn’t been put back on the shelf. It’s not thrown out or hidden away. But, it is certainly changing form and shape from what I thought it’d be. Like a lump of clay on a potter’s wheel, this dream started out with the idea of a specific look, but it’s taking its own shape. I believe it will be better than I could ever think up on my own. I’ll keep following the Dream Giver and look forward with hopeful anticipation to the fulfillment of this dream. Until then, here I am… walking things out day by day.

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family, God, My Story

Describe Your Childhood…

brittanymputman

She looked at my husband and said, “Could you explain your childhood to me? Would you call it stable or unstable?” I knew I was next to answer this question. You see, we were in the middle of a psychological evaluation for becoming church planters. As I listened to my husband’s answer, my mind wandered to my own memories of childhood. How would I respond to this question? I knew there wasn’t a right or wrong answer, yet I felt the familiar pull towards a ‘right’ response. What was my childhood like? How would I describe it? Was my experience one of instability or was it stable?

My First Home

As an outsider looking in, my life looked quite unstable – 7 cities, 9 schools, 12 houses, all before graduating college! That’s a LOT of change. Initially we first moved because my dad changed careers and had to do some schooling out of state and then we moved to another state for the new job. This makes sense. People move for their careers all the time. I mean, we’re doing that. We are moving to a new house, a new city, even a new state because we feel like God’s asking us to take this leap and start something new. I can’t fault my parents for choosing to move us.

But then the unthinkable happened – well, the unthinkable for my young heart and mind. After some rocky circumstances, my parents divorced. It was tragic to my 10 year old heart and what was worse, it necessitated a change of living. Heading into 5th grade, I started my new life in a different house, city, and state than what I had become used to. New classmates became new friends, houses changed and stability started to settle in. I had a rhythm and was coming to terms with the changes in my life that I had no control over. I was joyful and thrilled to be making friends, attending a gymnastics school, and have a great church to attend.

Things were going well until mid-way through my second school year there and I had to move yet again. I wouldn’t know the reason for this move until I was older, but all I knew was that we were heading back once again to the place we had left. I was sad to leave my current home, but excited to be going back to a place that was connected with so many happy times in my early childhood. Perhaps I was most excited to be reunited with my dad and also with my best friend. Relationships are hard to come by and I was getting two of them back! However, one thing no one tells you when you’re 12 is that things aren’t probably going to be the same as they were a year and a half earlier. I found out that my friend had moved on and found a new best friend. I had to attend a completely different school district where I once again knew just about no one. My dad remarried by this time and so even time with him was drastically different. All the things I had known in this place were 100% different. It might as well have been moving to a brand new place. I was crushed. It was really hard to gain traction here, but I dug in my heels and worked to make those new friendships. I enrolled in dance classes and even though they weren’t my beloved gymnastics, they were a great way to use my excessive energy and have a load of fun in ballet and jazz dance. 

Later, I learned that the reason we moved back so quickly is because we didn’t know how long my dad had to live. He was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma. This hit our family like a ton of bricks. What would this mean for Dad? What would it mean for me? Was my daddy going to die of cancer? Would he get really sick and be bald? Would he live to see my wedding? All these questions and more would lay low in the back of my mind for the remainder of his life. I didn’t know that the reason we moved was because his initial diagnosis gave him a short time left to live. Amazingly, Dad ended up living for many years more before he died from complications of cancer. Without knowing all this, we moved to be near my dad and get as much time with him as we could because we had no idea how long we’d have with him. This was a super weighty burden to carry as a pre-teen.

Not long after, things were starting to feel stable again. I had friendships with kids at school, friends with kids next door and in my church. I was singing, dancing, and playing trumpet whenever I had the chance. We had a cozy little home and I got a dog to call all my own. The new normal was just that, normal. I knew what to expect and could depend on it. Even Dad’s cancer wasn’t so scary any more and he was in a sort of ‘remission’ for the time being. Things were looking up.

Photos of me with my mom and dad.

Then the now-familiar transition was announced. We’d be moving once again. Unfortunately we had to move before our housing would be available and therefore transition in a nearby town for 1 month. During this month the school year started and I spent 2 weeks in a new school, surrounded by new friends, and a new schedule. Our transition home was sparse and just enough to get us by until we could move into our apartment. It was such a hard month. Even harder was leaving my 2-week old school for the next one.

I had barely got my schedule down when we moved to our apartment – another new house, new school, new bus, new classmates, new activities. Ever resilient (to moving) and outgoing, I quickly adjusted. This was a fun place with neat kids and I liked where we were living. We lived in a very international community, with incredibly kind neighbors. I quickly adapted and enjoyed my final year in middle school. Next stop, high school! Unfortunately, my middle school was the one that split between two high schools. I never interacted again with my friends who went to the other middle school. This was a loss for me, but I soldiered on. I stuck with the friends who transitioned along with me to our high school. 

Believe it or not, high school was a time of stability for me. Even though we moved two more times, I got to stay in one school, with the same pool of friends, and develop some of my core gifts in one place (mainly singing) for all four years. I held down a job that stuck with me into college and I attended a college that was down the street from my high school. Can we say, ‘searching for a non-changing life’? These were happy years for me and the highlight, besides choir, was my church youth group. This group of people; pastors, volunteers, and peers; remained steadfast, gracious, and encouraging while high school drama swarmed around me. I’m so thankful for the friend that invited me to her church and the youth group that embraced me, all of me, until it was time to head off to college.

Bethel University: CLC Circle

While in college, we moved once more, but I had a lot more ability to choose my own things now. I stayed at the same university for 4 years in the same major with great friends and classmates. I loved my time during these year and even met my husband. It truly felt like I came through what seemed like a very unstable childhood into a place of security and settledness. 

So, did I have a stable or unstable childhood? With so many changes and upheavals, many would answer, ‘Unstable’. And as I thought things through, I saw that too. But, I couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t the ultimate answer to this question. As I sat in my memories during our psych eval, I realized that through all the tumultuous upheavals in my life, something remained steadfast in me. Something was always there and never changing, only ever growing and deepening. This was my relationship with God. 

Indeed, it was God Himself who was the Constant. As a young child I asked Jesus to come into my heart and be the leader of my life. Through music, Bible reading, prayer, and relationships, I came to know him more and more. When we first moved to my new school, I knew that God would help me find friendly people to be around and that there’d be many new people to play with. When my family broke apart I needed God to be my Comforter. My heart was so sad for so long and He was the only one who I could truly tell my deepest sorrows and longings to. He listened and comforted me while I grieved, accepted, and healed from this new reality. When I was a child of a single parent and it was really hard to have all the things a child needs, I turned to God. It was Him who I saw as my Provider. When we needed something, we asked God and He provided it for us! Even when we didn’t know we needed things, He always came through. We saw His provision through a myriad of ways, but the ones that stuck with me the deepest were through the body of Christ. 

When I think back to times that should have thrust me into being ‘a statistic’ due to being a child of divorce, I wasn’t. When I think back to times that should have taken me out due to grief, I wasn’t. When I think back to times that should have caused me to abandon all security, safety, and stability, I didn’t. During this time, I came to know God as my constant provider, my good father, my closest friend, and the ONE I could rely on no matter what. God turned the tumultuous times of my life into a steady flow of His LOVE and GRACE. He was always gentle, friendly, and trustworthy as He guided my young heart through the challenges of childhood and into adulthood. Jesus was that FRIEND who sticks closer than a BROTHER and I found much stability in Him. It was God, not just my faith in Him, but God the person who was my STABILITY. He grounded me. So, I look back on my childhood as stable, not as unstable. My inner world was rocked, but not overturned. Because of God, I knew truth, security, safety, friendship, intimacy, love, grace, and so much more. 

Now was the moment. My turn had come to answer the interviewer. “Yeah, from the outside many would say that I had an unstable childhood, but inwardly I know that it was surprisingly STABLE. Let me tell you about it…” And that’s how I answered this very poignant question. 

…And in case you were wondering… yes, my dad did live to see my wedding and hold my first child. I’m ever so thankful for that.

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