Off-Roading Garling Style Part 5: Letting Go of Family

I was cleaning up my mess after making pecan pies to give away to friends for their Thanksgiving celebrations when my nightmares invaded my waking thought once again.  I closed my eyes and gripped the edge of the sink, grinding my teeth to keep from crying.

I was so tired of this dream.

It's after the wreck, and I am sitting on the ground between the truck and the camper cradling Matt's dead body in my arms, as I rock back and forth sobbing uncontrollably.  And then as the scene replays, it's Grace's dead body I'm holding instead.  And a third time with Isaac's dead body.  A fourth time with both Matt and Grace being dead.  A fifth time with Matt and Isaac.  A sixth time with Grace and Isaac.

It's actually a fairly elegant nightmare honestly because of the perfect pattern of the replay.   It's curious to me how I apply good math even to my worst nightmare.

And devastating to me that in all six replays, Vern is dead. 

I glanced up from the kitchen sink, drinking in the scene of all three kiddos eating supper at the table as I prepare my heart for the task at hand.

To once again let go of my family.

I have let go of so many things in my life just like you have.  You can name those things just as easily as I can name them for myself.  Things that have torn up your heart in ways that you thought you could never recover from.

Like when I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2012.  But in that year of treatments, I learned a precious lesson.  I learned that I could trust Jesus with my life. 

But now, after the wreck, these nightmares make me realize that I am having a hard time trusting Him with the lives of my family.

I must come to understand that He cares for them even more than I do myself.  It's a tough thing to grasp.  Particularly after a horrible event occurs because I must choose to believe He is still looking out for their best interests too.

But I know in my heart that I must let them go and give them to God. Because only then can I really do what they need from me most. Which is simply to love them through those tough times and point them back to God.

Because Beloved, He is the answer to all their tough stuff, not me.

"Mom", Isaac said crawling into my lap after a shower, his hair still damp, "God saved us, didn't He?"

"Yes, Baby, He did. Just to show you how much He loves you even when things seem so bad."

Those blue eyes looked into mine, absorbing that thought.

"God fights for me." He said with his chest all puffed up.

"Yes, Baby, He sure does.  And He will never stop doing that."

And then Matt and Grace were piling onto my lap, the combined giggles of the redeemed leaving no room for the nightmare. 

Look to the LORD and to his strength. Always look to him. 1 Chronicles 16:11

If you do not know Jesus as your savior, I suggest you seek Him out.  You just never know when your time is up on this earth.

Website for views of the wreck that made the news:
http://kfor.com/2014/07/11/traffic-alert-emergency-crews-on-scene-of-rv-accident-on-i-35/

Off-Roading Garling Style Part 4: What Texans Do In the Dark

Isaac stopped buckling his seatbelt, staring wide eyed at his grandmother.

"Grandma," Isaac looked worriedly at his grandma, "What if we have another wreck?"

Vern's folks, Ralph and Carol, had been the first to arrive in Guthrie.  They had left their house in Irving around 5 and forced their way through the agonizing rush hour traffic in Dallas, arriving in Guthrie around 9PM.  After picking up the kids, they were about to take the trip home in the dark.  

"Baby, God is going to take care of us on the ride home.  Just like He did when that semi truck hit you earlier today." Isaac seemed satisfied with that answer, and after having a time of prayer with his grandparents, Matt and Grace, he settled down for the 4 hour drive to Ovilla.

I hadn't gotten to say "goodbye" to the kids before they left Guthrie and headed home.  My new friend Stephanie, who had seen the entire wreck take place as she was heading home from work, had come to the hospital with her husband and took us to their home to have supper and wait while Vern's folks and a few close church friends made their way to Guthrie to pick us up.  Stephanie and I were at the local drug store getting Vern's medications when Ralph and Carol arrived at her house in Guthrie.  Everyone felt it was best to not wait for us to return and instead get the kiddos home as quickly as possible. But I called Carol and had her give the phone to each of the kids so that I could talk to them as they were headed home, just to reassure them (and me) that we were all still okay.

With the kids safely on their way back home with Vern's folks, the rest of us headed over to the wrecking yard in the dark to pull everything out that was salvageable--because most everything we needed on a day to day basis was in that camper.  But the emotional relief of gathering our things and taking them home was also just as necessary.

As we walked into the gate where the truck was we all stopped in our tracks, jaws dropping to the ground.  It was the first time our friends had seen it, and there was something about seeing what a beating it had taken that spoke volumes about God's awesomeness, faithfulness and protection. As Monja cried softly, she turned to Vern and Kai and said, "Who wouldn't believe in God after seeing this--knowing you had all walked away with your lives?"

So three trucks (The McKnight's, The Farda's and our suburban--Monja and her son Kai had driven that up) loaded up what had once fit into our camper and headed back home in the dark. Vern and Denny rode with The McKnight's, Michael's truck was too stuffed to hold anyone but himself, and I rode in our suburban with Monja driving and Kai in the back.

It had been less than 10 hours since the wreck had occurred and Vern was already in his element, even urging the clerk at the gas station to get right with Jesus because you never know when it's your last day. Even a fresh witness can occur in the dark.

What else do Texans do in the dark?  I'll tell you.

1. They put all of their Friday night plans aside and drive through rush hour Dallas traffic to get to their friends and family in need.
2. They coordinate a plan because the family they are helping is in no shape to make decisions.
3. They cry and laugh with you over the tragedy and miracle of the situation.
4. They spend two hours pulling your stuff out of the wreckage with you, with only a few teases about some personal items.
5. They find your scripture ring in the wreckage that has countless index cards on it with verses that are precious to you that you carry with you everywhere, and hand it to you because they know it will bring you comfort.
6. They get back on the road, bone tired and emotionally drained (and loaded up on Sunkist) to get you home as quickly as possible because that's what you need them to do for you.
7. And they don't try to persuade you to go with another plan.
8. They giggle with you because you swear you saw a 4 foot beaver in the road.  (Hint:  only the Texan on massive pain medication saw THAT.)
9. They let you run through the events of the wreck over and over and urge you to rest while they drive you back home.
10. They unload one truck before heading to their homes.  Or just take your packed suburban home with them to keep you from being tempted to start unloading that without their help.

Everyone was gone as the sun started peaking its head over the horizon.  We checked on the kids to be sure they were sleeping OK, then headed for the showers.  Rivers of red Oklahoma dirt drifted to the drain, and I was so glad to see it go.

 But we saw a lot more Oklahoma red dirt that day.

About 5 hours after arriving at home, the doorbell rang.  JD and Lauren Shields set up wash stations on the front and back porches to wash the red dirt off of all our camper inventory. Stephanie and Tommy McKnight had caught some quick winks after their long drive to Guthrie and back again to Ovilla in the dark and came to the house to help unload the last truck and coordinate the day for us as we were in no shape to do it ourselves.  I remember Vern was on the couch dozing off and on as the pain from his head wound and his cut up hands started to really hit him.  I was stiffening up pretty good by then too and the bruise on my shoulder/chest had deepened to a dark purple. I was so thankful that we were not driving anymore that day. I was trying to help get things put away after the red dirt had been washed off, and Tommy would get frustrated with me because I wouldn't sit down. Rhett Shields took a bath in the front porch tub--hard for a little guy to resist all that water and he made us all laugh! Monja Kiefer had taken our suburban home with her loaded down with most of the clothes, and spent the weekend washing and drying those. Kai Kiefer cleaned my truck inside and out--best detail job I've ever had. Renee Cole had the forethought to realize all of our food was lost in the wreck, and in the dark hours of the night, had restocked our kitchen with all the perfect things she knows our kiddos love to eat. Leah Farda came later that afternoon to help finish up and also ran some errands for me as we were in no shape to drive.  She was there to comfort me when I had my first nightmare. Brandy Conklin had already started a Meal Calendar and brought us supper that night.

Tommy McKnight came and picked us up for church the next morning.  By then, our church family knew what had happened, and I'm not sure who was more shocked--them because we were at church already less than 2 days after the wreck, or us because our church family was shocked we were at church.  

Vern kept saying that there was nowhere else he would rather be after experiencing such a miracle than there in church to worship God.

Because whether it's in the dark or in the light, we choose to worship God.

I will sing of Your strength, in the morning I will sing of Your love; for You are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.  Psalm 59:16

Off-Roading Garling Style Part 3: We are His

I squinted against the hot Oklahoma sun in the doorway of the ambulance as the tow truck driver hooked our 7.3L diesel Excursion which we had fondly named "Max" to the tow line.   The gear wined as it pulled Max off his side back onto all 4 wheels.

I was so nauseated at the site of it, I nearly threw up.  You see, while the truck was on its side, you couldn't really tell the damage that had been done to the driver's corner of the truck.  But with Max back on all fours...well.  Off-roading Garling style had turned our truck into a convertible. And Vern had clearly gotten the worst of it as we had barrel rolled through that ditch.

I leaned against the doorway of the ambulance and squeezed my eyes shut knowing that the scene before me would be burned in my memory forever.

One of the Guthrie firefighters stood in front of the truck, his hands on his hips staring at the damage. I took his picture because it was easier to focus on what he might be thinking than to deal with the thoughts racing through my head.  Thoughts of how I could be cradling our hurt or dead kiddos in my arms.  Thoughts of how we could be rushing to the ER.  Thoughts of how I could be planning funerals for one or all of them.  Thoughts of how I could have been spending the rest of my life on Earth without Vern or the kids.

"Is everybody buckled in?" I croaked as I took my seat in the ambulance.  The kids were, but the EMT had forgotten to strap Vern into the gurney.  So he got Vern buckled in as the ambulance slowly merged with traffic heading to the hospital.  I sat there, drinking in what each of my guys looked like and the sound of their voices.  We were hot and exhausted with tears making clean streaks through all that red Oklahoma dirt on our faces.  But the lot of them had never looked so sweet to me and I thanked The Lord that we did not need those ambulance sirens on. 

They put Vern in one room, and sat me down at the check-in desk.  The kids sat on the floor at my feet, their unspoken need to be near a parent being met as best I could at that moment.  The clerk kept passing me papers to sign.  One for Vern.  One for me.  One for Matt.  One for Grace.  One for Isaac.  And each time I signed my name on those forms, my hands trembled with the overwhelming and sobering realization that I was signing them all in because we were all alive.  

Perhaps a better person would be dancing in the triage room with that realization.  Or at least smiling.  Instead, I was perfectly still, tears welling to the surface that had come from somewhere so deep that I just didn't have the strength to deal with them.  So I buried those tears back in the depths where they had risen and walked wearily with the kids back to our room in the ER.

I sat on the bed, and the kids piled on with me.  Isaac in my lap, softly crying.  Grace's head buried in my shoulder as she sobbed.  Matt sitting behind me, holding my hand.  And all the while I was whispering to them tenderly about the deep and wide love that Jesus had shown us that day.

Because we should all be dead.  Irretrievably gone.  No last meaningful "I love you"'s.  No final hugs or kisses.  Just our North Dakota and Texas parents planning funerals for their babies and their babies' babies. 

"You kids need something to drink?  There are sodas and juice boxes in the fridge, why don't you go help yourself and I'll get you some cups with ice?"  The nurse shuffled them off to the fridge, and I snuck out to go see Vern who was two doors down from us.  

It was the first time we had been alone just the two of us since the wreck.  We had no words for each other. Only waves of tears as we held each other in deep relief. I closed my eyes, and buried my face into his chest, breathing in deep the familiar smell of my man and marveling at how thankful I was to even be hearing his heart beat. The doctor came in and told us that the CT scan looked fine.  They would now work on Vern's wounds.  Dirt and grass had been ground into Vern's head wound that was over six inches long, and the nurses would work to get it cleaned out with liters of saline while the doctor stitched up Vern's filleted finger.  For the next two hours, I wore a small path in the tile floor between those two rooms. The kids were desperate to see their dad, but settled for a quick peak at him through the glass door.

Then they were sitting in our ER room huddled together watching TV and laughing while they drank their sodas and juice. I drank in the scene as if I had never seen them having a good time before and promised myself to never take another moment with them for granted.

"We are yours, Lord."  I whispered. 

"You ARE mine, Nancy."  That voice of the Holy Spirit was familiar to me, and I shut my eyes savoring the moment and opening my heart to the new understanding of what that meant.  I belonged to The Lord even in a storm of hot Oklahoma red dirt while buckled into a truck that was barrel rolling through a ditch.  My life was His.  My family's lives were His. And I realized that I had only scratched the surface of what that really means to belong to THE ONE TRUE GOD whose love for His children is deeper, higher, longer and wider than anything we can possibly understand.

Vern's wounds were the worst, but Grace had a seat belt burn at her waist that was worrisome because it could have damaged her internal organs.  Two belly checks and an X-ray later, she was discharged. I signed her papers in complete disbelief that she had been released.  Matt had a swollen right eye that he was quite fascinated with, but was also discharged.  The ER doc checked out Isaac, but he didn't have a scratch on him and so I was signing discharge papers for him as well. I had a black-purple bruise that covered my entire right shoulder, glass in my feet and a swollen left jaw. My hands trembled when the nurse gave me the clipboard to sign for my discharge instructions. Then the ER doc came in and said Vern was ready to be discharged as well.

We had been snatched from the jaws of death by our Jesus.  Our rescue had been perfectly orchestrated without us lifting even one finger.  And as Vern gathered us all into his arms there in that waiting room as the warm sun streamed in from the sky light above, we were grinning.  Because our Jesus had excelled that day beyond all earthly expectations and we had front row seats to the whole thing.

And He wasn't even done.

Only three hours had passed since the wreck.

And I pray that you and all God’s holy people will have the power to understand the greatness of Christ’s love—how wide, how long, how high, and how deep that love is.  Ephesians 3:18

Off-roading Garling Style Part 2: Messing with a Texan

I don't know a woman on this planet who hasn't at some point just sat down and cried her eyes out.  I certainly wanted to do that right then, but with Vern under medical attention by an Army medic who came to the scene and the kids looking a bit panicked (even with Denny back), it was not the time.

"Does everybody have a pair of shoes on?"  I asked the kids calmly, glancing to be sure Vern had his boots on.  They all did.  Woops.  Not me though.  I had been walking on a sea of glass at the wreckage in bare feet.  Some stranger found my flip flops inside the truck and dug them out for me.

"Does someone have a veterinarian around here that can check Denny out while we are at the hospital?"  My new friend, Stephanie, who saw us barrel roll through the ditch volunteered to take Denny to see her vet, who was just two exits up the road from there.  We exchanged phone numbers, and then off he went with Stephanie.

I asked Vern what had happened, and he said that a semi truck hauling a John Deere tractor (did it have to be a John Deere?!!!) tried to pass us and the blades of the tractor hit the back of the camper.  I went to take a picture of the back of the camper (my Nikon D5100 was still working fine) and sure enough.  There was John Deere green slapped onto the back of the camper right down the center.  He had clearly been going too fast (we were doing 65 and he tried to pass us), and too close (since the tractor he was carrying pegged the camper right in the center).

Someone was putting essentials in a pile for me.  Guns, wallets, phones.  Someone else was moving the propane tanks a safe distance from the wreck.  One man came up to me and handed me $200 and asked if he could pray with me for our family.  I did so gladly.  Another woman came up to me and assured me that Vern's head was nasty, but OK (she was an Army nurse), and asked to pray with me for our family.  I got the Guthrie firefighters digging through the camper wreckage to find my medicine box.  I would need that in the morning.

And then the truck driver who had rear-ended us showed up.  He had stopped his unharmed semi truck about 3/4 mile down the road and had walked back up with the guy he was traveling with. 

I can't tell you that the trucker came on the scene with his cowboy hat in hand asking if we were all OK and how sorry he was.  No, he took a different road altogether.  That trucker got into Vern's personal space and screamed at Vern that the whole thing was Vern's fault.  So there's Vern, his head and shoulders soaked in blood, his wife and three young kids badly shaken nearby, his beloved truck totaled and his camper reduced to toothpicks.  I could almost hear Vern's teeth grinding and his hackles coming up.

And at that moment, my husband could've taken the road that most people would expect him to take.  The road any man who dedicates his life to protecting his family would have been justified to take.  Instead, he went off-roading and with his best Texas manners, growled like the tiger he is at the trucker to leave or else he would find himself on the ground.

One of the guys at the scene said, "He sure is capable of doing it, too, Buddy.  You better go." And then the firefighters and the military guys and the sheriff were shooing the trucker away while the big bad tiger held a blue and white striped towel to his still bleeding head.

"Mom, doesn't that man care that he hurt us?"  my little Isaac asked me, wailing with disbelief.

"No Baby, he's not thinking straight.  Your dad knows that.  But look at all these people who don't even know us that are helping us." He nodded in understanding as I gazed at the tiger I had married 13 years ago in complete amazement.

A fool gives full vent to his anger, but a wise man keeps himself under control.  Proverbs 29:11

Part 3 to follow at a later date as this is plenty to absorb for one post.  Thanks to each of you for allowing me to use these blog posts as a means to process what we went through.  Knowing that so many are reading them has really helped me deal with it all.  Many thanks!

Let me add though, that if you do not know Jesus as your savior, I suggest you seek Him out.  You just never know when your time is up on this earth.

Website for views of the wreck that made the news:
http://kfor.com/2014/07/11/traffic-alert-emergency-crews-on-scene-of-rv-accident-on-i-35/

Off-roading Garling Style Part I: His ways are perfect

Seven days ago, we were just north of Oklahoma City on our final stretch of driving home from our annual Trail Ride vacation in North Dakota.  Vern and I had just finished a lively conversation about what we wanted to do to prepare for our trip next year, when all of a sudden my head hit the front dash of the Excursion and I saw the highway black top up way too close to my nose.  We had been hit from behind by something with enough force that it lifted the back wheels of the Excursion into the air.  We had been driving about 65 mph towing our 35 foot bumper pull camper, so when the back wheels of the Excursion reconnected with the road, the whole rig swerved crazily down the highway.  Kids were screaming, I was screaming, the camper would jack knife into my peripheral vision with great detail, and all the while, Vern fighting that wheel and repeating over and over to us "WE ARE GOING TO BE OK!!". 

He doesn't remember saying that over and over.

We both remember when the truck headed for the ditch on I-35 though.  We were headed straight for a T-post in the ground, and I was wondering if that T-post would stop us. And then feeling really silly when we went right through that post as if it were merely a flimsy twig stuck in the ground.

As the front wheels of the truck hit the dirt, the whole rig flipped once end over end.  Even under such conditions, my scientific brain was in overdrive, as I remember wondering what sort of physics insult would cause a SUV plus camper to flip end over end.  And then we were barrel rolling.  Three times.  I remember each one because the truck would land on the driver's side, then we were air born, then the truck would land on my side, then we were air born, and then repeat...and I kept wishing there wouldn't be another cycle of it. I held my breath the whole time during those barrel rolls.

And through it all the kids were screaming, red Oklahoma dirt was flying everywhere and all I could do was grip the arm rest and wait for it to end.

When we came to a stop, the truck had landed on the driver's side.  I looked down, still belted into my seat and all I could see were Vern's legs not moving.  

"Sweet Jesus, don't take my man from me!"I sobbed out loud.

And then Vern's legs started moving and he wiggled out of the truck.  I have lovingly renamed him THE COCKROACH.

Relief overcame me in waves at that point, and my survival mode kicked in as we both scanned the truck for the kids, calling their names.  Matt was already out, Grace was unbuckling, and Isaac was hopping out the back hatch of the totaled truck. 

Desperate to hold my family, I unbuckled my seat belt and shimmied through the hole that used to be my front passenger window and jumped to the ground.  Which in retrospect is funny because I don't shimmy or jump anywhere--not even on a trampoline for fun.

The kids were all crying but standing together between the exhausted truck and the camper now reduced to toothpicks. Vern sat on a red crate near the truck his head gushing blood and his hands all ripped up.  I was torn trying to decide who to go to first--the kids or Vern.  The kids won, but only because I knew my man could take care of himself and the short people needed a parent.

When I got to them, I gathered them into my arms and whispered "Is everyone OK?  Anyone hurt?"  They were all fine, except Matt's right eye had swollen almost shut and Grace had a nasty seat belt burn on her belly.

I barely had time to go into mom mode to calm my little chickens down when they all started crying deep heaves of sobs for Denny, our five year old yellow lab who had been traveling with us.  He was nowhere in sight. Then Vern chimed in also asking where his dog was.  We were all sure he was dead and I dreaded finding his body in the wreckage.  But then someone said that he had taken off up the road, and that the person who caught him was walking him back to us.  They pointed in that direction and sure enough, here comes Denny--not a scratch on him.

And that was the first time that day that I knew I was not going to be able to comprehend the multiple miracles of that wreck.  We were all alive.  And over and over again I whispered to My Lord, "Your ways are perfect.  Your ways are perfect."

He is our praise and He is our God--who has done for us these GREAT and AWESOME works our eyes have seen.  Deuteronomy 10:21

Part II to follow at a later date as this is plenty to absorb for one post.  Let me add though, that if you do not know Jesus as your savior, I suggest you seek Him out.  You just never know when your time is up on this earth.

Website for views of the wreck that made the news:
http://kfor.com/2014/07/11/traffic-alert-emergency-crews-on-scene-of-rv-accident-on-i-35/

When mares get on roller coasters

Well, I had another scan of a different type.  I have had some occasional spotting while on Tamoxifen, and my oncologist didn't like it.  So I had an ultrasound this past Friday to check my uterine lining for cancer.

The three weeks between the time I had seen my oncologist and the scan were pretty brutal for me.  I had stepped onto an emotional roller coaster about the whole thing.  At one point, I cried out to The Lord and asked him why these things keep happening to me.  And as gentle as He could but with perfect clarity, The Lord told me that He would continue to put these things in my life until I become confident that He will always watch over me and protect me.

But to my shame, even that didn't stop me from doubting during those three weeks, and it drove everyone nuts.

I didn't realize how much it drove everyone nuts until last night.

You see, my scan came back fine.  The radiologist came in at the end of my scanning on Friday and did a few more checks after the technician was done, but then told me she didn't see anything unusual for a woman on Tamoxifen. I went home in disbelief, but much calmer in spirit.

And last night, as we finished up a great weekend of unrivaled family time with a swim in a friend's pool, jambalaya for supper, cheesecake for dessert and a good movie with lots of kiddo snuggles I realized that my attitude the three weeks leading up to that scan had not only affected myself, but had affected my family in a negative way.

I had caused anxiousness in their spirits, too.

In his letter to the Colossians (Chapter 3 verses 12 through 15), Paul urges the people to clothe themselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.  If we did that more often, I wonder how it would affect the people around us.

In horse herds, there are two mares that manage the herd.  There is the alpha mare, who is in charge of the safety and daily routine of the herd.  Everyone else in the herd must follow her signals or else she will force them to do so.  There is also the lead (or passive) mare, who is chosen by the herd as the unofficial wise one.  She leads by example (not brute force) and instills a relaxed and content attitude in the herd.  They want to be around her.

So I would have to say that when I am on an emotional roller coaster, I tend to be more like an alpha mare--and although my intentions are still good (safety, daily routine), it really causes tension in my family because I am not clothed in compassion, kindness, and the like.   But when I choose to clothe myself in these things listed in Colossians, I become the lead mare who doesn't cause anxiousness in her herd and instead helps to relax them and find contentment. 

So I encourage you to sit back a moment, all you mares out there.  Sit back and really evaluate how you affect those around you and ask yourself this:  Is this how I would want to imprint my family?  I know there are some really horrible things going on with some of you.  And it's hard to clothe yourselves in compassion, kindness, humility and all that other stuff when you are down.  But you don't want your hooves to get sharper ladies.  You want your muzzles to get softer.  That draws your dear ones nearer to you and in turn, draws all of you closer to The Lord.

My next battle is in August with a 6-month follow up routine mammogram.  Starting today, I am fixing my eyes on The Lord and praying for confidence in His Will for me.  And I will begin my campaign to pray for all of us mares out there that we will nurture those The Lord has given to us.

Yellow Bucket

I cradled that yellow bucket full of crumpled paper and cried.  I hadn't wanted to see it so full.  I was hoping for a bucket that had maybe a few wadded up pieces in it, and that the green one would be overflowing.

But that was not reality.

We had done an exercise in 5/6 GLOW where I had given each kid a piece of paper.  I told them the piece of paper represented all the time they spend in a day thinking.  And to ask themselves how much of their time they spend worrying, and how much time they spend thinking about other things.

I illustrated with my piece of paper.

I told the kids that I wish I could say that there is just one little corner of my paper that I would rip off that would represent how much of my thinking time is spent worrying.  But the truth is, before I had cancer, I spent most of my thinking time worrying about stuff.

Then I crumpled up the big piece of paper representing worry and threw it into the yellow bucket.

And I crumpled up the little piece of paper representing everything else and threw it into the green bucket.

I asked them to rip their piece of paper in proportion to how much of their thoughts are spent on worrying, and how much of their thoughts are spent on everything else, and to place them in the respective buckets.  Green for everything else, yellow for worrying.

Then I waited, holding my breath.  Hoping for something healthier than how I was.

Instead, the yellow bucket was full.  And I cried.

Beloved, God never meant for us to be slaves to worry.  He says so in Matthew Chapter 6 starting at verse 25 plus.  And He has given us the precision tools to help set us free from worry.  Tools that have helped me battle worry effectively.

One.  Write down all the ways He has shown you love in past and have confidence that He will continue to show how much he loves you in your current situation and in your future.  You will be surprised at how long the list is!  I wrote about that a while back (http://nancygarlingtransparent.blogspot.com/2014/02/no-confidence-in-myself.html).

Two.  Keep your eyes on Jesus.  When your focus is on The Lord, it is nearly impossible to be intensely worried about anything.  Prayer is one way, but on tough days, finite times of prayer may not cut it.  That's when I upgrade to communing with The Lord--constant conversation with Him throughout the day.  It brings great relief to me.

Three. Read scripture.  Some of you will remember that my pockets were stuffed with scriptures while I was going through cancer treatments.  My friend Emily put them on a ring of index cards for me now--but I still carry them with me everywhere I go. 

Four.  Listen to songs that are encouraging and talk about what we should do in the storms of life.  Last night we played "I Am" by Crowder, "Overcomer" by Mandisa, "God's Not Dead" by Newboys, "Whom Shall I Fear" by Chris Tomlin, "Praise You in the Storm" by Casting Crowns and "Smile" by Kirk Franklin.  These are ones I leaned on during my cancer treatments, and the kids were crazy about them. 

I wish I could tell you that I don't worry anymore.  But this is me being transparent with you.  I still battle the tendency to worry.  Particularly before the next mammogram or doctor's appointment.  It's exhausting!

But The Lord loves me with perfect tenderness even then.  And that's an encouraging thought. 

And sharing that with a room full of 5th and 6th graders was my calling last night.  Because those kiddos worry.  I know that not just from the full yellow bucket, but because they were absolutely silent while I talked about the tools to help you battle worrying and the number of kids who came up to me afterwards and asked me how they can find scriptures like the ones I have on my index cards.

I once asked my mom why she thought I struggle with worry so much.  She told me that God made me that way.  I started to protest when she said that because it hurt and it made me feel yucky about myself.  But she stopped me and added, "Baby, you were made that way so that you could encourage others who battle worry that they don't have to live like that."

So tonight, during our family time, we are not going to read Keys for Kids.  We are going to talk about worrying.  Because I need my kiddos to know they don't have to be slaves to worry.  There is a better way.  The Lord's Way.  I hope you will go home to your kiddos too and encourage them.

Together we can kick that yellow bucket to the curb.

Tending to the Broken Part 2

I was cutting the pizza when the question came from our foster daughter. 

"Nan, are you going to miss me?"

I put the pizza cutter down, got on my knees in front of her, fighting back tears.

"Baby Girl, I am going to miss you more than you can know.  And even though you aren't going to live with us anymore, we will always and forever love you.  Now come here and sit on my lap so I can hold you one more time."

Within an hour, we were going to witness the third miracle of the week.  But unlike the first two (clean mammogram, no septic system replacement required), this one was going to hurt.

I had been asking The Lord to equip me with plastic lips for this miracle.  Plastic lips?  Oh, you know.  The ability to smile when inside your heart is broken.

Technically, that would have been the fourth miracle.  I am just not a plastic lips person!

"They're here!  They're here!" she squealed with complete delight, flinging open the front door to discover that not only were her parents there, but 3 of her brothers and her 2 sisters too.

Miracle Number Three.  Right there in front of us.

They loaded the truck with the boxes I had carefully packed with all of their stuff, put the car seats back in their place, and then came inside so that I could take a picture of them.

They sat on the couch, our foster daughter on her dad's lap, our foster son on his mom's with all the other kiddos crowded around. 

I knelt down in front of the little girl that I had been a mother to for 5 months. 

"Baby Girl, today is a miracle.  You get to go home with your parents--something we didn't think was possible.  But all things are possible with The Lord.  Remember this day, Honey."

Then they were saying their good byes, their parents telling us "thank you" for taking care of their kiddos all these months, and then they were gone.

And I stood there with Grace clinging to my waist as she sobbed, and Isaac doing the same on the other side.  Matt stood a bit away from me, fighting tears and looking shocked.  And I was overwhelmed with the task at hand--tending to the broken hearted.

But this time, the broken were our own three amazing, cherished children.

And I had no idea what to do.  Because I was heart broken myself.

And that's when the leader of our house--my tender husband--did something so perfect it was absolutely breathtaking.  He sat us all down on the couch where moments before a family had been reunited, and he spoke words to us that dried our tears and brought us peace.

We had given our hearts to two little ones who desperately needed a safe place to wait--to wait patiently while The Lord prepared to deliver a miracle.  We taught them about hope.  We taught them about caring for family. We taught them to live life to its fullest even when they feel broken. 

It's impossible to teach such lessons to others without believing in them yourselves.  So I don't think we will be broken for long...I'm smiling this morning, and it's not because God gave me plastic lips.

No Confidence in Myself

Next week is a big week for our household.  I have my follow-up mammogram, the plumbers will decide if we need a new septic system or not, and the courts will decide if our foster kids go back home or stay with us.

To be honest with you, the Nancy Garling I know wants to hide under her electric blanket and pretend none of it is going to happen.

The Nancy Garling that The Lord wants me to be should spend the weekend enjoying life and loving on those He has blessed me with for this season.

So.  How do I choose to be the Nancy Garling that the Lord wants me to be (rather than choose to be buried under my electric blanket)?

I am certain someone out there is dealing with the same choice today.  Perhaps your circumstances are more sobering than mine, more complicated, more painful.  Whatever your circumstances are, hear me when I tell you that Satan relishes in seeing you bury yourself under that electric blanket too.  That should make you mad.  Because The Creator never meant for us to live in fear.

When I was in a particularly bad season of my life, my cousin Susie told me that she couldn't wait to see what The Lord was going to do through that circumstance.  I thought she was off her rocker thinking like that, and invited her to join me under my electric blanket.

But her words stuck with me, and I began to recall all of the amazing ways that The Lord has moved in my life.  And soon, I peeked out from under that blanket.

You see, I think the key to deciding how you are going to live in the face of trials starts with one simple word.

CONFIDENCE.

Not in yourself--no!  Confidence in what The Lord will do in your life.  Because He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion (Philippians 1:6).

So get your paper and pen.  If you can't drag yourself out from under your electric blanket to get them, call on someone to help you get those items and start writing down all of the ways that The Lord has moved in your life.  Ask Him to remind you of those times.  Get others in your inner circle to remind you of other times that you can't recall.  Write them down and put them in your pockets.  They are your history with The Lord and will see you through those times when you are tempted to hide under your electric blanket.

So if you are wondering, I am choosing to be a biscuit this weekend and soak up all the joy The Lord has blessed me with today.  

Because I am CONFIDENT in HIM.

The Cling of Cancer

Our foster son just turned three years old, and he does this really cute thing.  Whenever he sees me--and I mean whenever--he runs up to me crying "NAN!!" and hugs my thigh like it is his absolutely favorite thing in the world. 

It cracks me up.

But some things that cling do not make me smile.

Like cancer.

Ever since I went on Tamoxifen, I have had lower back pain.  Many women do.  Mine is focused on my right SI joint in my hip and only massive doses of Alleve fix it.  I'm sure the large amount of time I spend sitting doesn't help at all.  So, I go to see a Physical Therapist here at UT Southwestern.

Who proceeds to tell me that she wants to do an MRI to make sure I don't have cancer again that has now settled in my hip.

Seriously?  Not even my oncologist thinks that.

And I realize that for the rest of my life, any health event that occurs to me these doctors will wonder if it's cancer again.

It's the cling of cancer.

But there is something in my life that sticks to me much stronger than that.

Jesus.

He is quite clear about that in Genesis 28:15 when he says, "I am with you and will watch over you wherever you go". 

I need to be reminded of that.  Particularly as my next mammogram is set for February 13th.  Will I focus on the cling of cancer, or will I focus on the everlasting presence of My King? 

I'm working on it with The One who is Faithful and True (Revelation 19:11).  Because when I focus on HIM, there is no cling of cancer.  There is only peace.