Kourtney's Blog

When I was twelve my sweet mom had a stroke. She was 39. When I was 32 my little sister had a massive brain bleed. She was 29. On Wednesday, I turned 37.

True confession? I’ve been internally bracing myself for my turn.

Last Monday, at my annual check up, I told my wonderful doctor about a nagging noise in my ear. She asked four times if it was a pulse or a woosh. I told her it had rhythm. This classifies as a pulse.

FYI, doctors prefer a woosh to a pulse.

Her gut is that it’s a problem with my allergies and ears, but she ordered an MRI and an MRA to rule out an aneurysm and a tumor. I cried. Our dear friend Bob, a gifted neurologist, called and concurred with her evaluation and the tests. I cried again.

Monday morning, Rich will take his claustrophobic bride of almost 13 years to Florida Hospital for a moderately sedated MRI and MRA. We’ve talked a lot. I’ve cried a lot. Are you seeing the same pattern that I am? There are A LOT of tears this week.

Tonight, in tears again, on the couch of a trusted friend, I listened to wise words from a woman who has walked with Jesus much longer than me. Her counsel?

1. Thank God. No matter what. This is a non-negotiable for her. Thank you God that you are allowing the depth of this fear to surface. I want to learn to trust you with this.

2. Imagine myself taking the yoke off and rolling in onto Jesus. I’ve been carrying this fear around for 25 years. It’s time to give it to the only person who can really do something about it.

3. Be honest with God. He can handle it. God, I am sad that this is part of my story. I wish that I trusted you more. I don’t know how to get rid of this fear. Will you rescue me?

4. Consider that this situation is like putting my hand in a glass jar, closing my fist, and then trying to pull my hand out of the jar. What am I holding onto so tightly that I am stuck? God, thank you that you love my husband and children more than I do. Thank you that your plans for them are even better than mine are. Please help me to open my hand and to entrust them to you more fully.

I look forward to Monday afternoon when the test is over. But more than anything, I look forward to honestly giving thanks for all things to a God who can handle all of me and help me open the clenched fist containing my fears and my burdens.

I am on Day 16 of something a little crazy, crazy for me at least. My dear friend, Kelly, spent her birthday month wearing the same black dress. Everyday!

I’ve followed suit with a white shirt.

Why, you ask? To raise money and awareness for The Daughter Project. It is a non-profit organization in Northwest Ohio that exists to help girls recover from the trauma of sex trafficking and helps to prevent others from being trafficked. I have great respect for the International Justice Mission, which exists to free people around the world who are victims of sex slavery, but I had no idea how much sex slavery existed in my own backyard.

My friend Kelly ends her 30 days of the black dress on her birthday, tomorrow, which will be my 17th day donning the same white shirt. I am ending on my 37th birthday, Wednesday, March 30th. In lieu of birthday gifts this year, I am asking that my peeps give a contribution to The Daughter Project so that they can complete a housing facility that the girls can live in during their rehabilitation and care.

In case you are wondering, I can wash the shirt. I do wear different shoes and jewelry occasionally, but the simplicity has been sweet on many fronts. My Mom and our sweet friend Kathy joined me, so they are sharing the message of freedom in Texas.

Please let me know if you have any questions. Please join me in praying that many, many women will be set free thanks to the brave people from The Daughter Project, IJM, and other organizations like them.

There is nothing like your child’s answers during a Children’s Sermon to hone in on your growth areas.

Case in point: New Covenant Family Service December 2010.

Kids gather in the front to hear a meaningful homily. Children’s speaker Anthony asks the kids “what’s the first word that you think of when you think of your parents?” Darling Street child says “computer” without flinching. Congregation laughs. Inside I am scrambling.

Did he say that because his Dad helps lead the international virtual ministry for our organization and often works from home?

Did he say that because our home flooded and I am frequently working on the computer trying to find contractors and order materials?

Did he say that because I am researching medical things for our sick son and often sitting at the computer desk scrambling for information?

Or…

Did he say that because he is experiencing us as distracted and unavailable to his emotional needs?

Has he experienced me as overwhelmed? I have been overwhelmed. He’s onto me.

Should I bag this blog and close my Facebook account?

Or the best solution…Should we ban all technology from our home and move to a farm ASAP?

Or all of the above?

I felt so exposed. I felt scared. I felt like a horrible mom.

Thankfully, after initially panicking, I asked Jesus to use this one word to show me the truth, to not try to hide or defend or to clamor.

Later I asked Joseph what he meant by what he said. I asked him what he thought Anthony meant by his question. He told me that Anthony asked what our jobs were. Whew! That was definitely a different question than what was asked. But it was too late. God’s good work had already begun. He was honing in on a much-needed growth area for me and for my husband.

We’ve been much more conscientious about what our time on the computer looks like. We’ve set boundaries with ourselves and with each other. Most importantly, we’re keeping the conversation going with the Lord, ourselves, each other and trusted friends.

I finished the day that Sunday evening by asking Joseph “how does mom show love to you?” He answered several beautiful things that made me think that although not perfect, maybe I wasn’t such a horrible mom after all.

But thanks to one word in a Children’s Sermon, how we live out our our priorities is being refined.

I hope we are brave enough for it to last a lifetime.

Almost a year ago, God blessed me with the kindness of a stranger who showed me the ropes of living Gluten-free. I wrote this post hours after returning from a crash course at her home. Since I implemented her plan, Joseph has continued to grow, and I’ve been able to return the favor to other wonderful mommies who are attempting to cook and live differently so that their children with gluten related issues will thrive.

I am not sure why I didn’t initially publish this. Maybe it felt too vulnerable to share the hope that cooking Gluten-free was going to be part of the answer to Joseph’s health struggles. As many of you know, the changes have made a huge difference. So in honor of the almost 9 month anniversary of living Gluten Free, I am finally pressing ‘publish.’

This weekend I was incredibly blessed to spend 2 hours at the home of an amazing woman who quite possibly might be an angel disguised as a mom. She is a dear friend of my dear friend Babette.  Kennedy, as she is called by her buddies, cooks G-free for her family as they almost all have Celiac Disease. She opened her kitchen and heart to me as she showed me the ropes of snacking and cooking without gluten so that your kids and their friends don’t know it. I left with a stack of recipes and resources, a bag of their favorite G-free foods, and a heart that was brimming with thankfulness that she would spend her Saturday afternoon with a total stranger to ensure that I didn’t have to figure things out on my own the way that she did.

There is such a sacredness to this season in our family. Moments like Saturday, experiencing the kindness of a stranger in such a profound way that I know that God is literally cheering us on and urging us to move forward. Of course if I could snap my fingers, or cut off my fingers, for Joseph to be totally well I would.  But until then, thanks Kennedy and thanks God for sending her.

On their kitchen wall was a plaque that touched me deeply. I copied it, and now it’s one of the first things that you see when you walk in our home. (I added the part about the messes and spills b/c you just can’t describe a family full of boys without it!)

In the Streets’ Home

We do second chances.

We do grace.

We do real.

We do messes and spills.

We do mistakes.

We do I’m sorrys.

We do loud really well.

We do hugs.

We do family.

We do love.

Thanks, Kennedy. Thanks, God.