Doing Hard Better Than Anyone Else: Thoughts on Veterans Day 2024

I joined the Navy at 23 years old.  The atmosphere suited me - organization, structure, challenges, the camaraderie; I loved it, and was convinced I would be the first female Chief of Naval Operations.  I lived and breathed my uniform as an extension of me.  One and a half years into my service, I embarked on another adventure, marrying Jason Springer, my best friend and a fellow shipmate.  Jason and I had gone through two training schools together and were stationed on opposite sides of the country; he in San Diego, I in Winter Harbor, Maine.  Only 74 days after we were married, Jason went overboard from the USS Kinkaid and was lost at sea in the Pacific Ocean, making me a widow one month shy of my 25th birthday.  We had only been together for 8 days of our short marriage, and his death sent me into a tailspin.  I looked for him in every uniform, and though my uniform still very much defined me, I changed so much over the course of the next year that I had a difficult time recognizing myself.  

After serving four years, I took my uniform off for the last time to go to college and study psychology.  I needed to understand how something like the death of a spouse could so fundamentally change a person.  And even though leaving the Navy was my choice, it still felt like another death, like my identity was being stripped away.  I cried the day they read me out for my clearance, and I turned in my military ID card.  Life was not unfolding according to my plan, but God’s plan for me was bigger than what I could see.  Proverbs 16:9 says it best: “In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.”  

Each veteran’s service is as unique as the social fabric of America.  I’ve met veterans from every state in the US, every territory, Africa, Europe, Asia, and the Middle East - from a white girl born in rural Arkansas to a Green Card holding Nigerian, from a black boy who grew up in the Bronx to a naturalized citizen from Lebanon.  

What each veteran has in common is a love of our United States of America - a country like no other, where freedom reigns and hope is alive.  And if anything else is universal among us, it is this - we find purpose in a cause greater than self.  In the Navy, we are taught there is no “I” in team.  One of the Air Force’s core values is “service before self,” something the Army calls “selfless service.”  As inspirational as these are, the Bible says it even better in Philippians 2:3-4 when Paul said, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit.  Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.”  Through Christ, we have inherited a heart of service and a mandate.

A few weeks ago, I went to a convening of veteran service organizations at the Bush Institute. One hundred twenty leaders from across the country, working on a broad spectrum of veterans' issues, spent two days collaborating and discussing the “Veteran Landscape.”  Among our discussions were: education and career opportunities, suicide and mental health, and how to set veterans up for success when transitioning out of the service.  There are so many issues facing veterans, but their most universal struggle relates to loss: loss of structure, loss of camaraderie, and loss of purpose.

Having lost Jason and my Navy identity, I can wholly relate to this.  I needed to find myself - find my purpose.  These experiences had to be useful, and Jason’s death could not be in vain.  On the 3rd day after he went missing, and two days after the search for his remains was suspended, words could not describe my anguish.  The pain is still vivid after 27 years.  I thought I would die of dehydration from the tears that wouldn’t end.  In the quiet of my room, I verbally cried out to God, “God, please take this away from me.  I can’t do this anymore.”  In Philippians 4:6-7, Paul writes, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”  God met me in that moment, in the heaviness of that room, and calmed the storm.  His palpable peace filled my lungs and mind, and in the greatest moment of clarity I’ve ever known, I looked at my desk and saw a brochure from the Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors, also known as TAPS.  I called the number and that evening met a woman named Bonnie who would go on to become one of my dearest friends.  In that first conversation, I made a commitment to “make it matter.”  And through Jason’s death, I found my purpose, as I have worked for TAPS for 11 years now.  In 2 Corinthians 1:3-4, Paul says, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.”  This is my purpose.

When I speak with wives whose husbands have died by suicide, it can be gut-wrenching.  When moms share their broken hearts, the mom in me cries with them.  When I attend funerals of our fallen heroes, it takes me back to the day a uniformed officer placed Jason’s folded flag in my hands, and I heard the mournful “TAPS” played for the first time.  Yes, sometimes it’s hard, but I had a recent conversation with General Martin Dempsey, the 18th Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, in which he said, “We have to do hard better than anyone else.”  He was speaking about veterans, but this is relevant to us all as Christians.  We draw on the strength of Jesus to lean into hard places, dark places.  Jesus didn’t run from the broken.  He didn’t shrink from pain.  He calls us into the world, starting in our families and communities, to hold these difficult spaces.  

In 1 Peter 3:13-15, Peter calls to us, “Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good?  But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed.  Do not fear their threats; do not be frightened.  But in your hearts, revere Christ as Lord.  Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have.”  Our veterans might well live under this scripture, as they have since the inception of this great American experiment, sought to do good, often under threat, often afraid, and often suffering, sometimes even for years after their service, as I have seen, as many of us have seen.

Like these damaged and repaired flags, which have been gifted to us as a reminder, we each can point to our own scars and brokenness.  But just as these flags have found new purpose, through the generosity of our scars and Christ’s wounds, by which we are healed, we can proclaim a new purpose.  And with absolute certainty, we can give an account of where our hope comes from.  As the old hymn goes:

    My hope is built on nothing less

    Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness

    I dare not trust the sweetest frame

    But wholly lean on Jesus’ name

I have been married to my husband Arie for 25 years now.  By the time he retired from the Navy in 2014, the total time he had been deployed away from me and our three kids was more than 5 years.  Others who have served no doubt share similar experiences, and I recognize that you don’t have to be a veteran to understand struggle and sacrifice.  Nonetheless, in recognition of this Veterans’ Day, to my fellow veterans and the families who have served alongside them through many sacrifices, I say thank you for doing hard better than anyone else.  In the spirit of service, may we all continue to serve God by serving others, finding and renewing our purpose.  And as we lean on Jesus’ name, “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” (Romans 15:13)

The God Who Sees

The God Who Sees

Last night at youth group, I had an amazing small group of high school girls who changed before my eyes over the course of an hour.  As they leaned in, their walls began to slowly lower.  Texts from two of them later revealed how deeply they needed to be seen, heard and loved.  There is so much more to unpackage, process, and be open to around this.  Their messages were heartbreaking and illuminated their brokenness, reminding me of my own recent brokenness.  I am in awe of God as I share how the last 24 hours have unfolded.

This morning, I spontaneously decided to take the day off to be with my kids.  Peace was in my heart as I showered and contemplated how we can meet people where they are.  I thought about the high school girls last night.  Praising, worshipping, and praying in my bathroom, I thought about all the people who walk around us every day.  There are so many people and so many needs.  We can't possibly see them all and pursue them all.  But what if we can help people find us?  What if the people who need prayer can know we are here to pray over them and love them as they go through their trials?  The Holy Spirit got me excited about wearing a shirt that says, "How can I pray for you?"  My hands were literally trembling with energy as I prayed about this and continued preparing for the day.  Never have I trembled with that kind of spiritual energy.  I had an image of someone walking up to me in the grocery store to tell me their story, and praying together at that moment - two people meeting God together, tears and all - pure joy and pain all in one place.

An hour later, we were late getting out the door for the Texas State Fair and were meeting friends.  Stepping out of my house to the van, I saw a work van blocking my driveway.  Here is the exchange I had with the driver.

Audri: "Oh, I need to get out."  

Driver: "I'll be done in 15 minutes."  

Audri: "If you'll let me out, you're welcome to park in my driveway."  

He began walking around to the driver's side of his van.

Audri: "How are you today?" 

Driver: "I'm doing okay, how are you?"     

Audri: "If I got any better, I don't know if I could contain it!"

Driver: "Wow, that's really great."

It wasn't an energetic "wow," but rather one of curiosity.  Hearing this in his voice, the Holy Spirit urged me toward him.

Audri: "Can I pray for you?"

Driver: "Yes, of course."

I placed my hand on his shoulder and began to pray for unspecified needs for this man.  While I didn't know his needs, God already knew and was sensitive to the condition of his heart.  When we finished praying, he looked at me from behind orange mirrored sunglasses and I could see a tear coming down from the bottom of the right side of his glasses.  

Audri: "I see you.  What's going on?"

Driver: "There's just a lot of stuff going on in my life."

Audri: "What is your name?"

Driver: "Alberto"

Audri: "Alberto, look, a week ago, I was completely empty.  I was suicidal and had completely burned myself out.  My community, the people who love me, they met me in that place and they lifted me up to God when I didn't have the strength to do it myself.  Alberto, I don't know where you are.  I don't know what you're struggling with, but I know you can't do it alone and you need God.  And to get close to God, if you don't have the strength to do it right now, the people you surround yourself with will do it for you.  You need community."

He began to cry.

Alberto: "I really needed to hear that.  Everything that you said, I was right there two months ago.  I really needed to hear this.  Thank you so much.  Can I have a hug?"

Audri: "Absolutely!"

Hugging there at the end of my driveway, two complete strangers experienced a bit of healing and a lot of the presence of God.  

Audri: "See this house?  This is my house.  Now you know where I live.  If you ever need a hug or a prayer, come find me."

This beautiful interaction with a man named Alberto at the end of my driveway, on a bright sunny day, was no random encounter.  God knew we both would be there.  The emptiness I'd felt over the last week had made space for me to be filled by God.  I'd spent the morning praising Him and listening for the urging of the Holy Spirit and my heart had already been prepared for that moment.  God had already prepared Alberto to receive that moment.

None of the events of the last week are a surprise to God.  And I won't live in shame or hide the fact that struggled to that degree of hopelessness.  2 Corinthians 1:3-4 encourages me that God never wastes a single hurt.  We are not perfected in order to serve.  It is through our brokenness that God prepares us to serve others.  "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God."  I praise God for the comfort he has brought me through others who were unwilling to watch me suffer, and who lifted me to the presence of God when I couldn't get myself there.  Lord, don't ever let me forget my brokenness.  Amen!

You Raised Me Up

You Raised Me Up 

At 3:27 p.m., I got a text from a dear friend, "Hey Audri.  We missed you last night, but I sure hope you are feeling much better!"  He was checking in on me, knowing I had been sick with Covid for a few days.  At 4:17 p.m., I texted him, "I am physically, but please pray for me.  I feel emotionally depleted and can't stop crying."  

At 5:45 p.m., when he hadn't responded, I was gripped with guilt.  I suddenly wished I could stuff those words back into my heart.  My transparent vulnerability had laid my burden squarely on the shoulders of someone I cared about.  I immediately texted him, "I'm sorry.  I shouldn't have put that on you.  I'm okay."  I lied.  All I could think was that he, too, couldn't let me be weak and was also willing to just let me go unseen.  Maybe like everyone else, he was assuming my strength.  I'm supposed to be the one others lean on, not the other way around.  He's also a leader in our church.  I'd said too much.  Now I would never be trusted to lead or minister to others.  I sank. 

At 6:39 p.m., he finally replied.  "No, Audri don't feel sorry at all!  I appreciate you sharing that with me so I can pray for you.  Is there anything else I can do for you to help with these feelings?"

Immediately, I replied, "I don't know, aside from prayer.  I appreciate your heart though."  I was already convinced that he was really too busy and was responding out of obligation, not because he actually cared.  My mind had already convinced me that no one really did.  Now I was just trying to push him away.  (I couldn't live in grace in those moments - couldn't recognize that his delayed response was nothing more than him living life, and serving others.  He was busy loving other people.  My broken heart couldn't see clearly.)

At 7:26 p.m., I left my house with no destination in mind.  I just needed to get away.  The walls felt like they were closing in on me.  Despite four other people being in the house, I felt completely unseen, and I had been withdrawing over the previous three weeks.  My noise-canceling earbuds lived in my ears.  They filled my mind with music that reinforced a growing sense of hopelessness.  At the time, I couldn't fully articulate why I was collapsing.  I kept losing myself and creating growing distance between me and my husband, me and my kids, me and everyone who loves me.  Every hurt, every sense of abandonment, every foothold of darkness and self-doubt seemed to land on me simultaneously.  My mind began to convince me that nothing would change.  I would continue to be invisible to those who were supposed to see me and care enough to do something about it.  My spiral wasn't their fault.  I wanted to disappear.  My mind began conjuring all the ways I could make that happen.  How could I die with the least impact on others?  Storm clouds formed in my mind, and within two blocks of my house, I could hardly drive through growing sobs of despair.  In hindsight, I came to realize that I was under spiritual attack.

At 7:27 p.m., as I pulled up to a stop sign, my friend finally replied.  "Of course, Audri.  I would love to get a coffee with you sometime and just catch up on how you've been post-Germany."  Over the summer, we had served together on a missions trip to Germany that had radically changed me.

At 7:46 p.m., I replied, "Germany was amazing.  God has worked on my heart so much since then.  I've never prayed so fervently in my life as then and now.  So much has changed inside me.  In a way, I feel like I woke up.  I feel like God is doing something in me.  And I'm fighting a spiritual battle.  I'm praying, singing, writing, and leaning into God more than I ever have, but...I can't eat.  I'm not sleeping.  I've lost weight.  I got Covid.  My marriage is under attack.  And I can't tell you how desperate I feel right now."  

No reply.

At 7:48 p.m., my husband called.  "Where do you go.  You sound melancholy."  I lied.  "I just needed to get out and take a walk, and I'm going to the store.  Text me what you need."  It was everything I could do to hold in tears to get him off the phone.

At 7:55 p.m., I was convinced that I didn't really matter.  I texted my friend a final, "I'm so sorry."  By then, I was sitting in a random parking lot with a death grip on my steering wheel.  I really wanted to go where no one would ever find me, and all I could do was sob.  I was done and was trying to formulate a plan to take my life.  Even then, it was tearing my heart apart.  I work with those whose loved ones have died by suicide.  The thought of the trail of destruction I would leave behind only made me cry harder, only made me more despairing.  Within less than a minute, my phone rang.  

"Audri, what's going on?"  

"Zach, I can't breathe!"

This is where it started.  We spoke for 15 minutes, during all of which I sobbed.  I poured my heart out, but I honestly can only remember feeling like my heart and mind were imploding.  He listened and encouraged.  Then I said it.  I wanted to die.  I don't think he hesitated.  He knew I wasn't safe.  

"Audri, where are you?  Drop me a pin.  I'm on my way."  

I dropped him the pin and waited, sobbing uncontrollably and holding on.  

At 8:36 p.m., Zach pulled into the parking spot next to me.  He brought reinforcements - God and two other friends from church, Wes and Caitlin.

I melted out of my van and into the arms of my friends.  All I could think to say was, "You came for me."  Even now, I'm overwhelmed nearly to the point of tears, recalling the sense of relief and love I felt.

"Of course, we came."

They poured into me.  They all hugged me and held on until I could let go.  At one point, I doubled over with tears, shame, guilt, and the weight of everything falling on me.  As pain poured out of my heart, my words struck a chord of fear.  Serving with these people in our church was where God had placed me, and all I could think was, "Now they will know I'm not fit to serve."  The darkness in me had me convinced that I'd said too much.  With penetrating eyes that spoke to me of their own conviction, they told me that all these things were a lie.  They saw me.  They heard me.  They held me.  As I fought my own mind, they fought with me.  They.  Fought.  For.  Me.

For an hour, God surrounded us in that parking lot.  We talked.  We listened.  We prayed.  Believe it or not, we ultimately laughed.  In the end, I told them, "I need to pray."  They had already prayed over me.  Now, it was my turn.  I don't recall my prayer, but I recall the peace that poured out of me by then.  The tears had flowed away.  I could stand.  I could breathe.  I could hope.  I could pray.  And God met me there in that parking lot, with three people who love me deeply.

Now I sit here listening to "You Raise Me Up" by Josh Groban.

When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary
When troubles come and my heart burdened be
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence
Until You come and sit awhile with me.

You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders
You raise me up to more than I can be

Zach, Wes, and Caitlin raised me up.  When I couldn't breathe.  When I couldn't pray.  When I couldn't see God.  They saw Him for me.  They held me up until I could feel His presence again.  I will never be the same again because of what God brought me through.  They continue to pray for me.  And we continue to serve God together.

Wes reminded me five days later that God can use me more because I emptied myself out that night - and that God then filled me up.  

I can't adequately express the importance of being in community, surrounding yourself with people who love God, and allowing yourself to be vulnerable and seen.  I sang "You Raise Me Up" in a karaoke bar 14 years ago because it was a beautiful song.  Now I will sing it because of these three friends whose love lifted me to God when I needed it most.  I love them more than I could ever show.

Fast forward...

At the time of this spiritual attack, I was working my way through a Certified Biblical Counseling course.  It felt that the closer I came to being finished, the harder life became.  The day I submitted my final paper to become certified, the storm cloud lifted.  It was literally as if a switch flipped in my brain.  Joy returned to my heart.  I could breathe.  I began to look back and almost felt silly that I was so overwhelmed.  There was simply no reason for me to have been experiencing that level of desperation.  It was unprecedented in my life.  God is so good.  He has restored me.  Personally understanding the nature of spiritual attacks has been something I have leaned on that has strengthened how God has used me in counseling ministry since this time.  I continue to be in awe of what he's done and is doing in my life.  What a mighty and faithful God we serve.  

Seeing and Being Seen

People feel invisible. 

Sometimes I am that person. 

I want to be seen and to see.  Both require something of me - to open my aperture.  It starts with my own choices.

Our perspective can be painfully microscopic, and we lose (or fail to develop) a sensitivity to those around us.  We get busy moving through the world, focused on ourselves, and often miss truly seeing people.  The truth is we frequently don't even see ourselves in the sea of expectations. While we can’t know everyone and the burdens they carry, we can have a heart that is open to seeing people how God sees them, and ask God to put people in our path whom we can acknowledge and encourage.  We can try to see the person God sees - both their brokenness and their potential. 

In those moments, both big and small, who we are called to be is not a mystery.  Jesus calls us to love others. God loves them.  He has always loved them, even the Sauls and the Matthews of the world, those who have persecuted others and taken advantage of people.  We are called to love them and we frequently forget that God loves us too, even through our sins. One way to love others is to see their struggles and their needs.  I don’t want to be invisible, so I will start by ensuring those around me know that I see them.  But how do I “see” them?

The chorus of the song “Give Me Your Eyes” by Brandon Heath, says:

Give me Your eyes for just one second

Give me Your eyes so I can see

Everything that I keep missin'

Give me Your love for humanity

Give me Your arms for the broken-hearted

The ones that are far beyond my reach

Give me Your heart for the ones forgotten

Give me Your eyes so I can see  

God “sees” us.  Psalms 121:7-8 says, “The Lord will keep you from all harm—he will watch over your life; the Lord will watch over your coming and going both now and forevermore.”   

We can start by asking God to make us sensitive and compassionate toward others around us.  Our prayer can be that God would slow us down so that we don’t miss opportunities to see others, and that when we do see them, God would show us how to love them better in a million different ways through our words and actions.  Is it a kind word?  Maybe a hug?  Perhaps a moment of prayer?  May we never be too busy for the Holy Spirit to speak to us and urge us toward another person, and for our response to be one of obedience and compassion.  Our ever-present prayer can be “give me your eyes, God.”   

What Matters Today & Tomorrow

What Matters Today

doing my dishes, over and over

washing, folding, and putting away the clothes

dropping off and picking up my son from silversmithing class

checking my e-mail

cooking meals...and planning more

walking the dogs

grocery shopping

cleaning the house 

paying bills

organizing next week's school schedule

telling them to stop talking and eat their food, stop arguing. . .

What Matters Tomorrow

watching Blues Clues

stopping to pet all the dogs at the park

strumming the threads of the spider web

watching the creek flow under the bridge

running under the red "magnets" (arches) at the park

stopping to admire the bamboo. . . and talk about pandas

wiping his runny nose, again and again

taking time for hugs and sugars to stave off a tantrum

celebrating with my son as he shows me his first silver creations

not making mountains out of molehills

telling them about Jesus

Surrogacy: The Hope of Giving Birth to My Niece or Nephew

On September 30, 2010, my sister Valerie, her husband Aaron, and I had an appointment at the Jones Institute for Reproductive Medicine. After years of trying to conceive and suffering a heart-wrenching number of unexplained miscarriages, they decided to take me up on my offer to be a surrogate for them. We headed to our appointment in torrential rain, feeling uncertain what the clinic would say about my suitability because of my age or medical history, including my recent bilateral mastectomy and upcoming reconstructive surgery. All our apprehensiveness would turn out to be unfounded.

After filling out tons of paperwork, consulting with the doctors, and both Valerie and I having ultrasounds, her for her ovaries and me for my uterus, we were given the green light. It turned out to be much easier than I thought. There will be lots of coordinating of schedules along the way, trips back and forth from Florida for both Aaron and Valerie, and probably some nail-biting, but we now have a time frame. In fact, we were certain they would have a reason to make us wait and were surprised when I was given my first prescription to be started the very next day! That night I headed out to the Wal-Mart pharmacy to turn in my prescription. We couldn't believe it. The transfer should be sometime around Thanksgiving, using her egg and his sperm.

On October 1, 2010, I zipped over to the pharmacy to pick up my meds, then crossed the parking lot and stopped in front of the pet store. I sat in my van with the first pill in my hand. Feeling overwhelmed by the emotional events of the previous two days, which included losing my beloved Shiba Kenji, being worried sick trying to find our Papillon Dexter, then the elation at finding him, I had to take a moment to pause and just breathe. The event I was about to mark was huge - so much bigger than me in that moment. The last nine months of my life had been wrapped up in one big exclamation point. Funny, nine months is the length of time most people associate with a pregnancy.

Holding that little, white, Progesterone pill in my hand represented the hopes and dreams of so many people, starting with my sister. It also guaranteed that the next year of my life would be no less emotional than the last. I could say that the next year will be wrapped up in a huge question mark. That thought didn't frighten me. I'm a Navy wife and therefore accustomed to question marks. :) One thing was certain, God is in control and will either use me to make my sister a mom or not. There I was, alone to ponder the enormity of the decision we'd all made together, my family and hers. I was thankful for those quiet moments. I prayed and gave the whole process to the Lord to make of it what He wills. Of course I also put in my personal request to finally become an aunt. :) How amazing just to think of having the opportunity to bring my niece or nephew into the world.

After praying, I threw back my water bottle and popped the pill in my mouth, thinking, "Here we go!"

The Day We Found Dexter

The morning after Kenji died we awoke at 7 am and prepared ourselves to search for Dexter. I had already prayed and asked God to protect him and bring him home. I didn't know what losing both of them would do to Koen. Dexter had been missing the whole night through horrible rains that had left Elizabeth City, N.C., severely flooded. By 7:30 am we were ready to go.

First, we went out and drove around the neighborhood again calling Dexter's name and whistling to no avail. Then we headed back to the house to call the Albemarle Pet Crematoria to find out about cremating Kenji. The funeral director was at our house within 15 minutes to pick him up. The whole thing seemed surreal and, though I was crying, I felt detached and numb.

Afterward, we left again to begin knocking on doors while we waited for the animal shelters and animal control to open. We started with our closest neighbor and planned to work our way down the street. At our neighbor's house we shared our news and she told us the hour she had last seen Dexter. She recommended we check across the street from her because he might have been able to get under a door that is left cracked open for their dog. Could he be in there? We left and went straight across. After showing Dexter's photo to the very nice lady, she told us her daughter had seen him running down the middle of the main road in front of our house. Traffic, she said, was stopping for him and he was running toward the gas station at the end of the road. Our road is highly traveled and has no shoulder, only deep ditches. That sighting was about 7 pm. I decided to abandon our door-to-door search and go instead to the gas station to show his photo to the staff.

No one at the station recognized Dexter, so Koen said, "What's next?" I quickly said, "Let's go down the street to Lamb's." Being early morning, I thought Lamb's convenience store and gas station might have lots of locals in and out. Maybe we could show his photo and get a hit. The two employees said they hadn't seen him, but a line of customers began turning their heads to look at the photo on my cell phone. The second lady in line said, "I saw him last night. He was diggin' in my trash." I was relieved! Her sighting had been later in the evening. As she was giving me details about where she lived, Koen began to yank vigorously on my shirt sleeve. I leaned over to him and he whispered excitedly in my ear, "I prayed and God told me this lady is going to lead us to Dexter!" He sounded as serious as a heart attack. We finished talking with the lady and made for the door.

Jogging to the van, Koen asked again, "What now?" I told him we were headed toward that lady's street. As we jumped in the van, he began saying, "I know we're going to find him! The last time he got out I found him sniffing in the flowers around a neighbor's mailbox." The tone in his voice was one that said he didn't believe that we would find Dexter later, but that we were literally going to go right then and pick him up. He was convinced that God was pointing us toward his best friend. Though I'm a Christian, I was skeptical. His faith was unshakable and I worried about what would happen if we never found Dexter, or worse, found him dead. Would that rattle his faith? Time was running out for my search because I had only an hour before having to leave for a doctor's appointment. My sister had coordinated her trip from Florida and we both had to be there. There was no way we could reschedule.

Turning onto the street where the lady lived, I slowed my speed and we began calling loudly for Dexter. After numerous houses, I saw a front door open and decided to stop. Another nice lady told me she hadn't seen him, but would be on the lookout. After a brief conversation we were back in the van. I backed out and was just picking up speed when I looked to the right and spotted him standing in a flower bed two doors down and across the street from the lady's house. I shouted, "DEXTER! DEXTER! There he is!" I couldn't park fast enough!

Whipping into the driveway, we both sprang from the van and bolted toward him. He was soaked to the bone, filthy, covered in fleas, and obviously injured. Three of his legs were skinned with patches of fur missing and he was barely walking toward us. In fact, he only stepped out of the flower bed and just stood on the sidewalk waiting for me to pick him up. He winced and yelped as I gently scooped him up, snuggling him into my chest. We made our way back to the van crying tears of joy. We climbed in and I passed Dexter over to Koen's lap. The smile on his face was priceless - pure joy!

Before we could even move another muscle I knew we had to stop and thank God for leading us to Dexter. We give Him all the credit. He derailed every plan I had for finding Dexter, which had included calling shelters and animal control and printing fliers to put up, among other things. Had I taken time to do those things we might have never found him.

It occurred to me later that Koen had had the faith to move a mountain. He prayed, believing, and he received. Later, he told me he had a new nickname for Dexter. He called him "The Miracle Dog". What was wrong with me? The night before as I stood contemplating whether to buy him a soft, new dog bed, I was certain I'd probably be wasting my money. I just couldn't bring myself to believe we'd find him alive and had decided against spending the money. Thankfully, Koen didn't share my skepticism.

All day I pondered the lesson I'd learned from my 10 year-old son. I ponder it still. I want to have the faith of a child, my child. Someone later commented that it was my determination that led us to Dexter. However determined I might have been, without God my little man would not be sleeping in his bed tonight with his best friend. I give it all to Him who has given all for me. I'm so thankful for the prayers lifted up by our family and friends. They were all used by God to sustain us through a frighteningly uncertain time.

The sight of Koen and his best buddy together again gives me peace. Dexter's presence has helped to soften the blow of Kenji's death. We all have been reminded that life is short and that we need to cherish and give time to those we love. I'm grateful that we have more time to love Dexter. Now we just need to pamper him until he's well and running circles around us again.


Koen reading with Dexter, August 22, 2009.

Putting Out Fires...a.k.a. Twin Issues

We’ve been on a mission lately to resolve some issues we’ve had with the twins. It all started with napping, but we’ve learned so many things along the way.

At first we were having some difficulty in putting the babies down for the evening in the same room. The problem was that Karter goes to sleep easily, but Lisse makes lots of noise and cries enough to wake him up again. It was becoming a vicious cycle. We decided to try moving his bed into another room to resolve the problem. Voila! Karter was sleeping quickly and lengthy. Lisse on the other hand was still having issues going to sleep.

This brings us to issue number two: Lisse not going to sleep. We began rocking her to sleep in the living room rocker, then lying her down in her bed. No sooner would her head hit the pillow then she would bolt back up crying. This too was a vicious cycle. It killed our backs to stand at her bedside and continue rocking her until she was literally snoring. Only then could we lay her down and be certain that she wouldn’t come back up.

Let me just say that during the day I have no problems putting her down. Of course this was a learning process as well and at one time involved too many tears. Now she takes her bottle, sits with me for a couple minutes while I talk softly to her, then we stroll to her room and I rub her pillow and say, “pillow”. She recently even leaned toward her bed! Normally she’s crying when I leave the room and quiet within a few minutes and asleep in less than five. How perplexing it was then that for bedtime Lisse became an entirely different creature. Then it dawned on me...it’s the light. She can’t go to sleep in a dark room. I wouldn’t necessarily characterize it as being afraid of the dark, but accustomed to a norm of going to sleep in a brighter room. The first night we turned on the lamp, we went into the kitchen and listened to her cry mildly and intermittently. We stood in the kitchen and prayed to God that He would put her to sleep, giving her and us some much needed rest. Again, voila! Suddenly she’s as easy to put down at night as she is during the day.

Now on to crisis number...I don’t even know what! Two days ago, Karter didn’t want his afternoon or evening bottle. Both times he pushed them away after barely a sip. Him not taking the afternoon bottle didn’t particularly bother me, but once he skipped the evening one I became concerned. If you know Karter, you know this is very out of character for him.

In the middle of the night he awoke and would not go back to sleep the way he normally does. Usually I can put his pacifier back in his mouth, rub his back, and he quickly goes back to sleep. Not last night! He seemed wide awake. I tried for a few minutes to cradle him to no avail. Okay, so maybe now he was finally wanting a bottle? Arie jaunted to the kitchen and back, determined to get him a bottle made quickly before his crying escalated. When I first put the bottle to his lips he had the same reaction, one sip before pushing it away. The second time I put it to his lips, it was like the seas had parted and he devoured the whole thing! Whew! Arie was able to go back to sleep, Karter passed-out again quickly and went back down with no problem, then I was out as well.

Act two...Karter wakes again at about 4:30 to 5 am. I’m not sure since I couldn’t see the clock. I cradled and snuggled and again he was needing a bottle. At that point, Arie was going to be up in 30 minutes getting ready for work and I was trying not to disturb his last minutes of sleep. I jogged once more to the kitchen, rushing to make a bottle and get back. As I turned from the sink, shaking the bottle, I was met at the corner of the fridge by Arie asking what I was doing. Uh...yeah, he was obviously still asleep and actually doesn’t even remembering meeting me in the kitchen. Together we rushed back to Karter, I lifted him from his bed and administered said bottle hoping he would not turn it down. Again, he downed the bottle in record time. Having made that particular bottle myself, it finally occurred to me what the problem has been all along. In my haste to make the bottle, I hadn’t taken the time to let the water warm-up. Apparently, here in lies the problem...Karter no longer likes warm bottles. This has proven true with each bottle since. Crisis averted!

Many of the last week’s nights have been spent sleeping on Lisse’s bedroom floor, propped in my bed holding Karter, or sitting on my bathroom floor rocking him and trying desperately not to wake Arie. Now with both babies current issues understood and under control, I’m hoping to spend my first good night of sleep in more than a week in my own bed. I keep telling myself that this is only temporary. Like all things it too will pass. I know eventually I’ll look back and long for these times. Reminding myself of that helps me cope during the times when my back is killing me and I’m feeling overwhelmed by all the needs of those around me for whom I’m responsible. I even think of Nadia Suleman (Octomom) and her brood. I can’t even imagine being in her shoes! Anytime I think of her it’s easy to be thankful for my situation.

Man am I looking forward to having a good night’s sleep!

My Miscarriage and How I Nearly Missed a Blessing

I was recently thinking about pride when a new acquaintance said to me, "I have a hard time accepting favors from people. It's not that I'm prideful." Why else would a person be unable to accept a gift, favor, or graciousness from another? Does it really all come down to that? Pride?

Let me recall the summer of 2007 . . .

I was 3.5 months pregnant and happy to be over the "hump." You know, the three-month "everything should be fine now" hump. I was feeling great when I headed in for a check-up appointment. In fact, I was feeling so great that I didn't really feel pregnant, but rather normal. I shared this with my doctor, who unbeknownst to me was immediately alarmed. She searched for a heartbeat to no avail, then led me to the ultrasound machine, which confirmed my worst fear. I had miscarried. My body didn't trigger any obvious symptoms when the baby had died roughly two weeks previously, so I had no idea. I sat there with my 7-year-old son in the room, trying to be as stoic as possible, but I was devastated. We had tried for 5 years to have more children. I would have to have a D&C the following Monday and so would have to spend the weekend knowing the baby inside me had died and was still there. It was a horribly emotional time, exacerbated by the fact that a good friend came home during that time with her newborn baby girl. My heart broke as I held her on Saturday, only days after my appointment and two days before my scheduled surgery.

Sunday morning I awoke numb. I tried half-heartedly to get myself ready for church so that I could lead the music. I knew my friend would be there with her baby and felt certain that I would not be able to sing a clear note through tears. Others would be there to celebrate the gift of life - the life of my friend's precious baby girl. There was no doubt in my mind that I would distract from what should be a joyous occasion. I opted not to go to church.

Minutes after the service should have begun, there was a knock at our door. Much to my surprise, it was Chaplain Shafer! Why was he not at the service, leading his flock? He stepped into our living room and asked how I was feeling. Again, stoicism kicked in and I tried to hide the extent of my pain. I shared with him my concern about distracting from the miracle of the newest edition to our church. I also think I didn't want anyone to see me in my emotional state. I was supposed to be someone strong in their faith, but where was it then? I thought I was lacking and didn't want to show myself so weak in faith. What he said to me next opened my eyes to a truth that hadn't even occurred to me. He said I understand your reason for not coming and respect your decision. He went on to ask me if I didn't think it was possible that the love our church had was enough to both rejoice in the birth of a child and mourn the death of another? I was taken aback at the thought. We prayed together and he walked out to join our congregation, already roughly twenty minutes into the service.

I sat for a moment and cried, convicted that I was not where God wanted me to be. I was the sheep going astray, whom the pastor left the 99 for and went to find. I shot upstairs, threw my shoes on, and ran to the chapel up the street. I walked in wearing shorts, a t-shirt, sneakers, no make-up, and swollen eyes - stripped bare of any facade. I realized that there was no reason to hide myself away or present myself as unfazed.

My friend, holding her new baby, met me ten steps into the sanctuary and wrapped her arms around me. We held each other, both crying, as we sang the last verse of a hymn into one another's ears. Afterward, the whole church sat back down. I made my way to the second pew and took a seat with my head hanging low. I was trying to dry my tears when I noticed that the entire congregation began standing and one by one moved to take seats all around me and my friend. Within a moment, the hands of so many who loved me began to touch my shoulders and arms and that of my friend too. The chaplain stopped in his tracks and came forward. As all my brothers and sisters in Christ surrounded us, the chaplain prayed. I'd never felt so loved.

I cried softly off and on through the rest of the service. During the service, the words of a Casting Crowns song came to my mind, "Praise You in This Storm."

I was sure by now, God, that You would have reached down
and wiped our tears away,
stepped in and saved the day.
But once again, I say amen
and it's still raining
as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain,
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away.

Chorus:
And I'll praise you in this storm
and I will lift my hands
for You are who You are
no matter where I am
and every tear I've cried
You hold in your hand
You never left my side
and though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry to You
and raised me up again
my strength is almost gone how can I carry on
if I can't find You
and as the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
"I'm with you"
and as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise
the God who gives and takes away

Chorus

I lift my eyes onto the hills
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth
I lift my eyes onto the hills
where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth

Chorus

The service was coming to an end and I asked the chaplain if I could share my heart with the congregation. I could barely speak, but what I shared was this:
My heart is broken and I've cried until I feel my heart will stop beating. Living with a baby inside me who is no longer living is nearly unbearable. I don't understand. I may never understand. BUT, I know I can't thank God for the good times and curse Him in the bad. Like the song says, ". . . my strength is almost gone how can I carry on if I can't find You? And as the thunder rolls I barely hear You whisper through the rain 'I'm with you'. And as Your mercy falls I raise my hands and praise the God who gives and takes away." I will praise God even through this.

The service ended with the whole congregation gathered at the front of the church, wrapped in each other's arms, crying tears of both pain and joy. At that moment, I realized a very important lesson. Had I not gone to church, I would have robbed my brothers and sisters in Christ of an opportunity to be there for me, to love me, share my burden, and live their faith in Christ. How could I have taken that from them when I have been blessed in the past to be there for others? I didn't realize until then that my not being at church, though understandable and forgivable, was actually selfish. My stoicism was prideful and nearly stole from me the blessings God had in store for me as a result of the "storm."

I prayed and asked God to remove my desire for more children until such a time that it was His will, not mine if in fact that day ever came. Not only did He take away my yearning, but He placed a thankfulness in my heart that I had not given birth. My heart did a complete 180 - I was actually relieved! I began to embrace being a mom of one and feeling truly blessed. This was August of 2007. 

More than a year later, in October 2008, I began to feel stirrings of motherhood again. I prayed again and asked God to turn my heart if it was His timing. We began trying again in November to get pregnant and learned in December that we were indeed pregnant. In January we found we were pregnant with twins. I felt it was God's way of blessing us because of our miscarriage. He loved, healed, and restored me.

There are many things about life that I will never know or understand, but one thing is sure - I will continue to raise my hands to the one who gives and takes away, for it's His will, His plan, and not mine that is perfect and that I should strive for.

Answered Prayer - No Coincidences

Koen and I prayed this morning after his Bible study. We asked God to use us to bless anyone we came into contact with today. Here is how God answered that prayer...

We have new neighbors. They are here from mainland Japan as well. They have a nine year-old boy and are also pregnant with twins, about three weeks behind us. We met them just tonight. I liked the parents. They were easy to talk with. And Koen? I honestly can't remember the last time Koen connected with another boy like he did with Micah. They were instantly pals. Koen says the boy is a "Class II Koen." Translation? "He is almost as creative and imaginative as me." He had SO much fun in the 1.5 hours we spent with that family. They are excited to get together again. We wound up walking them around the base and showed them where to find some groceries and other services.

Then...

A lady knocked on our door today. She was looking for the Stork's Nest office (the place we're staying.) It turns out she's trying to track down premie clothes for a friend who just had her baby at 26 weeks (not even a full pound). I invited her in so I could get her number. She made a comment that triggered my radar. Something just any other person wouldn't say. I could tell she was a military widow. Once I asked her, she told me she was married to a marine who died in Iraq four years ago and is now remarried to another marine. Of course, I shared my story, briefly, with her. She had never met anyone else who had been through any of that. She was surprised to find that I understood a lot of what she said. We only spoke about 30 minutes before she left. We traded numbers as well.

Backing up...

Last night, we went to AWANA. (The Bible based kids' club at the church.) While Koen was in his club, I went to an adult bible study. I turned off my cell phone so that I wouldn't disturb anyone. Well, after meeting the premie person above, I made a call to the chaplain's wife, whom we'd met on Sunday. I wanted to ask if she could pass the word that someone was in need of premie clothes, which are impossible to find here. She thought I was calling her back. Apparently, she had left me two messages earlier today saying she was going to the commissary and asking if I wanted to join her. Here's the amazing thing about that...

The lady who knocked on my door stepped in so I could get her number. I established in a moment that she was widowed at the same age I was. I asked her if she wanted something to drink and had time to stay and chat a little. She said, "Yes, but I have to leave by 12:30". I turned to look at the clock and it was 11:58 am. Guess what time the chaplain's wife had called me, according to my cell phone? Yep, 11:58. I was awed. The distraction of a ringing phone would likely have prevented the connection with this stranger.

The lady had shared with me that she struggled with God when her husband died. How could a loving God...? You can imagine the rest of that sentence. Well, at one point I said to her, "It was divine intervention that we met today." She knocked on the wrong door. Instead of walking away, she told me why she was looking for the Stork's Nest manager. Instead of simply directing her to the correct building, I offered to get involved and ask around for premie clothes. Why would I do that considering I know almost no one here? Instead of dropping the subject when she inadvertently let me know she was a widow, I asked the sensitive question. Instead of her avoiding the conversation, she embraced the opportunity to talk with me more. As she was leaving at 12:30, with a slightly sarcastic tone I said to her, "And people say there is no God." She agreed. To God be the glory, great things He hath done...and continues to do!

Overcoming Me

One day my soul woke up - and it was fat! It didn’t happen overnight. I wasn’t always fat. I had spent the last eleven years eating emotionally. It started with my husband’s death. We had been newlyweds. Emotional eating stayed with me long after my wounds began to heal and even after I remarried. It had become a habit. I had a clue that I was hurting myself, but I felt powerless to overcome it. Food held control over my life, but I was ready to live differently. There was a glimmer of hope that my life could be different. Then Spark People showed up with a soft knock and an invitation, “Can Audri come out and play?” This began a journey of self-discovery I never could have imagined. See, I didn’t realize my personality and my future were being slowly buried!

Spark People helped me realize for the first time that to be successful I had to make some serious changes. It wasn’t enough to make a New Year’s resolution and hope for the best. I had to truly commit myself to being different, but first I had to believe it was possible. There were some things I knew to be true, so that is where I began. I knew I had not always been fat. I knew others had overcome even greater weight obstacles than mine. Mostly, I knew that through my faith, I could lean on a very special promise – “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me,” Philippians 4:13, if this is something God is bringing me to. After acknowledging these things, I felt prepared to commit myself to whatever it took to conquer myself. Within a week, I came to understand there were four strategies I would need to use to set myself up for success.

First, I had to honestly assess my battle with food. My “if they don’t see me eat it, it doesn’t count” attitude had to go! Using the nutrition tracker, I took a close look at my food choices, and my eyes were opened! Over time, I chose to eliminate caffeine, table salt, alcohol, sodas, and excessively high-fat, high-calorie foods from my nutrition plan. Some were harder to let go than others, but one by one they fell by the wayside in exchange for healthier options.

Second, I had to stop hiding my struggle. Those who loved me had known all along anyway – my size 18 wasn’t a good disguise. I was only fooling myself. I realized I had fallen into a habit of secretly losing a little weight with the hope that others would notice. When the loss wasn’t noticed, I would become discouraged and eventually quit. I decided to try a different approach and bring my family and friends into the program with me. This way, I was encouraged and held accountable. Eventually, I joined a team and even started one of my own.

Third, I had to have goals to work toward. I set concrete short, medium, and long-range goals based on my interests. Some I knew were attainable, like doing cardio four days each week. Some were a stretch for me, but also attainable with hard work, like climbing Mt. Fuji. I needed to have something on the horizon to aim at, a target. It was important to have it close enough that I could focus on it, unlike looking at my overall weight loss goal. If I had begun by focusing on losing the whole 70 pounds, I would have become overwhelmed and possibly quit.

Fourth, I set a concrete plan in motion to help me succeed. I wrote out my plan on my Spark Page to keep myself accountable. This included making my nutrition and fitness trackers public, so others could see what I was tracking. I devoted myself to following my plan, even on the days when I wanted to quit. I determined there were only two choices: to quit or keep going – and quitting wasn’t an option.

Along the way, a funny thing happened. I found myself! Each honest step I took loosened the control food had on me. Once I began to see the fruits of my labor I realized that I could have done it all along. I had been making excuses and giving away my freedom to choose a better life. Through overcoming the old me, I realized that my personality had been stifled. I wasn’t energetic enough to be on the outside the person I was on the inside. Now, I have a zeal that was lost for years. I am alive! I’ve even tackled new physical challenges and along the way come to think of myself as an athlete. That’s amazing to me!

Perhaps the greatest consequence of my weight loss (59 lbs. to date) is that I have the ability to speak into the lives of others in a meaningful way. I never thought I would see the day when others would call me an inspiration. Living as a fat person enabled me to relate to the “fat struggle.” I guess those eleven fat years weren’t completely wasted after all.

Where Does Happiness Come From?

I used to search for happiness. Everywhere I looked left me empty. At this point in my life, I can say I am truly happy. What changed? I invited God into my life. What a fundamental change!

Even after finding peace with God, I used to think at times that I would be happy in spite of the difficulties in my life. Now I've come to think of those difficulties in an entirely new light. I can embrace them, being happy through them, not in spite of them. I don't have to rush through them to get to the happiness on the other side. Today I soak up the opportunities to learn and grow along the way.

Happiness is a state of mind. The difference for me is that now my mind is set on God's perception of my life - not my own.

Where Am I Going?

Where am I going?

The baseball great, Yogi Berra, once said, "If you don't know where you are going, you'll end up someplace else." This is a theme I've been meditating on recently.

The path of least resistance always takes the easy way. For those of us on this journey to a healthy lifestyle, the easy way has not and will not work. There is no such thing as a quick fix. It's not just about losing weight, but about changing our lives. How will we do that if we don't know where we're going - if we don't have a plan?

For years, I didn't know where I was going. I let life take me wherever it would. My days slipped by, often unproductively, and turned into years. Before I knew it, I was 205 pounds and feeling hopeless, like my weight was beyond my control. My focus was on other things in life: getting married, having a baby, going to college. All these are beautiful life events - events I let overshadow my need for healthy living. I didn't have the knowledge back then to live healthy. I was putting my brain power into other things.

In the last ten years, I have learned a few things. Most recently, I have learned that if I don't choose a direction for my life, life will choose it for me. A wise person once said, "In the absence of clearly defined goals, we become strangely loyal to performing daily acts of trivia." I've been performing those daily acts of trivia for far too long. The time for change has come!

I'm no longer satisfied with the status quo. Though it served its purpose for a season of my life, there is something more, some purposeful and meaningful I am being called to. All my life's experiences are calling out to me - "use me."

I know that God is calling on me to "prune" my life in order to be more productive. In two days, I will head to Tokyo for a symposium. For three days I will spend time focusing on the direction God has for me. Afterward, it is my sincere hope and prayer that He will give me the strength to cut out of my life whatever is obscuring my view of His goal, His will. I don't want to end up "someplace else." I want to be right where I'm supposed to be - doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

Bring on the change!