{a still from the short film}

BIG CHANGES TO NOTE:

NEW WEBSITE – we have re-envisioned what the Hope Heals website will look like and how it will function.  We even got an easier-to-remember URL www.hopeheals.com (no dash!)  We will launch the new site on this new URL this Monday, April 22.  We will continue sharing our lives and story through a blog on this new, expanded website, but as we continue to see the growing need for stories of hope to be told, we wanted to move from telling just our story to other people’s stories, including yours!  We will be inviting the wisdom of guest blogging friends on Hope Heals, and we will engage the cycle of hope in some cool and creative ways through a new idea called the “Give Hope/Get Hope Campaign”.

SHORT FILM — as you may have heard, we were extremely blessed to be able to put together funds and the right professionals to shoot a short film of our story, from our perspective.  We will be debuting the TRAILER for the short film, along with the new website launch this Monday, on www.hopeheals.com, then the full version of the short film around Mother’s Day.  More info to follow.  The trailer, short film, and lots of extra footage will be rolled out over the coming months on our new Youtube Channel, which will also feature short devotional videos by us.

NON-PROFIT STATUS/MINISTRY — our hearts and our efforts continue to be pulled in the direction of more full-time ministry through this unique platform that we have been given.  We don’t know exactly what that will look like, but we are excited to jump forward in faith.  We do NOT yet have our 501(c)(3) status finalized, but we are getting close.  Check out the Donation button on the new Hope Heals site for more information.

Thanks to the work of many dear friends and family who have helped us make these dreams a reality, of particular note, Jay’s sister and graphic designer-extraordinairre, Alex Wolf, and our dear friend and short film director, DJ Viola.  We could NOT have done all this without you guys.  Many, many thanks from the bottom of our hearts.

God continues to astound us in the unexpected yet gracious ways that He works goodness out of our pain.  It’s been a messy but beautiful ride.  And the journey continues…we hope you will join us.

As James started “big kid” school this past Fall, it only seemed natural that he would transition to a “big kid” bed.  He was still technically sleeping in his original baby crib, though we had converted it into a daybed.  Out of the blue, our dear friends, the Stovers (the same who kept James for months after the stroke), offered an extra twin bed frame that they were getting rid of.  Andy even came over and helped me quickly disassemble the crib and set up the new bed.  I posted the pictures on Craigslist and sold the crib the next day.

{James’ Nursery in Malibu, 2008}

{James’ Room in Culver City, 2012}

{James & his big boy room, 2013}

A few days later, I rounded the corner into James’ room, and nearly felt the breath knocked out of me.  The room looked completely different.  All the sudden it hit me.  The crib was gone, and somehow with it, our baby was gone too.

Around the same time, Katherine finally upgraded her well-loved cellphone to an I-phone.  Her friend had taken her to the store and helped her set up the new system.  I called her to check in, and it went to voicemail.  I expected to hear the long-standing voicemail message of the Katherine from 2007, before her stroke.  We never had the heart to change it.  Even a year after her stroke, hearing it gave me butterflies in my stomach, but over time, it’s become a comforting memorial of sorts, a reminder of a different Katherine with a different voice in a different life.  But that day, to my surprise, I didn’t hear Katherine’s old voice on the voicemail, but rather I heard James’ voice say, “this is my Mom’s phone, leave a message”.

When Katherine arrived home, I felt a little stupid for feeling upset, but I asked her what happened to the old voicemail, why she hadn’t saved it.  She earnestly replied, “My voice doesn’t sound like that anymore, so I decided it was time to move on”.

For a moment, I was so pained at the thought of letting go of this seemingly mundane but priceless recording–this auditory snapshot from an old life erased forever.  Maybe all the more so because after years, I find myself not being able to easily remember the sound of Katherine’s previous voice.  I swallowed the lump in my throat and resolved that she was right.  After all, fully embracing a new life is impossible without letting go of some of the remnants of our old lives, even dearly loved ones.

Not long ago, James told me out of the blue, “Dad, I don’t like hearts.”  “Why James?” I asked confusedly.  “Because hearts break”, he said matter-of-factly.

As a parent, those are the moments that sting the most–when you know that your child has glimpsed the reality of this world a bit sooner than you would have liked.  Nonetheless, James and C.S. Lewis had it right, “To love at all is to be vulnerable.  Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken.”  If the alternative to a broken heart is an “unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable” one, then I suppose the choice is clear, but when our heart has been broken as the result of loving something then having to say goodbye to it, we can’t help but question if the love was worth the pain.

Today, Katherine and I kneel beside James’ big boy bed, and say our prayers.  He closes his eyes and smiles contentedly.  He is a boy now, and it is so beautiful to see.  Yet we must both fully love these moments and still hold them loosely because these moments will pass quickly too.  Katherine prays over her son, in her new, lovely voice, rich with joy and sorrow, and I know it was all worth it.

We recently decided that post-Valentine’s Day was a decent time to take down the Christmas card wall we had erected in our dining room.  Physical reminders of the loveliness of life are certainly one of the best ways to stay encouraged, and these photographic, captured moments of love and family are one of the dearest representations of the fullness of life to us, so we put them smack in the middle of our dining room–first thing you see when you open our front door.  It’s that important, even that necessary, to us.

One of the last cards we removed took our breath away.  It was a picture of the wonder of Christmas and the joy of Spring combined as two Santa hat-wearing newborn twins smiled at the camera.  This card is from a wonderful organization called Claris Health offering a range of amazing, life-giving options to women experiencing unexpected pregnancies.  These twins were the byproduct of those options.  Devastatingly, a month after that card was mailed to us, one of the twins suddenly stopped breathing and passed away.

We pushed the card to the side of the pile, but our eyes were unable to break away from it, much less our hearts.  The joy of this “annual Christmas card removal ceremony” was nearly swept away with sadness.  What in the world could have been the purpose of this child’s life being lost so soon after it had been spared?  So many moments of life represented on our table only magnified the singular moment of death.

The organization’s newsletter came a few weeks later with a note from the twins’ mother.  She said, “My family has never known how to show love.  Everything you have done has shown me what true love is–for the first time in my life, I can say I’m loved”.  In the anguish of death, God’s breaking heart cannot help but spill out love all over us.  Still in the afterglow of Easter, the picture of Jesus Christ represents that the greatest expressions of love can sometimes only be communicated through death.

Not long thereafter, our dear friends invited us over for a little birthday celebration for Katherine.  We organized it so that we could also attend a prayer service for a special couple, Will and Angie Gray, whom we’ve posted about before–here–which would be held across the street from our friends’ place.  We had dinner and were planning to slip out for a bit to go to the prayer time, then come back for a cupcake or two.

We arrived at the church’s office, and to our surprise, the subjects of our prayer, though exhausted and ill from the cancer radiation treatments, were there with us.  The juxtaposition of celebrating another year of Katherine’s life, one that shouldn’t have been after her stroke, with pleading and interceding to God for Will’s life was almost more than we could bear.  It’s astounding how the enemy can insert feelings of guilt about God’s miraculous works in our lives, particularly in light of the painful circumstances of others.  We ached with guilt during that hour of prayer.  We cried and trembled as we laid our hands on the Grays–these worst months of their lives instantly transporting us back to the worst times in ours.

After the prayer time, we returned to the celebration, which honestly, was all-but-deflated of its previous levity.  Our hearts were too heavy to smile.  And yet as the candles flickered off the windows and glasses, a small collection of light illuminated the night.  Even as the candles were blown out on yet another undeserved year, that small collection of burning lights remained in our hearts.

The brevity of life is all the more painful because of its incredible moments of beauty, but never let the focus on one allow you to lose sight of the other.  This whole experience is just a blink, a blurry one at that.  Before we know it, our eyes will close for the last time only to open again to true beauty, in crystal clarity.  Yet the life, the creation, the celebration matters because it is God’s, and it is good–may it be a bittersweet memory, an uncompleted hope of what is to come.

* Just before Easter, a few days AFTER this video was made, doctors declared Will’s cancer to be “non-curative”.  He and Angie have been sent home.  Please pray for this couple–for hope to remain and for God to heal the broken places only He can.  Please consider making your compassion and love more tangible with a monetary donation–click here.

Hoping your Easter was similarly full, and even more, hoping the days after (even the year after) will reflect the same.

One of the healthiest and most poignant exercises that we can engage in is remembering our past.  This is NOT so we can yearn for that past or be bound by it, but so we can be encouraged that life has always been both bitter and sweet (rather than painting an overly sentimentalized or tragedized version of it).  Moreover, it takes time, even years, to be able to look back and more clearly see God’s hand at work through those good and bad seasons.

Looking back on our lives gives us a confident hope so that we can LIVE forward.

{left, Easter 2007, Katherine throwing up from morning sickness and Jay throwing up from a stomach bug // right, Easter 2008, sweating and sleepless with 5-month old baby James, about a month before the stroke}

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{Easter 2009, approaching the 1 year anniversary of life changing forever // still living in Pomona, in full-time therapy at Casa Colina // had only recently been allowed to eat orally again though still hiding a feeding tube under the Easter dress // would have phase 1 of a radical facial surgery a few weeks after this}

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{Easter 2010, major strides in recovery, including walking again with a cane // had recently moved away from rehab into a home in Culver City // had undergone the 2nd strabismus eye surgery about a week before}

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{Easter 2011, the new normal continues to sink in though a yearning for the old life remains // engaged various new opportunities to share our story of hope}

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{Easter 2012, Hollywood Bowl under renovation but a video of our story closes Easter Sunday morning at Bel Air Pres (link here) // both turned 30 a few weeks before // just returned from a challenging but encouraging trip to Italy a few days before}

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The joys and sorrows of the last 7 years of our lives run so deep and spread across such broad spectrum, and yet no matter what happens between this Easter and the next, hope will remain.

“We are the already people but the not yet” ~ Gerhardus Vos

For now, we recount Easters past to remind us to hope in Easters present and future, but we know that one day we won’t need to look back to be reminded of how far God has brought us because one day, every day will embody the hope of Easter.

Of course, Trader Joe’s and a leftover centerpiece from an event did the trick just fine.  Truly, it’s hard to be too overwhelmed with feelings of pain or sadness, with the knowledge of death, when you surround yourself with anything that represents the Creator’s expressions of beauty and life.  But oh were it that easy to keep our heads above the waves when the storms come–just PUT A FLOWER ON IT!  There are no such shortcuts, I’m afraid.  Oh not to mention, some of these lovely little flowers have thorns.

I couldn’t help but remember the immortal words of the ’80s hair band Poison, “every rose has it’s thorn, just like every night has it’s dawn“.  Not a bad comparison, I must say, but this prompted some further searching…

“But he who dares not grasp the thorn should never crave the rose.“   ~ Emily Bronte

“We can complain because rose bushes have thorns, or rejoice because thorn bushes have roses“.  ~ Abraham Lincoln

I feel a little classier now than I did after that first quote, thank you.  Clearly, this notion of pain and beauty being flip sides of the same coin, thorns and roses co-existing is a fairly universal sentiment in this world.  Even physiologically, our bodies pleasure and pain experiences are strangely similar.  Yet why are we shocked to discover in this world that even things of great beauty or pleasure have been infiltrated with some measure of brokenness and pain?  Or maybe even more confounding, that a deeper, truer experience of pleasure can be gained through experiencing the suffering first?

Our present life in Christ gives us a vibrant smell of the roses, but interestingly, it doesn’t spare us the prick of the thorn (not yet, that is).  Even when we have a living hope that transcends this world and our circumstances, our heart doesn’t just harden up to keep out the hurt.  Jesus himself wept over Jerusalem and the death of his friend and over the separation from the Father that he would face in his own death on the cross.  Jesus experienced that emotional pain all the while knowing the real outcomes of all the stories.

“No pain, no palm; no thorns, no throne; no gall, no glory; no cross, no crown.“  ~ William Penn

As we enter into the darkest yet most spectacularly beautiful week of our faith, may we not try to gloss over the devastation of Christ’s experience, but more than that, may we ultimately see that pain through the lens of his undying love for us, just like we may rejoice in the roses on the thorn bush or find hope in a life that looks devoid of it.  Redemption of a lost creation was the joy set before Christ, spurring him on to endure the most catastrophic pain, the pain of separation from the Father.

Since we know the end of the story, we can confidently endure, moreover embrace, the depth of suffering that is embodied in these coming days of Holy Week, as well as the rest of our own days.  It is impossible to live in the joy of new life if we don’t first internalize just how far we’ve been taken away from death.

“For the joy set before him he endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider him who endured such opposition from sinners, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart.“  ~ Hebrews 12:2-3

However, the doctor came in and began the real examination.  His assessment was not great–basically, my right eye is more dried out and the cornea is more vulnerable and clouded than my last visit.  His conclusion is that more drastic steps should be taken to protect my eye, including a procedure which would make my eye opening smaller by partially sewing my right eyelid closed (called a tarsorraphy–I DON’T recommend googling that one).

* For any of you who don’t “see” the connection b/t my stroke and my eye (pun intended), here goes…

– Due to the facial paralysis resulting from my stroke, my right eyelid doesn’t fully close (despite a surgery which inserted a gold weight in my upper eyelid–posting here) and my right eye is compromised as it cannot stay lubricated on its own. 

- To complicate things, I have no feeling on the right side of my face, including that eye, so I don’t have the natural pain network to tell me that my eye is in dire need of moisture. 

- Oh and since I have double vision and no fine motor coordination in my right hand, putting in my own eye drops throughout the day is nearly impossible for me to do safely, so it falls on Jay.

For some reason, the doctor’s words were particularly painful to hear.  It certainly is not the worse thing I’ve been through in recent years, but it hit my heart in such a way that I was suddenly on the verge of tears as soon as the doctor left the room.  Something else, God?  Will it ever end?  The other day at James’ school a little boy with great concern in his voice asked me why my head was screwed on backwards.  Will insult be added to injury with a permanently half-sewn eye added to my already half-paralyzed face?

As any good husband would do (and should do), Jay offered some thoughts of encouragement and a long hug, but he didn’t try to fix it.  He let the moment, with its disappointment and pain, just sit because sometimes words fail.  Even small griefs need to be fully felt first, rather than brushed under the rug, in order to then confidently move through them to breath in the true experience of hope.

Jay tenderly wheeled me out and loaded me in the car and promptly drove me to Sprinkles Cupcakes.  (Thanks for the bday gift card Alex!)  Actually, it was Sprinkles’ newest iteration, Sprinkles Ice Cream.  It involves ice cream and cupcake tops.  And yes, it’s as good as you can image the combination of those two things to be.

Sugar helps me to breathe in hope, I suppose.  Apparently lots of my friends know this about me as they offered some sweet treats over the past week.

{the last shot of the multitude of little cupcakes was actually to celebrate a couple moving to NYC from our small group, but they may as well have been for me considering how many I ate!}

To be clear, I don’t advocate drowning your sorrows to silence pain that only God can heal.  I don’t recommend consuming anything to try and fill empty places in your soul that only the Spirit of God can fill.  It is all too tempting to engage any such counterfeit gods in our lives especially since engaging the true God requires us to feel and to struggle and to trust rather than depending on ourselves.  Nonetheless, I think when our hearts are fully dedicated to and dependent on the Creator, it frees us up to enjoy His creation in the right ways, which certainly includes a Sprinkles cupcake ice cream sandwich!

PLEASE PRAY ~ I have a follow up appointment with the occular plastic surgeon on April 8th.  Please pray that some different options would be made apparent to this doctor, options that would be good for the health and future of my eye without having to be as drastic as the current recommendation. 

Also, I have an infection in my eye, which may also be the source of some of the excess dryness.  Though I can’t feel it, my eye does not seem to be liking the antibiotic drops as it has turned an angry shade of red and my vision is getting a bit cloudy.  So we’re back to the eye doctor tomorrow to see what is going on.  Please pray they can figure out the best next course of action.  

Thanks dear friends!

]]> http://www.hope-heals.com/hope-while-you-cope/a-prayer-for-my-eye/feed 0 http://www.hope-heals.com/too-blessed-to-be-bitter/whilrlwind-southern-weekend-a-video http://www.hope-heals.com/too-blessed-to-be-bitter/whilrlwind-southern-weekend-a-video#comments Fri, 15 Mar 2013 16:02:14 +0000 katherine http://www.hope-heals.com/?p=2066 Continue reading →]]> We had a fabulous weekend back South.  It was absolutely filled to the brim with wonderful things–we got to speak a total of 5 times (in 3 different cities, in about 3 days), got to celebrate my 31st  birthday along with Jay’s grandmother’s birthday, and got to see some of Jay’s extended family who was in town for a graduation.

  It also happened to be Daylight Saving’s weekend, as you may recall, which wasn’t great, but in the end, we were given all the energy we needed and amazingly enough my one vocal cord (“the little engine that could”) made it through all 5 speaking engagements + receiving lines + chatting with family!  I was amazed and so grateful.

{some new friends from the Crenshaw Co. Women for Christ and our wonderful worship leader, Haley Spates}

Click below to watch our Sunday morning sermon on “Commitment Thru the Seasons of Marriage” at First Baptist Church, Montgomery.

Today, March 8th, Katherine turns 31.  Happy Birthday to my spectacular wife.  In many ways, the struggles of life have not gotten any easier, but amazingly, life together grows more lovely as we continue to experience love through those struggles.  Each year is more unexpected than the last, and each one with you is the most precious gift.

Recently, a friend referenced turning “the Jesus year” (aka 30 years old, the year Jesus started his ministry), and I was struck at the thought of what had transpired during our own “Jesus year”.  Not to give too much weight (or too little weight) to a thing like a birthday number, but God, the ultimate artist, seems to have a thing for numbers, pictures, parables, stories, and symbols.  Just check out, well, pretty much any page of the Bible.  For us, this 30th year signified some significant transitions in our lives, relationships, and ministry.  It was hard not to draw a few meaningful parallels in my mind between our past year and Jesus’ 30th year.

{Just to be clear, we don’t have a God-complex and Jesus’ own “Jesus year” certainly trumps ours times infinity, but if we are seeking to be like Christ, it’s never a bad exercise to remember those times when we were kind of like him.}

As a little birthday gift to Katherine and myself (as my 31st birthday is in a few weeks, on April 1st, so our “Jesus years” were pretty much the same), here is a little “Jesus Year” in Review for the Wolfs…

 we started the year off sharing the good news (posting here – and funny enough, we’ll start off this one doing the same! — here)

we revisited places that had once been home to tell what God has done in our lives (postings here and here)

we spent some time away, resting and celebrating life, in order to return to our mission re-focused and refreshed (postings here/here/here and here)

we were thrilled to share our story of new life on a particularly special Sunday (posting here)

we were given “water” by a kind woman, and returned the favor  (posting here)

we attended a wedding where we were vividly reminded of the ultimate wedding (postings here and here)

we began a new “Season” of telling the story of God thru the story of our lives (postings here and here)

we wandered in the “wilderness” a few times but refused to be tempted into self-reliance and found a deeper trust in the Lord (postings here, here, and here)

we experienced real-life liberation of captives and were humbled and grateful for our own freedom in Christ (posting here)

we were given the opportunity to speak from totally new platforms, encouraging healing and hope for the body and soul (postings here and here)

we were deeply encouraged by new friends–saints who have gone before us, so to speak (postings, here and here)

we found new and deeper ways to minister to our own family (postings here and here)

we even witnessed a few miracles along the way (postings here and here)

AND we were inspired to continue stewarding our story, finding creative ways to be “missionaries of hope” (postings here and here)

Who knows what this next year will bring, but I do know that the story, the love, and the hope will continue.

Like most things in life, a little aforethought and intentionality can work wonders in getting that desired outcome.  If we want to create a more positive springboard into our day, then we should probably plan it out more–revelatory, I know.  We’ve found even just considering what we will have for breakfast before the moment we need to eat ultimately soothes much potential stress.

James is unfortunately a very picky eater, and we try to eat something with protein that is relatively healthy (along with a steaming cup or three of the black gold, of course!), so the equation is never simple.  However, we recently came across 2 surprisingly simple breakfast recipes that are yummy for adults and kids and are quite healthy and protein-packed.  Perhaps they might ease your morning madness too.

Now, we love to make “real” pancakes whenever we can, but the reality is pancakes for breakfast daily is probably not the best choice.  Fear not, here is an alternative that is  pretty delicious and easy…

PROTEIN PANCAKES

* 1 banana (the riper the better)   * 1 egg   * 1 tbsp peanut butter

Mix together and cook like you would a pancake (try cooking in coconut oil instead of butter).

You can also add a tbsp of flour to bind it together.

(* originally from oh joy!)

(BTW, the lovely basket weave plate is by Provvista Designs — thank you Kathy!)

This second breakfast option involves a “new-to-us” ingredient called chia seeds.  These look like black sesame seeds but are considered one of the most nutrient dense, plant-based foods around, with high amounts of protein, fiber, and Omega-3′s in every tablespoon.

CHIA SEED SHAKE/PUDDING

* 1 cup milk (or almond/coconut/soy milk)   * 1/4 cup chia seeds   * 1 or 2 tbsp honey (or a few dashes of Stevia)   * Dash of cinnamon

Mix ingredients and refrigerate, even overnight, the longer the more pudding-like the consistency.

We also found that mixing in chia seeds to James’ cinnamon toast was strangely effective.  We could hardly muffle our laughter as James wolfed down two pieces, exclaiming his delight at the “yummy sugar toast”, his cheeks peppered in healthy chia seeds–victory!  Clearly, a little sugar does help the medicine go down.