I count everything as loss........

Part of the new found adventure this summer was in spirit alone, with authentic manifestations in the flesh. One recurring theme in "How to Live Like a King's Kid" was to praise God for everything that happens, knowing by faith, that if it happens to you, it absolutely will be transformed into good all because you're a King's kid. Whether waiting in a hotel with a lost reservation and no vacancy, or car trouble while out of town with a pressing engagement scheduled, or more life threatening events like heart attacks, it simply doesn't matter, for in the life of a child of the King of kings, His purpose immediately takes over circumstance to bring about His kingdom on earth as it is in heaven.



The key to unlocking that purpose......agreeing with His Word, what He says about it all, and begin praising His Name. I realized, for the first time, that I had allowed something to come between me and Jesus, I had stopped looking for the adventure, and subsequently stopped praising Him no matter what the hurt or pain. I've always believed that "All things work together for good to them that love God and are called according to His purpose," but there was a thin line for me that, once identified, brought tremendous freedom and joy.

There seemed to be a time lapse between the pain and the "working together for good" part. That time lapse has caused me grief. It seems to be such waisted time in relationships when hurts keep people apart that otherwise want to be together, or such waisted life when pets die prematurely from accident or neglect, or such a waist of creation and God's original intent when things of value get lost or stolen. The waisted time and senseless loss seem to go totally against what God would have wanted if He had gotten to make the first call on that specific situation. And because of my questioning how it could have gone with Him truly leading the way, I've grieved instead of praised.



So, with the children around the den with me, upon this new revelation, I did more than turn it all over to Him, I began to praise Him; praise Him for the hurt, praise Him for the pain, praise Him for the loss, praise Him that because it happened to me, or I did it, He now gets to do His miraculous wonders and bring things of joy from ashes. Without realizing it, I have been given ample opportunity to practice what I am now preaching. As I look back over the year, I can hardly imagine what is to come!



Philippians 3:8-14 Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ
and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith--
that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death,
that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.
Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own.
Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead,
I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

Detailing the Loss: The Chickens

In June, one of our hens became very broody (meaning she stayed on her eggs for longer than the other hens, sometimes a few days), so we decided to let her have her way to see what would happen. Sure enough, she layed about fourteen eggs up under a brush pile near the front of the property. It took us a couple of days to find her, but when we did, we agreed to let her be. After the given 21 days we began watching intently to see if they would actually hatch. Only 8 hatched, and they were beautiful yellow downy baby chicks!

I wanted to leave her and watch nature take its course, picturing the new momma with her babies bunching up near our back windows scratching the ground and pecking; but when, by afternoon, there were only 6 to be found, we decided to heed Daddy's advice and put them all in the brooder in the barn. They did very well, and the kids played with them daily. One day, we decided to take them out to get some sun, and put them in the coop's pen. The baby's could easily get through the chain length fence, so I assigned Maggie to watch them. When she briefly came up to show me one, another got out of the fence and the cat got it....right there in front of our eyes! By the time we got to him, the baby was dead. Senseless loss. Extremely sad.

The chicks got older, so we took Mama, affectionately name "Broody", out to re-enter life with the rest of the hens, but left the chicks a little while longer to grow and mature, capable of holding their own in the pecking order (which can become vicious at times). But, a raccoon got into the barn, and though he couldn't get the chicks out, apparently he was able to reach them down inside the brooder, and killed all but three. Again, more tears!

Then, in September, several of the kiddos and I were up to see Curtis off to work early one morning, when I decided to go back to bed. The baby wasn't up yet, so I still had some time. I was abruptly interrupted when Milly came running in my room yelling that a coyote had gotten Crook, one of our roosters! I sprang out of bed at 7:48am to witness in broad daylight a huge coyote running through the back 12 acres with that rooster in his mouth! What was so disconcerting was to find out just how far up into our yard he actually came. He chased those birds to within 20 feet of our back door! (Do they go after toddlers???) Crook was our overcomer. He had crooked middle toes on both feet, yet he was the only of the two roosters to sit atop a fence rail and crow. I still don't know how that bird hung on!

The worst of our chicken experiences, though, by far, was the morning a couple of weeks ago, when while looking, with Cyrus in my arms, at the sunrise and beauty of the frigid morning with steam rising off the pond, I saw smoke billowing out of the chicken coop. We had placed a well secured heat lamp up high in the coop to keep the hens laying well. They had gotten down to 4-6 a day, instead of the usual 9-12 a day, with the onset of cooler weather; but with the heat lamp, the kids were bringing in 12-17 eggs a day! The heat lamp had somehow fallen, and the pine shavings were in flames, but the smoke had done the most damage. Curtis bolted out the back door, I screamed for Madison and Curtis to come down, and I took off in my gown and tennis shoes for the barn. Curtis already had the hose on and pulled out dead chicken after dead chicken. He had several on the ground inside the fence, and they were alive, including our last rooster, Rawhide. Curtis was talking to them saying, "Come on Rawhide, get up boy! Come on girls, get up!"

We had nineteen, and lost all but 6 hens and Rawhide. The saddest part was that two of the three baby chicks, now grown, were pets for the children and were coming when called, perching on Pearce's arms. They had also trained "Big Mama", one of the huge hens, to jump up for food about four feet high fluttering her wings. Again....lots of tears. We even lost our Broody.

I had learned, though, to praise.....right in the middle of it all. I was crying, but I kept saying, out there in the cold 39 degrees in my gown, "Praise you, Lord. Praise you for this fire. Praise you for Your purpose. Praise you for these dead hens!" I love these chickens. I have a friend who grew up on a farm, Ellen, that has laughed heartily at my over-the-top affection for these birds, but she was a sweet comfort that morning. Only she had the right to tease me about smoked chicken! Madison came out carrying my coat, Curtis Wade came out ready to help clean up, and Maggie had already put on the water for hot coffee and tea. Devotions that morning were tougher, as we explained to Pearce and the younger ones what had happened, and I challenged the children...all of them in tears... to trust God and praise.

Anyone who owns pets knows very well the joys of having those animals to care for, and the sadness of losing those joys in death. A farm is no different. To have life, you must have death, but Jesus has overcome the grave! And I choose life!

We will order more baby chicks in the spring. That's always so much fun, and this will be our third time around. Besides, the egg business is booming!

(Footnote: In another post, I'll go into the lessons learned from the mother hen. No wonder God included a verse in His Word about her, what a beautiful picture of devotion!)

Detailing the Loss: The Bracelet

Also, in June, I got to take Curtis Wade to his first football agility's training camp in Grapevine. During the hour and a half evening drills, I'd scout out Southlake Town Center with the girls, or go to Joann's Fabric, or if alone, bring a book or magazine I wanted to read.

Well, during one of those outings, my diamond tennis bracelet that Curtis had bought me many Christmas' ago came undone, and fell off! He had purchased that for me before we even owned our own home. He had sense bought me a bagget diamond cross necklace to match it.

I realized when we got home that it was gone. Even though he had to leave for Houston at 4:30am the next morning, Curtis went looking with me until 11:30pm that night at the last places I had gone. I had not yet learned to praise for all things waiting and watching for a miracle. I did pray though, almost embarrassed that it would be such a big deal, and I did hope for a miracle, and cried.

Coming home empty handed, I kissed the older ones goodnight, and poured something to drink (probably hot tea....can't remember) to unwind. Curtis went on to bed, a little sad, too. Then, an unexpected source of comfort walked into the kitchen.

Pearce loves me, yes, I know, but he's a little shy on the affection, and refuses to say, "I love you, too" over the phone before saying, "Goodbye". I tease him about it often, and he just laughs as if he's got something over on me. He came into the kitchen bearing gifts that night, no less than the three kings had for baby Jesus. In one hand was a handmade card that he had been stenciling in the light of a book light in his bed while we all discussed where to look the next day. On it read, "I love you. I love you. I love you so so so much." And in the other hand was a handmade bracelet put together with plastic blue and green beads. He said, "Mom, I'm sorry you lost your bracelet from Daddy, but I don't want you to be sad, so I made this one for you. Now you have a bracelet to wear."

Goodness, gracious, sakes alive!! Never have any diamonds had any more intrinsic value than those little plastic beads! They are jewels worth true eternal value, and they're mine!

I've gotten to tell that story often as I've worn my new jewels. Not only do I wipe tears away, but my listener often does, too. It's brought about an open door to share Jesus with the most unsuspecting individuals. I've teased the kids that my heavenly mansion has a doorway lined with bagget diamonds!

Detailing the loss: The Carpet

Right before Thanksgiving week, we finally had the carpets cleaned before Judith, my mother-in-law, was due for a week long visit. I had waited all year for this momentous occasion because the carpet was getting unbearable! I had gathered the children to the kitchen to keep them off the carpet so that our technician could get underway without 45 kids underfoot, when all of a sudden, a huge buzz shook the house and a flame as tall as Curtis shot out from the den floor! Apparently, the water from the cleaning had seeped down into the floor plug, and caused a short....except the wires didn't short out. It set the carpet and the nearby chair on fire! In less than 10 seconds, we had serious flames! I was ringing out towels to throw onto it, not realizing the magnitude of the situation, but the technician used his equipment to hose it down before we had to evacuate. Whew! Thank the Lord, no one was hurt! But, I was left with a burnt chair and charred carpet in a ring around the plug, and no electricity through an entire unit in the den affecting lamps, the TV, and the sound system.

So, we welcomed Mimi with a new angle to our furniture (so as not to readily see the burnt fabric), and extension cords wiring all but the ceiling fan, for ambiance and mood, until we could have everything repaired. Hilarious! Again, aggravation and needless loss. In this case, though, it really could have been so much worse.

Detailing the loss: Miscarriage

And last, certainly not least, but actually the most painful, and obviously the most valuable jewel of all, a new life. In midsummer, I found out I was expecting again. The girls saw the test before I could get home from football practice to tell everybody! Everybody was sooooooo excited! Curtis was already feeling it in spirit, and was half expecting me to turn up soon. (Who isn't? :) We set out on Labor Day weekend to go birthday shopping for Channing, and enjoy a long date night. But, at Cristina's Mexican Cafe, I realized I had started bleeding. We came straight home, and I stayed in bed for four days while it continued. I had no pain, though, so we called Donna (my midwife), and waited to set a sonogram appointment when offices opened up again on Tuesday.

This was not how I had planned to spend Labor Day weekend and the precious time Curtis had off! It was surprisingly pleasant, though, as the kids took over the house and meals, and intermittently visited with me on the bed. Finally, Tuesday rolled around, and I had prayed to get in to have the sonogram, but they were booked until Wednesday! I was very frustrated at first, but I felt the Lord say, "I heard your prayer, and I said 'No'. You'll go tomorrow. Trust Me and My timing." And so I did. I rested one more day, and by nightfall, I began to feel slightly uncomfortable. By 10:00pm, I began what turned out to be a full fledged miscarriage. I stayed near the bathroom, while Curtis stayed near me. We played Mercy Me videos on the laptop in the meantime, as I cried and worshipped. He prayed over me and the baby for two hours. With concern still remaining that I might be hemorrhaging, or that the baby was still there, but something else was wrong, we continued on to the doctor the next morning. Faithful and true Donna met us there, and the sonogram revealed that all was awash, there was no baby, and I was perfectly fine and healthy. They diagnosed it as a "blighted ovum". The baby never developed to the twelve weeks that I had carried. Basically, we had a fertilized egg that never developed beyond that. The lack of pregnancy symptoms now made sense.

Regardless of what stage a pregnancy makes it, though, there was life. We have another child in heaven to greet us upon His return, or our entrance. If I had gone to the doctor right when it began, I would have had to wait, knowing the baby was dead. I might would have had to make medical decisions, like whether or not to have a DNC. Instead, from beginning to end, I waited and praised Him, and when it was over, it was over. I was free to continue on with life, and do whatever was necessary to heal comfortably.

The saddest time was coming home to tell the children. We all cried. The girls, especially. I went back to my bed, and Milly spent the day with me there, crying off and on. She was so looking forward to holding another baby. We decided to break out the chocolate stash I had hiding in the kitchen, and we watched "The Waltons" together. The overpowering emotion that I experienced, though, came unexpectedly: gratefulness. I know that was Him living through me. It wasn't a natural emotion. I was so entirely grateful to have given birth to nine absolutely perfect children. I couldn't wait to hold Cyrus and nurse him. I didn't have to concern myself with weaning him on a schedule, and I could go on with life in a normal, natural way. Future pregnancies were not affected through this, and past pregnancies were evident and fruitful. This one was for Him, and Him alone. The others, He decided to share with me, and I am eternally grateful.

People always ask us if we're done. I do not understand that. Like I can go in there and work out another pregnancy! Or they comment that they got pregnant while on birth control, so it must have been God. So, am I to assume that because I didn't use birth control, mine are not from God? Yes, I can open my womb, place a baby, form it, design it, etc. I'll just work that out myself. I know they only mean to ask if we are up for receiving yet another baby, but do they realize the power they've inadvertently attributed to man? The Bible clearly states that God opens and closes the womb, that children are a blessing, that they are a reward, and that the man whose house is full of them is blessed. If you're asking, I'm not saying "No!" to all of that! I will say, no, we're not done receiving from the Lord whatever He wants to give, and when my life and body belong to Him, it is all for His glory, the loss and the gain. Whatever He chooses is fine with me, for real. I am blessed! I am so happy and fulfilled, it's overwhelming at times! God is good. Blessed be the Name of the Lord!