ice-out

apparently the mcnatts moved to minnesota just in time to take part in weather history.  DNR officials are declaring this winter one of the longest ever. up in these parts, winter is kind of measured by the thawing of water -- i suppose that's fitting for the state of 10,000 lakes. each year when spring hits and lake minnetonka begins to thaw there's one specific date chosen which declares "ice-out!"  ice-out is determined when the first boat can navigate the thawing lake waters without encountering ice.   in past years, ice-out has occurred somewhere in middle to late march.  well, we passed that date up a month ago, and we are now closing on the end of april, there is little evidence that we are still anywhere near the great ice-out.  truth be told, we are still very much "ice-in." only a couple of times in all of history has lake minnetonka been ice covered in the merry month of may.  but this year, it is looking very likely.  1965 was the last year to have an ice-out in may. i wasn't even born in 1965...

what a foot of snow looks like in april!

and here we are in the final week of april, still looking at an enormous amount of snow and a frozen lake behind our house. just last week we had a winter storm hit which dumped 14 inches of snow in one night.  school was delayed the next morning.  minnesota never delays or cancels anything due to weather, that alone tells you how incredible the storm.  this is  far from normal -- even for minnesota.  how do i know this?  because everyone (and i do mean everyone) makes a point to tell us.  anyone who hears this is our first winter is quick to explain how abnormal this is...like they are certain we've already started packing to return south.  it's actually kind of funny, except that it's not.  no one is laughing very much about the weather in minnesota.  even our pastor started his sermon this past sunday saying, "it's no longer funny."  so here we are in our strange month of spring where temperatures continue to plummet low and snow piles continue to loom high. and the lake out back...well, that's a toss up between antarctica and alaska. as i mentioned in my last post, there is a small slice of open water running along the shoreline now, but that's it.  when my friend, leslie, first sent me a link to the "ice-out" stuff on lake minnetonka, i found it incredibly interesting.  people place bets on the date, they throw parties and celebrate the end of winter when ice-out is finally and officially declared.  because we live in a lake community, it's a big deal out here, especially for those who make their livelihood on the lake.   everyone is just itching to go.  boats are being primed and cleaned and ready to hit water. no one wants to think about how last year at this time, docks and boats were well into the water and spring was in full swing. this year...not a chance. tomorrow's forecast:  6 to 10 inches of snow!  actually as i sit here typing...guess what it's doing outside...yep.

cbs reporter, colin smith, contributed the following article last week: 
Lake Minnetonka Could Face Historically Late Ice-Out   
"The ice is 20 inches thick in some spots, and with more cold weather in the forecast, some wonder if we could be on our way to a not-so-desirable record.

“I don’t think we’re within days of the ice-out. We may be more within weeks of it,” said Pat Sweeney with the Freshwater Society, the Excelsior group that has tracked dates back to 1855. “It is conceivable that we could still have ice on the lake in May.”     

of course i love the expression "ice-out."  it makes me think not only about the ice-out on the lake, but also the ice that settles sometimes in my heart.  i don't know about you, but i've definitely had that frozen feeling deep inside of me at times.  i've experienced the hardening of my heart when i've been angry, disappointed, betrayed.  it's not a fun place to be.  it creates a cold, numbing callous which seems almost impossible to break through,  impossible to navigate around.   when i am in the middle of an ice-in, it affects all parts of my life.  when the ice is thick, the winter is long.  the woman is bitter.

and just like the many factors which contribute to the thawing of lake minnetonka each spring, there are many things which help in the thawing of our hearts.  we can stand there with arms crossed and head bowed low, telling ourselves we're safer frozen.  we don't want to melt.  melting, as we know, brings vulnerability. melting means we have to do something, feel something, be something. but Jesus never created us to be frozen, He wants nothing more than to navigate through the ice of our souls.  and only He can accomplish this.  all of the little attempts we make on our own, really don't amount to much, do they?  not when we're contending with something so big, so solid, so set. did you read what that piece above said?  even in april, the ice is still 20 inches thick! and that's nothing compared to the hardness of our hearts.  only Jesus can come in and begin the cracking which needs to take place. the cracking of numb to bring in the living of new.  and just like this silly old lake still frozen out back, the timing is His alone.

i watched the boys standing down at the lake last week throwing big stones and rocks out onto the ice.  is that a boy thing or what?  i know they were trying to assist with the breaking up of the massive ice.  two young boys on the shoreline tossing rocks, hardly making a dent...that's kind of like us, isn't it?  we sometimes try to chisel away at the frozen pieces inside of us.  and really we are no more than young boys with a handful of pebbles in our pockets.  but if you're at all like me, we still feel the need to help God out.  because He needs us, right?  the King, the Creator of the universe, the Maker of all ice, He needs us. (not).

even minne wonders... when?

but still we wonder.  the kids and rick and me, we look out at this 14,500 acre lake, and we can't fathom how it will all one day be open water again. we can't imagine how that just happens all of a sudden.  lake minnetonka boasts 125 miles of shoreline alone...it is enormous and  it seems too thick, too massive, too frozen.  from my perch up here at the house, a great thaw seems beyond the realm of possibility.  kind of how we sometimes see our own sin: too awful, too much, too massive...but that's exactly the kind of heart God wants to begin breaking.

and, oh, that breaking...oh, that cracking...it isn't always very pretty.  it doesn't always feel particularly good, in fact, it can actually be somewhat painful.  God uses lots of things in our lives to make us melt.  but what He is doing is melting us right back into Him and into His Spirit.  He tells us to put down our tiny chisels and our small rocks and lean into His warmth.  only His arms of love carry the heat needed to crack our hard hearts. we just can't do it ourselves.

and flowing, wild lives is what He wants for those He loves wildly and deep:

"and I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. and I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh." ~  ezekiel 26:36

when God removes that heart of stone, that heart full of heavy ice, it is nothing short of amazing.  only He can take out what seems so stubbornly set.  maybe you've never lived on a lake like this, but perhaps you've had the chance to experience God's massaging thaw of your own heart.  when He navigates right through us, the results are remarkable and freeing. they are life-bringing.

when things thaw, life thrives.  and it's a beautiful thing.

“Praise the Lord, O Jerusalem! Praise your God, O Zion!… He gives snow like wool; He scatters the frost like ashes. He casts forth His ice as fragments, Who can stand before His cold? He sends forth His word and melts them He causes His wind to blow and the waters to flow.” ~Psalm 147:12-18

* postscript....
one part that makes this slow thawing lake especially sad is that we aren't here much longer.  i'm afraid with our move date fast approaching, we won't get to witness the great ice-breaking in our backyard.  next week, the mcnatts will be moving from minnetrista to eden prairie.  it's about 25 minutes closer in to our schools and work and church.  this lake living was only temporary--we knew that from the beginning.  this awesome, old house on the lake was already rented for this coming summer and so it's time for the mcnatt family to move on to something different.  a new chapter.  of course we're sad to be leaving the water behind. we've treasured up some great memories in our short time here.  living on water has been an incredible treat for all of us.  and who knows, we might do it again someday!  

conversation hearts

it had been a quiet ride home from morning carpool.  music played in the background of my thoughts and the littlest one sat unusually silent in the backseat of my yukon.  we were almost to our final turn when she, out of the blue, asked,

"mama, is Jesus in ivy joy's heart?"

oh, what a question for a mama with only one cup of coffee in her.  we had talked quite a bit last night about ivy's heart. the girls were making cards to send to her hospital room and in the middle of stickers and markers, bella wanted to know more about ivy's heart.  is it getting better?  why did she have to have surgery? why is she sick?  what does her heart look like? bella was especially fascinated when i explained how they had used some pig tissue in ivy's heart.  bella has a little bit of a cow's pericardium in her own heart.  we joked about how she and ivy would be really good at their "moos" and "oinks"... she laughed, thinking that was so, so funny.  i suppose in many ways it is absolutely not funny, but we have to take what God gives us and go with it sometimes. and this was one of those times.

but this morning her question came from no where.
a quiet car and we were almost home.
but she asked again.

"mama, is Jesus in ivy joy's heart?"

it reminded me of our conversation back in november, when we were on the way to bella's appointment at the mayo clinic.  again in the car, bella and i were talking about her heart and what the doctors were going to do at this appointment.

"why do they have to look at my heart, mama?"
"they want to see how it's working, sweetie," i explained.
"but, what will they see in there?" she continued to press.
"they will see your heart beating and humming and doing just what it should be doing."
bella sat quietly for a second and i watched her in my rearview mirror, the wheels clearly and rapidly turning.
"mama!" she exclaimed, with a giggle,"they might see Jesus in my heart!" 

oh, how that made me want to laugh and cry and sing for joy all at once. what a comment!  what a beautiful, beautiful comment! words only possible from the lips of a child.

"yes bella! Jesus is in your heart...though, honey, i'm not sure if the doctors will actually see Him, but He is absolutely there."
"they will see Him, mama." she said shaking her head with complete confidence. "they will see Him."

and i had to quietly agree.  how could they not?

                                                    . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

and then this morning, another car conversation about hearts.

after talking a little bit more about ivy and her heart, bella continued to press further in her questions.  (i am sure by this point, you are wishing you were sitting in my passenger seat, watching me attempt to navigate the minnesota roads and the little miss inquistive's questions -- and again, with minimal coffee in me).

"mom, does everyone have Jesus in their heart?"
i paused for a moment, thinking: she is only four, where do these questions come from?
"well, no bella.  not everyone has Jesus in their heart."
"REALLY???" bella gasped in great disbelief and complete childhood shock.
"but why, mama?  why don't people have Jesus in their hearts?"
and then one more time, "why wouldn't people want Jesus in their hearts?"

diana took this picture last september.
it perfectly captures that "look" of bella's!

i wish you could have seen her face.  i sat at the stoplight watching her reaction to my answer. she has this way of opening up her eyes super wide -- it is the perfect picture of incredulity.  and that was the look she gave me.  "why mama?  why don't people have Jesus in their hearts?"  it was as if i had told her that blue and pink polka dotted elephants were coming to our house for dinner tonight.

it was the first time she had ever heard such a thing...

and, so today, i leave you with bella's little girl question.  why don't people have Jesus in their heart?

we know this.

but when was the last time we were startled to the point of wide-eyed wonder and total disbelief?

as usual, i love how God uses little ones to make us think about big things...

and, "yes, bella.  Jesus is definitely in ivy joy's heart.  He is written all over this precious girl."  as her own mama said below (check comments) "Of course Ivy has Jesus in her heart, He is and always will be the owner of her heart, her first love, the only one who will never break her heart!"  a-men.

"do you hear what these children are saying?" 

they asked him. "yes," replied Jesus, "have you never read, 

"'from the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise'?"

~matthew 21:16

one little lamb

it's raining in minnesota tonight.  that's so odd.  how can a january day in minnesota be warm enough for rain? but it is.  and i sit and listen to the soft rat a tat tat of raindrops hitting windows.  i hear it  along the chimney brick -- a bare whisper joining the cacophonous sounds of busy children around our house.  couch time and cartoons down the hallway for a tired ballerina...puppy barking playful in the kitchen...music from my almost-teen daughter's bedroom.  the pantry door opens. closes. opens again.  and this is our thursday afternoon.  and i only want to bundle it all up in my arms and hold it tight.  i want to push pause. i want to sit in the sound of raindrops... and feel the mix of my tears.

i've just come from hugging my friend diana in the parking lot.  she has been in contact with mary today.  we all know ivy isn't doing well. they made it to boston last night, they've made it through so much already.  but there's more.  we all know that, too. much more. please go on to mary's blog (click here) to read her latest update.  only a couple of hours or so ago, she wrote.  her words are amazing.  inspiring. incredibly beautiful...and raw. so raw.

i have been pondering all week why ivy's story has hit so close to home.  yes, my sweet friend, diana, is wrapped up in this as one of mary's very dearest friends...but there's more.  perhaps it's that mary is walking the story that we were warned of three years ago when trying to decide on bella's file in the summer of 2009.  i'll never forget the cardiologist who reviewed bella's information for us.  we talked long distance on a sunny, hot july day in georgia and she told me, "jody, i cannot recommend you pursue this little girl...her condition is too serious. there's too much risk.  you have no idea. there's a likely chance you'll bring her home, only to lose her.  you could potentially have surgery after surgery with this child.  you have other, healthy children...think of how this could effect them. think of your other children, jody.  do you really want to put your family through this?"  i assure you, she did not relay these words in a cold, collected, sterile manner.  no, this professional...this medically astute doctor...this woman's words were tearful. emotional. full of great empathy. but still, at the end of the day, she recommended we decline bella's file.

i am so glad we didn't do what the doctor ordered that day. (understatement of the year).

somehow, even against the advice of medical professionals, we went on to follow our heart... to listen to God's voice.  not because we were that strong, but perhaps, more so,  because we were that naive...we were that medically in the dark...and perhaps a tad bit stubborn. i, specifically, never like to be told "no."  i am not sure how it all happened, but, we pursued bella...and you know the rest of the story.

but there was a time when we were very concerned our first year with bella might look like what the sammon's family has gone through with ivy this year.  it woke me up at night throughout that time of waiting.   i had people question us.  wonder about us.  we had friends go to great lengths to raise money because we were all certain her medical bills would be staggering. and, if you were reading along back then, you might remember me saying this:  "i am not the most medically equipped mother, i am a woman who struggles with bandaids and tylenol."  i didn't have the skill set needed for a serious heart baby --  heck, i don't have the skill set needed for a scraped knee! i assure you.  but God let us know in the way He let's us know...that it didn't matter.  I will equip those whom I call.  that is what we heard over and over again.  we didn't have to be perfect parents or professional-anythings...we just had to be willing.

i write this tonight so burdened, because i am sure that is what mary would want you to know as well.  read her blog.  that is exactly what she says.  YES this has been HARD.  incredibly hard...incredibly tiring...incredibly challenging.  but she wouldn't change it.  YES she wants to change what is going on tonight with ivy...but she wouldn't change saying YES to ivy. not ever.  this amazing mama has fought -- and is fighting -- a brilliant battle for her tiny girl.  no, it hasn't been easy, but it's been good.  that's where we go wrong in our thinking...that easy must = good.  if there's one message i have wanted to hammer hard into my blog writing over these years, it is this:  don't believe the world's lie that for something to be good it must also be easy. convenient.  comfortable. safe. sensible.

"the struggle of life is one of our greatest blessings. it makes us patient, sensitive, and Godlike. it teaches us that although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it."  ~ helen keller

i won't pretend to compare what we've been through with what the sammons family is going through.  but we know this a little.  we've shared those lessons here in this blog...and we know, without a doubt, there will be more lessons to learn. (sigh).

but here's the deal, when we can come to that place of acceptance, it changes everything about how we live. that's what i want for my family...for my children.  we didn't pursue bella for the drama, but for the difference we'd make in her life and the difference she'd make in our lives. we did it out of obedience to what God's word says.  there is no gray area here. "pure and genuine religion in the sight of God the Father means caring for orphans and widows in their distress and refusing to let the world corrupt you." (james 1:27).  we are called to do something.  SOMETHING.  there just weren't enough reasons to say no. a medical diagnosis wasn't enough. a lack of finances or time or bedrooms...those aren't reasons enough. those of you who have adopted special needs children, you understand.  sure, we got the extra blessing of bella surprising us all and being in better health than we could have even hoped.  the incredible surgery performed on her in china was bold and brilliant. it was life saving and life sustaining.   oh, how i thank my heavenly father every single day for what He orchestrated in her heart in 2009.  three years later, and it still takes my breath away to consider His mercy on my girl.

what mary sammons and her family have done for ivy is exactly what Jesus has done for us.  they went for one child. just one. one little girl who had nothing to bring,  nothing obvious to offer.  but they loved her completely and unconditionally.   just as Jesus considers us, just as He loves us -- completely and unconditionally. we come to Him as empty handed orphans, but He wants us so much, He is willing to leave the ninety-nine and go after His one lost sheep. that is the picture of adoption.  that is the picture of our adoption in Christ. not abandoned, but pursued. wanted. chosen. even chased.

"then Jesus told them this parable: “suppose one of you has a hundred sheep and loses one of them. doesn’t he leave the ninety-nine in the open country and go after the lost sheep until he finds it? and when he finds it, he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home. then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, ‘rejoice with me; i have found my lost sheep.' i tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent."  ~ luke 15


he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home...
he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home...
he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home...

joyfully.

when we began our adoption of bella, we heard from several people who said things like, "but there are millions of orphans..."  um.. yeah? as if that was reason to not adopt. the crisis is so huge, that we do nothing? just because there are over 150 million orphaned children in this world, we are to do nothing? really?  is that what we truly believe?  NO!  you do what you can.  you listen to what God places on your heart...and you follow THAT, not what the bank account tells you isn't possible or what the doctors tell you isn't a good risk...

i love the words of mother teresa, "if you can't feed a hundred people, than feed just one." that's it.  just one. one. one.  okay, well, maybe two or three or ten...but we start with one.

ivy joy is so sick.  we don't know what her future holds.  none of us have that answer right now.  but we all are absolutely certain that ivy joy has felt the love and the embrace of a tender mother and father's arms. and no matter what, that is worth every bit of this journey, no matter how hard the struggle.

we don't love our children because they are a good investment or because we deem them a good risk...we love them because that's what we are called to do.  love them.  one by one by one by one.

one little lamb at a time.

"he joyfully puts it on his shoulders and goes home..."

joy in the morning -- God CAN do this.

it is morning, and i watch the sky wake in streaks of color.  purple. pink. orange. all casting golden kisses onto the stark white of the minnesota snow.  frozen lake shimmers in the blanket of sun rising.  and i am amazed.  God, you do this.  every morning you bring something beautiful.  always different.  from coast to coast, and across the globe you wake the world with something wonderful.  and you do this. you choose to do this beautiful, breathtaking, glorious thing.

God, you can paint the sky with your brushstrokes of beauty, and we are asking you, right now, to dissolve the clot in the heart of sweet ivy joy.  you know her.  you know her well. you knit her together in the womb.  you knit her into the sammons family only a year ago.  she's been brought before your throne by the praying saints of so many.  people across this continent are praying feverishly this week for the life of ivy.  there are even some praying who have only just learned to pray because of this very thing you are working in a tiny girl brought home from china.

you paint the sky in a rainbow of morning gold.  Lord, Lord, Lord, would you bind up the broken heart of ivy. would you bring healing.  mercy.  peace.  your will.

she is so sick.  back in icu - a blood clot and a failing valve. her newly operated-on heart is not doing what needs to be done.  you know that. but the news has been devastating this week for the sammons family in phoenix.  if this clot does not dissolve they are faced with flying back to boston. they are faced with perhaps opening up ivy once again. they are faced with no good options.

and i just cannot imagine...  

and just yesterday,  i found out that yet another friend has been diagnosed with breast cancer.  that's my third friend this year. this mother and wife had to tell her family in the weeks before christmas that she had cancer.

and i can imagine...

i will never forget those painful moments of telling. and my heart breaks for the fear and bewilderment of these friends and their loved ones.  the pain of telling, perhaps greater than any physical pain.

heart issues and breast cancer.  both so close to home.  both are conditions which still continue to wake me in the middle of night.  i worry about bella.  i know she's doing well, but i'm her mom and i worry.  the breast cancer thing too.  it's there.  my prognosis is so good, but every time i walk into the oncologist's office, i am reminded that after a cancer diagnosis, it is always a part of your life.  even after a bilateral mastectomy, there's always something to watch...monitor...manage.  new science. new medicine.  something else to test for.  a pill to take daily. a troublesome thought camped out in the back of my brain -- removed, but not fully eradicated from the fabric of my human fear.

and in this past year, a friend calls and tells me she has been diagnosed.  another friend writes. she too, diagnosed. and even one more tells me of her breast cancer standing in the supermarket.  and i think, really?  how can there be so many in my circle of connection?

two weeks before christmas, within 24 hours of each other, i had one friend go in for a needle biopsy, another friend, on that same day, undergo a bilateral mastectomy, and a third friend, back in atlanta, lose her three year battle with cancer and go home to Jesus.  i started a post about that two weeks before christmas, but couldn't find the words.  still can't.

and this morning as i watch the sun rise over a frozen lake, even golden,  it seems too much.

clots and chronic heart conditions and cancer...

i know everything is for your glory, Lord, and i believe that. but i don't get this.  it was just christmas, and now these sweet friends are faced with these heavy, hard places.  yesterday, i spent hours putting away our holiday things and sweeping pine needles from every corner of our home. i found myself frustrated with the need to sweep needles.  how ashamed i am at the small things which cause me to grumble and complain. Lord, sweep this pettiness from my life. Father, forget the pine needles, but sweep this pain and suffering from the lives of these precious people.  today, i continue to sweep and i pray, knowing you hear, Lord Jesus.  you hear and you hold it all...the heavy and the hard.  the broken and the burden.

we ask for your mercy and full healing.  we ask for your comfort and compassion.  "he heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds." (psalm 147:3).  you can do this, Jehovah Rapha -- the God who heals. you can do this.  you are a God who paints the sky --  glorious and good.  we cannot understand how you choose to display your holiness, but it is good.  it is always good.  i read the blog of ivy's mom (mary) and am amazed at how she continues to staunchly trust in your plan and your perfect will. could i be so constant?  could i be so sure?  she is on her knees in crippling fear for her baby girl's life, and, yet, she continues to give you glory and praise.  

oh, that we might be like that in our faith.  that we might have the faith of mustard seed moving mountains.  that we might be able to hold the hem of God's garment when those mountains shake and fall crashing into a dark sea. and, dear ones, that is where God's glory is truly revealed. the sunrise captivates us and catches our morning eye, but God's glory is demonstrated in the lives of those who, though suffering, surrender. fully.

while i am typing out this troubled post, my friend, diana, who is in constant contact with mary, sent me this text from mary:

"we need a miracle in the cath lab at 11am.  not for a cath, but for a fluoroscopy.  if the leaflet in the valve is still stuck, there is nothing else they can do here. God can do this!"

oh friends, please continue to pray -- in the words of ivy's mamma, mary, "God can do this!"

 here is mary's blog address, if you'd like to connect directly and follow the updates on ivy joy:  http://sammonsfamily7.blogspot.com/

"weeping may tarry for the night,  
but joy comes with the morning."  ~ psalm 30:5

thanksgiving in our hearts

(from tuesday)...

i wonder if i'll ever be able to sit through one of bella's cardiology appointments and not tear up.  seriously.  i've just kind of accepted the fact that i wear waterproof - or no - mascara and bring tissues. lots of them.

i am always amazed.

i'll never forget the appointment back in atlanta, when her first pediatric cardiologist got choked up with emotion and began to quietly weep while explaining her story to a group of medical students there to observe.  from some things he had said at earlier visits, i was pretty sure this doctor wasn't a believer in Jesus.  but how could he not be?  how could he do what he did with such passion and love and brilliance, and not believe?  i wondered that so many times when we went in to visit him.  how could he look at what had been done in bella's heart,  how could he see the miracle from his trained medical eyes and not see the presence and power of God?

i'll never get that.

today we had our first appointment in minnesota.  okay, so that part was different.  different state, different hospital, different doctor, but i felt exactly the same watching the doctors study her echocardiogram results and look over her little body. (just about 30 lbs now!) tears were right there ready to bubble up and out except that bella kept things light.  she talked, almost nonstop, to the technician doing her echo, like they had been pals forever.  lying perfectly still, she watched cinderella and provided a running commentary on the film.  "those mice are getting into trouble...cinderella's dress is so beautiful...i don't like that cat with the ugly eyes...those mean girls tore cinderella's dress. why did they tear her dress, mama?..."  on an on, she chattered.  she was hooked up to that machine for over an hour and a half, but my girl never flinched.  never complained. never argued.

i was a little thrown off when i realized that the mayo clinic was a two hour drive from our house.  the clinic and this new cardiologist had come highly recommended, but i have to tell you, my practical side wondered if there wasn't a highly qualified doctor just a tad bit closer.  and as i drove passing nothing but cornfields and farms all the way from minneapolis to rochester, i continued to question my decision.  except we were going to the world renown mayo clinic - the best of the best, right?  i kept driving, wishing all the while i had at least brought my camera to snap some roadside photos of barns and silos (galore)!

once inside mayo, it didn't take long to realize it is a place as special as we'd heard. it just is.  i was so impressed with absolutely every facet.  everything felt friendly and accessible,  even the parking garage -- (is it is possible for a parking garage to feel friendly and accessible? yes, yes it is).  the medical personnel were exceptional.  the cardio technician who walked us from the waiting room to the echo lab jumped over patterns in the carpet with bella, pretending they were stones and the carpet a pit of hot lava.  by the time he had hooked her up to the machine, they were fast friends.

but even being inside the halls of this prestigious clinic wasn't exactly easy.  it's clear, really sick people come there for help. the corridors were bustling, like a busy mall on black friday.  between appointments, bella and i wandered down to the main atrium. an older man was playing the grand piano and singing well known hymns at the top of his lungs.  he had an audience of the seriously ill, the weak, the wasting.  the people leaning in and listening to him were in wheel chairs or hunched over in seats.  some held the hands of caretakers or family members.   some sat alone holding their pain and their tired with loose hands -- ready to let go soon.  at one point, bella climbed out of her stroller and began to weave through the crowd of patients.  she was sort of skipping and dancing to this man's music and i could see that she wanted to get closer to his piano.  i know she wanted to watch his fingers fly across the keys.  she is always curious.  i started after her, but let her go when i noticed the looks on the faces of these older, sicker, more somber men and women.  their mouths began to turn upward in tiny smiles...faces grew brighter...eyes followed bella around the room.  she had no idea how her dancing little body in striped leggings and purple dress was cheering up the scene.

and from there she continued to do her little four year old magic everywhere she went.  every room we went in.  every medical person we met.  every person we passed.  she had a smile or a wave or a funny comment for them all.  even the people on the various elevators.  at one point, i thought a man from one elevator ride might just get off at our floor and follow us down to cardiology.  that sounds creepy, but it wasn't.  just in the few minutes on that elevator this older gentleman clearly became enchanted with bella's joy.

okay, so this post, so far, sounds like a gloating mama.  perhaps.  but really what i am writing to say is that this tiny girl with her back pack and her bitty baby just didn't quite fit the scene.  she is the picture of health.  and yet, we all know she's got this incredibly complex heart inside her.  a heart which i have no control over.  i can't tidy it up or deck it out with a pretty bow.  i can't tell it to behave or keep it in line.  it is what it is.  and today we were heading into a series of appointments to hear more about what the future looked like for bella's little heart.   we knew that a second surgery for bella was going to be necessary.  what they were able to do in china 2 1/2 years ago, was amazing and wonderful, but another surgery was absolutely on the horizon.  we were here today to see just how close that horizon might be.  back in atlanta, our cardiologist was thinking it might be sooner than originally thought.  today we were to find out what the professionals at mayo thought.  we were going to hear what a new cardiologist had to say.

bella was born with VSD (a hole in her heart), pulmonary stenosis (a narrowing of the pulmonary valve) and transposition (her main arteries are switched/transposed). pretty big stuff for such a tiny little girl.  in july of 2009, she had major heart surgery in china, the very same month we found her file and began her adoption. needless to say, bella's heart looks different from yours and mine. she's got this crazy little tunnel right through the center, her wiring is kind of flip flopped, and, at this point, she doesn't have a pulmonary valve.  (that's what she'll need in a future surgery). to top it off,  she even has part of a cow's peracardium inside her, not many of us can boast that!  confusing isn't it?  and remember, i am the mama who struggles to find bandaids and tylenol.  how many times have i sat in different doctor's offices hearing them explain the intricacies of her heart and been overwhelmed.  each time! every time!  i am always overwhelmed by what they are saying and i am even more overwhelmed by what God has been busy doing!  it is all way beyond me...way beyond my comprehension.  but that's they way it goes with God sometimes, doesn't it? He works in ways beyond what we can even imagine or understand.

so here we were today --- an almost two hour echocardiogram and consult appointment and then off to another meeting with our new cardiologist, dr. chabalka.  all of it smooth and amazing.  all of it top notch.   but even as great as it was going, i began to feel a bit anxious as i watched the technician's ultra sound screen.  i could tell that there was an awful lot of blue and red color exploding on his black screen.  i knew from previous appointments, that was leakage. and it worried me.

our long day ended sitting in dr. cabalka's office.  she was wonderful with bella, taking the time to ask a whole lot of questions that didn't seem to be pertinent to her heart, but were evidence she wanted to know more about bella and our family.  she wanted the whole picture.  bella danced around the room, up and down from the examining table, a pigtailed ball of energy, a really wound up four year old. finally, i scooped her onto my lap and in less than two minutes she was sound asleep -- completely conked out from her big day.  the bounce and chatter and enchantment all finally quiet.  the doctor and i continued to talk.  i learned that she is not only a believer, but that she had also spent a good deal of time in china.  she has a soft spot in her own heart for chinese kids with CHD.  just last month she was in nepal with a medical mission's team working on children with heart disease.   we could have talked for hours.  she told me a lot about bella's heart, making it clear for my medically challenged brain.  the best thing she told me was that it looked like bella's next heart surgery could be pushed off until maybe even double digits.  there are no guarantees, but she really felt like bella was doing exceptionally well and all that leakage in the ultra sound was okay. she wasn't worried about it.  her heart may be functioning a little differently than most people's, but it was working well and, in its own way, it was giving her everything she needed.  dr. chalbalka said, "let's get this gal a little bigger and stronger before we attempt to go back into that amazing heart of hers."  it was a big day filled with big things, but that news was the biggest and best part of all those hours:  we have time.  maybe even more time than we originally thought walking in today.  

we drove home from mayo at the edge of dark, passing those same barns and silos now shadows against the red of western sky.  bella, half asleep in the backseat and me, driving, praying, thinking and thanking.   tomorrow we would prepare for thanksgiving -- just two days away.  preparing our food.  preparing our table.  preparing our hearts. 

but tonight, giving thanks for today.  

thanksgiving came a couple days early. 

            "i will give thanks to the LORD with my whole heart; 
 i will recount all of your wonderful deeds." 

~ psalm 9:1 

                        

bella's heart

since hearing about bella's complex heart issues last summer we have waited (not at all patiently) for the day we would take her to a cardiologist here in atlanta.   i was an english major- a teacher.  rick is a businessman.  neither of us is exactly well versed in subjects of biology. anatomy.  the heart.  i might be able to recite a sonnet about the heart, but i sure as heck couldn't explain how the organ actually functions. again, we had to be a little puzzled about God choosing us to go chase down a baby girl with chronic heart disease.  throughout this year i have stopped several times and asked Him, "are you sure?   Lord, are you sure it is supposed to be us?"  i'll definitely read bella poetry about her heart...but she needs so much more than poetry.


august 6th was the day.  if you've read through my blog you know that appointment had to be changed three different times as we waited for bella.   but finally bella was here and the day was here and we were on our way to see the highly recommended specialist, dr. sabino, at sibley heart center.  as we left the house bella only knew we were "going bye-bye." 

during her EKG bella was not at all happy with the wires and stickers and "things"  (remember, i am not a medical person) they put on her.  i am sure there are some memories in her little head of these items and i can't imagine they are pleasant.  anyway, she was comforted with bubbles and stickers.  but when we went in to do the ECHO/ultrasound, the technician explained bella would have to lie pretty still and it might take about 30 minutes to get all the pictures the doctor would need.  i kind of looked at her and thought, "she's two.  since when does a two year old lie pretty still, anywhere?  let alone on a strange table with machines beeping and humming around her."   we had no choice.  this was what we were waiting for.  this would be the thing that would finally give us answers to our long list of questions regarding her health.  her future.  we laid her down and i crawled up on the table with her.  the lights dimmed and elmo came on the TV in the ceiling.  our technician was amazing.  she kept a big smile on her face and used a soothing voice the entire time.  within 5 minutes bella was fast asleep.  asleep.  10 am in the morning and bella had fallen asleep on a table. shirtless. cold gel on her body.  an ultrasound probe running up and down her little chest.  she was asleep.  none of us could believe it.  this wasn't bella's nap time and she certainly wasn't in a comfy and secure place.  but asleep she fell.  the technician finished her pictures and video. dr. sabino came in all smiles.  we liked him immediately.  he was able to review the pictures, speak at length with us, and compare everything to the notes and files we had with us (scant info at best).  then he decided to do his own ultrasound pictures.  it was a luxury.  bella was still sleeping soundly and he took advantage of her quiet, still body.  he took his time and studied everything on the screen, the entire time talking to rick and me about what he was seeing and explaining all of it in detail.  all in all, over 45 minutes had been spent studying bella's heart.   dr. sabino finished and sat back in his seat.  at this very moment bella opened her eyes.   i am sure if rick hadn't been in that room with me, i would question myself on whether this really had happened. as i sit here this morning and type out the day's story i realize how unbelievable this sounds.   i would have to question myself....had she REALLY been asleep the entire procedure.  really?  only one explanation:   i knew God was listening to the prayers of countless friends and family members. there is no doubt.  none. you prayed for a peaceful drs appointment and that is what we had.  what a blessing.

that was a cool, no, make that very cool moment.  but the best is yet to tell.  after studying everything carefully, dr. sabino looked up at us and said the surgery done last summer in china was a "complete repair."

i wondered if i heard him correctly. he went on to explain, her heart wasn't ever going to be normal and fully corrected, but what had been done had addressed all three areas. (pulmonary stenosis, transposition and the VSD).  we didn't expect that.  the surgical notes we had received did not lead us to believe this in any way. we very much expected to bring her home and find out she needed more surgery. she needed something.   but the REV surgery was a sophisticated, french surgery and the surgeon had been very bold.  he didn't put a bandaid on her situation, he went in all guns blazing.  there is no doubt this surgery saved her life.  she was blue, actually purple, when she went into the hospital last july.  she would not have made it very long without something major.  and something major is exactly what she got.  we still don't know who the surgeon was, or where the surgery was done...we don't know the details.  we are working on finding out this information.   i would love to give this man or woman a hug.  i'd love to give them a picture of bella with her new family.  i'd love to give them a glimpse of her running through our yard or giggling on our floor. i'd love to show them the life they had saved. the life of my little girl.  maybe someday. 

back to dr. sabino. he was amazing.  he took the time to draw the diagram of what bella's heart actually now looks like.  very different from yours or mine.  the plumbing is all quite unique to bella.   but the good news is it works.  her heart has two successfully pumping chambers and everything is doing what it needs to be doing. (i am still not fully understanding all of this "doing"...BUT i am learning).  she will need to have a valve replaced possibly in 5-7 years because of growth.  the valve won't grow with her...so it will need to be changed.  but that's it. nothing right now.  dr. sabino sat us in his office.  he looked into our faces and said, "hear me on this.  don't treat this child as fragile.  don't cardiac cripple this little girl.  she can do all the things other two year olds can do."  he was clear:  no limitations.  no restrictions.  no medications.  "let her be normal.  she is healthy."    oh friends, i can't tell you.  i just can't tell you what those words mean to this mother.  we never expected words so bold.   words so good.  words sounding quite so beautiful.   we know bella's heart will always be monitored...she will always have chronic heart disease....but she has been restored to health. 

throughout this year we are aware of the thousands of prayers which have been said for bella's heart.  we have heard our children pray daily for healing and protection.  we have received your messages and notes and words telling us of your prayers...the prayers of your children.  i know of two little girls in our circle of friends who have prayed each and every night for our little girl.  we have had friends come to our home to pray.  friends pray with us on the phone...in the car....i've had friends type out their prayers in email and inbox messages. it has been an amazing gift to our family.  we want more than anything for bella's story to reflect our God.  a God who listens.  a God who hears.  a God who desires to repair...restore...heal.    this story is not about a little girl who now has cute clothes and too many pairs of shoes.  this is not about bella blowing bubbles or eating an ice cream cone for the first time.  this story is about the God who created her and who sustains her and who will be very much glorified in her.

the story of bella has been a little dramatic.  a little captivating. i am looking forward to the day where i will write to you simply about bella learning to tie her shoes or bella learning to ride a bike. i am looking forward to rejoicing in her mastery of the ABC's or her ability to skip rope.  we have spent so much time this year on big things...like getting her home....like wondering about her heart.  sometimes we go through big things in life.   we've often felt like we were swimming in the bigness of bella's story.  but we know it is not where we are designed to live.  we were at this place to reflect God.   i have shared this story and this blog because i knew even a year ago this was not my story to keep private. initially that was my intent.  i started this blog to just keep my own personal record of bella's story.  i realized soon after, it wasn't mine to keep to myself.  i started to share it with just a few friends and family members and then finally relinquished it.  it wasn't mine to keep.   my prayer is that some of you were blessed by bella's journey.  my prayer is that some of you were encouraged.  even that some of you were motivated.  

there is this little sign in the stairwell going down to our basement.  it reads:  "home is where your story begins."  in some ways bella's story began when a young woman gave birth to her 2 and 1/2 years ago.  in some ways her story began when she was found in a hospital stairwell 2 years ago.  in some ways her story began when she received a life-saving surgery last july. and in some ways her story began when she came home to her forever family.  we are not sure exactly what we should call "the beginning"....we only know it has, indeed, begun...and with every beat of our own hearts we are thankful.  so very thankful.

"arise, shine, for your light has come,

and the glory of the Lord rises upon you...

your sons come from afar,

and your daughters are carried on the arm.

then you will look and be radiant,

your heart will throb and swell with joy." 

~ isaiah 60:1 and 4, 5

be mine

i held in my hand a tiny sugared heart. "be mine," it read. it is february and every imaginable surface is littered with hearts. pink ones. red ones. tiny ones. frosted ones. as i clutched this candy in my fist i could think only of one broken heart. the broken heart of baby zuzu in china. we grow closer to her each day.  we have been told our dossier is just about ready to head to china.  we thought it might be there by early january...but we seem to be regularly at least a month behind all of our plans.  i guess it is time to just agree we are moving a month or two faster than the system. at times we feel like greedy and impatient children. we want to rush over to guangzhou city china and rescue this little girl and her sick heart. we want her to, "be mine." we want to stamp our feet and clench our fists and demand she, "be ours!" right now. but there is paperwork to finish and approvals to receive and unruly ducks to get in a line. at times we feel out of control and ridiculously unqualified. our four biological children and our four billion commitments pull  us every which way. we are ill equipped and clearly understaffed. somedays we seem to be wrapped only in our fraility and fear, looking to make a mad dash for the door. but we don't. we don't because this is about something more than us. it is even about something more than our love. it is about God's love. and we are reminded at these moments when we want to demand and insist and panic....we are reminded that she's His. before she will ever be ours, she belongs first to Him. this makes all the difference. it is what makes us bold and determined. it is what brings us peace, and on good days, patience. we know baby zuzu belongs to God and He is the one whispering gently in her ear, be mine. He has kindly invited us along on the journey. for that we are grateful and thankful, if not a little frightened. this morning i sit here with this tiny confection heart in my helpless hand. i am comforted knowing God has promised to hold our little girl in the palm of His big and mighty hand. and this february, whether the hearts are candy or chocolate, tiny or large, healthy or broken, i hear the soft and reassuring whisper of His voice, she's mine.

the binder of broken hearts

a friend called today to offer encouragement and to give an assignment. "go to God's word, jody. before you listen to anyone else...before you consider even the doctors and their opinions...go to God's word and look up every verse you can find about the heart." 
i wasn't surprised this friend called to offer me this advice...this suggestion.  that very same thought had been rattling around in my own brain for a couple of days... i just hadn't quite found the time to do it. BUT, now with this specific and deliberate phone call...i knew it was time.   
so i sat down this morning with my coffee and my bible. immediately, the word "brokenhearted" sat down with me.  that was where i would begin.  we don't know much about this little girl over in china, but we know she has a broken heart.  "wow, this will be somewhat simple," i thought, "there were only four scripture references listed in my concordance."


psalm 34:18 was encouraging: "the Lord is close to the brokenhearted..." yes, Lord, be close to baby zhang right now. yes. please.


but it was the final passage in isaiah though which struck the chord i needed to hear for this day. consider that Jesus applied these words to Himself....and, what's more,  i know these words apply to how HE loves little zhang:

"He has sent me to BIND UP THE BROKENHEARTED, to

proclaim FREEDOM for the captives and

RELEASE from darkness for the prisoners....

to COMFORT all who mourn,

and PROVIDE for those who grieve...

to BESTOW on them a CROWN OF BEAUTY

instead of ashes,

the OIL OF GLADNESS

instead of mourning,

and a GARMENT OF PRAISE

instead of a spirit of despair...."

~ isaiah 61: 1-3

thank you friend, for that assignment.