Got to have a little faith, faith, faith. I gotta have faith-uh, faith-- faith.

Best line George Michael ever warbled.

Yesterday was plain awful.  I was reminded of how fragile everything is, how everything we've worked toward can becomee undone just like that.  And I was reminded (once again) of the more important lesson of how very merciful God is. 

In early January our medical benefits got canceled due to a misunderstanding on Michael's part about some paperwork he needed to turn in.  We turned in an appeal and we were told that it shouldn't be a problem to have the benefits reinstated once the error was fixed.  And yesterday our appeal was denied.  We were told we could appeal again but that the decision was highly unlikely to be overturned.  This news made me sick to my stomach.

See, we NEED our benefits.  We use them every single week.  We use them for Frankie's therapy, for her maintenance meds, for my maintenance meds, for a growing baby who has to have shots and checkups more often.  I mean, we really use our benefits.  Frankie has therapy twice a week.  Adam has therapy once a week.  We have family therapy 2-3 times per week.  We really, really use our benefits.  And because we were confident that our benefits would be reinstated once the paperwork issue got sorted out, we have really, really used our benefits over the past three months while this whole mess was being sorted out.  We have used probably close to $15,000 worth of benefits already this year.  And we were again, confident,  those bills would be paid retroactively by our insurance provider once this whole mess was straightened out.  We were confident in the reassurances about said reinstatement (which we had received from Michael's HR reps and from the benefits management company). And we misplaced that confidence.

And when we learned that we were suddenly liable for a LOT of money in medical bills and had no hope of getting insurance reinstated by Michael's company for 2011 we were staring down the barrel of some terrible decisions and repercussions - like having to file bankruptcy because of our medical bills and not being able to afford the ESSENTIAL medical care and mental health care we needed for ourselves and our children.

Michael really loves his job.  But all in one fell swoop, contained in the word DENIED, he was going to have to find a different job or I was going to have to put our babies in daycare just so I could work for benefits.  Our whole life was going to have to change in a huge and tremendously awful way.  Just like that.

So I did the two things I know how to do.  I got on the phone.  And I prayed.  Well - I didn't pray on the phone.  I did those things separately.

God expects us to do everything we can do for ourselves.  And where we fall short, that is where He picks up the rest.  I did everything I could do.  Michael did everything he could do.  Michael's amazing boss completely went to bat for him.  I started writing our appeal letter.  And then just as quickly as this whole awful mess was started it was miraculously over.

Here's the miracle part:

In early February Michael received a letter requesting that same paperwork that had gotten messed up be sent again.  And he did re-send it.  Only that February letter was never supposed to be sent.  And that original paperwork, which was where the original error was made, was NOT supposed to be re-requested by the company.  The whole denial was based on the fact that there was an error in the original paperwork.  Can you believe that?  A company can change an entire family's life forever on a technicality.  Just like that.  So the second request that got sent out was a glitch-- a glitch!!!  A God-granted, God-given glitch.  Because that second paperwork was sent out though, because of that glitch, the legal team decided that it was in everybody's best interest to reinstate our benefits retroactively.  And, just so you know, we were told that things like this never happen.

Faith and gratitude?  Oh, yeah.   

BIG TIME.

If bird is the word what's the sentence?

Well, actually bird wasn't the word.  Today's post is about first words and sentences.

First, we define each child's first word as a word they use with correct intent.

Adam's first word was..."please."

Thomas' first word was..."hi"

And Max's first word was uttered today.

It is only used while holding the phone up to his ear.  It is:


"Hello"

Um, perhaps mommy spends a little too much time on the phone.

I honestly don't remember Adam's first sentences or phrases, but I do know what Thomas' first two complete sentences were.  The first one took place while we were in the car.

Thomas, looking outside remarked, "Look, mom, cars.  I like cars."

His second sentence was uttered as I was going upstairs to shower.  He said, "No, mom.  Don't go upstairs.  Stay here."

These are the moments that may seem so insignificant, but really are the MOST significant.  These are the moments when being a parent is worth every tough moment.

Rain, rain go away

Ever feel like it's pouring rain and your umbrella is M.I.A.?

Life is raining right now.  We are going through a very stressful time.  I cannot post the details because they are that personal, that painful.  We're going through rough times.

A long time ago I told my daughter that sometimes in life we bump our hip on the corner of the table and our reaction is minimal.  "Oh, that hurt."  And sometimes we're so stressed from other stuff that that same bump, that same pain, makes us burst into tears. 

The hip bumps that are coinciding with our tough time would be painful enough in less stressful times - Frankie and her boyfriend breaking up (causing her to be so much more volatile and eruptive), gratefully being able to pay for one car's very expensive repair only to find out that our other car now needs a repair we don't have money for, our local gym closing and the only other options being literally FIVE times the cost of the old gym AND on top of that the trainer at the new gym telling me that if I'm truly committed to getting healthy I'll find a way to raise the extra $900 they want for assessments and extra programs.  These hip bumps each bring me near (and to) tears. 

And God is good.  He always finds a way to send comfort - candles in the dark.  Old friends lifting us, comforting us as we fight to heal, a kind neighbor who doesn't ask what's wrong, only drops off dinner knowing that something's wrong, new friends who don't judge and just listen.

We are, without question, being blessed.  We've found support systems we didn't know existed.  We're taking time to really examine our lives and our priorities.  We're not gonna drown in this rain.  We're doing our best to use this water as nourishment to grow from.


So I'm not blogging much because some things must be kept to ourselves.  I know though that friends are praying for us.  And we love each of you.  And when the rain slows to a trickle we'll reach out again. 

Now if I could just find that umbrella.