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Author Archives: Janet Boxx

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About Janet Boxx

My name is Janet Boxx. I earned a Bachelor's of Science degree from Northwest Missouri State University before working at Mark Twain Bank and then Sprint. Following the birth of my fourth child, I left the business world to focus my attention on raising my family. In my lifetime, I've been inducted into two communities no one wishes to gain membership in; the special needs community and the bereaved parents society. I'm a wife, a mother and a follower of Jesus Christ. Like many of you, my life has not been a walk in the park. It's been challenging in a number of ways and has caused me to examine my beliefs, almost everything I thought I knew about God, with what His word actually says about Him. I'm comfortable with my struggle, but well, I'm afraid that other believers may not be comfortable with my confrontational approach as I question and search for understanding. I am in desperate need of real answers, real truth, and am a big believer in authenticity. Therefore, I'm not known to "drink the kool-aid" so to speak. I hate platitudes and simplistic answers to complicated issues. I believe the Bible is the inspired, infallible word of God, and that every word is "profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness" just as 2 Timothy 3:16 proclaims. Heaven knows I don't always get it right, and at times I concede that I cannot find an answer, and choose to trust that the Holy Spirit will reveal it in time or that He will enable me to find peace in spite of my questions. As a result, I'm open to others questioning my conclusions, I just ask that they aren't worded as an attack but instead by pointing me to another scripture and asking me to consider it in light of the conclusions I've drawn. A little background may help you understand my blog posts, so here is my life in a nutshell. I married my husband, David, in 1987. Our son, Cole, was stillborn on Father's Day, June 21, 1992. We went on to have three beautiful daughters. Bethany was born in November of 1993, Gracen in December of 1995, and Katie arrived in October of 1997. We noticed some developmental concerns when Gracen was about a year of age. Katie developed similar issues around her first birthday as well. Their physical issues were minor and the pediatrician was not concerned. But as Gracen and Katie grew, the physical issues became more pronounced, affecting both their fine and gross motor functions which impacted daily life and learning. Fifteen years and multiple and doctors and tests later, in the spring of 2012, we finally received a diagnosis. Gracen and Katie had been born with a rare form of Muscular Dystrophy. ARSACS is a progressive neuromuscular disease. The prognosis was not pretty and we were devastated. I had so hoped a diagnosis would lead to a cure - a medication or treatment that would give the girls a normal life. During that fifteen year time span, Gracen also developed chronic daily migraine headaches. Life was challenging to say the least. The day after Christmas 2013, life got harder. As we returned home from celebrating Christmas with family, our van was involved in a three-vehicle collision. Bethany and Katie died that afternoon. My first blog post was written a few months later, in March of 2014. I've edited that post in order to correct minor details that I was unaware of when it was originally written and posted on Facebook. Otherwise, it remains as it was. My hope is that my posts will serve to validate the feelings of others who are struggling with difficult circumstances and trying to assimilate their feelings and beliefs, as they too, try to hold on, get through, and avoid bitterness. So welcome to our world. Join me as I continue to live life in the Refiner's fire. In and out I go as God allows the dross to rise and be swept away until He can see His reflection as He looks upon me. Please share your thoughts (speaking the truth in love) and let iron sharpen iron as we banter back and forth as we each struggle our way through this life until God calls us home. Janet

Just Stand Up

For the hard days . . . When you need a hero . . . A miracle . . . He lives within you – His strength is perfected in your weakness – that’s how you become your own miracle – the Holy Spirit’s all sufficient grace at work within!

Just Stand Up (partial lyrics)

“The heart is stronger
Than you think
It’s like it can go
Through anything
And even when you think
It can’t it finds a way
To still push on
Though

Sometimes
You want to run away
Ain’t got the patience
For the pain
And if you
Don’t believe it
Look into
Your heart
The beat goes on

I’m tellin’ you
Things get better
Through
Whatever
If you fall
Dust it off
Don’t let up
Don’t you know
You can go
Be your own miracle
You need to know

Chorus:
If the mind
Keeps thinking
You’ve had enough
But the heart
Keeps telling you
Don’t give up
Who are we to be
Questioning
Wondering what is what
Don’t give up
Through it all
Just stand up”

(Facebook Post 10/8/15)

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2015 in Links, Music

 

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Art Form Analogy

kintsugi3kintsugi2kintsuti1kintsugi4

Follow the link in red! Follow the Link! You’ll be glad you did!

How to Find Beauty in Brokenness

Loved the analogy of the Japanese art form, Kintsugi. What a beautiful picture of what God does in a broken believer’s heart and life.

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2015 in Faith, Links

 

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Spiritually Wounded After Loss | Wild Feathers Wellness

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Last weekend we took a little family road trip, and some things just happen in car rides. Who can explain it? Maybe it is the absence of distractions, presence of intimate spacing and of course, time. I love road trips for this reason.

On the way home, I found myself in a full-blown meltdown in conversation with my husband. It wasn’t what he was saying, it’s what I wasn’t saying. It was what I was afraid of admitting. How far I had drifted. How my heart had grown cold, and nobody knew it, not really. I convinced myself since I had found “happy” again, my kids were healthy, and I wasn’t falling apart every week; things were okay. I was okay. But being “okay” can have a thousand different definitions. Grieving people know that best, I think.

(Click on the link in red below to read the full article.)

http://http://www.wildfeatherswellness.com/spiritually-wounded-after-loss/

Comments to the above article from my Facebook post 9/9/15:

Ah yes, the spiritual wounds lurking beneath or hiding among the deep grief, sorrow and pain of loss. I’m amazed this woman managed to partition out that portion of her heart whereas I have constantly wrestled with how to address reconciling my spiritual wounds and the damage done to my relationship with Christ. Psalm 139:7-12 expresses the comfort and the torment inherent in God’s constant presence well:

7 Where can I go from Your Spirit?
Or where can I flee from Your presence?

8 If I ascend to heaven, You are there;
If I make my bed in Sheol, behold, You are there.

9 If I take the wings of the dawn,
If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,

10 Even there Your hand will lead me,
And Your right hand will lay hold of me.

11 If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me,
And the light around me will be night,

12 Even the darkness is not dark to You,
And the night is as bright as the day.
Darkness and light are alike to You.”

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2015 in Faith, Grief, Links

 

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Uncovering Unknown Issues of the Heart

(Facebook Post 7/26/15)
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I made a personal discovery today, or maybe God revealed it to me. It has left me feeling even more emotionally fragile than I was before. I discovered that I know a lot about God from an intellectual standpoint. I discovered that I know a lot of scripture, even if I can’t associate the Bible reference with most of them. But I also discovered that I don’t “feel” the most basic of Biblical truths; at least in regards to myself. What is this truth that has left me reeling? This truth I know in my head but not in my heart? This truth that staggered me to the very core of my being when I finally became aware of it? This is the truth that knock my feet out from under me: God loves you, Janet.

Now, I can’t count the number of times I’ve sat in sanctuaries and auditoriums and heard how “it’s not about emotional responses.” That we can’t always trust our feelings – which is why we rely on scripture. I certainly understand that argument on an intellectual level. I do. I get it and I’ve practiced it. When my heart’s been decimated, I’ve clung to the truth that my circumstances are not a reflection of God’s feelings toward me. I’ve held fast to the teaching that God is sovereign but that man has free will. I’ve believed that God doesn’t cause bad things to happen but that He does allow them to happen. I’ve trusted that He never leaves me, that He walks through the bad stuff with me, that He uses the bad stuff to refine my faith and conform me into the imagine of Christ and to somehow use that testimony to bring the lost to salvation; that I’m a tool in the Master’s hand used to bring Him glory.

But somewhere along the way my understanding has become warped. All the losses and the role disease has played in our family is all intertwined with my faith. I’m messed up. If the purpose of my life is to bring glory to God and if God allows me to be hurt over and over solely for the purpose of conforming me into Christ’s image and to bring Him glory through obedience, service and evangelism, without any regard for my emotional and psychological well-being, then we aren’t describing a God of love, we are describing a self-serving or an ego-maniacal God and that, of course, is in complete opposition to scripture.

So, I know I’ve gotten it wrong somewhere along the way. Maybe I simply accepted the easiest answer to explain God’s sovereignty because I needed an explanation, a purpose, when no real answer could be found. God rarely answers the why question, so I found one I could attribute to an overall grand design. But I can no longer cling to this idea that all this pain is for my good or that it’s justified for another’s salvation. I need to “feel” God’s love for me, not just know He loves me in my head. Otherwise, I’m left feeling as if I’m expendable for the benefit of others. That God loves others more than He loves me. That I’m little more than a means to an end and that the pain it all causes me is not of concern to God. If His purpose is simply to conform me or lead the lost to Christ, then I don’t feel individually cherished or worthy, or precious in His sight. I feel used – that I’m being conformed into a Christian Stepford Wife. I think that is why the idea that some ministry might rise from the ashes of Bethany and Katie’s deaths, from Gracen’s injuries and progressive disease, has been so repulsive to me.

The logical part of my being recognizes that God loves me but I can’t reconcile my theology and my reality. I can’t feel it in my heart – I need to experience His love for myself instead of simply reading about it in the Bible. And I don’t know how to go about it – I’m not even sure there is anything I can do about it. I need the Holy Spirit to do it – to change my heart so that I can experience the depth, width, height and breadth of His love.

I can’t even describe how broken I am, how tired I feel. I’ve got no words to enable another to understand the prison that my brain has become. The ache, the hollowness left in my heart – the utter and complete devastation not just for what has already happened but for what is yet to come. I don’t know how many more blows I can take, because I’m not fending them off, I’m taking them on the chin.

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I’m worried about sending Gracen off to college but I’ve come to realize it is something we both need. She needs to experience it and I want her to as well. I feel so selfish saying this, but I need a break – Not from Gracen! – I need a break from the constant reminders of the collision. From the visceral response I have to seeing or hearing that wheelchair coming down the hall. From the things I now do for Gracen that she used to do for herself. It’s about the tasks and lost health resulting from her disease and the wreck – not Gracen, herself. It’s about all the unpleasant changes that have happened to the child I love more than life itself endlessly assaulting my heart and mind.

It’s relentless. I just can’t escape it so that I can somehow work it out and live with it. Not just living without bitterness but actually continuing to survive the emotional, spiritual and physical destruction. Oh to be able to escape, to flee from it all if not permanently then temporarily so that I can catch my breath and get my feet back under me. So that I can quiet the constantly striving voices in my mind. So I can find some peace. I’m so desperate for a little bit of peace!

Realizing that I struggle with one of the foundational truths of Christianity may have come as a shock to me, but it certainly wasn’t to God and dare I say that I’m not alone. My struggle is little more than an age old reflection of Psalm 42:1, “As the deer pants for the water brooks, so my soul pants for You, O God.” Our human hearts long to know and experience intimacy with God. It explains our existence and gives us purpose. Intimacy with God ultimately reveals who we really are to ourselves. I’m more than a product of nature and nurture and life experience. According to the Bible I was designed with intention. I think I know myself so well, but the truth is that God knows me far better because I am His unique creation. So it stands to reason that in order to know myself better, I have to draw closer to my creator.

I’m missing the emotional component that creates a personal connection with God. I need to feel as if there is some distinct quality about me personally that allows me to have a relationship with Him that He has with no other person spanning all of creation. I need to feel as if I’m not a Christian Stepford Wife, that I’m not easily expendable for others but that while in the process of conforming me into Christ’s image and leading the lost to salvation that anything God allows to happen in my life is only allowed out of love for me individually, not at me expense, but only for the love of Janet. I know that’s true; it’s scriptural, but I need that truth to permeate my heart as well as my mind.

I’m hoping the Holy Spirit will brake down the self-protective walls I’ve built within my own heart when God didn’t behave as I expected Him to. The walls of justification I created to anesthetize the pain that came from feeling disappointed and even betrayed by the God I thought I knew. I need those walls to come down so that I can clearly see, experience and feel God’s love the way He always intended. I need more of God and I need Him to provide it because only He can. So, I continue to wait on the Lord for His revelation of Himself, at the time I’m most ready and able to receive Him. When He has been able to quiet me with His love, so that I can hear His still small voice and I can comprehend the height, width, depth, and breadth of His love for me. Scripture promises me that that’s His desire for me so I know it’s not a vain hope. And that’s a great comfort amidst so much angst and uncertainty.

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Posted by on October 22, 2015 in Chronic Illness, Faith, Grief, Muscular Dystrophy

 

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Trauma, Spirituality & Suffering

I came across this article, “Spirituality and Suffering Through the Four Phases of Change” by Patricia A. Fennell, back in April of this year. Reader be warned – it’s a professional abstract, so its designated audience was not intended to include non-professionals outside the field of psychology. But it’s readable and informative and answers a question I’ve been struggling to put into words, let alone internalize the resulting answer. You see, I’ve been wondering how the average person’s faith is affected by trauma, especially when a person experiences a series traumas. I guess I want to know what a “normal” Christian response to trauma is and how far from the norm I fall.

There’s a lot of information available about how people cope with grief or trauma individually but I wanted to know how those things specifically affect a person’s faith and for me, personally, how it affects a person’s relationship with Christ. I think we tend to lump those things together, since, for the Christian, a relationship with Christ is the foundation of faith. However, I have found in the wake of our accident, that my core beliefs have not changed, but how I interact with Christ has been impacted.

Regardless, I thought some of you might be interested in this article because you have suffered through your own traumas or because you care deeply about someone who has had that experience. Maybe it will help someone to know that how they feel is completely normal and maybe it will help a friend or family member feel less fearful as they watch a loved one wrestle with their beliefs.

So, I hope this article blesses someone out there this Memorial Day – the day set aside to acknowledge and appreciate the ultimate sacrifice made by the men and women who protect our country and preserve our freedoms.

(Facebook Post 05/25/15)

Just click on the link in red below to go to the article.

http://www.albanyhealthmanagement.com/GC-Spirituality-2012-paper.pdf

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2015 in Faith, Links

 

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I Hate That Verse! (Gasp)


(Originally published on Facebook on 11/25/14)

I have to admit, I hate this verse and I’m not alone. Romans 8:28 can be a thorn in the flesh to a grieving heart. Actually, it’s not the verse I hate – it’s the way we brandish it about. When grief is fresh – when it is a raw, throbbing ache in the heart of a believer, this verse stings – like salt rubbed into an open wound. While we realize it is true, it often “feels” trite. Those who mourn need a little time for the wound to scab over. Time to recognize God’s faithfulness in the midst of the storm. Time to gain a broader perspective, in order to embrace this verse and the encouragement it is intended to offer.

Maybe enough time has passed. I’ve certainly seen God’s faithfulness. Not so sure I’ve really gained a broader perspective as of yet, but this verse, in this moment anyway, doesn’t sting so much. (Although it still might not be a good one to share with me for the next six months or so).

Maybe it’s less offensive in print than when it’s spoken. When I encounter it in print there’s no need to school my features should it fall on a less receptive heart at that particular moment in time. When spoken in conversation, well, there’s an audience present to judge and evaluate my response, and that audience always has an expectation that I will whole-heartedly agree. But those who grieve live with rapidly shifting emotions. Up and down, moments of overwhelming thankfulness to God followed by despair and feelings of abandonment. In terms virtually every woman can relate to (men not so much and thank your lucky stars for that!), I’d describe it as emotional & spiritual PMS. There are concepts I admittedly wrestle with before embracing. Sometimes I enter a cycle where I struggle with a concept, embrace it only to bump up against it again and begin to struggle my way through it once more. Maybe God is spoon feeding it to me in bite-sized pieces so I can chew and swallow without choking. Regardless, there are times when my response to a Biblical truth runs counter to expectation. I will often school my features in those moments for a number of reasons – most common of all though is to avoid becoming the object of gossip. I don’t believe grief was ever intended to be a spectator sport and armchair quarterbacks are no more appreciated on this field of play than they are in any other arena.

But I’ve drifted from my intended purpose, the curse of verbal processor (or the ADD thinker as you may prefer to think of me).

What I intended to say is that this blog post, You Can Never be Undone, is a good read. Ann Voskamp has a gift for weaving a message around one or two concise and profound sentences – basically giving me a sound bite I can meditate on. I think John Piper said something to the effect that it’s not books or paragraphs that change or impact lives, but sentences. Therein lies Ann’s gift in my opinion, the simple sentence. Anyway, I stole a few of those from this post and rearranged the order in a way that spoke to me. Maybe they will speak to you as well.

“You can never be undone.
No matter what intends to harm you, God’s arms have you.
You can never be undone.
No matter what intends to harm you … God is never absent, never impotent, never distant.
You can never be undone.
What was intended to tear you apart, God intends it to set you apart.
Whatever happens, whatever unfolds, whatever unravels,
you can never be undone.” ~ Ann Voskamp

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2015 in Faith, Grief

 

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John Piper – Letter to a Parent Grieving the Loss of a Child

John Piper got this exactly right and although it was written especially to address a mother grieving the loss of a stillborn child, he addresses issues true for anyone who grieves the loss of a loved one. Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.

http://www.desiringgod.org/articles/letter-to-a-parent-grieving-the-loss-of-a-child

(Facebook Post 9/8/15)

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2015 in Faith, Grief, Links

 

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Learning to Fly Solo Times Two

(Facebook Post 8/15/15)
JBU
The start of college is an exciting time for Gracen, and a bittersweet time for me. A time for her to spread her wings and fly. I am profoundly thankful she has this opportunity at all as we were not quite sure it would be possible, at least in the way we hoped it would happen.

Earlier this year I read through the doctors notes from the ER December 26, 2013. When every effort had been made on her behalf, a final prognosis note was entered into record. It read something like this: Should the patient survive, she will likely reside in a long term care facility. When David and I were finally allowed to see her in the ICU, I asked the nurse outright if Gracen was expected to survive and received the standard non-response: All I can tell you is that the next forty-eight hours are critical.

It never crossed my mind to take pictures of Gracen in the hospital, in fact the only ones taken were taken by a friend of Gracen’s. But looking back, I wish I had, if only to remind myself of how far she’s come, how far she exceeded the expectations of the doctors who saved her life. There are days I need the encouragement – a visual reminder – that my warrior princess has conquered overwhelming odds in the past and can still push beyond the prognosis of her disease.

I’ve done everything I can possibly think to do to ensure a smooth transition for Gracen into college. We’ve toured the campus multiple times trying to address every accessibility issue she might encounter in the dorm, the classrooms, and on campus itself, from the cafeteria, library and laundry facilities to ADA (Americans with Disabilities Act) desks and priority seating arrangements. I’ve spoken with the Support Services Director and the Facilities Director, who, by the way, have treated this neurotic mother with great kindness and the utmost respect, and have addressed every concern promptly.

I have scoured the ads and stores to determine if there are products available for purchase that will make dorm life easier, more “normal” for her, and purchased what I can. Her dorm room has been measured and mapped out on graph paper so that we can determine how her room can be laid out for maneuverability and access to outlets to charge the battery for either her scooter or the power wheelchair we hope will be delivered before freshman orientation begins. We’ve assessed bathrooms and showers and storage space for her manual wheelchair, a walker, and shower chair. We located and spoken with the campus nurse and are working with Gracen’s therapy clinic to arrange a new, abbreviated schedule of therapy sessions.

Arkansas Rehabilitation Services helped us to identify and acquire assistive technology to help Gracen in the classroom and we have been practicing to use Dragon Dictate and a Smart Pen.

Most important of all, for this neurotic mother anyway, is the iwatch Gracen received as a graduation present. It’s a luxury item to most, a high-priced toy to others (and definitely a toy from Gracen’s perspective) but it’s sole purpose is to grant Gracen access to emergency assistance should she fall in the shower or anywhere else on campus when she is alone. As long as her cell phone is nearby, she will be able to call 911, campus security, the school nurse or a friend for help.

On Thursday, August 20th, we will move Gracen’s things into her dorm room and on Friday evening we will return and Walker Residence Hall on the campus of John Brown University will become Gracen’s new home. David and I will probably take a boatload of pictures, which she will allow with annoyed indulgence, hug her, and do our best not to shed any tears in her presence before turning our backs and driving away. We will be happy and sad and far more worried than the average parent as we exit campus. And while David may trust the Lord to protect Gracen by keeping her physically safe, I will trust Him to protect her heart, mind and soul until her numbered days expire, and I will hope and pray that her number of days will be far greater than Bethany’s and Katie’s proved to be because as Proverbs 19:21 says, “Many are the plans in a person’s heart, but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.”

My heart will hope that Gracen will fly and I will share the wisdom of others who have gone before and tell her to stay strong –

staystrong
that she is not a one in a million kind of girl, she is a once in a lifetime kind of woman.

lifetimewoman

I will tell her life shrinks in proportion to one’s courage –

courage

And to keep on climbing, keep on reaching.  I’ll remind her that she’s come so far, that she need not be scared, because I am confident that she will fly! I’ll tell her to exercise discretion, use good judgment and then, and only then, take risks.

takerisks

And I will try to remind myself of those same things in the days and weeks to come as Gracen flies and I start looking for an identity beyond that of wife and mother and attempt to answer this question for myself, Who am I now?

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Down the Damascus Road, Again . . .

Down the Damascus Road, Again . . .

(Posted on Facebook 2/26/15)

I have found there are points in my life where I find myself completely unable to accept God’s obvious plan. Maybe you’ve found yourself in a similar situation? It’s what I refer to as my “Road to Damascus” experience. By that point in time I’m filled with frustration and anxiety and doing everything I can in my own power to change the circumstances I find myself in only to have God pull me up short and shine a painful, blindingly bright light of truth down, revealing that I am not just kicking against the pricks but actively working against His greater plan.

It’s hard to describe how it feels to know that the thing you least want to accept in your life is an irrefutable part of God’s plan. Oh, to be a two year old again so that the temper tantrum I want more than anything to throw, while not tolerated, is at least understood.

Harder still and completely beyond my human capabilities, is the ability to change the desperate desire of my heart, let alone make any attempt to surrender and embrace God’s unacceptable plan.

I firmly believe changing the heart and embracing God’s plan only happens at the point where a believer’s brokenness is met by the active work of the Holy Spirit in that believer’s life. Surrender definitely comes before embracing the plan.

In fact, embracing the plan may never actually happen and it may not even be something God expects from me — from any believer. Maybe all God really expects is for us to quit actively working against Him — not because we have the power to prevent His plan from unfolding but because the fight — the anger, fear, frustration, anxiety and bitterness exhausts and destroys us from within.

Maybe simple resignation, surrender to the inevitable, is a victory in and of itself. Maybe surrender, resigned or not, allows one the energy to take the next step, endure the next blow, and the next, until only the sorrow and quiet emptiness remains leaving room for the Savior to fill you from the cup of consolation and enabling the broken believer to receive the only remaining hope worth clinging to — an eternal future promised to stand in stark contrast to every aching moment the present reality reflects. Maybe that’s sufficient until the day we are made like Him.

 
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Posted by on October 22, 2015 in Faith, Grief

 

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Welcome to Paranoia!

(Originally published on Facebook 11/17/14)

Please take a moment and read this blog post from themighty.com, entitled, “A Letter to the Me Who Was Terrified of Our Diagnosis”, before reading any further.

http://themighty.com/2014/11/a-letter-to-the-me-who-was-terrified-of-our-diagnosis/

Oh yeah! I wish I had read this in the early years, when I knew something was wrong but most people (medical professionals included) thought I was simply a paranoid, over-protective mother.

I never could have written this to myself. The many comments that minimized Gracen and Katie’s symptoms from real concerns to simple clumsiness left me second guessing myself. Having lost one child, I was hyper-sensitive to every fear, but also hyper-sensitive to over-reaction. I knew I needed to guard against my over-protective nature, yet that left me consumed with self-doubt. I was not able to see clearly. I needed someone with a more distant perspective than I could manage to encourage me to aggressively pursue answers. It took me quite awhile to find that person.

In the meantime, I developed an advance/retreat strategy. Push, push, push for answers. Gain a bit of knowledge, a fraction of ground. Push for more information. Get shot down and become disheartened. Retreat. Bury my head in the sand. Shake off concerns – ignore fears, ignore fears ignore fears! Arggggg, can’t ignore fears anymore – push, push, push! Repeat!

That describes the early years. Every once in a while God would send a glimpse of encouragement. I remember taking Gracen to soccer practice one afternoon, frustrated that a doctor had once again downplayed my concerns, leaving me questioning. Wondering if I was seeing something that didn’t exist. I sat down next to another mother I didn’t really know as practice began. A few minutes after practice started she turned to me and said, “What’s wrong with your daughter?” And while I cringe at the insensitive way in which the question was phrased, at that moment I was thankful because she validated what I knew to be true deep down inside and gave me the courage to push some more.

There came a point in time when, due to the progressive nature of the girls’ disease, I no longer had to fight to have doctors acknowledge a problem existed. However, at this point I encountered an unexpected attitude from medical professionals. There is a school of thought within the medical community that promotes the idea that the root of the problem is irrelevant. Treating the symptoms is sufficient. Weary of the battle, worried about the future and afraid to look too closely into the future, I acquiesced.
Then one day, having to find yet another neurologist, I stumbled upon Dr. Phillps, a new pediatric neurologist (actually, I think she was the only “pediatric” neurologist) arrived in NW Arkansas. She was a tiny sprite of a thing with a warrior’s heart. After several appointments she turned to me one day and said, “I think we need to search for a diagnosis. You need to know if a condition leads to other medical issues so that we can watch for those and not be surprised by them.” So the hunt was on – and it took years.

Dr. Phillips eventually married another neurologist, and so Dr. Phillps became Dr. Mrs. Balmakund when her husband began working at the same clinic.
Dr. Mrs. Balmakund is the most humble and tenacious doctor I have ever met. She is always open to suggestions from others, medical or lay people. She loves her patients and their families and takes her knowledge and questions to monthly conference calls with a group of her peers and on the road to medical conferences where she questions other specialists, always seeking to find another patient presenting with similar symptoms or to find that one specialist who has knowledge of a condition she is unfamiliar with. She has no ego where kids are concerned. She willing sent us to other specialists and eventually one, who was unable to provide a diagnosis, did suggest two tests that might reveal a diagnosis. After jumping through a series of insurance hurdles, and fifteen years after Gracen’s symptoms presented, we finally had a diagnosis.

Yippee, right? Wrong! David and I found ourselves less than prepared to hear the prognosis revealed one Spring morning at her clinic. However, Dr. Balmakund did not abandon us but set us up with a neuro-psychologist to help us work through the emotions and fears and guide us in the best ways to inform all three of our daughters.

Dr. B, as she is affectionately known to many of her patients, has been there for us every step of the way – has gone above and beyond with hospital visits and follow up phone calls. She has been our ordained gift from God and we could not be more grateful.

In fact, God has been doubly good to us as Amy Grant used to sing. Dr. Mrs. Balmakund works in a practice of like-minded professionals who have supported and encouraged us in our most difficult and darkest moments. They have shared hard truths with love and have pushed us to seek outside help we likely would have made do without. We have needed them and have often not had to ask because they’ve simply stepped up and in before we knew exactly what we needed.

Drs. Karkos, Scott and Balmakund have often played the role this woman played for herself in my life – recognizing needs within me that I was not always aware of myself. They have ministered to our entire family, not just their patient. In that, they are truly remarkable and have blessed us beyond measure! They are among those I think of when I hear or think of Philippians 1:3, “I thank my God upon every remembrance of you.”

These women are but a small sampling of the men and women God has surrounded and supported us with. So very many people, some who’ve played a very limited role, appearing at just the right moment and some who’ve stood in the gap for us for a season, and many who have walked along side us for years – serving as the hands and feet of Christ – with a word of encouragement, extending a simple kindness, or doing the heavy lifting by praying us through so many concerns and challenges and downright dilemmas. Oh yes, I am grateful to God for His faithful provision.

Now, I think I should go back and read paragraph one!

 

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