Emily Cook's Blog, page 60

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Practicing Trials: Read and Receive

Sometimes, I read books to practice life.


I pretend I’m trying the story out, as if I could use the vicarious experience as a rehearsal, imagine what I’d do, and be better equipped to do that thing if my life ever comes to that. It’s like exercise. Getting in shape for the race that might be ahead.
If this happened to me, what would I do?
Would I do what this person did?
Would I be strong like they are?


I wonder how many people are reading my book in this way? Do some of you read to try out a trial, to “practice” a hard thing?


Of course, if the borrowed trial gets too intense, I can always just close the book and walk away.
That is power, SO much power. And that is the hardest thing with real trials: the lack of power. The awful experience of having NO control.


Some of you who read understand exactly what I mean.
There’s no practicing for this. There’s just living it, and trying to survive.


When Aggie was sick, really sick, I couldn’t even practice letting her go. I wanted to read a book by a parent who had suffered faithfully, but I could not bear to read one that went there, down to that valley. I did not dare to read a book written by a parent who buried a child. Sure, they survived the grief, and they probably grained wisdom that I needed… but, when Aggie was sick, I just couldn't do it.. I was sure even the practice would kill me. What then, of the reality?


I remember waking up mornings feeling in the grips of the trial, of evil and suffering and epilepsy. I felt as if my heart was in a vice, an icy cold metallic thing clamping down and squeezing. Not even in sleep would it let me go. And it was dragging me somewhere. Where are we going? Make it stop! Let us go!


You can’t really practice that.
You can’t know the cold grip of death on your heart until it grips, and it won’t let go.
And it’s dragging you somewhere and you’re sure you don’t want to be there. And you’re terrified.


What if it happened to you?
What if seizures invaded? Or your baby got sick? Or death stopped taunting in shadows and really threatened, driving you to uncertain hospital rooms?
If this happened to you, what would you do?


Would you be strong like I was?
If you read my book and tell me, “wow, you were so brave/strong/holy, blah blah blah,” I will know you did not really read it. I wasn’t strong. I tried my best to fake it. Perhaps you could fake it better than I did.

Would you do what I did?
Would you freak out, fight God, and fall apart more than once? Would you feel your sin flair up and your faith falter? Would you be horrified at your lack of love, lack of strength, lack of wisdom, lack of trust in God? Would you be flattened? Needy? Weak?


Would you cry out to God?
What else can mortals do? Lord, to Whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.

Would God listen?


That’s the question, isn’t it?


Does He hear? Would He listen, to YOU?
How do you know?

This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down His life for us.
He did not spare His own Son (for YOU). He will also graciously give you all things good for your soul.


You can’t practice a trial, but you can practice receiving from a Faithful God.  


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Today’s trials and griefs, big or little, show you your need. Don’t avert your eyes. See Yourself as He sees you: sinful and unclean, a beggar, weak, and at His mercy. Come to Him in the name of Jesus with your empty hands, and receive.


God welcomes us, His children, and gives us exactly what our souls need: All things, from daily bread to eternal life.


Look to Jesus. Cling to His word. Take refuge in Him, receiving His forgiveness and grace, and with that, all things good for your soul. Right now, you may be suffering for yet a little while, but take heart. He Who Promises will not fail you. His grip on You is firm, and His Words are Solid.


And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace, who has called you to his eternal glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish you. To him be the dominion forever and ever. Amen. 1 Peter 5:10-11
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If you don't have your eBook yet, get it here. It's free through July 19! For more like this see the series:
 My Weakness His Strength -----------
I'd love to hear from you!Do you read books to practice life?How do you practice receiving from God?

Experimenting on Children: The Hike

As you may know, I love to experiment on my children. (Don't judge me. I mean like this.)
I love throwing them in a situation and standing back, observing and marveling, as I see the experience reveal new things about their personalities (or confirm things I already knew!)  My latest opportunity for data collection:
The Hike
Some might say that is a crazy idea. It was over 90 degrees out, and quite humid. Physically, the hike was challenging for the children, and I will admit even my legs were shaky by the end of it.
Behold, the various temperaments that tromped through the woods with us that day:

The Romantic: This child noticed the beauty of the bird flying over the water. She stopped to take in the view from the top of the hill, and she stood back to marvel at the immense trees that towered above our heads. She walked with me, and we marveled and praised together.The Humming Bird: This child flutters happily down the trail, free like a bird. She generally does not notice the scenery and is caught up in the thrill of the journey. She slows down only when her breath is needed to sing silly songs inspired by funny-looking stumps.The Scientist: This child spies the beavers' marks on the trees, and asks, why do beavers do that? He wants to track them and find their dam, but it is off the trail. He inspects the roots of the fallen tree, notices the holes of the woodpecker and he questions, questions, questions. The Adventurer: This child barrels down the trail as fast as he can go. He stops to gather acorns or rocks, and then hides to throw them at the other hikers. He laughs and runs ahead again, and his tiny voice up ahead that says “Hey guys, dare me to do this?” inspires mom to pick up her pace.Mama’s boy: This boy is content to hike along as long as mom is near. He holds my hand or rides on my back, and we both try not to complain about the sweaty heat.The Undaunted: This child may be slow, but he plods along with unbroken spirit. He refuses all offers of help, and he presses on with cheeks blazing red and jaw set. (This child is our 22 month old. He hiked 1.5 miles without an once of help. Daddy says he will be our survivalist, or our soldier.)
More data: The threat of danger
At one point on our journey, I stopped to give warning. “Kids, this next part is pretty hilly and there are some steep cliffs. I want you to walk carefully, and to stay on the path. Make sure you are always looking where you are going and do not get too close to the edge.”

As I talk, I see various looks on red faces:Tired eyes, as if thinking “mom, just stop talking so I can keep plodding along and get back to the drinking fountain.”Nervous eyes, looking widely down the path, and perhaps even inching closer to me.  Mama's boy took my hand and pulled it close.Dancing eyes: This child got a fresh burst of energy when I said the word “dangerous,” and now he is begging me to stop talking so he can go see the danger for himself.(This is the child that scares me the most.)
When they really started to wilt, I threatened them with "Whine Spray." You know, the stuff that you can spray on whiney children and it makes them unable to talk for an hour? (I wish!) Since I didn't have any of that, we made up stories about dragons and polar bears and snow (and swords, at the insistence of the Adventurer.) Then they all passed out in the van on the way home.A great day, indeed.
I'd love to hear from you!
Do you go hiking with your family?What did you learn the last time you went on an outing with your children?(For great tips on hiking with children see Let Their Confidence Shine by Dakotapam)
For more experiments on children see:The Mommy FitMommy Fit AnalysisThe Donation BoxIn the VanThe Stomach Flu
Don't forget to get your copy of Weak and Loved FREE until July 19! Get it HERE and Tell your friends!

On Broken Hearts and Baked Goods...

A great grief has come into that home, and you want to say something. Or do something. But nothing seems adequate. How can words possibly help in the face of tragedy? How can a bowl of soup even matter, when a heart has been broken to pieces?
I think these thoughts, too, but I go into my kitchen and I bake. I know a pie will not fix the problem. It will not take away the grief. But I make the pie anyway because I know it is important.
Read my Guest Post "On Broken Hearts and Baked Goods" over at Ashley's place. 
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What do you want people to do when you are flattened with grief?Have you ever been uplifted by just a pie?

Free eBook: Weak and Loved A Mother-Daughter Love story

Join us as we celebrate the grace of Godand three years of seizure-freedom.
Rejoice with us, and tell your friends!Read more about the book here

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She's been seizure free for three years.
Yet my heart still jumps when she does things like this.
And I pray.
(I know she's Yours, Lord, but please don't take her.)

I told her I wanted to celebrate this special day, the anniversary of her surgery.
She doesn't like talking about her surgery,
but she loves to celebrate.
She asked if we could have ice cream for breakfast.
I said, "of course."

Thank You, God, for this moment of health and life.

Why store moments?

Why store moments?


I am a writer, a gatherer of moments. I look for things that inspire, for drops of grace, for moments of beauty around me, so that I can capture them and pass them on.  I see them often in my children. My mind records the snapshot with a “click,” and I return to it later and paint it with words.

And then I stop and wonder, why store moments?  Why keep my eyes and hands open? What am I collecting memories for?

Read the rest at Allume 

Do you gather moments? What good are they?
Leave me a comment here or there!

The Night Before Surgery

The Night Before Surgery
(Excerpt from Weak and Loved: A Mother-Daughter Love Story.)
Written July 14, 2009

It was the evening before surgery. I knew the next day would be one of those days by which we mark time. July 14 would be our last day “before Aggie’s brain surgery,” and everything that was to come would be known as time “after Aggie’s brain surgery.” How should we spend one last night “before surgery” with our sick little Aggie?

            We took Aggie on a walk to Lake Erie in the afternoon. We let her run around in the grass and the sunshine. I chased her and gave her a good (last?) wrestling match. Later in the hotel room, we had a feast with fried chicken and chocolate milk and a ridiculous amount of candy. Friends came to see her, grandparents, and big sister Lorraine. They all got to squeeze in a few (last?) tickles and snuggles and hugs. I took lots of video, just in case. I joined the others in trying to infuse that one evening with all the life and fun that we could.
            I couldn’t help but notice that Aggie did not feel the weight of those moments as we did. She had no desire to soak up each little experience, to store them away somewhere just in case things never returned to normal. She did not breathe in the fresh air deeply enough, she did not enjoy her last evening with hair as I would if I were her. She was just being a kid; bouncing from one thing to the next, fluttering around as if this were just another day, taking those everyday blessings—the sunshine, the wind in her hair, the running and playing—for granted.

            Finally, we turned out the lights, and she went right to sleep. I lay in bed with my eyes open, wishing I was more like Aggie. 


She knows what is coming tomorrow, yet she sleeps soundly. 


And why should she worry? God who gave her joy in the sunshine today will hold her close in the valley tomorrow.


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God restored Aggie to health through that surgery.  


This weekend, we remember the fragility of Aggie and all of our children, and we celebrate this moment of health and life that we share because of His grace.


If you haven't read her whole story yet, you can get the eBook FREE, starting tomorrow (July 15.)
Please help yourself and tell a friend!




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Download it hereor get the paperback
If you've read the book already, don't forget to check out How's Aggie for the latest news and more photos!

Motherhood and letting go

My children are not mine. They are on loan to me by God. I get to care for them today, and nothing after today has been promised to me. Worse yet, I have no right to complain about this. I am not entitled to them, or anyone else I love for that matter. They are mine to love, and someday, to let go.

This weekend, I remember one very difficult letting-go.
I remember when we said goodbye, and how we didn't really know what kind of goodbye we were saying.


Would Aggie be coming home with us? The same Aggie we took? A helped Aggie? A brain-damaged Aggie? Would we come back with good news and hope, or devastating news and last resorts?



They took our smiling child to that room where the real work would begin. I could have counted that moment as my workout for the day: the wrestling I did inside myself in order to let her go. There was a part of me that wanted to grab the gurney, pull her away from those people with needles and drills, and keep her safe with me. No you may not do those awful things to my baby! But she was not safe with me either, and so I let her go. (Weak and Loved A Mother-Daughter Love Story)



When I think of that moment of "letting" them take her to surgery, it reminds me also of that day I "let" my husband get on a plane and go to war.  (As if I had any choices in these matters.)

These are the moments when I see that I do not possess the people I love, that I do not get to demand another day with them.

To a lesser extent, this is the same thing that I feel whenever they go out from under the umbrella of my (supposed) protection:

Summer camp.
Play dates.
Sickness that won't go away.
Visits to Grandma and grandpa's.
Kindergarten.
 
These letting-gos are practice. They force our eyes open, and we see our smallness, the world's dangers, and the gulf between here and eternity.  They move us to fear, and to prayer.


God, take good care of my baby.


How do you deal with times of letting-go, little or big?

My Weakness/His Strength #5: Grace For the Pin Pricks of Today

My heart is not stabbed with the arrow of epilepsy or depression at the moment. My wound is not gushing. And yet, even healthy and seemingly capable, I need. 
Perhaps I can see this more clearly than others because of the sheer quantity of children I have: I simply cannot meet all their needs. Not even the legitimate ones. My patience is not strong enough, my heart is not big enough. I don’t love them enough. I’m not talking about being their god; or filling a hole that I was never meant to fill. I’m just talking about my calling. I’m their mom. And I don’t love them enough. I love them much less than I love myself.
That sounds harsh, but it is true. This selfish heart of mine is not capable of giving my kids the love they deserve. I just don’t have it in me.
How do I know?I know because the pin pricks remind me. The pricks of everyday life reveal again and again, my sin and my need. (And these six children, how they prick me!)
They wake me up early and I don’t CARE what they do or what they watch so long as they leave me alone.They leaven their shoes in the living room and I throw them down the hall in anger.Boy hits boy and the screaming makes me MAD.The child wets the bed and I stomp around about it.The baby tap-tap-taps on my arm and I yell, “WHAT!? Stop touching ME!” and he cries.They talk, talk, talk at me, and I find myself thinking crazy thoughts.Even healthy and strong, I need. I need grace like I need air.

Our Father did not say to His children, “call me when you’ve had a horrible day and I’ll see what I can do.”Prayer is not meant to be like dialing 911: Emergencies only, and it had better be serious!Rather, God says, “Abide in me, for apart from me, you can do nothing.” He gives us all good things, freely, from eternal life to daily bread.
When I was flattened, my ears were opened and I heard the song of God’s love for me. He called to me and carried me and upheld my heart when I could not do it alone.

It’s a song I hear, grace I breathe in, even on a normal day like today.

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Do the pin pricks of everyday life reveal the selfishness in your heart, too?Do you use prayer like 911?How has God shown His love to you this week, in big or little things?
This weekend we are celebrating the anniversary of My Great FlatteningAggie's brain surgery.Rejoicing in three years seizure-freedom this Sunday.

Don't miss a thing! Follow Weak and Loved by Email, Facebook, RSS, or Twitter Join the conversation, and tell your friends!

My Weakness/His Strength:
See the whole series here 

My Weakness/His Strength#5: Grace For the Pin Pricks of Today

My heart is not stabbed with the arrow of epilepsy or depression at the moment. My wound is not gushing. And yet, even healthy and seemingly capable, I need. 
Perhaps I can see this more clearly than others because of the sheer quantity of children I have: I simply cannot meet all their needs. Not even the legitimate ones. My patience is not strong enough, my heart is not big enough. I don’t love them enough. I’m not talking about being their god; or filling a hole that I was never meant to fill. I’m just talking about my calling. I’m their mom. And I don’t love them enough. I love them much less than I love myself.
That sounds harsh, but it is true. This selfish heart of mine is not capable of giving my kids the love they deserve. I just don’t have it in me.
How do I know?I know because the pin pricks remind me. The pricks of everyday life reveal again and again, my sin and my need. (And these six children, how they prick me!)
They wake me up early and I don’t CARE what they do or what they watch so long as they leave me alone.They leaven their shoes in the living room and I throw them down the hall in anger.Boy hits boy and the screaming makes me MAD.The child wets the bed and I stomp around about it.The baby tap-tap-taps on my arm and I yell, “WHAT!? Stop touching ME!” and he cries.They talk, talk, talk at me, and I find myself thinking crazy thoughts.Even healthy and strong, I need. I need grace like I need air.

Our Father did not say to His children, “call me when you’ve had a horrible day and I’ll see what I can do.”Prayer is not meant to be like dialing 911: Emergencies only, and it had better be serious!Rather, God says, “Abide in me, for apart from me, you can do nothing.” He gives us all good things, freely, from eternal life to daily bread.
When I was flattened, my ears were opened and I heard the song of God’s love for me. He called to me and carried me and upheld my heart when I could not do it alone.

It’s a song I hear, grace I breathe in, even on a normal day like today.

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Do the pin pricks of everyday life reveal the selfishness in your heart, too?Do you use prayer like 911?How has God shown His love to you this week, in big or little things?
This weekend we are celebrating the anniversary of My Great FlatteningAggie's brain surgery.Rejoicing in three years seizure-freedom this Sunday.

Don't miss a thing! Follow Weak and Loved by Email, Facebook, RSS, or Twitter Join the conversation, and tell your friends!

My Weakness/His Strength:
See the whole series here