Candi-Apple of My Eye

Here I sit this evening, far from family and far from normal, reflecting on the quiet greatness of life. Candice and I are here in Cincinnati tonight, getting ready to start down the hopeful road of change for her. I admire her. She is strong in her demeanor and will. And yet, so precious with her little white ankle socks and her Kit-Kat chocolate eyes. Outside, the roar of semi-trucks  fill the air as billions of snowflakes float gracefully, peacefully, and with ease down to the ground. But in here, Candice is laying against her pile of pillows and with her whisper of a voice, reading a Dora The Explorer book. See, to you and I and her mother, we want to “fix” Candice…make her better. We want to help her sound “normal”. But Candice knows no other for herself. She still smiles and loves and enjoys life the way she has always known it. She herself isn’t out trying to find ways to mask her deficiency. But as her father, I have been placed in charge of caring for her, providing for her, and even making those decisions that will cause her pain, but that in the long run, will be better for Candice.

Today, we met with the doctor that will be working on Candice’s throat in the operating room tomorrow. Candice basically has one vocal cord (you’re suppose to have two.) After much discussion this afternoon, it was brought to my attention that Candice’s very first surgery (the one the other two girls had as well) may be partially to blame for some of Candice’s paralysis of the left cord. Something that potentially saved her life, also took something from her…

In my life, I never know how God is going to reveal Himself. As hard-headed as I am, God finds unique ways to get my attention; to remind me of His “godness.” This afternoon, I was sitting in this large green chair with Candice on my lap. They had me hold her as the doctor stuck a camera up her nose and down her throat so that he could see what all was going on. He said that he is going to do the same thing tomorrow while she is asleep, but he did it today, while she was asleep because he needed to watch everything work while she was talking. From where I was sitting,…I got to watch the screen and see God’s handiwork that is my daughter. I watched the throat open and close. I watched the back of her tongue work to make sounds. And a little later, the doctor walked me through most of the video that was taken.

Tomorrow’s surgery will be much more invasive. The doctor will be looking much further down her throat to assess scar tissue, vocal cord paralysis, and get a look at past surgeries. Based on what he sees, he will be injecting her with one of two different synthetic solutions. Everything he does can be reversed if there is an issue or bad reaction. He is a cautious doctor, despite being a specialist who injects others with man-made tissue-like substances. And for prolonged success, this doesn’t sound like the last trip to the Children’s Hospital in Cincinnati, OH.

With Liz not being here, this is all obviously difficult on her. In fact, due to her pain that is basically endless right now, Liz could potentially be headed for another surgery before the end of the month; prior to our insurance running out. Liz, along with her mother and others, are home caring for the other four kids.

Inside my feeble little mind, when I begin to take on my life, I freak and begin to live scared. Its as if I try and turn myself into Atlas and carry the weight of the world on my shoulders. How can I help to fix Liz? What does Logan need to continue to grow and become who God wants him to be? What needs to be done to better Candice? How severe is the damage to Hudson’s brain? How can I be a better father to Samantha and Madison? Where am I going to find my next career opportunity? But I have to realize that my job is not to be the lighthouse for my family in this storm. No, my role is to make sure the light stays lit; to keep God at the forefront of all stress, fear, and unknown. If I cave, give in, or give up, why would I expect any different from anyone in my family? My question is no longer “If” or “When” God is going change some of the situations in my life, but rather, “God, can I please be here when you do?”

The snow has begun to fall again outside. The fog is settling over the barren trees and the muddy waters of the Ohio River. Candice is enjoying her pizza and Sprite (its her week and its what she wanted). My heart is racing as tomorrow can’t get her fast enough. Tomorrow, I will be pacing the halls once again; just in a different hospital this time.

For those that have asked me how they should pray or told me that you are praying, here’s my list:
1.) Prayer for Liz as she continues to battle the pain of her leg.
2.) Prayer for Candice, that she will get through tomorrow better than medically expected.
3.) Prayer for the doctors and nurses that will be with Candice during the procedure.
4.) Prayer for Logan. I miss him and apparently, according to Liz, he misses me.
5.) Prayer for Hudson, Madison, and Samantha as everything is not normal right now. Prayer for less stress.
6.) Prayer for the weather here. Its already a little crazy and they are expecting more than 5 inches of snow. Lots of wrecks on the news today.
7.) And lastly, (I always seem to tear up when I humble myself enough to ask for prayer over me)…I need some peace and rest. I think that if I shut-up for just a few minutes, when I sit down to ponder all that is swirling around inside my head and heart, I feel a bit broken. I am always fighting the battle of breaking down and telling everyone I am fine. Yes, there is a middle ground, but that peak is so small and so hard to stand on. Thank God, I don’t have to travel alone.

My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (Psalm 73:26)

The Dixon Waltz

So, last Friday afternoon, Liz and I, along with my brother and sister-in-law, were hanging out in the pre-surgery room. We had been in there for hours waiting for the doctors and nurses to come take Liz back to the OR. I stated to the nurse as soon as we arrived that Liz would be a hard stick; that due to all the scar tissue, getting an IV started would be very difficulty. It appears I wasted my breath once again. Of course she couldn’t get an IV going and had to wait for the anesthesiologist to come by and do it.

Eventually, the doctor makes it in. I begin talking to him and before he left the room, we were all engaged in random conversations with him about many different topics. At some point, we got to Liz’s blood disorder. After having talked about Logan and the quadruplets, he stood up, paused, and shook his head. With obvious confused looks on our faces as to why all of that would be so odd to him, he said that most women with the Protein S deficiency are unable to get pregnant, which less, with high-order multiples. Friday afternoon led to another opportunity for praise and thanksgiving over our children.

But isn’t that just like God? Taking the seemingly impossible, the misunderstood, the most random people and turning it all into a masterpiece that only He can take the credit for. It’s as if He loves us so much that He is pleading with us, through modern-day miracles, to come back into a rewarding relationship with Him. Why do we constantly find ourselves living in some sort of caste system of relationships when it comes to God and His creation?

I have never had to serve on a jury. I have never been subpoenaed to appear on the witness stand. I have never had to give a sworn testimony regarding some incident. But I have been a medical advocate for Liz, Candice, Hudson, Logan, and Madison. (Samantha has done fairly well in her almost 5 years of life.) Today was no different. It was another trip to another doctor’s office for the Dixon 7. Have you ever had to have your brain so turned on that as soon as you could rest, your mind turned to mush? I feel like when I am talking to a doctor about Liz’s case, I am constantly trying to make sure I ask all the right questions; did I relay all her medical history; did we discuss all her medicines; what about when she comes home, how do I care for her? And here’s where I am broken…I know Liz’s full medical situation inside and out. I can, in medical terms, discuss the afflictions of her body. I can know what she needs without her having to ask me for it. Why won’t I learn God in the same manner? Why haven’t I put forth the same effort to know my God, who has made Himself very available?

See, I get overjoyed when I am used by God to affect the lives of others. Whether its someone in my own home, someone at my church, or some stranger I met at the gym (incredible conversation tonight with a guy who grew up Muslim, became a Christian at University of North Texas a few years ago and admits that he is just now really wanting to pursue purpose and meaning of life.) I find happiness when the home is a mess and within a couple of hours, it looks great, because of my efforts. When Logan runs back out of his room after I sent him to bed because he says he forgot to give me a hug, I get “life skin” (the little bumps that raise up that remind you that you’re alive and life is good.) When I witness a guy in our men’s group breakdown into tears because he can’t help but express his passion for God, I am reminded of what it takes to see good despite the bad.

Liz continues to heal, but the pain is persistent. New pain seems to arrive daily, but she is a fighter nonetheless. And she is getting better on crutches. Logan is obsessed with school  AND with wanting to be a helper. Let me just tell you this about Logan Chase Dixon…God knew exactly what He was doing when He gave us Logan prior to the quads. The boy forgets to be 5 sometimes. Hudson is having a hard time. Everything seems to be emotionally heightened for him right now. He is a mama’s boy through and through. He needs the security that only a mother can provide. I think Hud is the most affected by Liz’s inability to get around a whole lot. Madison is becoming more and more caring everyday. I believe the phrase “heart of gold” is inscribed on the inside of her chest. Candice…I have a hard time talking about Candi right now without choking up. To know what all we have gone through with her and to know what awaits her next week. Y’all…to hear my baby girl’s true voice for the first time ever at the age of 4…my chest gets tight and my breath hastens; angels’ voices have never been sweeter. Samantha is my hardcore, stone-cold, never back down daddy’s girl.

Tonight, at almost 2 in the morning, I realize that the dance we have been doing lately is like nothing ever mastered before. Two steps forward, one step there, twirl here, flip this way, and turn that way. As soon as we have turned the corner on one issue, another presents itself in living color. One of my biggest prayers as of late is my attitude. I truly want to make sure I am handling each passing moment the way God intended it to be dealt with. And the real answer is, “I’m not.” I get so frustrated over the stupidest of things. I want things my way, now! Phil 4:5 says, “Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near.” Wow…I have been grossly missing the mark on a daily basis. No job, surgeries and procedures right and left, a small apartment, not being able to participate in desired church stuff, and constantly battling worry, fear, anxiety, and self-doubt…dare I ask God for a break? There is a song by the group Mercy Me called “Word of God Speak.” (Listen to it if you have the chance.) The second verse is as follows: “I’m finding myself in the midst of You Beyond the music, beyond the noise All that I need is to be with You And in the quiet hear Your voice.” Instead of seeking some sort of reprieve from the trials of my daily life, why not look for the opportunities to share how God has worked out each and every single situation? If I pray for an end to all this and it hasn’t arrived, perhaps I am praying the wrong prayer. I need…no…I HAVE to stop, stop, stop praying for what I feel I need. I have got to start voicing my recognition of His sovereignty over my life. I mean, look, tonight, we were in the doctor’s office, waiting for the doctor to finish up with some procedure down the hall. Hudson and Samantha were sharing a chair and Madison and Candice were in the other. Logan was hanging out near me, asking about every single question known to man. And Liz was laying on the bed with the wax paper because her pain was too much to sit up. But, we were all together. We don’t always have the luxury of having simple chill time before heading off to bed. By the time we get dinner started, baths given, and all five kids make it to bed, its been an overly full day for everyone. It may not be normal or always healthy, but I’ll take it.

God’s grace is evident by His patience with me. I am as stubborn as they get. And yet, He still talks to me. The Dixon Waltz may not be your cup of tea and it will never be on Dancing With The Stars or as some listed event at the Olympics, but it is my life. Sometimes, the dance is to the beat of nighttime rain, while at other times, it is accompanied by the giggles and laughs of five miracles that medicine and science say shouldn’t be here. Not sure what’s next. Don’t know from which horizon the next storm approaches. But puddle-jumping is always fun after a good downpour.

Goodnight, God…remember me in the morning.

When It Rains…You Get Wet

Majestic is the power of an incoming storm. The wind and rain can drive one to take shelter. Hail can destroy crops, cars, and churches. The rush of rising waters snare all in its path. Yet, we admire its strength before it reaches us. When we are left to assess the damage, we hope to learn from our mistake of just sitting and letting the impending threat turn from amazement to numbness.

I am having a little trouble slowing my heart rate tonight. I worked out late today, but feel my pulse is racing as I recount and relive the day’s events. Anymore, it seems no matter the preparation that goes into planning “my” day, God has lessons I am to reflect on that other if left to my own devices, I would never experience and/or grow from. Each morning, lately anyways, I have the greatest intention of getting this or that done; and at the end of the day, there it sits, untouched. And sadly, this can easily be a testament of where I left God…at the beginning of the day. It does no good to have a “quiet time” or devotional if I don’t choose to allow Him to guide me in all parts of the day. I have got to stop seeing my God has some sort of tag along, but more of as an expedition guide or even a tandem jump instructor. And what’s really bothersome is that I feel closer to God right now than ever before. If I feel this close without taking Him and His will into account throughout my entire day, imagine how much closer I could truly be…thus, how much greater my entire life would be, despite earthly circumstances. Man, I am stubborn!

Update on Liz: My opinion; My perspective, I think Liz has turned a corner. She is not well, but she is doing better. The swelling in her right leg continues to go down. The pain is still very present, but not all-consuming all the time. Liz continues to exist within a state of life that I hope to never fully grasp. I don’t want to know the agony that is felt within her when that shooting pain ignites up through the calve and knee. The cyst that is in the back of her right knee is still there, unchanged. Later in the week, it seems we will be scheduling an appointment with a sports orthopedic. Liz is still unable to fully extend her right leg, thus, tears well up in her eyes when she puts too much pressure on that foot.

In the last few days, Liz’s spirits have been uplifted. She is absolutely choosing to admonish any sort of stronghold of defeat, loss, or self-pity. I am watching on a daily basis as Liz chooses not to be dominated by her life’s weather. Such an attitude inspires me to shut-up and jump into the unknown; unknown to me, but not to my Creator.

Update on Candice: Today, I booked our trip. After several days of discussion, Liz and I have decided that it would work best if just I who would travel with Candi for her procedure. Liz is going to be back here continuing to rest, recover, and prepare for a great rest of the year. As can be imagined, this decision has been tough, particularly on Liz. As a truly loving and caring mother, she wants and needs to be there for her daughter during her time of need. But as she expressed, she needs to be here for our four other children as well. In this way, Liz can be ready to receive Candice into her arms when we return. As of right now, the plan is for Candice to see the doctor in the office on the 9th with the procedure taking place on the 10th. This will be the first step in Candi getting to hear the voice that God has breathed into her. You wanna talk about some life-change. My second daughter has whisper her whole life, even when she is yelling. I will be playing the dual-role of father and medical assistant.

Update on Logan, Hudson, Madison, and Samantha: They’re quiet. They are constantly asking questions like, “Where are we going?”, “What are we doing next?”, “What do you want us to do now, Daddy?” So that Liz is able to rest and recover, if the kids aren’t in school, they are with me wherever I go and whatever I do. They stand in line with me, grocery shop with me, sing funny songs in the van with me, enjoy meals with me, and huddle around me when strangers approach us and think it is their right to pat the kids’ heads and get in their faces. My kids are resilient adapters.

And lastly, a quick word on where I can be found: I found out today that I have bronchitis. (I actually appeared on an x-ray. Such a great feeling to be seen.) Having lunch with a friend, receiving texts from another, and sharing in the burdens of another friend…I feel my life is extremely well-balanced right now. In one corner, I have the crazy-haired man that goes all out no matter the pain. And in the other corner, there is the quiet reserved fighter who takes his shots from the opponent, just waiting for a brief moment of letdown and weakness to make his move. The ring, which I see as my life, is surrounded by fans and onlookers who are shouting out their instructions, ridicule, and cheers. Up next to the mat are those that are looking for a fair fight that ends with the best man winning. And inside the ring with me, roped in on all four sides, but cannot be easily contained, stands my tag team partner. See, there is no ref to call out eye-gouging, head-butting, hits below the belt, or biting. Either you’re all in or you’ve been beaten before the bell ever rings.

I remain tired, weary, and tattered. But, my life isn’t in shambles. It is not an existence of apathy. The other day, the song “The Old Rugged Cross” came to mind. My brother and I used to go with my dad to a nursing home on Sunday afternoons in Shelbyville, Kentucky when I was 10/11 years old. Every week we seemed to sing that song. Here it is years later, far from that old house. That old rugged simple of sacrifice, mercy, and a crazy love is the starting point. I wish some of this would end. I wish financial struggles weren’t so persistent. I wish that my family wasn’t engaged in such a medical war. When David dug his fingers into the dirt, as the bits of loose gravel filled his fingernails, how did he decide that this particular stone was good enough for the task at hand. That rock, in and of itself is incredibly insignificant. But when placed in the skillful hands of artist/soldier/provider, something that is seemingly meaningless has eternal impact…Lord, may you find me in your pouch of ripened treasure.

You have been a refuge for the poor, a refuge for the needy in his distress, a shelter from the storm and a shade from the heat. (Isaiah 25:4)

iGod

I am only 31 years old. Based on the national average lifespan for white males in America, I haven’t even lived half my life. And there are two ways to receive this information. I will either choose to get excited by this because that means I have plenty of blessings ahead in this journey. Or the other choice, is to worry about the amount of suffering, hurting, and stress still to come.

At the beginning of this year, as is the case for many, there was hope in the air for a fresh start; a new beginning;  a year that would be different from the last. I feel there is plenty of time for all that. But the month of January has been a trying one. There is no denying the stress and feeling like I had the weight of the world resting on my shoulders. In this month alone I lost my job, Liz had three surgeries, Samantha had to be rushed to the hospital, the kids started new schools, and I began seriously working out. But to listen to others, I need to get things together because God doesn’t expect this home to have bad days.

Look…my God is not some easy button. You don’t go through life, find yourself in a bind, and then just shout out, “there’s an app for that!” Yes, He is there for guiding, leading, saving, providing, mending, healing, strengthening, supporting, teaching, growing, stretching, punishing, but most of all, He is there for loving. My God, in my life, is not some sort of Geek Squad I call upon to fix some crisis. I am certainly hear to tell you that the God I have come to know is the sole-provider of the greatness in my life. I could sit here all night and vomit a whole bunch of negativity and how much I want to shake my finger at the Creator of the universe. But in doing that, I would have to scold Him for the undeserved answered prayers.

Liz is home tonight. In fact, she was home last night. Liz basically had the same procedure as before, but with a different doctor. The clot he went in to retrieve was removed and the swelling has gone down, but that is apparently not the answer. Liz still can’t move her foot properly. She is sadly becoming accustomed to chronic pain.

Allow me to be gut-checkingly real with you for a moment. Liz has been hurting for years. Some would cautiously debate the effects of diet and exercise and medicine on her body. But I have been there for just about every surgery, every procedure and every recovery room. If I could put up some street sign up that everyone would see prior to approaching Liz, it would read “Speak with an encouraging word or go home.” I cannot tell you how often I am the one  who is left trying to apply patchwork to Liz’s heart due to the shards of glass that are there resembling words. If you are a mother, please enjoy giving your kids a bath, dropping them off at school, picking them up from a friend’s house, fixing them a meal, and tucking them in nightly. Please don’t take for granted the ability to show love in action…you never know when those opportunities will be taken from you.

Lately, I have had the absolute honor of being on the receiving end of others’ generosity, support, encouragement, and love. Whether its a Facebook comment, an e-mail, a text, a phone call, a meal, kid-sitting, cleaning, money, gifts, errands or just a 3-second hug…yeah, my life has been a success due to the impact of others. God has literally used others to show me how great He truly is. There are some I vent to, cry to, complain to, and lean on. Others are there because they can do things I can’t. I have people in my life to keep me in check, but through and because of their love for me.

It is now the last day of the first month of this new year. Candice is on her stomach and doing her normal breathing/snoring that she does due to her vocal cords. Madison…Ms. Madi Cakes…sleeping like some sort of Precious Moments angel. Then there is Samantha up on the top bunk, clutching her doll, quietly sound asleep. And Hudson; “I’m here to watch over you, buddy. Go play in your little dream world, where you can run without a limp and where your arm can be used properly. And don’t forget to smile dude; the world needs that bright smile of your’s.” Logan, Logan, Logan…son, no father could be more proud. You stole my heart from day 1 and I will never ask for it back.

Liz is resting and trying to sleep through the pain. You know something, these days of stress and wonderment allow me to live each and every day fully. There’s never a dull moment. The empty tomb that Christ left behind is not just a great example of life, but of action; the “go and do.” And along this way, when I fall, I WILL be picked up. And when I pass others that have fallen, I have now seen the example of how to lift someone else up. 

The LORD your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17)

I’m A Spice In God’s Life

In the middle of the night, miles away, the hollow sound of a passing train can be heard. The soothing rain tap-dancing on the window pane is accompanied by the swirling winds. And the words of a whispered prayer are spoken to ease a restless mind…

Tonight, Liz is fast asleep; resting her traumatized body before another surgery. Logan is staying with friends for the night, again. And the quads are with my in-laws. (A HUGE thank you to all.) I keep sitting here looking at the laptop screen…not real sure whether to keep typing or to just break down. You see, I need a break. I love this time to myself. I love the forced peace and quiet. But by the same token, to go from being needed every second to having the time and availability to just sit…a little surprising at how difficult that transition is.

Have you ever needed help, but not sure where? I have a sense of being overwhelmed, but am trying to figure out where it is that I need to let go. I have slowed my schedule. I haven’t done as much of the “me stuff.” I want to change some of who I have become. But still struggle with the day-to-day fight of life.

Then again, I am not the one suffering. Tomorrow, Liz will have the same surgery she had a few weeks ago. The doctor is going back in to remove a large clot that has returned to her right leg. But even bigger than that, he will be going in behind her knee to remove a baker’s cyst. This cyst is literally preventing Liz from extending her knee and allowing her to flatten her foot. In fact, its so bad that she won’t be able to walk until it is either drained or removed. Liz will be spending another night in ICU. Depending on her recovery, she will be able to go home Saturday or Sunday. (Last time, the one-night stay turned from one night to five.) The surgery, once they actually begin, will be an hour and a half. The last time this same doctor told me that, it turned into 5 hours.

I am going to make a small list of my prayer requests tonight. I have already gone to my Heavenly Father with these burdens. I would like to make a plea to you that when you read through these, that God not answer a single one of them, unless HE is praised for the result, no matter the outcome. I really want what I see as positive answers, but, for me and my family, God truly knows best and I am going to let Him take the role of I Am and Sovereign Lord:

1.) God, be with Liz’s heart, the seat of her emotions. I ask for prayer over any anxiety, fear, nervousness, and uneasiness.      
2.) God, be with the doctors and nurses. Give them rest tonight and bless them with clear minds tomorrow. I pray for steady hands and the ability for a successful surgery.
3.) God, be ahead of Liz in her recovery. I ask for a quick, easy, and as pain free as possible recovery.
4.) God, please be with the nurses and techs that will be caring for Liz prior to and following this surgery. I ask that they have the caring hearts that Liz will need during this time. Bless them with patience, understanding, caring hearts, kindness, and sympathy.
5.) God, be with my children; Logan, Hudson, Madison, Candice, and Samantha. Please God, feel their hearts with life. Help them to smile and to embrace life with such an infectious display of joy.
6.) God, I dare not leave myself out tonight. Physically, I am weary. I am trying, God…I am desperately trying to follow your lead. I ask, Lord, that you drag me if need be, but don’t leave me. I cry out to you with a racing heart and wet eyes.

I don’t know. I am not sure. No answer is waiting to be spoken from my lips. All I am left with is hope. That hope is solidifed in love. And that love is built upon the heart of the One that created such love. Tomorrow may be an incredibly great day or it may be the worst day of my life or fall somewhere in between. I am not “claiming” any result. What I am doing is emptying myself. I am all for inspirational sports sound bites or great speeches in movies, but lately, have found the Bible to present plenty of battle cries for me. Here’s the latest one from Isaiah 43:2…

                              “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you and when you pass through the rivers they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.”

This week has been hard. I refuse to sit here on a Thursday night and pretend that I am good to go. Being the father of a five-year old that feels the need to act 10, hurts my heart. Being the father of 4 four-year olds, who still show signs of being behind, continues to have its challenges. Being the father of a son with cerebral palsy, thankfully, has its joy-filled moments. Being the father of a daughter with paralyzed vocal cords, lends itself to bonding moments. Being the husband of a critically ill wife, is trying. I am trying to be a better corner manager, bench coach, cheerleader, nurse, homemaker, cook, spiritual leader, taxi-driver, calendar keeper, and provider. To be unemployed…I plead guilty to giving in to the sense of shame and disgrace.

But folks, if my victory never comes on this earth, if I never get “normal” back, if my knees stay bloody, I am okay with that. When my buzzer sounds and my time has come to turn in my time card, I know that my feast awaits. My RSVP has been made and no one else can claim my spot before the throne. There will be pain and suffering in my life as a human being. But to kick off the dusty shoes and run through the streets of gold in paradise…my life has been worth the wait.

You wanna know how I am doing? I’m battling.

Wet Clay

From the dark depths of life come the begging pleas to a God forsaken. So many of us stroll through life whistling “Dixie” thinking that all of our day belongs to us. We don’t see ourselves, or others for that matter, the way God sees us. We assume He is sitting upon some awe-inspiring throne with a movie-critc like demeanor. And yet,…He is jealous for me. He yearns to be known. The butterflies in His stomach are present when we recognize His beauty, grace, and glory. So tonight, Heavenly Father here with me, hear my whispering battle cry, “I love you!”

Physically, emotionally, mentally…I am spent. I have laid it all on the court today. And being dangerously transparent right now, I need a good cry. My heart is racing as I sit here and think over the events of today. I felt I was expected to be strong for everyone else today and now, I am empty. This emptiness does not represent the status of my ability to find joy. I am fully aware of what could have been, but instead, what was. Often times, prayers are not prayed for something that is happening, but rather, for protection from what could be.

Today, Samantha was seriously injured. A picture frame slid off a pile of stuff I was attempting to throw away. The corner of that picture frame gashed her face right below her left eye. She immediately started crying and as I turned to look at her, all I could see was her face and shirt were immediately soaked in blood. (Now that I know she is ok and in the next room sleeping, I can’t help but sit here and lose it. This hurts. The look in her eyes of “Daddy, please make it stop” will haunt me for time to come.) I quickly scooped her up and put my finger over the gash to apply pressure, trying to reduce the blood loss. I carried her up the three flights of stairs and had Liz call 911. The paramedics arrived shortly there after to help me out. Samantha never lost consciousness and never went into shock. There was blood all over both of us. They had me pick her back up and carry her to the ambulance. She and I rode together to the hospital where they were eventually able to stitch her up. All of today, she may have cried a combined 30-seconds throughout the whole ordeal. I couldn’t tell if that was blood or ice coming out of her veins. In trying to keep her talking and not thinking about the pain, I asked her what she wanted for dinner and she said chicken, fries, and chocolate milk. And cherry ice cream for dessert. I couldn’t deliver on the cherry ice cream, so we settled for strawberry. Her eyes were still full of joy afterwards. And I am here to report that Miss Sam Bam is back to being herself tonight. Sam, daddy loves you.

And the battle continues…Liz is still in a whole lot of pain. In fact, today, when she arrived at Children’s Hospital to check on Samantha, Liz was considering passing out due to the overwhelming pain that she felt in her right leg. She eventually made it down to the doctor’s office at the hospital where she had her previous surgery. As of right now, Liz is scheduled for another surgery; next Thursday. Apparently, according to a CT scan they did of her leg, a new clot has formed in her upper leg (yes, where they had cleared out before) and they believe there is a cyst or some sort of mass in her calf. Simple facts: another surgery, same surgery as before on new clots, excruciating pain for another week, and another week of recovery afterwards.

Growing up, my dad always loved singing the song “What A Friend We Have In Jesus.” Now, dad knows he can’t sing to save his life, but what I failed to realize as an 8 year-old was that dad was making a joyful noise unto the Lord. And as I reflect on the title of that song, it is so true. The simplest of critics will argue that a real friend, especially one that has the ability to change things, would never allow this type of prolonged suffering. My counter? But He is the type of friend that stands beside us through it all, no matter the number of times drama hits and no matter the severity. In this room tonight, I can easily declare that I have a friend in Jesus (and it is often times reflected in the lives of those we have chosen to surround ourselves with (friends and family)).

I really need a job. I need for someone to hire me for a position that will allow me to succeed. I need to continue to provide for my family financially. But right now, during this chapter, my family needs me to be here…to be strong, aware, able, willing, and capable. And thankfully, I am inept in all of those areas. Attempting this alone would be disasterous. But humbling myself and showing such inadequacies, when success is had, God stands at the top of the podium alone. And please understand, the ”humbling of myself” is frequently the result of many attempts to go it alone, and failing miserably. Maybe one day, I will learn to turn a little faster to God instead of gunning the gas when the light turns green.

Today, I woke up feeling better than the way I felt when I went to sleep. I cleaned up around the apartment, had a great breakfast with the quads. Paid some bills. Got ready to attack this great day. The sun was shining on a cloudless morning. Then, the storm rolled in with no warning. But tonight, the Son still shines despite the dark night sky and the countless stars above. I am not foolish enough to end this without asking for continued prayers. Life gets to be very hard sometimes. I can find myself going through the god-motions. I get beaten down by, well…everything. I selfishly allow myself to grow weary. I gripe and complain and want to throw a tantrum fit for a 31 year-old. But then I realize that once I am done being selfish, the issues at hand are still waiting to be dealt with.

God, as I lay down tonight and then rise in the morning, may I be nothing more than wet clay; waiting and willing to be molded by your will for my life. Add water, add fire, spin me, and refine me. My life song will never be “This Little Light of Mine; may you be far greater. I want to be scared of the unknown future ahead. But God, I am begging to be scooped up by you and for you to stop the bleeding.

B Movie

Let me get this straight…by the age of 31, I will have been married for 7 years, have 5 kids (4 of which are quadruplets), lived on two different continents, be out of a job for the second time in a little over a year, understand and can use more medical terms than most medical dramas on television, have faced the reality of death with my wife three times, have been in two car wrecks, have lived at 23 different addresses in my life (if I counted correctly), have had times when I could almost audibly hear God and times when He seemed further than the closest star.

Listening to the words of “By Your Side” by Tenth Avenue North has really reached me where I am these days. I often times feel like the mist hovering above the ocean waves. I am a part of something great and powerful, yet, I do sometimes get caught up in the winds of self-doubt, anxiety, and fatigue. But then I turn my eyes back to my life’s focus and there’s God’s hand reaching down from Heaven as if to say, “…Donny, it’s me. You can trust that I have your best interest in mind.” And you know, that may scare me more than anything. What is it God is going to put me through? What is it that He thinks I can handle? What if I fail, again? Then again, I gotta admit, it feels pretty good to be anxiously excited about the possibility of fulfilling a purpose.

I can’t live your life and you can’t live mine.

Tonight, I’m not going to reflect on the past. I do that far too often anyways. I want to look forward to what is ahead of me. There are two major things that will change in this new year for me and my life. I am going to pray differently for Liz. My prayers to the living God have been far too sloppy and poorly approached. If I have the relationship with Jesus that I say I do, then I need to start praying like it. I fear Him as God, but need to show Him the love of a friend. Friends are there, reaching out and ready to do what it takes to provide for another’s need(s). So, I am turning Liz’s care over to the Great Physician. He knows of Liz’s ailments and knows how to cure them. My daily prayer will be that direct. What is the point of knocking if I am not going to be specific with my ask.

Also, I want to be around those that have an encouraging word for me. The world we all live in now is an absolute beating. At every turn, we hear that we need to look better, make more money, spend more time everywhere, and that we are not all equal. I have perfected the art of focusing on my flaws. No one will be a bigger critic of myself than…myself. Its time I surround myself with those that can reflect God’s approach with me…patience, grace, mercy and most of all, love. Other people’s words can make my day, help to get me going again, and inspire me. But, by the same token, words are often used to break me, stifle me, and to create a divide. So, this is a fresh start. Please allow me to encourage you, strengthen you, and build you up…I want to see others this year as Jesus Christ did, does, and will.

I already have  my physical scheduled. We’ll see what this new year has in store for me from a physical standpoint. I think I have self-diagnosed myself with having acid reflux. And maybe I need more education about it, but lately,  as I have reduced my intake of “junk food” and replaced it with more water and fruit and whole grains, the worse it has gotten. We’ll see what the tests show next month. I wonder if acid reflux can be made worse by stress. If so, explains a whole lot.

Life is overwhelming. But it does beat living an underwhelming life.

Clear Mind, Cluttered Heart

Whether it’s some sport or board game or a brain quiz, have you ever tried to do better than someone else, but always end up losing? You practice and study. On paper, you should easily be able to outplay and outwit the opponent, but when the buzzer sounds, you find yourself losing for the 16th straight time. I know how to achieve, succeed, and move forward and yet, I end up down for the 10-count.

Lately, I have had to check myself at the foot of the cross because of who I have made God to be. This last week, I have admittedly tried to guilt trip God into giving me what I want. I mean, shoot, what I want is really for the betterment others (or is it.) See, I pray for the burdens on my heart. I pray for the pain, suffering, heartache, and exhaustion to end. I am seeking joy, happiness, contentment, and fulfillment. I tell God what I want. And right after that, I am quick to add, “…but your will be done.” As if I will get my way because I was sure to throw that one-liner in there at the end of some selfish prayer. Where is the real recognition of who God is? I claim that He knows whats best for my life and the life of my family, yet, I use Him like some genie, here to grant me my wishes.

We are going on night four of Liz being in the hospital. At the onset, it was thought that she would spend one night. It appears that Liz has a long road ahead of her, based on what the physical therapy folks want her to do. She and I talked tonight about not setting a deadline when she needed to be home, but rather coming home when she is able. It may be through assistance that she is able to function here at home, but its beyond that at this point. Her blood levels continue to be low and there was thought at one time of doing a blood transfusion to get numbers up, but as of right now, they have decided against that. I will say this…I think Liz is a lot better than where she was a couple of nights ago, BUT, she is still in a lot of pain, especially when she has to walk, whether with a walker or crutches. She is no longer on IV meds. That is a big step with her moving forward and coming home.

I wouldn’t call it depression, but often times, I find myself battling that feeling of being overwhelmed. In my head, I begin listing every reason why my life feels so heavy. Ever looked at what is in front of you and basically frozen in place because you’re not even sure where to get started? I use that excuse far too often. (And that’s all it is; a bunch excuses and even lies.) I “know” how to get off that starting point, but need either a nudge or at least an arm around the shoulder to get started.

See, I know a lot. I understand that God maps the course and I am to head out with the compass in hand. But when I see others having fun on some other path or see someone else flying past me because their course appears to be straight, I try and follow them. I want easy and fun and different. But for what? So that I can possibly achieve someone else’s goals? Or so that I can become someone I was never meant to be? Liz continuing to battle medical issue after medical issue, the kids needing more and more attention, being let go at work twice within a year and a half, moving, and trying to be more of a servant…makes for great excuses when griping and complaining with my eyes pointed heavenly. But God’s gripes with me and my attitude would immediately silence mine.

I am not an overall optimist (would like to be), but I also would not consider myself to be a pessimist (although I do battle it at times.) I see myself as more of a…person. I have my ups and downs. I worry, doubt, and freak out. But I have days of conquer, hope, and some real passion. Despite my circumstances, tonight, I am smiling. Yeah, life is weighing a bit right now, but my heart is full, my smile is genuine, and my God is real. Its not quite a free-fall when you’re doing it tandem.

Love is bigger than me…

Skinny Dude In A Heavyweight Bout

Most people I know love mountaintop experiences. They love that exhilarating emotional high of feeling like they are on top of the world. Life feels better, smells sweeter, and appears clearer. There is a strong desire to want to camp at the summit. But why wouldn’t you want to come back down, with plans to get back there real soon, but with others that had never been there? Or for some, we live a life at the top, but don’t realize it because we’re walking in circles instead of being still.

Today was a rough day. Not real sure whether it was a valley low or just one of those slow days as I head back to my favorite peak. Liz is still in the hospital tonight. About half the time I talked to her today, she was crying. Her tears were out of agony due to the swelling and all the doctor had done during surgery.

I have never once questioned God’s call to be the father of quadruplets. I get to see His grace and mercy and most of all, His love, more than most people do. (Or at least, I choose to see it.) But this side of Heaven, I will never fully understand the point of such pain, discomfort, and displacement. The Bible talks about there being a lot of responsibility on the one that has been blessed…Well, I believe there is another side to that coin. Much is also required of the one who suffers greatly, of the one who gets slapped around by life for a while, of the one who is burdened. You see, its one thing for people to see how we act when we’re rollin’ on dubs, our house is on MTV Cribs, and there’s ice on our fingers. But what about the times when we’re getting sucker-punched at every turn. Are we gonna call upon that big, bad god of our’s? Do we give a quick thanks or go down on a bended knee in humility?

I have learned through the last few years not to challenge God. I would never call him out or throw up some lame attempt at scolding the Creator of the universe. But I do find myself wanting to be held. When I go down the list and consider where I find myself tonight; the weight of my world is heavy. My wife is in the hospital for the second night for the second time this year. I have a five year-old and four 4 year-olds. I am in a small apartment. I don’t have a paying job. I need to take care of an expensive parking ticket. Laundry needs to be folded and put away. A few more boxes need to be emptied. Pictures need to be put on the wall. Oil changed; tires rotated. See, most of these, by themselves are really no biggie and aren’t any different from anyone else’s life. But when piled into the same day or week, I just scrunch my toes and try not to fall off the edge.

Yes, I know…God has and will provide. (Of all people who has seen that first-hand…) Want to know what gets me every time? I picture God himself walking through the front door. (Wonder if He would knock or already knows He is welcome.) I imagine Him walking straight to me, not saying a single word, for He knows my every thought and emotion, and just holding me. Would I humble myself enough to cry into the shoulder of God? Can I let go of such a heavy life and let Him empty me; just to fill me back up again? It scares me to face such a caring God. He would look me straight in the heart…there would be a release of pure joy that is impossible to feel outside of His presence.

I am easily frustrated. I get upset over the stupidest things. I feel tired far too often, but I think I have figured out why. See, I am trying to do it all. I want to be Liz’s doctor and nurse, no matter the issue. I want to be the father that each child of mine needs. I want to bring home the big bucks and be that ultimate provider. I want to do have the energy to knock out all chores in one day. All of this, this self-imposed weight, is not what I am to be carrying. I have gone and replaced my cross with my life. Every few days, my mountaintop view is clouded by the rolling fog of self-doubt, selfishness, and control. When little kids get lost, they are told to stay still so someone can find them. Thank God He can find us no matter how far we wander.

Tonight, I am falling back on the verse Jeremiah 1:19 (I’ll let you look it up.)

God,…here I am.

The Many Faces of God

If you had the power to change something, would you? Would it be something about yourself or someone else? Would you redo your circumstances? Maybe you’d call for a mulligan on your job, house, car or looks. If given the chance to live someone else’s life, would you? Or just maybe, you’d let God work out His plan for you. I find myself wanting, begging and pleading for Him to make things better or at least different. But it’s as if I have lived with blinders most of my life and don’t get all that He wants me to see, experience, and understand about the cards I’m holding. I imagine myself playing a game of poker. I ante up each hand just to stay in the game. And even though I am playing with God’s chips, I am unwilling to go all in. He keeps telling me that my cards will play, but I want to hold on to “my” chip count.

Today started early. Liz and I left for the hospital at 4:13 in the morning. The drive was all too familiar. Off we go down the highway for another surgery. Isn’t it interesting that surgery is the process in which something is corrected or made better and yet, we focus on the potentially bad outcome.

This surgery took place at a hospital we had never been to for a surgery or procedure. Sadly, I didn’t know any of the nurses or doctors, so I got to go through my normal spiel about what Liz needed. And once again, they didn’t listen. But at least the doctor and anesthesiologist knew what they were doing. And I am thankful that the surgical nurse kept me informed of what was going on.

Here’s basically what took place today: Liz had two major blood clots in her right leg. These weren’t small little hard places that wer localized in one particular area of a vein. They were long and stretched out. In fact, there is one that starts just above her knee and goes down passed her knee and into her calve. This is double bad news because 1.) the technology that was recently introduced to us is not capable of going into that vein down pass the knee and 2.) there is total blockage of that vein. Liz will obviously continue her Coumadin treatment forever and hopefully that clot can eventually dissolve on its own and the medicine will prevent it from growing. But, for the good news, the bigger clot that was much further up her leg was cleared out, a filter was put in (to prevent any clot that forms or breaks away from traveling to her lungs or heart; to describe it , it looks like a birdie that you would use in badminton), and a stint was put in to widen her vein and allow the blood to flow more normally. The doctor showed me pictures of all of this. The surgery took much longer than expected due to repositioning and having to gauge a better approach due to her veins being so narrowed.

Look, Liz has been on a ton of medicine over the last 5-ish years. Much of that medicine has been painkillers. After seeing how narrow her veins are (and seeing the difference once the doctor place the stint) I am surprised Liz isn’t on crutches and in a one of those motorized Rascals. All that on top of raising 6 kids is craziness. (Yes, 6.)

After getting word that she was done and waiting far too long for the call that said  I could go back to see her, I waited for the doors to the ICU to open and just walked in. The lady at the desk ask me who I was and did I not see the sign. I told her that I did see the sign and that it didn’t apply to me because no one called me to let me know I could see my wife after surgery. I said I understand the rules and understand why the rules were in place, but that an exception needed to be made. Her answer was, “Fair enough.” (There was another family back there, but uh, things weren’t going well over there at all.) When I walked in, Liz was barely awake with an oxygen mask over her face and the bed was flat.) I immediately started searching the numbers on the monitor looking for what I wanted to see. Everything appeared to be stable and within the normal range. She let me know she was in a whole lot of pain. I talked to the nurse to find out what they were giving her; morphine. No sir, time to take some serious medicine to this pain. And 15 minutes later, after talking to the doctor, she had what she needed. (I grew to like the staff in the ICU.)

Liz was drifting in and out of sleep, there was no where to sit in the room, and knowing that she made it through surgery just fine, my body started getting tired quickly. I left and went to pick up all the kids. And thus, I am back home after what physically feels like a marathon of a day. But today became much more than my situation. Today, I witnessed a lot of pain. There were several families crying together. It was fairly hard to watch. Even got to know an older woman named Anita. She was there because her husband was having his spleen removed after having triple bi-pass last week. Just felt good to pray for others right there in the moment, having no idea of the situation.

I woke this morning, not knowing the outcome of today. Not that this morning was any different from any other morning, really. I am back for another night of being here with just the kids. Tomorrow, the sun will rise and the day will begin and if it doesn’t, I won’t care. My life wears me out. I live at the corner of tired and blessed.

Tonight, the quads were back in the girls’ room playing. I was on the couch watching a recorded episode of House; just trying to breathe from the day…Logan walks in with his “wolfie” and says, “Dad, can I sit with you?” I said, “Sure bud, did you need something or want to watch something on TV.” His response made this father soar…he said, “Nope, just wanna hang out with you. I missed you today.”    ……..yeah, through others, I got to see the many faces of God today.