Today Was the Day // When Things Don't Go to Plan...

.

When you come out the other side of any kind of personal trauma, it's easy to get caught up in the 'should have beens' and 'would have beens' of it all. Questions circulate, minds ponder the 'what ifs?' and 'what fors?' and the heart is left vulnerable to bitterness and resentment and comparison. From there, things can get messy very quickly... 

Yet instead, I am calm, and thankful, and at peace. It doesn't make much sense 

Today should have been the day Elias was born. It should have been the day I walked sensibly into the operating theatre, laughing casually and nervously with my husband. It should have been the day, at 36+3 weeks, that Elias was deemed ready to enter the big wide world by elective section. It should have been calm, and relaxed, and straightforward.

Today 'should have been' his birthday.

The day the Doctors scheduled.

And yet, God.... In his goodness, infinite wisdom and perfect sovereignty, did not see today as the best day for Elias to be born. Instead, at 34+6 our boy made his entrance into this world, on a day which could have gone so horribly wrong. And yet...

All the right people in the right place at the right time...

A little boy who, though early, was strong enough to do his last bits of developing on the outside.

As my mother-in-law reminded me throughout the pregnancy...

"This baby will be born on just the right day"

 And so he was.

Oh, and Alex... You've got your birthday back! Happy birthday not so little brother!

Home At Last// Ready for Some Hum Drum

                        

It's been a wonderful 24 hours. Home with my little brood. I am taking it very easy, and David has been wonderful at running the household with the older three so I can rest up with Elias in our little attic haven. The children are besotted with their little brother... Utterly loved up to the point where our usually best buddied oldest two have been squabbling over who's next for cuddles, and who gets to carry the changing bag... So much for four sorting all those sibling dynamics!

They are just so pleased to have us home I think. The novelty will wear off I'm sure, and they'll be back to their old antics in no time at all!

I am savouring their enthusiasm though. And savouring home comforts. And home cooked food. And cuddles with my littles. And familiarity. And just being home where I belong.

So, so much to thank the Lord for.

                        

Elias is a little gem... A warm, fuzzy-haired, newborn-scented delight. We are having to work hard on feeding and staying awake. I thought it was a challenge with newborns before, but premature babies? Whole different ball game. But we are getting there, and I'm learning so many new things. And feeling vulnerable. And asking questions. And doubting my judgements.

Fourth time round and it's still the same.

My heart is so full of joy. I am sore, and tired... Weak and achey... And not overly excited about the six week (!) course of fragmin they've put me on... (I have to psych myself up to self-inject every time!) but these are a small price to pay for the beautiful gift of life we've been given.

Thank you for all your support, prayers and comments here... On Instagram... Messages, texts and face to face conversations. We have felt so upheld by you all and I've been so struck by the way our little family has been loved through this trial.

Now we simple revel in the recovery, the normality... And as my Dad put it...

"Ready to return to some hum drum"

Oh yes we are!

Our Little Arrival...

        

 

Our little bundle of joy

Our Elias William

Born 5 weeks early on Saturday suddenly, unexpectedly, a little traumatically and dramatically.

Childbirth is not pretty... But it is glorious. This little bundle of joy born too soon, yet fighting fit. Evidence that though the journey can be painful, difficult, riddled with tears, wounds, scars and doubts, the ending is beautiful... The gift is worth it. So very worth it.

God was in every bit of his arrival... The timings of events, which could have been catastrophic if things had unfolded minutes earlier, or minutes later... Perhaps I will share the story some time... For now, I'm trying to get my own head round it, and revelling in the newborn scent, the sleepy feeds, this precious little miracle gift of a boy.

Thank you to all of you have supported us so well over the past few difficult weeks.

We are here, and we can testify, as does the meaning of our littlest boy's name...

The Lord is God!

                       

  

                       

   

Good Friday Thoughts and a Little Easter Playlist

       

     

Songs for Easter Celebration

An Easter Playlist 

Click here

I've been thinking this week how hard it is for our little people to get their heads around Good Friday... To understand why a day remembering darkness, death and defeat could ever be something worth celebrating...

But that is the beauty of Good Friday... On first appearances, it is a day of apparent contradictions...

The Light of God being snubbed out by darkness, yet bringing light to the world...

Jesus death on the cross breathing life to us...

The apparent defeat of Christ, actually being the defeat of sin and death once and for all, and victory for him...

It is not easy to understand... And at the same same time, so very simple.

On Good Friday, Jesus willingly gave up his life for me - taking my guilt, bearing my punishment, paying the cost.

Now I'm free. Unburdened. Able to live a life with direct access to God and life in all its fullness... Peace with him, the assurance of eternal life, joy in trials. Not because I'm anything special, simply because he hung on that cross for me...

And for you, if you'll accept him...

And so I while away a quiet morning in my hospital room... Feeling thankful, and filling my mind with lyrics that remind me of these beautiful ancient truths, ever new!

So I thought I'd share my Easter Spotify playlist... In case you too would like to dwell on the wonderfully good news of that dark day. Just click on the link at the top.

Hallelujah!

Half way // Two weeks down, Two to go...

        

Today we hit the half way marker... Fourteen days down, fourteen to go until our new D-day. It's been a good few days... The sunshine always helps, and a week of respite with no further scares is good for the soul. We're praying it continues...

On Realising Your Limitations // A Little Update

                         

    

One day slips into another, I cross another number off my homemade (or should I say hospital made?!) calendar. Another day has passed with no drama. I breath deep and pray again...

"Lord I believe, help now my unbelief"

It's amazing how quickly you become institutionalised. How you set up little routines and habits that keep you sane.

Get up.

Shower.

Dress. 

Breakfast.

Brush teeth.

Hair and make up.

Time with the Lord.

Cup of Tea.

Refill water jug.

CTG

Water plants.

Record girls bedtime story.

Dave and the children arrive...

       

    

Each day mimicking the next, but when your pregnancy is shrouded by uncertainty, there is something bizarrely comforting about routine and monotony. Something that makes it feel safer.

I still wake up most mornings fearful of what I'll find.

And every morning, as I pull myself out of slumber and head to the bathroom, that still small voice reminds me...

"Do you trust me? Look to me, daughter. And trust me"

I take a deep breath.

"Lord I believe. Help now my unbelief"

Thirteen days down... Fifteen to go. Almost half way.

       

  

The days are full and happy... My little children run around me, gathering sticks and stones, flowers and leaves, feathers and happy memories. They build campfires on the green, craft bows and arrows and leaf cutters... They chase footballs around courtyards and find dens and giggle and smile and remind me that they are just fine. My husband holds my hand and reassures me that all is well at home. We are all well. God has been so good and faithful to us.

                         

The prayers of his people are being heard.

But I am weary... I do not have my usual capacity. I cannot mother them as I usually do, and I'm left feeling tired, guilty and limited. My body is putting every ounce of effort into keeping this little one safe... Growing it as best it can, and I am battle worn.

Just fifteen more days. So short... And yet so long. To be away from my other little loves...

                         

   

A season of waiting... Of watching... Of tuning my ear to that still small voice. Of wallowing in His promises...

"Look at me, daughter, and trust me"

"Lord I believe. Help now my unbelief"

                         

   

Yesterday was a hard day...

        

A hard day.

A tearful day.

I guess I knew there would be days like these. Days of disappointment and frustration. Days of questions. Days where it would be hard to reconcile truths I know in my head with a disappointed heart. Until yesterday, this hospital stay has felt remarkably joy-filled... Hard, yes. Not ideal, no. But an overwhelming sense of peace and joy and trust.

And then yesterday happened. I woke up at 4.45am... Another scare. We quickly assessed that the baby was fine, the bleeding had stopped. I breathed a sigh of relief.

And then came the cannula. 

Be Still and Wait... // Living in the Passive Form

         

     

The hours are long in hospital. Some days are filled with the merry chatter of friendly midwives, other days I can go hours without seeing anyone. It can feel lonely, but I'm also thankful to the Lord for time and space to read, and talk, and listen to him.

Life at home as a Mama to a little brood doesn't afford a lot of time for watching and waiting.

Be still and wait.

The soundtrack to this placenta praevia season. The words that have been spoken over me again and again the last few weeks. By friends and family, by strangers, by books I'm reading and my own Bible study.

"Stand still and see how I will deliver you."

"Be still and wait."

"The Lord will show you"

Exodus 14:13-14, verses I have never noticed before and yet which have been spoken to me by a number of different people, highlighted in the book I'm reading and prayed for me. Words of hope. Words of encouragement. Words to trust.

But hard words to live.

I am a doer, a reactor and responder, a planner and a controller. I live my life in the active form.

And yet watching, waiting, being still and seeing are all passive.

It doesn't come naturally, or easily, for me to wait and see...

Perhaps that's why the Lord has seen fit to consign me to this little hospital room for the next few weeks. A severe mercy, a God-ordained opportunity, a 'detour of blessing'.

                         

 

And so I watch. And so I wait. Praying for this little one. Whiling away the hours reading, thinking, drinking in the blessings of the valleys, hard though they are at times to see. They are there when you look. When you stop the frantic worrying and anxious thoughts.

'Be still and I will show you.'

And so I surrender.

                         

   

Hope When it Hurts // The Art of Suffering Well...

        

To suffer well, you will need Jesus (p17)

When I read that opening line a few weeks ago, as I was handed a copy of "Hope when it Hurts" to review for The Good Book Company, I nodded along as most of us do. I have had significant trials in my life, though I realise not as significant as many, and that line, written in bold above, was a truth I knew to be real.

But to be brutally honest, it wasn't particularly personally significant to me at that point. Life was going well, our children were for the most part, in less tricky stages of childhood, our marriage was in a good place, almost a years worth of disruption and building work was coming to an end, and I was settling comfortably into the second trimester of pregnancy with our fourth baby.

The future looked bright.

Little did I know that God was about to take our little family on a detour that would turn this book from a happy little nod-along, to a hungered for gem of truth.

        

Because right now, the story is somewhat different. Confined to hospital for the next four weeks, while doctors monitor the baby and myself twice daily, separated from my husband and children and living out long, lonely days in the confines of four hospital walls, that truth above seems a lot more relevant. We are at 33 weeks, hopeful to get another four under our belt, but the reality is, that baby could come somewhat sooner.

While I have been fairly open about our worries about a premature birth, there have been worries through this pregnancy that I felt only right to share with our nearest and dearest... More recent events have let me feel able to share more. The possibility of Placenta Accreta, a more dangerous and risky side affect of Placenta Praevia threatened in the background of my mind. Possible removal to a more specialist hospital further away, the likelihood of a hysterectomy at 31, and all that that would signify, the threat of serious haemorrhage, a much more complex delivery plan... I tried not to let my brain go there, prayed for a miracle, sat and hoped and longed that the Lord might spare us this further trial... All the while knowing that in the past, when the trials have gotten deeper and deeper, he has been enough.

I clung to Jesus, knowing that opening line to be true.

To suffer well, you will need Jesus

Hope when it hurts. 

From real and raw experience, I can testify that this is a book that should adorn the shelves, nightstands and bookcases of every Christian. Suffering is inevitable... However much the world shouts against it, we all know that deep down. I have yet to meet anybody, anywhere throughout history who has escaped any form of suffering.

For most of us, it is more familiar than we would wish.

And this gem of a book, written by two women still in the midst of persistent suffering, speaks truth straight to the heart; a book that breaks down what it looks like to suffer with Jesus; with his hope, with his promises, with his comfort, with his Spirit. It is easy to read, conversational and yet deeply theological, and the genuiness of their faith, scarred and battle-weary though it is, drips through every sentence with raw honesty.

It has truly been heaven-sent through this season of life.

A few of my favourite quotes...

We do not have to live our lives anxiously toiling and striving to control the circumstances around us. Trust Christ, and know that every aspect of our lives is purposefully designed to make us more like him and bring glory to his name. (P38)

Your trials are not expressions of God's anger, because all of it was poured out upon Jesus. (P44)

Circumstances that perplex us need not drive us to despair. Instead, they can take us to new depths of faith. They challenge us to trust solely on the promises of God. (P56)

The Lord won't waste a moment of the pain and suffering that often feels pointless and random to us (p59)

One of the most beautiful and Christ-glorifying pictures of faith is when a believer has no earthly evidence or confidence to fall back on except a wooden cross and an empty tomb, and yet trusts firmly in the loving sovereignty of Christ. Seemingly senseless and confusing circumstances give us opportunity to trust in and beautifully proclaim God's glory to a world searching for meaning in suffering. (P60)

Whatever storm you are facing... Cling to him! Cry out to him! Then wait, watch and anticipate. The greater the storm, the greater the opportunity for you to rely on Jesus, and the greater the joy and the awe you will experience when his glory and power are shown through it. (P75)

When life is falling apart, and wordly happiness has long since fled, Christian joy can shine forth clearly and uniquely (p89)

Gah! There really are too many to write out! Such great stuff, right?!

One of my favourite bits about the book, were the questions, the prayers and the journaling pages. An opportunity to respond to each chapter through the lense of your own situation. It has been so helpful to work through some of my fears and anxieties through the questions this book has posed, and the pointers back to Christ, time and time again have been invaluable.

       

On Friday, we received the wonderful news that it appears I do not have Placenta Accreta, and while I am not out of the woods (my Placenta Praevia is still very much an issue) and while I am still whiling away hours in hospital, the long-term, potentially life-changing risks to myself and the baby have been somewhat diminished. Praise God. Such relief. Such thankfulness. And yet always in the knowledge that had we had to walk down a further road, he would have been enough.

He always is.

For now, my struggles, my loneliness, my fears over the delivery and safety of this baby have been given a new perspective. God has shown so much mercy, in so many ways. And I know, again, that that fact is true...

To suffer well, you will need Jesus.

Amen.

If you know anyone struggling, weary with suffering, finding it hard to align truths they know about God with the reality of their life circumstances, this book is gold-dust. And if you suspect that at some point in your life you may face something tough, then I honestly think there is no better way to prepare yourself...

Hope when it Hurts, by Kristen Wetherell and Sarah Walton is available from The Good Book Company now at a discounted price of £9.99. It was provided free of charge for the purposes of this review, but all thoughts and opinions are my own. 

       

       

Soundtrack for a Struggling Soul // Truths for Trials

It hasn't been an easy few weeks... the whirlwind of one thing after another... sick children, broken bones and the complications of placenta praevia in pregnancy. Our local hospital has felt more familiar than I would perhaps like it to, and yet in it all I am so very thankful for the NHS, for the care and concern they have shown, and for having a plan of action.

But it is true that however organised and ordered the Consultants are, however much of a plan is in place, however much you entrust yourself, they are merely human, and at times, the questions surrounding my placenta praevia, and potential placenta accreta, feel overwhelming.

The what ifs threaten to take over.

Sometimes in the night, they feel big and weighty and heavy... I struggle to name them because I can't let my head go there... there are certain things I feel safer handing straight to my heavenly Father, and leaving them there.

So many people praying... so many speaking words of truth to my heart in this time that could be overcome by fear. And yet, for the most part, I feel anchored... safe... secure.

Words of truth. God's promises. His provisions in Christ are the things that anchor my soul when my mind is swirling with questions...

And of all the mediums there are, it is music that so often has the power to speak straight to my soul. It allows the tears to flow without that overwhelming flood... it puts voice to my anxious thoughts and preaches promises to my heart.

And so I thought I'd share the words which have steadied this struggling soul over the past few weeks. Yesterday, I spent time putting them all into one big spotify playlist... so if you find yourself feeling overwhelmed, flooded with anxiety or fear, I thought it might be helpful to share those promise-filled truths with you.

Enjoy...

When the Road gets Tough // A Long Week

       

     

It had been a difficult ten days... The worry over the baby after our 26 week scare and my stint in hospital was swiftly followed by a six day fever for our Heidi. Our little girl who, due to her heart meds, is not "allowed" to have a fever for more than 48 hours, spent the week doing battle with some relentless, ongoing virus which reminded me a little bit too much of the awful spring of 2013, when her tiny body was attacked by Kawasaki disease. I spent much of last week running backwards and forwards to the doctors and on the phone with her cardiac nurse. It wasn't just physically tiring, but the mental exhaustion of reliving those horrific hospital days made for an emotional week.

Update // The Joys of Home

It's amazing how one split second can change everything. How one moment in time on Wednesday night set us on an unexpected path that led to two nights in hospital, a lot of prayer and anxiety and now continued questions about whether this baby of ours will make it to term.

For now, the news is good...

Learning to Rest // Some thoughts on Sabbath

I was never good at sitting still... stillness does not come naturally to me. As a child I was a fidget; as a teen, a socialite; and in my adult years I have thrived on jumping feet first from one project into the next. For the most part, the duracell bunny in me runs reliably, though there have been definite seasons where I have come dangerously close to crashing and burning. Scarily close. A life-lesson that I seem to need to learn on repeat...

New Starts and Fresh Hopes // Welcome 2017

A new year.

A blank page.

A fresh start.

2016 has been an eventful year - My sister's wedding, a long summer in Norway (1, 2, 3, 4), the news of our impending arrival, a huge building project, living with Mum and Dad - it's been busy and it's been hectic and it's been chaotic, to say the least.

Perspective // On Lofts and Life

I was feeling a little overwhelmed at the start of last week. Questions about our building work hanging over me. Stage One is pretty much completed now... we're waiting on our carpet and a radiator, but aside from that, our brand new bedroom and bathroom in the loft are good to go. Stage Two has looked a little problematic before its even started, and while the busyness of the day keeps me from dwelling on it too much, at night, the worries simmer up. When your mind is full of taps and tiles and details, and whether the whole thing will even get off the ground at 2am, all perspective seems to go out the window.

Perspective. My old friend.

Because for me, that word will always bring back flashing images of hospital cots, and oxygen tubes and heart echoes. For me, that word perspective will always be shaped like a nine week old baby fighting for her life.

Three years ago, when our baby girl was diagnosed with Kawasaki Disease, fever raging, splotchy red and arteries dilated to four times their normal size, I wondered if I would ever again get stressed by silly things like house extensions.

And in that moment. The penny drops. The realisation hits. God opens my eyes and reminds me of all the goodness and blessing and mercy and grace I experience every day in every moment.

I am so thankful... so very, very thankful, that the biggest things I have to stress about right now are whether our house extension will start this month or next, whether the tiles piled high in our garden should be kept or sold, whether the pipe for the taps will actually physically fit down the back of our sink unit. These things feel like niggling intruders... questions I need to answer, but don't want to deal with. And yet...

I have so much to be thankful for... and yet here I sit, knee deep in worries and questions that I can't actually do anything about anyway!

Perspective. A reason to rejoice. To be thankful. To remember what really matters.

And give my worries and cares to the one who cares for me...

Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving,

present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,

will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus

- Philippians 4:6-7 -

On Choosing // The Simple Truth of Rest

London life has a habit of running at breakneck speed. Even with the slower pace of homemaking and stay-at-home mothering, all too often life seems hectic and frenzied. I spring from one responsibility to another... I seek to parent purposefully... I seek to prioritise my marriage... I chase my tail and fall into bed in the evenings feeling little of the satisfaction and soul-rest that I long to feel.

This past year has been a particularly busy season of life. Ava adores school; she is thriving there... but the strict school routine still feels like an unwelcome intruder in our lives. We hurry out the door every morning, we have a few hours before we scurry back, and then evening draws near, the day is gone and our lives suddenly seem to be dictated to by a timetable. It's necessary... its good training... it's the reality of life, but it has made our days seem shorter and the weeks fly by at a speed that leaves me gasping for breath.

And all this while, I have thought... "the summer is coming!"

Norway. Freedom, fresh air, open fjords, majestic mountains, time in excess... no responsibilities, no necessities... space.

And it has fulfilled... all of the above. We have drunk in the fresh air, swam the icy waters of the fjords, clambered part way up majestic mountains and taken time... so much time.

And yet, deep inside my soul, there is still that hectic frenzy.

I am not at peace.

And I realise that it is not nature's beauty that will ever leave me feeling satisfied; beautiful and awe-inspiring that it is... it's gift of peace is momentary and fleeting. It is not time and space to relax that will bring me what my soul craves... it is not my family who can give me that deep assurance of who I am and what my purpose is.

It is only Jesus.

I have used my busyness these past weeks as an excuse.... I have prioritised the things that I thought would bring me joy and peace... and they have not.

The fact is, whatever season I am in... soul-rest is a choice.

To spend time, in the quiet moments, at the feet of the Saviour... resting... praying... meditating on his word. To drink deep the words of scripture... to pray God's promises over my little ones... to raise my eyes and remember those around the world who are suffering... to listen to the still small voice that reminds me...

"You are not your own, you are bought at a price... find your rest in me"

I write this with tears of thankfulness in my eyes. Because even as I type, these words sink - slowly, deeply, healing my soul... breathing life... breathing hope. Claiming forgiveness.

Friend... if you are caught in the trap of busyness... choose to find rest for that much-loved, highly-treasured soul of yours...

And feast on the words of our Saviour...

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest - Matthew 11:28

... and whisper with me...

"Thank you Jesus..."

Truly my soul finds rest in God;

My salvation comes from Him

- Psalm 62:1 - 

Some helpful resources on the theme of soul-rest...

* Psalm 62 The Bible

* This fantastic and helpful article by John Ortberg on the theme of "soul-fatigue"

* This song, by Aaron Keyes and Stuart Townend, "Psalm 62"

* This article has some practical suggestions, by the Girltalk ladies

When the Parenting Road Gets Rough // A Little Shaping and Moulding

Being a Mama has been the most profoundly rewarding and joyful role of my life so far. I truly feel so honoured and blessed to have been given responsibility for these three little lives. But being a Mama has also been the most painfully self-revealing, frustrating and exhausting challenge I have ever undertaken. Some days will go by in a blur of happy harmony... The kind of days I will return to in my memory when I'm aging and looking back on these years with rose-tinted spectacles. The kind of days when my camera is at hand and I capture the little details (like this day at our local pick-your-own farm!), take a deep breath and feel so very overwhelmingly blessed. But then there are other days when I fall in a collapsed heap at 7.30pm and feel guilty at the relief I feel that we've managed to get them all into bed in one piece.

This past fortnight has been one of the toughest runs of parenting I've had so far.

Defiance in a child is never an easy road to navigate, most especially because defiance in a child brings up all my own sin, as a mother, and puts it in stark, glaring light right alongside the sin in this particular child. This past week I have felt every emotion under the sun. The love for my children so incredibly strong, protective, consuming; countered by frustration, anger, disbelief and a general sense of being at the end of my tether.

Add in the 5am wake up calls from another of our children and you start to get the picture.

I could name and shame all the disagreeable behaviour we've been encountering these past couple of weeks. Never before has the saying "pick your battles" felt so apt... But the truth of the matter is, that when I point one finger at the aforementioned child, there are always three more fingers pointing back at me... And this run of behaviour has called me to take a good long hard look at myself too.

Elizabeth Elliot once wrote the wise words that... "The process of shaping the child, shapes also the mother herself" and these past two weeks are testimony to the truth of that statement. Never before have I felt so aware of my own inability and incompetences as a mother, never before have I felt so completely without answers; and being in that place feels awfully scary.

I like to be in control. And right now, there's a little person who's putting up a good fight to take that control for herself.

So many thoughts and emotions run wild when we're in the midst of a "battle", and restraining those emotions, and keeping some semblance of measure and self-control in the midst of it can feel like a challenge enough, without that little angry pout eyeing defiantly up at us. It's hard not to think "it's not meant to be like this", it's hard not to feel anger at the constant challenges, and most of all, it's hard not to just push on through demanding my will and my way.

And that's why seeking to train a child's heart is so much more complicated than simply instilling your will. I can do that. She's stubborn, but I am more so. The problem is that at the end of that, there are two people feeling frustrated, angry, misunderstood, and the whole event is most likely to reoccur the very next day (or ten minutes later...!)

Training her heart will take a step of humility from me... To desire her long term good over the immediate satisfaction of a "win", to remain consistent when I feel shattered and just want to give in, to demonstrate grace in discipline and model forgiveness when I actually just want to hold a grudge to make her see how frustrated I am.

To be like Jesus.

Humility. Grace. Forgiveness. Patience. Gentleness. Self-control. And standing firm and persevering in discipline and training, because I know that learning to respect your elders, to be kind with your words, to speak truth in love is what is best for our children.

These characteristics don't come naturally to me... and that is the beauty of it. In seeking to grow my little girl's heart, in seeking to shape her, I am, as Elisabeth Elliot put it, being shaped by the master-craftsman myself...

Oh, how glad I am that my worth and identity are not found in the successes or failures of my parenting!

A Little Thank You...

It's 11.15pm as I write this... darkness looms outside, I'm weary and tired and ready to roll into bed. It's been a long, emotionally and physically tiring day, but I knew I couldn't lay down tonight without thanking so many of you, from the bottom of my heart, for your prayers today. For remembering our little family, and most especially, our little Heidi.

It was good news.

For the first time, since she was 9 weeks old when Kawasaki Disease struck, Heidi's coronary arteries are the right size. Measuring in at around 2.4mm each, its a stark contrast to the almost 6mm they were at the height of her illness in that tiny baby body 3 years ago. They are not entirely uniform, there are hints of minute little ridges and bumps which are not concerning in and of themselves (and a far cry from the ginormous aneurysms that once lined them), but enough to make them want to be cautious and not over-confident. The decision has been made to keep her on the medication for another year. If, in a years time, the arteries are still within the range they should be, a decision to take her off the meds will in all likelihood be made. I guess I was slightly disappointed its not happening now, but also hugely relieved.

The meds feel like a safety blanket. Coming off them will be challenging.

Heidi was a dream the whole afternoon... thrilled to have Mama and Papa all to herself, she chattered merrily all the way there, only pausing for breath to devour her ice cream, and took the whole process in her stride. In the past I have always been nervous about how she will react to the different examinations but she happily and curiously watched all the goings on with easy-going acceptance. She was so relaxed in the echo itself, that I suddenly noticed her eyes bobbing, and desperately tried to hold the giggles back when we realised she had actually fallen asleep! Clearly she wasn't fazed by the whole experience then!

As always, the staff were so helpful; we received a lovely visit from my uni housemate, Ali, who works there, and James, our cardiac nurse, was incredible as always... sitting with us, listening, explaining and putting our minds at rest. God has been so very, very good to us in his provision of staff who genuinely care. It's been one of the hugest blessings throughout this long, hard ordeal... a genuine mercy.

We came home feeling positive, feeling hopeful and though this particular journey still isn't over, and I'm not sure it ever really will be, I can honestly say we have learnt more about God's faithfulness, sovereignty and goodness through this trial than in any other life circumstance we have found ourselves in...

And so, we continue to pray, that God will mould us, shape us, transform us and make us more like Jesus... that somehow, this whole journey will bring glory to God, and good to our littlest lady.

I tucked Heidi up tonight, mischievous, cheeky and grinning from ear to ear. Our feisty little firework of fun... kept safe, once more, in the Father's hands.

Thank you Jesus.

Amen.

On Cluttered Lives and Seeking Simplicity...

Life feels a little cluttered right now... my diary is constantly full, our home feels overwhelmed with stuff, my brain feels likes it constantly chasing after something I've forgotten. Sometimes I feel a little bit like I'm swimming some underwater race and get the odd chance to grab a quick breath of fresh, sweet air before ducking back under the waves again to power on. Anyone ever get that feeling?!

Don't get me wrong... I'm happy. I'm not feeling down about it, or feeling particularly weighed under. I just feel busy... and life feels a little relentless at the moment.

Clutter.

That's all.

There has always been a little piece of me that has ached for simplicity... perhaps thats why, as a child, I soaked myself in the imaginative world of Laura Ingalls Wilder and as a teen, while travelling around Amish Pennsylvania, commented to my Mum that I could move there at once.

Living off the earth, finding delight in the sweet simplicity of life without the daily treadmill of places I need to be and things I need to do... there's a huge bit inside me that longs for that.

Simplicity in my walk with the Lord. Making time daily to meditate on his word... commune with Him. Pray. Not just for stuff. Pray for his vision for the world. To be able to not be distracted by the clutter of life...

Simplicity in my family. Space for real conversation with my husband... to while away the hours solving the worlds problems... simplicity with my children; boundaries and the energy and consistency to follow through... simplicity in their education; soaking up good literature, delighting in their hunger for the world... simplicity in our meals; baking together, cooking together, picking from our own garden.

Simplicity in my friendships. Deep and meaningfuls... the capacity to really be there for my friends in the way I long to be... to seek their good and their joy above my own. To laugh together often till our sides hurt. To be real, and honest, and open and not judge each other. To pray together and be sisters to each other...

Simplicity in my home. To get rid of all the things we don't need... for home to be a haven of rest... a clutter free space to breathe. That everything would have its place... that the wonderful scent of homebaked goods would pervade... that every item in our home would have a purpose or a story... that people would walk in and feel home.

Simplicity in my work. Satisfaction and contentment without the need for approval and success. That I would do my work for an audience of one... always seeking to be honest and reliable and hardworking and gracious and loving, but not finding my identity in my success or failure...

Finding joy and delight in the relationships and gifts and responsibilities that God has given me...

And then, all of a sudden, I remember I'm the wrong side of heaven.

Because all the things above are how life should be... don't we all know that deep down? Know that? And long for that? And fail at it every single day.

Because life is cluttered. And always will be.

No matter how many times I seek to clear the diary, make space for friends, be present with my children, take delight in the little things... something will always get in the way - an illness, an emergency, an overload of washing, a sleepless night, discovery of another pile of junk that needs to be sorted through, or more often than not some sinful failure on my own part. Life is cyclical... we will never reach the end point... I will never be who I long to be, because I am incapable of making myself un-broken.

And so, in that moment of realisation, my heart begins to sink.

And then I look up.

I look up and remember that this dissatisfaction with this life is meant to make me long for another. One where there is no crying, or mourning, or pain. One where true satisfaction and contentment is not just achievable, but is the daily experience. One where my work will not be toil, but soul-delighting joy, one where I will be a real friend to those around me, one where I will not be distracted by the clutter and unnecessary stuff filling my home. One where my daily walk with the Lord will be sweet, and real, and tangible and soul-satisfying... and where my satisfaction and joy in him will lead to fulfilment in all aspects of my new, made perfect, redeemed life.

I cannot wait for the sweet simplicity, and unbelievably complex beauty, of heaven.

Thank you Jesus for preparing me a place...