Embracing Life as a Succulent

Life around here continues to be chapter after chapter in The Chronicles of the Sleep-Deprived. We’re actually on chapter 11, but who’s counting.

This state of affairs has me pondering succulent plants, at least for the few moments of the day when I am coherent enough to do such a thing as ponder.

North Shore succulent

North Shore succulent

Succulent plants are quite amazing. Their thick fleshy leaves retain water. They’re basically like a pregnant lady’s ankles. They can survive in very dry climates and make use of dew as a water source. They grow between a rock and hard place. They are unusually beautiful.

As there seems to be no quick fix to our sleep troubles, I’m praying for God to sustain us like succulents. Through bleariness, may we be storing up water in our leaves and apportioning it at just the right time. It can be challenging to be deep in the Word when my ability to focus lasts approximately 2.8 seconds. It’s challenging to read anything at all, which I dislike, because I love to read.

Trying to focus on reading is like trying to focus on the big E on the eye chart during a rock concert with the fog machines on full blast. I know it’s an E, but am I supposed to say “E”? No, wait, I think it’s about what direction it’s pointing. Is it left or right? Well, my left or the E’s left? Wait, if it’s pointing up, that’s North, right? What’s this book about again? And why am I still on page 3 after a month of reading?

At this point in our lives, it’s time to take the truth that’s been written on our hearts, planted and rooted over many years, and apply it. This may not be the time for learning and deep study. But, a short children’s memory verse is enough to uphold a weary heart. The Lord says to Jeremiah, “I am watching over my word to perform it.” And so He is. May His simple truths go deep into our fleshy limbs. May the water of the Word be stored up in every nook and cranny of our being, giving life even in the dry, sleepless seasons.


And for any of you praying for us, pray for Titus and his sleep and night time comfort. We love him so. He is a happy boy who delights us all the day, and, continues to want our close company all the night. This has worsened with his starting baby food as he seems to be uncomfortable. We very much appreciate all the prayers and care that we have received. They are a cool cup of water in Jesus’ name!

The Garden in the Grave

For a number of years I’ve wanted to start a vegetable garden, but circumstances prevented me: too pregnant, too tired, too clueless, and finally, no good place to put one.

This year we went for it. That’s not to say that I am no longer clueless or tired, but I have no excuse regarding pregnancy and we’ve got a good place for one and I’ve got a ten year old who’s got loads of initiative and zero fear. Which probably explains how we ended up with three vegetable gardens instead of one, so much for starting small. There’s the kids’ garden (actually Eliza’s garden according to the ethics of the little red hen), mom’s garden (that’d be mine), and The Big Garden (planted on a wing and a prayer in the rain, thanks to the help of a friend and their tiller).

As Eliza and I were showing our work to my mom, she commented that Eliza’s garden looked a bit like a grave. And she was right. Eliza had hauled rocks up from the creek on a sled to make a border for her garden. With nothing growing in it and only the plant markers visible, I hadn’t realized how strange it looked. Whenever I looked at it, I was thinking of all the seeds we’d put in the ground and what it would be like to see sprouts or actual food there. It disturbed me to think of it that way, yet, verse after verse bubbled up in my mind, reminding me that a grave is the only place where a garden can grow.


Eliza's Garden

Eliza’s Garden

And Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. If anyone serves me, he must follow me; and where I am, there will my servant be also. If anyone serves me, the Father will honor him.” (John 12:23-26 ESV)

It can be discouraging to look at the garden of your life and wonder where the fruit is. But perhaps instead of looking for the fruit, we should ask ourselves if we’ve done any dying lately. There’s no harvest without death. The very death that Jesus died on our behalf, enables us to die to sin as well. He suffered in his body so that we could turn from bitterness, envy, and strife. Then He takes the death of our bitterness and it falls into the ground and unleashes the sweetest fruit the world has ever tasted. Our envy is buried in the darkness and springs up a tender shoot of love in the light.

Bean Sprouts

Bean Sprouts

When fear and worry about the future have us stuck, unable to move, the death of Christ compels us. And through His death, we die to fear and are raised with roots of confidence that go down so deep in Him and His promises that they cannot be pulled up, blown over or scorched.

Do you know a fruitful person like this? Someone who has love, joy, peace, patience and all the rest in all the nooks and crannies of their life? Someone whose daily life is brimming with faithfulness? Does imitating it make you feel like a fake? Could it be because all that faithfulness and fruit is the result of their daily death to sin and isn’t something that can be replicated apart from death? You cannot be like them, just like you cannot be like Christ, without dying.

Fruitful people aren’t smarter or better or more organized or more free-spirited or prettier or plainer or keener about productivity than you. They’ve made a practice of dying. They love to obey their Father by following in the steps of their firstborn brother, Jesus.

But what do we do when the seeds are planted, yet the garden looks eerily like a grave? We look at it with the eyes of faith. The eyes of faith can peer through the soil and see the garden that will overtake the grave.

Garden growth

Garden Growth

Faith is planting a seed and covering it in blackness, with the hope that life will emerge. Faith does not demand fruit, it does not insist on fast gratification, it hopes and hangs on, so that when a sprout pushes through, faith tends and keeps in hope, that a tiny sprout could actually bring forth a giant pumpkin, that a weak simple-minded child could actually bring intense glory to God.

someday pumpkins

Someday Pumpkins

Of course there are weeds. In one sense, all of life is weeds, whether we’re fruitful or not, we can be assured of weeds, some of our own making, many not. When I first took inventory of the plot of The Big Garden, it was frightening: stinging nettles, thistles, creeping charlie, you name it. It was the curse on steroids. I came out of out of there with scrapes, thorns, bug bites and sweat many a time (not to mention the friend who helped us). Now there are shoots of sweet corn emerging.

The Lord takes the most ugly, painful places and transforms them into the kind of usefulness that will benefit ten or one hundred fold. He did it with His Son and by grace, His Son will do it through you, to the praise of His glory.



North Shore Memories

The North Shore, 2008

Eliza and Seth, Split Rock Lighthouse

Eliza and Seth, Split Rock Lighthouse

Gooseberry Falls, two babies climbing rocks

Gooseberry Falls, two babies climbing rocks

The North Shore, 2009

Overlook at Cascade Falls, family of 5

Overlook at Cascade Falls, family of 5

World's Best Donuts, put it on the bucket list

World’s Best Donuts, put it on the bucket list`

Gondola Ride up Lutsen Mountain

Gondola Ride up Lutsen Mountain

Elianna (2), Seth (3), Eliza (5)

Elianna (2), Seth (3), Eliza (5)

The North Shore, 2010

Dodds Fam of 6 (Evangeline's on Tom's back in the backpack)

Dodds Fam of 6 (Evangeline’s on Tom’s back in the backpack)

Cold feet! On the shore of Lake Superior

Cold feet! On the shore of Lake Superior

Classic Rock Pose

Classic Rock Pose

The North Shore, 2011

Dodds Fam of 6, Judge C.R. Magney Park

Dodds Fam of 6, Judge C.R. Magney Park

Another classic rock pose.

Another classic rock pose.

Ski lift up to the Alpine Slide

Ski lift up to the Alpine Slide

The North Shore, 2012

Campfire and S'mores

Campfire and S’mores

Cascade Creek

Cascade Creek, our 10th anniversary

And another classic rock pose

And another classic rock pose

Alpine Slide

Alpine Slide

In leu of going to the North Shore in 2013, we moved and had a baby. Works for me.

The North Shore, 2014

Artist's  Point, photobomb

Point, photobomb

Titus, first time up north

Titus, first time up north

Classic Rock Pose, again

Classic Rock Pose, again

And again.

And again.

Yet again.

Yet again.

Really classic rock pose.

Really classic rock pose.

Until we meet again, North Shore! 2015 or bust.

Dodds Fam of 7, Temperance River

Dodds Fam of 7, Temperance River




What Does a Sad Ending Mean?

Trials are kind of like being jerked out of a sunny day and being thrown down into a well. It seems that all there is down there is dirt, no light, close air and claustrophobia. It can seem more like a pit than a well. But I’m reminding myself that God only ever puts his children in places where water will eventually flow. It may be a desert or a dark night, but he never leaves us alone.

How do we weather these times? How does a family who’s lost a dad, or a parent who’s buried a baby, or a woman who’s been betrayed, or couple longing for a child, weather the pain, the loss, and the fear?

I’ve asked myself that quite a bit as we’ve watched others walk these roads and tasted our own grief over an abnormal baby brain and an unknown future.

The other day the kids and I were heading home in the van and Eliza was finishing up a book in the back seat. Seth was reading the last chapter along with her, not having read the rest of the book. He commented to her, “It looks like it’s going to be a happy ending.” She responded, “Oh, I don’t like happy endings. That means the book is over.” Then she gave this insight, “But when things are scary or sad at the end, you know there will be another chapter or book coming.”

I can’t tell you the relief I felt as I remembered that a tragic ending means one thing: there’s another chapter coming. No matter how pit-like the well we’ve been tossed into, we’ll be at the King’s right hand someday, just like Joseph went from thrown in a hole, sold down the road, and ended up as Pharaoh’s right hand man, we too, have a future that’s beyond any we could dream up from the bottom of a well.

I’m also realizing that the wells of suffering are a place where we get to drink more deeply of his grace than we ever have before, a place where our thirst for him is drowned in knowing him more deeply. This doesn’t mean that we want the suffering, but rather that what gets us through is his presence. When suffering comes our way, we can recognize that there’s more going on here than just the universe dealing us a bad hand. God has a story He’s writing and we’re meant to be transformed in the telling.

This passage has always been a favorite, more so now.

“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die—but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. ” (Romans 5:1-8 ESV)

Jesus’ sorrows were deeper than any other human being. He bore our sin. He is the picture of perfect suffering, which is such a comfort because he wasn’t giddy about it and we’re not meant to be either. Rejoicing in our suffering isn’t gleeful, trite, happy-go-lucky suffering. It’s a kind of suffering that has hope and the way it gets to that hope is first by enduring, or getting through it. Jesus endured the cross. He got through it. From endurance comes character, then hope. And hope is able to rejoice. Why? Because it’s had love poured right into its heart because of Christ’s grace toward us on the grounds of His death for us.

Also, this rejoicing can’t and doesn’t undo the pain. Jesus didn’t suffer any less, because of the hope He had. He still suffered every bit of the suffering God ordained for him and it still was the full dose of God’s wrath. His pain wasn’t mitigated by His foreknowledge. This is such an important thing to keep in mind when either you or someone you know is walking a hard path. Knowing Jesus gives us hope, but it doesn’t take away the pain. It isn’t meant to. The pain is actually God-ordained to produce things in us that would not be able to be produced any other way. Knowing Jesus is meant to give us reasons to rejoice alongside the pain. They walk hand-in-hand, one doesn’t cancel the other out.

We’ve had some good weeks at our house. It feels like an upswing. I suppose that’s why I want to write about suffering and pain, because writing about it in the worst of it is pretty difficult. But, I’m hoping that by getting my thoughts down now, they’ll be here for me when I can’t see my way through the trials as clearly. And I hope they’ll be a help to anyone reading too, by God’s grace.

He split rocks in the wilderness and gave them drink abundantly as from the deep. He made streams come out of the rock and caused waters to flow down like rivers. (Psalm 78:15-16 ESV)

He split rocks in the wilderness and gave them drink abundantly as from the deep. He made streams come out of the rock and caused waters to flow down like rivers. (Psalm 78:15-16 ESV)

Four Years Old: Evangeline Joy

It’s our 4th child’s 4th birthday! What a great day! Boy do we love our Evangeline Joy.


I’m looking forward to watching her fourth year unfold and to discovering more of who God’s made her to be. But now’s the time for looking back. Here’s your top ten, sweet girl:

1) You sure love dresses and tights. This is baffling as I’m sure there is nothing more uncomfortable than little girl tights. But, you love them and want to wear them everyday. I’m thankful for your femininity.

bunny in the car

bunny in the car

2) This winter and even now in the spring you are more of an indoors girl. Even on some pretty gorgeous days you’ve opted to stay in and look at books or help mom clean or cook. I think you like the one on one time when the other kids are outside. I like it too.

3) It has been a riot to hear you tell stories this year. They are often complex plots with multiple indecipherable sub-plots. Saturday morning you let me know that the mole on your leg is a button that, when pushed, will turn you into a lizard. This will only take effect after you turn four. Oh dear.


Little Bo Vanga

4) I’m thankful you think “doing school” is a sort of privilege. You pull out your coloring book and take it very seriously–well, some days at least.

5) You are a singing kid. See video below. Pretty much the highlight of my life is listening to kids sing. Especially our kids. Can’t you just imagine it in heaven someday?! That’s got to be on the top ten list of the best things about heaven: children singing praises.

6) I’m so glad you became a big sister this past year. You love your baby brother and really embrace the big sister gig.


7) You have discovered the absolute fun and delight of restaurants. You ask if we can eat at a restaurant a lot. I share your love of eating out. We’re trying to keep it to a minimum, so as not to spoil you (and me). But, man, aren’t they just the best?!

8) I’m so thankful for your love of baby dolls and your imagination that lets you happily play in an imaginative world for hours. You have a tender sensibility as well, which means you are more easily frightened, as your imagination can run away with you.

9) You have an incredibly expressive face. Words are almost unnecessary for you, your face just says it all– the happy, the sad and every possible emotion out there. I think this is a blessing overall, and I’m glad to know what your feeling. This also has its challenges.


10) It’s been quite a year of transitions for you. From saying goodbye to our old house, to adjusting to a new home, to having your own room, to welcoming a baby brother and all that’s come with his life, it’s been a lot for a three year old to understand. I’m so thankful the Lord is taking care of you, He loves you, and He’s helping your dad and me to help you walk through it and see life from your vantage point.

If I could ask one thing of the Lord in regard to you, Evangeline, it would be that you learn this simple thing: trust Jesus. Count on Jesus. Remember that He is unchanging and trustworthy. No one and nothing else is, but our God is. I’m praying that your dad and I show you a picture of his trustworthiness and love, I hope we can give you a shadow. I hope you see Him in us and glimpse His steady love. But we will fail you, and when we do, my prayer is that you’ll drink right from the Source itself, that the Holy Spirit will meet your need in ways that your dad and I never will. We love you right from our toes on up and it’s just a drop in bucket compared to the oceans of love God has for you. Trust Him, baby girl. I’m not saying it will be easy, but it will be worth it.


Signs of Life

Around here I’m looking for signs of growth both outside and under our roof as I watch our son and try to get a read on him. In some ways I know everything about him, in other ways I’m so in the dark!

My privilege is to love him, care for him, help him, push him forward, and with that the difficulty of the necessary evaluating and wondering. How often do we say things about our babies’ future like, “Just wait till he’s crawling!” or “He’s going to be a handful when he’s older!” or “In a couple years she’ll be talking your ears off!” We can say things like that and it’s completely appropriate. Being experts on our kids is part of the gig, which is part of what’s hard to bear about this. It’s not knowing if he’ll be here in ten years, or what he’ll be like if he is here in ten years. It’s not being able to answer the questions about him, because I just don’t know, and as his mom, I want to know. I’m learning a whole new kind of parenting, the kind that doesn’t assume anything about the future and yet is fully invested in its possibilities. I’ve got a long way to go.

Day by day and sometimes hour by hour I’m asking God to help me know the hope to which He has called me. I want to be so full of that hope, the hope that I have because of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead. Maybe you will ask God to make this hope known to you as well. There are so many people who are deep in grief and suffering. Or deep in sin. The only balm for grief is the resurrection balm and the only cure for sin is the resurrection cure. Here’s Paul’s prayer:

“that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you the Spirit of wisdom and of revelation in the knowledge of him, having the eyes of your hearts enlightened, that you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power toward us who believe, according to the working of his great might that he worked in Christ when he raised him from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly places, far above all rule and authority and power and dominion, and above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come. And he put all things under his feet and gave him as head over all things to the church, which is his body, the fullness of him who fills all in all.” (Ephesians 1:17-23 ESV)

May our hope be in the immeasurable greatness of his power and his great might that raised Jesus from the dead and can forgive our sins and make us alive, forever. Sunday’s on its way.

Running water

Running water





The Hostas Underneath the Snow

Spring matters more than ever at our house, because the resurrection matters more than ever.

Lewis calls spring the “waiting room of the world,” a “nothing time.” I have felt begrudgingly similar toward my least favorite season. I’d take the known cold of winter over being jerked around by the seemingly false promises of spring. I love warmth and buds, but every year I find myself in a malaise of disappointment, wondering if it will actually come round.

Yet, spring is reminding me that God does keep his promises. Even when it’s April and a snowstorm. Or, May and a snowstorm. Even when it seems like death wins. I must not mistake the hints of God’s goodness and promise-keeping that are all around in the thaw/freeze/thaw/freeze cycle of spring, for the taunts of the enemy, who’s hoping I don’t notice the hostas underneath the snow.

Think of Jesus and the thaw/freeze cycle of his final week. Triumphal entry=thaw. Cleansing the temple=freeze. Lament over Jerusalem=freeze. Teaching and explaining parables=thaw. Plotting of Pharisees=freeze. Last supper=thaw. Gethsemane=freeze. Questioned by Pilate/Herod=freeze. Release offered by Pilate=thaw. Crucifixion=freeze. Resurrection=thaw. Humanly this is difficult to grasp in the moment, but this is all one massive thaw, just like spring. It seems back and forth, but it’s really the trajectory of resurrection, and the freezing is necessary for the ultimate thaw.

Winter is the setting and the stage for redemption. It is the stark backdrop to the glories that are coming.  And for those who have gone deep into that winter, those for whom winter has been the bleakest and coldest, who have refused to take the road of bitterness and have thrown themselves on the grace of God, perhaps the glories will be all the brighter.

We bid farewell to winter as the big melt was underway on Saturday. Tom took the kids for the last sledding trip down the hill.

four kids, a dad and a sled.

four kids, a dad and a sled.

Whoops, falling off.

Whoops, falling off.

All set!

All set!

And they're off!

And they’re off!


Goodbye winter.

Goodbye winter.


An Update, FAQ, and Prayer Requests

The months keep on and Titus has been in our arms for a full 7 plus ten days.

It’s hard to find words for how grateful we are to have him.  It’s frustrating for me because I love words, shadows of the Word, and it seems lazy to just shrug off finding the right ones. But, I’m often going blank on words these days and thankfully the Spirit knows just what to do in times like these. I also think that’s why people turn to poetry. Poetry allows us to speak more potently about our pain or joy. It’s like prose on steroids.

I get asked a lot about Titus, so I thought I’d try and answer the more frequent questions a little more fully here. But please feel free to keep asking in person! It blesses me. I’ve hesitated to write in detail about all of this publicly. I think it’s just another level of acknowledgment that I’ve been slow to take. But, here goes. First a pic!

pic by Elianna. One of the few with Titus and me.

pic by Elianna. One of the few with Titus and me.

1) “How’s Titus doing?”

I think I could answer this three ways and all are true but incomplete. First, he’s well. He had pneumonia a while back, but he’s been in good health for at least a month now. Also he’s growing and beautiful. And he’s progressing in the right direction. He can roll over, he can sit with support in a reclining high chair, he can grab toys and he has 4 teeth. The second way to answer this would be to say, I don’t really know how he’s doing. We still don’t have a diagnosis and I still don’t know what to expect from him. Thirdly, I could say, he’s delayed. He’s not where a 7 m old would normally be. He tested at or below the 1st percentile for most of his developmental testing. Usually I just say, “He’s doing well. He’s progressing and he’s healthy,” because it’s true and there isn’t time for the rest.

2) “What does Titus have again?”

I think people ask this because they know that there’s something potentially serious going on with him, and they assume they forgot what it is. But really, we just don’t know and have never known what his diagnosis is. There is a serious and fatal condition that we are trying to discover if he has. It is called Pontocerebellar Hypoplasia (PCH). It is a degenerative brain condition that affects the pons (part of the brain stem) and the cerebellum. We know via MRI that Titus has a hypoplastic (small) pons. They also were concerned that his cerebellum could be thinning, but didn’t see enough to say whether it is or isn’t.

It will likely be a year or two before we can rule out PCH, which would be ruled out by his good health and continued development. Yes, this is a long haul. I asked the dr. what his diagnosis would be if he doesn’t have PCH and the answer was that he wouldn’t have a specific diagnosis, just descriptive words to show the findings like, congenital hypotonia (low muscle tone) and hypoplastic pons and delayed myelination patterns (the wiring of the brain is delayed) and congenital esotropia (crossed eyes, which have now been helped quite a bit by surgery).

It’s hard to tell people that we don’t know and won’t know for a long time. No one can live in crisis mode for that long. So, I try to set aside the crisis and live day by day. But it is always there and it does creep up in varying degrees. It’s hard to ask people to walk this long road with us. It feels like a huge imposition, a black hole of neediness, but God knows and he is sufficient for this.

3) “So what are the next steps?”

When Titus is a year and three months (one year after his first MRI which he had at three months), he will have a repeat MRI to see what’s happening in his brain and compare it to the first one. The hope is that nothing is shrinking or thinning. MY hope is more than that, that his pons will have actually grown. Also, he’s in weekly therapy to help strengthen his muscles and maximize his progression. He sees his doctors regularly to monitor his progress and eyes.

We are also waiting on genetic testing, which is complicated and may not happen. It has to be pre approved by our insurance and has been rejected twice based on the scope of the tests. Our doctor is trying again, submitting one test at a time. We will see. I am in no rush here as the only news we could get from the tests is bad news. They are not able to rule out PCH with the tests.

4) “He’s progressing in the right direction, so that’s good, right?”

Yes! It is. But it also doesn’t tell us a whole lot in regard to whether he has PCH or not. Our doctor said that if Titus has PCH he would expect him to progress for while, no one could say for how long, then at some point in early childhood he would plateau and decline. Obviously, I don’t even like thinking about that and mainly just want to be happy for heading in the right direction. But, he does ask me to keep an eye out for him to plateau. I hate that.

5) “How are you doing?”

This is a question for me, not Titus, but I’ll address it anyway. It is a kind question, yet hard to answer in under an hour, and even if given an hour, I probably will not make much sense because the question is so broad I can’t figure out how to key in on anything significant. I just start to feel a bunch of stuff and can’t put words to it. I think people want to know that we’re OK. And we are. The Lord is taking care of us, which is usually what I try to say. I don’t mind answering it with a kind of “stock” answer, because it’s true, and it’s much easier than trying to form coherent sentences from the mass of emotions just under the surface. But if you want to know more than the stock answer, asking something pointed, like, “How are feeling about the genetic testing being rejected?” Or, “What’s it like to care for Titus?” Or, “Are you anxious about…” Or, “How has the Lord ministered to you regarding…” Questions like that give me a starting place, something specific to work from.

Also, it’s hard to know whether someone wants the (completely true) stock answer or a longer, deeper one that reveals more pain. So, there have been times when I’ve started in on something longer, only to realize I was talking to someone who was 5 min late for something. And the reverse has been true as well, where I’ve quickly given my stock answer only to stand around and realize they were hoping for more. This is just real life and no one’s fault and we’ll all have to bear with each other in these moments with the grace God supplies. Also, no one should feel guilty for only have time for the short version. There is something very glorious about being able to say, “The Lord is taking care of us,” and nothing else. We haven’t earned it, He’s really just carrying us and it’s good to say that to people.

Hopefully giving this update will help give direction to any of you who are praying for Titus and us. But here’s a list anyway.

1) Pray for Titus to continue to grow and develop and for his brain to grow!

2) Pray for us to be quick studies in helping him in therapy and loving him in every way we can.

3) Pray for our family to lean in to Jesus and His Word and His body during this time. There is a temptation to withdraw that I want to resist and I need God’s help to do it.

4) Pray for our other children to know God through this.

5) Pray that we would befriend faithfulness in our parenting and that physical and emotional fatigue would not lead to selfishness but be overcome by love through Jesus.

6) Pray that our anchor in Jesus would hold in the uncertainty and that it would hold if we face the worst and that it would hold if we face long-term disability.

7) Pray for sleep. We aren’t getting a lot.

So, that’s a lot to pray for and I don’t expect most people to work through the whole list, but maybe one will resonate with you and the Lord will lead you to pray for that. I’ll leave you with our sweet boy, with pillars of sibling love on either side. His life is blessed.

sibling pillars

sibling pillars

Dedicated to God

On Sunday, February 23rd, we dedicated Titus to God, in front of, and with, the body of Christ gathered at Bethlehem Baptist Church.

These are the words of dedication spoken by our pastor over Titus:


“Titus James, together with your parents who love you dearly,


and this people who care about the outcome of your faith,


I now dedicate you to God,


surrendering together with them all worldly claim upon your life,


in the hope that you will belong wholly to Jesus Christ, forever.”

Prayer of blessing

Prayer of blessing

This was a precious time for us, mainly because of the presence of the body of believers gathered together to witness our resolve and to commit with us to care for Titus. At times like these, I’m reminded how much we need each other to walk through this life’s pain and joy. I’m also reminded to invest in the lives of those around me, to remember my commitment to care about the outcomes of their faith.

I’m grateful for the people of God who love our boy and care about his eternal soul.

I wrote a poem to commemorate the dedication, with one of the meanings of Titus’s name in mind, which is “saved.” It also means, “pleasing,” which couldn’t fit him more.


Boldly asking, “One more son.”
Lord, if you would see it done.”
Waiting, longing, letting go,
Wondering, is the answer no?

Quietly watching, will good news hold?
Will this speck of life join our fold?
Happy, humbled, brimming joy,
And could it be? Yes. It’s a boy.

Fears emerging, questions form,
Could sorrow touch our hearts, now warm
With love, and clutching onto hope,
Which is our breath, our nerve, our rope.

Simply trusting, unknown paths,
With rough terrain and jagged halves
Of stones that seek our stumbling.
Yet, see Him there: our Life, our King.

Fully yielding, our son is Yours,
Even if You make the rain to pour
And only valleys be in sight,
Still we hold, “In Him is light.”

Now requesting, may Titus’ life
Be vibrant, Spirited, lacking strife.
May Jesus stoop and thus engrave
Titus’ name on palms and utter, “Saved.”

Because What’s a Poem Between Friends?

“Look Up”

O Soul, Sorrowed Soul,
Look up to Him that treads the way,
Look up to Him who will not stay
Far off, but in the night will pay
The debt you owe and use your pain. Pray,
And He will once again make day
To glow on horizon’s bend and
Grant the peace the serves to mend,
To calm, contend and keep at bay
The fears that foment. Yet they will lay
Down and bow to Him who thunders, “Still.”
And wills the miracle: trust, obey,
With surety, glad-faced, without dismay.

O Soul, Weary Soul,
Look up to Him who knows your frame,
Look up to Him who makes His name
To be a balm for wrung-out shame-
Filled mothers, wondering if His claim
On them will hold at story’s end, again reclaimed!
We’ve heard it said, “He isn’t tame.”
And we believe, the evidence showing in our lame
And injured gait that was His aim.
His plot line, our fate, to suffer maim
And bear the heat, the fire, the flame.
So, dross distilled, with clearer voices to proclaim:
Alleluia to the God who came, who reigns.