Coffee, I gave it up and then it found me.

Costs A Latte.

I gave up coffee for Lent and then it found me.

It was all going swimmingly and then, well, I was text messaging someone important (i forget who, but YOU ARE ALL important!) and the Starbucks man was text messaging someone else important when I ordered my chai latte.

I continued to be distracted because Chloe had opened two chocolate milks directly from the cold case and Lily was screaming that she wanted the pink cake pop with white sprinkles; not the white cake pop with pink sprinkles.

Before I knew it, I drank half of a regular latte. Which is essentially coffee. And I was off the coffee-free-for-Lent wagon in a blink of an eye.

I thought about throwing it out. But then, Chloe attempted to run into the middle of Kings Highway during rush hour and I got distracted, again.

I gave up coffee and then it found me in Starbucks, of all places. Go figure.

I gave up coffee as a practice in discipline. You see, I have no discipline. My mouth is the most undisciplined part of me--words flow without any sense of control and sometimes, well often, they are offensive or unnecessary or just simply too many. I thought maybe that by giving up my most favorite beverage in the whole entire universe--with caff or without--that maybe I would then be able to find the discipline to control my manic and slightly crazy talking habit.

And then, maybe, then, I could be quiet enough and hear God's voice like all those other quiet people who read Elephant Journal or like those monks in Spain.

Alas, none of it worked. I failed. Horribly. The day after my accidental latte; I made myself a yummy cup of Green Mountain Black Magic, brewed right in my Keurig. Then I stopped drinking it for a few days and totally gave into my urges at a Bible study. It was all downhill. I am back on the sauce.  Full time.

But strangely, I am less distracted by the need to not have coffee. So what if I have it? So what if I don't? I know God never cared either way--He just wants me as I am--manic. crazy. full of words. But, He wants me distraction free. He wants me focused on one thing at a time.  If need to choose my words carefully, then I do, because I think before I speak. If my kids need something specific, I hear it the first time. If I order a chai, I get a chai.

And when He speaks to me, I hear Him.

I am hiring, sort of.

I don't really have a set business model or product line or steady source of income.

However, I do have a lot to do. And I want more to do. And I refuse to give any of it up. Call me Martha (i.e. sister of Mary of Bethany and Lazarus, that dead guy Jesus raised who was obsessed with doing everything at all times) or the other Martha (Stewart. However, I am not so much into cleaning, jail and farm animals, but I could be. ) or just call me crazy.

A good friend did ask me if I was bipolar this week, but I digress.

I woke up this morning and realized it was Thursday. My husband is always fascinated with me--like I am a pretty shiny object or a large whale that washed up on the beach. He often says:  "What do you do all day?," while stepping over the laundry in the dining room. So, here is my first ever list of what I do! (Note it never includes cleaning. or laundry. I do that. but not often or in any sort of organized fashion).
Already this week, I've:

The last of the mismatched socks. 

• Done a radio interview (my first!! now I want a radio show!! or at least a radio studio room in my basement)
• I wrote a chapter for the book 
• I've landed (I think!) a new social media gig for a fabulous client
• I've discussed yoga and arts therapy and began to plan a special class for breast cancer survivors
• Started some plans for Lemonade Season (save the date June 9, Lily's Lemonade Stand)
• Began quietly percolating on a new direction in my yoga teaching and writing life. 
• Stayed up late reading stories of childhood cancer while drinking tea and weeping (am so bipolar)
• I've put out about 40 fires between various social circles and groups (drama!)
• Blogged 
• Worked on a fabulous, top-secret amazing writing project/world changing empire (it is just a little thing really) with my partner Michelle. (whose last name I will not divulge because it is classified)
• Gone to gymnastics, choir, bible study, horse back riding. 
• Worked on yoga lessons
• Pretended to go for a long run (exhausting)
• Worn my Gloucester Township Patch Adkins hat and written a Patch piece
• Wrote and pitched a few new stories
• I've misplaced my children three times (a new record!)
• And perhaps most importantly: I've worn all my mismatched socks and now it is warming up and will no longer be boot weather, so I've spent hours thinking about pedicures and praying I won't have to wear Lily's Justin Bieber socks as a last resort.

And it is just Thursday.

I need an assistant (or a clone).

So I am hiring, sort of. I am looking for an intern. Someone who is young, organized like Martha, but accepting like a Saint and has superior technology skills and at the same time does not remind receiving very, very, very, very important notes written in a hot pink Sharpie on the back of an American Girl Catalog.  Someone who is dedicated to a life of service (to me! to me! to me!! just kidding!) in the community and who loves to write. Someone who wants to see what the life of a working writer/poor philanthropist is like. Someone who wants to learn something about writing a book and who maybe wants to write their own someday. Someone who is happy to be help launch a series of AMAZING projects.

Someone who is hungry to learn, but has enough money to eat. Apply within. I will pay you (most likely late and with jelly beans, but if you are the assistant, you can handle the books and just pay yourself).

Tuesday for Trayvon

"Let me take some pictures of you in a hoodie."

"Why?"

"For my blog."

"Yes, Mommy, but why?"

"Because a man hurt a boy who was wearing a hoodie. He did not like how he looked."

"Mommy, that does not make any sense."

If my six year old gets it, why didn't a 28-year-old man?

She did what she could

I have been working through a study of women of the Bible with my Mom to Mom group at church. As we work through the New Testament, I've found myself realizing what an important role Christ gave women. They were also his disciplines and faithful followers--and they weren't just bearing children and washing linens--they were leaders.

In Mark 14:1-9, it is just before Passover. Jesus knows he will soon be arrested and killed as a criminal. There is chatter all around of chief priests and scribes looking for a way to arrest him--but they can't do it during Passover--people might riot. It would be very bad politically.

Alex Scott: She did what she could. 

Jesus is in Bethany. And a woman named Mary (referred to as Mary of Bethany) comes to him. This Mary is the sister of Martha--the biblical equivalent Martha Stewart--a doer and a perfectionist in every way. And also the sister of Lazarus, who was raised from the dead.  Mary brings nard--a very, very expensive perfume and pours the entire jar on Jesus' head. Those at the dinner table scold and mock Mary--saying, that nard--that could have been sold to feed the poor. Why waste it? (good point, right?)

Jesus stops the the haters, saying, "Let her alone: why do you trouble her? She has performed a good service for me. For you always have the poor with you, and you can show kindness to then whenever you wish; but you will not always have me. She has done what she could; she has anointed my body beforehand for its burial."

Mary knew Jesus would die. She believed Jesus was her Savior. She loved him. And she did what she could--Mary could not stop his arrest. Mary, on her own, could not stop Jesus from dying on the cross. She couldn't. But she could honor his life and his body by anointing him while he was alive. Mary stood up--in the face of compainers and naysayers to do what she could.

I have the words "She did what she could" written about four hundred times in my journal. And those words have become a daily meditation for me. Our world is overwhelming. The news of a 6-year-old boy, who was starved and abused by his parents, brings the "overwhelm" to the forefront. Our systems are broken. People are broken. Evil is everywhere. And there is nothing we can do.

But there is. We cannot do everything. I cannot do everything. I am powerless to stop another child from being diagnosed with cancer--I cannot carry the world on my shoulders. None of us can--we simply can't.

And that is okay.

Because we can all do what we can. Imagine if everyday, everyone woke up and said, "Today I am going to do what I can."

And if "what I can," is holding the door for someone at Wawa or saying Good Morning to our neighbor or smiling at a stranger or praying for the alleviation of suffering or simply loving our husband and children as best we can.  What if we all gave a dollar to every Lemonade Stand or Salvation Army volunteer? What if we all just remembered to put our water bottle in the recycling bin instead of the trash?

If just doing what we can--not doing everything we can--moves us to action instead of paralyzing us into cynicism--maybe we will hold the world up together, maybe one more child will be saved from an abusive family and maybe one more parent will stop hurting their child and maybe, just maybe we will work together to find a cure for cancer.

All because, we did what we could.

And then she was six.

"What will you call it!!!!!!????" "What will you call it!!!!!?????"

Lily demanded, jumping up and down, while simultaneously smacking my thigh.

She was, of course, referring to her birthday blog. Apparently, I've inadvertently established a new tradition in this family; the tradition of the "Ode to you on your birthday. . "

Lily said she had already started the first draft of my very own birthday blog; which will highlight my apparent love of surfing (who knew?!), cooking, Jesus (clearly I am doing something right), yoga and writing articles.

My birthday is not until July--that kid is always early.

I, of course, am late with her blog. But, the lateness is somehow fitting to Lily's arrival six years ago. I've written in dramatic detail about her surprise birth. She was early. I was sick. Then she was sick--a teeny baby with very sick lungs. Then Lily taught herself to breathe--because that is what Lily does; she can teach herself anything.

While she was born early, our mother-daughter bonding happened later. We did not meet until 24 hours after her birth--I was hooked up to an IV and she was hooked up to one million things and on a ventilator in the NICU. While I spoke to her and touched her and pumped milk for her and prayed for her and wrote at her bedside; it was weeks before I could hold her in my arms. And those first couple weeks of holding my Lily had to be done with the help of a nurse. We could not risk disconnecting her CPAP and truthfully: I was so scared I would hurt my tiny teeny baby.

I always feared that this disruption in the early days would somehow make us less connected. That somehow my lateness would just mess it all up.

How silly am I?

The moment I felt Lily in my arms, I was hooked. I know she was too. I watched the monitor as her breathing strengthened and her heart steadied.  We bonded. Instantly.

And then she came home. Every night, when I placed Lily to sleep in her bassinet, she would smile at me. My good night smiles gave sweet dreams. And then she turned one and we celebrated with pink poodles and Eiffel Towers and friends from near and far.

And then she got sick. And then Lily, she got well. And she turned 2 and crawled again.  Then she turned 3 and then, finally, she walked. She turned 4 and she danced. And then she turned 5 and she ran.

And last week, my sweet Lily-Lou turned 6.

mustache. she loved. it (Thanks to Amy at Sweet Pea Pictures!)

Here she is, my 6 year old. A child with a sassy mouth (which I secretly love), a whimsical mind (she is planning to design a wave pool for the backyard; you know, i love surfing), a beautiful voice (she sings like a dream), a heart of gold (she wants to move all the homeless people into our basement), a witty sense of humor (with a wry smile to match), a child with faith (she prays!), an aspiring gymnast (take that brain tumor), a dang good sales person (over 250 Girl Scout cookies told!) and a total free spirit (who else wears a Clifford costume to the Liberty Bell in February).

Lily reminds me everyday that I can do anything--because she does it all.

Happy Birthday Lily. May everyday be a celebration and may your heart always be filled with possibility. We love you.

Prayer.

When Lily was so sick a Church of the Latter Saints in California was praying for Lily's healing. People and churches all over New Jersey, Ohio, Texas, Pennsylvania  and all around the world had our daughter in their prayers.

Knowing that strangers from all different faiths were praying gave me peace, hope and strength.  It was like having a team of holy cheerleaders reminding me that God loved us, that Lily's illness was not His doing, that we could do it, we could see this brain tumor thing through and come out the other side as whole, functioning people.

Prayer is not magic, however. There is no explanation why my prayers for Lily to always be healthy were not exactly answered when she was, in fact, diagnosed with a brain tumor. And why, then, my prayers for her healing and long term health were answered. Or why some who we pray for die and others live. There is no logic to it; no scientific formula--but still I pray.

Prayer is not a way to manipulate God. Prayer is not a magic wand to wave. It is not a way to change the past or rearrange the present or dictate the future. But prayer is powerful-nonetheless.

Its power comes from the shared experience of asking God for something that no one else can give us. When we all pray whether in Lindenwold, NJ or in London, England--we are all singing the same song at the same time. It is this music that changes things; that makes shifts in the world. When we, all of us, pray, we utter our hearts truest needs--we share pain and joy--all in equal doses.

When we pray we give up the fear and anger that we are carrying and stand up with peace in our shared hearts. We stand up with the faith that our prayers will be answered and heard.

And then, we pray again.

It ain't no Cabbage Patch Part 2: A Friend's Story

Preeclampsia can happen at any point in pregnancy and it can also happen postpartum. My friend Sarah suffered from preeclampsia a few days after delivering her second child. Sarah had no idea it could happen postpartum. Sarah is volunteer organizing the Promise Walk in Cherry Hill, NJ on May 12. 

Preeclampsia is a condition that all women need to know about--if you are pregnant, thinking of getting pregnant or have a friend who is pregnant--learn the symptoms and warning signs. There is no cure--but there are treatments to protect your health and your baby's health. The most important tool: awareness and knowledge. 

Here is Sarah's story adapted from her blog Finnegan and the Hughes.  You can read the full entry here. 

When I had my daughter Hayley Jane at full term via c-section on October 25th we were on cloud nine! Our little princess had arrived and even my son Derek, at just 26 months old, was thrilled for our family. I was released from the hospital and spent two days in that post baby honeymoon phase then I woke up on October 31st I knew something was off. I told my husband Rob I couldn't fully catch my breath, I had a dull headache and I thought my vision seemed blurry. Then I thought I was being paranoid; I was recovering from a c-section and had a new baby that was nursing every 2 hours but Rob told me to call the doctor. I was surprised at the stern immediacy in the doctors voice when she said to "grab your pump and get back over the bridge" My in-laws rushed over and I kissed my babies good-bye trying to be strong but unable to hold back the tears. Derek was going to be a fireman for Halloween that day, plus my brand new Hayley Jane, I needed to be home and dress Hayley in pink and cuddle her...would she forget me, would we never bond!! I didn't realize then that it would be 3 hellish days till I saw them again.

Hayley and I

(2 days before I was readmitted to the hospital)

In the Emergency Room they had no idea what to do with me.  I was a basketcase, I cried to EVERYONE!! If the person changing the trash even glanced in my direction and made eye contact I would cry to them and say "I just want to go home to my babies" After many hours in the ER I was sent to Labor and Delivery where I was told what I had was preeclampsia. WHAT?   I was so petrified and just wanted to be with my babies and here I was a mother of two, about to be hooked up to a magnesium iv so I wouldn't have a seizure due to preeclampsia and I had NEVER even heard of having preeclampsia postpartum!! A very sweet nurse sat down next to me and she grabbed my hand firmly, she spoke clearly and calmly about how awful I was going to feel on the magnesium and she asked me to tell her what I was thinking and I told her "I'm scared, I just want to be home with my babies and I'm nervous what will happen to me and I'm afraid that I might die"  She told me this would help me and that my husband could stay.  Rob stayed by my side for 3 long days. The first night I was on the magnesium he snored away in the chair next to my bed while I saw 5 of everything, I had to wear an oxygen tube because my oxygen saturation levels kept dropping so low every time I would drift into sleep I would wake up gasping for my breath, I was pumping every two hours, unable to get out of bed and was hooked up to a catheter.  I  felt so sick, oh so sick, the magnesium makes you so so so sickly feeling.  After I came off the Magnesium I felt "better" my blood pressure was still high but low enough that I could go home eventually!!  It took a few weeks for my BP and me to get back to normal.

Thousands of women and babies die or get very sick each year from this dangerous condition called preeclampsia, a life-threatening disorder that occurs only during pregnancy and the postpartum period. Affecting at least 5-8% of all pregnancies, preeclampsia and related disorders such as HELLP syndrome and eclampsia are most often characterized by the presence of protein in the urine and a rapid rise in blood pressure that can lead to seizure, stroke, multiple organ failure and death of the mother and/or baby. Swelling, sudden weight gain, headaches and changes in vision are important symptoms; however, some women with rapidly advancing disease report few symptoms.

Typically, preeclampsia occurs after 20 weeks gestation (in the late 2nd or 3rd trimesters or middle to late pregnancy), though it can occur earlier. Proper prenatal care is essential to diagnose and manage preeclampsia. Pregnancy Induced Hypertension (PIH) and toxemia are outdated terms for preeclampsia. HELLP syndrome and eclampsia (seizures) are other variants of preeclampsia.

"It ain't no Cabbage Patch" is a series on preeclampsia, a life-threatening disorder that occurs only during pregnancy and the postpartum period. Preeclampsia and related disorders such as HELLP syndrome and eclampsia are most often characterized by a rapid rise in blood pressure that can lead to seizure, stroke, multiple organ failure and death of the mother and/or baby. 

Join me and my team LilCoCo at the May  12  Promise Walk to the benefit the Preeclampsia Foundation in Challenge Grove Park in Cherry Hill, NJ.