Almost there...

I'm afraid to even write this because I don't want to jinx it: we could be going home tomorrow or Friday. Emily has been taking all of her feeds through bottle for almost 48 hours now. She has just a few more to go. They even took her feeding tube out today. Atta girl!

Pray for our girl tonight! I'm optimistic that she'll make it. She's a strong little thing, holding her head up, looking all around with her big blue eyes. She's come a long ways and is as tough as they come (well, unless she's gassy. Then she's a little dramatic).

If how you've fared in your first two weeks of life is any indication of your future, Emily Ann, then it's a big one.

I can't wait to say PEACE OUT, NICU!

Consistency and progress

If you ever find yourself in the NICU, you need to know one thing: the nurses run this joint. On Saturday, our nurse Lindsay made some things HAPPEN. That day we got an entirely new team of doctors for both cardiology and the NICU which really means we started over at square one. Ugh. Lindsay overheard some conversations we had with these teams, pushed for all these different teams of doctors to meet together daily, and hinted that she'd get the social worker involved if they didn't pull their act together. Now we have one visit of rounds instead of three. Fifteen doctors shuffle in to our tiny room and talk ALL AT ONCE about Emily. Before, I was passing messages between the teams and felt like I was the only one on top of Emily's plan. Now, I actually feel like they're steering the ship. Lindsay, seriously. You saved us.

Last Friday, we found out that Emily also has a significant leaky valve, which is not associated with her heart defect. It may or may not get fixed at her open heart surgery. If it's able to be managed, it sounds like they prefer to wait until kids are fully grown before considering surgery. Ok, now have we found all the heart anomalies?

Over the weekend, I wrote two blog posts and didn't publish them because they were not exactly uplifting. The NICU is tough, people. The doctors start to trickle in around 8 and don't stop until late afternoon. This makes catching up on sleep a joke. Last night the nurse didn't wake me for her 3:30 bottle, so I got to sleep for 4.5 hours straight. I wanted to hug her. I can tell what nurses are also mothers. They understand the grind of waking every 3 hours around the clock to bottle and pump.

Things have been looking more positive the past day or so. Emily is on two doses of lasix a day, and the benefits are showing up - she is finishing more bottles! Yesterday 65% of her total daily intake was by bottle. Our ticket out of here is two straight days with no tube feeding. She's gotta do it all.

Tomorrow marks two weeks in the NICU. Whew. I keep telling myself we won't be here forever even though sometimes it feels like we'll never get home.

In the meantime, Jared and I have been belly laughing a lot at the stupidest things. Maybe it's because of your prayers. Or maybe it's because he threw out his back and took a couple painkillers.

Yeah. Might be that.

The long haul

It's not looking like they'll release us anytime soon. I've accepted this fact by asking my mom to bring me actual bath towels and more yoga pants. I set a personal record: I wore the same pair for 4 days in a row. Yup.

Emily has slowed down markedly. In the last 24 hours, she has taken 6 feeds solely through the feeding tube because she's too tired to take a bottle or nurse. She lost weight because the amount of calories she was burning while feeding was more than her intake. The doctors say these babies usually start off stronger because their lungs haven't been weighed down too much yet from the extra blood circulating there. But, now we're starting to see the effects of her heart defect through her laboring to feed and her overall lethargy. They also detected a heart murmur yesterday and ordered an echo for tomorrow. It's another sign that her heart is working too hard. It seems likely this weekend she will start taking a diuretic, which will thin the blood and make everything easier on her.

I'm finding a balance between listening to the doctors and advocating for my kid. On Tuesday, I just flat out advocated. I knew she was tired. I pushed to get OT in to start teaching her how to take bottles. I'm glad I did because she feeds much more efficiently from a bottle than nursing. I'm also pretty sure I offended one of the doctors, but it's funny how manners don't matter when you know what's best for your child. As in, don't mess with me. Give my girl a bottle. Stat. I was right, by the way... (smug, much?).

I see other parents shuffling through the NICU periodically. Yesterday, I talked to a dad whose girl was born at 22 weeks. Yeah. I know. He was nothing short of thankful for the care she's received.

Funny how quickly you're humbled when you talk to someone whose road has been much longer and harder than your own. You try to look at your stack of bath towels from home with appreciation instead of annoyance. You also try to remember to change your pants every day. Because really. Let's keep it together...

Mommin' ain't easy

Well. The craziness of this past week has just delayed the part we knew was coming: watching Emily for signs of heart fatigue and gauging when she may need the initial surgery. She is nursing for about 10 minutes at a time but then gets pretty tuckered out. Our main goal is to get her feeding and gaining weight. We may need to start her on some meds to ease the strain on her heart, but the doctors want to watch her a bit before jumping into that decision. The next step after medication would be clamping off her pulmonary vein to slow the flow of blood to her lungs, easing the strain on her heart.

As much as I want to just fully nurse Emily, the cardiologist reminded me this morning that it's unrealistic to expect that. I knew a few months ago it was very likely Emily would need a combination of nursing with taking bottles of my milk, but fortified, to give her a caloric boost and to ease her fatigue. Bottle feeding is less work for babies. I loved nursing Oliver and nursing Emily has brought me out of a dark place, so this is hard. It's one of those times as a parent where you're trying to set aside what you want so badly for your child to see what it is they actually need. The practical side of me is whispering: so she'll take a few bottles of your milk a day. Big deal...

I cannot put into words how much I miss Oliver. Last night I had an awful dream where I kept losing him in a crowd. Ugh. I know he's in good hands, having the time of his life with Grandpa Wes. Those two are a riot together. I want to take care of Oliver and Emily at the same time, but it's not possible right now, and nothing explains being separated from your child and it's out of your control.

Clearly the theme of today's post is mom guilt. Sheesh.

Oh - we're in a boarding room with Emily! Easily the happiest day since we've been here. Last night I fell asleep watching her in her bassinet and so much felt right. Being near my girl and being able to hold her is easing the stress of all this. Jared said the scariest part of last week was watching me slip into a dark depression. I know what he's talking about. Nothing alleviated my desire to hold her, to see her open her eyes, to hear her cry, to listen to those cute newborn sounds.

No, mommin' ain't easy. And all the women in Cub Foods at 9pm for the third time in a week, or those staring at a pregnancy test wondering why it's so hard to just get two blue lines, or those browsing Pinterest feeling like a failure because their kid had chicken nuggets for dinner instead of this gluten-free-tofurkey-keto-something-or-other meal they just pinned but know they will never ever make, raised their hands in agreement and shouted, "amen, sister!"

Have you heard the good news?

Easter is my favorite holiday. It's because Jesus isn't some guy in a painting or immortalized in a story - he is alive. He's here. He came back. He fought back hell for us. He conquered sin. He took the punishment that was due us and gave us what he deserved. He gave us forgiveness and a promise of a relationship with him.

The good news of the gospel is that Jesus did this for every single one of us. In the words of probably my favorite preacher ever, "we are more sinful than we could ever imagine, but more loved than we ever dared hope." -Tim Keller

We got the MRI results back, and the good news for us is that Emily has "probable" mild to moderate brain damage. This means that she may have a little trouble with things like speech, memory, or gross motor skills. But, the neurologist emphasized to me that the "probable" part of it was actually great news: it's not definitive, he kept saying. In other words, she may not have any lasting damage. The neurologist showed me her scans, other photos of the brain, yada yada, but the gist of it is that she does not have major damage.

This, my friends, is great news.

Hey, the way I look at it is this: we're none of us perfect. And Easter reminds me of just that very truth. We're not perfect. But love and grace and time can change a lot of things. It can change our hearts to know God. Those things can also change little Emily's brain so that it recovers and grows, and whatever challenges she may have will be faced with love and confidence and no fear. Because you'll be just fine, baby girl. You'll be just fine. No matter what.

Your prayers have meant the world. I have often been too tired or my brain too fuzzy to say prayers that have made much sense. And maybe that's the point, anyways. It's not about pretty words. It's about our heart.

In the quiet

Finally... it is so much quieter. Emily was brought up to full body temp today and is doing well. She is still hooked up to wires and an IV, but lost a lot of that stuff since she's off the cooling pad.

Where there used to be 5 different machines with screens constantly blinking and sounds beeping, there is only one. We have space.

Where there used to be wires all over her, in squiggles on top of her head, across her face, forehead, in her mouth and nose, now, there's just a feeding tube and several probes stuck on her little body. We have our little girl's sweet face.

Where there used to be us, crowding around the machines, trying to touch her as much as we could - there we still are, but we have space.

We haven't handled the past few days very well at times. It's still hard. But, we did our best. And we have grace.

Tonight we start the wait for her MRI results, but oddly enough, I'm not anxious. At least not right now. I think the world of difference is being able to hold her and feel her and smell that amazing baby smell.

And there goes the curtain and new nurses step in, and I should probably go. The one thing I keep thinking is that Chris Tomlin song line: "You are good. You are good." And He is, no matter the outcome. I know this because today I get to hold my baby girl, and today, that's enough evidence for me. 

One tough cookie

Emily was taken off the ventilator around noon yesterday! She is still breathing well without it.

I had my days mixed up. Tomorrow (Saturday), not today, is when the MRI will be done. We won't get results back until 12-24 hours after the MRI. Tomorrow morning at 6am they will begin the process of slowly warming her body back up to a normal temp. It will take about 6 hours to do so. The MRI will likely happen tomorrow night or Sunday morning at the latest.

They track her brain activity through these crazy probes, and we can see her brain waves on a monitor - it's fun to see how she responds to us! But the point of the monitor is to see if she has any seizures, which she has not. Phew!

After she is off the cooling mat, we can finally, finally hold her. I can also begin nursing her, too. She will still be fed through her tube, but I can't wait to hold my sweet babe and nurse. Today she began taking in my milk through the tube, about 6ml every 3 hours. The rest of her nourishment is coming from something called TPN, which from what I understand, is a super-charged fluid full of vitamins and everything good.

Last night they had to give her more platelets and are still keeping an eye on that. She is off of antibiotics. Her glucose levels have still been low; they are stopping it today and will retest a few times to see how she does. She is on morphine and atavan to keep her comfortable. When it starts to wear off, she voices that she's not too happy - I'd be the same if my body temp was that low! We heard a little cry for the first time this morning. It was actually very reassuring. I want her to tell me all about it!

Just a couple hours ago, we had a little scare with one of her tubes. Blood was clotting at the end of it which they spotted during a heart ultrasound this morning. But, when they took the tube out, the clot came with it... so relieved about that.

I got to see Oliver today which did my heart good. He'll meet Emily tomorrow once we can hold her - we didn't want to scare him with tons of cords and stuff. She'll still have a bunch of tubes and cords, of course, but at least we can wrap her up and hide them.

My milk is coming in:) It makes me feel good to be able to do something for her. My heart just aches to hold her.

Thank you for your prayers and keep em coming!
-Pray that the damage is none to minimal.
-Pray that she will be able to stabilize on her own once she's off the cooling mat.
-Pray that her blood pressure increases - it's consistently low.
-Pray for overall healing.
-Pray for wisdom for all her doctors.

I'll try to update tomorrow, too. Love you guys:)

Sweet friends: please pray

Hey everyone... It seems impersonal to plop this on a blog, but it really is the easiest way for me to communicate right now. Baby Emily made quite the entrance at 3:43am today, and we could use your prayers. It was a pretty traumatic delivery/c-section. They had to completely knock me out. When Emily was born, her heart rate was super low and it took 20 minutes to fully revive her. She had already lost a ton of blood and was distressed.

Because of her significant blood loss, she may have brain damage. They are keeping her at a cooler temp, around 92.5, until Friday. They are trying to mitigate any possible brain damage. On Friday they'll do an MRI and we'll know a lot more then. The good news is that she's wiggly, has great reflexes, and is getting ornery- so much so they had to sedate her. As far as brain damage goes, they are telling us that's a positive sign. So we'll take what we can get. No big surprises as far as her heart- all looks as we expected it would, so that's good too.

Something weird was happening with my placenta. The doctor said it was calcified and in two halves; Emily wasn't getting enough nourishment. As for when the placenta went "bad," they are trying to figure that out right now. I had an appointment last Thursday, and everything looked great then.

I'm a mess. I haven't gotten to hold her yet and I won't for quite a few days. I'm working on getting my milk supply established which is a challenge strictly pumping, not being able to do skin-to-skin, and just dealing with c-section pain.

Trying to stay positive but we need our prayer warriors! Please intervene for supernatural healing and strength. I fully believe that there is incredible power in prayer, but I'm pretty shot right now, and can't pray much more beyond "Jesus, please help."

I (we) love you all and will do my best to keep you updated. Please text encouragement my way - I'll try to respond, but it's a little overwhelming here. Please know that I am reading it and needing it even if I don't get back to you.

Oh, and she's adorable:)

Plastic chairs and promises

Last week, as we sat in the cardiologist's office, we watched her draw out the anatomy of our baby girl's heart. This is now the fifth time a doctor has drawn it for me. She was making sure - as doctors do - that we understood exactly what was going on. I know that I'm not done putting in my time sitting in uncomfortable plastic chairs, nodding and listening as different doctors sketch the ins and outs of her heart, of the surgery, of the recovery, of the bypass machine, and on and on. If you've ever dealt with health problems - either personally or have been through it with someone else - you know what I'm talking about.

God doesn't do that. He doesn't sit us down and calmly draw out his plan, making sure we understand the terms, the detours, the risks, the complications, and the prognosis. None of this happens. Ever. And at times that is frustrating. He "knows the plans he has for us" (Jeremiah 29:11), but he doesn't sit us down and tell us those plans in detail, all at once. He chooses instead to walk along with us on the journey. He knows where we are going, but we do not, and he asks us to trust him. He tells us of his goodness through promises in his word, through others who know him, too, and, in the hardest moments, through soft reassurances you feel in your heart as you sit in your car and cry. 

The beginning of journeys like this begin with the unexpected: a diagnosis, a loss, a relationship cracking, a child leaving. And then we have a choice. Do we scramble, looking for anyone or anything to give us reassurances about exactly what we're in for, to give us some kind of a guarantee? Do we try desperately to fix the very thing that is breaking? Or, do we choose to turn to God and ask, "what are your promises for me?" 

So, I've been asking that very thing lately: what does he promise? What are truths about him I need to purposefully store in my heart?

• He promises that he will sustain us through it all: "He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength." -Isaiah 40:29

• He works all things for our good: "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good..." -Romans 8:28 

• He is always good, no matter our circumstances: "Whatever is good and perfect comes down to us from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. He never changes or casts a shifting shadow." -James 1:17

• He is able to do much more than we can even imagine: "Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory..." -Ephesians 3:20-21

• When we go to him in prayer, he will give us peace: "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." -Philippians 4:6-7

• He promises that he will never leave us; in fact, he is one step ahead, fighting our battles: "So be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid and do not panic before them. For the Lord your God will personally go ahead of you. He will neither fail you nor abandon you.” -Deuteronomy 31:6

But sometimes as we sit in those uncomfortable plastic chairs, those truths and promises are not the first thing that comes to our minds. 

And it takes some work to let go of the anxiety and make a deliberate decision to trust God instead. Yesterday was one of those days for me when I was deciding this ALL the live long day (yes, including at 3:54am). Do you ever have those days? Sometimes, trusting Jesus takes some doing. It's a process. Some days, it's a fight. To choose to trust him is not always an easy thing to do. Simple? Yep. Easy? Depends. 

I'm glad he's got so much grace for us.

Prayers and thanks! We are beyond thankful that her condition is treatable and, eventually, can be fixed through open heart surgery. Pray for a successful healing of her heart, whether that's in a crazy miracle form or either through the equally crazy, miraculous surgery. How amazing is it - truly - that we live in a world where doctors can diagnosis these things well before these sweet babies arrive. And, keep praying that the little turkey flips! ;-) Also, I'm so thankful for my sweet friends, Katie and Natalie - they threw me a sprinkle on Sunday:) It was so fun to just celebrate this baby girl! I'm also amazed and so grateful for the help friends, family, and coworkers have been offering to us during this time. You guys rock!

Look at those cupcakes! And my cute friends!

Update!

On Monday, Jared and I met with a team of doctors, including the head NICU doctor. We got a much clearer picture of what Emily's first days and weeks will look like.

In the past few weeks, more has come to light about baby girl's heart. We have found out that she will need an initial surgery between 2-4 weeks old. Her lower left ventricle is measuring smaller than her right; this means even more blood will be pumped to her lungs, causing a lot of stress on her lungs and heart. To help slow the flow down, they will be putting a clamp around her pulmonary valve.

We will be in the NICU for at least one week and possibly up to a month. It all depends on how Emily is doing and the timing of her first surgery. At the appointment, we discussed the medications she will be on, what breastfeeding will look like, and the hurdles she will have while nursing and gaining weight because she will be so tired from her heart working extra hard. As Dr. George put it, until her open heart surgery later this year, we will be in a state of "managing heart failure."

Now the open heart surgery is estimated to occur between 4-6 months old. Since my last blog post, we learned that the official term for her heart defect is double-outlet right ventricle with a VSD (subarterial ventricular septal defect).

Because of the NICU's strict visitor policies (see below), Oliver can visit once, but that will be it. This was hard to hear, but I totally understand why, and I am glad that they are protecting those fragile NICU babes from getting sick.

To be honest, the hardest part of the meeting for me was hearing that after she's born, she can stay with me for about 10-15 minutes but then she will be taken right to the NICU so they can run lots of scans and tests and keep her under close watch. I was happy to hear that Jared can go with her, but on the other hand, I know being separated from her for her first few hours will be really hard for me.

I was amazed at the NICU team and especially Dr. George. While we were touring the NICU, he greeted every single parent by name and knew their baby's name. He only asked for our names once and continually talked about Emily; he knew every detail of her case already and was very thorough in explaining what we should expect both about her stay and about her heart. To say that we will be in good hands is an absolute understatement.

Please pray for... 
-Baby Emily to flip! She is still breech; I was 34 weeks on Monday. Selfishly, I don't want to be dealing with recovering from a C-section during all of this. I'm seeing a chiropractor now who is performing a non-invasive technique that helps breech babies turn. I actually did this with Oliver, too, and he flipped at 36 weeks. Because of my weird uterus, I'm not a candidate for performing a version or any other technique that pushes the baby around, so please pray the chiropractor helps!
-On the other hand, pray for baby to cook for as LONG as possible. I'm a likely candidate for having babies early (Oliver was 2 weeks early). But, if being breech means she stays in there longer to bake, I will happily take it!
-Pray for our family as we gear up for all of this. We have been flying around finishing projects, doing taxes, buttoning up sub plans, work leave, making freezer meals, and so on. Pray for unity, teamwork, and sweet moments of togetherness before we enter into this season.

Lastly, a note about visiting us in the NICU: 
The hospital will still be under strict visitor's rules because of this nasty flu season. Here are their guidelines for visitors to protect all of the very vulnerable NICU babies:
-You must have gotten the flu shot this year to visit.
-You must be healthy when visiting.
-If you've been around someone who has been sick in the past couple of days, they ask you to refrain from visiting, even if you are not showing any symptoms.
-No children under 5 are allowed to visit.

Faulty Wiring

I'm bringing back the blog! This is an easier way to keep everyone updated about our baby girl. And I'm too lazy to make a new blog.

For those of you who don't know, at our 20-week ultrasound last Friday, a rare heart defect was detected in our baby girl called Transposition of the Great Arteries, or TGA (see below). It occurs in the first 8 weeks of gestation for no real reason or cause. 

Today we had the ultrasound and echocardiogram. She does have TGA, but with a slight twist. First, instead of having both arteries incorrectly inserted, her pulmonary vessel is in the right spot, but the aorta is not. Both are inserted on the right chamber of her heart; her aorta needs to be connected to the left side of her heart. Second, there is also a hole between her two lower chambers that shouldn't be there. This hole is allowing her blood to mix, so she can circulate mixed-blood throughout her body (not oxygen-rich), but it can't stay that way. If not fixed, she would quickly develop lung disease or her heart would just get too worn out. 

So! The good news is she likely won't need immediate surgery, but she will need it corrected. They estimate now that they'll operate when she is 1-2 months old (this could change depending on how she's doing). It is open heart surgery, so they will stop her heart while connected to the bypass machine. I'll deliver up in Minneapolis so they can monitor her closely after she's born. They will also run a bunch of tests and do CT scans/etc in the 24 hours after she's born. They can only see things so clearly right now through ultrasound, and the surgeon will need to see the exact location of the aorta and the hole to know how he will fix it. She could have several more open heart surgeries in the future. We won't know that until she's born and he can see her heart. 

I'm so thankful it's not immediate surgery: we can bring her home, get nursing established, and snuggle and bond with her in her first days of life. I'm also in awe of what these surgeons can do. It's amazing. She's already a fighter and super wiggly; it took them over an hour to get a good view of her heart because she wouldn't stop flipping around.

Everything else looks just fine. Her valves and arteries look strong and have good circulation. 

She just has some faulty wiring:)

Buy a toaster

This is an old post that I never published - I think I wrote it around December 2010. It's odd how much of it is still so true. And I still do have that quote up in my classroom:)

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I have a quote up in my classroom that says, "If you want a guarantee, buy a toaster." Life doesn't work like a department store. If something's not working, if a relationship is failing, if someone is dying, if your job is on the line, you can't march up to the counter with your receipt and demand that it be replaced at no cost. What are we really guaranteed in life? So much we demand that we must have, but at no point has God told us that we will have everything we want and that everything is fair. It's not. That's a guarantee - "in this world you will have trouble." In some odd way, that is so comforting to me. I can bank on that - I can shape my life on that - because the unknown is more scary to me than anything else.

My Grandma Morreim is very sick, and it breaks my heart. Yesterday she was taken by ambulance to Mayo Clinic because her heart's failing. She is stable now, but we aren't sure what will happen next. She is so dear to me. I grew up taking trips to their house to spend hours upon hours with my Grandma in the sewing room. We made doll clothes, beanie baby sleeping bags, dresses, and quilts. Every time we took the trip to the Heartland quilt shop, she told me the story of the evergreen trees on the side of the freeway. "I remember riding in my Grandpa's truck," she'd say, "and he would tell us, 'kids, you see how small those trees are now? You'll grow up to see them get big, but by that time, I'll be gone.' And sure enough, every time I see those trees, I think of my Grandpa." My Grandma patiently taught me how to stitch together small squares of fabric, never snapping at me when I did it wrong or didn't understand. Her soft, bruised, purple spotted hands would cover mine as she showed me how to guide the fabric through the sewing machine. She smelled like Jergens. I remember the way the tiny yellow light from the machine glowed on her hands and how it made her silver wedding ring sparkle. She worked quickly, gathering up the small scraps of fabric and thread on the table and smoothing the large pieces of material over with her hands. Quick, long, sure motions.

I remember the last time I quilted with my Grandma, I grew frustrated. She wasn't how I remembered. She was slow, struggling to pull the fabric up onto the machine, shuffling around the sewing room, steadying herself on the tables as she walked. I had to go to the bathroom because my eyes were full of tears. She wasn't the same. Time and age had gotten to her. I was so angry that this happened to her, so mad that her body was giving out. It wasn't fair. None of it was in her control.

No, there's no guarantee. We cannot make sense of pain. But amidst it all, Jesus is here, inviting us into his presence. None of it makes sense, and the fine print is too blurry to read. But he is here.

It's been a while...

...so long, in fact, that I forgot my blogger account information! I have taken a long, long hiatus from blogging. In short, a lot of life happened. Instead of boring you with paragraphs of detailed information that you'll skim anyway (because that's what I would do), I'm just going to hop right back in.

What's on my mind tonight: abundance. This past year, the driving force behind everything I've sought after and fought for is this nagging, unyielding belief that God wants more for me. I'm not talking about circumstances. There is no magical formula of what I do and do not have that will make me any more or less satisfied. Nope. No job, pair of leather boots, cup of coffee, relationship, car, or checkbook balance will bring me satisfaction. On the contrary: those desires only point to something much, much, MUCH bigger that I want. It is an echo, a shadow, of what my heart is truly longing after.

Him.

Jesus.

What a simple answer amidst a complicated wilderness; but it is the only answer that has turned that nagging desire in my head into something calm, full of strength, and peaceful. It has brought in the belief that God indeed works everything for the good of those who love Him. It has brought in the full assurance that the answer to what drives us really boils down to this: we need Him. We long for something much bigger than anything we will ever find in this world. And He will call to us, continually, consistently, every day, in every thought, because He longs to bring us home.

He is the abundance that we need. It's in his nature. He's not just "enough," he is more than we could ever dream to ask for. When we see God for who he really is, "we realize we are more wicked than we ever dared imagine, but more loved than we ever dared hope." (Tim Keller).

Do I sometimes fall back into thoughts that are full of fears and doubts? Yep. But instead of looking back, I'm trying to focus on the fact that He pulls me towards thoughts focused on his goodness and grace. It's a process, that's for sure, but the point isn't how long it takes; the point is that we're walking in the ever-increasing knowledge of what the Gospel really means.

Charming typos :)

Judging by his spelling errors, I'm not sure how much I've actually helped him? Made my day nonetheless! Too funny!

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Dear Mrs. Morreim,

   

This is part of an email assignment in word proccessing. I would like to thank you for helping me be able to write collage grade pappers. Your class has helped me tremendously in writing collage grade pappers and essays. You also helped me sharpen up my wprd choice and grammer. Thank you alot.

    

Sincerely, Matt

Theraflu and Starbucks

Right now I am hopped up on Theraflu cold medicine and a big ol' thermos of Starbucks coffee. I am exhausted. It's one of those days where 8am hasn't even hit yet and I'm already giving myself pep talks. Yesterday I stayed home sick with a head cold, which has now moved into my chest, resulting in me sounding like a blues singer with a 30-year smoking habit. I probably should have stayed home today as well, but I get bored.

As I write this, I'm realizing how whiny I sound... A different way of saying how I'm feeling today is that I'm in desperate need of encouragement. In many areas of my life right now I feel like I am just barely making it by; in relationships, work, physical health. I am letting myself become run down by the world and its cares. I am being ruled by worry more often than I'd like to admit, or more often than I think is healthy (is it ever healthy? hmm).  I want to shovel these discouraging thoughts out of my mind and fill my head and heart up with His truth.

Psalm 27:14 - "Wait for the Lord. Be strong and take heart, and wait for the Lord."
Isaiah 41:10 - "So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
2 Corinthians 1:3-4 - "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. For just as we share abundantly in the sufferings of Christ, so also our comfort abounds through Christ."