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My birthday...but a wish for you

Some of you have asked about my mom from time to time, and since our story is very public, I like to share occasionally. Stopped by Mom's apartment in the assisted living facility she lives at these days to drop off a few necessities for her. Her apartment continues to remain spacious and sparsely decorated. She spends most of her time in her room, watching TV and tatting or reading. She's given up many other crafts and social activities. I think dementia,  caused by her bipolar disorder, makes social activities hard for her. She can't maintain her focus on so many different people in large groups. She's aware that her memory is going. But dementia means that she forgets things. Like her only child's birthday. Or, it means that she remembers calling me two years ago on my birthday, and well, that is the same as calling me on my birthday this year in her mind. So my birthday came and went unnoticed by Mom. Or so I thought. Tonight, she handed me a neatly wrap

Did I Miss It?

It's been a tough week. You know, one of those weeks where you know you have nothing to offer it, to solve the problems it holds, and you're extremely grateful to have Abba to listen to your prayers, hear, and respond. As I was pressing into Abba Daddy this morning, I was reminded of one of the most beautiful relationship experiences I've ever had. It wasn't with my husband or kids; it wasn't even directly with God (though He was definitely there). It was during a moment of corporate praise and worship. I had my arms lifted high to heaven, praising God and giving Him glory. My heart posture and the Spirit's leading was to keep my arms raised, worshipping and giving back to God all the praise, glory, honor and worship that God deserves. But my arms were simply weak and tired. My spirit was willing, but my arms--not so much. They were screaming at me in pain! There was this moment when I knew my arms couldn't stay up another moment physically, but spirit

Five Reasons Why I Didn't Take My Life

September is National Suicide Prevention Month. As the month draws to a close, it's my prayer that we not forget the people around us who are silently struggling to justify doing another hard day. May every day be a day where those who have found the strength to do another day find the courage to share their stories. Each one matters. In the midst of a season where it felt like everything that mattered to me--dreams, identity, health--was being ripped from me, I found myself staring into a very deep chasm. Instead of hope, I felt violently overwhelmed. My pain appeared to be spilling over and affecting those I love the most.   Ending this now would save them the burden I'd become, the voice said to me. I could do this. I could keep plodding away through the quicksand. I could keep taking the slow, hard breaths. You could let some of the pain go if you... No. I could not entertain those thoughts.