Steph Loughman's Blog, page 2

The Empty Room

We live in a house that is over 100 years old. It has much character of it's own and I'm sure that it has countless stories of the people who have lived here since it has been built. But my family has owned this house for a little over 14 years now. When we moved in my husband and I had eight children. Two of our children didn't live here but always had a place in our hearts just the same. The other six children were very young when we first unlocked the door of our new home. The youngest was only six months old and the oldest was eight. The carpet was an ugly green shag and the deck had nails popping out but it was our house and we loved it. Many things have changed in these last fourteen years (probably the first of which being that ugly green carpet!), but the most recent change really has my heart sad.

When I became a mom I gave up everything in my life so I could raise my babies. I was so happy to do this. My kids were my world and I wanted them with me every second. Sure they drove me insane like kids do, but  I could not get enough of them. I adored them to the point of just thinking of them making my heart burn with love and I still do. But throughout the years nature became my enemy. As the saying goes, I blinked and my children grew up. All but one of my precious "babies" are now adults. They are wonderful, responsible, loving amazing people and I am so very proud of who they have become. I am crazy excited for what the future holds for them and I absolutely love them more than I could ever express. But I am also sad.

Today I am spending time cleaning out one of the two empty bedrooms. I am going to make it my office and plan on spending a lot of time in there writing. I will make it a nice "escape room" for when I am overwhelmed with life and use it often hopefully. But as I am cleaning this room out, today is also like a goodbye to a life I so dearly loved. As I sweep the floor I remember sweeping under a bed, or being frustrated that clothes and toys were once everywhere. I think of how many times I told my teenagers to get the water bottles or fountain pop cups out of there. I remember every place a bed has been in that room and look around at how empty it is now.

I recall when my son's girlfriend broke up with him and how he stayed in bed crying for what seemed like an eternity while I sat outside the door wishing there was something that I could do to take his pain away. Then I pictured my daughter being upset because her boyfriend was being a jerk. I am saddened when I recall sending my precious little ones to this very room to sit and think of how they had been bad. I recall how this was the "coveted room" at one point because since it was the smallest, it usually meant that if it was their room, they were in it alone and no longer sharing a bedroom with a sibling.

This one tiny space in this world holds so many memories, and most of them were taken for granted. We don't think about these things as we are raising our children. It is only when they are gone that the proverbial "light bulb" comes on in our minds. I am so very proud of my babies and am excited for this chapter in their lives. I still have one child at home and I'm sure I will blink again and her last four years as a child will be over and she will "fly out of the nest as well" and I will be excited for her new adventures just as I am for her siblings now. But a part of me is sad. It is almost like a funeral for me today. As I look around this empty room and consider all the life that has filled this room I can't help but be sad because it is gone. Life from this point on will never be the same. All I have left are memories and visits. I will cherish them and hold them so close to my heart until the day that I die.

I will enjoy my new office, but the memories will always be there. I will always think of my children when I am in that room and just how much I adore them and beg God to help them to know how precious and loved they are. I praise God for allowing me to be mommy to these precious eight souls. I will love them and be happy for them always, but there will always be a part of me wishing they were still little and needing me like they did then.

My "nest" is almost empty, but my heart is so full. Funny how we can be so sad and happy at the same time. Time marches on and we have just marched right into a new phase of life. I wasn't really ready for it, but it's here just the same.

                                                                                              
When the youngest decided her friends names should be on the door. 
                                                                                              
                                                                                               
            The light switch cover they made in VBS one year. 

No Time for Dreams

I am like any other person. I have dreams that I'd love to spend all of my time chasing, and I have a job and responsibilities that keep me from doing such. I get sad and think, "I wish I had more time". I get tired we I get home from work and sit on the couch zoning out on my phone when I could be chasing my dream. Like everyone, we have things to do and responsibilities to take care of that have to come before dreams. There is nothing wrong with that, it's called being an adult. But it can be frustrating. It can be plain ole' depressing! Even in the midst of discouragement, I have to remind myself to just keep moving. That is the point of this post. JUST KEEP GOING!

I do think that we (our American society) have allowed ourselves to become drained with busyness. We keep ourselves so occupied that we don't have time for anything anymore, not ourselves and not for others. This needs to change. We have to find some ways to de-stress and (I think even more of the issue) re-prioritize. It honestly feels like we are in a dream and just spinning wheels to get through life. I'm pretty sure that it was never intended to be this way. We (and I am speaking to myself just as much as anyone else who listens) need to stop treading water and start living life. Get our eyes off the phones and out of social media and get back to just plain social.

Now, understand that I realize that things in our digital age can be good. As I type this blog post, I have tabs open with my email and Facebook and am messaging a friend. That's good. All I am saying is that we (and when I say we I most definitely mean ME) need to prioritize and not let ourselves get completely wrapped up in everything to the point of not living any other part of life.

For the things that keep me from my dreams outside of electronics, I have many excuses. Most are even valid excuses. I'm exhausted from life. I have physical, mental and emotional things that keep me from doing the things that I love. So the question become how bad do I want this? It is time for me to pull out my stubbornness and keep pushing. It may be ten years before anyone notices my writing or it could be today. Maybe it will be this post that finally gets me noticed as an author. Maybe it will be a while longer. I don't know. But I will never know if I don't keep trying.

I let myself get discouraged way too often. I'm sharing this with you because maybe you do too. We can't focus on the bad. We have to just keep going. We make time for what we really want to do. It's time for my dream to be more important than staring at my phone. It's time for me to write even if I have a headache and have no clue what to write about. It's time for me to stop listening to that annoying little voice in my head that tells me that I will never be good enough. Is it time for you to do these things as well? Let's talk! Comment on this blog post and let's start a conversation. Let's start lifting each other up and encouraging one another.

Post-Abortion Trauma; Real or Myth?

I can answer this question very quickly; YES IT'S VERY REAL!

 Am I a scientist who has done years of research and has spent a ton of money gaining a lot of different degrees? Nope. Then how can I be so sure that post-abortion trauma is real? Who am I to stand up and speak about such a thing if I don't have those credentials some might ask. Well let me tell you how I am and maybe it will shock you if I said that I have more of a right to speak this truth.

How do I know that post-abortion Trauma is real? Because I have suffered from it for 21 years.

I woke up one morning at 17 weeks pregnant and decided that I needed to have an abortion. I made a few quick phone calls and BOOM, it was done. My child was dead, I was no longer pregnant and I thought that my "problem" was over. I have never been more wrong in my life.

I was able to stuff down what I had done for a few months. I refused to think about it and I moved on with my life. But then one day it hit me like a building had collapsed on me. I could no longer hide behind "my choice" but was faced with reality. Guilt. Shame. Regret. Sadness. Anxiety. So much more that I could not bear.

Now, I should probably stop and explain that I did not have a good childhood. I suffered many things growing up and I learned very early on how to hide my feelings and push things down. I was very good at it. I didn't even let people see me cry.. EVER!  I say this so you understand, I am no "softie". I do not let things get to me. But this monster known as a past abortion was more than I could handle. When I started putting all of my feelings together I realized that it had seeped into every part of my being and was coming out in ways that I didn't even know.

Praise God, I found healing through an amazing group that helped me work through my guilt and shame. I will focus more on that story in another post, but I want you to know that post-abortion trauma is without a doubt real.

Why do people work so hard to try to say that it is a myth? If it is so real then why is it such a big deal to the other side? That is simple. If people admit that post-abortion trauma is real then they have to start admitting that there might be something wrong with this big money-maker. They have to say that it's imagination because if they admit that it's real then it's more than just a "choice" and more than a blob of tissue.

I have suffered from post-abortion trauma and can tell you that it is hell. I have helped many others overcome by the grace of God and have not only experienced it but seen it in countless others. It is time that we take a stand and let the world know that this is a real thing and help those suffering from it to overcome. Our voice is what will help them step out of their shame. It's time to stand!

When I Believed it was My Body, My Choice

In my younger days, I (like most people) thought that I had it all figured out. I understood the ways of the world and came to my own conclusions on matters. One matter that I thought that I understood was the debate on abortion that said it was my body, therefore my choice. I always stood for women's rights and said that I would never have one myself but was certain that abortion was ok if a woman wished to do so.

I remember my brother and I would pass by a church that always had a bunch of small, white wooden crosses in their front yard and a sign stating that these crosses were for the innocent lives lost to abortion. We would roll our eyes and talk about how mad it made us that these people would try and make people feel bad for a choice that they needed to do. We were certain that this church, along with anyone else who spoke against abortion were just judgmental old people who just needed to "get over themselves".

I was very set in my mind that abortion was ok. I always knew that I couldn't do it myself, but wanted all other women to be able to make that choice for themselves. It only took the events of one day to change my mind.

October 9, 1997. The day that changed my entire life forever.

On this dreadful day, I walked into St. Ann's hospital in Columbus, Ohio pregnant. I walked out hours later  having made the "choice" to do to "my body" whatever I wished. I allowed a doctor to "remove my pregnancy" or in more realistic words, take my child out of my womb where he could no longer have a chance at life. I was seventeen weeks pregnant. My son, Joshua was gone forever.

The events of this day taught me that it was not simply "my body". I learned the hard way that abortion is about so much more than a simple choice. I did not have a child to bring home with me, instead I carried guilt and shame. Before his death, I felt my child move around inside my body, now everything in me felt as dead as he was. Hopeless. Shameful. Surrounded by a cloud of sadness.

It is common knowledge that a person can't fully understand something unless they have gone through it themselves. With that said, please heed my words and let me tell you that abortion is not a simple choice. For those pushing it, it is a money maker. They don't see care for these precious women, they see money signs.

I have done some research on the actual procedure that was done on me. That October day, I did not simply have the doctor perform a procedure on me. He did not take out an appendage or do anything for the benefit of my health. He literally killed my child and removed him from my womb. Think on that for a minute and really let that sink in. I will not describe the exact procedure at this time because there might not be some who can handle it; it is very gruesome. I may at another time with some warnings before reading it. Trust me, I wish I didn't know the horror that my son experienced from the perceived "safety" of my womb.

While I won't describe the actual acts, I think that it is important for everyone to really think about what abortion really is. Don't believe the lies of "it's just a choice" but think on what actually happens. I didn't understand it until I went through it. My son had to die for me to understand. It is time that we stand for the innocent and break through the lies that are being preached.

Abortion is not about my body at all. It is not about my health. It is about death. Abortion should not be an option, as it is not an answer.

Overcoming

What has a hold on you? Fear? Drugs? Alcohol? Regret? Shame? Do you feel like sometimes you can't even breathe because it has such a hold on you? Like this is something that you will just struggle with for the rest of you life no matter what you do? Let me tell you what I have been through in the last few days.

Before I can tell you about what I have done recently, I need to give you a little background. I have had allowed many things to control me in my lifetime. Fear, regret, shame, stubbornness, almost anything that you can think of, I've done it all. But there is one thing that I have always said that I would NEVER do. That is to fly in an airplane.

My fear of flying wasn't just some "Oh yeah, I don't like to fly" type of thing. I would go anywhere near an airport and have panic attacks. I would look up in the sky and see an airplane and my stomach would automatically tense up. I literally felt physically sick just from the thought of an airplane. I would call that unhealthy, wouldn't you agree?

My entire life I have faced danger and a lot of times with a smile. (I may not have felt the smile but by golly I'd make you believe I was ok because I was tough... in my mind). I am terribly afraid of snakes and went to the zoo determined to touch one just to show my fear that it would not control me. I've had a gun to my head. Been threatened with knifes. I should have been dead a long time ago. Praise God He saw fit to keep me alive despite my own stupidity!

Even with the personality to stand up to my fears, I always said that flying was the one thing that I would never do. I love to travel but would drive or take a boat wherever I needed to go and I was just fine with that. My fear of flying had a grip on me that I was completely comfortable with allowing it to continue. I didn't even have a desire to fly.

Then one day I started thinking that maybe I needed to try it anyway. This was just a few months ago. Then my husband, who has a wonderful way of always pushing me to be better in such a loving way said "well, are you ready to fly?" I thought maybe I'd take a short flight just to say that I had done it. He had different plans. He informed me that we would be going across the country and flying. With a layover to and from we would be have FOUR different flights and be in the air a total of 6 hours each way. WHAT?!? I have never been so excited and so terrified at the same time!

As the time of our departure grew closer, I thought I would literally die. When we arrived at the airport and I had to sit and wait to board I did everything I could to hide my fear. A few tears even slipped out! (If you know me, you know that I do NOT cry. Or at least not in public!!) TEARS!!! Just sitting there!!!! I wasn't crying, I was just so terrified that they slipped out.

Then the time came. The airline announced that we would start boarding. We were in the last group so I watched as others boarded the plane and I froze. I didn't know if I was going to throw up, pass out or what but whatever would happen would not be pretty! Then they called our group number. Would I allow fear to continue to control me? I've already told you that I'm not that kind of person. I knew that I had no choice but to step on that plane so I began walking towards the door. I went through the little tunnel thing (Hey, I'm not a frequent flyer, I have no idea what it's called ha ha) and got to the door of the actual plane. I literally froze. My heart felt as if it would fall out of my chest it was beating so hard. I could not step over that threshold! With a line behind me I stood there and faced my fear.

With every bit of my might, I stepped onto that plane! Suddenly, I felt different. Still concerned, but the huge fear was slowly fading. Just after stepping over that threshold. With my husband's help, I find my seat and buckle up. Being the gentleman that he is, he gives me the window seat so I stare out the window and wait. "I can do this!" I think. I'm still scared but am no longer thinking of running out the door screaming. After a while (What seemed like forever!) the plane starts moving. I look around like a child who is in a horror movie, but somewhere from deep inside me I think it will all be ok.

Now I should stop there and explain. My fear was so huge that before we left, I told everyone, my kids especially, to have a good funeral for me when I died. I was facing my fear but a part of me actually thought I would die (go ahead, take a minute and laugh, its ok, I do now!). At some point, my fear all faded; just that quick. By the time we got to our layover city and onto the next plane, I had no concerns and just enjoyed the flight.

My fear was irrational. I couldn't have even told you WHY  I was afraid. I had no real reason to be afraid. I am writing from the destination right now. I love visiting this state and I certainly love it's weather, but as for the ride back home, I don't mind it. I have looked in the sky while being here and seen planes and had no fear. It is completely GONE! I'm actually excited to fly again.

So that's (the short version) my story. "How does this affect me?" you might ask? Because we are all human. We all have this dysfunction of allowing things to take hold in our lives. It may be different for all of us but the meaning is all the same. Just like I overcame my fear of flying, you can overcome whatever it is that is holding you back.

How did I do it? What was my "recipe for success"? It was not my own. I stepped onto that plane because I knew that I had a choice. I could allow it to control me or I could take the reins and tell my fear to get lost. I don't want you to think that I did this on my own strength, because I was nothing more than a scared little girl, but I knew that I had a big God who held me the entire time. I spent months before the flight praying for God to give me the strength. I prayed constantly the morning of the trip. I had numerous people praying for me. My prayers were answered because He loves me and wants only good for me. I even had a wonderful friend who works for the airlines helping me with any question I had (thank God for her patience and help!!) God gave me the strength. I want to make sure to give all the glory to Him because this would not have happened without His strength!

But with that said, He also gave me a choice. Was I going to trust Him and live or was I going to chose to stay fearful and miss out on things? It took me almost 45 years to make the choice to trust Him and get on that plane. Now I feel so silly. I have missed so much by choosing to be fearful. I could have gone on so many trips and flown to so many places, but I decided to let fear have a hold on me. I was missing out on so much fun and adventure!

So my question to you is what do you choose to do? Do you want to allow whatever is holding you back to continue keeping you from living? I challenge you today, whatever it is that is holding you back, be an overcomer! Trust in God and chose to live for Him and don't let fear hold you back. You see, that flight wasn't about my safety, it was about my trusting in an amazing God. It was about me holding onto my own abilities and not living life. Today I am praising God in Arizona because He finally showed me to let go and give Him all of the control.

GraceLight Ministries: What We Do and a Plea for Help

What do you think of when you hear the word abortion?

Maybe you think, "Abortion is wrong! No one should do it and it should be made illegal!"

Or perhaps you're on the other side and you think, "It's a women's right and her choice as to what happens to her body!"

But what if I told you that there is another side to this great "debate". What if it was more than just an issue and that we all should consider something else surrounding abortion that not a lot of people are thinking about? There is another side and while many babies are dying, many other lives are being destroyed daily. This is something that we need to consider, and something that we MUST take a stand for immediately.

What I am talking about is the after-effect of abortion. Society tells us that abortion is ok and they fight for the "right" but everything stops once the woman leaves the clinic or hospital on that dreadful day. However, for the woman, it does not stop. For her, it is only the beginning of her horror.

Some may look at a post-abortive woman and think, "Oh, bless her heart" maybe they'll even commit to praying for her, but are we as a society, as a church reaching out to her? Or, perhaps the bigger question, are we showing woman that we will be a safe place for her to come to and open our arms to her; showing her love and compassion should she muster up the courage to stand and admit that she has made this "choice" and that she has been struggling ever since?

This is something that people may not understand because they have not gone through an unplanned pregnancy or an abortion. I can certainly understand that. Until the summer of 1997, I did not understand either. Until I was faced with this choice and my life was forever changed. But not knowing does not make us exempt. Can we drive down a road that has no speed limit sign and go whatever speed we want to? Absolutely not! It is up to us to find out the speed limit so that we can drive accordingly. Using that same analogy, it is up to us as the church and a society who cares about the women to understand and to take a stand for them.

That is the job that I want to do through GraceLight Ministry. I want to help educate people in the need for post-abortion care. I want to help women and men to feel confident to stand and admit what they have done so that they can gain the healing that they so desperately need. I want to help churches become aware of the amount of post-abortion souls that are silently crying out for help and show them ways to become open arms for the hurting to find healing.

Sadly, there are many churches who think that post-abortion care belongs to the Pregnancy Resource Centers or that they don't have anyone who is post-abortive at their church. This thinking is not only wrong but it is very dangerous. This thinking is what Satan has been using to keep these hurting souls in bondage. It is time to step up and fight for them. Won't you join me?

Please consider allowing GraceLight Ministry to come speak to your church, your women's group, or your youth group. There are many ways that you could help me. Introduce me to your pastor, tell people in your church about GraceLight Ministry, share this or any other of my ministry posts on Facebook, comment on the posts or hep me get some conversations going. Pray for GraceLight Ministry.

It's time we join together and stand for these hurting men and women. That is my goal for GraceLight Ministry. Won't you consider joining with me, please?

What Hurts the Most

Pain. We all have to deal with it, some better than others. This is the story of one of my struggles with pain, regret and sorrow.

I had always thought that I had a pretty good handle on pain. I was very good at either letting the pain go or burying it deep within me. But then something horrible happened. My brother died.

My brother loved me more than I ever realized. He was human and had his misgivings for sure, but he was a good guy. I was the mean little sister. I picked on him and egged him on in fights while we were growing up constantly. But he always loved me and always wanted the best for me. When I had a boyfriend growing up, he would make friends with them just because I asked him to. Sometimes, he didn't want to but he still did anyway, just because he loved me. He gave up so many things that he dearly loved for me, and I never even noticed... until it was too late.

The last two weeks of my brother's life is a time that I will never forget. He was very sick and refusing care. The last time that he had gone to the hospital started a big fight. We knew that if he didn't get help he would die and I was not happy about that. Even still, he refused the care and the doctors sent him home. I was so upset I couldn't even look at him. I refused to talk to my brother for a few days. I will never get those days back.

Unfortunately, my guilt does not end there. There were many chances that I had to go visit him and I refused. I always found a reason not to. Many missed chances, lost memories, lost precious minutes. However, that is still not what hurts the most.

My brother's last day of life is a day that I would give anything to re-live. He called me that morning. He asked me if I would get a hold of his doctor for him. Being a very busy homeschool mom of five small children and knowing that he wouldn't listen to what his doctor said anyway, I really didn't want to be bothered. I answered his plea with attitude. My mind won't even allow me to remember the entire conversation, but I know that I refused his request. He ended up saying that it would be ok and for me not worry about it. So I didn't. I hung up the phone and went back to my day. I'll never forget his last words to me. He paused before hanging up and said "Hey Steph... I love you" I was frustrated and gave a quick "yeah, love you too" and hung up.

A few hours later, around lunch time I had the strangest feeling to go check on my brother. It was a very strong feeling. I called him and could not get an answer. After trying a few more times with no luck, I called my aunt who lived near where he lived and asked her to go check on him. She told me that she had seen him a little bit ago and that he was fine. So with that news, I let the nagging feeling go. A decision I will regret for the rest of my life.

Fast Forward a few more hours, now it's dinner time. I'm busy fixing dinner and keeping my kids occupied when the phone rings. When I answer I hear my step-dad frantic. He's saying those words that I will never forget, "Steph! Robb's gone!" Not understanding what he meant, I told him to calm down and that he was probably at his friend's house. "NO! HE'S G-G-G-G-GONE!!" he screams. With those words, my life would change forever.

I rushed to his house and found that my brother was dead. I talked to the paramedic, who happened to be a friend of mine from church and he hit me with one last does of life-long guilt. I asked my friend if he was sure that my brother was dead. Surely CPR or some other life-saving technique could be used and he'd bounce back up and be ok, right? Oh if that could be reality. My friend told me that there was a way to determine about how long he had been gone. The estimated time of his death was the time that I had the urge to go be with him.

I do not believe that had I been there, that I could have saved my brother, maybe I could have but probably not. But what I could've done was be there with him when he died. I could have held him and told him that I was sorry. I could have told him that I loved him. Instead, I selfishly stayed in my own bubble, my own little world and didn't allow myself to be bothered with him and his problems. I not only let him die alone but let him lay there for hours with no one with him.

Why? Why was I so selfish? Why could I not love him the way he loved me? So many "why's" that I will never be able to answer. I can speak in the air, or go to his grave, but I will never be able to let him hear me say "I'm sorry" I will never be able to make things right with him.

Pain I can handle. It's the regret that I can't handle. The regret that I cannot let go of. The finality of it all. These are the things that hurt the most. These are the things that even now, 14 years later that I cannot seem to let go of. This Sunday is the anniversary of his death. It will be the first time in 14 years that I have not been to his grave site. He will, as always, be on my mind all day long.

This song came out around the time of his death. Every time I hear it, I think of Robb. I think of the things that hurt me the most. I think of the regret that I have. I think of how much I miss him. Please take a minute and listen to the song. Think of those that you love. Tell them that you love them. Let the little things go. Sometimes, let the big things go! Have a good relationship with your loved ones now. Because one day, it will be too late.

If I could only have five more minutes with him...

What Hurts the Most by Rascall Flats

Making the Bible say What it Doesn't Say

This morning I have seen two things about the Bible that have gotten me thinking about how we need to be careful about what we say about the Bible and what it says. It is very important that we don't confuse our own interpretations and traditions with the actual truth.

I saw a post on Facebook (I apologize, I went back and tried to find it to add to this post, but I've lost it) about things that were believed to be in the Bible but were not. The problem with this post is that most of what they were saying was wrong. A great example of this is the fact that the post claimed that the Bible never mentions hell. Ummm... really?? I don't even know where they get that! There were other things in there that were just totally wrong or misrepresentations and word-twisting but that was the biggest example. This is a very dangerous and irresponsible way of handling God's Word.

Also, I was doing my Bible study this morning and came across something similar. I was reading about Daniel, if you spent any time in Sunday School, you know all about Daniel and the lion's den. In chapter 6 of the book of Daniel it tells us that because of an order that the king was tricked into signing into law, he had to place Daniel in a den of lions. Now it's safe to use our imagination here as to what should happen to Daniel. The lions would eat him, right? Of course, that's not how the story ended. Our amazing God sent His angel to shut the mouths of the lions and Daniel survived. The king had spent the entire night worrying and rushed to the den in the morning to see if Daniel's God had saved him.

This is a great story about God's faithfulness and I love to read about it. However, in my study, the author stated that Daniel spent the night in peace and in the arms of an angel. The problem with this is that the Bible does not say that he spent the night in peace. It does tell us that the king spent the night worrying, but mentions nothing about how Daniel spent the night other than that he was in with the lions.

I had to ask myself if it was worth thinking it through and does it matter if we assume that Daniel spent his time with the lions in perfect peace. I don't want to be over-thinking or judgmental, but I do think that this is a point worth debating and here is why. When we assume things like this we are setting some up for feeling like failures. I have seen this happen in my lifetime and have even experienced it myself. We (Christians) make assumptions like this and picture (for example) Daniel being so Godly that he spent the night peacefully sleeping while an angle held him securely and then it goes to feeling guilty and ashamed that we can't be so "holy". Satan finds his way in and tells us lies that we are worthless because we certainly don't have the faith that those Biblical saints had so we surely can't be usable by such a holy God. I have had someone say to me recently "I am struggling so bad, why am I such a sinner?"  You see, when we don't show our struggles (or that of the Biblical characters) then we make others feel like they aren't worthy of God.

Did Daniel spent the night with the lions happy and peaceful? Did he spend it cowering in the corner? Did he spend it partying with the lions and having pizza as shown in VeggieTales? We don't know. I bet he spent it in prayer. I am guessing that he didn't really get much sleep.   But I don't know. So I can't assume and teach with certainty either way. I know that he was human so at the very least, he was probably at least scared. Why are we as Christians so afraid to show others the human side? Why do we have to pretend that we are so perfect? The only One that is perfect is our God and we need to be pointing people to Him rather than ourselves. We can't make ourselves feel good and others feel bad. We all fail. We all sin. But we have an amazing God that covers all our sins. Praise Him for that!! But please don't try to make the Bible say things that it does not say.

A New Life

Twenty-one years and nine months ago I was a young, free spirit. I could attempt to make that sound like a beautiful thing, but a better way of describing me would be dumb, selfish and irresponsible. I made a lot of mistakes. I lived for myself and didn't think too much about anything outside of my own little bubble and what I had going on at the moment.

I was 22 years old and while my family loved me, I'm sure that I was quite a disappointment to them in many of my lifestyle choices. Some have told me that they were certain that I would never grow up and take responsibility for my life. I really didn't care. I considered myself responsible and thought that I had it all together because I had a job and my own place and took care of myself. Then something happened to show me just how little grown up I actually was.

Somewhere around late May, early June of that year, 1996, I found out that I was pregnant. My world was going to change. My selfish days were over. My partying days were over. I was just going to be a mommy, and I was perfectly ok with that. I was later told by some family members that they were sure that I would not even so much as be able to wake up with the baby for the late night feedings. Had I not changed, they may have been right.

But I did change. I wasn't yet a Christian, but I can look back and be one hundred percent positive that God used that little baby to completely change my world. It feels like just yesterday that I was leaving my aunts house that night to go to the hospital, prepared for a long night of labor, although I had no clue what that meant or the pain that I would suffer bringing my precious baby boy into the world. I can still see his precious little newborn face staring up at me; so handsome, so frail, so wonderful.

This little man of mine taught me how to love. He taught me how to care for others and how I needed to care for myself so that I could be there for him He was the first to teach me about unconditional love. He was the first to show me an unbreakable bond. We spent a lot of time in your first year with just you and me. No one else around and just growing together as new mother and son. You will always hold a special part of my heart because you taught me how to be a mom. Because of you, God allowed me to have a new life.

We have had many ups and downs in the last twenty-one years, but through it all, you have grown to be an amazing young man. So talented, so caring and thoughtful, such a wonderful, beautiful soul. I am so proud of my baby boy. Though you will always be my baby boy, your time as a child is over. You are starting your own life and have already done so much better than I did when I was your age. I am proud to be your mom. I love you so much more than you'll ever even know. But I hope that you always know that no matter where you go in life, I will always love you more than anything. I will always be here for you. I will always have your back.

I love you so much baby boy. I hope you have an amazing birthday!!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!   

My Dad's Last Days

Four years ago today I was at our church preparing for another busy Upward (basketball) Saturday. Snow was coming down in buckets and while the picture outside the window was beautiful, it proved to be very dangerous for driving. Because of that, Upward was cancelled for the day. Being the ones in charge of getting the church prepared for the day, my family and I were already at the church when the decision was made to cancel so we decided to close everything back up and make the trek home.

I remember thinking that it may be a peaceful, quiet day because we couldn't go anywhere thanks to the weather. I was happy for the change in pace and looked forward to getting caught up on things at home and playing games with my kids. As we know too well, it only takes one second for a persons whole life to change. That second happened on this Saturday for me.

My dad, who lived in my hometown which was three hours away from where I live had been in Hospice care for about three years. He had been up and down health-wise. There had been many times when I would get the call to hurry down to be at his side, so I was used to that at this point. But when this call came in, I knew it would be the last. Hospice had agreed. It was time to call the family in. My dad's health had declined and he had not been alert. He had been moved a few days before from the Hospice inpatient house to a local nursing home. The nurse, an old family friend, knew that his time was now very short.

I spent that Saturday feeling heart-broken and stuck. My dad was on his deathbed and could breathe his last breath at any moment and I was stuck in central Ohio. There was absolutely no way to make the trip to southern Ohio to be by his side. There was nothing that I could do. Nothing, but to pray. I cried many tears that day and prayed that God would let him hold on just until I could get there.

The weather broke throughout the day and praise God, the next morning I was able to make the trip to be by my daddy's side. Walking into my dad's room I felt so peaceful. His body was there, but it did not take long to realize that, while he was still breathing, his soul had already begun departing.

Dad slept, of course. Though he would "wake up" periodically, he really wasn't awake. It was just a matter of time, as his body had already begun the process of shutting down. While this was a sad thing for my family and me, it was joyous for him. We could even see it in his face. His body lay in that bed, but his mind, we could tell, was seeing Jesus.

I spent two nights in that little room with so many questions racing through my mind. During those two days, I also enjoyed precious time with some family and family friends that I hadn't seen in a long time. It was so good to spend time with them, I still to this day cherish that time. I remember talking with my husband, who was still at our home asking what I should do. We still had things that needed done at home, kids to get through school. We knew that his time was short, but it could have been minutes or a week. I didn't know if I should go home, get things organized, get more clothes and come back, or if I should stay. My husband, being his typical wonderful self, assured me that I needed to be there and that things would be ok at home. So I went to Walmart to buy some clean clothes to wear and decided to stay.

That next morning, Wednesday, my husband called and asked if I wanted him to come down. I told him that it was up to him. He said that he felt like he should be there to hold my hand, as I held my dad's hand. He gave all our kids the option to go and my daughter chose to come along as well. She would text me to update the progress of the trip. About the time that I knew they were almost there, we started to notice some differences in how my dad was. We were watching, but trying to stay calm as well. Some guests had just left and I sat down in the chair at the foot of my dad's bed. I was in college and wanted to try and get some of my work done. Almost as soon as I opened up my coursework, something started happening. My dad started shaking, almost as if he was having some sort of a seizure.

The shaking did not last too awful long and dad's body relaxed. Somehow, we all knew that the time we had been dreading for years had finally come. Just at that moment, my husband and daughter walked in the room. It was as if he was holding on for them to get there. I watched as hid chest would rise and fall; each breath a little more different and further apart. Someone had told me that when it got to this point we should count between breathes, so I did. 5... 10... 20... The nothing.

I will never forget my dad's last breath. I have never felt so sad and relieved at the same time. I was heart-broken that my daddy was gone, but so happy for him because I knew he was now in Heaven. I knew that the second he took that last breath he was in the arms of Jesus. He was vising with his mom and dad, his brother. He was no longer in pain. He was no longer sad. He was no longer worried. He was nothing but peaceful and happy. To this day, that understanding helps me deal with the pain and sadness of his departure.

Even though I will always have that peace, I will also always miss my daddy. I spent way too many years upset with him and not talking to him. I can never get those years back. But I know that at the end, we had a great relationship. I praise God that I got to hold his hand as he entered eternity. I know that he wanted me there.

Until I join you, I love you and miss you daddy.
Larry Bussa
1/1/47 - 1/29/14