Infertility

My Peach

I had a peach growing inside of me. Not a little peach, but a ripe, juicy peach measuring at eight centimeters. Like any fruit in its prime, my peach needed to be harvested before it became hazardous to the rest of my orchard. Heaven forbid it should turn rancid, or – worse! – grow so big as to break off a limb!

“There is only one thing to do,” my orchard keeper said. “We need to schedule a peachectomy.”

Okay.

“And, who knows? Maybe, we’ll find some weeds to pull or some dead branches to trim. If not, we can at least test the soil’s acidity before next spring.”

“Peachy,” was all I could say.

However, I felt anything but. A peachectomy, you see, has never been on my bucket list, and I have always lived in hopes that my tree, fruitful or not, would never ever have to be axed or chainsaw massacred. Still, my orchard keeper is the best, so there was nothing left for me to do but to take her advice and to trust in the Lord of the Harvest.

Right around this time I received a package in the mail from a friend. It was wrapped in white paper, and next to my name on the top was a cut-out of an orange-yellow piece of fruit. I started laughing before I even opened the package, and I kept laughing as I pulled out an assortment of peachy-rific gifts: peaches and cream oatmeal, peach tea, peach lip gloss, you name it. “Here’s your ‘Life’s a Peach’ survival kit,” my friend wrote. “You weren’t trying to have surgery without one, right?”

Praise be to God, my peach was successfully harvested, pesky weeds were pulled, and my soil’s acidity was determined fine and dandy. I find myself daily offering up prayers of thanks to God for such a wise and talented orchard keeper and for such loving, thoughtful, hilarious friends who never let a sister in Christ feel alone in her suffering. (Thank you, Rebekah!) Life really is a peach.

Jump Squats

Everyone has a coping mechanism. Some bake brownies for personal consumption, others escape reality through episodes of Downton Abbey, and others still sew and stitch and glue and prune and create to their hearts’ content.

My coping mechanism? Training for the next big race.

So, you can imagine my feeling of panic when my doctor told me last August that I had to immediately cease all impact exercise. No road races. No triathlons. No nothing. That was six months ago, and I am still staring at four more weeks on the calendar before I can hit the pavement running again.

Sometimes, the temptation to despair is overwhelming. We already lose so much in our barrenness – our family line, our health, our societal pride, our Mother’s Day carnations – that the thought of losing one more thing, especially that thing which brings us the most temporal comfort, threatens to break us.

But losing it won’t break you. The things that we lose in this life are not the things that last, and they most certainly are not the things that save us from despair. Abandoning my sneakers has only reassured me of this truth: Neither death nor life nor things present nor things to come nor lost endorphins will separate me from the love of Christ. His gifts of forgiveness, life, and salvation do last, and they most certainly do save me from despair. They are even readily available to me today in His Word and in His Body and Blood, filling me with comfort when my coping mechanism can’t.

Still, I am really looking forward to doing jump squats again.

Surgery Survival Kit

Laparoscopies. Laparotomies. Myomectomies. Hysterectomies. Sometimes, surgeries come hand-in-hand with barrenness, so we decided to create a Surgery Survival Kit for all of you. Here is the best (and worst) of what we have learned from our own experiences under the knife:

1. Do whatever your doctor tells you to do, both pre and post-surgery. Ignore everything else on this list if your doctor does not approve. (Sincerely, your HRTB Hosts)

2. Um, don’t even try to get through this ordeal without a stash of dark chocolate on hand. (Katie)

3. See if you can get your post-surgery prescriptions at your pre-op appointment. It is nice to have those meds ordered, picked-up, ready to go, and waiting for you when you get home. (Katie)

4. While you’re at the pharmacy, go ahead and stock up on MiraLAX or some kind of stool softener. Constipation is a common side effect of pain killers. (Katie and Jen)

5. Following a laparoscopy, you are most likely going to have gas pain in your shoulders (No kidding!), and it can cause you more discomfort post surgery than your actual incisions. The gas is leftover carbon dioxide from all that was pumped into your abdomen during the procedure. It can take up to 48 hours for your body to reabsorb the gas, so I recommend stocking up on some Gas X (Jen swears by the strips!) and having a heating pad within reach. (Katie)

6. Buy some good pads. The hospital may send you home with a few, but buy ones you like.  Bleeding is common after whateverectomies, and the last thing you want to do on the way home from surgery is stop somewhere to buy pads. (Jen)

7. Make sure your pastor knows the date, time, and location of your surgery, so that he can be there to read Psalms to you and pray with you while you wait. Don’t be embarrassed to tell him. I promise you, it’s worth it. (Katie)

8. Wear low-rise, loose-fitting, comfy pants to your surgery, as well as slip-on shoes. Your incision(s) will thank you later. (Katie)

9. Leave a pillow in your car. Trust me, you want something in between you and the seatbelt on your way home from the hospital. (Rebecca and Katie)

10. Are you a singer? Make sure your anesthesiologist knows. You can tell him/her when he calls you the night before your surgery. It doesn’t hurt to remind your anesthesiologist to look out for your vocal folds during intubation. (Katie)

11. Pack a bag for the hospital. You may be going in with the intention of having outpatient surgery, but you never know – especially if it is a diagnostic surgery – whether or not it will turn into an overnight stay. Must-have items on your packing list: toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, hair rubbers bands, pajamas, prescription meds, a good book, your glasses case, and someone to take you home. (Jen and Katie)

12. Invite someone to stay with you for a few days (or longer). It can be very difficult to manage on your own when you are on bed rest, doped up on pain meds, legally unable to drive, and on doctor’s orders not to lift anything over ten pounds. (Jen)

13. I remember seeing a cat scampering around the post-op room as I was coming to. If you see similar sights that just shouldn’t be there you are probably halucinating and need to close those eyes again to get more sleep. Or else you just chose the wrong hospital. I’m pretty sure my cat didn’t really exist. (Rebecca)

14. I found it incredibly helpful to have an audio book available to listen to after my last surgery. Since I had to spend the night, and since it’s very difficult to sleep with those stupid leg compression tights on and the accompanying LOUD compression machine, it was nice to be able to turn something on in the middle of the night when I was wide awake. It was also nice to have it post-surgery at home when I just didn’t feel like focusing on the pages of a book, or I was too tired to keep my eyes open and watch a movie but my body wouldn’t let me sleep. (Rebecca)

15. Bending straws are your friends, especially on those days when sitting up is difficult. (Jen)

16. Ginger Ale tastes so much better than water when you are groggy and nauseous from the anesthesia. Mom’s chicken and quinoa soup is also a must. And some salty crackers. And some watermelon. And some bing cherries. And…zzzzzzzzz. (Katie)

17. Everyone reacts to anesthesia differently, so be prepared for some side effects. Headaches are normal, though not fun. Have that heating pad ready! The pain medication doesn’t necessarily take those headaches away. (Rebecca)

18. Have a recliner or some kind of armchair available for sleeping in the first night at home. Another option is to have multiple pillows on hand to prop yourself up in bed. Be prepared to sleep on your back for awhile. It can be painful to turn onto your side. (Kristi, Rebecca, Jen, and Katie)

19. If your bed is high, consider getting some type of stool. It can be difficult getting in and out of bed when your abs are toast. (Jen)

20. Along the same lines, consider investing (around $50) in a raised toilet seat. Getting up and down from a low seat can be really painful and difficult for the first week or so, especially if you have had a myomectomy. (Jen)

21. Don’t be afraid if you feel some numbness above your incision. This can happen due to nerves being cut. It can take awhile to get some feeling back. Call your doctor if you are concerned. (Jen)

22. Start walking as soon as your doctor says it’s okay and you feel up to it. It helps get your digestive system moving again. (Jen)

23. Listen to your body as you recover. Sometimes at the beginning of the day you may feel great and make plans for a fuller day. But if your body gives out after a few hours, stop everything and rest. Don’t plan to bounce back immediately, no matter what you’ve heard from other people’s experiences. The last thing you want is a business trip scheduled for the week after surgery. So, be gentle with yourself. You’ve come through surgery, and the body is tender. It will take time to heal, so don’t push it. (Rebecca and Kristi)

24. Indulge in some light shopping. Every girl needs a new pair of sexy granny panties to cover up her incision. (Jen)

25. Be at peace in the knowledge that you are God’s own child, and He preserves and sustains your life. He perfectly loves you in Jesus. Whatever happens, it’s okay. (The Bible)

P.S. These suggestions are lovingly brought to you by Jen, Rebecca, Kristi, and Katie. Happy Healing!

Pep Talk

It’s not a pep talk we give ourselves. It’s not a mantra we repeatedly say in meditation to achieve some kind of inner peace. It’s not a pop psychology trick we employ to convince ourselves that everything is really okay when it isn’t.

It’s simply the truth.

It’s the reality of life in Christ.

It’s the life-giving Word to which our faith responds in feast or famine, in clear water or hurricane, in fruitfulness or barrenness.

So, baptized child of God, let me say it to you again: All things work together for your good.

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God. For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be set free from its bondage to corruption and obtain the freedom of the glory of the children of God. For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died – more than that, who was raised – who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written,

‘For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.’

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:18-39; ESV)

The Enlightenment

In Dr. Martin Luther’s Small Catechism he reminds the Christian that one of the jobs of the Holy Spirit is to “enlighten me with His gifts,” and this enlightenment so often occurs when we are hearing the Spirit-filled words of Holy Scripture. Have you ever had that experience? Perhaps you’ve read the passage a hundred times before but suddenly you get it.  It happened to me in church this week. The words hit my ears and penetrated my soul. The sanctuary filled with a bright light while angels sang and harps strummed to a great crescendo. Well, ok, maybe that part was just going on in my head. But the “aha!” moment was so profound that I almost felt like interrupting the service just to ask everyone if they had truly grasped the magnitude of the holy words we had just sung.

“For the LORD God is a sun and shield; the LORD bestows favor and honor. No good thing does He withhold from those who walk uprightly.” Psalm 84:11

For a few seconds I wrestled with the “from those who walk uprightly” part. Does this passage really apply to me? I know how deep sin dwells within me. I cannot stand uprightly before God and face Him like I am. But wait–because I have put on Christ in my baptism, doesn’t our Heavenly Father see Christ when He looks at me? Do not the words of absolution I just received remind me that I am forgiven and righteous before God? And do not the righteous walk “uprightly”? YES! This is meant for me!

And then the key words of the passage were finally able to seep into the still empty crevices of my heart, like a soothing ointment that provides instant relief from pain. No good thing does He withhold. It finally occurred to me: God’s not holding out on me.

I hear the cry of a newborn infant in a store and I think, “Oh, what a blessed sound! How good it would be to hear that sound in my own home.” But it wouldn’t be good. Not now. Because if it would be truly good for me then I would already have it.

I hear of young single women who have just discovered that they are pregnant and I think, “Wouldn’t our family be best for this child? Doesn’t the girl realize how much better of a life this baby would have with two parents instead of one?” But over and over God has clearly indicated that it would not be good for those children to be ours. And God wants the highest good for us and for these children.

No good thing does He withhold. This means that right now, in this time and this place, I have all good things from my Lord and Savior. Whatever I feel that I lack is, according to Him, not a good thing for me. He is withholding only those things that are harmful to my body or my soul . He is, as the Psalm also says, my sun, lighting my path to my heavenly home through the promises of His Holy Word so that I do not stumble along the way. He is my shield, protecting me from all things which might lead me to trust in something other than His grace and mercy alone. He is also protecting me from myself and the ramifications of my sinful and selfish desires by covering me with His blood.

He’s not holding out on me. This realization is so freeing, so comforting. Even though we know better we can sometimes still be caught pondering whether our past sins have caused our current heartache. We feel like we’re being punished in some way, like a child whose parent has put his favorite toy up on the shelf because he did not pick up his room when told to do so. But God is not holding out on us. The baby we so desire is not waiting out there somewhere until we can get our acts together, figure out what sin we haven’t confessed, or guess at what God wants us to do next. He is giving all good things to us now–this moment, this day, this week. Alleluia! Let those angels keep on singing! I wish you could hear them, too.

Poked and Pampered

There is a certain amount of vulnerability a girl feels as she lies on a hospital bed under the fluorescent lights, her thin, cotton gown a little more breezy than she would prefer. Adrenaline surges through her veins every few minutes as pre-op nurses poke and prod and swipe and press and wrap and prepare and pamper. Each touch is gentle and every smile is sincere, but the nurses’ attempts to make a girl feel comfortable only serve to remind her of just how uncomfortable she is about to be.

And what they are going to do to her body.

And how long it is going to take for her flesh to heal.

And what the doctor is going to tell her afterwards.

The thought of it all steals the strength from her bones, the very breath from her lungs. But, then, the voice of her pastor, her faithful shepherd sitting bedside, cuts through the beeps and swishes of machines, through the white noise of her fear:

“For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence,
for my hope is from him.
He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.
On God rests my salvation and my glory;
my mighty rock, my refuge is God.

Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your heart before him;
God is a refuge for us. Selah

Those of low estate are but a breath;
those of high estate are a delusion;
in the balances they go up;
they are together lighter than a breath.
Put no trust in extortion;
set no vain hopes on robbery;
if riches increase, set not your heart on them.

Once God has spoken;
twice have I heard this:
that power belongs to God…”*

And the girl is reminded that she does not have to be strong. She only needs to be His.

(*Psalm 62:5-11, ESV)

Thank You, M

Today is Life Sunday. Today, we remember the estimated 54 million Americans who have died from legalized abortion. Today, we also remember and thank God for the brave, selfless M’s out there.

Thank you, Sandra, for sharing your M’s story with us:

M is probably the bravest woman I know. She has done something I know, without a doubt, I could not do. She gave me her child.

She was twenty-two and already a single mother of an 18-month-old daughter. The result of poor judgment, she readily admitted. And then she did it again. She wasn’t even dating the guy, just a hook-up.

He wasn’t going to be any help, he barely knew her. She knew what this was going to be like, she’d already been there, done that, and had the spat-up-on, peed-and-pooed-on T-shirt that goes along with it. An abortion was the simplest solution. Lots of women get them, multiple times. Just get it over with and move on with your life.

At the clinic, they did an ultrasound to see how far along she was. I guess it was to figure out which type of procedure to do. I don’t know if she watched. But after that first part was over, she realized she just couldn’t do it.

She got up off the table and walked out of the clinic. She had NO IDEA what she was going to do now, but she knew one thing she wasn’t going to do. On the way back home, she saw a billboard placed by a pro-life organization. On it was a firefighter who rescued dozens of people from the Twin Towers on 9/11 – thanking her birthmother for choosing life and placing her for adoption. Because of that decision decades earlier, many other lives were saved.

That was it. Adoption. But how? That’s just not what you DO as a young, pregnant, black woman. You take care of your own. You don’t give them away. Or you just don’t have them.

Knowing her family and friends would try to talk her out of the decision, she told them she had taken a job in a far-away city. She made excuses why she couldn’t come home for holidays. In reality, she moved 15 minutes across town with her young daughter to a pregnant women’s home run by an adoption agency. She essentially went into hiding for the better part of nine months. She was sticking to this decision and no one was going to change her mind.

She got to pick the people who would raise her baby. The family she picked was great – so loving and happy. Everything was going as planned. Right up until month 8, when the wonderful adoptive mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. Surgery and chemo would have to begin as soon as possible. There was no way she could take care of a newborn and go through treatment and recovery. They had to back out.

Just a few weeks to go and everything had just fallen apart. But no. M was presented with a few other potential adoptive families. After meeting us in person, she made her decision. She chose us. She chose me to replace herself in her baby’s life.

It was easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of baby preparations, giving notice at work, etc. We had just finished our homestudy a couple of weeks earlier. To be placed so quickly was just unheard-of. People asked me if I was worried she’d change her mind. No. That was something I have never worried about. Not once. Not for even a moment.

She called a week after we had gotten home from meeting her, 6 days actually. She was in labor and on her way to the hospital. We quickly packed and hopped in the car and hadn’t even made it from Minneapolis to the Iowa border when she called to say that she had given birth to a healthy baby boy.

The hospital, very thoughtfully, had moved her to a general surgery floor rather than the maternity one, and had even given her a private room. She walked us down to the nursery, and the nurses brought the three of us to a family waiting room. Another nurse wheeled in the bassinet holding the tiny boy. M walked over and picked him up.

And then she handed him to me.

M had gotten pregnant so easily. Twice! I had been through every humiliating test and procedure, being poked and prodded six ways to Sunday. Repeatedly. I took pills, gave myself shots, barely knowing from day to day which way was up from all the hormones coursing through my system. All in the futile attempt to accomplish what she did without even trying, even while trying NOT to.

It’s easy to say, “I’d never have an abortion,” when you’ve never faced an unplanned, unprepared-for, unwed, unsupported pregnancy. And maybe the decision to at least not have an abortion would be an easy one to make. I wouldn’t know.

I do know, that even now, if I should happen to suffer from a serious lapse in judgment and miraculously become pregnant as a result, I would not be able to give that baby to another family to raise. I would not be able to do what M has done.

She not only chose life for her baby, but she chose what she hoped would be a better life for him than one she could provide. She gave him life, knowing she wouldn’t be the one he spent that life with. And that makes her the bravest, most admirable woman I know.

Sandra Ostapowich

Auntology

auntology [an-tol–uh-jee] noun. 1. The science of being the sister of one’s father or mother, the wife of one’s uncle, or an older woman who is respected by but not necessarily related to the speaker. 2. The sum or characteristics of the mental states and processes of an aunt.

The system of auntology is difficult to explain, but aunts around the world clearly understand and universally practice this science upon the arrival of nieces, nephews, godchildren, and children of dear friends. Perhaps auntology can best be defined by listing a few of the classic tenets and principles that are upheld by its most devoted students:

1. Arms were made for snuggles and hugs.

2. Always wear clothing suitable for bending, jumping, running, climbing, spinning, sword fighting, skipping, shooting, and wrestling.

3. Quarters and candy are the best bribes for catechismal memory work. Have plenty on hand at all times.

4. Secrets whispered by nieces and nephews must be taken to the grave.

5. “I wish you were my mommy” really means “Aunts are rockstars!”

6. “Amen” is your special word at every baptism. Say it loudly.

7. No song or dance is too silly for the moment.

8. Narnia books always sound better if read aloud with a British accent.

9. Prayer lists only get bigger, not smaller.

10. Ice cream really does make it better.

11. Silly face pictures. Every. Time.

12. You will climb the tree when no other adult will.

13. Never get out of bed before your nieces and nephews have a chance to wake you.

14. You don’t smell like milk, so help a mother out and take the crying baby.

15. Fight for the right to be Yoda instead of Vader. Being the oldest in the room has to count for something.

16. Your lap will never be big enough.

17. Pretend play is always more fun if you use medical terms.

18. You can do no wrong in the eyes of the child you love, so make sure you do only right.

19. In the inevitable moment that you break #18, be sure to admit you are wrong and apologize.

20. Your nieces and nephews are never too old to hear you say, “I love you.”

And that is auntology. Further questions may be directed to an aunt near you.

Baby Showers and Baptisms

Question submitted: How have you made it through going to baby showers? It’s difficult for me.  My younger sister’s baby shower is coming up, and I am nervous about going because I don’t want to start crying in front of everyone.

A baby shower.  A baby’s baptism.  Meeting a new niece or nephew at the hospital for the first time.  My participation in each of these events is a painful reminder to me of what I lack.  I’m not the guest of honor at a baby shower.  I don’t get to dress my baby in a family heirloom baptismal gown on her special day.  I’m not the one who has recently birthed a child at the hospital.

I never realized how emotional these events were until the baptism of my brother’s first child.  There was no way I was going to shed any tears on that special day.  I thought I could be strong enough to mask my own disappointment.  I wanted to be the parent who was bringing my child to the baptismal font, but I wasn’t going to let anybody see the pain on my face.  I had told myself that this day was about my niece and the special gifts she was being given.  What I didn’t tell myself was that it was okay to grieve as well.

Meeting my niece was precious.  Holding her made me feel special.  The hardest part, though, was when my daughter Joanna got to hold her new cousin.  She swelled with pride and beamed from cheek to cheek.  That’s when I had to fight back the tears.  This picturesque moment should have been for my baby.

I had squelched the urge to cry; I decided that would be the only time I’d weep over the weekend.  I didn’t think the Sunday morning baptism would affect me.  What a lie I’d told myself.  When the congregation began singing the baptismal hymn, the flood gates opened.  I was crying because I hadn’t been gifted a child.  I listened to the hymn and begged God to forgive my selfishness.  As my niece was baptized, I heard the sweet gospel news that she was a forgiven member of the family of Christ.  I was forgiven, too.

The focus of this day was not about my personal desire for a large family, nor about my barren womb.  It was about God’s gift of a child.  In my sinful pride, I had looked at the birth of my niece as a punishing reminder of what I didn’t have.  Once I recalled God’s blessings of a child to my brother and his wife, then I could share in their excitement.  All children are gifts from the Lord, and they should be celebrated.  My niece had become my sister in Christ; that was reason for rejoicing.

Before my niece’s baptism, I told my brother that I might not always appear joyful.  It was not meant to anger or remove myself from the family.  Rather, it was going to be hard because I was mourning my own loss.  He understood and was thankful that I could articulate my feelings to him.  Share your feelings with your sister.  Let her know that you’re nervous about the shower.  You love your sister and want to be part of her special day; tell her that you do rejoice with her.  And if you cry that day, it’s okay.  Your sister will know that it’s hard for you, but she’ll appreciate even more your honesty.

During the shower, you will find yourself comparing your situation to your sister’s; this is normal.  Remind yourself that this is a time of God’s blessing.  Find ways to occupy your mind.  Help write down the gifts; offer to help with refreshments.  These activities will help keep you focused on the blessings God is giving.

Yes, baby showers and baptisms are difficult times.  However, they are also reasons to give thanks to the Lord for His generous love.  Children should be celebrated for what they are – gifts.  While you may not have children of your own, you are God’s child.  You are a gift to your parents and to those who love you.  That’s something to celebrate.

Hawaii

I’ve had many expectant mothers talk to me about the special kinship they feel with the mother of our Lord, especially during the Advent and Christmas seasons: the shared Magnificat upon learning of their pregnancies; the similar joy of telling the good news to their relatives; the pondering of the miraculous in their hearts; the reality of having to labor and birth in unsavory conditions (or opposite to original birth plans); and the joy of holding and naming their children.

I have to admit, I tend to listen to such musings as one might a recounting of a recent vacation to Hawaii. I’ve never been there, but it sounds wonderful. I even hope to go there someday.

But, as much as I admire Mary and want to be like her, it is the shepherds with whom I can most relate, for I am just like them. I am poor and rough around the edges, not expecting much of anything. Yet, God in His mercy reveals His Good News to me – lowly, unworthy me:

“For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.”

Oh, the joy! The blessed, holy noise of that multitude of heavenly hosts singing! My heart almost faints within me.

And, so I run. I run with the shepherds to the manger to see this thing which God has done, and I marvel that it was done for me. Glory to God in the highest, indeed!

I may never get to Hawaii, and that’s okay.