Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Hole Mole! Its Flyiing POO- 2



The Huston to San Antonio flight is probably the shortest flight in the airline buisness. The plane basically goes up to the required altitude, holds its position for a minute and begins its decend. All in all, the trip takes half an hour. Its almost glorious.


Almost.


The "fasten seatbelt" sign never goes off. Passengers are required to remain seated for the duration of the flight. As the plane began to desend, Katy scrunched up her face. It was the all-too-familiar- face of poop. It would be a good twenty or thirty minutes until I could reach an airport bathroom. I was embarrased, but I would have to change her on the seat.


I felt the squishy lump on the side of her pant leg. I bit my lip and braced myself . As I removed her pants, a turd the size of Alaska slid down her leg. Her diaper had overloaded. In an instant, the fowl odor filled the plane. Katy stuck her hand in and grabbed a piece of poop. Before I could do anything about it, she turned it into finger pait as she smooshed it in her hands and patted on the seats. It took four hands (Isaac and mine) to control the situation. Isaac held her down and I wiped her entire body.


I glanced up at the passengers. Some were holding their noses. Others, had a fist in front of their mouth (as if to hold back an urge to puke). I had to hurry. Meanwhile, Katy's soiled pants rested on the floor. They were my favorite, but there was no way that I could take them home like this. I would have to walk around with a bag of poop for the next hour in order to salvage them. Instead, I found a plastic bag and pitched them.


At long last, all was "clean" and Katy sat merrily on her seat. Wearing only a t-shirt and a diaper, she tapped cheerfully on her belt buckle, completely unaware of how inappropriate the entire ordeal had been. For the rest of the flight, I sat facing forward and avoided any eye contact with the passengers.


Good thing it was a short flight.

Saturday, April 26, 2008

Michelle is temporatily out of service

Michelle has had a long week. It appears that her engine is in need of some maintenance. Reparation is underway and she will kick back into gear in no time. We apologize for the inconvenience.


In the meantime, here is a list of whats coming soon-



  • "Holy Mole! Its flying poo- II" (in which a poopy diaper explodes during an airplane landing)


  • "My Evil Twin is Actually Me" (In which michelle throws numerous fits during a week long trip, shaming herself with the inlaws)

  • "My Very Own Meteor shower-3" (in which a rain of developmental milestones land in Katy's path to recovery)

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

My very own meteor shower- part 2

Even though I would never admit it in public, I spent a great deal of my teenage years dreaming of my “prince charming.” I was always trying to be the funny one, or the tough one, but deep inside me was a princess waiting for a knight in shining armor. I remember sitting in the middle of the evergreen forest that surrounded my Washington home as I fabricated romantic plots in my head.

The man of my dreams would be tall, and have brown hair. He would be both, a strong leader and a capable comedian. As a lover of nature, he would enjoy camping, fishing and swimming in the ocean. He would be a musician, and above all- he would be a head over heels, love struck follower of God, devoted to serve Him for life.

The first time I saw Isaac I thought my blood would drain straight down to my feet. I became dizzy and weak. My heart pounded loudly in my chest, and my pupils dilated. I tried as hard as I could hide my emotions. I thought that I was doing OK, until the moment his eyes made contact with mine. Then, I was sure that my stare betrayed my secret. It was the strongest emotion I have ever felt. I was sick with love, and yes, it happened at first sight.

As we got to know each other, I screened him through and trough. With each new detail that unraveled about him, I discovered that the prince charming I had dreamed of was not imaginary. He was real, and he was with me. It was overwhelming to find that he felt the same way about me. Only one thing was missing from my “check list.” He was not musically inclined. It was not a big deal. I was crazy in love with him, and a little element like that made no difference whatsoever.


Two years later, I walked down the isle in my white gown. Isaac was standing at the altar, surrounded by candles. He looked breathtakingly handsome in his three piece silver suit. I was actually living the very same fairy tale that I had written in my head years before.

After five years of marriage, we were given the greatest blessing that a man and a woman can receive. A child of their own. Only one year later, we found ourselves in the geneticist’s office, listening to the toughest news of our lives.




“Your daughter is severely retarded”

“We can’t control her seizures”

“We hope she can walk by age five”

“Her damaged cerebellum will challenge her sense of balance for life.”


In prayer and desperation, Isaac wrote a song for our little girl. It was a song about God’s faithfulness to his people- and a reminder of the promise we have in Him. At first he could not sing the entire song. Isaac’s voice cracked as he broke into tears, time and time again. Nevertheless, he continued believing in the midst of a storm. If we came back from a doctor’s office with more bad news- he sang. If Katy had one more seizure or hallucination- he sang. If our little baby would lie there unresponsive- he sang. The song became our anthem and our cry of faith.

One song led to another and another, and another. Pretty soon, Isaac had a collection of songs to inspire our faith and remind us of God’s goodness. Not even a year later, we found ourselves surrounded by blessing after blessing. Katy’s seizures inexplicably disappeared. She began to respond to us. To make eye contact and to smile. She learned her name and turned our way when we called. She began to use her hands, she learned to sit, crawl, stand and against all odds- walk.

Soon, our church was singing the same songs that we first sang in the privacy of our living room. The very songs that kept us alive at three in the morning when we thought we would die. It was these very songs that began to inspire the faith of hundreds of people. Then, the unexpected happened.

Isaac was offered to give a concert at a conference with three thousand people. In what seemed like a second, a band was formed and his songs were published and copywriten. Just like that, Isaac found himself standing on a stage, in the middle of a crowd with every single eye glued on him. He told the story. The one of Katy and of our cry of faith. The people began to weep as Isaac’s voice broke once again. But this time it was not out of heartbreak. It was out of gratitude and relief. The guitar began to strum. The message of the song echoed through the auditorium.


“You’ve given me the heritage of those who fear your name…”

Tear covered faces were scattered through the auditorium as the blue lighting intensified on the stage. The chorus of the song repeated, each time more impassioned and determined. And then, out of the corner of the stage- a two year old little girl, walking as she made her way to the center. With each little step, she became a living testimony of God’s love and faithfulness. She made her way further in, walking towards the man who had clung to hope against hope for her recovery. Her dad.

In just one second, Katy’s story became a miracle on public display. Every person stood motionless, as they watched my little girl walking perfectly towards her daddy. Everywhere I looked, someone was crying. Isaac picked her up and held her tight, as he finished his song. Suddenly- a standing ovation. It was a thunderous sound of victory. Then I knew-

It was all worth it.

Isaac had not even gotten off the stage before people were crowding him. He received numerous invitations to other cities and several recording opportunities. In less than a month, he has already started a tour and production for his first solo album is already underway.

It’s amazing what can happen when you cling to faith. Some trials are over quick, and others are a long journey. Even though we can’t always choose our circumstances, we have the power to choose our response to them. It’s not the event itself that will determine the outcome; it’s what you choose to make of it that will shape the future. Isaac and I decided to believe against all odds, and openly share our story for the world to see. As a result, hundreds of hurting people have begun to respond in faith as they too- cling for hope against hope.

Believe me when I tell you- this is only the beginning. There is more, much more to come…

Monday, April 7, 2008

My Very Own Meteor Shower (part 1)

My life has gone through so many amazing things this past month, that I have to break it down into readable segments. So much has happened that it really works best if told in parts. This is part one.


If I had a moment to explain... I wonder if I could.

Imagine being thrown into a forest in the thick of the night. Feeling lost, desperate and horribly afraid, you cry out to God. You beg Him to get you out, to send you home- anything to get you out of the nightmare. But all you hear is the echo of your own voice. You crouch on the floor and cry in despair, when all of the sudden- a flash of light. As you look up, you notice the tail end of a shooting star. It’s enough to distract you. Thinking of the stars in the sky and the universe that holds them makes the forest seem small by comparison. Your faith begins to build. Not too much later, you spot another one. Then another. And another. Before you know it, you’re standing in the middle of a meteor shower, an awesome display of God’s power for an audience of one. You.

If you can imagine being there, then you have a faint glimpse of the stunning moments that I have recently experienced.







A CRY OF FAITH (where it all began)


I remember when my husband and I walked out of the geneticists’ office. I remember the smell of wet dirt and the grayness of the sky. The weather was slightly cool, but it felt like ice. My heart had just been broken. No- it had been smashed, stomped and pulverized. Holding my husband’s hand, I still felt alone. So did he. When your child is diagnosed with a disorder that takes away your hope for her future, the brokenness is yours alone to bear. No amount of hugs, kisses or talking takes the pain away.


Katy had turned one merely days before. When other parents celebrate with party hats and cake, we were taking our birthday girl for blood draws and lab work. The news was bad. They said that she had a metabolic disorder. It was genetic. Her condition made protein toxic to her brain. Since we did not know about the disorder until that week, we had not placed her on a diet that could have saved her mind (she was born in Mexico, where these tests are not run). Now we stood there, listening to how we had hurt her brain beyond repair.


There was a 95% chance that she would be severely brain damaged. Our princess! The one we tried to conceive for so many years! The one I held with tears of joy the moment I first received her. How? How could this be her future?


“She may be five and still not walking,” the geneticist said without hesitation, “expect any development to be slow.”


The evening of the diagnosis, Katy had a seizure in the doctor’s office. It was not uncommon. Her seizures manifested four to six times a day. It was just one more thing to prove that her brain was not OK. We drove home in silence.


After I put Katy to bed, I found Isaac on his knees- crying, praying. I gave him some time, and went to another room to do the same. I don’t remember how it happened, but somehow, we fell asleep- for a few hours.


I awoke to the soft sound of a guitar. Isaac was playing in the living room. He had written a song. I walked in to listen to the words-

Hear my cry, O God; listen to my prayer.
From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
For you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against the enemy.
I long to dwell in your house forever
and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.

For you have heard my vows, O God;
you have given me the heritage of those who fear your name.




It was Psalm 61



From that day on, I would hear his song on a daily basis. It became his faith cry. And mine…

Friday, April 4, 2008

A side of me no one has ever seen...

Im really putting myself out there. This video might spark angry people (it got some controversy on MYSPACE). Lets give it a try anyway- shall we?


video

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Crown me Queen of DORK

After Katy was born, my involvement in the church greatly diminished. All her medical complications made being a mother more than a full time job. That's why its so special for me whenever I get a chance to do something for the ministry. It makes me feel like saying:

"Hey people! Im still here, alive and kickin'!"

When I was asked to open for the annual conference "Prophets Arise" along side of Isaac, I was thrilled. It was a complete honor, and I was humbled and excited at the same time. That evening, I wore the most slimming outfit I had. I prepared myself mentally to get the people excited about the conference, and packed a big diaperbag for all of Katy's needs while I was away.

I was ready.

When Isaac and I went up there, he said all I had thought about saying. By the time I had to speak, all I could come up with was

"We have a fantastic presentation prepared for you. Let's get started!"

to which Isaac interrupted and said that no, it was not time for that yet. Apparently, there was something else on the schedule before that presentation. So, there I was- with nothing worthwhile to say and three thousand people to watch.
I was a true DORK.

But then, there is always the cherry on top. As an added DORK Bonus- I came across the only picture taken of me during the conference. It was that rare moment when I was actually talking (probably about the non-upcoming presentation). Here I am, looking like a total DUFUS HEAD:


Let us laugh together at the irony of the moment.

(look closely. It looks like Im taking a moment to fart)


Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Holy Mole! It's flying poo!

My video and pictures wound up in Mexico City, as soon as I get them I will tell (and show) you all of the amazing things that happened during my birthday week. All I can say is- turning thirty never felt so great for anybody!

-----------------------------------------------


Is there such a thing as "normal?" My daughter's recovery is coming along so nicely, and she is curious about everything...and I mean everything. Here's the latest in her discoveries:



POOP.



Whenever she is getting a diaper change (and only when there is poop), she will reach down to her bottom and scratch at it. That's before I can get there with the wipe- but that's part of her tactic. I find myself wiping her toosh with one hand, and with the other moving her curious little arm out of the way. That means that both of my hands are busy.


And that I'm dissarmed.

With that power, Katy grabs the dirty diaper and lets it fly in the air, leaving poop pieces all over the place. Just so you know, "Murphey's Law" applies to dirty diapers as well. The loaded side allways lands face down.

Now I'm faced with a tough decicion. Do I go for the diaper or wipe her bottom? I can see Katy's face of triumph as I scramble to make things right. She thinks this is some delightful little game. I try to keep my face as stern and serious as possible, but sometimes I think she sees right through me.


Yesterday, I got in the shower before Katy woke up. It was my husband's turn to get her out of bed. I actually chuckled to myself when I heard him yell:




"No! No!

Katy NOOOOOOOOOOO!"



I guess I forgot to tell him about the new diaper changing technique.