My mom will never forget her year of being 50. We started her out with a big surprise party - this was a miracle b/c she is almost impossible to surprise! Just a few short weeks after that, my Dad was rushed to the hospital with a heart blockage. Two weeks after that, our sweet little Gracie pulled boiling tea over on herself, burning 30% of her body. My Mom then underwent a hysterectomy in January, and I began having major pregnancy issues in February. Cullen was born March 31, and since then, life's been pretty calm - compared to the rest of the year! We decided for Mom's 51st birthday, we'd take her out to dinner a couple nights before the actual day - just the grown ups! A quiet dinner - no one crawling around under the table, needing to "go potty", or spilling food on us. Just quiet conversation (okay, our family isn't exactly quiet, but no one under the age of five with us means no screaming), and time to bless Mom with our presence. I was elected to pray before them meal, since I was in the middle of the table, and everyone could hear me better. As I prayed for the food, and also for Mom, the words came out of my mouth "and please give Mom the ..." - long pause. In my heart, I was being prompted to pray for strength for her. I remember thinking "that makes no sense. Strength for what? Everything's going okay. She's busy, but nothing crazy." So I fumbled around, and tried to just end the prayer without sounding like I'd lost all train of thought. We had a great night, a wonderful meal, and topped the evening off by stopping for ice cream. I think Mom was looking forward to saying goodbye to the difficulties of her 50 year, but God had other plans. The next morning I was awoken by our phone ringing, and also to why the Spirit had laid the need for strength on my heart the night before. I answered, and heard my Mom say something about being at the hospital with Dad, and that she needed all of us to come. My Dad had bleeding on the brain, and was being taken to the ICU. You can't ever be prepared for a call like this. We rushed down to the hospital, praying for a good amount of our very slow drive, and met everyone else in ICU. We spent a lot of time together over the next two days, alternately crying, praying, worrying, feeling helpless . Through it all, my Mom was optimistic and hopeful, only occasionally showing her worry. Dad is recovering, and will have no permanent deficits due to the subdural hematoma he suffered. In fact, they kicked him out of the ICU down to a different floor because he was giving the OT a hard time!

Usually when I think of strength, I see someone who always maintains their composure. Someone who can face anything that God asks them to walk through. No crying, no hysterics. After the last few days, I have a different view. My husband likes to occasionally joke about my - as he called it - emotional constipation. Yes, I am a stuffer. I like to have everything crammed into my little box, and sit on the lid so it doesn't accidentally pop out and draw attention to me. Shows of emotion have always seemed weak to me. At one point during this whole ordeal, my Mom broke down and talked about the reality of how she was feeling. Instead of this seeming weak, I now see the strength in it. The strength in it came from the fact that even though this situation was hard, she knew God was good, and He was in control. In our moments of weakness and transparency, He is strong for us! I've heard this over and over, but I feel like this was something He needed to really whack me over the head with through all of this. I will also never again hesitate to pray what's on my heart, even if it doesn't make total sense at the time. We are so thankful that God chose to spare Dad, and that He is continuing to heal him. I am again amazed by the smallness I feel whenever we enter a valley like this. Our human frailty is so obvious, and I'm so thankful for God's sovereign plan for each of us.