Too Many To Declare

God continues to provide for our family through the overwhelming generosity of others.  Before we can even anticipate or express a need, it is abundantly met.  Today our family received an extraordinary gift from the church in Vermillion, South Dakota.
My dad began preaching for this congregation when I was around eight years old.  We were an extremely small group, often numbering less than thirty.  We grew to be as close as family over the years.  Not only did we spend hours together each week during worship, we also orchestrated frequent get togethers.  I have wonderful memories of playing flag football in our cow pasture, volleyball wherever we could set up a net, and croquet in back yards. We ate banana bars and jello topped with bananas and Cool Whip.  We took advantage of the extra snowfall by sailing on a sled...which was attached by a chain to a surprisingly fast tractor.  One of my favorite activities was playing hide and seek in the pitch black cornfields close to our farm.
These friendships formed so long ago have stayed with me through the years.  Even without seeing each other often, the feelings endure.  When my grandma passed away two years ago, our friends from Vermillion drove to Nebraska for the funeral.  I honestly cannot express how much this display of support touched us.  Those relationships we weave in childhood can help sustain us when life unravels.

"Many, Lord my God, are the wonders you have done, the things you planned for us. None can compare with you; were I to speak and tell of your deeds, they would be too many to declare." (Psalm 40:5)

Be With Me, Lord

My earliest childhood memories of church took place inside a big white building in Yankton, South Dakota.  My sister and I sat ever so quietly on a wooden pew, since Dad had a great view from the pulpit to observe our best behavior during his sermons.  The song leader knew of my affection for hymn number 31, Be With Me, Lord, so sent a smile in my direction each of the numerous times he led it just for me.  After services, we happily soaked up attention from everyone around us.  One man used to love to tug on my pigtails, while another teased us by calling my sister and me "boys" every chance he got.  We enjoyed potluck dinners downstairs, and grew to expect tater tot casserole and taco salad.  Before leaving for home, the adults would chat inside while we escaped to the front steps and lawn to play with our friends.  During these years, not only did I learn that Zacchaeus was a wee little man, but also the meaning of growing in love one toward another.
Although years and miles separate us now, I still strongly associate this congregation with the word "home". They have continually prayed for our family over the years as we faced various trials, and reached out to us over and over again.  Today we received a tremendous gift from them to help with our recent struggles.  We are immensely grateful.

"Be with me, Lord, I cannot live without Thee,
I dare not try to take one step alone,
I cannot bear the loads of life, unaided,
I need Thy strength to lean myself upon."

While I've since learned her first name was Ella, as a child I only knew her as Sister Craig.  I've still never tasted homemade bread as good as hers.

One of my first friends at church.

Close buddies.

Blessed Beyond Measure

I can't let another day end without expressing gratitude to those who walked with us these past two weeks.  During the long hours of Jason's initial transplant appointments, a friend sat with us.  His presence was calming and reassuring.  Another friend made time in his busy schedule to investigate the noises under the hood of our car.  When it became apparent that our engine had breathed its last, my dad and brother-in-law stepped in.  Since I was simply unable to focus at that time on a solution, they quietly worked behind the scenes to decide whether we should repair our car or purchase another one.  My sister handed me the keys to her van to use as long as I needed.
My mom came to stay with Eli so I could be with Jason while he was admitted for evaluation.  She bravely tackled the linen closet, which was the scene of my defeat in the battle against folding fitted sheets.  She organized the pantry and once again made the kitchen sink shine.  She helped with homework, made meatloaf which was deemed better than mine (which, believe me, is no small feat), and initiated special chats at the bus stop each morning before school.
After we received the decision about transplant, I went for a walk to make some phone calls.  As the elevator doors opened, friends waited just on the other side with comforting hugs.  They stayed throughout the lengthy process of discharge, which finally occurred long after Jason had gotten dressed in anticipation.  They brought us home after fortifying us with Winstead's burgers.
We picked up our car from the repair shop today.  She'd had quite the makeover, with years shaved off her life by an engine with a mere 52,000 miles.  Before I'd even had time to work out a repayment plan with my parents, we received an overwhelming anonymous gift to help cover repairs.  After we returned from a drive, a friend delivered a beautiful basket to our home.  Friends from church had loaded it with lovely goodies and encouraging notes.  We are continually blessed beyond measure.
We had an appointment with Jason's kidney doctor last Thursday.  St. Luke's had felt Jason was ready for dialysis, and were actually planning to begin while he was admitted had we ended up staying another day.  His kidney doctor, however, feels we can wait a bit longer.  She told us that recent studies show there is no benefit to starting earlier.  She hopes to put it off until he reaches 10% function...he is currently at 15%.  At this point, I am still planning to do dialysis at home.  We haven't completely ruled out the possibility of seeking another opinion regarding transplant.  While he was at St. Luke's, Jason's labs showed a toxic level of Dilantin (anti-seizure medicine) in his blood, caused by his kidney failure.  This likely explains his recent increase in falls and lack of balance.  We are tapering off the medicine with hopes of stopping it altogether.  We pray this improves his mobility.

"Yes, my soul, find rest in God; my hope comes from Him.  Truly He is my rock and my salvation; He is my fortress, I will not be shaken." (Psalm 62:5-6)