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You are here: Home / Archives for story-harvest

The Gift of Ciara

December 18, 2018 By admin

Ciara was our first child, born during the lazy days of summer when hopes were high and dreams weaved themselves into the fabric of our lives. As first-time parents, we folded and refolded tiny rompers and snuggly sleepers, placing them gently in the newly purchased dresser that smelled of pine. A package of newborn diapers sat by the door, waiting. My bag was packed — for one on the trip to the hospital; for two on the trip home. Pacifiers, blankets and a couple of outfits, as I couldn’t decide which one would look the best, lay zipped inside.

My husband Roy and I drove to the hospital early that July morning for a c-section, eager to meet this little person that had grown inside of me for nine months. We took pictures — Quick! Get one of the bassinet — that’s where they will place her when she’s born! Or Here we are — 15 minutes before it all begins! And then — Here we go!

And then she was born. Immediately they whisked her away, her tiny cry echoing through the white-washed walls that kept me company as I was deserted by a crowd of whispering doctors and hustling nurses. Wheeled into recovery, Roy zipped in and out, giving me quick updates that lacked detail and left room for concern. “She’s so tiny,” he said.

“But is she okay?” I asked, begging for reassurance. There was no answer.

A doctor came in, his face somber. Her arm is crooked…she only weighs four pounds…she has trouble breathing and needed to be resuscitated… The list continued and my dreams crashed!

As they rolled me to my room, we stopped at the nursery so that I could see my baby — my baby that I had dreamed for, and prayed for, and longed for. I placed my hand on her chest, touched her, held her in the only way I could — and ached inside.

The next few days crashed together, filled with doctors with long faces and tragic news that seemed to spiral endlessly. We went home, just the two of us with cries of “Why, God?” screaming in our heads. We closed the door to the baby room as it taunted us with the smell of pine and an empty cradle. And we wept.

A few days later I sat in my car at a stop light and looked around me. The girl in the car next to me sang her heart out, unaware of my piercing eyes. The older man in the pickup truck wore a half-smile, his thoughts evidently elsewhere in a place that brimmed with good times and pleasantries. How could it be? My thoughts raged. How could all of these people find happiness while my world caves from despair?

But then I held her. I held this little bundle that was fragile and broken and beautiful and perfect and mine. And I loved her. Instantly, I loved her.

At last we got a diagnosis: Trisomy 18 — an extra 18th chromosome that gave my baby an early death sentence. And so we brought her home and I promised to fill her life, no matter how short, with all good things: birthday parties, Christmas presents, Easter egg hunts, satin shoes, and dresses trimmed in lace. No matter that she would never walk, never hold up her head, never say ‘mommy’: she would know love and compassion and warmth. She would understand security in my arms.

And then we buried her. It was a cold winter day in January that Ciara was laid to rest in the western plains of Oklahoma at the tender age of eighteen months. The wind bitter, I wrapped my coat around me and gazed out into the eastern sky that Ciara’s eyes would greet when Jesus came to take her home.

And now, three healthy kids later, I am so grateful for the gift of  Ciara — so thankful for what she taught me in her short life, and the hope her memory brings. What began as the most devastating, tumultuous time of my life became the defining moment that taught me what it really means to live.

My heart bled sadness that day; yet she left me with new words of compassion to share with those who are burdened with a staggering heart; new eyes to see beauty and worth in those whom others deem unfit; renewed hope in a future that shines brighter than the sun. She left me with the memory of her smile, vibrant and alive.

Vonda Seals writes from Keene, Texas.

The post The Gift of Ciara appeared first on Answers for Me.

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

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Filed Under: Dear God, News and Feeds Tagged With: birth, crushed dreams, during-the-lazy, easter, fear, hopeless, life, memory, story-harvest

Can God Use Me?

October 16, 2018 By admin

“Don’t give up! Keep pushing!” As I look into the eyes of this innocent woman, I know right away that I am far from home. She hasn’t been given any medication to help with pain, and her pelvis is too small for the baby to come out easily. I stand at the end of the hospital bed trying with all of my heart to comfort her with the fragment of French words I can understand as I begin to deliver the baby. I am not acquainted with the culture very well, so in my ignorance, I make the effort to show as much compassion, praying she will understand.

Finally, after forcing the baby to come out by pushing on the mother’s stomach, she delivers. Her uterus is not contracting well and she is bleeding excessively to the point of being anemic. I begin to run from family member to family member trying to find the correct blood type that matches hers. Either no one has the same blood type or they aren’t willing to donate even though they know it is for her survival. I realize after awhile that I match her blood type. I can give my own blood to save her life! Her blood pressure drops drastically, and she is loosing blood rapidly.

I run to the laboratory and tell Clara about the emergency. She promptly sits me down and retrieves a blood bag. As soon as I see the needle, I turn my head away. It is practically the size of a PVC pipe (a little over exaggerated). I start to pray that it will be over quickly. Thank God my blood came out fast, and before I know it, I have a pint (500 ml) of blood ready for the patient. Eliminating strenuous exercise after giving blood is out of the question today. I immediately stand up and run as fast as I can back to maternity where the mother is still struggling for life. I try to stay courageous, but deep inside my heart is welling up with frustration. I refuse to believe that this woman would go through so much for her little child, and then not be there to raise him. My job is to hold the baby while the other nurses’ frantically take the bag of blood and start running the IV. I fall in love with this mother and her little helpless baby boy in my arms as I wait for a miracle.

Being in the medical setting in Africa has been quite different from America. I decided to take my mission experience at the Koza Seventh-day Adventist hospital in Cameroon. Each day I have to be careful about what supplies to use for fear that there might not be enough for the next day. I’ve had the privilege of working with some very talented people who are quite resourceful, and at times when I haven’t known what to do, God has provided. He has given me the energy to work hard and get through many challenging days. To His glory, He has been accomplishing the task He sent me here for.

I have been in Cameroon for almost five months and I have found every minute worthwhile. When I surrender my selfish ambitions and give my life to Christ, the most exhilarating feelings come over me as I work for Him. It is the highest honor to see first-hand what God is doing around the world — and to be apart of it! I’ve had the pleasure of helping with surgeries, delivering babies, and comforting people by the bedside. I know God has called me here, and although sometimes I don’t know all that I’m here for, Christ keeps giving me reasons to stay just a little longer.

After much prayer and waiting, the mother survives, and I begin to take care of her as she heals from this traumatic experience. It is impressive to see the miracles of God as I work with Him in His plan to save souls physically and eternally. Since I have been here, reading the book Ministry of Healing has lead me to the faith that God can do anything. Ellen White states: “Faith is a mightier conqueror than death. If the sick can be led to fix their eyes in faith upon the Mighty Healer, we shall see wonderful results. It will bring life to the body and to the soul.”

My prayer for you today is that you have faith enough that God can mold you into his likeness and character. Take every opportunity that God presents to you to help others. It is a life full of surprise and fulfillment. He is calling you to be part of His story.

Elissa McMurry writes from the Pacific Northwest.

The post Can God Use Me? appeared first on Answers for Me.

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

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Filed Under: News and Feeds, Vegetarian recipes Tagged With: cameroon-each, culture, faith, heart, helping-others, hospital, life, mighty-healer, story-harvest

Wasp Attack

October 4, 2018 By admin

My husband and I were enjoying a warm summer evening and talking about the trip to Steamboat Rock State Park we were planning for the next day. The park has warm water, sandy beaches, and a protected swimming area. It was the perfect place for a day outing with family.

Even though my husband told me he’d find them, I went to the shed to get the lawn chairs. I had seen them several weeks earlier, so I knew where to look. As I headed back to the house, I disturbed a couple of wasps and two of them stung me on the arm.

We live on a small farm and I’ve been stung numerous times; in fact, I’d been stung just 10 days earlier. But this time I hadn’t taken more than a couple steps when I felt sick to my stomach, and thought, Wow, that’s strong venom.

I set the chairs by the back door and went into the kitchen to wash the dust and cobwebs off my hands which had begun itching. As I did that, I started getting lightheaded. Then I noticed my stomach was covered with a faint, almost invisible layer of hives.

Realizing that something was wrong, my husband said, “I’m taking you to the hospital” and hurried into the bedroom to grab his wallet from the dresser.

By the time he had walked the 20 or so steps back into the living room, I was losing consciousness. I remember him calling 9-1-1 and telling me, “Keep talking. Keep talking to me, Nancy.”

I mumbled a few words but couldn’t form coherent thoughts, so I prayed aloud . . . and as I prayed, I remember being amazed that I was able to form words . . . and then, nothing.

My next memory is a hazy impression of men surrounding me, and a calm voice saying, “Hi Nancy. Do you know who I am?”

I opened my eyes to see a paramedic I knew squatted beside me.

My husband tells me they came in two teams, four minutes apart: the first responders arrived three minutes after he called 9-1-1, and the paramedics rushed into the house four minutes later.

The paramedic gave me a shot of adrenaline, and while they waited for me to become alert, he told me the first call he received was that I was conscious, but less than a minute later, another call came through saying I was unresponsive. He said his unit reached me in seven minutes, a drive from the station to our house that would have taken a car 15 minutes. When they arrived, my heartbeat was 40 and dropping.

They loaded me into the ambulance, started an IV and sped off to the hospital, leaving their equipment scattered around our living room. Once I was in the emergency room, they went back to retrieve their equipment.

The doctor explained that rather than the throat swelling and breathing difficulties many people associate with anaphylactic shock, I’d had a cardiovascular event where my blood pressure and heart rate plummeted – similar to what happens when someone cuts themselves severely and is bleeding out. Without medical treatment, in a few more minutes, I would have gone into cardiac arrest.

The doctor gave me an anti-venom shot, then kept me in the emergency room most of the night, as it took hours for my vital signs to stabilize.

Until I get to heaven I won’t know why I went into anaphylactic shock or, for that matter, why I survived. We also don’t know how people at the brink of death will react. I prayed. God is the most powerful force in our world, and I called on him in my hour of need, and I know He heard my prayer because, “This is the confidence we have in approaching God: that if we ask anything according to his will, he hears us” (1 John 5:14, NIV).

Nancy Lou Semotiuk writes from the Pacific Northwest.

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

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Filed Under: Dear God, News and Feeds Tagged With: answers for me, bee stings, confidence, equipment, living, minutes, pacific, story-harvest

Forgiving Myself

July 4, 2018 By admin

I’ve changed my name because I want to keep my privacy. And I didn’t post a picture of myself because I don’t want anyone to recognize me. You see, many years ago I made a choice that I’ll always regret. It has taken years, but God has forgiven that mistake and made my life into something beautiful. Beautiful like a rose that grows in my garden….

The Wrong Choice

The choice was made in August of 1977. Well, maybe I should say June of 1977. It was the end of my freshman year of college. I had been flirting a lot with an older graduate student who I thought was very cute. We never really officially dated. We did make one date though—we planned on spending one full day–and night–together before I went home for the summer. I signed out of the dorm saying that I was spending the night with my grandparents who lived in town. Then I told my grandparents that I was spending the night with a girlfriend who had come to town for the weekend. I hated lying to them, but I did.

My plans for waiting until I was married to have sex crumbled that night. We didn’t use any protection. Driving back to the dorm the next morning, I had no idea that my life was about to change. Forever.

At the beginning of summer I went alone on vacation to Colorado to visit my cousin. When I got sick while watching a movie with her, she asked if I’d missed my period. Later she took me to a clinic where they told me that I was pregnant. Shortly after I found out, my parents came through Colorado and picked me up on their way to Nebraska to visit my grandparents. Mom and I went shopping downtown by bus one day, and on the way back I got sick again. I realized I needed to tell her I was pregnant. I asked her to go on a walk with me. We walked for a while and then sat down on a bench to talk, and I broke the news. She didn’t say much, except that she thought I was just carsick.

I don’t remember exactly when I told the father of the baby that I was pregnant. He did call me, though, when I was in Nebraska. He informed me that he had spoken with a pro-choice clinic and that they told him there was no way that I could take care of a baby by myself. They told him an abortion was the only way. He made it very clear that he definitely did not want to get married. In fact, he informed me that he was headed oversees for a year to teach school–but he would pay for an abortion.

I did not want an abortion. I seriously thought about just taking the money he sent and heading to Texas to get lost in Dallas or San Antonio. I had vowed I would never have an abortion. I believed it was taking a life.

One day, about half way through our stay in Nebraska, my mom came to me and said that the next day she, my cousin, my aunts and I were going to Omaha to shop. Well it turned out that everyone else was going shopping. Mom was taking me to get an abortion. I wasn’t given the choice. Sure, I was 20 years old then, but I was raised to never question my parents. If they told me to do something, I did it.

And so my baby died. 

Mom was terrified of what my dad might do if he found out I’d been pregnant. In order to keep the secret from him while I recuperated, she told Dad that I was still not feeling well from a strep throat infection I had earlier that summer.

Grieving the Choice

Afterward I cried a lot. I was angry with my mom, and my cousin. I was angry for a long, long time. I often woke in the night crying. I would cry when I saw Pro-Life and Anti-Abortion billboards and ads. I hated myself for not having the strength to stand up to Mom and to do what I knew was right and not take my baby’s life. The guilt and shame was so overwhelming that I had thoughts of suicide. Since I’d already given up on the commitment to wait until marriage to have sex, I had sexual relationships with several boyfriends after that. I just didn’t care anymore.

I started drinking and smoking pot—anything to try to numb the pain I was feeling. I began enjoying the alcohol and pot way too much. Then one night I drank too much and smoked too much. I would wake up and there were people in my apartment…then pass out and wake up and no one was there…then they were there again. The next morning I needed a drink. It was then that I realized I would be an addict if I continued drinking and smoking, so I stopped. But I traded that addiction for a food addiction.

I finally married, making sure my future husband knew what had happened. But the guilt was still there. I didn’t feel worthy of being loved. “How can someone love me, when I took my baby’s life?” I thought to myself. I felt that God hated me. I hated me. I didn’t want anyone to know my secret or judge me for what had happened.

Another Choice: Forgiveness

About 10 years later, when I was married with two wonderful children I had given birth to, I went to a Christian Woman’s Retreat sponsored by our church. I had gone to college with the speaker and she gave wonderful talks that touched my heart. On Saturday night, I asked to speak with her privately, and told her my story. I had forgiven my mom and cousin, but the speaker helped me realize that I had not forgiven myself. This was a totally new concept to me. I didn’t know I needed to, or even could, forgive myself. And I finally did believe that God could forgive me because He knows my heart.

The speaker told me something else that has helped me so much. She believes that when I get to Heaven, my angel or Jesus will bring that baby and place him or her in my arms. And I will be given a second chance to raise my baby in a perfect world where there is no sin! I hang on to that. It has given me so much peace.

I thank God for His love and forgiveness. My heart still twinges every March on my baby’s due date. I think about how old he or she would be. And all these years later, there are still days when the devil brings back the feelings of worthlessness and inadequacy. On those days I struggle with ‘How can God love me?”  I know He has forgiven me, but I just have trouble accepting it some days. But when I do remember that God does love me and has forgiven me, I ask myself, “What makes me better than God, to not forgive myself?”

The phrase, “God is in control” has become my mantra. And when I can’t sleep, I sing the song “Amazing Grace” in my head. I especially like the new chorus that was added to Chris Tomlin’s version of the song:

“My chains are gone
I’ve been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy reigns
Unending love, Amazing grace”
I have experienced His grace. And yes, it is amazing!

The author’s name has been changed, and the author’s photo is a stock photo from Unsplash.

The post Forgiving Myself appeared first on Answers for Me.

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

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Filed Under: News and Feeds, Vegetarian recipes Tagged With: abortion, author, choice, forgiveness, guilt, news, pre-marital sex, pregnant, savior, sexual, speaker, story-harvest

Midnight Climb

June 25, 2018 By admin

It was my freshman year in college and a group of friends and I decided to go camping in Yosemite National Park. My friend Noel proposed we climb Half Dome to experience the next morning’s sunrise from its peak. A granite hood jutting 4,737 feet above the valley floor where we camped, Half Dome is accessed by a one-way nine mile hike hooking up and around the massive rock and then scrambling over the back of the dome for a view of the Sierra Nevada Mountain Range.

We cooked dinner and went off to bed at midnight, looking forward to hitting the trail. At 2 a.m. we groggily dragged ourselves out of the warm sleeping bags into the freezing night air. There were about 25 students gathered, warmly layered with packs stocked full of water and PB&J sandwiches.

We set off in our bubbles of light as we silently pushed on in a hypnotic cadence where all sense of time was quickly lost, the miles and altitude literally falling away behind us, my focus solely on where to place the next step. The group quickly split to accommodate those going different speeds. Ours rarely stopped, and only ever for a couple of minutes at a time.

The path eventually shifted from hypnotic switchbacks to snake its way through woods. My new companion Emmanuel and I turned around realizing the rest of the group had fallen behind. The sky was the faintest of greys hinting at the sun to come. We knew we couldn’t wait. We pushed harder than we had before, exhaustion falling away to the knowledge we were close.

Finally the end was in sight, a quarter mile climb of rock steps zigzagging up the shoulders of the mountain right before the infamous cable climb up the back of the dome. Even without much weight on our backs, each step was a challenge. At this point the combination of distance and extreme gain in elevation had already reduced our legs to jelly. Each step was punishing. On a route where we would normally rest regularly to catch our breath and give our legs a break, we knew that time was against us, so we pushed on. Breathlessly we tackled the final 400 feet of elevation pulling ourselves up the slick rock face too steep to climb without cables bolted into the rock.

We had made it with only a few minutes to spare. We turned to feel the sunlight wash over us. Nature’s beauty was overwhelming, and as the beauty of God’s creation so often does, pushed me to quietly reflect. How easy would it have been to stay in those warm sleeping bags and take the route with the rest of the crowds the next day? Instead I found myself on top of the world with the satisfaction of a challenging journey tackled, a grin on my face, a new friend to share the experience with, and the inspiration only creation can provide.

Written by Trevor Boyson

The post Midnight Climb appeared first on Answers for Me.

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Article excerpt posted on en.intercer.net from Answers for Me.

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Filed Under: Dear God, News and Feeds Tagged With: answers for me, beauty, combination, dome, god's creation, midnight-climb, mountain, satisfaction, sierra nevada mountains, sierra-nevada, story-harvest, yosemite

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