Lost and Found

 "Or what woman, if she has ten silver coins and loses one coin, does not light a lamp and sweep the house and search carefully until she finds it? And when she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, 'Rejoice with me, for I have found the coin which I had lost!' In the same way, I tell you, there is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents." Luke 15:8-10

Tonight, this woman was me. My car and house key are connected to a small wallet that holds my license, credit cards, cash, etc... I went to Walmart and, in the course of shopping, lost this very critical item along the way. When I realized it, I walked the store looking for it, praying I would find it, but not seeing it anywhere. I went to customer service praying that someone had turned it in. No one was there for what seemed like 30 minutes. During that wait, I continued to pray that it had been found and turned in. I tried to remember all the items I had in my wallet and started thinking about the process of canceling cards, getting replacement IDs, and trying not to get upset or anxious. 

Just this morning I listened to a lesson in which Paul told the Corinthian church to have joy when they are faced with trials and struggles; that faith is increased, and character is developed in this process. I decided to thank God for His gifts in my life and determined that, even if my belongings were gone, I would trust His provision for my needs. My stress level immediately lowered, and I thanked God for the message I heard and His preparation of my heart for facing this issue. I focused on the fact that, while losing these items would indeed be a very unpleasant event, it is so small in the grand scheme of life.

About that time, the customer service rep returned and looked behind the counter. After a short search, she pulled out my keys and wallet! I literally had tears as I thanked God! The sweet lady gave me a hug and celebrated God's gift with me! I thank God that someone honest found it and turned it in! 

On my drive home, I thought about the story of the lost coin and the rejoicing over it being found. And that the point of the story is really about rejoicing in heaven over a lost soul being saved, not a found coin or keys/wallets. How much more valuable a soul is than any earthly possession. I am humbled and grateful for this personal lesson. I pray that God will increase my desire to tell others about Him, about His grace and promises, and about the joy in heaven over each lost soul that is saved. 

All Is Well

My sister would turn 45 years old tomorrow, May 1, 2023, if she were still alive. 

Over two years has passed since Sharon died and I think of her so often. The saddest thing to me is that I didn't know her, didn't appreciate her, didn't love her well until the end of her life. I feel as though I know her more now than I did then, and that is an odd feeling sometimes. 

Sharon was 21 months younger than I was; the closest in age of all my siblings, but not the closest in friendship. During graduate school, I self-diagnosed myself and pretty much all of my family members with some form of disorder. (I believe that is a requirement for any medical/nursing professional school!) I continue to believe that Sharon had Asperger's Syndrome, but she was never tested or diagnosed. Like many with Asperger's, Sharon was so intelligent it was almost startling how her mind worked, how much she retained, and how wide her knowledge base. And, like many with Asperger's, Sharon was socially awkward, had a hard time connecting with people, and was more alone than others. She loved to read and write. She was an artist who painted, threw pottery, drew, knitted, dreamed. I would say that I had no artistic ability because Sharon got my share...if anyone ever sees my "artwork" they would agree!

I have some of Sharon's artwork, some of her prayer journals, some of her writings. She started organizing a journal/book about her cancer journey, but it was left unfinished. I have learned about her heart through these items and feel like I see her for who she really was. An absolutely amazing woman who loved God deeply and loved serving others in so many ways. She donated her time and talent to paint murals in a Greenwood, TX library, she knit and sewed countless hats to donate to cancer victims, she wrote cards and letters to so many, and I could go on and on. Her prayer journal humbles me and encourages me. She not only wrote down her prayer requests and praises, but so many times she noted, sometimes several years later, when a prayer was answered and how it was answered! It humbled me to see my name and prayers for me in there...she was so special. 

During her last ER visit, I sat with her for several hours until she was admitted, and we talked more openly about so many things than we ever had before. I am so grateful for those hours. I am so grateful that we were able to bring her home under hospice care and have the precious time to care for her during her last days on this earth. Her death solidified in my mind that I wanted to work in hospice someday. Every shift, every patient and family member I serve now I try to serve them as if it was my dad or Sharon that I am caring for, not just another patient. It breaks my heart that I didn't know her better this side of Heaven, but I know that is where she is now. I know she is where her heart longed to be and that makes me so happy for her!

Her last notebook that includes thoughts on her cancer journey and her last will and testament ends with the words of a hymn. It's not a familiar hymn and I imagine it's one she discovered in some of her in depth studying of various topics. I love to read it when I am missing Sharon, missing the friendship that I wish we had. Because I know we will have eternity to be friends, sisters and fellow worshippers of our God, and that brings me peace. 

All Is Well

What is this that steals, that steals upon my frame?

Is it death? Is it death?

That soon will quench, will quench this mortal flame?

Is it death? Is it death?

If this be death, I soon shall be

From every pain and sorrow free.

I shall the King of glory see.

All is well! All is well!

Weep not, my friends, weep not for me.

All is well! All is well!

My sins forgiven, forgiven and I am free.

All is well! All is well!

There's not a cloud that doth arise

To hide my Jesus from my eyes.

I soon shall mount the upper skies.

All is well! All is well!

Hail! Hail! all hail! all hail! ye blood washed throng.

Saved by grace. Saved by grace

I come to join your rapturous song.

Saved by grace. Saved by grace.

All is peace and joy divine.

And heaven and glory now are mine.

Loud hallelujahs to the Lamb!

All is well! All is well!

Sharon Renea Woodring; May 1, 1978 - January 29, 2021

Sabbath

 Sabbath is the deliberate cessation of any activity that might reinforce my belief in my own self-sufficiency. (From Journey; daily devotions for women. Winter 2023)

Self-sufficiency. This concept resonates soundly in my innermost being. My mother tells me I was 'independent from birth'; I seemed to not want the same consoling, attention or coddling that other babies craved. When I left for college, I was adamant that I would not return to my childhood home to live. And, after that first summer of college, I didn't. I worked 2, sometimes 3, jobs in addition to a full course load, and very rarely accepted money from my dad after a weekend visit. I felt guilty taking money that I knew was in short supply and I wanted to be self-sufficient. One summer when my organic chemistry load was too great for my normal work schedule, I subsided on the cheapest boxed macaroni and cheese, and for some reason didn't find those 10 cent packages of Ramen noodles until a few years later! I slept in my car a few nights here and there when dorms were closed between semesters, too independent to ask my parents for help, or even my aunts and uncles who lived in the same city as I went to college in for a couch to sleep on. I thought I should be independent and self-sufficient, I felt like I was admitting some type of failure if I asked for help. 

I lived independently or with roommates for over a decade before getting married. When we first married, Mark worked out of town during the week. I would do things around the house that (only occasionally) would cause minor injury because I really could have used a second set of hands. He would ask me, "why didn't you wait until I got home to do that?" I would think, "why should I wait for someone else when I can just do it myself?" And now, even after 17 years, I oftentimes struggle with asking for anything I need from my husband, physical or emotional help. I still feel like I should be self-sufficient and not need anything from anyone else. 

Is it pride or arrogance? This self-sufficiency that seems so ingrained in me. Is it stubbornness or 'orneriness' as one of my aunts used to say? Could it be a strength that has brought me to the point I am today? Could it be a combination of all? Probably.

Deep down, I can see that there are positives in self-sufficiency, but personally I primarily see and feel negatives. For me, self-sufficiency is a protective measure and keeps me from being vulnerable with others. This, in turn, leaves me more alone, sometimes physically but mainly emotionally. I see that self-sufficiency affects my spiritual life and leaves me struggling to understand the concept of relying on God for all my needs. Maybe that is why the statement from the devotion today resonated strongly somewhere deep in my soul. Deliberate cessation of any activity that might reinforce my belief in my own self-sufficiency. What that looks like for myself I don't know, but there is something drawing me to dig deeper internally and prayerfully to find out. To God be the glory.

Transitions; From Beginnings to Endings

Transitions are oftentimes difficult. Transitions are oftentimes feared, resisted, and avoided. Transitions are an integral part of being a human, but that doesn't mean we always like them.

In birth, transition is the final phase between two stages of labor: the dilating and the delivering stages. Transition in labor is frequently the most difficult part. Women fear that they can't continue in labor, they resist the overwhelming sensations that come in unrelenting waves, and they may not understand they are so close to the end. That they are preparing to move on to the final stage when they will soon be rewarded for their labors. Assisting women through this transition of labor has been both incredibly challenging but also incredibly rewarding for me as a midwife. 

Birth is our first transition into this world. We move into a new arena where our entire lives literally are in front of us. The possibilities, for many, are seemingly endless. What will our childhood look like? Will we be a scholar or an athlete (or both)? Will we go to college, will we marry, will we have children of our own? Will we be happy, will we be a kind person, will we contribute to society in a beneficial or harmful way? Will we grow old? The questions are absolutely endless...

What about our final transition? Death and leaving this world we know and sometimes love. Over the past several years, I have said goodbye to a number of family members in this final transition. In 2016, my father passed away from pancreatic cancer. In 2021, my sister passed away from melanoma. In 2021, my father-in-law passed away from cancer. In 2022, my grandfather (in-law) passed away at the ripe old age of 94. I lost other family members prior to 2016, but I was younger, and they didn't have the same impact on me as these. Perhaps it was because I had not yet walked with so many through life transitions and I didn't see them in the same light as I do now. 

I was privileged, and I don't use that phrase lightly, to be at the bedside of both my father and my sister as they made their transition from life to death. Moments I will never forget and that changed me profoundly. 

It may sound strange to some, but there are incredible similarities between the transitions of birth and death in my mind. Breath - the breath of life at birth starts and at death ends. Watching and witnessing a baby breathe their first breath and take that first cry is an honor. Holding space and witnessing the final breath of someone is no less an honor. Birth is moving from an inner world we don't see clearly to our known existence. Death is moving again into a world we don't see clearly, but one day all will experience. Walking with the person through labor and birth, and also walking with a person and the family through death, are much about stillness, listening, support, encouraging, holding on, letting go. No two births are the same and no two deaths are the same, but everyone on this earth will make these two incredible transitions. 

With these and many other musings in mind, I am transitioning from my role as midwife to one of hospice nurse. I have worked my last shift as a midwife with Covington Women's Health Specialists; possibly delivered my last baby. And I start my new path in February with an inpatient hospice facility in Macon, Georgia. This, as with most transitions, has had its difficulties. Saying "see you later" to dear friends and colleagues was harder than any other past career move. Maybe because I am moving away from full time midwifery to something new it seems more challenging...I cannot say for sure.

Midwifery care and hospice care, to me, are holy endeavors. I believe that God gives us breath and numbers our days. He alone knows the moments of our birth and death. To be able to journey with families through these two most significant transitions of our lives is something I am so blessed to do as a career. To God be the glory in my future path is my prayer!

Lord Willing

Growing up my Mamaw always said "Lord willing" after making or hearing a statement of a future event. It flowed from her lips the same way that "Bless you" comes readily upon hearing someone sneeze. It was part of her vernacular and habit but, even at a young and immature age, I sensed that there was something special about this phrase. Recently while studying James, our home group re-discovered James 4:15: Instead, you ought to say, "If it's the Lord's will, we will live and do this or that." We all had read this book before and had undoubtedly read this verse numerous times. For several of us in the group it seemed to be the first time we saw the connection between this scripture and a phrase that we've heard others in our lives frequently make. I realized why it seemed special when my Mamaw would say these words; she was praying scripture which holds the power of God. As the context of the verse details, we have no real control over our next hours or days. We make plans for the future when the reality is that we are a mist that appears for a little while and then disappears. (v.14)  Every breath I take and every beat of my heart is granted to me by God alone and, only by God's grace, will I see tomorrow to carry out any plans I make. Is it wrong to make plans then? No. The reality of life is that we move forward day by day expecting to be here to carry out our tasks, our to-do lists, and our jobs. Otherwise we would do nothing, and that is not supported by scripture. But, we do these things with the prayer "Lord willing" in our hearts and on our lips. Understanding that it is by His power alone that we are able to do anything. If I am truly desiring to follow God's will for my life I have to constantly look to Him for guidance, for understanding of my circumstances, and for direction on my path.

The past two years have been adventuresome and wonderful. I was able to work as a home birth midwife for a season and, when that season came to an end, I was able to return to my old position at Women's Wellness Center. The Lord closed many doors that I desired to walk through and, though I didn't understand why, I trusted that He had other plans for me. I will never on this earth see the entire picture, but I have learned personally what it means for me to walk in faith and that makes me excited to see where God will lead me next!

It is with the prayer "Lord willing" in my heart and on my lips that we make arrangements for the next step in our lives. For now, our next step is Covington, Georgia.

I have accepted a midwifery position with Covington Women's Health Specialists and will start work there in September, Lord willing. I feel in some ways as though I am going home. I attended my first birth with this practice in 2005 as a student midwife. I met my husband while in that school rotation, and many of his family members live there or nearby. We always said that we desired to move closer to one side of the family at some point in our lives. This opportunity allows us to do that.

For now, I will work in Covington and come home on weekends when not on call. Mark will remain here working and we will try to sell our house. We are grateful that the distance is not too great to allow us to do this as we know many families separated for months or longer for work or military service, etc. I am also grateful that this allows us to continue worshiping with our church family here in Toccoa a little longer. Saying goodbye to Toccoa and those we love here will be difficult, but we walk forward believing that God is providing this opportunity and guiding our steps along the way.

Ah, There's the Rub...

I've mentioned in a past blog that transitions are hard on me, but that my transition from Women's Wellness Center to Journey of Life Midwifery has been miraculously smooth. Well it seems that I've hit some bumps in the road the past few days and I have struggled. Actually I've felt like I'm losing my mind a few times. Tonight it seemed to come to a head and maybe I've learned something.

I've learned that I am not perfect. I make mistakes. I fail, repeatedly. I know, shocker, right?

The thing is, I thought I had learned this lesson before - many, many times actually. Here's the problem with me - I'm hard-headed and stubborn and sometimes I find myself walking down the same mistake-filled road, winding up at the same dead end, feeling so frustrated that I am there AGAIN, and it hits me - I'm not perfect!

You see, I'm a perfectionist. I learned this about myself many years ago in counseling. I learned what a perfectionist is, how a perfectionist acts, why a perfectionist gets so frustrated with others and themselves, and how to cope with being a perfectionist. I prided myself on figuring all this out and overcoming it.

I pride myself on having things together - on being the "organized one." The one who seems to have it all together and who has somehow learned a thing or two and can now help others. But there's the rub - there is the root of my problem - my pride.

-The pride of your heart has deceived you, you who live in the clefts of the rocks and make your home on the heights, you who say to yourself, ‘Who can bring me down to the ground?’ Obadiah 1:3

-When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom. Proverbs 11:2

For over a year I've specifically prayed for humility. I know that I struggle with pride, with feeling like I have to, and that I do, have it together. That I have figured something out and that I am somehow making it on my own. And I know that I don't. I know that I am a broken, sinful person who can only claim forgiveness and grace as my salvation - but I have this pride that likes to rear it's ugly head way too much. So I pray for humility. I read scriptures about humility. For the majority of the year, our sermons have been about humility and meekness. I feel walls breaking down and a closeness with God growing. And then I start making mistakes. Mistakes in bookkeeping that lead to penalty fees. I've prided myself in never having penalty fees. Mistakes in organization that don't really have bad consequences but that make me look ill prepared. I've prided myself on being organized and always prepared. I find myself getting so upset with myself that I am retreating to old ways - self destructive ways that I thought I had left in the past but apparently I still have tucked away for just such an occasion...

Interestingly enough, a scene from Evan Almighty is what brings me to my knees. Morgan Freeman playing God is serving as a waiter to Evan's wife after she leaves Evan building an ark. I can't remember exactly the words, but it is essentially this: How do we gain courage if we're never in a situation where we have to be courageous? This scene resonated with me at the time I saw it, but it hit home tonight. How do I learn humility if I'm not in situations where I have to show humility - even to myself?

I am reminded of why perfectionism is a sin - why it separates me from God. If I am striving to be perfect and I convince myself that I have reached some place of "arrival" or "having it together-ness" then I have put myself on a pedestal on which I don't belong. My pride begins to swell because I feel like I have done something that sets me apart and above others. I begin to see myself in a role that is God's role. I have made myself my idol.

Lord, forgive me!

 

Endings and Beginnings

I am coming to the end of my time at Women's Wellness Center and I feel myself both longing for the next step and feeling sadness over leaving. I am so thankful for my time at Women's Wellness Center and working at Stephens County Hospital. I always thought I would be moving away from Toccoa when I left the clinic, so I am excited that my new practice allows me to remain here and maintain friendships without miles between us.

I find myself saying, "This is the last Wed/Thurs being on call for the clinic," "This is the last time going to this satellite office," "This is my last time to see this client," "This may be the last birth I attend with this particular nurse." Last week I said, "This is the last waterbirth I will attend at Stephens County Hospital." And it did not disappoint on so many levels.

My friend was expecting her fourth child, and I have been blessed to attend all of her births. Every one has been so special and unique, but there have been similarities that tie them all together in such a precious way. I was looking forward to this birth for many reasons. Her first child's birth, I believe, will always be one of my most precious memories as I reflect on my midwifery career. She and her husband are incredible musicians and songwriters and they had written a song for their firstborn. After a beautiful labor and birth, she and her husband held their daughter and sang to her the song written especially for her. Every once in awhile I listen to that song and can picture that moment replayed in my mind. Another reason this birth was so special was because it was shared with one of my best friends and midwifery partners. She was the newest midwife in our practice and had not attended many waterbirths at our clinic yet, so I came in to help set up the tub and be an extra set of hands. I didn't know if I would even stay much longer after getting things set up because it was getting late and my on call days were coming. (It's always a good idea to get a full night's sleep before a few days of call!) But, my friend's labor was progressing rapidly and I decided to stay, and I am so glad that I did. This waterbirth was one of the first that my partner and I attended together and I feel like it bonded our friendship in a special way.

My friend's second and third births were very similar, except much faster - her third was so fast I didn't know if I would get the tub filled before her baby made his appearance! Each birth was peaceful, joyful, reverent, and so full of love for this newest member of their family. Each baby heard their parents singing a song of welcome and celebration within moments of being in their arms. Their third birth was unique in that their two older children were spending the night at their grandparents' house. Her labor was so quick that no one knew they were headed to the hospital, much less that their son was born. They revelled in celebrating their son's birth completely alone, and greatly enjoyed calling to share the news a few hours later!

As her fourth child's birth approached, I realized this would be my last waterbirth as a midwife with Women's Wellness Center. I so wished my midwifery partner with whom I shared the first birth still lived here so she could also attend this birth, but I knew that wasn't possible. My friend's labor was different in some ways this time. This was her first labor and birth that would take place during daylight hours. It seemed strange to see sunlight through the window as we waited for the birth. We walked several laps in the hallway talking between contractions, mainly about the meaning behind some of their songs, before filling the tub for the remainder of her labor and birth. We talked and laughed and I stood by as her husband supported her during the contractions. I purposefully set up the tub in the same room in which she delivered her other three children, and also the room in which my midwifery partner had delivered her baby last year. That room is almost sacred to me because of the worshipful births I have attended in it and I couldn't imagine this event taking place anywhere else. As she labored in the tub, worship music filled the room; manyof the songs written and sung by her husband. Prayers were said, songs were sung, hands were lifted, and God was present in our midst. Observing this beautiful moment was overwhelming and tears of gratitude streamed down my face. Before long, their son was ready to make his appearance. His birth was peaceful and perfect and, as with his siblings, he was welcomed with singing by his parents, prayers of thanksgiving, and joy that he was here. As with their first birth, this birth was attended by two midwives. My new midwifery partner was also in attendance. She is new to our practice and was there to learn how to set up the tub and to help be an extra set of hands. I am so glad that she was able to be there with me. It wasn't until later that I thought about the connection between my friend's births and my fellow midwives - it is special to me that I have been able to pass on the tradition of waterbirth to the newest members of our team. I feel as though I passed the torch on to my new partner and know that women are in excellent hands as I transition to my new practice.

I have only a few days left, only a few more births, only a few more memories to make working at the clinic. This ending opens the door to my new beginning as a midwife with Journey of Life Midwifery. So thankful to all those who let me share in their journeys, and look forward to many more.

*Birth stories used with permission.