We had our follow-up appointment with Dr. Davidson (the Cornea Specialist) on Monday. The appointment started with the MA doing the eye exam. She was very sweet but it was hard to watch Ameena struggle with the questions about what she could or couldn’t see. I tried to stay calm and remember that it had only been a week and that she does still have 5 stitches in her eye hindering her vision. However, I was not at all encouraged by the time the initial exam was over.
I began to remember a couple of timely details in this story, as if we were being prepared for Ameena’s accident. One was the story our cousins shared with us just two days before our trip back from Michigan as we sat on their porch one balmy evening. I don’t remember the context of our conversation, but they told us about getting one of those phone calls that all parents dread – that your child has been hurt at school and you need to come pick them up…now. Their daughter had been poked in the eye with a stick and would later find that she had a corneal abrasion. “How awful!” I thought. “I can’t even imagine.”
Ameena with her bottle cap patch
The second was on the actual drive home. Ameena called to me from the back of the van to turn and look at her.
She was goofing around with a bottle cap and had put it over her right eye, pretending to be wearing a patch. “Wow,” I thought briefly at the time. “I can’t imagine if she had to always wear a patch like that.”
Then, Dr. Davidson brought me back to the present day when he came in to examine Ameena’s eye. He was very positive and said he is very pleased with how Ameena’s eye looks. We even got to look at it through a side-lens while he did the exam. He said the 5 stitches are holding nicely and he was very proud of her for taking such good care of her eye. The stitches and scar are actually further up on the eye than we originally thought. Instead of coming up from the bottom of the cornea, they actually come down from the top.
He said he is hopeful that, though she will have some scarring, she shouldn’t need any additional surgeries to correct her vision. So, we will hope right along with him. 
We walked to the van instead of waiting on the valet, and we praised Ameena about her exam and how well she had taken care of her eye. She seemed pleased and was happy to hear our praises.
So great, right? Lots to celebrate. We should be relieved. And then, on the drive home, the song “Life is Beautiful” by Vega 4 came on. And that was it for me. The tears started to flow…and flow, and they didn’t stop for almost the whole drive back to pick up the kids. Caleb looked at me early on in the song and said, “It’s like the theme song of our year.”
“Life is beautiful, but it’s complicated.
We barely make it.
We don’t need to understand,
There are miracles, miracles.”
OK. Confession number 1. I have a hard time actually believing there are miracles. Or maybe my struggle is that I don’t believe that I am somehow good enough to qualify for a miracle. Or, maybe I just don’t give enough credit to the little miracles. You know, that maybe there are actually miracles all around me and I just don’t see them for what they are.
Also, I see people pray for miracles all the time, and they don’t always happen. I’m praying for Ameena’s eye to be healed (as are A LOT of other people) but when I have friends who have had to take their baby off of life support, or watch their mother die of horrible cancer, or whose kids live with chronic illnesses and debilitating diseases, how am I to believe that Ameena’s eye sight is somehow more important? There is a lot of really bad crap in our world, and sometimes I have to throw my arms up in the air with confusion and inner conflict.
“When you run away from harm,
Will you run back into my arms,
Like you did when you were young?
Will you come back to me?
I will hold you tightly
When the hurting kicks in.”
And, then I remember God’s promises, his desire to draw us closer to him, and his unending love. As Ameena would say, “Infinity and beyond!” He doesn’t promise that there will be no suffering, in fact, he promises just the opposite. And much of the comfort comes in knowing that no matter how much suffering we have to endure, he stands with us, holds us, and actually has experienced far greater.
And, he’s calling to me, “Will you run back to my arms? Will you come back to me?”
“Life is beautiful, but it’s complicated,
we barely make it.
We don’t need to understand,
There are miracles, miracles.”
That part about not needing to understand…that one gets me. If you know me well, you know that I like to take a situation apart, and analyze it until I understand. It can drive a person crazy. Just ask my husband. In a conflict or relationship, I want to understand the other person, what makes them tick, what their deep hurts and their even deeper longings are. I also want to understand those things about myself and how that impacts others. But many times, I don’t understand and I have to trust and believe that someone greater than me does.
And while we’re at it, I don’t want to “just barely make it,” but reality has been just that in this past year.
“Stand where you are.
We let all these moments pass us by.”
This is one of the things that I am currently learning a lot about in our life situation. The past one and a half years has been financially grueling, and tough in so many other ways. There’s no breathing room and there has been a whole new level of learning how to find contentment and faith, regardless of circumstances. And in many ways, I have been content, strangely comfortable living in the tension. Not needing a whole lot, amazed at how much we already have, and how little we can survive on.
“It’s amazing where I’m standing,
There’s a lot that we can give.
This is ours just for a moment.
There’s a lot that we can give.”
And, so timely were Hugh’s encouraging words on Sunday morning. Our entire community stood to pray for Ameena. Our friends came around us to uphold us and stand in the gap on our behalf. And then, Hugh delivered words that we could rightly agree with, and in a strange way become excited about. He shared Jen’s vision of lying just beneath the surface of water, as if dormant. But, now is the time – “It’s ours just for a moment.” There is an awakening that has begun, and “There is a lot that we can give!”
One of the pictures given in our Potter’s Wheel community is to work on getting the log out of your own eye so that you can see to help others. This concept has always seemed like such a strange one to me. A log? If I found an actual log in my eye, the thought of removing it seems absolutely horrendous. A little like what we’ve experienced with our sweet daughter. But, what has occurred to me over the past few days is that removing the log and being able to see, though it involves pain, actually requires a ton of healing in the process. For Ameena to be able to see, she doesn’t just have to have something removed, her body has to then go on and heal itself. And in this, there is hope. There will always be a scar. But, in that scar, there is remembrance, and reverence.
Ameena is free to go about her normal activities without her eye patch. We’ll still have her wear it at night, and either the patch or sunglasses when she does any sports (though I have to say I’m not quite ready for tree climbing and bike riding). The only thing he said to avoid is the swimming pool due to risk of infection.
Currently the follow-up surgery to remove the stitches is scheduled for 10/21 but we hope to move it up at least a week, which the doctor thinks will be necessary as the stitches may dislodge by then.
I still cry over things like Free Willy, someone else’s child struggling with the first day of kindergarten, watching our church community welcome a new baby and remembering when my children were small enough to tuck in to a sling, close to my chest, where they couldn’t hurt themselves. And, I know this is only just the beginning of letting go.
And I realize - I can keep them tucked away close to me, trying to keep them from getting hurt. But, in trying to protect them from great pain, I would also hinder them from experiencing great joy, that often comes in the journey through that pain.
Ameena on her way to the eye doctor. She's wearing a handmade headband made by our friend Lorrie.
An email to our family on September 9th:
It’s been a ROUGH week. Tuesday and Wednesday were the days that Ameena realized that she wasn’t going to see out of her eye and was VERY sad. “I want to open and see out of BOTH of my eyes!”
The princess stickers help make the patch special
She’s been cranky, demanding, rude, you name it. She’s pretty much been calling all the shots as we have felt so bad for her and also were trying everything, bribes, etc. to get her to take her medication and put the drops in her eyes.
Caleb and I both lost it emotionally yesterday and finally really cried after all that has happened. Things like work projects, clients, and studying have been put on hold and today was the first day that Caleb actually got any real work done since the kids and I were gone for part of the day.
We implemented a timer for the eye drops, and were having to hold Ameena down screaming to get them in. She and I finally had a showdown last night. She wanted to go on a short outing with the rest of the family. We hesitated but she wanted so badly to go so we agreed, but there were some essential things she needed to do to be able to go – wear her patch, put on her shoes, put her drops in her eyes. No, No, NO. So, the rest of the family went in and in the car she and I sat. For 45 minutes. I continued to calmly hold my ground and she cried and held hers. At one point I had to get out of the car and stand by while she cried. We talked a lot about how she wants to be able to see, that she’s in pain, that she’s sad. All, very understandable and I let her vent and process. I also shared that she still needs to find a way to be loving and kind. Finally, she agreed.
With her glasses off for a brief time showing me both eyes open
Today has been better. We let her wear sunglasses instead of the patch for part of the day. She was able to open both eyes for a brief time.
Driving to school to meet Ameena's teacher after having her hair washed and braided.
Since we haven’t been able to wash her hair in the tub, I took her to get her hair washed at the salon and Ivy braided her hair (this was the first time her hair has been washed in over 5 days and it was quite the mess after sleeping in a hospital bed). Today was the first day of our Options school for the year so I took her to her to see her classroom and meet her teachers.
She hasn’t had the narcotic pain med since last night and only had 2 doses of motrin.
We still have screaming battles over drops and attitude (she had a lengthy time out just prior to bedtime), but they are less. Presents are fun, but each time she gets something the other kids don’t get, she has a period of being very demanding and tries to run the show (currently 2 of her toys are in time-out themselves.
This has by far been the most difficult experience of our lives. We’ve had great help from our friend Deb helping us figure out how to manage all of the medications, drops, etc., friends bringing over meals, our Pastor came over and prayed for her, and people like my mom jumping in to watch the kids, or transport one or all of them. It’s been almost impossible to care for the other kiddos. Yesterday, Deb showed up in the doorway with lunch, did the dishes, and played with the kids while I got Haleigh and Ameena down for a nap (while Caleb ran to a short meeting for FreeSpeech). It’s been quite an ordeal for all of us.
Today she told me that her eye is “not as blindy” while she had her glasses off for a few moments and her eye open. But, I didn’t ask her to cover the good eye to really assess. This would actually be fairly pointless until the stitches are out in 4-6 weeks, as they are right in her line of sight.
Overall, today we are encouraged and have had some mini-successes. I just wanted to give you a brief update and ask you to continue to pray with us for healing, patience, and soothing to Ameena’s heart and mind in addition to her eye.
As hard as this all has been, the hardest part is knowing that her tender little heart is just hurting.
She’s in the angry stage of grieving and I know it will pass.
It’s so hard not to be able to just kiss it and make it better.
“I need Thee ev’ry hour,
Most gracious Lord;
No tender voice like Thine
Can peace afford.
I need Thee ev’ry hour,
In joy or pain;
Come quickly and abide,
Or life is vain.”
-Annie S. Hawks
We have a weekly appointment with the cornea specialist until the stitches have been in for 4-6 weeks. Our next appt in on Monday afternoon.
Thanks for praying!
Filed under: Uncategorized
September 8, 2010
Today I am thankful for:
Ophthalmologists
Sunflowers
The prayers of a preacher man
Rootbeer floats
Homemade chicken enchiladas
Leaf bugs
A giggly end to a difficult day
Wonderful friends and family
Four beautiful children
One amazing husband
and
An Almighty God
Sunflowers
Rootbeer Floats
Leaf bugs
September 10, 2010
In all of my explaining, I forgot to tell you how Ameena actually cut her eye. Though no one else actually saw it happen, we were able to imagine and she confirmed. On the way to the hospital I was sitting in the back of the van with her (the other kids were dropped off to our good friends Jarrod and AJ). When I asked her what happened with the knife, she said she was trying to open a bag of cereal. And, then I’m sure you can imagine as I did, that she was tugging on the knife trying to get the bag to open and it popped up and hit her in the eye. No, the knife was not sticking out of her eye when we found her (as was the story we got from one of the residents). No, blood was not gushing everywhere (according to the surgeon, there are actually no blood vessels in the cornea). And, no, we will probably not be getting “Parent of the Year” award.
I made sure to tell Ameena in front of the other kids before we dropped them off, that this was not her fault, that it was just an accident. But, in the future, it is very important that you all use one of the 6 available round-ended scissors, in the drawer that you can reach without climbing on the counter, as opposed to the sharp steak knives. Agreed.
The Wagon Ride
She was amazingly brave on the drive over and the entire time we were in the hospital. We arrived at TCH around 11a and Ameena was thrilled to have a wagon ride into the building. The day was filled with firsts and tons of decisions to make along the way. We were informed around 2p that surgery was scheduled for 3p, but everything runs a little slow on a Sunday. So, we got to watch Tinkerbell while we waited. I started to prepare her in little increments for what was about to take place. There will be a little poke and a tube they put in your arm to give you fluids since you can’t eat or drink. And a little while later, I explained that in order to fix her eye, they would give her medicine to make her sleep. “WHY!? I don’t want to sleep!”
When Ameena got her IV, there was no crying, not even a peep. We went upstairs around 3:30p to the OR waiting room, where we met the surgeon, Dr. Pantcheva, and resident, Dr. Wong, and the anesthesiologist. This is when we heard the most difficult news to that point. The surgeon was very nice and explained the exploratory procedure would take 1-2 hours. Then she said, “Our goal is to close the eye. And, as hard as it is for me to say, we are not focused on her vision today. Today, we are focused on saving her eye. If you ask me, will she see, I can not tell you. We’ll have to wait until after she has healed.”
Coloring with Mallory
We ended up waiting awhile longer and so our visit from Deb and Mallory was perfect. They brought coloring books, puzzles, and books and it really helped pass the remaining time. But, I have to say, after hearing the news above, and seeing my good friend walk into the room, it was all I could do not to break down and sob.
Ameena became very nauseous when they ran the iv antibiotics so they brought in a bed and we got her in her cute little purple gown. Around 4p the team came in to give her medicine to sedate her, as we didn’t want her to panic when they wheeled her away from us. Caleb asked them to give us a minute and we both hugged her and told her how much we love her and that we would be right here waiting when she woke up. I will never forget when they started to wheel her out of the room, and she lifted her little head to turn and make sure we were waiting there for her. I let out one of those mommy gasps and had to cover my mouth so I wouldn’t upset her with the sobbing that ensued once she was out of the room.
Around 4:45p the OR tech called to say that Ameena had been resting comfortably for about 30 minutes, her vitals were stable, and that as she went to sleep they talked about ponies and princesses.
We got a call once an hour for a total of 5 hours. Each one telling us that Ameena’s vitals were stable. On the 4th hour, Caleb asked the tech, “What are they doing in there?!” To which she responded, “Um….surgery?” He said, “OK, just working away.” We both started laughing and he apologized. (We were getting a little punchy at this point.) She said she’d call back in another hour if they weren’t out by then. With each hour that passed without a conclusion, we began to create out own. At one point, Caleb began to entertain the idea of a glass eye! To this I responded by smacking him in the arm.
It was right about this time that my sister-in-law Gretchen sent me a text, and the timing was perfect. She said that she just wanted to remind us that this wasn’t our fault. Things like this happen all the time and she sees them as an ER doc. Parents like us need to be reminded as the long hours of surgery continue on.
And of course, I had a little internal battle going on already.
This could have been avoided……
If only……..
A little after 9p we finally saw our tired (pregnant 
surgeon’s face (who we later learned is named Mina, pronounced just like Ameena). Deb had just returned and my mom and step dad were with us.
She began to explain that they were successful in closing the eye. The difficulty came due to the shape of the cut. Though it was clean, it was not straight. She drew us a picture that looked something like a constellation and explained that each time she put in a stitch, this would cause a gap across from it. Then she would have to put in another stitch to close that gap. So, most of their time was spent playing with the tension. She was very thorough and somewhat positive. They put in 5 stitches and then covered it with glue. Yes, I said GLUE!
Sleepy sweetie after surgery
It was only about 20 minutes before they called us back to see Ameena, as she was stirring. I was so relieved to see her face and thrilled that she was awake (this was one of my biggest fears, that she wouldn’t wake up). She was groggy but knew who we were right away and asked for water. They moved us to a room in no time and we began our night of recovery.
Mom and Richard headed home. Deb stayed and our sister Brigitte came and met us in Ameena’s room. When Caleb had to leave to take our other kiddos home for the night, my girlfriends were so sweet and comforting. They brought snacks and tea, and stayed to chat with me and help me talk to the staff, until 1A! Truly I am blessed.
Sweet Acacia taking such good care of her sister. She screamed when she had to leave Ameena in pain.
Ameena vomited around midnight which is 1 of the main things they didn’t want her to do, as to avoid any more trauma to her eye. So, we had numerous conversations throughout the night about what was causing it and how to keep it from happening again. We finally got her pain management down and she was able to rest more comfortably in the early hours of the morning.
The best big brother eh-ver
The kids were so cute when they came to visit in the morning and Ameena’s heart lifted as soon as they came into the room with flowers and a balloon. Unfortunately, they had to witness Ameena’s trauma when the resident came in to remove her patch and tape for the team to look at her eye. The tape was so sticky that it was very difficult to remove, and it actually caused an additional abrasion on the surface of her eye, which was very painful for Ameena. I had to have my mom take the kids out of the room, and Acacia left in tears when she had to leave her sister’s side. The surgeon said that except for the new abrasion, the stitches all looked good. She put in some eye drops and antibiotic ointment and said that she would fill out the discharge paperwork. This was around 2p.
We spent the next hour trying to get Ameena comfortable. She just kept telling me that she didn’t want to be there and she just wanted to go home. She had finally had enough and didn’t want anyone else touching her. I climbed in bed and held her against me, and she finally fell asleep. So, we decided to stay and asked our nurse (aka Princess Leta, with her beautiful long blonde hair, sweet voice, and the best nurse we’ve ever met) to keep interruptions to a minimum. Around 5p, after quite a debate with the Med team resident over whether or not we were comfortable and capable enough to put eye drops and ointment in our daughter’s eye, we were released to go home without causing anymore trauma for Ameena in the hospital. As things go in the hospital, we finally made it out the door around 6p. She was a completely different kid as soon as we hit the elevators, elated to be on her way home. I imagined her daddy wearing a big S on his shirt as he carried her out of the hospital.
Super Daddy
Filed under: Family Wrestlings
September 8, 2010
In response to those who have asked for the story and in trying to keep everyone updated, I thought I would write Ameena’s story so far.
It was a beautiful Sunday morning (September 5, 2010) and we were all excited about a day to rest, do some projects around the house, and see friends.
I was sitting on the couch, Caleb was resting in bed, and the kids were playing a game on the computer. A little after 8a, I heard Ameena from down the hall saying to her siblings, “I’m going to make Mommy and Daddy breakfast!” Malachi asked if she wanted help and she said that she wanted to do it all by herself. So, I watched her gleefully run to the kitchen without telling me directly what she was up to. This is something Malachi started around her age, so I decided to just sit and wait.
She poured an overflowing bowl of cereal with tons of milk and brought it in to where I was sitting. Then, headed back into the kitchen to start on her daddy’s breakfast. After hearing the coffee grinder and some pounding, I heard a little voice say, “uh oh”…..and then “Mommy? Can you come help me?” I stepped into the kitchen to find another overflowing bowl of cereal soggily waiting for delivery to Caleb and coffee grounds all over the counter and floor. “No worries”, I said. “Let’s just brush them into the coffee maker. He’ll never notice.” She had already poured in the water, I added the coffee grounds, and we pushed the ‘brew’ button (after blowing out a few extra grounds that were keeping it from moving to the ‘on’ position.)
Caleb never uses cream “unless the coffee needs it”. So, I had Acacia grab it out of the fridge, just in case. Haleigh grabbed the sugar, Ameena grabbed the soggy cereal, and I took the coffee to avoid any unfortunate accidents. Off we went to deliver breakfast in bed to sleeping Daddy. Ameena was so proud of herself and delivered her food creations, and full description of her experience in making them, with a big smile on her face.
Then, she hopped off the bed and said that she needed to go work on breakfast for her brother and sisters, and bounded up the stairs. (I later told Ameena that I was so sad that this happened while she was being so sweet to make breakfast for the whole family. And, she never actually got to make her own.)
I stayed to hang out watching Caleb’s first bites of his soggy cereal and “not so bad” coffee. And then was ordered “nigh nigh” by Haleigh and made to lay down on the bed. (She’s kind of bossy in her playtime….we’re still trying to figure out where she gets that from.
Minutes later, we heard Ameena crying and Caleb jumped up from the bed saying, “That doesn’t sound good”. You know, not just the cry you hear when someone is fighting with a sibling or trying to convince someone that they need attention. But, the kind that physically picks you up and moves you. You just know you need to go. But, it wasn’t a cry that said, “Something horrific has happened.” We later wondered if maybe she was in shock.
I met Caleb on the stairs as he was bringing Ameena down and he said, “She says she poked herself with a knife”.
“WHAT!?”
We brought her into our room, turned off the light, and borrowed Malachi’s spy light to try and see what was going on in her eye. We didn’t have it open long when I knew it didn’t look right. The way I described it later to our physician friend was if you cut your finger and there is a flap of skin sticking up, only on her eye. I closed her eye and said, “We have to take her in”.
Now, for those of you who know me, you know it’s got to be serious for these words to come out of my mouth, especially on a Sunday on a holiday weekend, which could mean nothing less than a visit to the ED. I myself, other than when I was born, and 1 other weird kidney-testing incident as a 1 year-old that my mom described as we sat in the hospital late at night, have never been admitted to the hospital. And this is the twin born at home that we’re talking about taking to the hospital.
OK, you get it. So, anyway, I grabbed my phone and headed up the stairs to figure out a plan, trying not to bust into tears. On my way up the stairs, I called our good friend Deb, who is also a family physician and she got to work for us right away (I’ll say more about this later, but I can not tell you how amazing it was to have her in this role).
While we waited, Caleb headed to Walgreens for an eye patch and a little pick-me-up for Ameena. Haleigh picked out a cute singing card, and we all signed it. 
After a few phone calls, we headed to Children’s Hospital in Aurora, where the Emergency Department doc would be waiting for us, and an on-call pediatric Opthamalagist would be available. We have a family member who recently had an eye injury that was treated with a special lens to cover the injury. I imagined Ameena would need the same type of thing and wondered how she was going to handle it all. We arrived to a room half-full of people waiting to be seen. And Ameena’s was the 2nd name to be called (Thanks Deb!).
During one of the many eye exams, one of the doctors compared both of her eyes. It was then that I realized that she would need far more extensive treatment than just a special lens to heal the wound. As we looked at her left eye, it suddenly looked huge and round in comparison to her injured right eye, which was now clearly misshapen–in fact, her pupil was actually oval shaped.
After 3 hours, conversations with 7 people, numerous eye exams, lots of little decisions along the way, and a diagnosis of “corneal laceration with a disrupted globe”, we came to the conclusion that Ameena would need to have surgery on her eye to close the wound.
To be continued…
Filed under: Uncategorized
Recently, on one of our Friday night date nights blessed by our community and “Club Chaos”, we left our precious children in loving hands for a chance to reconnect. As we shared a late night walk around a small pond in Littleton, I began to share my heart and thoughts, old and new, with my beloved. I recounted a memory of when our oldest son was just a few months old. My body was remembering the pain of childbirth and my mind the pain of my past. I remembered Caleb slowly and sweetly introducing love and pleasure in place of that pain. And as a result, the beginning of healing in my heart and soul.
Years later, I am able to see how this picture of intimacy and the pursuit of my husband, is mirrored in the intense love of my Lord. I am starting to see how he, like my husband, is pursing me even through many years. I have feared and ignored my lord, unable to open the dark places in fear of the pain, and missing out on the joy. Though now, I feel a tingling in my soul, a reawakening beginning to occur. But, I lack the faith, I’m not good enough, I can not succeed. And then, a recent reminder of the inability to “muster up faith” – and if only a single small mustard seed could be found…Does this faith come from me or from God?
I lie awake in my bed and am unable to rest as my mind is filled with the distantly familiar desire to pray–for my children, my sleeping husband lying next to me, the fear of my life without them, the lack of my spiritual fervor, my desire to become a midwife, and my calling to surrender and serve my God. To be led and to lead. To serve and to follow. To lay down my pride, to learn and to love. I am pulled from my bed and drawn to my office chair and the bookshelf by lamp light. I open an old NIV devotional bible, a miracle in and of itself. The pages fall open to these words:
“One day as a young wife and mother of thirty-seven years of age, I was busy with my regular household tasks during a bright June morning, in 1872. Suddenly, I became filled with the sense of nearness to the Master, and I began to wonder how anyone could ever live without him, either in joy or pain. Then, the words were ushered into my mind and these thoughts took full possession of me- “I need thee every hour…”
Intrigued and somewhat tickled about the coincidence of this passage, as I am keenly aware of my own 37th year quickly nearing.
I am moved and I recite:
“I need Thee ev’ry hour,
Most gracious Lord;
No tender voice like Thine
Can peace afford.
I need Thee ev’ry hour,
In joy or pain;
Come quickly and abide,
Or life is vain.”
-Annie S. Hawks
I read and pray:
Psalm 86:11-12
“Teach me your way O Lord, and I will walk in your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear your name. I will praise you, O Lord my God with all my heart; I will glorify your name forever.”
It has been years since tears of joy, pain, love, excitement, fear, and deep knowing…and longing have simultaneously filled my eyes and my heart.
Sweet lord, I need thee every hour.
Filed under: Uncategorized
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Filed under: soul care | Tags: Adullam, ask questions, church, church groups, church leaders, churches, communities of grace, deep healing, deep pain, facilitate, fall through the cracks, generational sin, God, God's people, history of abuse, hurting, Journey Companion Ministries, lay leaders, listen, pastors, Potter's Wheel, rich relationships, Searching for God, severe depression, small groups, Son Lux, soul care, souls, struggling marriages, training, Weapons, wounded people
So, as Caleb would say, we experienced a “proverbial butt-kicking” last week. But in an “I haven’t worked out in a long time and just ran a 5-day marathon” sort of way. We attended part II of Potter’s Wheel training and it was an amazing, exhausting, mystical, and cherished time. Searching for God…and finding him in the amazing stories of 9 beautiful people, in 1 room, for 5 days.
Difficult to explain such an intimate, stirring, healing experience. The soundtrack for Caleb and I as we process our week has been a song by Son Lux called “Weapons”: ”Put down all your weapons/let me in through your open wounds.”
It is through our open wounds that we experience deep pain, but it is also the pathway to deep healing, and rich relationships.
Potter’s Wheel and Journey Companion Ministries exist for the purpose of “developing communities of grace that care for the souls of others”. There are so many hurting and wounded people in our immediate community alone – struggling marriages, history of abuse, severe depression, and generational sin. As a people, we have so many issues in our every day lives that we don’t know how to listen, we don’t know how to ask the deeper questions, and as a result, many are falling by the wayside.
God is calling us to facilitate communities of grace where God’s people care for each other in such a deep, healing way that no one will fall through the cracks.
