by MidMoMom

“A, B, C, D, E, F, G…”  I frequently begin my mornings this way.  Reciting the alphabet, repeating my address, or just carrying on an audible monologue of what’s running through my head.  Hearing my own words gives me courage and assures me that all is well, and I often do this before I even roll out of my bed in the morning.

You see, exactly one year ago today I awoke without the ability to speak clearly.  My words were gibberish, incoherent babble.  And it was the most frightening and frustrating experience of my 42 years.  The words formed in my brain easily and made perfect sense.  I knew exactly what I was trying to say.  Unfortunately, communicating those words was impossible.  No matter how I tried to convey my feelings and thoughts to my husband, what was coming out of my mouth was utterly foreign.  I was terrified.  My body had betrayed me.  I felt locked inside my own head, unable to articulate my fears, and I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to again.

After convincing my husband I wasn’t playing, that something was truly wrong, he drove me to the local emergency room.  It didn’t take long for them to determine that what they believed was going on with me was something I would never have anticipated at my age.  Stroke.

After some initial tests and a CT scan, I found myself experiencing another first; an ambulance ride to a hospital an hour away that had better resources to treat stroke patients.  Five days of testing and around-the-clock monitoring confirmed it.  I had suffered a left-sided ischemic stroke, and quite possibly two of them.  The doctors and nurses said I was lucky.  They called my speech problem a “deficit”, and thankfully, my deficit had resolved itself almost completely within the first 24 hours of the stroke.  But it left me with something much worse.  Fear.  Fear of another stroke, and of a much more debilitating deficit, or worse.  Thus began my daily ritual of reciting aloud the alphabet, my address, the day’s plans, or whatever words came to mind.  I even did it this morning.

But I won’t do it tomorrow.  And I won’t do it the next day.  I refuse to continue to allow fear to rule me.  I’ve given too many of my days to the monster that is worry, and to asking “what if?”.  Today, I’m reclaiming my life and the peace that God promises his followers.

The apostle Paul wrote to the Philippians, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, 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.” (Philippians 4:6-7 NIV)

So, on this Thanksgiving weekend, one year from the day of my stroke, I give this worry over to the Lord.  I praise Him and thank Him for his many blessings and for keeping his promises.  Each day I wake up, instead of being filled with anxiety and using my words to assure my mind that all is well, I will use them to praise the Lord and to thank Him because, for this life, I am truly grateful.




A Random Smile

Throughout the Bible, we see that God often chose those who weren’t the strongest, the bravest, the most popular, or the most eloquent to do His important work. This makes me smile.  In a world that pushes us to know more, have more, BE MORE, God loves us unconditionally and can use us for His work, just the way we are!

Father’s Day 2016


Happy Father’s Day to all the dads out there!  I was a daddy’s girl, so losing my dad was the most difficult thing I’ve ever faced.  He was my hero and the best role model a girl could have.  Heaven is lucky to have him, and I look forward to seeing him again one day.

If you still have your father, hug him tight and tell him something you’ve never told him before. Someday, you might just wish you still had that opportunity.

I’m blessed to have had some great men in my life. My father was a sweet and generous soul. My stepdad taught me so much about life and was always there to lend a hand. My father-in-law is a hard-working and kind man, and he raised a certain young boy into the amazing man my husband is today. For that I’m forever thankful.


Sun, Sand and a Little Perspective


Today was my first day back to work after a much-needed vacation to the beach with my family.  As it always does, our vacation flew by too quickly.  I often wonder why it has become the “norm” for us to work so many hours of our lives and have only a few left over for what matters most. Walking through my office door this morning made me realize that I want more.  I don’t mean more money or more material things.  After 40-some years of working hard to be somebody, to earn diplomas, degrees and accolades to boost my resume’ and, with it, my family’s income, it occurs to me that none of that has brought me happiness. At the end of the day, what makes me smile is spending quality time – not conversations over a hurried dinner about how stressful work was today – with my loved ones.

Our week in the sun and the realization that I have only a few short years to give my now-teenaged son lasting memories of a positive, happy childhood have given me a new perspective.  Sometimes it takes distance and time away from something to realize just how much it shapes your life, for better or, perhaps, for worse.  Taking a step back from the “everyday grind” can be the catalyst for change that is essential to your health, your happiness and your spiritual well-being.  When your career becomes a job, it’s time to re-center and focus on what’s important.

Someone I admire and greatly respect told me, just this evening, “You have to love what you do, because you give up time with your family to do it.”  I couldn’t be more grateful for this timely advice.  The people and things that make my life stressful have been given too much importance in my life, for too long.  I owe it to my family, and to myself, to place these pressures on the back burner and live in the moment.  So, today I vow to worry less and do more of the things I enjoy.  I promise to give my best to those who matter most to me.  It’s said that life is what we make it.  What will you make of yours?


Mother’s Day 2016


I have so many reasons to feel blessed this Mother’s Day.  Of all the women God could have chosen to be the mother of my son, he picked ME, and I couldn’t be more grateful.

Happy Mother’s Day, and God bless all you moms out there.  You were chosen for the most important job on earth.

Tuesday Morning Truth

Photo Source: https://pixabay.com/en/ducks-ducklings-family-bird-young-686098/


By MidMOMom

An author I follow on Facebook shared a blog post today that she had written about not knowing what to do with her life.  She was having trouble focusing on her next novel, changes in her job (that she used to love) were causing her stress, and she wasn’t sure what her next big move should be.

I pondered this as I was getting ready for work.  It was early, I was tired, and I was about to leave to take my son to morning weights at his school.  For just a few moments, I allowed myself to relate to that post.  I could empathize with her plight of having a lackluster job.  My ambition to have a writing career is still just a pipe dream.   For about ten minutes, I wallowed in the self-pity of wondering who I was and where my own life was going.  I felt adrift.  Like my anchor was overboard, but its rope was too short to find a foothold.

Grabbing my purse and heading for the kitchen, I met my son in the hallway.  “Mom, can you sign my electives sheet for next year?”  He waved a piece of paper at me.  We sat at the dining room table and chatted for a while about which classes he’d chosen as electives for his upcoming 8th grade year.  It hit me, suddenly, that this year, his 7th grade year and first year of Junior High School, was coming to an abrupt end.  The months and weeks and days had flown by and summer was fast approaching.  I would only have five more years to cherish these mornings with my son as he prepares for school.   That’s when a new panic set in.  Right now I’m a bona fide mom.  I drop off at early practices and cheer from the stands at sports events.  I sign permission slips and help with homework.  I do laundry at midnight when he “just remembered” he needs a certain pair of shorts for gym class.  After five more years, what will I be?

I’ll tell you what I’ll be.  I’ll still be a mom.  I’ll have had the honor of raising a fine young man who says “please” and “thank you” and helps clear the supper dishes.  I’ll have the satisfaction of knowing that my son was raised knowing the value of working hard and saving for things he wants, though he never had to do without the things he needed.  I’ll be content to know that he has grown up with the influence of teachers, coaches and mentors who taught him how to be a part of something larger than himself.  I’ll be overwhelmingly grateful that my only child has grown to know Jesus and has accepted Him as his savior.  With a few more wrinkles and many more memories to cherish, I’ll be no less the mom I am now.