Let me tell you a story.......

Once upon a time........well, let's not start this way. This isn't a fairy tale. Those don't exist in real life, but this is probably as close to one as you can get. 

It all started in 2004.

I was 16 when my brother started searching for a guitar player for a bluegrass gospel band he had formed called "Mount Zion". He had been to Nashville to record their first nationally released CD, and had been told by Jeff and Ray Deaton that, although Russ was perfectly fine as a guitar player for the group, he needed to be playing mandolin......because......well, if you've ever heard Russ play mandolin, you would know that he can pick one so hot it almost catches fire. So, their reasoning was sound, but finding a guitar player of the quality Russ would want was going to be hard. 

One day shortly following this fateful trip, a semi-frequent customer came in the store. He knew of Russ' trip to Nashville and the band formation, so he asked how things were going. When Russ explained the events of the trip, the customer said "Well, I may know of someone for you. He's a Mennonite, but he's the finest guitar picker I've heard." Russ responded with a look of confusion, and the statement that Mennonites don't play music. The man assured Russ that, although he would normally agree with him, this was not a normal case. So, Russ agreed to meet with the supposed "Mennonite". 

After their first meeting, I asked Russ how things went. He said "Well, he was right. That kid is fine. He's 21.....and probaby one of the best guitar players I've ever heard." My first thought was "21 and a guitar player! I've got to meet this guy!" So when I voiced this thought to Russ, his reply was......... well, not very enthusiastic. I was basically told the guy wasn't my type, and to forget about it. So I did. Until the next practice was set. I made sure that I ran late enough to still be at the store for when it started. I'll never forget the first time I heard him play. I was in with a student, and couldn't even see him, but I heard a guitar break, and was so impressed! I remember thinking "If this guy looks half as good as he plays, I'm going for it!". So, I finished up with my student and headed out front to see what was what. When I walked out and saw him.....the player of the guitar....the...."Mennonite"......He wasn't at all what I expected. He was......skinny.....short......and wore huge glasses. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a polo shirt, and looked like he hadn't shaved in a day or two. I probably don't have to tell you this, but at 16, when your hormones are going crazy and you have certain ideas of how someone should look or act, you tend to sluff off anything that doesn't fit in the tiny box that is your mind. So I think I nodded and maybe said hello before I made a beeline for the door. 

No. He wasn't what I was looking for. 

Over the course of the next few months, I had my 17th birthday, and life was pretty much the normal. Mom, dad, and myself started going to several Mount Zion shows........you know.......to support Russ. I enjoyed going to the shows, and was really starting to enjoy looking at the new guitar player. I didn't like the fact that I was enjoying it, but I reeally couldn't help myself. I mean, he was too skinny and short. He was not my type at all. (Because we all know at 17 everyone has their type picked out.)

In April of 2005, Russ was going to a local studio to start work on the next Mount Zion CD project, with the new arrangement. It would feature several old standards, and lots of original material. I remember being told about one particular studio trip where  Russ says he was asked tons of questions about me on the way there by a certain skinny guitarist. I wondered why in the world he was asking about me?? Maybe he caught me staring at him at one of the shows and thinks I'm some kind of psyco?  I tried not to think about it too much and just go on. Yeah. That didn't work. 

By June, one of us, and I still to this day don't know which one, decided to start talking to the other one. I realized that he had a subtle sense of humor that most everyone he was around didn't pick up on, so it made it really funny. Plus he had a sweet spirit about him, and he seemed very kind. The more time I spent around him, the more I liked him. One night that same month, I decided to go out on a limb and invite him to my house for supper. He was in town for a show and Russ and Skyla had plans with her partents, so I thought "what better excuse?" When I asked him, I don't know that he took me seriously right away, but after I insisted, he accepted and a plan was made for me to pick him up. When the hour arrived and I pulled in at the music store........well, let's just say we both got some looks. I didn't really care, Supper went good, except for one incident with a salt shaker that I won't reveal the details of. And we even took a picture to commemorate the event. 

                                         

Aftter that night, we were pretty much really good friends. We talked every few days and emailed some. Being an hour and a half from each other, that was pretty much our options. And I mean, we were, after all, just good friends, so what more did we need?

In July, I invited him up for my 18th birthday where we argued over what part of my cake he would eat, and then went for a drive to the Louisburg picnic where our lives changed forever. I don't know how it happened (I say that a lot in this story), but when we left the picnic that night, we were a couple. Then is when the real phone conversations started. The monday following my birthday, we talked for 3 hours.....but that was nothing in the grand scheme of things. We once stayed on the phone for 8, with most of the conversations averaging 4-5. As I say, we were 1 1/2 hours apart, with him not driving, so building a relationship on that type of situation isn't easy. We called, we emailed, and waited until a show came up so we could see each other. Weeks turned to months, arguments happened, things were forgiven, many shows passed, and finally an opportunity arose for him to move to Buffalo. Thankfully, he took it. 

Dating seriously changes when you're used to having phone conversations to get you by for 2 months at a time, then all of a sudden you can see each other every day. It was pretty awesome, and I'm sure I  took advantage many times, and drove him crazy. I just couldn't help myself. I was so in love with this man, who, thanks to mine and mom's cooking, wasn't so skinny and short anymore. My 20th birthday was what we counted as our 2 year dating anniversary. I wasn't really expecting anything, but I was hoping. I had been after him for a while to make a move. His proposal was quirky, and completely untraditional. Pretty much our whole relationship. I of course said yes, and we set the wedding date for one year and one month away. 

                                                       

A lot can hapen in a year. Even a lot of things that can test a relationship's strength. It was during this time that my mom was first diagnosed with cancer and I learned how much that I needed him. He was there for me the entire time. Mom lost her arm during that year, but she was still there for every step of my wedding planning, and anxious for me to get married. She told me that she knew she wouldn't always be with me and she wanted to know I would be taken care of. So the wedding went on as scheduled.  Our first year was hard, as is everyones, because learning to live with someone is hard work. But, I think it's safe to say that we handled things well, and eventually adjusted to each other. 

I learned so much during those dating years, but it never compairs with living with someone. First off, I thought when we were dating that he just didn't like his full name. Wrong. He HATES being called by his full name. There is no "Daniel" in our house. There is Dan. And he likes beans for breakfast. He occasionally likes mustard on his sandwhiches and desperately needs time to himself whenever he can. He was not a Mennonte, regardless of other peoples opinion. He pretty much has to drink with a straw. He likes to be taken care of when he's really sick, but when he's just a little sick, you best leave him alone. He loves his routein, and doesn't like breaking it for anyone. And this is just a teeny tiny portion of things that I have learned.......and sometimes learned the hard way. 

When I said a lot can happen in a year, take that times 5 and that brings us to now. We've had countless arguments, just as many make up sessions, 4 promotions, 1 job location change, overnight shifts, family events and celebrations, church services, and just last year we lost mom. She was right when she said that I would be taken care of. Dan was with me through it all, being my strength, holding me when I felt like I would fall, and being a shoulder when I just needed to cry. I couldn't have made it through without him. 

And now we're entering another new and exciting chapter by adding in a sweet little boy. This pregnancy is something that I am enjoying so much! I'm sure that by the end of it, though, it will be another test of our marriage......as will the raising of our child. I don't have any doubts about wether we'll make it though. I signed on for the long haul, and I know he did too.  

Happy number 5, honey. I love you.

And they lived most blessedly together forever. 

The end. 

God's Miracles----Part 2

Part 2.

So, where I left off in the last post was pretty much where we stayed for roughly 4 years. I went ahead and got married and started a life with my husband, although we were never far away. Mom learned to live with the struggles of doing things with one arm. If you think about it, I mean, really think about it, doing things with just one arm and hand is difficult. Especially when it's the dominant hand you've lost.
(As an aside, I once tried tying my right arm to my side and going about my day. It's not easy to do. Wash your hair.....go to the bathroom.....drive......cook a meal from scratch........the list goes on.)
The worst part was the Phantom Pain. She'd be in tears because of the pain she felt from an arm that wasn't there anymore. The hospital in Kansas had given her pain pills, but they didn't seem to do a thing for it.
But other than the pain, mom adjusted so well! I remember going to their house one day and on the stove was a pot of potatoes. Peeled! I asked if dad had peeled them and she said no. Mom had peeled roughly 15 potatoes by herself. Her cleverness never ceased to amaze me. When her great-granddaughter was born in 2009, she was so happy. She held her, rocked her, and even changed diapers. She told me it was good practice for when I had a baby. This way she'd be prepared and already know how to handle mine.

Enter 2012

The first couple months were business as usual. Mom had started taking care of her mom (we all call her Mammy--Age 91) almost full time the end of 2011 and by the first of March, we could tell that it was starting to wear her down. She didn't have the energy she normally had, but mom insisted she was fine.
One morning she awoke with a UTI (urinary tract infection). Those are actually pretty common for mom, so we didn't think much about it. She went to her primary doctor and got a prescription just like always. But this time was a little different. The pills didn't help. Instead, they seemed to make her dizzy. In fact, the dizziness started that afternoon and seemed to get worse every day that she took the pills. She stopped taking them over that  weekend, but the dizziness didn't leave, and she still had the UTI. She went back to the doctor the following Monday, telling them she must have had an allergic reaction to the pills they gave her. They prescribed something different and sent her on her way.

Over that week, the dizziness still lingered, and on top of everything, mom starting having "near fainting episodes" at night. It would be almost time for her to go to sleep and her heart would go crazy, not with pain, but by beating very rapidly, and she would feel as though she was already asleep, and if she actually slept, she didn't know if she'd wake up. She never told me about these issues, but dad did. He said that she'd tell him that she loved him and for him to tell her kids how much she loved them, just in case she didn't make it. She wanted to be held and talked to and kept awake for as long as possible. Then her heart would ease down to a normal rhythm and she would drift off. This didn't happen every night, but about every other night. It seemed as though she was having the same issues through the day, too. One good day, followed by a bad day, followed by a good day. A never-ending cycle. So back to the doctor we went. We had ruled out medicine allergy because it had been around too long.  After discussing mom's diet at length, as well as the feelings she would have before and after she ate, Hypoglycemia was a definite possibility. Instead of putting her through the 6 hour test to see for positive, we tried just changing her diet. Lots of protein, eating every 3-4 hours, no sugar except good sugar........etc.  It did seem that after mom ate she would feel better for an hour or two, but it still didn't fix the problem.

So now, I'm trying to look up her symptoms on line, because......that's just what I do. The most logical thing that WebMD says is Hypothyroidism. So we start studying about that next. Mom fits every symptom. It's the most perfect solution. Even with that, there are still issues that she would have to face, but most of it could be cured with a little pill. Back to the doctor we go.
By this time, we're going to the doctor 1-2 times a week to try and figure this out. But when they test for thyroid problems and the test comes back negative, we're really starting to wonder what could be wrong. After they take more blood to run tests for Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Rheumatoid arthritis, and Lupus my brother speaks up with an alternative; Charlene. A massage therapist / herbalist, who's a very intelligent woman, that listens to your body to know what's wrong with you. Now, mom and dad aren't really in to alternative medicine, but by this point, we're willing to try anything. Plus, Russ had great luck with her. She had cured his kidney, pancreas, and liver problems with nothing but herbs, and he had't even told her there were problems there. He knew there were problems there from trips to the doctor, but she knew there were problems from the massage. It's quite amazing to watch, really.

We schedule an appointment, and Russ takes mom for her first treatment. Charlene worked and worked and discovered fluid in mom's chest around her heart. She said that could be causing the rapid heart beats, as well as the dizziness. After one treatment, the dizziness is gone. She asked mom about her phantom pain pills, and told her that they were ruining her liver. So those pills went bye bye. Mom stopped taking them immediately, and after about 3 sessions with Charlene, he phantom pain was next to nothing. The only other thing Charlene could find wrong with mom was a signal coming from her head. Based on all the fluid build up (which apparently is common amongst depressed women) and the other symptoms, she felt as though the signal was telling her Depression was the problem. She worked with mom's mood, gave her herbs that were to improve your outlook......all kinds of things. Essentially, mom was better for a couple weeks. She felt better, but she had no strength. She wouldn't eat hardly anything, she was irritable, and confused a lot of the time.
She had to send Mammy to live with my uncle because of the simple fact that mom could no longer care for her. She couldn't even care for herself. Most of the time, it was a struggle to get up and go to the bathroom, and when she did, she was as winded as if she'd walked a mile.

Wednesday, April 18th, 2012, mom woke up and couldn't feel her right leg from the knee down. Couldn't lift her leg by herself, move her foot or any of her toes. She said it just felt numb. She was also having trouble forming words to even speak. Our first thought is stroke. Dad says enough is enough and takes her to the ER. Once there, he explains what's been going on with mom, but all the doctor on duty is concerned with is how she lost her arm. Even though my dad insists there's something wrong in her head, the doctor does a chest X-Ray instead. What does he find? Spots. Roughly a 1/2 inch in size. The same thing they saw in Kansas 4 years before. So he tells mom to follow up with an Oncologist. "After all, this is an Emergency Room. You just need a cancer doctor." He told them. So they left and came back home.

God's works are mysterious. I don't know an actual reason that the doctor didn't find the problem that day, but I know there was a reason.

Mom suffered the rest of that day, as well as the next day before she went back to see Charlene on April 20th. Once Charlene saw mom and how terrible she looked........weak, pale, unable to move her leg, or form simple words....she was scared, as well. Although mom's speech had mostly come back, Charlene's  first thought was a stroke. But once she examined mom, she thought it would be possible that a pinched nerve was involved. I mean, after all, mom had just woke up with the numbness. Maybe she'd moved wrong in the night, and her spine was pinched in a way to cause the nerves to go numb. She made mom a chiropractor appointment for the following morning and worked with her for 2 hours, but nothing changed in her leg. Mom left the massage feeling much the same as when she went in, all the while convincing herself that the leg problem was a pinched nerve.

That night, Charlene called saying she hadn't got mom out of her mind all day. She knew there was something else wrong besides a pinched nerve. She wanted to come to mom's house and bring a friend of hers that was a Registered Nurse to examine mom. Once there, the nurse agreed with Charlene about it seeming very stroke-like, and told mom that it could be a blood clot, stroke, or something else. But she needed to have it checked. She told them that if mom changed at all......AT ALL......to get her back to the ER and demand a scan of her brain. My parents agreed, and Charlene and the RN left.
Dad checked mom about every hour through the night. He would wake her, ask her how she was feeling, and then make her repeat a sentence to see how she was understanding things and speaking. About 3:15 AM, he woke her and she couldn't form words. At all. She was able to get across to him to call me to ride to the hospital with them, so I was called. I jumped in my clothes and got in the car. That was a scary ride to the hospital. I was trying to hold it together to be brave for mom, yet I was scared to death and praying to God that she'd be alright. I was then reminded that she would be. A few days before, I had been overcome with a need to pray for mom. It couldn't have been more clear to me if an audible voice had said it. A tap on the shoulder, and some words spoken to my head, and my heart; "You need to pray for your mom."
So I did. I don't know what I said when I prayed, or how long that I prayed, but when I finished, I was given peace to know that mom would be OK. Now was the time that I needed my faith to stay strong. I'd been given assurance that everything would be alright, I just needed to believe it.

In the ER, we were given a doctor who wasn't concerned with what had happened to mom's arm, but she was concerned with what was going on in her brain. She ordered a brain scan, and within 15 minutes of arriving, we were called to mom's bedside for the results. The cat scan had revealed a large tumor on the left side of mom's head, on top of her brain. The pressure from the tumor had cut of her ability to move her leg and talk, and it had grown so large that it had ruptured and was now bleeding, which was making everything worse. She was admitted and the rest of the family was called. I put notices on Facebook asking people to pray, we made phone calls and stayed in prayer most of the day ourselves. We knew that prayer was the only thing that could bring her through, so we wanted as many people on this case as possible.
As the day progressed, mom seemed to get worse. We didn't know until that night when Dr. Kutz came in that mom had been monitored all day, and the bleeding had stopped that morning, right around noon. We know who did that. God was on the scene.
Dr. Kutz pulled up the MRI they had done of mom earlier in the day, and I'm pretty sure my heart stopped beating for a few seconds. It was worse that I had thought. It looked as though the tumor covered the whole back left section of her brain. The doctor told us that the tumor needed to be removed, because if it wasn't, she would die. She'd only have a few days left. But if he did remove the tumor, she would probably suffer brain damage. The most likely would be that she would stay in the same condition she was in at that time. Not walking, and not talking. That was discouraging. Mom was there, she understood things we told her, but she just couldn't say anything back. I think that broke my heart worse than anything. Watching her cry because she couldn't talk.
Dad called Russ and I outside the room and asked our advice. He didn't want to lose mom, but he also didn't want her suffering by not being able to express her thoughts. We decided to leave the decision up to mom. Russ worked out a system with her so she could communicate. She would squeeze his hand if the answer was yes.
"Mom, do you understand what the doctor said?"
*squeeze*
"Do you want to have the surgery?"
*squeeze* And then she leaned forward on the bed and said "Get it OUT!"
That was what we needed to hear. Words spoken in a sentence, perfectly understood by all. The doctor had said that since the tumor had stopped bleeding, he would be able to wait until the next morning to do the surgery, but if we felt like it should be sooner, he would do it that night. Mom wanted to wait, and we did too. If he had done it that night, he wouldn't have had a team or some of the proper equipment, but the next morning, everything would be as close to perfect as he could get it.
I'll never forget what dad asked him after that;
"Before I agree to let you do this surgery, I have to know something. Are you a man that believes in God and the power of prayer? Do you know where your help comes from? Because if you don't, I'm not letting you lay a finger on my wife." 
My dad's pretty great about that. Dr Kutz reassured dad and even promised to call the family in for a special  prayer right before they wheeled mom in to the operating room.

The waiting began.

Our pastor and his wife came up that night and we all prayed over mom while she slept. She never knew we were there, but God did.
All night mom would drift in and out of sleep, all the while moaning and holding her head. When she would rouse, we would ask her if she wanted some pain medicine, but she'd refuse. We took turns staying in the room with her. First dad and myself, then my brother and sister-in-law. I had sent my husband home earlier in the day, not thinking that they would have the surgery so soon. But now I know why I'd sent him home. It was so I could be there for dad. We'd support each other, boost each others faith, talk about the Scriptures and how as long as we believe, anything we'd ask for would be given us. We also started praying that mom would not only be alright through the surgery, but that when she came out, at least she'd be able to talk. We didn't want her to be trapped within herself.

A pretty Sunday morning dawned bright and early. My husband arrived before 6 because they were planning to take her at 7 AM. When 7 came and she was still in her room, we didn't think much about it, but when 10 AM came and she was still there, we were a little upset. Come to find out there had been an accident early that morning and there was a person with a broken neck that had to be taken first. We were pushed to 11:55. At 12:30 when she was still in her room, we inquired again. More accidents had occurred, so we'd been put off again. Finally at 2 PM they came to get her for the final MRI before the surgery. By this time, more of the family had showed up and were waiting in the waiting room. After they took mom for the MRI, we were all shown to a different floor where the surgery would be held so we could wait there.
After the MRI, Dad, Russ and I were called to wait with mom in the prep room. The doctor came in and we prayed. It was great. Our faith was renewed, and we knew that she'd be OK. We told her we loved her and she was able to say "Love you too".  We were walking out the door when she looked at Russ and I and said "Kids.......I'll be OK."  Such wonderful words to hear. They wheeled her to surgery and we headed to the waiting room.
It was 3:30 PM and we had the assurance of at least 2 hours before we heard anything. In the waiting room, there were about 30 members of the extended family waiting there. My grandmas, mom's brothers and sister, their families, cousins, close friends, our pastor and his wife........and what do you think we did?
That's right. We prayed again. We're not some of those people that thinks you can pray one time and then you're done. 1 Thessalonians 5:17 "Pray without ceasing" If a little does good, we know a lot will do better!
Dr. Kutz came out to talk to us at 6 PM. The surgery was a complete success. They removed it all, and cleaned out all the excess blood. He didn't know how bad her brain had been injured because she was still asleep, but her left side seemed to function normally. We could see her in the ICU in about 1 1/2 hours, but she would be there for roughly 2 days. Then we could expect a 4 to 5 day stay in a normal hospital room, then we'd take it from there.

Dad went in first, but was back to get Russ and I within 2 minutes. As we walked into her room, mom started smiling. Her head was bandaged, but her color was already better than that morning.
"Hey! There's my kids! Look, guys, I'm talkin'!" 
If it hadn't been in the ICU, at night, when everyone is supposed to be quiet, I think we all would have started shouting. Not only had God answered our prayer about her making it through the surgery, but he answered the one about her talking too. I knew then and there that not only would He let her talk, but she'd be walking one day.

She only stayed in the ICU for 12 hours, and only stayed in the hospital from Saturday, April 21st, to Wednesday, April 25th. She started moving her leg again on her own on Tuesday, April 24th, much to the amazement of her doctors. It stayed partially numb for several days after that, and moving it was a struggle, but let me tell you something. She's walking today. She wiggles her foot and toes.
Yes, she is constantly tired. Yes, she still has trouble focusing on things sometimes. Yes, it will take a while. But she's coming back to herself. Every single day she gets more and more normal. The doctors didn't do that.
I'm very thankful for surgeons and doctors that have a God given knowledge of the human body and healing.......but they didn't do it on their own. God's hands are guiding them, and that's what I'm the most thankful for.

When you put both parts of the story together, you can really truly see how God was at work through the whole thing. All the way back from the incident with the weed trimmer. I think sometimes that maybe that was His way of releasing that cancer. I don't know. His timing isn't ours. But one thing is for certain; Mom is a walking, talking testimony of what God can do when we trust in Him.

As for those spots on her lungs, we're going back to the doctor in 3 months. I'm praying for them to be gone. To have just.......vanished. Because I know my God is capable of that. He may not remove them that way. And if He doesn't.......He has supplied us with other options of treatment.

It's a shame that we take life for granted most of the time, and it takes something serious like this to get us back in line where we need to be. After all, every breath you take is a miracle.
Thanks for taking the time to hear my miracle story. I hope it has touched your heart in some way, and you realize how very precious life is.

We want to give all the praise and glory to God, as well as our never ending thanks for this amazing gift!

 We are blessed!