May 23, 2016 · 12:14 pm

Eighty: Lessons from a Life Well-Lived

Daddy,

You are turning 80 years old in just a few short days. I find it hard to wrap my mind around this number! 80! Wow! But more than the number, I’ve found myself reflecting so much you and on our relationships, and I’ve been wowed by how blessed I am to have a daddy like you. You have loved and served the Lord with your whole life. As I have entered into my journey of parenthood, I realize even more what an exceptional job you did — because parenting is hard! But if I am able to be the kind of parent that you have been, then I will count it a success!

For your 80th birthday, I thought I’d share 80 of the lessons that I learned from you. I could write for paragraphs on each of these ideas. But that would take a whole book. So I’ll keep it simple. Some of these you have said to me, over and over again, but more of them, you have said with your life, over and over again.

1. It’s all about Jesus. We should strive to represent him in all we do.
2. Be generous. It’s only money.
3. Family comes first, always.
4. Commitments matter. Keep them. From small to large. If you say you’ll do it, then do it.
5. It’s ok to cry. I get my soft heart from Daddy.
6. Surround yourself with people who love the Lord.
7. Be committed to a church body. Don’t be a drifter.
8. Serve in your church.
9. Never be too proud to repent when you’ve made a mistake.
10. Repenting also means living differently henceforth.
11. Tithing to God’s local church is pleasing to him.
12. You don’t need wealth to be happy or to have a good life.

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13. Discipline is an act of love.
14. Integrity. Do what you know is right. Just do it.
15. Serve your family as unto the Lord. Even if it means riding a pink little girl’s bike so that you an all go on a family bike ride together even when you are one bike short.
16. Play with your kids. Rough and tumble or tea party, whatever they like.
17. Be involved in your kids’ lives. Show up to their events. Cheer them on.
18. Kids don’t raise themselves; they need parents, not parents who act like friends.
19. Realize when it’s time to release your kids into more independence.
20. Teach your children right from wrong.
21. Pray. All. The. Time.
22. Practice gratitude, continually.
23. Work at improving in weaknesses; don’t just sit in your sin.
24. Loving what you do is a blessing.
25. Make sacrifices for those you love. Lay your life down for them as Christ did for the church.
26. Pray for and with your children.
27. Pray for and with your spouse.
28. Say “I love you” often.

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29. Show affection.
30. It’s ok to have conflict in a relationship. Stick to your commitment and work through it.
31. Read the Bible daily.
32. Make a joyful noise unto the Lord. Daddy isn’t a great singer, but he always said that didn’t matter. The Bible didn’t ask for great singers to worship; it says, “make a joyful noise unto the Lord.”
33. You never know when or how you’re going to touch someone’s life, so be available.
34. Sometimes all we do is plant a seed in someone’s life. Way down the road, God may do something miraculous with that seed.
35. Always be truthful.
36. Love and serve your spouse faithfully. Make sacrifices for your spouse.
37. Cardigan sweaters are THE way to go!
38. No matter what is going on in life, remember, you are on your way to heaven, so it’s ok.
39. Spending time together as a family is important.
40. Laughter. It’s good stuff.

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41. Enjoy your kids; they grow up really fast.
42. Math jokes “always add up.”
43. 6 is afraid of 7, because 7 “eight” 9.
44. Everyone has a dessert pocket.
45. You are Christ’s ambassador.
46. Lean on your friends during difficult times, and allow them to lean on you during their own trials.
47. Love and enjoy God’s beautiful creation.
48. Stuff is just stuff; don’t make it too important — “you can’t take it with you!”
49. Every single person was uniquely created by God, and he loves and values them all.
50. Find what you are passionate about and spend your life doing it.
51. Honor and respect your elders and authority figures.
52. You get what you pay for, so save up for quality when you’re purchasing something important.
53. Find businesses that you can trust and give them your business loyally.
54. Don’t just get your hair cut, get them all cut!
55. Medicine is another name for ice cream.
56. Peanut butter is the best food on the earth.
57. How to be a teacher. This is the most oversimplified statement I have ever written. Teaching has been his life, and now it is also mine.

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58. How to write incredibly quickly on a blackboard so that your students are scrambling to copy it down before you erase it with your free hand 🙂
59. A love for puzzles — his are numbers, mine are words.
60. “Multiply by the power, decrease the power by one.”
61. Make sure you do maintenance on your car because it’s cheaper than fixing it after it breaks.
62. Take good care of your teeth — you only get one set.
63. Take care of your body. You only get one.
64. Attitude is a choice.
65. Camping can be fun, but be sure to bungee your cooler shut or a coon might make off with your roast in the night.
66. When camping, changing clothes is not necessary.
67. Never go to Camp Run-Amuck.
68. Always go to Colonel Mustard’s Custard.
69. Have as many meals together as a family as you possibly can.
70. Be punctual.
71. Open your home to others — “wear out your furniture for the Lord.”
72. “Can” is about ability, while “may” is about permission. Don’t misuse them.
73. Puns are the best kinds of jokes. Use them frequently.
74. When something is lost, ask God to help you find it, because he knows exactly where it is.
75. Age is just a number. It doesn’t mean you have to grow up.
76. You don’t need to be someone’s parent biologically to speak into their lives or to be a parent figure to them.
77. A smile, a hug, or a kind word can bless someone more than you know.
78. We are blessed with each new day that the Lord gives us to serve him.
79. We should give ourselves to the Lord daily and look for what he is doing in our lives.
80. People and God are the only things that really matter here on this earth, so spend your life loving and serving God and his people.

I love you, Daddy. Thanks for teaching me. Happy Birthday!

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May 14, 2016 · 2:04 pm

4 Ways Apraxia has Changed Me

apraxia awarenessToday is Childhood Apraxia of Speech Awareness Day. This speech disorder is one that has touched our family deeply, so awareness of it is close to my heart. Childhood Apraxia of Speech (CAS) is a developmental disorder in which the brain fails to naturally control the muscles necessary for speech. A child without CAS will develop speech with ease and through a typical process, i.e., certain sounds emerge at certain ages or in a certain progression. For a child with CAS, developing speech is hard work with lots of practice, and certain sounds may come with even more difficulty than others. CAS does not mean that the affected child cannot understand words. Nor does it mean the child is intellectually challenged. It simply means that the motor planning portion of the brain is not functioning effectively to produce speech, and so more work is required for speech to be learned.

sophie purseOur daughter Sophie was diagnosed with this speech disorder shortly after her third birthday. She had no words and was unable to imitate even the simplest of sounds. We lived through three and a half silent years with Sophie before her speech began to slowly and painstakingly emerge. Now she is four years and three months old, and she is well on her way to functional speech. Through the silent years and the process of learning speech, our lives have been changed in many ways. I’ll share just a few of our experiences in hopes that they will help in raising awareness of this disorder that touches the lives of so many families.

Apraxia has caused me to reevaluate how I assign value to others. For the first three and a half years of her life, Sophie was unable to express to us anything that was going on inside her mind. So much of who she was remained hidden. But oh, how we loved her. Simply because she was. I came to a point where it didn’t matter to me whether or not she learned to speak. I wanted her to be able to speak because I knew the way it would shape her life not to be able speak. But I never for a moment considered her value as more or less based upon her ability to communicate verbally. I poured into her regardless of what evident gains I might see. For so long, there were literally no gains in speech, but still we poured, still we invested, simply because she was. Our journey through the silent years has helped me to open my heart and look on others as persons of dignity and value, regardless of their differences. I am no longer uncomfortable engaging individuals with differences of any kind. I see them as beautiful creations with undeniable value, simply because they are. In addition, I have been made so much more aware that every person (EVERY PERSON) has a back story that I cannot see. There is no room for judgment.

Apraxia has shown me the goodness in others. One of my greatest concerns with having a child with special needs is that Sophie would somehow be considered less by others, that she would be sidelined, less loved. Nothing could be further from the truth in Sophie’s life. Even though she began this school year with essentially no verbal abilities, she made two new best friends almost immediately. They wanted to learn to talk with their hands so that they could communicate with Sophie. More so, her entire class treats her with kindness and is protective of her. Her teacher tells me that Sophie is literally the most popular child in her class. Beyond the school setting, Sophie and our family are so loved and cared for by our family and our church community. When Sophie was diagnosed with CAS and we knew that we had years of expensive speech therapy ahead of us, our community banded together to raise money to help pay for Sophie’s speech. Tremendous goodness. Although I know many children with CAS suffer at the hands of bullies, God has thus far spared us from these experiences. It is my prayer that in raising awareness of CAS that families will be better equipped to educate their children and help them open their minds to acceptance, regardless of abilities or differences.

sophie_on_rockApraxia has allowed me to glimpse miracles. When life follows an ordinary course, miracles are harder to see (though I firmly believe they ARE there). When life is full of difficult or even impossible circumstances, success feels miraculous. Each time Sophie gains a new sound or expresses new thoughts and feelings, I feel like I am seeing a miracle. To hear her say “mommy” for the first time, there are no words to describe how that felt. To actually hear her asking for hugs or kisses, or saying that she misses me, it melts my heart every single time. For so long she could not say these things. Given the challenges that apraxia can present, I consider it miraculous that Sophie has gone from no words at all to speaking constantly in short sentences in less than a year. While she still struggles to correctly articulate many sounds, making her barely understandable to some, she is constantly trying to talk and making great gains. Because of her struggles, nothing about Sophie ever feels ordinary, and each moment feels miraculous.

Apraxia has challenged me to see obstacles as opportunities. Because of apraxia, we have met many people who have poured into our daughter’s life, and into ours by extension. Because of apraxia, we have seen the generosity of those whom we do life with. Because of apraxia we had the opportunity to learn American Sign Language. Because of apraxia, Sophie is able to attend preschool and work with wonderful teachers and therapists. Because of apraxia, I furthered my pursuit of writing. Because of apraxia, we have banded together as a family. We have faced this challenge head on. We have worked hard. We have fought for our daughter. We have loved fiercely. Because of apraxia, I have been driven deeper into my faith, closer to the God who loves me. Because of apraxia, we are all changed, every one of us who know and love Sophie. This obstacle has become our opportunity to rise above, to fight hard, to grow, to deepen our faith.

Apraxia is just one of our challenges in this season of life. I don’t know what your obstacles may be today. I don’t know what challenges you face as a parent, as a person, as a friend, a child, or a spouse. But I do know that if you choose him, God will use those challenges to shape your life. Yes, I want you to be aware of Childhood Apraxia of Speech, but more so, I want you to be aware of a God who loves you and who wants what is best for you and for your family, no matter how big your obstacles seem or how challenging your trials are. We don’t mourn our difficulties with Sophie because they have made us who we are today, and I firmly believe that we are better for it.

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May 11, 2016 · 1:16 am

The Truth About our Trials: Learning Obedience

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There’s nothing quite so devastating as feeling like you are giving your all to the Lord, following him, trusting him, serving him, only to feel like he’s snatching away your happiness and asking you to move in a direction you would never have chosen for yourself. Trials feel that way, whether it’s an unexpected diagnosis, the end of a relationship, the loss of a job, the passing of a loved one, an unforeseen bend in the path of life. These trials set us reeling, our hearts bleed.

If I’m being honest, which I like to do here in my “candid” writing, as many folks call it, this was definitely one of the biggest contributors to the hardness of my heart, to my missing heartbeat. I have felt like I have been faithful to the Lord, and he has asked me to lay down my desires and walk a completely different path than the one I wanted to choose. As if our good works entitle us to anything… I have grappled with acceptance for many months now. And I’m not sure I’m there yet. May was to be the month that we would begin trying for our third child, but with all that has unfolded with my health, and with the many unanswered questions we have, that dream is on hold, perhaps indefinitely. It has been heartbreaking to lay down that dream and continue trusting in God’s goodness. I have known from the moment I had my final neurology appointment that this was going to be an exercise in obedience.

As I have pleaded with the Lord and fought a deep discouragement in my heart, particularly in my ministry of writing, I started feeling a gentle nudge in my soul to kneel before the Lord in worship. This is more than a little outside of my wheelhouse for a typical Sunday morning. My heart, I am sad to say, was too prideful to kneel before my Maker. It is literally painful to write that. What’s more painful to expose is that I continued to feel that nudge, week after week, and I brushed it aside. In hindsight, I think this small choice is perhaps the largest reason that the Lord has allowed so many trials to persist for so many months. It’s been the breaking of Catherine Burleigh. My heart needed to be humbled to the point that I was willing to kneel, to relinquish my own desires and dreams to his will and his desires for my life. I have fought this for many months.

My heart broke the week before my knee did, but the process felt like one fell swoop. I cried out to the Lord, “Do. Whatever. It. Takes. I can’t live like this. I will take your path.” Once I chose obedience, once I began the attempt to accept what he has for me, my heart turned toward him and his words began to flood my heart again. He reminded me that in him there is always hope. His plans are good. He fulfills the desires of my heart. Life may look different than I have planned, but his goodness will never fail. It was the beginning of a heartbeat.

In some ways, I still feel like I am in the breaking process. My will still contends with his; I still battle to daily choose his path over mine. There is still a part of my heart that is fiercely clinging to my own dreams. Through everything we’ve experienced with Sophie, I have learned that acceptance is a process. It’s not something that happens overnight. And I can only trust that the Lord will be patient with me, continue to speak to me, as I wrestle with all this. I am thankful for his kindness, his gentleness, his grace, as I walk through yet another path of acceptance in my life. Some days are easy; I feel content with life as it is, and I’m ready to move forward with what’s next. Other days I spend fighting the tears moment by moment. But my heart is set on obedience.

I realize that our own obedience is not a magical chant or spell that we can use to obtain what we desire. That’s not the point. God is my Master, and he deserves my obedience for that alone. Obedience acknowledges his wisdom and that his plan is far superior to my own. Neither is disobedience necessarily the root of all hardheartedness, of all our heartbreak, of all our trials. But for me, it was a contributing factor. And I suspect if we all look closely, we may see areas where God has been nudging us, but we’ve been too stubborn to take the steps he’s asking us to take. He will wait. He will continue to refine us until we are ready. It has taken me a long time to act in obedience, far too long, I must admit. But the results are breathtaking.

My heart is starting to beat again. There is still pain from the trials we have walked, still walk. There are still dreams that I don’t want to die. But there is peace. And a heartbeat. A blessed heartbeat.

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April 24, 2016 · 6:34 pm

The Truth about our Trials: Refiner’s Fire

crucible

As I’ve been processing this difficult place in life where God seems silent, mountains seem immovable, and the course is challenging, God has brought back to my mind the words of Psalm 66:10-12.

“For you, O God, tested us;
You refined us like silver.
You brought us into prison
and laid burdens on our backs.
You let men ride over our heads;
we went through fire and water,
but you brought us to a place of abundance.” (emphasis added)

I shared these verses with my husband as we talked about the mire we feel like we’re struggling to walk through in life right now. Even though our literal circumstances may differ from his, the Psalmist certainly hits on how we feel in our trials — imprisoned, carrying heavy burdens, trampled upon, enslaved, surrounded by intensity, treading through deep water. Yeah, I’d say that about sums it up.

This Psalm speaks of the Refiner’s fire, so I did some searching on the process for refining precious metals in order to increase my understanding. I was blown away by the parallels. I’ll share just a few from what I learned.

Step 1: Breaking — The refiner had to break apart the natural ore, which is the chunk of all the metals mixed together, containing the silver. If the ore wasn’t broken, the refiner would not be able to see inside to what precious metals were contained. And he would never be able to remove the lesser metals and refine the precious metals into their desirable pure form.

Maybe in my brokenness, God is looking inside of me to see what beautiful qualities he wants to bring to the front of my person. Breaking is necessary in the refinement process. It must happen. If God wants to refine me, then he must first allow me to be broken. But he always has the greater good in sight. He won’t allow me to be broken simply for the sake of breaking. The breaking is for a greater purpose.

Step 2: The Crucible — The refiner would then place the chunk of ore into a fireproof melting pot called a crucible. This crucible was placed inside a fiery furnace where the ore would begin to melt so that the impurities could be removed. As the ore heated within the crucible in the fiery furnace, a layer called the dross rose to the top; these were the imperfections that the refiner was trying to remove.

I can definitely identify with the image of life being one giant fire-cooker. It’s too much; it’s too intense. But the heat is needed. Without it, the impurities can’t come to the surface in order for the Refiner to remove them. And isn’t that the truth… Nothing makes our true colors show like a little bit of heat and pressure. I see God looking down at me as my impurities surface left and right, saying, “Aha, yes, there it is. Let me just get that out of you.” As the heat of suffering increases, God has more and more opportunity to remove the lesser qualities that I possess.

Step 3: The Purification — After the refiner scraped off the layer of dross, get this, guys, he put the ore back into the fiery furnace again! And he raised the heat! Because new layers of dross arose each time the ore was heated to certain temperatures. More and more impurities came to the surface and the refiner could remove them. Over this process, he gradually purified the ore until he had only the precious metal that he desired. History tells us that refiners could put the ore back in the furnace up to seven times to complete the purification.

Some days, some seasons, I feel like I’ve had all the fiery furnace I can take. And the heat just pours on anyways. I have shaken my figurative fists and cried out “Enough! It’s enough!” I’ve probably done it literally too. I feel like I’ve had all I can take, and then God allows more trials to pour into my life, raising the heat a few more degrees. It’s the refiner’s fire. He puts me right back into that fiery furnace and turns the heat up even more, because he wants those impurities out.

Step 4: The Reflection — I love this part. Do you know what the refiner was looking for as he removed each layer of dross and surveyed the molten metal inside the crucible? He was looking for his reflection. Once he could see his reflection in the pool of melted metal, he knew that the purification was complete.

Our Refiner is looking for his reflection, too. He is purifying us so that he might see his reflection more clearly in our hearts and lives. Our trials give us an opportunity, if we choose to accept it, to grow in the qualities which reflect God’s heart. They give us an opportunity to have more of our impurities removed so that we look more like Jesus.

(Steps in the refining process from hopefortheheart.org)

Understanding what the Psalmist was referring to in those few words about the refiner helped me take a completely new look at my trials. Yes, they are hard. Yes, they are burdensome. But they are not without purpose. They are not wasted. Perhaps I have forgotten in this season of life that I serve a God who wastes nothing. One of my favorite components of the miraculous feeding of the 5,000 in the gospels is that after the supper Jesus instructs his disciples “Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted” (John 6:12).

Let nothing be wasted. Jesus wastes nothing. No one. No trial. No broken heart. No burden. Nothing. It is all useful to him.

In addition, the final promise of this Psalm also restores my hope. Although the people of Israel went through many trials, the Psalmist remembers of the Lord, “you brought us to a place of abundance.” A place of abundance. All that Israel went through, which was so, so terrible, ended with a fulfillment of God’s promise, a place of abundance. Although my life has felt like the crucible for God’s refinement lately, I know that he is bringing me to a place of abundance. I know that my God keeps his promises. And I pray with all my heart that he will see his reflection as he gazes into my heart and into my life, not just so that I can get out of this hot hole, but because I want him to be pleased with me. If I can look more like Jesus because of all this fire in my life, then it’s all worth it. I can’t waste that opportunity in anger and depression and fear and worry. That’s not the purpose for my trials. I can’t sit in that if I want to look more like Jesus.

I want to say that it’s time for me to get up and do something about myself, but the other truly beautiful part of the refining process is that the metal does nothing but sit there, while the refiner scrapes off the dross. So I will sit here, and I will open my heart to my Refiner, and I will ask him to remove that dross. I want a heart beat again.

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April 18, 2016 · 7:06 pm

The Truth about our Trials: It’s Beyond Me

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Have you ever asked God to explain himself? Have you ever moved through a period of life, pleading with him for answers, only to hear silence? I’ve been in this difficult season for several months now. Yes, we’ve been physically ill most of the past eight weeks. Yes, my husband has just finished an overseas trip for a job he’s had some difficulties with, and he travels to another country in just two weeks for another trip. Yeah, we’ve had financial stressors and upsetting physical diagnoses. Yeah, circumstances have been crappy. But that’s not been my biggest issue.

My biggest issue has been this heart inside of me that feels like a stone.

Because when God doesn’t change things that it seems he could change, my heart hurts, I feel betrayed. I don’t understand why he hasn’t moved the mountains, parted the seas, given the opportunities and the answers we’ve sought. He can do anything. But he hasn’t.

In my heart of hearts, I’ve continued to wait and to trust. Because I know that he’s good. I know that he’s faithful. But discouragement sneaks in as the tough stuff continues to roll in, month in and month out. Eventually, it’s become easier just not to feel rather than to feel hurt and discouraged. It’s become easier to go through the motions, pushing myself on physically to meet the demands of life, even though my heart feels hard. I reached this point a couple of weeks ago. It’s that point where your soul is completely desperate for something, anything, any small change, a whisper of a word from the Lord.

The whisper began in a conversation that I shared with my husband just before he left on his work trip.

“I hate how hard these trips are on you and the kids,” Andrew said.

“I know, but we will be alright,” I replied.

“How can a father do that to his kids? They don’t understand,” he countered.

“There are many fathers who do far worse things to their kids,” I offered.

“True, but that doesn’t make it right,” he persisted.

“No, but it doesn’t make it wrong either. You are doing what you have to do. Your job requires you to travel. You are not making a conscious choice to abandon your family for frivolous or selfish reasons. This is what you have to do and there’s no way around it,” I replied.

“I know, but they don’t understand that. They can’t understand why daddy is hurting them,” he said.

“It’s true, but that still doesn’t make it wrong for you to go. No amount of explaining would help their little minds to understand why Daddy is doing what he’s doing. They can’t see the big picture. It’s simply above their understanding.”

It’s simply above their understanding. (Did you see that light go on?)

How many things are simply above my understanding? The Bible teaches in many places that God’s thoughts are higher than our thoughts (Is 55:8-9), and that no one can understand the mind of the Lord (Rom 11:34 ), nor fathom his understanding (Is 40:28).

My stoney heart has railed against the Lord, anger rising up that he’s not moving, that he’s not enlightening me, that he’s not explaining himself. But God has not answered with explanations, for he owes me NO explanations. Instead, my soul hears a gentle answer, perhaps the best and only answer that I can fully understand: Because I love you. What an unexpected answer to my angry tirade of WHY this, and WHY that… Because I love you.

After all, it is because he loves us that my husband is faithful to his job, including the travel it requires. He is about the business of providing for his family, even if this aspect of his provision is painful and strains us to the breaking point some days.

In the same way that my children must trust that their daddy still loves them and is only doing what he knows he must do, which is ultimately for our benefit (we like food and clothing!), I must trust that my Father loves me and is doing what he knows is best, that which is truly for my benefit, and more so, for his glory. There may be aspects of God’s plan that are painful and strain us to the breaking point. But he is the Father; he sees the big picture; it may simply be beyond our understanding. But trust is not above our understanding, nor is his love for us. Even in the midst of trials, my heart has softened to hear those words, Because I love you…

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March 30, 2016 · 6:20 pm

Lead Me to the Cross

crossWe’ve been in a season recently of mountains not moved, waters not parted, prayers not answered. I know that sounds kind of negative, but it’s real life. It’s how we feel. We would have liked to have been spared so much illness this winter. We would have liked to hear that I did not have a stroke for real. We would have liked things to go better with issues at my husband’s job. We would have liked for our extended family members not to deal with difficult health problems. I’ve asked; I’ve pleaded; I’ve prayed. But the no’s have kept on comin’.

Hidden away in my house full of sickness, it was easy for me to get inside my own head, to feel sorry for myself. My isolation has allowed the enemy a lot of room to whisper lies to me, and, unfortunately, I’ve allowed it. Invisible. Unimportant. Dispensable. Overlooked. Failure. Sad, sad, sad.

But here comes Easter, and all I can think about is the cross.

Particularly as Good Friday came and went, my mind dwelt on how final the cross must have seemed to Jesus’ followers. Talk about a sea not parted! Jesus’ followers were anticipating him entering Jerusalem to overthrow the government, to become the king. Instead, he was crucified. To say it felt like a loss is, I’m sure, an extreme understatement.

But then came Sunday, the resurrection. Even as the disciples found Jesus’ tomb empty and saw his resurrected body, I wonder if they fully understood the implications of what had happened. What appeared to be the darkest hour was actually the working out of our salvation. When things looked worst, God was actually going about saving the world. It’s astounding! And it brings perspective. Maybe in these dark moments, God is about the business of saving my soul.

One of my all-time favorite worship songs is “Lead Me to the Cross” because it fixes my mind’s eye back on that cross, even when we’re not in the Easter season. It reminds me that all those sad, sad feelings I so often give in to, they’re not where I’m meant to live. Instead my heart beats: “Lead me to the cross, where your love poured out. Bring me to my knees, Lord, I lay me down. Rid me of myself, I belong to you.”

Bring me to my knees … Rid me of myself, I belong to you. None of this is about me. It’s about God, his kingdom, his glory, his plan. Compared to the cross, my darker moments seem like nothing. Because of the cross, my darker moments are actually nothing. In truth, because of what Jesus did, my soul is secure, and nothing that happens on this earth can change that.

One of my former students, Caity, who passed away at just 17 years old had a favorite quote that went like this: “It will all be ok in the end. If it’s not ok, then it’s not the end.” She was wise beyond her years. And she was so right. Life is pretty messed up sometimes, but that doesn’t change our ending. And when it is truly the end, it will truly all be ok. I have thought about that quote so many times since her passing nearly 5 years ago, and like “Lead Me to the Cross,” it restores my perspective. Everything on this earth is temporary. There’s another kingdom that I’m living for. And it’s all because of the cross. I’m so thankful this Easter for the truth that puts it all in perspective, that kicks me out of my sad, sad sorry place, and reminds me of the end, my hope, my future.

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March 8, 2016 · 7:29 pm

In Search of the Brighter Side

crocusIt’s been a rough season for us in the Burleigh house. We’ve battled months of illness, from my vertigo in the fall, to ear infections, viral throat infections, rib splitting coughs, fevers, vomit, you name it…  Some of the worst bugs we’ve weathered as a little family. On top of that, my husband has weathered difficulties in his job, and my parents have faced difficult health questions and diagnoses. And, then there’s my whole health saga. Recently, I received the results of my final MRI — I did indeed have a stroke; and there are no answers which yield any certainty. It was possibly caused by this, but may also have been caused by that, or it could be something else entirely. There’s absolutely no certainty.

After months and months of all these trials, I find myself fixing dinner, my mind racing, searching for the bright side. There always is one, right? Where is that darn bright side? I know it’s there somewhere. But where, in all of this, is it? In the middle of the vomit, the wild two year old tantrums, the hair pulling, the vertigo, the ear infections, the stroke… where are you, bright side?

I’ve recently been working on a Sunday school lesson on the sovereignty and the goodness of God. My premise is that God is both totally sovereign and totally good (a long ago lesson from the Jerry King days — Thank you, Jerry!). It’s daring to believe. Because it means that in the midst of vomit and ear infections, job changes, and strokes, God is absolutely in control, and even though that stuff feels junky, he’s still good. I’ve come to realize through this winter of many trials that I cannot allow the fallenness and brokenness of our world color my view of God. I must begin with the firm believe that he is good, and I must use that unwavering belief as a lens through which I see everything else.

If I look at life through the lens of our fallen world, I will see a broken God.

And that’s not the truth at all. The depravity of our world and of the human condition does not have any baring on God’s goodness. Instead, I stand firm in the belief that he is good, and I use that knowledge to process all the junk I encounter.

If God is good, then how should I interpret the reality of my fallen world? Personally, I choose to believe that, even when it doesn’t appear to be so, God ALWAYS has my very best interest in mind, and he is working for the greater good of HIS kingdom. You see, this world, this life, really isn’t about me and my happiness, my health, my comfort, my anything. It’s about him and his glory. And so if I have to go through some “light and momentary trials” I can trust fully that they will not compare to the “eternal glory that far outweighs them all” (2 Cor 4:17). It stinks to have poopy seasons in life where everything just seems wrong, hard, bad, gross, day after day. It has worn on me these past few months. The final MRI was just the icing on the cake.

But, I have pinned down that elusive bright side in this: Rather than perceiving life through the lens of my broken circumstances, I must see my broken circumstances through the lens of God’s goodness.

Rather than focusing on all that’s wrong with my world (which is just depressing) I can choose to focus on a good and loving God who is truly working for my good, according to the purpose for which he has called me. So, no matter how dark the circumstances may look, the bright side remains in my good and loving Father God. And I find that once I turn my focus to him instead of on all the junk, my problems become much smaller, much less significant, much less depressing. What we have gone through in these last six months is nothing compared to what others have endured. And it all dims as I fix my mind on the fact that my good Father loves me. That is more than enough for me.

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February 26, 2016 · 8:13 pm

Sophie’s Story: The God who Sees Me

“For nothing shall be impossible with God.” Luke 1:37

I received an unexpected phone call yesterday from Sophie’s developmental pediatrician’s office. A kind nurse, Joann, was calling to inform me of the results of Sophie’s recent developmental screening that we completed at home. I wasn’t expecting a phone call with the results; I was expecting to discuss her developmental status at her next appointment in the spring. I’d been caught unprepared, my heart not guarded. There’s a good bit of shoring up emotionally that I tend to do before these types of conversations. Immediately, my heart began to race. Mentally, I began to brace for another difficult conversation.

To my shock and awe, it was not a difficult conversation that followed. Hold on to your hats!! Sophie scored just slightly below the average for a typically developing child of her age. “Say what?!  What does that mean?” I asked the nurse. She explained: All the typically developing children in her group would be in one of three categories — average, above average, or below average. Those who fall below the “below average” group are considered developmentally delayed. Since she was four months old, Sophie has been labeled as developmentally delayed. She has scored outside the typical range for development in her age group. For four years we’ve carried that label. Four years.

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At just four months old, Sophie was diagnosed with developmental delays.

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My big four-year-old blew out her candles for the first time!

I can’t even begin to express my joy over this phone call! As a teacher, I’ve honestly never understood the parents and students who were pleased that their child received a D rather than an F. But now I totally get it. For the first time in perhaps her entire sweet life, Sophie is falling within the range of typical development for a child her age, just slightly below the average child. I recognize that there are still many areas where she is behind. But — I. Will. Take. It.

I’ve spent much of the past year accepting the reality that Sophie might always be considered developmentally delayed. I don’t like to live in the future, but there is wisdom in preparing the heart and mind for realistic possibilities. The hope of “catching up” any time soon was long since left in the dust. But here we are. Very close to being caught up. Wow. It feels good. Whatever genetic mix-up Sophie carries, its affect is mild.

The timing of this phone call was, as per usual for me, too precise to be coincidental. Right before I received this call, I had just shared on social media a favorite verse of mine found in Genesis 16:13: “She gave this name to the Lord who spoke to her: ‘You are the God who sees me,’ for she said, ‘I have now seen the One who sees me.’” Hagar, Sarai’s maidservant who conceived a son, Ishmael, with Abram, Sarai’s husband, gave God this name. She was running and hiding because her life was a mess. But because God saw her, she was able to lift her chin, return to her mess, and even receive God’s blessing.

Whenever I have felt overwhelmed, I have prayed this prayer, that I would know I am seen by God. There’s just something about being seen, being noticed, by the God of the universe. He always answers, without fail, in a way that I just can’t overlook or write off, like a surprisingly good phone call from a doctor’s office.

Dear God, you do see me. I don’t deserve it, but I am thankful.

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February 13, 2016 · 7:21 pm

Celebrating Sophie

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Sweet Sophie, just a few hours old

My sweet Sophie girl is turning four years old today. I’m so blessed to be her mama. What an honor. I’m always amazed as her birthday draws near each year by how much she has changed since her last birthday. Each year, I find that I reflect on what the last year has held as she prepares to enter a new year. And of course, I consider how quickly time is passing, and how much further she will progress in this next year. (Dear Lord, PLEASE let that include potty training!!!!)

The better part of Sophie’s past year was characterized by frustration. Her inability to verbalize her thoughts, feelings, wants, and needs severely cramped her style. This was especially exacerbated by her brother’s ability to speak, which emerged at his tender age of 9 months (right around the time Sophie turned 3). My sweet easy-going, good humored, smiley little girl was largely absent this past year.

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Sophie signs “love you”

When Sophie was turning 3, she knew only basic signs. We had not yet started teaching her American Sign Language. She had no words at all, only some spontaneous babble that really didn’t mean anything. In March, when she was just three years and one month old, we began to inundate our world with American Sign Language. Within a month, Sophie was signing upwards of 60 signs. By summer, she was signing well over 100 signs. I will never forget the moment she initiated her first signs to me (as opposed to just responding to me), signing “I love you.” When she finally had the ability to tell me something, to express her own thoughts, that was what she needed to say. There are simply no words to express how I feel in my heart about this.

Sophie began preschool shortly after she turned three, to continue state-funded speech therapy, and for exposure to children her own age using words to communicate, in hopes that this would aid her own language development. She remained silent. When school came to a  close, we pursued private speech therapy to fill the gap in school therapy over the summer.

This was when the magic began to happen.

Immediately, Sophie was diagnosed with severe apraxia of speech. Slowly, painstakingly, with great effort, and much practice, she gained the ability to intentionally imitate single sounds — ma, da, ba, pa. From there, she slowly began to put sounds together. By fall at 3 1/2 years old, after 5 months of therapy, she had about 20 basic words like mama, dada, bubba, bye-bye, more, go, etc. We worked so hard for those words.

Click here to see a video of Sophie’s speech progress this past fall, just five months ago: sophie_speaks_fall15

I cannot watch this video without a flood of emotions and tears, lots of tears, seeing how far she’s come in five months.

As winter approached, quite suddenly, Sophie began to try any and all words. In spite of her continued struggle with apraxia which dramatically affects her pronunciation, her speech light bulb has turned on. We are overjoyed! She is now about 75% intelligible to those who speak with her daily, and probably 25% intelligible to the outside world. But, what a huge difference from our silent Sophie of one year ago! You can see Sophie’s current speech progress here, as she reads her favorite book “Newton” with me: sophie_reads_newton

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Sophie enjoyed Dora cupcakes with her class to celebrate turning four

As a four year old, Sophie now has hundreds of words and signs. She can count to twenty and knows all of her letters, shapes, and colors. She knows emotions such as happy, sad, scared, and frustrated. She can name all household objects, foods, familiar people and toys. She runs around her environment naming things simply because she CAN! She still has moments of frustration, but I would not characterize her days by this trait any longer. Now she just seems happy.

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Sophie at five months old

As we close her 3s and begin her 4s, we see a completely different child. It’s almost like we’ve gone back to the child that we started with, actually. Sophie has always been easy going, sweet as a peach, and of good humor with lots of smiles. As a three year old, that demeanor was largely absent. Her frustration over her lack of speech trumped everything, causing so much frustration, many tantrums, and few smiles. But now that she’s speaking, my sweet peach is emerging once again.

Sophie enjoys life. She spins around in circles until she’s too dizzy to stand, giggling all the while. She loves to be tickled. She loves to cuddle and to read books. She eagerly enters her classroom each morning, excited to greet her friends and play.

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Sophie insisted on wearing her “cape” over her party dress on her fourth birthday

We have learned more as a family and as followers of Christ than I could ever explain here in the silent years, and we continue to learn now that Sophie is verbalizing. Most of all, we are aware of how awesome our God is as we have watched him do beautiful, miraculous things in Sophie’s life. When she was diagnosed with developmental delays at just four months old, our future, her future, held so much uncertainty. But God has met us at each and every moment; he’s carried us through many of those moments. He’s shown us over and over that nothing is too difficult for him. He is Sophie’s creator, and he is doing beautiful things with her life.

As Sophie turns four today, I pray that Jesus will grant her a year filled with his joy as she continues to learn to express herself verbally. And most of all, may her words ever glorify his goodness.

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February 4, 2016 · 7:26 pm

At the Crossroads

at_the_crossroadHave you ever found yourself at a crossroad in life? Here you are, looking down your path, envisioning your hopes, your dreams, your plans. But suddenly you are stopped. There’s a crossroads. And the road that God seems to be indicating for you to take is the one going in the other direction from where all your hopes, dreams and plans lie.

These moments can take your breath away, as you feel your dreams turning to ashes. Feelings run the gamut from anger to fear to grief to a deep, deep sadness. This is not what I expected. It’s not what I hoped for. It’s not what I envisioned for my life.

Crossroads come in many forms in life: A financial crisis, a failed marriage, a tragic loss, a difficult diagnosis, a job loss, a broken friendship. Sometimes we see it coming, but sometimes, it hits us out of nowhere and leaves us panting, bruised, bleeding, shocked.

Many have followed the sage of my health issues since fall of 2015. I suffered months of vertigo, experienced hearing loss, and was diagnosed as a stroke victim. It was all rather alarming, to say the least. I feel way too young and way too healthy to be having so many health problems. Plus, I’ve got enough going on with all of Sophie’s trials — I don’t need trials of my own! Right? So, over the past six months I have undergone a plethora of tests, all seeking a source for this vertigo, hearing loss, stroke. There have been no answers. Nothing has come up anywhere.

In what I thought would be my final neurology appointment last week, I began posing the difficult questions in my heart. If we can’t determine anything else that caused this stroke, then it’s likely it happened because of one of my pregnancies? Which pregnancy? What caused it? Would I be likely to stroke again in another pregnancy? What are the statistics on that? Could it be a worse stroke? With true compassion, my neurologist told me that my questions were likely unanswerable, but that yes, my likelihood of stroking again in a future pregnancy was increased because of the past stroke, and that yes, strokes are unpredictable demons that can be completely life-altering. A risk of stroke is not to be trifled with.

Why is this a crossroads? you ask. Because I wasn’t totally sure that I was finished having children. I love my two blessings immensely. I will never take for granted the gifts that I have been given in them. But it’s like I said before, we’ve all pictured life a certain way, only to realize that maybe it’s not going to look that way. Maybe. I haven’t gotten any further than maybe yet. I’m allowing myself time to process, to grieve, to pray, to consider. My neurologist has ordered one final MRI to ensure that nothing about my imaging has changed. It’s his hail mary at finding out anything at all that can help me in this difficult decision. Perhaps what showed on the first scan was what’s known as an artifact — it’s not actually there, but the MRI machine makes a mistake. (I can’t even think about the irony…) Or, perhaps it has changed some and this gives us a new direction to look. Or, it may be the same, and my questions will go unanswered. Maybe. So, I’ll stand a while longer at this crossroads. I’ll ponder. I’ll pray.

But in these moments, at life’s crossroads, I have one reassurance: He’s a good, good Father.

Even if God’s path for my life is not what I envisioned, I can walk forward into his path, knowing that he is good. Yes, I may need time to grieve the losses of things that I never actually had, but dreamed about and planned on. I need to go through the process of surrendering those things to God. Perhaps in walking on his path, he has other good things in store for me. Or perhaps his path saves me from unimaginable pain. Perhaps his path will indeed hold the very things that I must now surrender to him. I can’t know; I can’t predict the future. But I can choose. Even though I can’t see what his path for me may hold, I can choose it in full confidence because of his goodness.

I made this choice with Sophie when her life began to unfold in a completely different fashion than I expected, and I make it again with my own future. I want to be on God’s path, because ultimately, I know that on my own I lack the wisdom to choose the best path for myself. If I planned out my future, I would undoubtedly mess something up, badly. Even in walking in God’s plan for me, I may still mess things up. But I want my heart to be pointed in the right direction, my feet to be on his path.

Can we just take a minute to say “yes” to Jesus, even if everything in life looks terribly wrong? Can we just acknowledge that he’s in control AND he’s good? Though my emotions all over the place, with my heart, my mind, and my will, I choose God’s path; I choose his plan. There is sadness in letting go of my own plan, but there is peace in knowing I’m choosing the plan crafted by the only wise God who is indeed a good, good Father.

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