Parenting is exhausting. What do you do when you have extreme fatigue and illness dragging at you?  It is easy to tell yourself, “just one more thing” or “I’ll figure a way to make it happen.”  Then you have the pressures from our loved ones. A child not understanding why mommy can’t come out to play.  A husband who just came home from work and doesn’t understand why dinner isn’t done.

Are we failing in some way? In many ways? I sometimes think that.  I always think “I should….”  or “I could..”, “If I was super mom I would”  I call it the ‘oulds. Those things that didn’t get done that leave you feeling guilty.   Are we super women? No,  sadly we are not and despite what the TV would have you believe neither is the next door neighbor.  So revel in your lack of a cape. Let go of the guilt. The Lord has no intention of you sitting  around crying for one of the ‘oulds!

So you have fatigue problems. I do too, and it can destroy a day. While sick this past winter I was able to get from my bed to the couch. That was it.  I slept for the day. Not well, with that type of fatigue sleep no matter how much you sleep it is never enough.  I was only able to rely on  my hubby to take over the kids. When I had to tell a child that I was too tired I always hugged them and asked them to pray for me. I told them the truth, that I wanted to get up but mommy’s body was too tired.

Children can better wrap their mind around a problem if you give them a solution. I told them to pray. My children love God and believe that the Lord will heal me. That was something they could trust in.  By hugging them and letting them know that I wasn’t happy too. The situation became mommy is not sleep because she wants to but because she is sick.

Be open with your husband and  tell him how you are feeling. Don’t expect his ESP to pick up on your slumped shoulder or cough to let him know. My hubby always tells me to talk to him and try to be precise. Like are your legs jittery? For him I believe it is because he is a fixer. Present a problem and he works out a solution. Most men are that problem oriented.

Even if you are left without the energy to help with the house or other normal “wife ” duties. Try to uphold your Biblical wife duties. That is to support your husband. Be of a mild, joyful manner so that he is uplifted by your very presence.  Together a wife and husband are incredibly strong even when one is sick. Think why else would Satan be trying so desperately to destroy that which God has put together. He knows that two in Christ are ten times stronger and will grow stronger as time passes.

Chronic fatigue is a limitation but it is not an end to a quality family life.  Take time to enjoy your children. Let them know how much you can do in advance, such as mommy can play cards with you but I can’t go to the park. Talk to your husband be clear and loving. Trust that he will protect and help you through you troubled times. Uphold him so that he knows you will support and encourage him at all times. Trust in the Lord.

Heather Laurie is a christian wife, and mother to 5 children and 2 angels. She suffered with an unknown illness most of her life recently finding out she had lupus and a genetic disorder. Her children also have that genetic disorder. The Lord has led Heather and her husband Chris through these experiences to create a ministry dedicated to serving those with special needs. You can find them at www.LaurieFamilyMinistries.org or www.SpecialNeedsHomeschooling.com

Laurie Family Ministries

Grief

When in my soul bone rasps on bone the hollow ache of loss
The muffled desperation nails my spirit to the cross.
Cries swell imprisoned in my throat, the strength’s not there to scream.
I clamber nightmare days in hopeless hunger for a dream

And in the many ways I walk down low to reach the bottom stair
I hear His still small voice repeat, “Dear Child, I have heard your prayer.
Then His tiniest, but mightiest angels take the strands of what’s not there
And weave a living miracle in the mist of mourning prayer

HIS PROMISE TO ME
I will anoint your days with quiet prayer and gentle praise of Me,
Peace as lacy fragrance floating blossoms in a breeze,
Whispering perfume of grace to every eye who sees
The splendor of My Son,
Whose Light will heal you whole!
Through your many tears His Glory beams a rainbow in your soul.

Ronda Feuerstack, ©1992

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Two Special Horses

Just up the road from my home is a field, with two horses in it.
From a distance, each horse looks like any other horse.
But if you stop your car, or are walking by, you will notice something quite amazing…
Looking into the eyes of one horse will disclose that he is blind.
His owner has chosen not to have him put down, but has made a good home for him.

This alone is amazing.

If you stand nearby and listen, you will hear the sound of a bell.
Looking around for the source of the sound, you will see that it comes from the smaller horse in the field.
Attached to the horse’s halter is a small bell.
It lets the blind friend know where the other horse is, so he can follow.

As you stand and watch these two friends,
You’ll see that the horse with the bell is always checking on the blind horse,
And that the blind horse will listen for the bell and then slowly walk
To where the other horse is,
Trusting that he will not be led astray.

When the horse with the bell returns
To the shelter of the barn each evening,
It stops occasionally and looks back,
Making sure that the blind friend isn’t too far behind to hear the bell.

Like the owners of these two horses,
God does not throw us away just because we are not perfect
Or because we have problems or challenges.

He watches over us and even brings others into our lives
To help us when we are in need.

Sometimes we are the blind horse
Being guided by the little ringing bell of those who God places in our lives.
Other times we are the guide horse, helping others to find their way….

Good friends are like that.
You may not always see them, but you know they are always there.
Please listen for my bell and I’ll listen for yours.

And remember…
Be kinder than necessary-
Everyone you meet is fighting
Some kind of battle.
Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly…….

And leave the rest to God!

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When Lorilyn adopted her daughter from Nepal, she didn’t realize the medical ordeal she would face. Read more about the filming and Marisha, at Lorilyn Robert’s blog.

By Lorilyn Roberts

“I feel a pulse,” one of the medics said.

The paramedics worked feverishly on Manisha to make sure she was still alive. My beautiful seven‐year‐old daughter from Nepal lay on the floor unconscious at the O’Connell Center of the University of Florida.

“Has she ever had a seizure?” another one asked.

“No, no,” I said in bewilderment. Manisha rolled over and vomited.

One emotion consumed me: Fear. The enormity of single parenting hit me like lightening. I cried out, “Where are you, God? I feel so alone.”

After hooking up stabilizing IVs, Manisha was whisked off in an ambulance to Shands Teaching Hospital. I found a pay phone and called my mother. Her first comment was, “Do you know what day this is?”

I remembered—September 19. Four years to the day and almost to the hour, my father had died of a brain tumor. It was about 5:00 p.m. My shattered world continued to close in on me. A short time later my worst fears were confirmed.

“There is something on the CAT scan. We have a called a neurologist,” I heard the nurse say.

“No, no, no,” every cell in my body cried out. “God, you can’t let this happen. Not again!”

But God was silent. The next nine days of hospitalization were filled with tests—MRI, gallium scan, spinal tap, TB test, HIV test, numerous blood draws, and too many questions and not enough answers by doctors doing their daily rounds with medical students in tow. Manisha had what in medical parlance is called a “zebra.”

As the days passed in the hospital, I asked God for two things that humanly speaking seemed impossible. I prayed first that the doctors would not have to do surgery. I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Manisha’s beautiful thick, curly black hair shaved off. The ugly scars of surgery still lingered in my mind from my dad’s brain surgery. And I prayed that whatever was in Manisha’s head would not be cancerous. I had asked God to heal my father of a brain tumor and he died. Could I trust God for Manisha’s healing?

It was critical that the doctor’s make the correct diagnosis. The wrong treatment could kill her. Did she have a malignant brain tumor or a worm inside her head? Manisha had been adopted by me from Nepal at the age of three—old enough to be exposed to the extreme poverty of Nepal and lack of clean drinking water. 57.1 percent of the water in Nepal is considered unsatisfactory for human consumption, contaminated with feces.

Manisha’s condition turned out to be caused by a tapeworm infection of the brain—the most common parasitic infection of the nervous system. The larvae can travel anywhere in the body—the muscles, brain, eye, and other structures. The condition, known as neurocysticercosis, is still relatively rare in this country, but is appearing more on the radar as part of the differential diagnosis for seizures.
Thankfully, twelve years later, Manisha is a healthy, well‐adjusted 19‐year‐old finishing her A.A. degree at Santa Fe College—six months ahead of schedule.

International adoptive parents and travelers to the developing world should seek appropriate medical care upon returning to the U.S. if they have been exposed to poor sanitary conditions or contaminated water.

In spite of the trials of single parenting, the years following that dreadful day of September 19, 1994, have been filled with life and joy. Manisha soon will be leaving home to make her own way in the world and I reflect on her middle name Hope—with God, there is always hope, and for that I am thankful.

The book, Children of Dreams tells the complete story, available at Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, and your local bookstores.

Lorilyn Roberts graduated Magna Cum Laude from the University of Lorilyn Roberts graduated Magna Cum Laude from the University of Alabama and is currently working on her Master of Arts in Creative Writing from Perelandra College. As a Certified Court Reporter, Lorilyn has made contributions to the National Court Reporters Association Journal. She provides realtime broadcast captioning for television. Lorilyn’s first book, The Donkey and the King, is a beautifully illustrated children’s book. She also coleads Word Weavers in Gainesville, FL. When not writing, taking graduate classes, or closed captioning for television/web, Lorilyn homeschools her younger daughter, Joy. Enter a drawing for a free copy of Children of Dreams on Lorilyn’s website and blog. The drawing will be on September 1, 2010. :

I had joint replacement surgery on four fingers in November 2009 and was feeling a bit bummed out that after months of therapy, I was leaving the office with something on my hand now called a “finger splint” that never should have been there.

My therapist was trying to downplay it but it felt like someone had wrapped a big piece of duct tape around my fingers.

What I currently wear every day

The surgery had not been as successful as surgeon, rheumatologist, or hand therapist had hoped. My range of movement was much less than they had anticipated, despite my wearing the large outrigger splint 12 weeks instead of 6 and doing all of my exercises.

In the end one finger, my “ring finger,” was crooked. It sticks up too far. It pops in and out of place. It is a silicone joint that is permanently in the wrong location. It won’t “slip back into place.” And yes, it drives me nutty.

To most people, my finger just appears slightly curved–no big deal, right? But I can’t really bend it down, which means I don’t really have a grasp with my hand. My other fingers get lost when the ring finger muscle it constantly determined to ride an invisible wave. I can’t grasp the steering wheel of the car or pick up something.

And it’s as though my hand gets tired, the ring finger always wanting all the attention. It sends little signals to my brain like a hyper poodle in her puppy years: “It’s me, pick me up, look at me, can we play? Come on, please, please?”

All through months of therapy I had jokingly said, “I just need a bigger diamond for my wedding band, right? Can you write a prescription for my husband for that?” I didn’t even care if it was a real stone. I just wanted weight.

So, this is how I ended up with what they call a “finger splint,” a long piece of medical material (that my husband would love to get his hands on to use for models). They heat it and then wrap it around your fingers to form a splint.

“Just think of it like a girdle” the therapist smiled. “This is a FOREVER kind of thing.”

“There is a REASON I don’t wear girdles!” I insisted (also with a smile.)

So, that’s where my head was as I left. Annoyed at the botched surgery.

The week previously I had seen the surgeon’s x-rays. In the surgery room the x-ray looked fine. A week later, it was crooked. It was why I had signed on the dotted line before surgery I understood there was no guarantee. It is what it is.

So I drove over to Michael’s craft store and found a sticky strip of fake tiny rhinestones. I trimmed it down and put it on the splint. Much improved. And since the medical material tends to turn an ugly dark ivory, toasted marshmallow color, it would help people see the glitz and not the “dirt.”

A few hours later I went to Walmart and as I walked by a girl about twelve she exclaimed, “Oh! I love your ring!” I paused and looked down and then did a quick explanation that was totally confusing and unnecessary. But in the end I told her, “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

The Outrigger Splint - worn 12 weeks 24/7

I updated the photo of my outrigger splint on Facebook to my finger splint and people said I had “pimped” my assistive device. I had never thought anything I did would be described as “pimping” but there ya go. Life is odd.

I’m still wearing it. I’m on my second one now. I have ordered a sterling silver finger ring splint that didn’t fit, got re-measured by my therapist, and have sent it back now to be melted down and get a different kind of ring and size. To the right you can see what my first one looked like. The black and white photos down below shoes what the next one will look like that I will try.

The other option is to go see a different surgeon and see what is involved in re-doing surgery on this finger. That is my plan (after dental work and cataract surgery).

One day my husband said, “Did you see People magazine? There is a ring in there like yours!” Yep, leave it to Rihanna to make a 2-finger ring popular. I was hip, right? Wrong. The article stated:

“. . . two years ago, you couldn’t watch an episode of The Hills without catching a glimpse of Lauren Conrad’s knuckle-duster name ring. Well, now TV stars and singers alike just can’t get enough of the two-finger accessory. Thin and feminine designs work best—and keep it to just two fingers. A row full of knuckles guarantees you a Fashion DUI.”

Fashion DUI. Now I was pimping and had a fashion DUI. I wonder what the people on “What Not To Wear” would think of my black, bulky, diabetic Mary Jane shoes?

And some of you may even agree. Hating my puffy prednisone face, I had temporarily made my Facebook profile photo a picture of this amazing crafty finger splint. When I changed it back to a photo of my face you said, “Oh good, I was so tired of looking at your fingers and that painful splint!”

It's trendy! 1 star for each joint replaced, maybe?

Little did you know you were seeing art in action, though, huh? Because as I was writing this article, I found a new Hollywood attitude. Here is the article with some photos if you are interested in joining my fad, Multi Finger Rings That Pack A Punch!

Fashion Allure says:

“Flaunt your street cred with an extravagant hip hop style. With celebrity clientele including Rihanna, Megan Fox, Alicia Keys and Fergie, a two-finger, three-finger and four-finger ring is all the craze right now! Meant to be worn simultaneously on multiple fingers, the multi-finger ring is providing for a flashy and a truly dramatic look.”

So, now, with just a click of a mouse, I can define myself as flashy and dramatic. But what on earth is my street cred? What actually is a street cred? I had to look that up. Urban dictionary says, “Commanding a level of respect in an urban environment due to experience in or knowledge of issues affecting those environments; imaginary ‘points’ you get when you do something cool.”

Hmmm. . . don’t know if I qualify in the sense they mean. I suppose in the patient community, however, I’ve got me some “street cred”–if you can get “points” for joint replacement surgery. Can I have one for each finger I had replaced?

The article also says, “This playful and trendy ring type will get you maximum of desired attention. Hurry up and get one before it’s gone!”

Well, who knew? Do I really want that kind of attention? I’m asking myself, do I really want to look like the kind of person who wears brass knuckles? And do they mean, “hurry” because the rings will be gone? Or the trend? Probably the trend.

And I will once again be committing a fashion faux pa.

The bummer part is all these fashionistas get to take it the rings off when they start to feel uncomfortable. I imagine I feel a bit like how people with migraines don’t want to hear about how someone’s head band or pony tail is giving them a headache.

Overall, am looking forward to receiving my next ring in the mail and seeing what it feels like. With rheumatoid arthritis, any ring is hard to fit, when your hands swell and knuckles flare. But I am getting weary of having to clean my little medical ring with toothpaste to get rid of the stink. . . I mean scent.

Sterling silver will be a huge improvement and who knows? Maybe I will just look like a 40-something mom who is hip enough to wear what somebody from some show called “The Mountains” is wearing–I mean “The Hills.”

Whatever!

___________________________________

Looking for a splint for some kind of deformation of your hands? The story behind Silver Ring Splint company is interesting! The web site states:

In 1974, occupational therapist Cynthia Garris was forced to take a new look at splint therapy – in that year, she was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis. She had long believed in the value of splinting, but soon realized that none of the existing technologies addressed the long-term use of splints. While plastic splints were fine for treating short-term trauma, no one would willingly use this cumbersome and embarrassing solution for the remainder of their lifetime. In 1985, she set out to design and manufacture a new series of splints that were both more effective and far more attractive than the splints then in use. In the process, she revolutionized every aspect of splint therapy.

Lisa Copen is the founder of Rest Ministries and is in the process of getting ready for National Invisible Chronic Illness Awareness Week!

“It’s hard to feel beautiful when I have so many physical problems!”

There, I said it. I didn’t want to admit that, but it’s something I struggle with every second of the day. I tend to think back to when I was thinner, healthier, and prettier. I compare myself to every woman I meet. Although, just because someone is picture-perfect on the outside doesn’t mean he or she is beautiful on the inside, or that things are going great.

God says in His Word that He doesn’t look at the outward appearance like man does; He looks at the heart (1 Samuel 16:7). Our character, values, intelligence, and relationship with God are what make us beautiful. Scripture reminds us that, “Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised” (Proverbs 31:30).

I know these verses by memory. I know these verses in my heart. So why is it so hard to accept that I’m beautiful just the way I am – physical limitations and all? I guess it’s because I take man’s opinion more than I trust God’s truth. This was hard to admit as well.

I know that whatever God creates is beautiful and exactly the way it’s supposed to be. When I stop and think about the people I find most beautiful, its people who are God-honoring, self-sacrificing, kind, compassionate, and patient. That’s the kind of woman I strive to be. I don’t base my friendships on how thin someone is or how attractive they are – I base my friendships on who they are as a person.

I am beautiful not because of what I have done or what I look like; I am beautiful because God made me beautiful and in His image. What a marvelous concept! Maybe you’re down on yourself today. Stop and meditate on God’s Word and thank Him for being the master artist that He is!

Prayer: Dear God, knowing that you made me with perfect hands is humbling. May your love overflow from my heart and may your beauty continue to shine in my life. Amen.

About the author
Bridget Gazlay resides in the beautiful West Michigan. She struggles with Fibromyalgia, Endometriosis, IBS, arthritis and migraines. She works full time but writes and designs fabric cards on the side. Bridget’s prayer is that readers who come across her writing or fabric cards would see that she allows, “God’s creation to be my inspiration.” You can reach Bridget at: quiltforhim@yahoo.com or www.pfccreations.com.