What a blessing!

I have read Deuteronomy enough times now to know the flow of the book. It isn't one of my favorites. However, I know that God definitely has a message for me in it. But tonight, as I read through the early chapters, I felt like I was reading a completely different book. Words seemed to dance on the page for me. And one passage in particular struck me.

For you are a people holy to the LORD your God. The LORD your God has chosen you out of all the peoples on the face of the earth to be his people, his treasured possession.
-Deuteronomy 7:6

Context
Here, Moses is reminding the Israelites as they prepare to (finally) cross over the Jordan river into the promised land, that God will deliver them from any and all nations possessing the land. Moses tells them that there are idol worshippers and sorcerers in the land, and that the Israelites need to show them no mercy, but instead destroy them and their idols, for the Israelites are God's chosen people. By illustrating the value of the Israelites to God, Moses is hoping they will listen to the commands and instructions God is giving so that they will prosper - which, Moses explains to the Israelites, cannot happen if the Israelites fall victim to the allure of witchcraft and idol worship.

Holiness
We think of the word "holy" as meaning pure and clean, and perhaps it often does. But here, the word "holy" really means set apart, or ordained for a special purpose. God needed the nation of Israel to be a special people, because from it we would eventually receive our Savior and sacrificial lamb. Truly, the Israelites were holy, or set apart for a special purpose - they would form the bloodline for Jesus Christ, who would come to save all of God's people.

Chosen
I think this verse stuck out to me tonight because, though I know the context in which it was written, it still applies so very much to us today. Read it to yourself, like this: "Dana, you are a people holy to the LORD your God. The LORD your God has chosen you, Dana, out of all the peoples on the earth to be his people, his treasured possession." How does it feel to hear God speak directly to you? I never thought of myself as being holy. And to be chosen out of everyone to be special and treasured by God... that feels incredible. And though it might seem a little cheesy to read it that way, I still know in my heart that it's true. God hand-picked me to be valued in his eyes. I think back to my days on the playground, and how incredibly proud I felt to be the first one picked for a dodgeball team. How much more amazing is it to know that God, the Creator of everything, picked me for his team!

Treasured
I never really thought of myself as treasured. I mean, my parents loved me dearly. My kids admire me (sometimes). My friends enjoy my company. My husband adores me. But all of that combined can't compare to what it is to be treasured by the God of the universe. Is there even a verb for that? His love and adoration for his chosen people is so great that they need to invent a word to describe it. It's too big! He doesn't just love his people, he values them above all else. He lets the grass die in the field. He lets the seas churn and create storms that stir them into confusion. He allows the earth to shift and move and crumble. But his chosen people... for them, he sacrificed himself in flesh so that our relationship didn't cease to exist when the fires came, when storms roared, when earthquakes shook, when famine took over. For us, he literally gave his body and soul. He didn't just die for us, he died for us. We can't possibly fathom in our mortal minds the depth of his love for us... the best word they could come up with is treasured, one considered especially precious or valuable (freedictionary.com).

Now what?
Now that I know that I am holy, chosen, and treasured, what do I do with that? Well, in the context of the Israelites, Moses was giving a spiritual peptalk. He needed the Israelites to be strong and keep themselves from getting sucked in to the wicked ways of the nations they would encounter on their way to the Promised Land. And in order for them to understand by what authority they were to do this, they needed to understand God's motivation - he treasured them dearly, and he chose them to go forward and do the task for which they were set apart. For us, there aren't any Amorites or Canaanites to slay. But we know that for each of us, God has established a purpose and plan for which we are set apart. He chose us, specially and purposefully, to do something fantastic in his name. And he did so because we are treasured, precious and valuable.

I am holy, set apart to do something wonderful in his name. I was specially chosen to do it. And I am treasured for it. And you are, too.

Now, doesn't that make you feel a little better?

Sunshine and Psalms

For several days now the weather in southeast Texas has been absolutely beautiful, save the abundance of pollen that sends me into sneezing fits. We have enjoyed sunshine, soft breezes, and the sweet perfume of a nearby sweet olive tree. The dogs have been in the back yard nearly all day basking in the sunshine. If my eyes weren't nearly swollen shut, my throat closed and sore, and my nose constantly dripping, this would be an absolutely perfect day. I decided to take an Alavert and head to the backyard and sun myself with the dogs. Well, not exactly with the dogs. You know what I mean.

I opened the umbrella at the outdoor table and opened up my Bible. I figured it would only be fitting to read about the Creation while sitting in it. The sunshine on my face, the softness of the cool breeze, and the sweet scent of springtime all conspired to create a smile in my heart that not even a 10-in-a-row sneeze-fit could wipe away.

What God revealed to me was something beautiful, amazing, overwhelming, and captivating. While I marveled at the number of times I could sneeze, in a row and without pause, God was showing me something bigger at which to marvel: Creation itself. I wanted to share with you Psalm 104:

Praise the LORD, O my soul.

LORD my God, you are very great;
you are clothed with splendor and majesty.

The LORD wraps himself in light as with a garment;
he stretches out the heavens like a tent
and lays the beams of his upper chambers on their waters.
He makes the clouds his chariot
and rides he wings of the wind.
He makes winds his messengers,
flames of fire his servants.

He set the earth on its foundations;
it can never be moved.
You covered it with the watery depths as with a garment;
the waters stood above the mountains.
But at your rebuke the waters fled,
at the sound of your thunder they took to flight;
they flowed over the mountains,
they went down into the valleys,
to the place you assigned for them.
You set a boundary they cannot cross;
never again will they cover the earth.

He makes springs pour water into the ravines;
it flows between the mountains.
They give water to all the beasts of the field;
the wild donkeys quench their thirst.
The birds of the sky nest by the waters;
they sing among the branches.
He waters the mountains from his upper chambers;
the land is satisfied by the fruit of his work.
He makes grass grow for the cattle,
and plants for people to cultivate--
bringing forth food from the earth;
wine that gladdens human hearts,
oil to make their faces shine,
and bread that sustains their hearts.
The trees of the LORD are well watered,
the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.
There the birds make their nests;
the stork has its home in the junipers.
The high mountains belong to the wild goats;
the crags are a refuge for the hyrax.

He made the moon to mark the season,
and the sun knows when to go down.
You bring darkness, it becomes night,
and all the beasts of the forest prowl.
The lions roar for their prey
and seek their food from God.
The sun rises, and they steal away;
they return and lie down in their dens.
Then people go out to their work,
to their labor until evening.

How many are your works, O LORD!
In wisdom you made them all;
the earth is full of your creatures.
There is the sea, vast and spacious,
teeming with creatures beyond number--
living things both large and small.
There the ships go to and fro,
and Leviathan, which you formed to frolic there.

All creatures look to you
to give them their food at the proper time.
When you give it to them,
they gather it up;
when you open your hand,
they are satisfied with good things.
When you hide your face,
they are terrified;
when you take away their breath,
they die and return to the dust.
When you send your Spirit,
they are created,
and you renew the face of the ground.

May the glory of the LORD endure forever;
may the LORD rejoice in his works--
he who looks at the earth, and it trembles,
who touches the mountains, and they smoke.

I will sing to the LORD all my life;
I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.
May my meditation be pleasing to him,
as I rejoice in the LORD.
But may sinners vanish from the earth
and the wicked be no more.

Praise the LORD, O my soul.

Praise the LORD.

-Psalm 104, NIV

Lukewarm Living and Half-Hearted Giving

God is very clear in scripture that He isn't interested in us bringing to him anything other than the best. Nearly the entire book of Malachi is filled with God's words to those who would try to "cheat" God by bringing less than their very best as an offering to Him. In Malachi 1:6-14, He tells us that our blemished sacrifices mean nothing to Him, and "cursed is the cheat who has an acceptable male in his flock and vows to give it, but then sacrifices a blemished animal to the Lord." He could go on to give example after example of why He deserves to be honored and respected enough for us to bring Him our perfect sacrifices. But does He really need to? Have we not seen that God is God, and plenty worthy of everything??

Thankfully, animal sacrifices aren't required of us today. But that doesn't mean that God stopped asking for us to give to Him. In Malachi 3:10, God says "Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this," says the LORD Almighty, "and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it." The whole tithe, you say? Hmm. So, that's 10%, right? Gross or net? Monthly or weekly?

I think we've missed His point. Perhaps we need to back up a second. First of all, what is a tithe? Well, the word actually means a tenth. So, yes, 10% is a tithe. But 10% of what? Well, 10% of whatever earnings you have. So, if you earn $100, you would tithe $10. Simple. Often people ask, "10% of net or gross?" Well, let's stop and consider for a moment what God is really asking you to do. He isn't necessarily concerned with the money. And I don't think He's concerned with the math. But if you examine scripture closely, you'll see where He's going. In Malachi 3:8 it says, "Will a mere mortal rob God? Yet you rob me." How? Because all the money you earned on that pay check isn't yours in the first place. It all belongs to God - not a tenth, not a portion, all of it. So when it's time to pay your tithe, what you're actually doing is accepting the gift of 90% from God, not giving 10% to God. When you look at it like this, it kind of changes things, doesn't it? Alright, now let's get technical for a second. When you look at your pay stub, you'll notice that the government has taken it's portion, and you've probably paid for insurance on this check. Before you curse about it, consider changing the way you view your check. Those deductions, while they seem painful, are done on your behalf as a courtesy. I assure you that if you opted not to have taxes deducted from your pay check, you would be very sore come April 15 when your tax bill was due. God is not concerned with your tax deductions and your insurance premiums and your stock options. God is concerned that you test Him in this. As you write your tithe check this month, be aware of what God is asking you to do - live with the 90% He's gifting you with, and He will keep only 10% in His church.

In preparing for my ladies group this morning, and the brief discussion we had on giving, I felt God tugging at me on this subject. He led me to some fascinating numbers, and I really felt convicted after this brief period of research. See if you feel the same way...

The average annual income in Guatemala (a place near and dear to my heart) is $2,630. That's less than one of my husband's paychecks - after taxes! The average annual income in the United States is $41,400. And the average annual income here in Sugar Land, Texas is $86,231. Truly I live in a blessed community. Now, the bottom 85% of the world's population earns $2,182 a year, or about $5.98 per day. The top 10% earns $25,400 a year. The top 5% earns $33,700 a year, and the top 1% earns $47,500 a year, or about $130.14 a day. Most of the people I know would fall into the top 1/10 of 1% in earnings. "Wealthy Americans" are considered to be those making $150,000 a year or more, despite the average American being in the top 2% of the world's wealth. Of those considered "wealthy", only about 1% of them gave a full tithe. Only roughly 1.9% of American wealth is given annually, even though a tithe is 10%. In general, the more money a person makes, the less likely he or she is to tithe. 37% of regular church-goers did not give at all last year, and only 3-5% of church-goers gave a full tithe. The average church-attendee gave $643.67 in 2004.

The numbers are discouraging. They tell a very different story than the one God illustrates in the Old Testament. He doesn't want our half-hearted attempt at giving. You think God needs your money?? I doubt the God who parted seas, started plagues, sends angels, and miraculously placed His son in a virgin's womb needs the 3-5% we've been offering. No, what He wants is our hearts. He wants our hearts to give - generously, and cheerfully - to show that we understand that the money we earn every month isn't really ours at all. It's all His. And we graciously accept 90% of that money as stewards and investors of His wealth. We can't give God 10% of our money. We don't have any. He just lets us keep some of it.

As a personal testimony, I just want to share with you a brief story regarding tithing. In years previous, my husband and I were reluctant to tithe. Like most Americans, I think we just felt that the tithing was really a way to ensure our pastor got his new car, kept his nice suburban home, and sent his kids to Christian private school. We felt convicted at times to give to ensure our church could maintain programs that we used, keep lights on, and continue special activities. But, we just never really felt the need to give regularly. We were cheerful and generous, but not tithers. We didn't offer God the blemish-free sacrifice He wanted. After reading Malachi, we felt very convicted. Test me in this. It became clear that, at the very least, we knew that God had been faithful to His promises thus far and we had no reason to believe He wouldn't be faithful in this. In January of 2011, we began to tithe - a full tithe - every two weeks. When the paycheck came in, the first check we wrote was to the church. Honestly, it was painful at first. We had grown so used to spending that money on our own selfish desires, it was very hard to part with it. After a time, though, we weren't even aware that it was "gone." And despite the 10% decrease in our available funds, we were noticing that our lives were so incredibly blessed! My husband got a raise, which even after 10% tithe more than made up for the difference. We were able to pay off debt and create even more margin in our budget. But then something really amazing happened. We began to notice that our overall charitable giving went up! We had money left over at the end of the month that we were able to give to other organizations and charities that could benefit from our gift. We couldn't stop giving! And the more money we gave away, the more money God seemed to give us. My husband and I both were able to go on foreign mission trips. We gave to the cause nearest and dearest to our hearts - Living Water International. We were able to begin a relationship with a child from WorldVision and in our partnership were able to give clean water and medicine to a rural community in Guatemala. We have made anonymous donations to other local charities and causes - all in addition to our regular tithe! We took God up on His challenge - and He did everything He said He would. I would encourage you to do the same. Your money will not go to waste. In fact, you will find yourself blessed beyond belief. Even if God chooses not to give you a single dime in exchange, you can rest assured that what He will do in your life and in your heart will be worth every single penny and then some. It is by far the best, safest, and easiest investment you can ever make - In God We Trust.

Valentine's Day Gift-Giving 101

My husband is an excellent gifter. Me, on the other hand, not so much. It's not that I can't think of great gift ideas. It's just that my husband is difficult to shop for. If he wants something, he usually just buys it for himself. And the stuff he wants that he doesn't buy is out of my price range, or too technical for a non-geek like myself. But it stinks to come together on Valentine's Day and not give anything to my sweetie. What to do? This year, I gave it a lot of thought. And here's what I came up with:

Speak his language.
I believe very much in Dr. Chapman's Five Love Languages. If you haven't read his book, I highly encourage you to do so. It's definitely an eye-opener. When I discovered which language my husband was speaking, it literally changed my marriage. And it made my gifting plan come together in a completely simple, yet (hopefully) effective way.

Dr. Chapman tells us that there are five love languages - ways in which we "hear" and "speak" love to others, and usually you speak the language that you want to hear. I'm a "Quality Time" person, meaning I feel loved when my sweet husband spends time with me. He is an "Acts of Service" person - he feels loved when I volunteer to do things for him that he might otherwise have to do himself. There's also a "Words of Encouragement" person. This person needs to hear uplifting words and praise to feel loved (this may be my secondary language). "Personal Touch" people enjoy hugs, kisses, and closeness to feel love. And finally, "Gifts" people like to receive tangible gifts to feel loved.

This, of course, is highly simplified. Again, I encourage you to read this book. Especially as a couple - you will learn a lot about yourself, your spouse, and your relationship. But when I began to think in these terms, I kind of gathered up a few ideas for the other Valentines in my life who might appreciate hearing "I Love You" in their language. I hope this helps!

Quality time. Being a person who speaks this language, it's easiest for me to discuss this topic. A "QT" person needs a gift that speaks this language loudest. One of the sweetest "gifts" I ever got from my sweetie is when he rented a video and we spent the afternoon on the couch. I know that seems so simple, and even cheap, but it really was the best. Why? Because we were doing something together. Quality time. Not just two people in the same room, but two people engaged in something together. The key word for a quality time person is together. If you have a quality time person on your list, think about an activity that you can both do - without distraction. It'll mean the most.

Personal touch. This might very well be most men. They seem to have the highest drive for being touched - intimately - and often. But don't limit this category to sex because there is a lot more to personal touch than sex. A personal touch person likes you to sit close, hold hands, and be hugged. Your proximity means a lot. It's hard to give a gift to a personal touch person, but with a little creativity you can make it happen. Consider a massage or something that involves your bodies close together. Again, don't limit this to sexual touching.

Words of encouragement. This person is all about the old-fashioned Valentine. They like to see your handwriting telling them how much they mean to you. They also like for you to actually speak it. This person feels most loved when you speak considerately - "thank you" and "please" go a long way with this person. This being my secondary love language, I find it to be so invigorating when my husband tells me he likes my cooking, he appreciates the way I handled something, or he likes the way I look. It's the verbalization of his feelings that means a lot. And having it written down is always a good idea for a words of encouragement person, because they will be able to look back on it and remember how you felt.

Gifts. This category has always been difficult to me because neither my husband nor myself are gifts people. We both appreciate them, but they don't necessarily speak love to us in the way that someone who is a gifts person would hear. A gifts person appreciates tangible objects to display love. Obviously, a gifts person would be your best bet for jewelry and flowers. But don't think that if you have a gifts person in your life that you can just throw a gift at them and be done with it. Gifts people are usually a little bit picky. They want a gift that shows you know their style, their taste, and their personality. My mother was a gift person. But she was not a fan of diamonds. It was unwise for my dad to think that buying her a diamond was the best Valentine ever. She loved aquamarines. If you are giving a gift, think about the person you are buying for. If she hates chocolate, a box of candies might not work. If she loves silver, buying a gold pendant might not be the best thing. And if she's allergic to flowers, a bouquet might not be your best bet.

Acts of service. This is my husband. He feels most loved when he sees things done for him with a cheerful heart. For example, if I volunteer to take my middle son to Boy Scouts so he can watch the football game, he knows that I love him. If I volunteer to go to the grocery store and get him his favorite snack, he feels loved. But it's hard to serve a person a Valentine. I gave it a lot of thought - several days in fact. Finally I got it - a coupon book. Yes, that is a bit cheesy. But I thought of things that he would appreciate having done for him and gave him a coupon for it. He will probably never cash it in, but I know what was in that book, and I can serve him throughout the year by doing things that I promised to do in the coupon book. He will feel loved not just on Valentine's Day, but all year long as I serve him and speak the language of love that his ears are tuned to.

Valentine's Day is kind of goofy. But it can be so much fun, too, when you can go out of your way to speak love into your Valentine's heart in a way that he or she will hear and understand... and reciprocate.

For more information on Dr. Chapman's Five Love Languages, click here.

My visit to the Holocaust Museum

Today my family and I visited the Houston Holocaust Museum. I knew long before we arrived that I get a little emotional about these kinds of things, but I don't think I knew exactly what I was in for. I have to say that had I know how my heart would break, I may not have gone inside.

As a girl, I visited the Holocaust museum in Los Angeles - an experience I may NEVER forget. If you haven't ever been, I urge you to. But be prepared. The tour includes pictures, video, audio, and documents that will move you. But there is also a section of the tour that includes an experience (or at least it did when I was there over 15 years ago). I remember it clearly because, being around 14 years old or so, it shook me. At one point in the museum tour, the guide steps away and a "Nazi" soldier comes to separate families into groups - laborers (men, mostly); women, children, and handicapped; and other "undesirables". The groups then walk to separate areas of the museum. Being a girl, I was sent into a long hallway, lit only by 3 small hanging bulbs, and I was told I was going to be "showered". The lights went out, a distant locking sound clicked on the other side of the large chamber-style door, frantic shouts in German, and the sound of spraying gas into the pitch-black. I felt the room shrink around me. It only lasted about 30 seconds before the lights were back on and we were escorted to another hallway where I was reunited with my parents. Because I was a young girl, I was told, I would likely have been executed in the gas chamber. My dad, strong and stout, went to an area where they given hand tools and directions, in loud, hurried German, for work that would have lasted all day. My mom was also executed in a gas chamber. This experience, though controlled, dramatized, and severely decreased, shook me. How lucky I felt to be born in my generation, and to be Aryan! But my pride quickly vanished upon seeing the pictures of children around my age that were not as fortunate.

Today was a little different. No gas chamber today. No separation from my family. No unfamiliar voices shouting unreasonable demands. Just row after row of faces, somber, desperate faces, silently crying out for justice. And it absolutely broke my heart.

I did very well during the tour until we came to a display with a large photograph. A Nazi soldier stood behind his rifle and prepared to shoot at a woman holding a toddler in her arms. The caption explained that in this way the Nazi would only need to waste one bullet to kill them both. I was not able to contain the tears. I tried to be discrete but it was in vain. I felt a pain in my chest that was both emotional and physical. I knew it would be foolish but a part of me couldn't help but silently cry out to God for this poor woman. I can't begin to imagine what prayers she offered up frantically in the final moments of her life - for her and for her child. I could hear in the recesses of my mind faint distant screaming of that poor baby, and the mother trying to muffle the child, hoping she might not irritate his trigger finger. How her heart must've desperately screamed out! And my tears could not be contained.

We then went to watch a brief video of Holocaust survivors. Each one told of suffering and pain unimaginable to anyone who had not witnessed it for themselves. I have no words for the stories that were told to me through the mouths of these brave souls. Part of me fought the urge to cry while another fought the urge to vomit. My heart flip-flopped between compassion and disgust. I felt waves of sympathy in between the waves of aggression. Once the movie ended, I felt so emotionally drained that I wasn't sure if I had the strength to get up from my seat.

Over a year ago, I earnestly prayed that my heart would break for the things that break the heart of God. I wanted Him to move me. I wanted Him to shake me and open my eyes to the things that matter most to Him. I wanted Him to show me how to further His kingdom, not mine. And today, I felt my soul being wrung out. As terribly sad as it is to see the kind of hatred that was demonstrated over 70 years ago, I realize that this kind of cruel treatment happens in the world today - and goes largely uncontested. If I truly want to know where God's heart is, I need to look into the eyes of His children and see how they are being treated. The children of Darfur, the children of Somalia, and millions of abused, neglected, and otherwise mistreated children of God that occupy our globe... that's where God's heart is. And it breaks for them. I imagine myself as a young child harassing my brother, and looking up into the disappointed eyes of my father, shaking his head... and I know that on a much bigger scale, my Heavenly Father must be doing the same thing.

Don't fail to do something just because you can't do everything.
-Bob Pierce, founder of WorldVision

I'm not sure what I can do just yet. I'm not sure what God wants me to do just yet. But I feel certain that I heard Him speak to me today. My eyes are open. My spirit is willing. Instructions to follow...

Meanwhile, I urge you to find a similar museum to visit. I think Holocaust museums are interesting because it's "recent history". But there are so many human interest museums you can visit. Find a way to be informed, and be open-minded. Make yourself aware and understanding to people who are different from you.

After all, in the end, we meet our fate together.

Mom Blog

If you thought blogging was a complete waste of time and energy, read this article:

Companies pay mom bloggers thousands

I have enjoyed having a forum where my personal and private thoughts can be used as guidance for someone else. But I gotta tell you, making a few spare bucks for having given my opinion sounds pretty enticing. I'm not sure that I would like the idea of feeling pressured to agree with claims made by a particular marketer or manufacturer, but the idea seems appealing nonetheless.

But fear not, friends. I'll not be selling adspace here any time too soon. I think this space is reserved for my pen only.

Something Beautiful

Three and a half years ago, my mom was diagnosed with lung cancer. She had gone into the hospital after feeling short of breath and complaining of wheezing in her chest. Doctors x-rayed her chest and found evidence of pneumonia... and a tumor. She was treated in the hospital for the pneumonia and sent home with orders to follow up with her physician regarding the other diagnostic scans they performed.

This all took place the week of Hurricane Ike. Being a Houston resident, I was evacuated to Oklahoma at my dad's house. Once the storm had safely passed, I packed up my things and left Oklahoma and headed east to my mom's house in Alabama. At this point, no doctor had actually given a clear diagnosis. The word "cancer" seemed taboo.

I went with her to follow up with her family doctor. After what felt like hours and hours, the doctor came in. So sterile and cold with his pressed lab coat and creased slacks, he delivered news that I feel certain any man would dread. "Ma'am, you have a malignant tumor." She nodded her head and seemed virtually unaffected. My step-dad grabbed her hand and squeezed. I felt my jaw lower to my chest. Part of me deep inside had known this was the truth - and probably had been for some time - but I had buried it beneath layers of hopes and wishes for a different outcome. The doctor shook our hands and recommended a few oncologists he knew, then, as cool as he had come, he left the room. The harsh metallic clinical echo of the exam room door shut so loud in my ears, I felt as if my eardrums had burst. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but they were too confused to fall. My mom seemed as though she must've heard a different message than I did. Her face was expressionless and her demeanor suggested that she hadn't quite absorbed the information. No one spoke.

I spent several days with her discussing the options. Her oncologist felt certain that she should immediately begin chemotherapy. Her scans had shown that she was already in Stage 4, meaning the cancer had spread. Tumors occupied her lungs, liver, kidneys, bones, and brain. Doctors told her the treatment would be intense and severe, but that aggressive treatment would be the only way to yield results at this late stage in the disease process. Mom got her chemo port put in and began her first round of toxic medicine.

The process was draining. Her weight dropped significantly. Her appetite was non-existent at best. She became weak and sick. Chemo took it's toll on her appearance, too, turning her skin gray. Her eyes sunk deep in her head and her hair began to fall out. The scans at first seemed somewhat positive, showing the chemo had at least slowed the growth of the tumors, but doctors wanted to press on with even more intense therapy. Mom was a trooper. She proceeded.

After losing half of her hair, she decided to shave it all off. She said, "I don't want cancer to take this from me. I want to choose to let it go." She was so brave, in my opinion. I bought her several scarves, one of which I still have. She learned to wrap her head. She also had several hats, one with a crown on it. So typical. In all of this, she kept smiling, even though no one would believe for even one moment that there was anything to smile about.

We had a family event two weeks before Christmas - one that Mom had invented several years back, called "Thanksmas", which combined the best of Thanksgiving and Christmas. Being in between the two holidays made it easy for my siblings and I to get together to celebrate together. This year, we held Thanksmas at my oldest brother's house. Mom normally took charge of cooking, but was too weak to do it this year. Just a few days before hand, she was unsure if she would even be able to make it. She was just too sick and too weak. Thankfully, she did make it. These are the last pictures we have of her - one family picture, and one of just her and I.


The next round of chemo proved to be less effective. The cancer was spreading much faster than the chemo could kill it. Surgery wasn't an option. In fact, options were very limited. Mom called me one afternoon. I won't ever forget it. She said, "I've decided not to go forward with any more treatment. I'm tired now." She didn't want to discuss it further, and to be honest, neither did I. It was at this moment that I realized something incredibly painful: my mom is going to die.

In the days that followed, our phone conversations became rarer and rarer, and when they did happen, I could hear my mom's voice tiring easily, and she became winded. She did a lot of listening, and not very much talking. The irony is that all I wanted to do was hear her. She told me that in 2 weeks, a hospice nurse would come to the house and set up a place for her to "be comfortable".

A week later, I got a phone call from my step-dad. He said, "She's not well. You should come." I've never packed a bag so fast in my life. I hit the road and began the trek across 3 state lines. I don't know my speed. I honestly don't remember how I got there. But in the early hours of January 10, I made my way up to Mom's hospital room in Montgomery. My heart was racing. My vision was blurred. I turned the corner to the nurse's station and blurted out some words that must've made perfect sense to someone, and they directed me to Drew Burkett, RN, the hospice nurse, and one of God's angels on earth. He explained everything from her hospital discharge, to her daily care, to her final moments. He told me that we could have anywhere from 24 hours to 24 months. I swallowed a lump and he took me to her room.

She recognized me, as I saw her eyes light up, but she couldn't speak. She was in a hospital gown, her bald head bobbling under it's own weight. Her hands were cold and her skin was dry and gritty. She was drooling and gasping. She had lost almost all motor function, and had little control over any of her parts anymore. I fought back tears and embraced her, but she had no reaction. I felt my heart break into 10,000 little bleeding pieces. My mom had never not hugged me back. I knew it wasn't her fault, but that didn't hurt any less.

She was transported to the house via ambulance. My brother and I rushed back to her house to get it ready. A hospital bed was delivered. Drew, the hospice nurse, came to make an assessment. Around 1600 that afternoon, he told us that he believed she had 24-48 hours.

Having had nursing experience, and having taken care of patients in the end-stages of life, Drew entrusted a lot of responsibility to me. I felt that I would be more than capable of handling it. But I was simply unable to shift from my daughter hat to my nurse hat and back again. My brother took over giving her morphine for comfort. I stayed at her bedside. Her respirations fell to around 6 per minute, and were labored. She began what is called the "Death Rattle". Essentially, she was drowning in her own secretions. We took turns saying our silent good-byes. I held her hand. I looked at her and said in a whisper, "I love you, Mommy," just like the toddler I felt like. She squeezed my hand! I invited the family in close to pray. It was hard for my mouth to form the words, but I asked God to be merciful. Hungry for air, her body fought to draw breath, but could find none. Holding her hand, she slipped silently into the night. Drew declared her around 2020 on the night of January 10.

The next few days are a blur to me. We prepared a funeral, transported her body to Georgia, and arranged for her closest friends and family members to come. The phone calls were hard. I felt as if I had gone through a forest of tissues! Pastor Kenny called and we prayed via telephone. I called my dad and my husband.

Her service was exactly as she wanted it. Mostly a celebration. She would've hated all the crying, though. A few of us spoke at the graveside. Her flowers were gorgeous, and she would've really treasured that. I still have the roses. There were lots of kind words and loving embraces, and that was wonderful. But I missed her so much.

My longing for Mom turned into anger at God. I had always heard that He would use all things for good. What good would ever come out of my mom having to die, me having to suffer, or any of us having to experience this pain? God, if you're going to use this, you need to let me in on what's up here! I just don't understand...

A few months later, my husband gave his life to Christ. He said he now understood that he was unable to comfort me in my mourning because he lacked understanding about life and death. He couldn't give me love and peace he didn't possess - the kind that "transcends all understanding," and "will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:7).

I am currently walking in a charity walk for cancer research. I hope that you will help support me in the 2012 Houston CureSearch Walk. You can make a donation online if you click here.

I hope that you will help me turn this terrible event into something beautiful...