I love this tree. He greets me at the entrance to one of our favorite walking trails along the Little Miami River. I love him when he’s full like this as summer begins. He looks strong and capable, even as his skeleton shows through all that green. I love him in the fall as the leaves become brilliant with color. But I love him best when he’s bare and exposed. Naked. Showing all his secrets and brokenness for the whole world to see.

Several years ago I named this tree Ceorl, (prounounced CHA-orl):

“In the Old English poem Beowulf, the word ceorl “man” (Modern English churl) is used for old kings and wise nobles, which is unparalleled in other Old English writings, where it often means a freeman of the lowest class or a peasant. The Beowulf poet uses it always in certain set phrases, and they seem to have been formed in close connection with its original meaning ‘old man’, which is lost in Old English but is retained in its cognates in some other Germanic languages.”
*researchgate.net

He has always reminded me of a wise, old man, so this name seems so perfect. And although he looks tired, even dead in the winter, I can picture him smiling wisely and patiently at me every time I pass him.

Every year, fresh growth emerges from what appear to be only dead and broken branches. Many of those leaves are from other plants and vines that grow along his twisted old trunk and bowed branches, depending on him for support and foundation, but I always look closely each spring to be sure, and . . . yes, much of that green is his own. He is still alive in there. Providing that support for all those other plants, and his own kind of incredible beauty to this beloved trail. I think of him as mine.

As I continue processing this new diagnosis and wrestling through a myriad of emotions, wavering between acceptance and rebellion, I feel a little like Ceorl right now. The naked version of him. No matter how many times we say to ourselves, or out loud to others, “Age is just a number,” “I’ll never give in to age,” or one of my favorites as our family grew and we aged, “You’ll never grow old as long as you have someone to potty train,” we cannot stop the march of time and its effects on our bodies. I cannot hide the way this new disease is robbing me of breath and strength right now. My weakness and oldness are exposed.

Every single day the words, “heart failure,” whisper through my brain as I still keep thinking, “Really? Aren’t I just imagining this? Is this really happening to us?” Except the words actually sound like this: “heart Failure. Failure! FAILure. FAILURE!” As if I’ve done something myself to bring this on my family. Let them all down. Brought this into their lives in some shameful way.

I know that’s not true. But I find myself apologizing repeatedly to all of them. It’s part of the process. I know this. I’ll work through it and move on with a few new broken branches, but it’s where I am at this moment.

I am feeling my body laugh at me right now about all those things I said through the years as I shook my fist at coming old(er) age, and I feel all of the broken and bowed pieces acutely.

But I also feel life inside of me! I feel my weakened-but-still-there desire, and even ability, to stand firm but twisted while those I care for, and about, use me for a support and a foundation, latching onto me for what I have to offer them, and to offer what they have for me. We will get through this as we figure it out.

During my quiet time this morning, Joni had this to say in her book, “Songs of Suffering: “[Even as Christians] We still wrestle with pain and become easily discouraged. We have questions about suffering that seem unanswerable, and we struggle to stay satisfied in God. Even when we read the many promises of God, they often feel out of reach. . . You may be suffering, but do not stop singing. Do not stop believing. The long-expected one has come (and has promised that he is on his way back)! You can bank on every single one of his promises because Christ sealed them with his blood. So turn to him in your pain, for the promise maker always makes good on his word.”

Of all the things I’ve been afraid of in my life, I’ve never dreamed of heart issues. I didn’t want this. I certainly didn’t ask for this. But I have asked God so many times through the years to help me know him better. To trust him more. To feel the realness of him deeper in my soul. And this seems to be the next step he has planned for answering that prayer. My main prayer now is that I won’t waste one second of whatever he has to teach me — to give to me — in this new season.

“Affliction is a pill, which, being wrapt up in patience and quiet submission, may be easily swallowed; but discontent chews the pill, and so embitters the soul.”
~ John Flavel (c. 1627–1691)

May God give me the courage and grace to swallow this pill, fully aware that his loving hand has placed it on my tongue. May I see it for what it is. A sign of his love and an invitation to enter in and know him better.

Heart failure. That’s my diagnosis.

According to the American Heart Association:

“The term heart failure sounds like the heart is no longer working at all. Actually, heart failure. . . means that the heart isn’t pumping as well as it should. Your body depends on the heart’s pumping action to deliver oxygen- and nutrient-rich blood to the body’s cells. With heart failure, the weakened heart can’t supply the cells with enough blood. This results in fatigue and shortness of breath . . . Everyday activities such as walking, climbing stairs or carrying groceries can become very difficult.“

In January, I went to visit my primary care doctor for an annual check up. They noticed that my heartbeat had become irregular. I didn’t know it at the time, but that moment was the start of a new and sometimes scary and really confusing path.

My doctor left the practice right after that to head in a different direction, and I began searching for a new one. That took awhile as it’s very hard these days to find people accepting new patients. Then the long wait for my appointment day. By April, when I finally saw my new primary care, I had also started experiencing some discomfort and a number of symptoms that indicated possibly serious problems. Over the past two weeks, I have become increasingly uncomfortable as breathing has gotten harder and harder.

Since that appointment day in April, we have been doing tests, seeing a cardiologist, and starting to learn about things like TIA’s (transient ischemic attacks, sometimes called mini strokes or pre-strokes), reduced ejection fraction, LVH (left ventricle hypertrophy), a too-high percentage of PVCs (premature ventricular contractions), dyspnea (shortness of breath), pulmonary edema, Beta blockers, diuretics, EKG’s, and Echocardiograms. We have had to pour hours into research as we try to understand new terms and figure out the right questions to ask and which tests to request. It’s still an ongoing process.

None of the other 60-80 appointments per month, or the hours required to keep scheduling new appointments for kids has let up. Both our ministry, The Shepherd’s Crook Orphan Ministry, and our family remain in financial crisis. We cannot pay our water bill or our power bill, buy groceries or curriculum for starting summer school, or cover a long list of other needs.

I’m tired. My body feels weak and fatigued and breathless so much of the time. My brain is sometimes foggy and struggling a bit to complete daily tasks or understand things being said to me. Just writing this blog post has taken so long and required so much focus and energy as I try to make my brain work. My mind is sometimes consumed with fear and discouragement about the future now and how to care for this beautiful family who needs a mom who is strong and clear-thinking and organized.

How did this happen?! Why did this happen!?

A dear friend (although we have never met in person) sent me this book a week or so ago. And this hymn, Dear Refuge of My Weary Soul was precious to me this morning. If you’re struggling with anything at all (and, truly, who isn’t?!), I would encourage you to click the link listen to it and let the lyrics soak into your soul. I held to these two verses with both hands during my quiet time this morning:

But oh! When gloomy doubts prevail,
I fear to call Thee mine;
The springs of comfort seem to fail,
And all my hopes decline.
Yet gracious God, where shall I flee?
Thou art my only trust;
And still my soul would cleave to Thee
Though prostrate in the dust.

Hast Thou not bid me seek Thy face, 
And shall I seek in vain? 
And can the ear of sovereign grace, 
Be deaf when I complain? 
No, still the ear of sovereign grace, 
Attends the mourner’s prayer; 
Oh may I ever find access, 
To breathe my sorrows there.

The day we got this beginning of a diagnosis, Scott and I slipped quietly into the same special coffee shop we visited the day we learned he had cancer back in 2016. It was comforting to sit together in this familiar place, holding hands and staring at a sunbeam illuminating this fresh flower on the table as we began trying to process what this means for us going forward.

Emotionally, I’m still in the middle of processing all of it and trying to even identify what I’m feeling. There has been very little time to sit around and ponder, explore, or cry, so I haven’t made a lot of progress in this area yet. But that’s okay. I can accept that and move at whatever pace is right.

Practically, we are working on finding answers to what has caused this in my body and how to best treat it. It doesn’t appear there is a cure, but we hope to find treatment that will return me to full function. I have more tests coming up and will see a new cardiologist on July 3. I see a neurologist in October (the soonest opening anyone had) about the episodes that seem to be TIA’s, and I will continue taking steps to care for myself the best that I can. Remaining active and continuing my cardio workouts is increasingly hard, but also really important, so I keep trying. And we keep looking for ways to even better manage the stress in our out-of-our-control, high-stress life while still caring for everyone.

And I know that the Creator of this heart inside my body is also the good and loving Author of my life. He is directing all our steps. He is holding me. He is holding all my babies and my husband. I continue trying to lean on him in all the areas of need, and trust the faithfulness he has proven to us over and over again through the years.

Welcome to this new season in our journey if you’d like to follow along.