About Me

My photo
I am ambitious, hardworking, creative, athletic and spiritual. I usually have a full time job in Medical Sales, but am currently unemployed due to COVID-19. I am a wife and mother. I am an RN and graduate of both Baylor University and Charleston Southern University. I prefer the mountains over the beach and love traveling. I currently reside in Birmingham, Alabama.

Friday, August 21, 2020

The Day They Cancelled Football

My 10 year old son's school essay on a difficult time he experienced, in his words:

A Difficult Time: the day they cancelled football

A time that I had to push through something that was hard was when football was cancelled because of COVID-19.  COVID-19 ruined school and sports, because we could not get together.  I was disappointed that the other teams refused to play. So I went to play for another team that was called The Shelby County Wildcats.  

The reason it was hard and got worse is because some of the 5th and 6th graders there are bigger and stronger than me.  I had to learn how to play harder and smarter.  Wyatt and my other friend Noah were the only ones that came to play with me from Chelsea.  I was nervous and didn't know anyone.  I am still getting used to the colors changing from blue and white to black and red.  

My new coach says a chant that pretty much sums it up for me.  "Determination beats frustration!  Determination beats pain!  Determination makes me who I am! Play hard! Fight hard! Hit Hard!  Never Quit!" I kept playing because it was still fun.  I have learned new things from the coaches. I am now a starter and fit in just fine. I love it here now and they are my brothers. 


Monday, May 11, 2020

The View From My Window

Pandemic.  Quarantine.  Isolation.  Social Distancing. Home Schooling.  Unemployment.  I did not anticipate any of these words being a part of my life or vocabulary in 2020, nor did I really know what they would mean to me as time progressed.

I lost my job two weeks before the State of Alabama and school systems shut down.  I use the word "lost" for a reason.  I lost something I had poured my heart and soul into for almost 9 years.  I helped over 200 hospitals in 43 states keep their doors open in rural communities.  I was one of very few females in my company that had worked their way up successfully.  I am a type A personality, quite ambitious and tend to thrive under pressure as far as performance goes, but suffer with anxiety if an imbalance in my priorities or moral code occurs. I am first and foremost a wife, a mother, a Christian and an athlete.  If work ever were to take these from me or threaten them, I get uneasy.  All of these became threatened.  I submitted my resignation after one of my superiors asked me to do something unethical.  I could no longer be a part of an organization, in which I no longer believed in it's leadership.  It was constantly wearing on my soul.  While taking a spiritual assessment test at my Church (Church of the Highlands) during the Pandemic, I discovered that one of my spiritual gifts is "the gift of discernment," defined as the divine strength or ability to spiritually identify falsehood and to distinguish between right and wrong motives in situations. I felt this like a hot iron on my skin when certain men in this company spoke to me.  Therefore, I left a company that I once loved with no job to replace it.  I have worked for 21 years straight. Now, I was without work. Without a plan.

It took me two weeks to calm down and not send out resumes.  Then one morning, during quarantine, I stopped and took this photo while sitting on my front porch.



It's nothing spectacular or special to most, but to me, it is impactful.  Has extraordinary meaning in my life.  God pressed the pause button on my life.  And I could now clearly see the view.

There are terrible things happening in our country and across the world. I am not diminishing the struggles, pain or fear that many are experiencing.  But for me it was like hitting a speed bump at 50 miles an hour and landing at a resort.  I could finally breathe, think, cook, clean, educate, read, decorate, exercise, garden, read my bible and love others without distraction for a brief moment I will treasure forever.

The "View From My Window" has included the following:

1. Noah learned to ride a bike at 10 years old.  All 120 lbs. of him.  He always refused, showed no interest, cried and was frustrated.  This was his 3rd bike in his lifetime.  Two failures.  And now a win.  Daily lessons to try to teach him. The day he rode off was amazing.  Now he asks to go riding constantly.  I will never forget this orange shirt and his proud smile.  A simple accomplishment for most was a challenge for him.  He overcame it.

2. We began to train and run 5Ks for medals. Fitness is my therapy. Noah has gotten conditioned like I have never seen him before.  He is going to be a force for football season; I warn you!  We do this daily for P.E., sometimes subbing in weight training or a bike ride at times.  It is precious time together with my son.  He talks to  me in these quiet moments discovering waterfalls and off beaten paths.  If you get this quiet child alone, he will talk your ear off.

3. I began gardening again.  Something I love to do.   Planting tomatoes, flowers, and azaleas.  And I did not care that the red clay took me 30 minutes to plant one Azalea.  It was time I treasured.  And I remembered to water them this time around!  I planted special milkweed flowers for the endangered Monarch butterflies.  Butterflies abound now.  As do hummingbirds. Even "Bob Ross" made an appearance.


4. I put my birdfeeders back out. Bird watching has always been something I loved.  Work would always get in the way. Or the dog would tear them down.  I always forgot to fill them up.  Now, they are filled and well maintained, beside my front porch.  I watch hummingbirds, blue birds, cardinals, woodpeckers, butterflies, chipmunks and squirrels come to my porch and garden. It is wonderful.

5. I cleaned out my house finding and therefore preserving precious memories.  I hung up Noah's art work over the years and framed them.  I had a quilt made of all of Noah's old sports jerseys. I put value on what mattered to me and took those items and made them last in something I could have forever.


6. I became and stay at home mom with joy and appreciation. I cooked, I cleaned, I did laundry, I washed the dog, I educated. I felt so lucky to be able to do these things without distraction for my first time in my life.  Cooking was fun now.  The clean laundry and being able to find socks was great.  The calmness of a decluttered world created a peaceful place to rest my head at night.  I believe in some ways, this is how God created our families to be.  A time gone past.  Now it almost is required to have two income families.  I long to go back to the times when one could work and one could stay home, in some ways.  I am grateful for a strong husband who leads and provides for our family during this time.  He is our rock.

7. God became a priority.  I only missed one church service since this has started.  Thank goodness for technology in this moment.   I started the "Growth Track" at my church, which I never thought I  had time to do before (of course, my priorities were just out of whack).  I found out many things I knew about myself and many things I did not!  I started a goal planner book Pastor Chris recommended.  I am looking up joining a small group.  I am reading my bible and devotionals and praying more.  Looking forward to serving others in the near future.

8. I learned how to make a couple of craft cocktails.  Something I have always wanted to do.  Bought the proper glasses, learned about bitters, and how to crush fresh herbs, how to shake and when not to. Moscow Mules and Refresco en Vinagre is what I have made so far.  Maybe I will learn more in the future!


9. I got to know my German Shepherd Dog (GSD) truly for the first time.  Her full name is Matilda (aka "Tilli"), which means "strength in battle" in German, but her nickname is actually Mama Bear.  This dog has pushed all my buttons.  She is fast, mischievous, powerful, loud, destructive and a pain in my butt.  She has chewed up my glasses, my hair brush, a $20 bill and my furniture.  She is stubborn, like me.  Athletic like me.  Impulsive like me.  And smart like me.  She is me in a dog form.  God was testing me, while he laughed.  He must have been thinking, "This will be a great challenge for her to tackle."  Truth is, I got her because I missed my Dad.   I lost him to cancer years ago.  My Dad owned 4 of them in my lifetime.  A German Shepherd reminds me of him.  I am sure my Dad got a kick out of watching me (from heaven) chase her as well.  During the Pandemic, I have figured her nuances out, discovered her gifts and how to meet her energy needs.  She is fiercely loyal, protective of Noah and I on our walks (that's her job), loving, hilarious, energetic, the ultimate athlete and my friend.  I have learned how to treat her like a GSD and not a basset hound (my former dog).  She is great for social distancing; no one will come within 10 feet of you on leash - she will send out a warning if they approach!  Daily leash walks were not enough.  She loves to run free in open fields, ears down and aerodynamic like an episode of Live PD.  Then, she can find the will to listen and be obedient.  She has been my comfort and companion.  I love going everywhere with her.  Her presence during this quarantine has been priceless to me.  Her eyes tell a story, deep and intelligent.  I never gave up on her, and she doesn't give up on me. We never will.



10. I stayed put.  Didn't travel. This is a tough one for me. The word "wanderlust" is me to a "t." Wanderlust is a strong desire to wander or travel and explore the world. I love to fly, drive, taxi, train to anywhere besides home.  I love different languages, new experiences, exploring different foods and cultures and going on adventures.  We cancelled the trips to Jamaica and to England we had planned for the year.   But what did I learn from this?  The simple life has value and purpose.  Our home is a precious sanctuary of safety and joy for me.  Birmingham has hidden outdoor treasures.   We discovered new trails, waterfalls, rocks and places to explore. Love is really all you need. Although adventures in the future will come, I know what home means to me.

11. Lastly and most importantly, my son Noah formally accepted Christ as his personal Savior.  On Easter Sunday, I heard him under his blanket as Pastor Chris was inviting everyone to accept Christ, whispering and repeating the words that PC was saying.  He is interested in the growth track, reading his bible, identifying his spiritual gifts and we have discussed baptism.  There is nothing greater that I wish to pass on to my child than this.   No greater accomplishment.  No greater joy.

Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.  Proverbs 22:6

God placed the pause button on our lives.  One thing I have discovered during this time is that the view from our windows is deeply personal.  Unique and Individual.  Some good, some bad.  Good days, bad days.  We all have them.  But we each have learned something if we acknowledge it.  And I wouldn't trade that for the world.  

What is the view from your window?  I would love to see your view!




Sunday, November 4, 2012

This Changes Everything.

My Dad passed away at 4:31 PM on Thursday, October 25, 2012 in the Palliative Care and Comfort Unit at UAB Medical Center 15 minutes after I left his room.  I think he wanted it this way.  My Mom was holding his face in her hands when he left us to be with Lord. He had been in a Coma since Monday, October 22nd after a 10 hour period of seizure activity we tried everything to stop.  He opened his eyes in those final moments of his wonderful life to look at my Mom as if to say, "Goodbye, I'm tired, I'll see you very soon, I love you."  And Jesus took his broken body and relieved him of his battle.  Brain Cancer tried to slowly take him from us, but it couldn't.  He is still with me, my mom and my brother.  And now He is with the Lord.  This message is only my view, my perspective on what we went through and no one else's.



Life is a progression of ups and downs and a series of awakenings.  I feel I've seen things through a series of different filters throughout my life, like wearing different lenses in a pair of glasses.  At certain times in life, I thought I had it figured out.  All of these previous filters were false, just rose colored glasses or lenses full of fog.  I couldn't see the Truth or the importance of life.  I couldn't enjoy life for what it was, in the moment, satisfied for what it was.  I was always striving or wanting to be more or have more.  Granted, I was working hard and trying to be a better person, but it was still work.

Today, after what I have been through with my family, I see the world clearly as if I have clear vision for the first time in my life.  After 4.5 years of fighting alongside my Dad, I have come to several realizations.  One, we had an extraordinary family, a rare bond despite our differences or struggles.  I never left his side, nor did they. We fought as a family, and when one of us could no longer walk, the other one would carry the weight until the other one was strong again.  Amazing, truly amazing.  Let me sum our nightmare up for you in just a few words:  diagnosis of a terminal illness, mourning the loss of life before it happened, overwhelming fear, sadness and disbelief, mourning the loss of retirement or taking trips with my mom, three major brain surgeries, numerous visits to the neuro-intensive care unit, loss of function both physical, cognitive and emotional after every surgery and treatment, constant radiation to the brain with a cage over my Dad's face, constant IV and PO chemotherapy over a 4.5 years, numerous illnesses and infections, paralysis on one side, seizures, doctors, nurses, hospitals, hospitalizations, therapy.  All of this leading to being full bedridden, wheelchair bound and requiring 24/7 help (only we didn't get help).  It was just us up until some of the final moments.  And we did so joyfully.  To serve my Dad and care for him was a true joy and a privilege. To watch someone suffer is difficult, but to watch someone you love suffer is torture.  This is how I have felt and continue to find most difficult in watching both my mom and dad, although they would never complain or ever label it suffering.  They just persevered.  Through this experience, I have come to several realizations, and what I feel are truths. 

REALIZATIONS:
1.  God Was With Us the Entire Time.  Never left us for one moment.  He sustained us.  From the moment my Dad was diagnosed, until the moment I type this note.  He is with us.  The song "Grace Flows Down" copied below speaks volumes to this point. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YWiH90AYhU

2.  Family Matters.  The love of my family is overwhelming.  I am blown away at our commitment and devotion to one another and to my Dad.  It is sort of a testimony to the kind of man he was.  He served us his entire life, giving of himself, providing and loving.  In return, we gave it all back to him.

3.  Kindness Matters.  Being kind to others is huge.  You never know what they might be going through.  I had times where I was barely walking or talking, completely distraught and a stranger would be rude.  It was as if I would look at them and say silently, "Don't you know what I'm going through?"  Be kind to others.  There were times when a small kindness of a stranger would lift me up in my lowest moment.  This happened to all of us, both good and bad.  Think before you act.

4.   Don't Sweat the Small Stuff.  Nothing really matters other than the above.  Grades, work, success in business, spilling something on a rug or on my clothes, small car accidents, acceptance, or even losing my job just didn't matter.  God will sustain me.  Relationships matter.  God matters.  Nothing else. 

5.  Life is but a Flash in the Pan.  This life is short and fleeting.  Tomorrow could be our day.  Enjoy the small things of today, the simple moments.  I see the colors of trees brighter, I hear my son's laughter louder, I smell my mom's cookies more fully, I pet my dog more often, I kiss my husband more often, I see people for who they are, not what they appear to be, I pray more often.  I will see my Dad again soon.

6.  It's ok to be sad and not be "ok."

That being said, I am not doing that great.  I am trying, but I am struggling, which I think is normal.  He was huge to us, a center, a rock and our source of comfort.  He was my dad.  I feel an empty hole in my heart, in my life and in my mom and brother's life.  It hurts to go to my Mom's house.  I miss him and expect to see him sitting there.  It hurts when I see my mom pull up and he is not in the car with her.  It hurts when I think about never touching him or hearing his voice again.  It hurts when I think that my son will not remember him.  It just hurts.  I am sad and confused.  But these moments are up and down.  I do good most of the day with little moments of down times during the day.  This song is perfect for how my heart feels, by Tamela Mann called "Take me to the King":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wU3qgPn3bGA

I am, however, in realization that my Dad was tired.  He was never going to walk again.  I never wanted him to suffer and went to all lengths to make sure they provided to him comfort, rest and peace.  I am at peace with that.  I laid on his chest in the hospital and told him everything I ever wanted to say.  I believe he heard me.  His spirit heard me.  I sat with him every day in palliative care and held his hand, prayed with him, sang to him and read to him the Bible.  I never left him.  My mom never left him.  My brother never left him.  This gives me tremendous peace.  I hope he knows how much we loved him and adored him.  I hope he is with his mom and dad and other relatives in heaven.  I hope he is sitting with Jesus.

A couple months ago, my Dad said to me "I had a dream last night about heaven."  I asked him what he dreamed.  He said he dreamed he went to heaven and asked God, "When I die, can I come shake your hand every day and talk to you?"  And God said, "You sure can.  You can do more than that.  You can give me a hug and talk to me as long as you want."  He cried as he told me this.  I know he is sitting with Jesus talking right now.  This gives me peace. 

Video of photos of my Dad and family below:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-6_5ET1rfmk

A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. Psalm 68:5

Tuesday, March 27, 2012

Not The Final Free Throw

One of my fondest memories of my Dad is playing basketball.  I grew up playing basketball with my Dad.  Everyday free-throw competitions, games of HORSE, Around the World, 3 on 3 pick up games at the gym.  We had two basketball goals at our house; it was ridiculous.  It was NCAA march madness from the day I learned to walk until my Dad got sick with brain cancer.  Even now, he calls my house during march just to talk about Baylor Basketball and complain about the teams he doesn't like. 



I have cried many times over the simple things that I will miss about him; one of those simple things is shooting free-throws with my Dad.  I have actually cried numerous times about it and I am not sure why.  It was a simple thing just between my Dad, my brother and me.  It was something that I thought I had lost forever.  Something I would miss.

Today, I went over to the house to spend time with him.  We sat on the front porch and he told me about a book he read called "Chasing Daylight".  It's an inspirational story of former KPMG CEO Eugene O'Kelley, completed in the three-and-a-half months between his diagnosis with brain cancer and his death in September 2005.   He told me it was a haunting yet hopeful story.  It spoke of how we should embrace the fragile, fleeting moments of our lives-the brief time we have with our family, our friends, and even ourselves.   He was reaching out grasping at his own moments, right there beside me.  He felt his own mortality.  I just wanted to hold on to him and him hold on to me for as long as we could.  Just one more conversation.  Just one more hug.  Just one more free throw.  I never mentioned my longing to shoot free throws with him one last time.  But I had told my husband about how it made me sad and prayed to God about it, no matter how silly that sounds.

Sitting on the porch tonight, my Dad suddenly said to me, "Do you want to shoot some free throws? Best of  ten wins!"  I knew he was too weak for this but I wanted to let him try.  My Mom was worried but I had heard his words.  This was a spiritual thing, not a physical one.  So I helped him to his feet and helped him get his balance.  I walked him down the front stoop stairs, careful not to let him fall.  His first shot was an air ball.  He couldn't shoot on a 10 foot goal anymore.  That was ok with me.  This from the man that I would watch shoot 40 free throws in a row without missing 1 shot when I was a kid.  It was amazing.  So I lowered the basket down to 8 feet.  He air-balled 4 more shots.  The 5th one went in, you know, the kind of shot where all you hear is the crisp sound of the net "swish."  My Dad said, "I love that sound."  I knew he did.  I loved it too.  And tears came into my eyes.  I had to turn away, thinking this might be the last time I would ever play basketball with my Dad. 

But I know this is not his final free throw.  Someday, I will meet him at the free throw line again.  10 Foot Rim.  We will take as many shots as we want and every shot will make that sound.  Just me and you, Dad.  I promise.  This is not your final free throw.  I love you.