Small-Town Preacher's Wife

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and of a sound mind.” 2 Tim 1:7

About two weeks ago, our family took a spontaneous overnight trip to downtown Denver. Our oldest daughter, Naomi, who is 8 years old, loves downtown. It is her favorite place to go in Denver. She loves all the tall buildings, and especially the Sixteenth Street Mall. So one day when the kids were out of school, and we were all looking forward to some family time together, Tim pricelined a 4-star hotel and got a good deal and we all went downtown to spend the night in a high-rise hotel. We stayed on the 21st floor and the girls had a blast looking out the window and watching the cars drive by below us.

The Sixteenth Street Mall has lots of stores, a free shuttle train that runs up and down the street, a variety of places to eat, a Barnes & Noble (that’s my favorite) with a train table for kids to play (that’s Sarah’s favorite), some pretty good street musicians, and it also has a lot of homeless people. It makes sense to me that they’d pick this as a place to stay. There are lots of visitors, most of whom appear to have money to give away since they’re just shopping the day away. So there are homeless people on almost every corner or sitting on benches, with their backpacks and rolling carts.

I have never given money to anyone on the street and I don’t volunteer in homeless shelters. I struggle with this, because I believe that homeless people are overlooked and marginalized. I believe many of them are on the streets due in part to circumstances beyond their control–maybe they are mentally ill, maybe they just fell on hard times and didn’t have a supportive family to fall back on. Many times I think, “But for the grace of God go I.” I am blessed to have extended family that loves me and cares for me. If something happened to cause me to lose my home, I don’t think they would let me live on the streets. That is not true for some. The economy has surely had an effect on the homeless population. People lose jobs, then lose homes. Anyway, it is safe to say that I am sympathetic toward the homeless. Yet I do not interact with them. I don’t talk to them or touch them. Tim and I support many charities and missions, but I don’t even want to look them in the eye when we walk by–or they might talk to me.

To be honest, I am afraid of homeless people. I have a fear of contamination. When Tim is cooking, I am often following him around the kitchen making sure that raw meat doesn’t get anywhere and that the utensils used for raw meat go straight in the dishwasher. I’m always trying to clean up after him before he’s done and I’m sure it’s very frustrating for him! If a clean shirt accidentally gets dropped in the dirty clothes basket, that’s it–it is now dirty, too. And I hate, hate, hate picking up shoes. Who knows where shoes have been, really? Honestly, I am better than I used to be, but the dangers of transmitting germs and bacteria and such still stresses me out. This fear transfers to homeless people, and I am ashamed of it, but it’s true.

While on our trip to Denver, we went out to breakfast. We went to McDonald’s on the Mall, because that’s our favorite fast-food breakfast. We typically get 3 of the “Big Breakfast with Hot Cakes” platters and divide it up between the five of us. McDonald’s on the Mall is a magnet for the homeless population, probably because it’s cheap and it’s indoors. To illustrate how popular the location must be, there is a sign in the restaurant that says, “No Backpacks Allowed.” Every time we go to this restaurant, I always see at least three or four customers who seem to be homeless, who have all their bags and possessions gathered around them.

This morning, I went up to the counter to get some cups of water for myself, Tim, and Naomi and Rachel. We aren’t coffee drinkers and we don’t want to drink soda first thing in the morning, so we had just asked for cups of water with our meals. This restaurant had a self-serve water cooler on the counter, so I was filling up four cups of water. A man who appeared to be homeless came up to the counter, and asked the employee for a cup of water. The answer was that a cup of water cost X amount of money if it wasn’t purchased with a meal. This man said he did not have any money, and asked if he could just have a cup. The employee–who clearly had been told this policy many times over by his manager/boss–got a little uncomfortable and said he was sorry but couldn’t give it away. I was RIGHT NEXT to this man filling up four cups of water, so I handed him one of ours. He (and the employee) both thanked me. We had a short conversation and he did ask for help getting a bus ticket to Louisiana, but I told him I couldn’t help him with that.

I realize now that this was the first time I have ever talked to someone who was probably homeless. As a Christian, I know Jesus spent much time with the forgotten and forsaken of society. And I believe the Bible is true, so I believe the verse at the top of this post–“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” Yet my anxiety still goes up when we walk past a homeless person. I surely hope God is not done with me yet.

This is the story of Joanna’s birth. I believe I have kept it all pretty G-rated, but please be advised, if you don’t like to read birth stories, STOP HERE!

Joanna was born on July 23 after a scheduled induction. Why did I decide to be induced? Primarily because by the 23rd, she was one week past her due date and I was quite tired of being pregnant. For the last two weeks or so of my pregnancy, I experienced contractions on a regular basis. I began to immediately react with annoyance to anyone who mentioned “just Braxton Hicks” contractions. Call them what you want–but they were decidedly uncomfortable, they happened every evening for hours in a row, and they never progressed into true labor. I eventually quit paying attention to them, after getting tired of timing contractions that went on and on and then just stopped. My body just seemed incapable of going into labor. At my 40-week prenatal appointment, my midwife asked me what I wanted to do, and I replied that I wanted to have a baby. So they scheduled me for an induction for the following Monday.

I knew going into the hospital on that Monday that it was going to be a long process. I’d been at 1 cm for the past two or three weeks with little or no change. They began by checking the baby’s position via ultrasound. Turns out little Joanna was head-down, which is good, but face-up–which is not so good! Her head, because it was not turned face-down, was not able to put very much pressure on my cervix, thus not causing it to dilate. My midwife gave me two pills to swallow to induce contractions, and then left me alone for four hours to see if they made any effect. I was able to get some rest, and even eat lunch. After four hours, at 1:00 p.m., I had dilated to 4 cm, and we were all encouraged. The midwife suggested waiting a couple of hours to see if my body continued laboring on its own before trying any other medications. When they checked me again at 3:30, however, I was still at 4 cm and the contractions weren’t getting any stronger (though I was pretty tired of them).

At that time, I decided to request an epidural, which was the part I was dreading the most. I’ve had epidurals with all of my 3 previous deliveries, but  the last one was not a good experience and I was afraid of having a similar experience again. On the other hand, I was MORE afraid of an unmedicated delivery. I also have a history of postpartum hemorrhaging, and if it happened again, I didn’t want to go through the process of fixing me back up without pain medication. I was so relieved when the epidural went smoothly and without any problems. The anesthesiologist was great, there were absolutely no side effects or complications, and I relaxed completely for the first time in weeks. The midwife started the dreaded pitocin around 4:00, after the epidural was administered, and we all settled down to wait some more.

I was resting in bed, feeling better than I had in a long time, and hoping to get a nap in, when my midwife comes in with one of her supervising OBGYN’s. I had not met this doctor before, as I had only seen midwives with this pregnancy. I was surprised he was coming in, but thought maybe he was here to break my water. The first thing he said after introducing himself was, “Well, we don’t think the bleeding is fetal tissue.”

WHAT??? To back up, I had started bleeding during labor earlier in the day, but as my midwife did not seem concerned about it, I had not been worrying about it either. Now the doctor comes in talking about fetal tissue! (And besides, didn’t he mean “baby”? I mean, aren’t we way past “fetus” at this stage, regardless of when you believe life begins? I digress…) Even though he stated that the baby’s heartbeat was strong and steady, and that they did not believe it was blood from the baby (Thank God), I was shocked because I had not even realized that had been a possibility.

Well, the doctor’s visit didn’t go much better after that. He repeated that the baby didn’t seem to be in danger, but he advised having the baby as soon as possible. (I was totally OK with that, but felt he should really be addressing that to Joanna and not myself.) He went over my history of postpartum hemorrhages and recommended various medications to be administered immediately after birth, to hopefully prevent or stop it from happening again, which I agreed to. He then asked me, “What I need to know is, how valuable is your uterus?”

Again–WHAT??? I think I stammered something out, while my midwife, who was right next to me, immediately responded, “It’s valuable!” The doctor asked if we planned on having any more children. I answered that we had never really discussed it, but we certainly hadn’t decided NOT to have any more, either. (At least that is what I meant to reply. I’m not sure what I really said. I was having trouble thinking clearly.) The doctor continues, stating that in cases of hemorrhaging, the main cause of maternal death is when doctors work too long trying to save the uterus, and when they finally decide to remove it, it’s too late to save the mother. Ahhhh! In the space of twenty minutes I’ve been in conversations about fetal tissue and maternal death. I managed to tearfully say that I wanted to be here for the children that I already have, and Tim agreed. The conversation continues a little more and then the doctor leaves.

My midwife remains and calms me down a little. Honestly, at this point in labor, I am convinced that I am going to go home with a hysterectomy. I’m pretty overwhelmed. However, Joanna decides to kick things into gear, and labor begins to progress pretty swiftly, leaving little time for contemplation.

Around 7:30, I have dilated to 6 cm, and then it seems it’s just a few minutes later that I feel her moving down, and ask the midwife to check again. Sure enough, I was fully dilated and ready for delivery. Joanna was born at 8:12, perfectly healthy and beautiful. As soon as she was born, the nurses gave me a shot (which I didn’t even feel, thanks to the epidural!) to prevent hemorrhaging, and I didn’t even have a postpartum hemorrhage. Everything turned out absolutely ideally. I had a wonderful time bonding with Joanna as they let me hold her skin-to-skin right after delivery for as long as I wanted. I began nursing her within an hour after her birth, and my parents, Naomi, and Rachel, were able to come and see their little sister shortly after that. All in all, my recovery from this birth was easier and faster than any of the others.

Joanna is a true joy and blessing to our family. Her birth was wonderful and perfect and I know God answered many prayers on that day. I am so thankful she is here now!

Well, she’s not quite here…yet. But somehow I don’t think I will have time to put up this post after her birth! For our baby shower, I was asked to write about how and why we chose Joanna Grace as the name for our fourth daughter. I enjoyed thinking and writing about the process so much that I wanted to share it. Here is what I said at the shower:

We chose the name “Joanna Grace” after much careful thought and prayer. Because all three of our older children have Biblical names, we felt we needed to continue that tradition so this baby would not feel “left out.” I did some brainstorming, research, and polled many of my friends, and made a list of every female name I could think of that had its roots in the Bible–either the name of a person or place in the Bible, or a Biblical character trait. I ended up with a list about 4 1/2 pages long, that listed each name, its Biblical reference, and its meaning.

I prefer names that are not overly popular, but not too uncommon, either. Growing up with the name “Audra,” I ran into many people who didn’t know how to pronounce my name and had never heard the name before. While I grew to love my name and its uniqueness as I got older, I have to admit there were times as a child when I wished I were “Jennifer.” I’m guessing that that experience has probably influenced my preference for names that are easily recognizable.

Out of my list of names, there were a few that appealed to us the most. Some of them were Bethany, which is the name of a city that is frequently referred to in the Gospels; Anna, who is a prophetess who recognized Jesus when his parents presented Him at the Temple (Luke 2:21-38); and Abigail, who became King David’s wife in 1 Samuel.

But overall, I was most drawn to Joanna. Before I even knew that Joanna was a person in the Bible, I liked the name. I remember putting her name into www.biblegateway.com, just on the chance she was there.  I couldn’t see myself choosing a name that wasn’t in the Bible, given the reasons I already mentioned, but I just really liked Joanna. I was thrilled to find that she IS in the Bible! And more than that, she was a wonderful woman of faith. Joanna is only mentioned in two verses: Luke 8:3, and Luke 24:10. In Luke 8, we learn that Joanna was one of many women who were healed by Jesus and then traveled with Jesus and helped support Him during his ministry. (The name’s meaning, “God is gracious,” makes perfect sense, as she experienced His healing power and then dedicated herself to His service.) Even more awesome, in Luke 24, we learn that Joanna was one of the women who went to the tomb on Easter morning, only to find that the stone was rolled away and Jesus had risen! What an awesome woman and role model for our daughter.

Although I loved the name Joanna from day one, Tim was a little more cautious. He was concerned that it was too uncommon. I proceeded with another Facebook poll. This time, I asked all my friends who knew anyone named Joanna to please comment so on Tim’s page. We both got many responses! And, after more time and prayer, we agreed that it is the right name for our daughter.

We chose the name “Grace” for different reasons. I originally intended to use “Grace” as Sarah’s middle name. But during my pregnancy with Sarah, I realized that Grace did not describe her personality as well as “Joy.” And so we decided on Sarah Joy, which fits her perfectly. With Joanna, I have felt from an early time in this pregnancy that she is a little quieter and more introspective than, perhaps, her next two oldest sisters. Even in the womb, she is not as active, and generally speaking, I have a great sense of peace and calmness surrounding this pregnancy, her birth, and her as a person. Because of this I felt “Joanna Grace” was the best description of who she is.

“You can’t outgive God.” This is what my mom told me after I related to her the many blessings our family received today. Wow! God is so good–all the time. He has given us all we need — the opportunity to know Him through Jesus Christ, the ability to receive free salvation through Jesus’ death and resurrection, and the promise of eternal life with Him in Heaven if we give Him our lives. Yet He still pours out other gifts. And today, I saw God’s hand in a number of blessings.

It began this morning, when a new friend and neighbor knocked on my door. She had been going through some of her kids’ toys and wanted to know if we would like a Tinker Bell kitchen set. Well, let’s see…we have 3 little girls…YES, we’d love a Tinker Bell kitchen!

I rearranged the living room to accommodate the kitchen, and in the process had to remove Sarah’s baby swing to make some more room. Sarah, now almost one, does not really like the swing anymore and I don’t use it often. But our house is small and I had nowhere to store it. On a whim, I asked the same neighbor, who has a baby herself, if she needed a swing. Yes! She’d love one! So I sent her home with Sarah’s baby swing.

I had a few hesitations about giving away the swing. It’s in a great shape. We used it for all 3 of our children. We plan on having more babies–maybe soon–and so it would be used again in the future. But here is someone who can use it now, so off it goes.

Later in the morning, Tim returned from working the God’s Garden produce stand. God’s Garden is a ministry our two church families run. A team plants, maintains, and harvests a 3-acre garden, and holds a Free Market Stand in front of each church on Saturday mornings. The hours the team members put in are long, hot, and dirty. Yet all of the produce is first offered to those in the community, instead of to the workers. Members of our church labor in the garden, weeding & picking, without bringing anything home for their own families. On Saturdays, the stand is open for about an hour. Then, after the first fruits have been given away to anyone who comes to the stand — with no limits placed on how much anyone can take — the leftovers are divided among the workers. When Tim returned home this morning, there was a bountiful remainder for us to choose from! We selected bunches of carrots, stalks of corn, tomatoes, pickles, onions, green peppers, zucchini and squash. What a blessing!  (The remaining produce will be sent to four area churches for distribution at worship services.)

After picking 4 bags full of free produce, I set off to check out a clothing exchange. A church in the next town had advertised in the paper that they were holding a community clothing exchange. Basically, a free yard sale! Anyone could drop off unwanted clothes on Friday, and anyone could come and “shop” for free today!

I showed up not knowing what to expect, and I am so glad I came. The church’s gym was full of clothes from infants to maternity to adult sizes. It was simply set up as an honor system — take what you need. We use a lot of hand-me-downs in our household full of girls, but there are always a few gaps to be filled, and Naomi, the oldest, needed some new things in a larger size. I was looking for some new things for myself, as well. I rarely ever add to my wardrobe and so I was very excited to find jeans, shorts, and several tops–all of which actually fit when I got home and tried them on! I left with a huge bag full of clothing for our family. I was especially thankful to find a pair of Robeez shoes and a warm sleeper for Sarah, pajamas and shoes for Rachel, and many shirts and pants along with two good pairs of shoes for Naomi.

So I am coming to the end of my day with a full and grateful heart. You really can’t outgive God. What could I possibly “give” that wasn’t His already anyway? Or that could even compare to His gifts? “If you give, you will receive. Your gift will return to you in full measure, pressed down, shaken together to make room for more, and running over.” Luke 6:38

When I fall behind on writing my blog, it becomes so much harder to start again!  So much has happened, I feel that I can’t catch back up again. I often feel the same way when I get behind reading my Bible. I plan to read it every day, then when I skip a day, it is harder for me to just jump back in. Why is that?

This past week was mostly awesome (except for Sarah, who came down with strep throat!) Our church and another church in our town, High Plains Harvest, came together to host Vacation Bible School in our town. I love to see our churches working together. It has been a real blessing to get to know the people from High Plains and to work with them in so many different outreaches. Our churches are both small and we are able to accomplish together what neither of us could do alone. And the focus is just on pointing people to Jesus!

We held the VBS at the local school and park and over the course of the week, approximately 65+ kids came through our doors! I was able to be a Crew Leader and worked with mostly upcoming 2nd and 3rd graders. Naomi was in my group, and so I got to have some special time with her, too. I was totally worn out at the end of each day, but in a good way!

Sarah went to the nursery on Monday and Tuesday. I also chose this week to start weaning. Since I was going to be away from her for 3-4 hours each morning, I decided to send her with formula instead of trying to pump enough milk for the week. As of today, I have now given up the morning feeding for 6 days. Sarah adjusted fine to the formula, but on Tuesday afternoon she came down with a high fever. Tim ended up staying home with her on Wednesday and Thursday so that I could continue being the Crew Leader at VBS. It was quite a juggling act.

Here comes my rant. I called our doctor’s office for the first time on Wednesday evening (after hours) because Sarah had slept for over 6 hours that day and I was concerned about her being too lethargic. At the time, she was not running a fever. The doctor advised comfort care and I was fine with that. Thursday morning, her fever came back. I called our doctor’s office again at 8:30 Thursday morning, reporting the return of fever and requesting that I bring her in. She also had a congested cough and runny nose. The nurse asked about her fever, and I said it had been 102.5 on Tuesday, 101.4 on Wed. morning, and that I didn’t know her exact temperature at the moment but that I knew it was high. She said Sarah needed to run a fever of 101 or high for more than 3 days (before I could bring her in). I said, “Well, she ran it on Tuesday, Wednesday, and now again today.” She said to give her one more day and call Friday if it was still up. Oh, and she told me they don’t worry about the cough because it could last for 3 weeks.

Sarah’s fever went away around lunchtime on Thursday and did not come back. She was not as lethargic, and she was eating OK, but she was not her usual self. She went to the nursery on Friday morning and the nursery workers all told me that she was not acting like her normal self, and had been pulling at her ears. I called the doctor’s office around noon on Friday and again asked, very directly, to bring her in for a doctor to see her. After an hour and a half of phone tag with the triage nurse, I finally spoke to her and explained all of Sarah’s symptoms. I said that while she wasn’t running a fever anymore, I was not sure what was going on with her, and it seemed to be something new every day. The nurse advised me that I should take her to the emergency room because they didn’t have any openings for more appointments that day! Well, I am not going to take a child to the emergency room when it’s not an emergency, and sit there for 6 hours and probably get exposed to worse germs than what we brought with us! I decided to take Sarah to an Urgent Care, where she was seen within an hour. Her ears were fine, but the strep culture came back positive. I left vindicated with a prescription for amoxicillin.

The episode has reinforced my faith in my “Mom Instincts.” I had seriously been doubting whether Sarah was ill or not when I left to go to Urgent Care. Maybe it was just a bad cold. Or a virus that had to run its course. Maybe she was almost over it anyway. Maybe I should wait through the weekend and call the doctor on Monday. I went to Urgent Care feeling kind of foolish, especially since she had no fever, and (of course) wouldn’t cough when the doctor was in the room. I am so glad I listened to myself (and to my mom, who probably would have driven out here to take Sarah herself I hadn’t!). Otherwise her strep would have gone untreated.

End of rant.

On the way home from the pharmacy yesterday, Naomi, who is in the backseat, yells out, “My tooth is gone!” She lost a tooth…somewhere…we do not know where it is…She added, “I’ll still get money for it though.” ha!

So now it’s Saturday, and we are taking a day of rest. The laundry is started, the dishes are done, and all 3 girls are dancing to the CD of VBS songs.

Tim and I have bought a tent. We are planning to introduce our family to camping. Nine years ago, when we got married, I would never have believed that not only would I agree to accompany Tim on a camping trip, but that I would actually (sort of) look forward to it! A few years ago, I believed that my friends who went camping while pregnant, or with babies or toddlers, were a little…crazy? Now I’m joining their ranks.

Last night we set up the tent in the backyard just to test it out. This is how the evening went:

While Tim and the older two girls are in the backyard with the tent, I give the baby, Sarah, a bath to rinse off all the watermelon she had for dinner. Then we got outside to “help.” Mosquitoes are everywhere and the kids (except for Sarah) are covered in bug spray. I am on the swing with Sarah, watching her exposed skin like a hawk so I can slap away any mosquitoes that want a bite of her. Tim and Naomi do all of the tent set-up together. It’s a very nice 9-person tent that has two rooms. Tim and I can both stand up inside it. It takes up most of the backyard. Since we don’t have any sleeping bags yet, we haul the air mattress and lots of blankets and pillows outside to sleep on. Sarah is tired and it’s not time to sleep in the tent yet, so I take her in the house and put her down in her crib.

At 8:30 it is still too hot outside to go to sleep. Tim did not go for my idea of either making s’mores over the grill or in the oven so we go inside to play some board games. The kids are up wayyyy past their bedtime by the time we decide to go back to the tent around 9:30. I get Sarah up (getting a sleeping baby up from her crib=slightly crazy) and carry her out to the tent and we all go to sleep pretty quickly.

Soon after the kids and I have fallen asleep Tim wakes me up. There is a thunderstorm somewhere around us. We can hear the thunder and see some lightning, but it’s not close to us. We discuss going inside, but frankly, I am too tired to be properly concerned about lightning. I remember thinking that at least the tent is not the highest thing in the backyard. What kind of reasoning is that??? You should not expect sleep-deprived moms to have to make rational decisions in the middle of the night. Anyway, I fall back asleep in the middle of our discussion, so you can tell how worried I must have been.

It was kind of cool to go to sleep listening to the breeze and the tree leaves rustle.

Later on, I wake up over and over again because I am FREEZING. Plus I have to go to the bathroom. (I assume the storm passed because there was no more lightning.) I have a dream at one point that we all get up, go in the house and go back to sleep in our nice warm beds. When I wake up after that dream, I throw in the towel, grab the baby, my two pillows, and the pacifier, and make Tim unzip the tent door so Sarah and I can go inside. I check the time: 3:45. So we made it over half the night in the tent.

Tim woke up at 6 and brought Naomi and Rachel in, still sleeping, and put them in their beds while he got ready to go out to the church’s huge garden to do some harvesting for the free community produce stand. The cat jumps on my bed and wakes up Sarah. Not happy with the cat. I finally give up and get up at 7 and make pancakes, which I served to Naomi and Rachel this morning while singing, “I Love The Mountains.” I plan to teach them to sing it in rounds.

Next camping trip, we will have a campfire and s’mores and warm sleeping bags!