Easter in the hospital

With Dad's surgeries and all, he was in the hospital quite a bit. We knew none of these surgeries would save him, but they would simply make less pain for him, or prolong the inevitable.

We spent his last Easter in the hospital. We went outside and did an easter egg hunt with the 3 grandchildren that he had. The only 3 that he would physically on earth be able to enjoy. There was Ashley, who was about 3 at the time. Then Madison, who we called Maddie, was 2, and then there was Dylan, who was just a baby about 5 months old by that time.
I always envied my sisters for what they were able to do with Dad. He was able to walk them down the aisle, and enjoy their babies being born. I, on the other hand, had no choice but to live with my reality, that I would not get those things with Dad here. But nevertheless I tried to enjoy Dad as much as I could, soaking up every moment with him, trying hard to engrave memories in my head, so I will never forget them. It's so hard looking into the eyes of someone you love so dearly, knowing that they will soon not be here with you anymore.

Ever since Dad got sick, I started really thinking about God and Jesus, and how real all of it is. As children, we just believe it so quickly cause that's what we were taught. But it's not till you come to a certain maturity that you start the ponder the reality of the spiritual world. Dad's being sick did that for me. I was realizing that this man that I love and do not want to let go of, will soon be standing in front of the face of God. That he will be dancing with Jesus. He will know things that none of us know here on Earth, cause he will be THERE. In Heaven, on that celestial shore.

I have lived with much fear cause I am one that thinks I'm never good enough. I'm constantly questioning my salvation, not because I haven't prayed the prayer with an honest heart, cause I have, but because of my doubt. I have some John the Baptist in me, and I have doubting Thomas in me. The John the Baptist in me will die by my principles, or His principles, I should say. And the doubting Thomas in me, questions not necessarily God but myself. Am I truly saved? Am I going to be the one that stands on Judgement Day, thinking that I'm in, and HE sends me away, saying, "Depart from me, I never knew you." ?? You would think that with all the energy I waste pondering my own worth, that I would not doubt. I just doubt in a different way, I guess.
I've had to come to the conclusion that;
First off, I do believe there is God, and Jesus is the Son of God, and there's the Holy Spirit, and I anally believe that I shall obey His commandments and try to daily.
I think where I get off track is my heart. My heart is not always so loving. Sometimes it is hard for me to love. And THAT is what makes me feel like I am not good enough. Because as the ever-so-popular verses read in 1 Corinthians 13: "if I do not love I am nothing."
Satan tells me lies.... that I am nothing.....
but he has no power over me. ...... when Jesus died on that cross, for my sins, and then rose again to his new life while defeating death....... my Savior made it so Satan has no power over me.

I need to get over myself, thinking about me, and keep my eyes on my King, for I am His bond servant forever.

First and Final Honeymoon

My dad was famous for his love of storms in our family. When it rained, he'd make sure to be a part of it in someway, whether he be out in his garage working or just simply sitting and listening to the rain fall. He'd have his radio going, listening to any alerts. He made storms fun for all of us, and only if there was no lightning, he would let us run out in the rain and we'd all get soaked. I loved that. Getting soaked by rain is the most funnest thing. We'd get soaked, then come in and change our clothes, and cuddle up in heavy blankets, to get nice and warm. It was a tradition to watch the sky when a storm was coming. This love that he had, completely rubbed off on me. I love rain and storms and gloomy days. They bring a smile to my face and always make me think of him. anyway-
Seattle is known to be notorious for rain. When my mom and dad knew that he was not going to be here for much longer, they crammed in the time to take their honeymoon. They never got a real one, cause there were kids to take care of, and I was born shortly after, then twins, and then life never stopped. Well, they forced life to stop due to Dad's illness, so they went on that honeymoon that they never got to take. Where, you ask? The City of Rain...... Seattle.

When they got there they had to rent a vehicle. The first vehicle that was chosen for them was a convertible with leather seats. Dad hated it, so Mom had to sacrifice her dream car for a normal car with normal material. Then Dad was comfy and happy. It was a well-known thing that Dad hated leather seats, even with furniture, but Mom loved it all, but Mom had to sacrifice it, because Dad couldn't stand it. So they were off...... they went all around Seattle, with many sitting breaks because of Dad's pain in his legs. They saw the famous Space Needle, they rode on a boat, they spent some time at a beach full of Dad's favorite skipping rocks. I had told him to bring me back a shell, but there was no shells in sight. Only skipping rocks and sand. They went through this City of Des Moines, of course Dad got pictures.

I don't know exactly what went on in that trip, but I do know that they salvaged as much as they could of the trip. Trying to breathe in every moment, as Mom probably cried behind many of the scenes. I couldn't imagine being in her place. Knowing you will be a widow very soon, and the man you so much love, will not be with you. Yes, of course, she shall see him again, but as her brother.

For me, that's the hardest thing to think about when you think about dying. I love my husband so much that I would want to be forever one with him. And the thought of not being his wife, but his sister, is, honestly, unnerving. But I have to trust my Creator and Savior, when He says that we will be in paradise with Him.

Back to Mom and Dad: They were ready to come home when it was all over. Did the trip live up to their expectations?? Of course, NOT. IT DID NOT RAIN........ not one drop..... isn't it ironic? ( I love that song) anyway, they came home, however, to thunderstorms and tornado warnings, so much so, that we feared their safe arrival home. They couldn't believe it, that they came home to what they were pursuing elsewhere. That sets things up for a good analogy too.

Expectations in places other than home. Do not go pursuing things of this world when this world is not our home. This world will die. You should be pursuing things of our home, things of the heavenly realm, pursue God and Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit, because in these things we will have our eternal treasure. In these things we will have peace and hope and love, .... the things that truly matter. If you must chase the rain, chase it well. So well that you get yourself ahead of the storm, so you will be prepared for what lies ahead, lest it trample you.



Dad found one little 1/2 in. clam shell and brought it home to me. It was the only one he could find. I treasured that for many years until one day I found it shattered into many pieces. It broke my heart, but just like him, I had to let it go, and not hold onto things I can not keep. That is one of the hardest things about being human.

But as always it continues to rain..... healing my soul with it's cool, fresh water from heaven.

fREe deLIVEry

If there is one thing that I can say Dad did NOT give us, it was our talent in music. :) that would be from my mother's side. BUT, they both, were extremely supportive in that they loved hearing their children's music.

I remember the first moments of Free Delivery. Dad was at the hospital and Noah was fiddling around on my keyboard, finding a talent that he had for rhythm and music. God has given me the gift to sing, so I love to sing and would attempt to write songs growing up but none of them were good enough, of course. But Noah and I wrote a song that night. We all were already in band at school. I played the flute, Noah played trumpet, and Seth was a percussionist. So when Noah and I were making this song, Seth got together different articles, such as Tupperware, due to him not owning an actual drum set, made a drum set. We all three were playing together, making the first fruits of music, the beginning of another chapter of our lives that we would remember for the rest of our lives.
Noah was soon learning to play guitar, so he did not keep playing keyboard, but stayed on guitar for any music that we collaborated. Our first song was entitled, "Believe". It was the foundation of our ministry band, and the reason that we even had the strength to do so. We found it healing to actively share our sufferings with others, to let them know, that there is a God. A God who loves, and gives strength to anyone seeking it. "..... All you have to do..... is believe." ( a line to that song)
Mom and Dad were so proud of us, so they had us perform it for church, and Dad got to see it. Everyone was amazed at our strength, including us. Seth, Noah, and I became very close through all of the working together in our music. We all had talent in different areas, and you put those differences together, and we were unstoppable. Sure we had our quirks now and then, due to the fact that we were brother and sister, but we worked it out. We gained members fairly quickly, filling in the holes. With Bub on lead guitar, who was already so talented. With Jered on the bass, after a temporary bassist before him. And then Devin, the keyboardist, my boyfriend at the time. The picture above has everyone in it. Seth had gotten a real drum set when Mom and Dad realized how serious he was. Seth, too, became one of the best drummers I know.

Playing music, for those boys, was there outlet of expressing themselves in a way as pure as anything. For me, singing was my outlet, being heard because I had a voice that needed to be heard because of our trial. We, together, found an avenue to release a lot of our grief, because in reality, we were already grieving Dad, preparing for his death, not knowing when it would happen. This was our healthy distraction. Keeping our minds focused on the bigger picture. Through our songs we were able to profess our faith, and hopefully, teach anyone willing to listen that no matter where you are in life, no matter what you are going through, God will be watching over you, Jesus will be holding you, and the Spirit will guide you and give you peace.

We didn't have a name at first. I don't even remember what we were looking at for names. But we were riding along in the car, one day. Dad had just had surgery on something, and so he was pretty doped up. We were all talking about names for the band, then Dad started to chuckle. He said, " I just figured out what the band name should be!" he chuckles some more. We, of course, were very eager to hear what he had to say, especially since we would love it if he came up with the name.
"Free Delivery" he said. We all looked at each other, with smiles on our faces. We all talked about how profound that was with the meaning behind it. How Jesus died for us, and now we are free to be delivered, and that the price has been paid. We loved it, so everyone agreed unanimously, to name the band, Free Delivery. We also pointed out the RE LIVE inside it. We thought it was so creative.
We had asked Dad how he had thought of that. He replied, pointing down the road, "Oh...... I just saw it on that Chinese Delivery truck."
That had us all laughing.

Unexpected Tragedy Awaiting

What was around the corner came up out of the blue. We were living our normal lives, and nothing could have prepared us for what we were about to endure. I had no tools in life to help me through what would be the hardest thing I had to go through yet. My life, as I knew it, was going to change. I was a piece of coal unknowingly getting ready to be pressed into a diamond.
This picture of me and Dad with my first band letter was taken my freshman year....several months before the storm broke. I was 15.

I remember this particular Thanksgiving, we went down to Texas to visit my grandparents. Dad started feeling sick that week, and never got better.
I remember not thinking too much about it, but it persisted, giving him pain in his abdomen. He was seen by doctors who could not figure out what was causing the pain. He went 3 months in unsolvable pain. The search ended when the doctor found that his gall bladder was not working properly. Then he prepared for surgery. Us kids went to school, anticipating his relief, from the outcome of this surgery. I remember telling my boyfriend, at the time, that I was worried for some reason. He told me not to worry, but I couldn't shake this feeling of uneasiness about what was going on with my dad. Something didn't add up in my brain.

Our aunt picked us up from school, a little early too, which is always cool for a kid. She took us to the hospital to see Dad. She acted normal, asking us normal, "so how was school?" questions. When we got to the hospital, we came through the main doors, and there, my Uncle Ed, was standing, waiting for us, to show us where our dad was. He smiled at us, but I remember the look in his eyes. They were so sad, like he was fighting back tears. I began to hold my breath, as we followed his slow walk to the elevator going up to Dad's room. The boys still as hyper as ever, but I was quiet, observing every moment of what would be hints towards what was about to happen.

We got to the floor, my sisters were already there, and mom was coming down the hall to hug us, all her welcome hugs she always gives. I could tell she had been crying. My sisters even seemed gloomy. Something was definitely wrong. Mom lead all of us kids into this private family room, to talk to us. I remember feeling a little more suspicious when we did that, thinking why don't we just see dad? She sat us all down, and started talking about how the surgery went well, and the gall bladder issue is fixed. You could tell by her body language that she was nervous to speak with us, but she somehow mustered all her strength to spit it out. The words that were going to change our lives.

"They found something when they were in surgery." She went on about how they had taken the gall bladder out, and went back in to make sure they got it all, and then said it. "They found a tumor in the middle of everything. It's an 8in. by 2 in. tumor and they don't know where it's from. They saw the tumor and got out, so they wouldn't spread anything. We don't know any answers about what kind of tumor it is, we won't know until they do more tests." She opened up the floor for any questions that we had, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to answer some of them, cause she simply did not have the answers. I remember spacing out on the wall......

I had this daydream or nightmare, you could call it. There was a coffin sitting against the wall of my church. It was closed, but I knew it had the body of my father in it. I was walking down the aisle going towards the back, with my hair plastered to my face from tears. All eyes were on me and my family. Everyone dressed in black. It was indeed my Dad's funeral. I could see it.... it felt so real.....

My dream was interrupted by my oldest sister, Angie, coming down on me from above, hugging me and holding me, "Are you alright?" she asked with many tears in her eyes. I don't remember answering her, I just remember everyone crying together. My brothers were in shock and didn't know what to do with themselves. They sat there staring off, just like I was. I don't know what they were thinking.
Mom invited us to see Dad. I was so nervous, seeing the man in my life that was soon going to die. It was awkward, but my dad knew how to break it. We went through his room doors and I saw him laying in his bed, smiling at us. We all took turns hugging him very carefully. I was trying so hard not to cry, I didn't want to cry in front of him. He cracked his little jokes, making us laugh about the situation. The nurse came in, asking questions about his history. Any cancer questions that came up, he would say "Not yet!" in a cheerful voice. We all were shaking our heads, but were so thankful for his attitude. He seemed fearless.

It took another month to track down where the tumor originated. It was his colon. AND his cancer was in stage 4, the last stage. It had spread to his lymph nodes, and other places, that made it an undeniable fatal cancer.
I remember he sat us down when he told us his prognosis. He said, " They say, along with chemo that I have anywhere from 4 months to 2 years left. ... " we all were stunned. It became real to me that he would not make it to my graduation. That he would not be able to walk me down the aisle to my future husband. That he would not be there when I had my babies. All these losses came swimming through my head. Everyone started crying. He sat there in the middle of all of us watching us take the news in.
He sighed a great sigh, and said, " Yeah...... I'm going to go and be perfect in heaven and you guys are going to have to stay down here on this wretched earth."








(Left: the boys were shaving dad in preparation for the possibility of dad losing his hair during chemo) (Right: Me and Dad on the couch soaking in any moment together) (Bottom: Dad lay sick watching his son play and learn guitar for the first time. Noah became a great guitar player as he grew older. Dad was proud and would be proud still.)

Daddy's Little Girl

This picture was taken when I was 12, and my friends and I were playing with an old wedding dress. He was showing me how my husband would hoist me up into his arms when I got married. A moment that will always be close to my heart.

I love my mother, but I was definitely daddy's little girl. Let me explain the relationship between me and my daddy, so you can appreciate the next posts about him.

One of the main things I remember most about him, was his whistling to the oldies. He loved the oldies. He'd tape the oldies from the radio, he loved them so much. We'd be in his old truck that had spray paint on the rust spots, he said it made it look camouflaged like in the army, (mom hated it, but he loved it) and he'd be whistling through his teeth along with the melody of some oldies song. I remember one of his favorite songs was "Turn, Turn, Turn." He believed in that scriptural song, and so the family followed his lead. He was the backbone to all of our faith, growing up. Using everything in every moment to give us a fresh experience that we would never forget.
He would take us kids to the airport, and we'd stand just outside the fences that blocked off the runway, and we'd just watch the planes take off. He'd take me to "Daughter's Go To Work Day" and that would be the highlight of my year. He worked at the Logan Community Center in Des Moines as a maintenance man. He would take me everywhere with him in that building and tell me where kids weren't allowed, but snuck me in with him. We'd eat donuts from the kitchen. Everyone loved my dad at his work. Everyone he came across, would burst out in a cheerful, "Well, hi there, Joe." He'd reply with a "Howdy" or a "Hi there, Mrs. ---- or Mr. ----" We'd go into his cool janitorial office that was often on the louder side cause of the equipment, but I remember his stash of sour strawberry straws.
Every morning he'd grab donuts and a chocolate milk before work. But on weekends, it would always be bacon. He'd be making bacon before anyone got up, so we'd wake up to the smell of bacon and there we would find it, resting on newspaper on the counter top. He loved reading the paper and watching CNN, and listening to Rush Limbaugh. He agreed with almost everything Rush said, but had to chuckle at his conceitedness.
Whenever I was angry and he thought I needed to blow off steam, he'd drive me out the this particular cemetery. I hated cemeteries, cause I hated the thought of all these dead bodies underneath me, but he didn't think that way at all. He found it the most peaceful place. None of our family actually was buried there at that point and still, he'd go there just to savor the peacefulness. I'd be sitting there in the car, asking, "Can we leave this awful place now?" and he'd smile at me, and make me get out, to walk around with him. He'd tell me about all who was family as we passed each headstone. It's like he would study the headstones, to figure out who was who, and who was connected to who. Mom remembers one time, he took her out there in the winter time when it was all covered in snow. He counted his steps in a certain pattern, and then stopped. Brushed off the snow from the ground revealing a headstone that had the name Winter on it. He was a very creative man.
He also had dry humor, as every Ruppert does. God love them all. I truly appreciate dry humor. I've realized it's "melancholic humor" cause it all goes so deep no one else understands it. Yes, I too, am a melancholy. I think that's why dad and I clicked so well. My mother is more of a free-spirit, so dad and I understood each other better.

My dad loved my mom though. If there was anything I could take away from my childhood, it would be that. I could go on and on about the characteristics of my dad, but the love he had for my mother, was the greatest. She had a wild spirit when they met, living a troubled life with her two little girls. They both worked at a nursing home, and he told me the first time he saw her and fell in love with her. He said, he saw her down the hallway, and there was this ugly old woman in a wheelchair. And mom bent down and got in that woman's face and gave her a deep embracing hug and that's when dad knew she was the one he had waited for. He wanted her number, but was too shy to ask for it, but somehow he found out that she needed a table. So he went out and bought a table and came to her, saying that he had a table sitting around the house that he does not need. She was very grateful for his offer. He, of course, needed her number to find out where to deliver that table to. Creative little thing he is. He kept that piece of paper with her number on it for the rest of his days. Their first date was on top of the roof of that nursing home. My mom will never forget it.
My dad grew up a Catholic, and my mom with no religion, really, so they were both saved together during marriage counseling with a Pastor Dewey before they were to marry. They were married on the Chapel on the Hill in Eldora ( beautiful place) with my sisters, Angie(10) and Holly(7) on each of their sides, and me almost done cookin in mom's belly. (oops:) I was born 3 weeks later with a face just like dad's. And then a year and a half later, twin boys were born. Seth and Noah. So there we were... 5 kids, and two parents that loved each other. We were poor, but found joy in the little things.

I remember one time, when mom was sick and the rest of us had to go to church that morning. Dad, with us 3 remaining kids, were riding along, and then after a while, dad says, " I think I took a wrong turn somewhere." All of us kids were panicked cause we were lost. He got out his atlas, and made us figure out where we were, by looking at things like mile markers and streets and towns nearby. We figured out we were close to Marshalltown, which is far from our Des Moines church. :) We didn't go to church that morning, but remembered it forever.

We had a cuddle position that I will never forget the feeling of. He'd sit down in his usual spot on the couch, and I would sit right next to him, right by his side. He'd lift his arm, making way for my knees that would be soon bent over on his lap. Then he'd wrap his arm around my legs, then I would lay my head on his shoulder, with my arms wrapped around his arm.

I love him so much, and I miss him. I wanted to give you a hint of his spirit before I tell you his extraordinary story. He was a promise keeper, and a man of integrity, giving everything his best. Including his death.









My dad took the picture of the car, (click and see what the plate says)

My First Flame (Going Back)

Experiencing death of a loved one is actually probably the best thing for a child.

I do not remember the first time that I asked Jesus into my heart. Yes, Kailan Wing, can not tell you when that first moment was. (see Turning Point for my real found faith) The church I remember growing up in was a Nazarene church. They believed that you could lose your salvation. Everywhere I went, if they offered "The Salvation Prayer" I would do it, knowing that I had already said it, but that I need to say it again. I loved to ask Jesus into my heart. I can't even tell you how many times I have said that prayer. As I grew older into my teen years I came to the realization that once you're saved, you are always saved. That nothing can take you out of His grasp. But still, I can not tell you, when it came to me for the first time, that Jesus died for me, and rose again to save me. Maybe my parents just did an excellent job in breeding us up in the knowledge of Jesus Christ that we never knew different. BUT, what I can tell you is when I, for the first time, felt the Spirit hold me.

I was nine. That puts me in about 4th grade. My family was normal at that point. The oldest sister had moved out of the house not too long before that. The other older sister, still in the house, still trying desperately to be ungrounded for once. My brothers and I making our forts out in our huge backyard, with scrap pieces of brick and wood. Death had not really shaken us yet. We still seemed to be living in our "forever worlds" is what we thought anyway. Well, everyone, except for Mom, who had experienced far more hurtful loses in her own childhood. Nothing blew passed her.
I remember being so shocked at the news, that my cousin had committed suicide. He had shot himself. I remember hearing details like their was gun powder on his toe, supposing he used that to pull the trigger on one of those long rifles, pointing it to his head. And that he had gotten in a fight with his girlfriend. He was eighteen, and his younger brother was the one who found him.
I remember being in disbelief the whole time before the funeral, thinking maybe it was just a joke? At the funeral, I remember staring at his body laying in the coffin. He looked as if he were sleeping, and that he would just wake up at any moment. Soon after seeing him, it finally hit me. He is dead. I began to ponder heaven for real, for the first time. and hell. Where is he? Did he get to heaven, even though he killed himself? It was the first time, I began to think deep about these things.
I cried so hard at night, so hard I couldn't sleep. I began to really miss Aron. I thought about the last thing I remember him by. It was Christmas, and he gave me a Pink Panther flashlight. I tried to find it, but it was gone, just like him. To this day, I've never been able to find it. But that's not the point of my story here.

That night I couldn't go to sleep because of my tears, I did what any child in that predicament would do. I went into my mommy and daddy's bedroom. Mom's side was the closest, so I got in bed with her, after waking her very gently. I told her I couldn't sleep and she, of course, opened her covers to me, slid over to make room, and cuddled me. I kept crying, and she just held me. She started to pray, "Dear Lord Jesus, please just hold Kailan in Your arms and help her to sleep. Calm her spirit Lord and just hold her. In Jesus' Name, Amen."
I closed my eyes, and imagined Jesus holding me as though Mom was holding me. Cradling me like a baby. I felt a calmness and was asleep.... so fast that when my eyes opened again, it was morning and another day.

I will never forget that moment for the rest of my life. Because of Aron's passing, I was able to feel that feeling of loss, the brokenness that can only be felt when something truly horrible has happened. And I was also able to experience that calmness that only God can give, that peace that surpasses all understanding. Only then was I able to truly feel anything spiritual.
I hate that my cousin did what he did, but I still love him. I know that he was forgiven by that sin and that has been my hope for him. I do not know for sure, if he was saved, but I do know that if he was, then he is indeed with our Lord.

I always thought, though, how one could be saved and have the hope of Jesus, and still be suicidal. But I have learned that everyone backslides, and some people's faith are weaker than others. They have just forgotten, that even "faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains. "

Moment of Utter Weakness

The first picture is of Sarah, the second is of Eve. You can see the similarities and the differences. They are the same age here. As 3 months and 10 days approached, I held my breath a little. I was comforted only by the fact that it was slim to none that I would actually lose her on the same day. I used my logic against my anxiety. But being at that 3 months and 10 days point wasn't the hard thing, the hard thing was seeing passed it. All these SIDS parents would say that they would start breathing again once their subsequent babies got passed the age of their lost one. And that's all they would say. I don't recall talking too much about the after math, so I'm not sure I foresaw the issue that would lie ahead.

It was disturbing to me that an older sister would be in fact, younger than her little sister. It's a battle I will always face. I try to dwell on what age she would be, but it's hard not having the experience of her as an older child. So from that day on, with my second daughter, everything was a new experience. Things that I should've had with Sarah, are only with Eve now. It was like it was rubbed in my face all over again, that I indeed lost my first daughter, that she is gone, and she will not return. I began to lose it, when I was living those days passed Sarah, with Eve. I wanted the time to stop, but of course nothing will stop the sun from rising and setting. In the Bible, God made the sun stay up for an extra time period all because a battle had to be won, (if I remember right) so me thinking He would do the same for me all because of my selfish wants, I knew the answer would be no. So in my heart I made the sun stay a little longer by salvaging every moment with Eve at this age. I held her, knowing that Sarah, was this size when I lost her.

Still I couldn't help but fall back into a depression. Satan was attacking me from all angles. I became so foggy with depression that I felt I couldn't fully observe my children's needs or my husband's. I began pushing people away again. I realized that I had been a horrible friend cause I couldn't care what was going on in there life. I have a very prohibitive conscience, so nothing anyone could say could take away my guilt from that thought. I had to fight for my priorities; my husband and my children. I remember calling my Uncle Ed, who is a grief counselor, to talk to him about getting some counseling, cause I was falling fast. He got me hooked up with a counselor. I started talking about my whole life to her. All the death that I have experienced, but all that faith I have as well. I think it more helped me to verbally stand my ground with my faith. Just to say, "I know God is with me. I believe God is here. Jesus has saved me by His blood. " thinking about my faith in all that I have been through, gave me a peace about my situation. I had quit going to her after a few sessions cause anyone who knows me knows I have a hard time sticking with counseling. But I remember the last thing that she told me. She said to me as I was walking out the door, for the last time, "Kailan, I think it's going to be your faith that is going to get you through this. " I replied in agreement and left.

The time passing between the 3 months and 10 days mark till nearing the end of my break down was 3 months. My Evey was getting to be 6 months. She, of course, en light of my depression was still on the apnea monitor. I knew I had to let it go at some point, but I couldn't bring myself to actually doing it. I was trying to take control of Evey's life, and that's not where it belonged.

I was talking to Josh in desperate tears about my craziness, it felt like. I became hypersensitive to everything, and I was driving myself mad. He told me this.... He wanted me to go down to our room, alone, with a sheet of paper, pen, and my Bible. He wanted me to write a list down of people I was still bitter with and people or things that I was not letting God take control of. And then he wanted me to pray about them, and forgive these people, once and for all, and tell God that I give control of those people or things that I had written down. He said if I couldn't think of anyone or anything, to just simply ask God to reveal it to me.
I went down there, sat on my bed and started writing. I filled 2 pages up with people and things. I couldn't believe how much bitterness I had in my heart, and so I started praying about these people, and then I got to the things that I was trying to take control over. I got through my list and stopped at a 2 word object, and I couldn't even say it, not even in a prayer that was between me and God. I cried so hard before I could even look up again. I remember saying, out loud, "BUT I CAN'T!!..... I can't...." I cried long and hard before I continued.. then finally I said it....

"Lord, I give you control...... help me with this apnea monitor..." I had realized then and there, it was like God was showing me something right in front of my face, that I had in fact held this apnea monitor as an idol of protecting my daughter's life. At first it was a mere safety issue and knowing that she was in fact breathing, but it became so much more than that to me. It was like I felt, as soon as I turned it off, she was going to stop breathing or something. As if it were her life-support. Like, it I disconnected it from her, that I would be disconnecting her from life. I didn't even realize I was doing that through all my depression. I finished my prayer by asking God to give me the strength to let go of the apnea monitor.

Now anyone who truly knows me, says I'm a stubborn girl. My Dad would more times, than not, call it strong-willed. He showed me it was a gift. And how to use it? It was taken me many years and will take more years to come. But, I knew what I had to do, and that I had to do it NOW.

It was night time, so 6 month old Eve was sleeping so peacefully. I knew I had to practice first-time obediance and nothing would stop me. So..... I went into her room, I stood over her crib, and pushed those buttons just right to turn that apnea monitor off. There were cords that I had to disconnect, that were attached to her, so I pulled off the first cord, then the second, being careful not to wake her. I put the monitor away from her, and it was like time stood still. I can remember the site of it, to this day. I cried instantly watching my baby breathe with my own eyes. She looked like a normal baby now, with no cords or anything. Just sleeping peacefully as she should. I went upstairs to proclaim my victory to my husband, I told him it was over. He was very surprized at what I had done, but also very proud.

It still took some time to heal from all that experience, just like it will be for the rest of my life, to live without Sarah on this earth, but truly I tell you, the healing can't begin unless you give up all control. You can want to heal all you want, but it won't happen until you obey fully. Submitting all the control to the One whom it belongs to. So if you feel you are not healing like you believe you should, because you are praying and reading and trying to do good. Maybe what you are missing is the first commandment. "I am the Lord, your God. You shall have no other gods before Me. " That first commandment speaks volumes of first-time obediance, giving up control, and just knowing that He indeed, is our Lord and God, whom we serve. And that He is God who is in control no matter what we do, He just desires for us to ride along with Him.

Test Around the Corner

5 day old Eve, was admitted back into the hospital.... for apnea. We went home with the apnea monitor, enlight of Sarah's death. I knew it would help me be more at peace KNOWING that she is indeed breathing and her heart is beating, even when I sleep. It had it's false alarms which we were warned about. We knew it was a false alarm if it only beeped at us about 3 or 4 times and then stopped on it's own, without us having to do anything. But there was one time, where it kept going. I stood over Eve to see if she was still breathing. She was so little, I couldn't tell, but I also panicked a little, so I quickly rubbed her belly to wake her. She took a big breath which turned the monitor off. I didn't like that. So I told the Ped. about it at our appt. that day. She had it downloaded to look at the activity. She called us later that night, telling us to go to the hospital to get her checked out because there was indeed 2 apnea episodes on that monitor. Eve was also jaundice so we were admitted at Blank's with all these monitors on her, and a Bili light.
Eve was so stressed being there, so I knew that the best thing I could do was to be that stress reliever and be as calm as I could. They did all these tests. My poor baby was poked and prodded. The doctors were taking every precautionary because of the fact that we had already lost one. They were wonderful with us, giving us straight facts, even if it was "we don't know" and I was ok with that, to an extent, because I knew, by experience, they were doing all they could. She had some abnormal blood work, which they tried to chase down.
The one good thing about her apnea was her body was keeping up with it. While she wasn't breathing, her heart would stay strong, and that was a good sign that nothing too serious was going on.
I can't express the peace that came over me. Physically, I was exhausted. I just gave birth to this baby a week ago, I had a little bit of stitches. I was still having to take care of myself, in that form. I was going through my engorgement with nursing, which seemed to be a little better than with the last two babies, so I was thankful. My body was on it's last legs.

BUT, emotionally/mentally, I had a peace, I can't explain. Coming 10 months out from losing Sarah, I knew I had no control over anything. I would not be the one to keep Eve here. But I think I heard that still small voice in my heart, saying, "She will be ok.... I'm right here.... I am with you.... do not fear.... she will live.... like you hold your baby, I am holding you.... enjoy her today..."

I remember one of the doctors asking me so sweet, in a careful, loving manner, " Do you know .... that this apnea monitor... will not save her from SIDS? Do you know that?"
I told her, "Yes, I do know that. I know there is nothing that will stop SIDS."
She replied, " Ok, I just wanted to make sure, that you knew that." and she hugged me.

Even though that conversation would've put any mother on edge, I actually felt proud of myself, like I had my head on straight, and I just proved it. I was ready, by the grace of God, to logically think things through. To have that voice of reason inside my head even though I'm a "SIDS Parent" I felt like a normal mom. All because I put things in their place. In God's hands.

After a week in the hospital, we had an option to go home or to stay another week for more observation...... We went home. We took up where we left off, getting to know our new daughter, continuing with our healing of losing Sarah, and allowing our 3 year old son to get used to having another sister in the house.
Once Eve caught up to her 40 week gestation age, her apnea was gone. It was declared premature apnea, for she was a whole month early, and that, I guess is typical. Her abnormal blood work was chased down for the next 8 months, by the Iowa City Hospital, just to finally normalize with age. There were other premature things going on with Eve, like her eyesight and certain muscles in her arms, that eventually, with time, got better. She is a sickly thing, still to this day, but all in all, she IS living. She is here and she is our little Diva, we call her. And we love her for it. She won't let anyone push her around, and she'll be my little artist.

There were moments that week that I had to cry, but that made it all the more beautiful. To cry is not a moment of weakness, it is a window of expressing what is in your heart, being real. And that is always beautiful. I will always have those moments locked away in my heart because of it.

I just had a thought. ..... you think God cries?... He must.... . Even though Eve was going through this stressful time, being poked and prodded and constantly woken up by nurses and doctors just to poke her again. She still found refuge in my calm arms. Only Mom could calm her by simply holding her. Only Mom could nurse her, the best milk. Only Mom knew what she needed when she cried. She could only rely on that one person. I know we are only human, and none of us our perfect moms, but God IS. In only God, can we find true refuge. In only God can we be calmed by his arms. Only God can give us the living water. Only God knows what we need when tears come rolling down our cheeks. Only God. Babies have nothing to do but to submit to their caregivers. They do not get dressed unless we dress them. They do not eat unless we feed them. They do not become clean unless WE clean them. When a little one learns to walk, it is because that special someone has their hands in theirs, and they are leading them.
I love this one song, by Relient K called, "Give Until There's Nothing Left" ... the second verse goes....

" No one told me how bad I need You, but I somehow arrived on that conclusion all by myself. And I want all You have to offer, so I'll offer myself and I'll just give until there's nothing left."

Faith Like A Child

See that smile on his face as he stands near his sister's grave? His reality is only that she is in Heaven. She is perfect and happy. Yes, we miss her but ultimately she is where we want to be. I love his heart. It says in the Bible, "have faith like a child." Sometimes it's hard to know what that truly means, unless you have a child that speaks so matter-of-fact to you. Isaiah is my sweet story teller, just like his father. It is a gift, sometimes in disguise:) He tells so many stories. Sometimes they are true and sometimes he's just expressing his imagination, but he tells it like it's real. He allows his imagination to go as far as it will take him, he allows his dreams to stay big. As we get older, we call ourselves realists, due to our experiences of trial and error. The older we get, the more we lose these dreams and imaginations. C.S. Lewis, one of my favorite authors, wrote in his book "The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe" in the dedication.... "... someday you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again." He wrote it to his Goddaughter, Lucy. C.S. Lewis was said to be fond of children, because of the way they thought, because of their imaginations. Adults were too close minded.

Isaiah has no reason to not believe that Jesus is real. That God is real. That angels are around us. That monsters are indeed in the closet, and that God is "bigger than the boogie man."
And that Dad is invincible and Mom knows how to make a kiss heal anything. He is not blind in any sense of the word. He sees the black on certain peoples skin, and knows that that is also beautiful. He sees the wheel chair that a man is in and knows that they don't need their legs to show God's love.

In reality these things do exist. The angels, the monsters, the invincible Dad, the healing mother. They may not seem real to us, who are more close minded. Because we see the world first.

On a side note:
Parents are ambassadors for God. When Isaiah sees Dad as invincible, it is real to him that God is invincible. When he feels that Mom's arms and kisses heal, he sees that God's arms and kisses heal. Isaiah's world revolves around our marriage, how we work together. In the words of Gary Ezzo, " Mom's arms are comfort, but Dad's arms are security." He needs that combination. We are human, and we will fail him at some point, but in turn, when he sees that out of us, it will be all the more real to him that God fulfills those things. He needs God. We need God. That child-like desire for our mom and dad, should be the same child-like desire that we have for our Father and Lord.

On another note, Do you know how hard it is to convince a child that there are NO MONSTERS IN THE CLOSET. To our reality, there isn't. But to his, they are very much real. His reality is the accurate one. If you think about it, there are monsters everywhere, ... demons... who are waiting for us. What do we do about it. We, as parents, have given him the tool he needs to take care of those monsters. Prayer in Jesus' name. We have him pray when he gets scared like that, embracing his reality of monsters, but also on the flip side embracing the angels as well. Reminding him that they are stronger, as they will always be.

When we talk about missing Sarah, he is always quick to say, "yes, but we are going to go up there to see her." and he has asked me if she'll come back, but I tell him the truth. That once you go to heaven, you don't come back again, but also that you don't want to come back again. We let our imaginations go wild, like children. And we come up with all the things we think Sarah is doing right now. Of course, then Isaiah gets a little jealous, and says, " I can't wait till I can go up there." As heart breaking as that concept is for me, I let him have it. I want him to desire to be in heaven with our Lord. I don't want to take that away, just because I can't live outside myself.

So why not? Sure... there are flying horses, and fauns, and all different kinds of creatures that we have never seen on this earth. There are plenty of creatures in the Bible that are explained that I can't fathom. So why not? Yes, there are good guys and bad guys, but the good always prevails as in every fairy tale.
Children learn from their parents, but parents have a lot to learn from these children. We need to have the eyes to see it. To see that there world is so much bigger than ours.

One of the greatest kings of the Old Testament, Josiah, was eight. He did not hesitate to do what he knew within all his soul to be the Truth.

Unbreakable spirits it seems they have. Big hearts, that are quick to love.
"have faith like a child."