The next step

A small moment of truth, that I don’t really want to share, but think I am supposed to. 

You never reach perfect. 

Duh. 

You all know that. 

But have you accepted it? 

God is not done with you. 

God will never be done with you. 

God is not “done” with me.

God will never be “done” with me. 

I don’t get to find my purpose and just be good at it. 

I have to keep learning, and keep growing, and keep letting HIM lead. 

Some days that is harder than others. 

Spiritually and physically.

I am struggling with words. 

I want to have depth, and meaning, and bring growth to your life. 

I want God to use me dramatically.

I want to have a purpose that changes the world. 

 Instead, I have a headache, and some fear of what comes next. 

This is what comes next.

https://www.epilepsy.com/learn/treating-seizures-and-epilepsy/surgery/tests-surgery/wada-test

Next Friday, Valentine’s Day, we move to the next test. 

The week in the hospital revealed a lot, but some of it brought new questions. 

How much of my brain do I use? (Perhaps more than they expected?)

How much of it can I afford to do without?

Definitely questions I want to know the answer to before we decide to cut part out. 

On a happier note:

Last day with staples! 

Don’t they look cool?

27 of them, all over my head, ready to come out tomorrow!

Rejoice in the Lord always, again I say, rejoice!

Philippians 4:4

Make that choice.

Accept that you aren’t perfect, Spiritually or physically.

Then get those staples yanked out and take the next step, rejoicing as you go!

Be blessed my friends!

So that...

 I wasn’t super faithful to write while I was inpatient at UAB. I had some really great, really clear moments. But I also had some really foggy, really confused moments too. That is all the excuse I have to offer. :)
 I am home now. Sleeping in my own bed for two night in a row, with my Andy there next to me. Only staples on my head, nothing high tech. Eating “real” food, while sitting at a table, surrounded by my amazing teens.
 It seems slightly unreal.
 Too good to be true.
 So, when this verse stood out to me this morning, I respected it, a LOT.

 SO THAT...

 We are comforted, we find comfort, we are given comfort, SO THAT we can know how to give it.
 That is breathtaking.
 Every single pain, every single one, can serve a purpose.
 WILL serve a purpose.
 Every comfort we receive, we now know how to give.
 Some are easy to share-

Andy bought me donut holes, small enough bites that I could handle through the pain. 

I can share that joy, the excitement of that simple joy, with others who desire that tiny, easy joy. 

 That tiny, easy, reminder. 

Joy can be found in little tiny bites. 

EEG’S leave you sticky and gross, but with much more annoyance than pain. 

I can share that comfort with others. The simple joy of a shower that you have taken for granted and then suddenly have great respect for. 

I still can’t wash my head, but my body is clean and fresh and oh so appreciated. 

Simple comfort. 

The SEEG leaves some blood behind, 

and some ugly staples, 

but they come out, go away.

A few scars in the skin, soon hidden by hair and smiles. 

Comfort I am now experiencing and will know how to share. 

This picture won’t change direction.

Technology isn’t my friend today...but that seems fitting to go with the theme. 

I have experienced the comfort of an amazing man, who is my teammate. 

Team. 

Together.  

Different strengths and different weaknesses, but a team. 

My team, given as such an inspiring gift. 

Comfort given. 

Comfort I can hopefully know how to properly share.

He sat and held a pager like this twice. Once as they put wires in, and once as they pulled them out. 

And the comfort given during both those times is indescribable, by amazing people who visibly showed love during my entire week in the hospital.

(But a special thank you to Carrie, who knew how to let him be a “manly man” during a time of fear and yet also how to show him love)

Leaving us with this fascinating pile of wires that at one point were screwed into my head. 

And now aren’t. 

Healing is still occurring.

Knowledge is still needed, from more testing, before we have answers about what comes next and what my future holds. Whether seizures can be “beaten”.

 But I have experienced so much comfort, and now will have the experience to share it with others.

If that is the only thing I ever get from this, that is enough. 

I will ask for more. 

I will pray that God gives us knowledge from this and that doctors have ideas of how to use it for repair of my brain and body. 

But...

Comfort to share with others is enough. 

“So that...When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort.”

Every single pain, every single one, can serve a purpose. 

 WILL serve a purpose. 

Think on that, my friends. Feel the amazing comfort that you have received, from many different experiences, and choose to remember the gift that it is. 

 Then turn around and give it. 

Give comfort.

Be blessed!

Recovery time

It is SO good to be home.

 Christmas was absolutely fabulous. We had a wonderful time visiting with a lot of family, and even a few friends... although perhaps we should just call them family too, since I think Andy and Corey are practically brothers! We ate delicious food, opened fun presents, found a few great deals at the after Christmas shopping, ate some more delicious food, stayed up WAY too late over and over again.

 Now, we are home. 

 And it just feels so good. 

 I loved the visiting and the game playing (side note: Quelf is hilarious - check it out if you get a chance), the eating and the laughing. But for some reason, coming home just feels really nice. 

 I have laundry to do, and unpacking to tackle. There are presents to find permanent places for and shelves that are going to have to be cleaned out. My fridge (finally) does not stink anymore, (for anyone who cares, it was black beans that decided to play a huge game of espionage, and trick me into thinking they were much much fresher then they actually were... but anyway) -  I totally forget where I was going with that sentence. Oh yes - food must be thrown away. Christmas cookies are no long yummy when they are two weeks old! 

 Tomorrow is Monday, which means homeschool Co-op. We need toothpaste and body wash for Canaan, and I know that there is no way that I can walk into Target and walk back out again with ONLY those two things. Which means, my day tomorrow is pretty much shot. 

 However, even with that huge hodgepodge of craziness hanging over me, (and that doesn't even include the fact that I still have to feed my family regular meals now... no more eating cookies and candycanes, or the lovely meals that other people make!!)  even with all that, it still feels good to be home. 

 There is just something about your own four walls. 

My own pillow- which is calling to me. 

"Bethany... come... I have missed you."