Blog Stalkers

It's been seven weeks since my friend Elisha "flew up to Heaven on the wings of angels".

They played Sissy's Song, by Alan Jackson, at her graveside.

I don't know if she picked that song or not.  

She and I had talked about our funerals one time when we were walking.  It was kind of a depressing topic, but we talked about everything, so somehow the discussion of our funerals came up.  I had told her I want this song played at my funeral.  

When we got to the cemetery, as we stood at the top of the hill, just feet away from her coffin, and the music to "Sissy's Song" started, I sucked in my breath, remembering that conversation and trying to keep from sobbing.

I miss her.  

I think about her a lot.  Even still.  

It's just so sad.  

But I think I'm healing.  Slowly.

I no longer obsess about how awful her last days, weeks, and months were.  Now I picture her in heaven.  

I imagine her up there with a healthy spiritual body, a head full of hair, and pain-free smile on her face.  I picture her at the top of the mountain, looking back at the valley she came through to get there, with her hands in the air, feeling victorious.  I see her comforted.  I see her strong.  I see her happy.

...

I think about our walks, and our talks.  

And what amazes me is how I never feel truly inspired to write until I'm thinking about Elisha.  It's hard to write about anything else.

My husband has encouraged me to write about other things.  While he knows my writing about her is therapeutic to me, it may be painful for the those of you who love Elisha.  I apologize if that is the case.  I'm not trying to dredge up memories to hurt you.  

I'm just writing because I feel inspired.  I write so much better when I feel inspired.  And right now, nothing inspires me more than Elisha.

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I remember one time when she and I were walking, we had both recently posted separately on our individual blogs.  She asked me, "So do you stalk your blog?"

That may seem a very strange question, but if you knew Elisha, you would totally understand.  She had a way of saying things that just made you laugh.

So, through giggles, I asked, "Stalk my blog?"

She went on to explain, "Yeah.  Like check it every five seconds to see how many people have read it."

When you create and design your own blog, you can go to your design page and look at your blog numbers.  Each post is listed, along with the number of times that post has been viewed.  So after you publish what you've written, you can continually refresh your design page to see how many people have read it.

Oh yes, I do that.  And I was so thankful to know that Elisha did that too.

Then she asked me how many had read my most recent blog post, about reconnecting with my childhood best friend  (B.B.F.F.E. - Part One).  At that time, about 55 people had read it.

Elisha was shocked, as this was her all-time favorite thing I had ever written.  She thought my number should be much higher.

I was shocked because I thought that number was pretty good.

So I asked her how many had read her recent blog post discussing her anxiety about an upcoming scan she was having to determine if her body was clear of cancer (Scanxiety).  She had well over 200 views.

My mouth dropped.

She laughed.

I said, "You are so popular."

I went on to tell her that my highest number was 81 page views.  I had never even gotten to 100.

Elisha said, "We're going to get you to 100 on this one."

Later that night, she encouraged her Facebook friends to read my blog post, sharing a link to it on her wall.  By the next day, I had 101 views.  I texted her immediately, "Now I'm popular too!  Thank you!"

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Elisha and I continued to stalk our blog posts after that, sharing our numbers.  The last blog post she wrote told the world that her cancer had returned (Round Two).  She texted me numerous times over the next 48 hours, to tell me her numbers.  We were both shocked.  Within days of her typing those words, over 2,000 people had read them.  I just kept telling her, "You are so popular."

Elisha was popular.  She still is.

I check her Facebook page often, and lots of people are still talking about her.  So I hope it's okay that I am too.

...

Seeds of Faith - inspired by Elisha Skeen

Since my declaration to be more inspirational in my writing, as Elisha was, I've closed each of my blog posts with "Seeds of Faith", hoping to point everything back to God, as Elisha did.

I've lost loved ones in my past.  But loss of life has never been more "in my face" as it has been since Elisha passed.  I see her not here everyday.  When I walk up the road, she's not here.  When I invite her husband over for a meal, she's not here.  When I play with her son, she's not here.  When I write a blog, she's not here.

How do I point that back to God?

I don't know exactly, except to say, that in losing her, and having this hole in my life where she used to be, I am continually seeking His comfort, His strength, and His peace to fill that void.

And every time I am sad over losing her, I remember her husband and her son, right next door, whose grief and pain are so much bigger than mine.  So I pray for His comfort, His strength, and His peace upon them.

Sometimes words fail me.  And even in prayers, I don't know exactly what to say.  So I pray the 23rd Psalm.

Lord - You are my shepherd; I shall not want.

You maketh me to lie down in green pastures:  You leadeth me beside the still waters.

You restoreth my soul: You leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for Your name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for You are with me; Your rod and Your staff they comfort me.

You preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: You anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in YOUR house for ever.

When Elisha was sick, and I knew she needed peace, but I couldn't come up with the words to pray, I prayed the 23rd Psalm for her.  Lord - You are Elisha's shepherd;  she shall not want...

When her husband and her son leave my house, I pray the 23rd Psalm for them.

I encourage you to memorize the 23rd Psalm. When you are in need of God's comfort, God's strength, and God's peace, but your heart and mind are at a loss for words, this passage of scripture can be your guide.

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If you are reading this blog, Elisha has touched your life in some way, even if it is only through my words.  I hope you are inspired.

Test Week

One of my favorite week's of homeschooling is our TEST WEEK.  Does that make me weird?

It does.  I know it does.  

Even when I was little, I LOVED test week.  I got excited about my number two pencils.  I got excited about filling in the circles.  I got excited about seeing the teacher mark the start and finish times on the board. I got excited about all of it.  Mostly I got excited about showing myself how much I had learned.

I was such a nerd...

I still am.  I still love test week.  I love getting pencils sharpened for my two boys.  I love filling out their student information pages.  I love writing the start and finish times on the board.  I love all of it.  Mostly I love seeing how much my boys have learned.

See.  I'm still a nerd.  

And the funny thing is...  I've passed it onto my boys.  They love test week too.

I guess they're nerds too.

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So...  I was bit perplexed when a friend of mine texted me yesterday morning.  This week is test week at her  homeschool.  Her text said, and I quote...

"Let me tell you, I HATE testing.  My daughter has already cried this morning and I felt completely helpless. Arg."

We texted back and forth for a little while.  She was venting.  I was attempting to cheer her up.  

I later received another text from her...

"I need some words of encouragement.  I'm about to cry."

My poor friend.  This is her first year testing.  I tried to cheer her up using Abilene's famous words...

"You is good.  You is smart.  You is important."

(That's a quote from The Help.  If you haven't read that book, you should.  Or at least watch the movie.  It's awesome.)

...

My kids have never cried during test week.  And I have never wanted to cry during test week.

Yes, it could be because we are total nerds.  

But, just in case that's not it, and I'm actually doing something that might be helpful for others to know, here is what I do to insure Test Week is a positive experience at Chapel Hill Academy.

1.  I always test in April.

I test right after Easter break.  That way we are refreshed.  We are nowhere close to being burned out.  It makes for a good week.

2.  I tell my boys the test is not for them, but for me.  

I tell my boys, ages 8 & 10, this test is not about them.  It's about me.  I explain that their test scores will show me what I have taught well, and what I haven't taught well.  I tell them if they do not know the answers, not to worry about it.  It will show me what subject matter we still need to focus on.   These tests show my strengths and weaknesses as a teacher.  This is good for me to know.

3.  I don't make a big deal about the tests.

I don't act like the fact that we are testing is all that important.  I don't spend weeks ahead of time preparing for the test.  This way it seems as though we are simply taking a break from our normal homeschool days to "see how Mommy is doing as a teacher".

4.  I don't do any other homeschooling during test week.

I'm sure the reason my boys like test week is because our homeschool days end up being much shorter.  Testing only takes two to three hours each day.  That leaves a lot of time for play.

5.  I always do a pre-test on day one of testing.

We use the Terra Nova standardized test.  (I get them from Bayside School Services - http://baysideschoolservices.com/.)  This test comes with a pre-test.  We always start with this on Monday.  It's quick and easy.  I find that is a good way to start off the week.  They complete day one of testing on a positive note with a good feeling, and then they get to play.

6.  On the last day of testing, we always do something extra fun.

My first year of homeschooling, my oldest son was the only one testing.  When we finished our last test section, I let him pick a special place for lunch - just the two of us.  He picked Waffle House.  He is sooo my child.  And I let him pick songs on the jukebox.  He played all Rascal Flatts.  My child, for sure!   Last year, we stayed overnight in a hotel.  This year, I scheduled a field trip at the Lazy 5 Ranch.  

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Don't get me wrong.  I don't breeze through Test Week without any stress.  There are many aspects of testing that stir up nervousness in my mind, and in my stomach.  Here are some thoughts that run through my head as I try to look over their shoulders while they're taking their tests...

• I know he knows the right answer.  BUT he marked the wrong answer.  
• We haven't studied that yet!
• Is he supposed to know that?
• I don't even know the answer to that.
• I'm gonna have to google that one.
• I want to help you.
• I wish I could help you.
• I'm sorry I can't help you.

I think the hardest part of test week is not being able to help your child get to the right answer.  This is when I have to remind myself... (and this is exactly what I told my friend yesterday)

" ...it doesn't matter if they do good or bad.  All they have to do is take the test.  So everyone take a deep breath.  Smile.  Pray.  And know that this will all be over soon."

I know it's different in public school.  EOG scores matter.  But in homeschool, the only one affected by your final score is you - the teacher.  If your child doesn't score well, you just teach it again.  It's simple as that.

...

I got our test scores back last Friday.  As I scanned the pages, I was full of relief and and overcome with joy.  

My boys are nerds.  And it turns out they have a very good teacher.  :)

...

Seeds of Faith (inspired by Elisha Skeen)

Just hearing the word "test" sparks anxiety and fear in the minds of many teachers and students.  Here are some Bible verses to help you get through Test Week.

^{James 1:5}

If any of you lack wisdom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men liberally, and upbraideth not; and it shall be given him.

Psalm 56:3

What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.

Proverbs 19:8

He that getteth wisdom loveth his own soul: he that keepeth understanding shall find good.

And my personal favorite...

Philippians 4:13

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

It's May.

It's May.

Do you know how I know it's May?  No.  Not because I looked at my calendar.

I know it's May because I've got that feeling.  You homeschool moms, and probably public school teachers, know exactly what I'm talking about.  That feeling I like to call ~ "I'm done".

For those of you who don't have the luxury of lesson-planning, grading papers, conducting tests, and pretty much being fully responsible for the education of your children, let me explain it to you...

My two boys and I have spent the last nine months doing organized learning in our classroom.  We start with Science, then move on to Handwriting and Social Studies.  I give them their Reading assignments.  While I fix lunch, my boys take turns working on their typing skills on our computer.  After lunch, we resume our studies with an afternoon activity such as art, poetry, or critical thinking.  Then they do some Language Arts, followed by Writing.  And our school day is done after Spelling and Math are completed.

At least that's how I plan for each day to be...

As you can imagine, it doesn't always work out that way.  In fact, the closer we get to the end of our school year, the less likely it is that our school day looked anything like the schedule I described above.

In fact, today...

Weeeeell...

I'm almost too embarrassed to share this with you...

But I guess if it makes you feel better about your school day, it will be worth my embarrassment...

This morning we had breakfast with friends at Cracker Barrel.  Then we went to Lowe's and Wal-mart.  Then we gathered with friends for story time at the library.  Afterwards, we met for lunch at the Sub Shop.  Now I am in my office writing this blog, while my boys are watching television.

That's what we've done today.

And I'm totally counting it as a day of school.

I know it sounds like a completely unproductive, all-fun, no-education day.  And at the beginning of our school year, I would totally agree.

But today, I would argue that point...

They played Checkers at Cracker Barrel.  That's educational, right?  Math (circles, squares), Science (ummm...  surely there's something scientific about Checkers), Critical Thinking (Oh come on.  You can't argue that one.  Checkers is definitely critical thinking).  So Math, Science, Critical Thinking.  Check, check, check.

They had story time at the library.  Reading (Mrs. Robin read to them), Art (They painted strawberry pictures).  Check, check.

They ate lunch with their friends.  Now isn't everyone always saying homeschool kids need social interaction?  Social Studies.  Check.

Right now they are watching Disney's Kickin' It.  Hmmm...  how can I make that educational?  Afternoon Activity?  Yes!  Afternoon Activity.  Check.

So all we've missed is Spelling and Writing.  Wait a minute...  

...   ...   ...

Okay.  I just made them spell "writing".  So we've covered both items there.  Spelling.  Writing.  Check.  Check.

And you thought they didn't learn anything today.  Don't you feel silly?

...

You see, I've reached that point in the school year where I am so burnt-out on our learning routine.  I am just trying to survive.  And I am just desperate enough to justify my educational choices for today.   Don't judge me!

I'm tired of talking about plants, and communities, and writing, and multiplication.  I just want to take a nap.

...

So...  in my own defense...

I can tell you that we've finished our Science and Social Studies curriculums for the year.  Those are the most fun. 

Handwriting.  Bryson is good with his handwriting.  Camden...  I don't want to talk about it.

Math is pretty much done.  It's just review stuff from here on.

Writing.  Ah Writing.  Writing is my arch-nemesis.  I know that is ironic, considering I love to write more than anything else.  What can I say?  It's much easier to do it than to teach it.  So I've pretty much given up on writing for this year.  Don't worry.  I'll try again next year.  Eventually I'll get it right.  I hope...

That leaves us with Language Arts and Spelling.  We're on Unit 8 out of 10.  Ugh...

...

On paper, we've still got five weeks of school.  Mentally, I am so done.

That's how I know it's May.

...



Seeds of Faith - inspired by Elisha Skeen

Romans 8:1
There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus, who walk not after the flesh, but after the Spirit.

As moms - and in this case, as homeschool moms, - I think we try so hard to be perfect.  And when things don't go perfectly, we feel ashamed.  

Take comfort in knowing that God does not condemn you for skipping Spelling.  Or for counting Checkers as your Math activity.  



Yesterday was Teacher Appreciation Day.  I hope you told yourself you are doing a great job.  :)

What I Know About Thyroid Issues

I think the hardest thing about suffering from thyroid issues is when the world looks at you, they can't see there is anything wrong.  I'm sure this is the case with other sicknesses as well.  But my thyroid began betraying me about eight years ago, so I can speak from experience concerning the struggles that follow.

I didn't remember how alone I felt during that first year following my diagnosis until I chatted with a friend who just recently learned that she too is experiencing thyroid mishap.  She sat across from me, tears streaming down her face, describing exactly how I felt, and all I could do was cry for her.   I hate to see anyone go through what I've been through..

...

My thyroid adventure led me down a path of deep depression.  But it wasn't just me who felt overwhelmed before I even got out of bed in the morning.  I dragged my husband down with me.  We went to very dark places.  Not always together.  Sometimes very far apart.

I remember my first visit to a highly recommended endocrinologist.  Our conversation went something like this...

Dr.:  How long ago did they kill your thyroid?
Me:  One year ago.
Dr.:  And they haven't gotten you regulated yet?
Me:  No.
Dr.:  And you're still married?
Me (looking to Keith, a little confused):  Yes.
Dr.:  And you haven't killed anyone?
Me (amused):  No.
Dr.:  And obviously your husband hasn't killed you.
Me: giggle, giggle
Dr.:  I'd say that's a miracle.

...


I've told you much of my thyroid story in a previous blog titled I Miss My Thyroid - http://www.braypartyof4.blogspot.com/2013/03/i-miss-my-thyroid.html.

What I didn't tell you is how it seems the world sees you...  What they say...  What they think...  How they act...  How they make you feel...

As I've said before, the hardest part of my experience was the toll it took on my family.  I was not physically, mentally, or emotionally able to love and nurture my husband or my children the way they deserved.

I requested help from friends and loved ones (food, housekeeping, child care).  My mother-in-law is a saint.  She cooked and cleaned and fed and bathed and loved and prayed for us every day.  My sister is my hero.  She took days off of work, moved in and took over, doing everything I couldn't.  My best friend is amazing.  She lived in Iowa, but coordinated meals for my family.

Let me tell you, you find out who your friends are in times like that.  You learn who you can count on.  And you realize just how kind, or how hurtful, others can be.

While some people willingly stepped up to the plate, others just didn't understand.

I was accused of "faking my symptoms."

I was told it wasn't "as bad as I made it seem."

How can you know if you haven't walked in my shoes?

People rolled their eyes, looked at me incredulously, and questioned my motives.

The most hurtful words were, "These are your children.  You need to take care of them."

I think those words hurt me the most because they were so true.  These are my children.  I do need to take care of them.  That's why this was so hard.  There is nothing I wanted more in the world than to take care of my children.  It still breaks my heart that I could not.

For it to be implied that I had abandoned my role of motherhood and had no desire to be responsible for my children...  the pain of those words literally took my breath away.

...

That was years ago.  I know now that God carried us through those times.  My marriage is stronger now than it has ever been.  And I spend every moment I possibly can loving and nurturing my children.

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I'm saying all that to say this...

If you know someone who suffers from hypothyroidism, I encourage you to pray for them.  They don't look sick.  They don't look tired.  They don't look unhealthy.  But trust me when I tell you, they are exhausted.

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Seeds of Faith - inspired by Elisha Skeen

The world doesn't know the struggles you face.  But God does.

Tell Him when you are tired.  Tell Him when you are overwhelmed.  He will lift you up.  He will give you strength.

Psalm 28:7
The Lord is my strength and my shield;
    in him my heart trusts, and I am helped;
my heart exults,
    and with my song I give thanks to him.

Five Things I've Learned from Six Smelly Chickens

Soooo...  if you've been reading my Facebook posts, you've gotten a glimpse into the feathered chaos that has both frightened and entertained me over the last month.  They're called chickens.  Or as I call them - Omelet #1, 2, 3, 4, 5, & 6.  OR when they make me mad, I call them...  well...   never mind...

I probably shouldn't put that in writing anyway.  Most people think I'm sweet and may have a hard time picturing me that angry.

Except for my sisters.  They still talk about our childhood days and how my temper would flare when my hair wouldn't cooperate.  They had to watch out for flying hairbrushes.  FYI ~ I don't do that anymore.  ;)

And my husband, who has finally figured out that he shouldn't tell an angry Marci to calm down.  It only makes it worse.

Aaaanyway, I digress.

So about four weeks ago, my husband brought home a big box filled with six baby female chicks.  I know what you're thinking.  Awwwww...  baby chicks...  how cute...

No.  No, no, no, no, no.

You see, I've spent four weeks with these chickens.  FOUR WEEKS!

I'm educated now.  Let me tell you what I've learned...

1.  If you feed them, they will poo.
The box my husband brought home also contained newspaper, chicken food, water, a heat lamp, and these tiny little splotches of chicken poo.  You know how most things are cute when they're tiny?  Well, no matter how tiny they are, piles of chicken poo are never cute.   And just because they are small, doesn't mean they don't smell.

2.  If you heat them, they will grow... and poo.
Like all babies, chicks need warmth.  So if you're not going to provide them with a mama hen, you must provide them with a heat lamp.  However, this not only serves as a source of warmth.  Apparently it also encourages their growth.  And the bigger the chicks, the bigger the piles of stinky, smelly poo.

3.  If you hold them, they will scream.... and poo.
From the moment I first saw them, I had no desire to hold them in my hand.  Does this make me abnormal?  I don't know.  But my youngest son, Camden, really wanted to hold them.  And I could always tell the second he picked one of them up.  You know that moment in scary movies when the pretty girl is about to get chopped up into tiny pieces and she lets out this deafening scream that makes you cover your ears and hide your eyes?  Imagine that sound coming from a chicken.  It's actually kinda funny when I put it that way.  Heeheehee...  Of course, the downside is a scary Camden = more chicken poo.

4.  If you move them, they will fly...  and poo.
Of course, all the piles of stinky, smelly poo in the bottom of the box need to be cleaned out on a daily basis (sometimes twice a day, depending on how many times Camden picks them up).  So, I had to move the chickens to a different box, in order to get the gross, disgusting, yucky newspapers out of their original box.  One day, while I was in the midst of this process, one brave little chicken decided to "be like Mike" and fly out of the box.  She proudly sat on the side of the box.  And I'm pretty sure she was smiling.  I reacted as any normal human would.  I screamed like a baby girl, then pushed her back in the box.  But not before she managed to poo on my laundry room floor.  That's probably why she was smiling.  The little biddy.  :)

5.  There's only room for one female in this house.  
For three and a half weeks, I got up every morning, cleaned the box, changed the water and added food for those six smelly chickens.  All the while, they are pecking my hands, pooing on my floor and calling me names.  I couldn't understand them, but I'm sure they weren't saying nice things.  It didn't take me long to figure out, there is only room for one female in this house.  So I conveniently scheduled a four-day visit to my sister's house this week, thereby requiring my husband to do the "chicken chores" every morning...

And when I came home...

those chickens had been moved outside to the chicken coop.

In your face, chickens!

...

People always say that God will not give you more than you can handle.

I believe this is true.  God will not give us more than we can handle.

But I think life gives us more than we can handle.

It dumps heavy (sometimes smelly) loads on our shoulders that often weigh more than what we alone can carry.   We stumble.  We fall.  We cry.  We run away to our sister's house.  And then somehow we find the strength and the courage to get back up again.  That's when, whether we realize it or not, God is carrying us.

Isaiah 41:10
Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.

I am so thankful God has carried me through these last four weeks.  Those chickens should be thankful too.

:)

Marci the Builder

About four months ago, I started building a wall.  I began laying down bricks, applying mortar, and stacking them up.

I didn't realize until today just how big it had gotten.

(It's not a real wall.  It's a metaphor.  Stay with me.  You'll understand.)

People usually build walls to keep things out - to separate themselves from something, or someone.  I have been building a wall to keep reality away.  I don't like reality.  It's cruel.  It's harsh.  And it hurts.

...

Last December, I got an early morning phone call from my friend and neighbor, Elisha Skeen.  She knows I like to sleep in, so when I heard her shaky voice say, "Hey" - not a "good morning" or "how are you doing" kind of "hey".  Just "hey".  I knew something was wrong.

I thought maybe her two-year-old son was sick, or maybe her car wouldn't start.  I never expected her to tell me she had been in the emergency room because of headaches.  Or that they had found lesions on her brain.  Or that her cancer was back.  "It's not good," she said, "but I wanted you to hear it from me, not on Facebook."

"That sucks, Elisha.  That really sucks.  I am so sorry this is happening to you."  That's what I said.  As good as I am at writing, the best thing I could come up with is That sucks.  

It did suck.  It still sucks.

...

That's when I started building my wall.

Later that week, I googled "brain lesions following breast cancer".  There was no good news.  So I laid more bricks.

She ended up in the hospital, underwent brain surgery, lost her hair again, messed up her vision, missed her son, strengthened her faith, encouraged her husband, loved her family, stood up to cancer, inspired thousands of people, and moved to Heaven.  All the while she trusted God and prayed to God and praised God.

I trusted God too.  I prayed to God too.  I praised God too.

But I kept building my wall.

...

It's been three weeks since Elisha died.

I stopped crying about a week after it happened.  Since then, I have felt sorta numb.

I think it's because of my wall.  I kinda got carried away with all the bricks.

You can't see my wall.  But I know it's there.

My husband knows it's there too.  He recognizes the bricks - shopping, eating out, visiting my sister, going out with my cousin, computer time, reading, watching TV - anything to keep me from having to face the fact that she is gone.

It's easier to focus on something else, anything else, than it is to deal with reality.

...

I was listening to K-LOVE radio today, and 10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman came on...

Bless the Lord, O my soul
O o o my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
Worship Your holy name

This song was played at the end of Elisha's funeral.

I started to sing along, and I thought about the last time we spoke.  About the last time we texted.  About the last time I saw her.

I miss her.

I miss someone else, too.  I miss God. 

While I have continued to pray, continued to trust, continued to read, continued to go to church, continued to praise, continued to love...  I haven't felt close to God in a very long time.

My wall not only separated me from the hurt of losing Elisha, but it also separated me from my personal relationship with God.

And I miss Him.

...

So I'm getting out of the wall-building business.  

I've got more important things to focus on.  Like how blessed I am to have known Elisha.  How blessed I am to be able to help Steven and Sawyer.  How blessed I am to be alive.

And how God is good.  All the time.  

The Bible says in Matthew 11:28 ~
Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

I'm tired of building.  

Those bricks are heavy; and (as my husband would say) those bricks are expensive. 

I'm not a builder anyway.  I'm a farmer.  :)


...

To hear 10,000 Reasons (Bless the Lord) by Matt Redman, click here...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DXDGE_lRI0E

I want to be a farmer too.

My husband and I went to Elisha's funeral on Friday.  I have never been to a funeral where I left feeling better than I had when I arrived.  But isn't it just like Elisha to have a funeral like that.

When we walked in, there were three screens running through a collage of pictures dating back to her childhood.  We were provided a glimpse into the past, when she was young with long dark hair, and big brown eyes.  The family included some humorous photos that made everyone chuckle when they came on the screen.  We watched her grow up right before our eyes.

Her preacher was emotional, as is expected considering he, like so many of us, prayed diligently and believed she would be healed.  What he said, that stuck with me the most, was he is just as disappointed as the rest of us that it had come to this - Elisha being in Heaven, instead of here on Earth.  He didn't try to explain how or why this happened.  He stood there and mourned for her, just like the rest of us were doing.  For some reason, I found that comforting.

Her brother-in-law, Cole...  Wow.  Now he brought the whole room to tears the moment he started speaking.  Or trying to speak.  He couldn't get his first few words out because he was so overcome with grief.  It was heartbreaking.  But then he began to tell us how awesome Elisha was.  And you could feel the tears begin to fade into smiles, and giggles.  Happy memories began to push away the grief.  At least for a little while.

He read from her blog.  (http://elisha-everthesame.blogspot.com/)  I thought this was genius.  What better way to comfort those who love her than with her own words...

"I can look back and see God's hand on my life the entire time. 

The devil is good at what he does. He really is. He came to steal, kill and destroy. He wants to steal my joy, kill my body, destroy my family, my relationships, my life even. I'm happy to tell him, He's a big, fat failure. It's just not going to happen. 

My decision is to live my life. Regardless of what ... good news or bad news is given to me ... I am going to live for Jesus. I really do give my life to him. I am going to keep on, keeping on. I will be joyful. I will stand by my God. I will keep trying to show his love to others with how I live my life. I will live my entire life thanking God for my family, my blessings. I'm going to live my life praising God until the last breath my body takes.

I don't care if cancer kills me in a year, 10 years, whatever. If I die, I want ya'll to tell people, Yes, she died, but the devil still didn't win.  I refuse to be continually discouraged.  Jesus loves me, he died for my sins, so I could have eternal life. His mercies (thankfully) are new every day. He wants me to be encouraged, uplifted, joyful, thankful, happy. And that's what I'm going to be. The devil may succeed in ruining a few days now and then. But he will not win over my life.

I know there is a plan for me. Jesus has had his eye on me from the very beginning, even when I was just a little peanut, before my birth, in my mama's womb. He had good plans. He has given me a wonderful life, filled with love and amazing people. I have the soul mate I've always dreamed of. I have a beautiful little boy, if I do say so myself. My decision is to enjoy what I've been blessed with, focus on the positive in my life, and keep trying to be the best I can be. 

In totally submitting my life to Jesus, I will answer whatever calling is on my life. If I'm to witness through this blog, if I'm to write a book, if I'm just to give others inspiration with my story, whatever it is, I'm going to do it. The devil picked the wrong girl and he seriously underestimated me and he underestimated my God if he thinks what's happening to me is going to ruin me. It's not. I'm not ruined. In fact, I'm stronger and more uplifted than ever. 

This post may be a little bit all over the place, and it might be weird to some reading this, but I've got to say, it's from my heart. I am simply refusing to give in and let this mess over take me. I may have rough days, and I know we all do from time to time. But I'm making the decision to praise God and be thankful regardless of my circumstance. 

I'm deciding to put all my trust and faith in the Lord, it's the safest place I can be."

Cole shared some texts Elisha had sent to her sister, Karen, about a message she had heard at church one Sunday.  Her preacher talked about our role in bringing others to Christ.  Following that service, Elisha and her husband, Steven, had a discussion in which she told him that she'd never led anyone to the Lord.  Steven told her she was wrong.  She had led him to the Lord.

Wow.  How awesome is that?  I think everyone was truly moved, just imagining that moment of realization for her.  She had brought her husband into a personal relationship with Jesus.  I wonder if everyone else was thinking what I was thinking.  "Who have I led to the Lord?"

In closing, Cole told us that Elisha saw herself as "a farmer".  Everyone laughed, assuming she was referring to the fact that she lived on a chicken farm.  But that's not what she meant.  She realized that, through her blog, she was touching lives, and telling people about Jesus.  She was planting seeds of faith into the hearts of every person who read her words.  She was a farmer.

...

Elisha used to tell me that I am brave.  Because of the things I write about on my blog.  Which is mostly all about me.

Me?  Brave?  This coming from the girl who faced breast cancer, chemotherapy, hair loss, sickness, radiation, etc.

I'm not brave.

I just like to write.

Writing about myself is not brave.  Writing about myself is safe.  No one can get upset with me for the things I say about myself.  Except me.  That's not brave at all.

Elisha was probably one of the biggest fans of my blog.  She loved every thing I wrote.  She would text me after most every post to let me know she read it, and she loved it.  She even shared some of my posts on her Facebook page.

When she would write a blog post, she would always send a text to let me know.  I think my response to every post started off with these three words - "I love it!"  Because I did.  I loved every thing she wrote.  Her posts were awesome.  Her words were always powerful, touching your heart and staying with you for days.

...

My posts always tell a story, providing insight into my life, my heart, and my mind.

Elisha's posts inspired, uplifted, encouraged, and always pointed to God.

...

It makes me sad to realize she won't be writing any more posts.  Her blog touched so many more people than mine ever will.

I want my blog to be more like Elisha's blog.

Perhaps I should try to incorporate some of Elisha's blogging methods into my future writings.  I can tell a story, which is what I do best, and then find a way to point it back to God.  To honor her memory, I will try to inspire, uplift and encourage.

Elisha was a farmer.  I want to be a farmer too.