Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Snoke Theories, Episode II

"If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

He watched his protégé and best friend, whom he loved like a brother, slowly turn bad. He fought his friend through lava flows that would burn away said friend's limbs and severely maim him in other ways, causing him to need a mask to breathe. I ask you, is this the action of a friend?

Then, Anakin out of the way for the moment, he contrived to separate Anakin's children and not tell his "dear friend" the joyful news that he was a father. He would spend the next few years as a hermit on a desolate island, only starting to be helpful when Anakin's daughter asked for help, and Anakin's son came to him with a droid with a message. Then he handed the whiny brat of a Luke a deadly weapon before telling him what it was. What if Luke had pressed the wrong button with the lightsaber pointed at himself? When that scheme didn't work, he made up some harebrained story about Darth Vader killing Luke's father - which he would later explain away by claiming it was true "from a certain point of view." Whatever.

Then, next time he saw old Anakin, he declared pompously, "If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." So, always willing to help a friend, Anakin took Obi-Wan's advice.

Like Yoda, Obi-Wan just disappeared. Like Yoda, I didn't see a body. Did he die? Like Yoda, he would show up later as a force ghost. He spoke in a creepy voice to Luke telling him to use the force. But were his actions as a ghost particularly powerful? Unless you consider spooky apparitions and voices powerful, not especially.

The last we see him as Obi-Wan, he is a holographic ghost smiling at the pawn he trained to defeat his old friend.

Fast forward about 30 years. A new generation has arisen, and now we see a powerful holographic ghost who is commanding his friend's grandson to commit horrible atrocities.


I rest my case.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Snoke Theories, Episode I

"When 930 years old you reach, be as good you will not."

He has lived his very long life as a small being. He grew up green, with big ears. Though he didn't make a big deal of it that we know of, there is a hint that he was self conscious of his tiny stature:

"Judge me by my size, do you?"

"Size matters not."

It sounds to me like he was trying to convince himself.

The last time we see Yoda, he is lying in bed, dying. But is he dying? He just disappears. I didn't see a body. Oh sure, he shows up later as a force ghost. That just proves that he isn't completely gone. He has become another kind of being. Transparent, but visible to Luke.

Fast forward about 30 years. A new leader has risen. He is holographic and huge. (Remember, Yoda was holographic and tiny last we saw him.) He is transparent at times, and visible to Luke's nephew. Snoke is just as bald as Yoda, but he does not look as good. Clearly, he has aged in that time. His study of the Force has clearly taught him to overcome his tiny size and long poiny ears. He is now HUGE! Even seated, he towers over his underlings. Perhaps it's the memory of Darth Vader that turned him bad and made him talk forward. Or maybe it's the influence of General Hux (who looks suspiciously like Bill Weasley ... coincidence? I think not.) and/or Kylo Ren. Snoke seems to be just as respected by the First Order as Yoda was by the Jedi.


Yep. Supreme Leader Snoke is clearly Yoda.

Monday, March 21, 2016

Snoke Theories: Prologue

Supreme Leader Snoke has been the subject of numerous wild theories regarding his identity. Some believe he is Darth Plagueis, the infamous Sith legend. (This has been denied by the powers that be.) Some say he is the youngling who talked to Anakin Skywalker before Anakin slaughtered everyone in the room. Some even say he is Darth Vader or Jar Jar Binks.

These, of course, are ridiculous.

I was watching Star Wars: The Force Awakens the other day and came up with some brilliant theories of my own. I feel confident that one of my theories is accurate. Time will tell which one it is. The next few blog posts will detail who I think Snoke is.

Saturday, November 7, 2015

Lessons from Social Media

I wrote most of these back in June of this year and posted them as Facebook statuses. I now present them in blog form. I even memed a few and added some bonus lessons not seen previously.

***

Bacon and coffee are essential to your continued survival, and must be photographed, memed, and otherwise shared with utmost respect and awe. Then eaten and drunk.



LOL also stands for "lots of love." (No it doesn't.)

The world must be alerted when you have "the feels."

All pictures of cats, dogs and velociraptors must be shared.

Any fact check can begin and end with Snopes or Wikipedia. Or The Daily Currant.

All members of the political party you oppose are the Devil incarnate.

The latest death in Game of Thrones, Doctor Who, or any other show you enjoy, is an international tragedy. That also goes for books, such as Harry Potter.

If you do not share this status, either you are completely heartless, or you are ashamed of Jesus and He will deny you before the Father. Or both.

It is absolutely necessary to video yourself singing "Let It Go" and share it with the world. Extra credit if it goes viral enough for Disney to take notice and block the video for copyright infringement.

The Onion, The Daily Currant, The Duffel Blog and other satire websites are reputable sources of news. Definitely take them seriously.

"I disagree with you" = "I hate you and your kind."

Love = complete agreement and approval

If you disagree with someone, it is absolutely necessary to hurl profanity-laced insults at them. Because random strangers appreciate being called every name unfit to be printed in the book?

Everyone you feel is wrong with the world must be informed of their "wrong with the world" status.

Did someone say something that unintentionally hurt your feelings? They absolutely aimed it at you and meant it as a personal and public insult. This person must be taught a sharp lesson by being unfriended, and for extra credit, blocked. This will automatically convert them to your way of thinking. But you won't know it because you blocked them. Alternatively, you can unfriend them and send them a PM explaining what a lowlife they are.

Doctor Who has a quote for everything. If Doctor Who does not have a quote for it, make up a quote and put it on a picture of The Doctor.

Feel strongly about something? Post a status instructing everyone who disagrees with you to unfriend you now.

Every trip to the gym must be carefully documented and shared for the world to see. (Note: while these can get annoying, I have found that when I do share it, it helps keep me accountable. So don't get after people too much for this. They need encouragement, not "cease and desist" notices.)

If all else fails, put your profound (or not-so-profound) idea in a meme. Extra credit: attribute your idea to Einstein. Or Lincoln. Or a Minion.



Always be yourself, unless you can be anyone or anything else, real or fictional. Then be anyone or anything else, real or fictional.

You can combat negativity by posting pictures of superheroes, cartoon characters, or other positive subjects.

Everyone knows the key to fixing the world's problems, and everyone else is clueless and must be told how.

You can't draw worth beans? No problem. Just draw an ugly face and use it to troll others. It will go viral and your poor excuse for a drawing will gain memingful immortality. (Like the word I just made up?)

When God (who is apparently an old man with a long white beard), who makes no mistakes, created every single person in the world, He stood at a table with a beaker, and added a dose of this, a dose of that, and... oops! The perfect God who doesn't make mistakes accidentally spilled His entire supply of a third ingredient into the potion!

It is absolutely necessary to know which character of every show in existence you are.

You will be SHOCKED OUT OF YOUR SENSES what happens when you click on this clickbaity link!

He used clickbait, and THIS happened! LOL!

Minions are surprisingly philosophical.

Always photograph what you are eating.

Memes count as news, and they are definitely accurate.


Anything at all (with the possible exception of Fifty Shades of Grey) is still a better love story than Twilight.

The Doctor must under no circumstances be called Doctor Who. That is not his name. Never mind that's how he was credited until recently, and he was often called Doctor Who in the classic series.



Never mind what Back to the Future says about Marty McFly coming to the future on October 21, 2015. That day is TODAY. In fact, it's been many days since at least 2012.

#Always #use #hashtags. Better yet, ‪#‎overuse‬ ‪#‎hashtags.


If anyone wishes you "Happy Holidays," they are part of a dastardly scheme to take Christ out of Christmas and must be chastised accordingly. Anything less than "Merry Christmas" must be greeted with Scrooge-like anger.

If anyone dares mention Christmas before Thanksgiving, they must be publicly chastised for their crimes against humanity.




Saturday, October 24, 2015

Clickbait and Adbait

Public Service Announcement: The following words and phrases may actually make me LESS likely to click on your link:

  • This will blow your mind
  • What happened next? 
  • I gasped.
  • I'm SPEECHLESS
  • actually, almost anything in ALL CAPS
  • Lots of exclamation points!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • Shocking
  • Spread this absolutely everywhere! 
  • vague comments like "he said THIS" or "THIS happened"
  • using pronouns rather than specifying the person 
  • Like if...
  • Share if...
  • Retweet/Re-post/Reblog if...
  • One like/share = one prayer
  • Like = ________, Comment =_______, Share = ________
  • Like to show respect
  • anything that tries to guilt me into clicking, liking or sharing
  • Jesus says that if you deny me before men, I will deny you before God
  • anything implying I am heartless if I don't click, like, comment or share
  • Share this in 30 seconds or something terrible will happen
  • Sadly, only 12% will share this. It should be 100%.
  • anything that definitively predicts the public's reaction to this post, stating specific percentages
  • This weird trick
  • #25 made me react strongly (fall over laughing, pee my pants, throw something out the window, etc.)
  • Excessive foul language
  • Bad grammar or spelling
  • anything that counts the number of words someone used to make their point
  • Watch this person SHUT DOWN their political opponent
  • This person sent their political opponent packing, or did anything else to defeat them (the article or video in question is often about someone making a comment that expressed disagreement, but in no way sent anyone packing, and is sometimes not even true)
  • Is there room for me on your wall? (accompanied by a picture of Jesus)


If I do click on your link, the following might cause me to leave the page quickly:

  • Constantly having to click "next"
  • Excessive ads, especially if I can't scroll without accidentally clicking on one
  • Deceptive ads that have arrows that look like a "next" button
  • Ads that completely cover the screen, blocking what I'm trying to read
  • Ads with videos that auto play
  • Music on your web page that auto plays (even if there are no ads)
  • Pages that force me to watch a video (usually an ad) before allowing me to progress to what is on the page

Note: I have nothing against ads, per se (after all, I have ads on this blog), but I do have a problem with people abusing them.

Saturday, October 3, 2015

Tom Jamieson

Following is the eulogy I wrote for my uncle Tom, who passed away of a heart attack last month. His sisters and my aunt helped me with some of the details. A shorter version was printed in the program, but this is the full eulogy. 

Tom Jamieson was born to John and Helen Irene Jamieson on June 24, 1955 in Omaha, Nebraska. He attended grade school at St. Cecilia's, followed by high school at Creighton Prep. His dad died when he was 12. Tom got a scholarship when he started high school, and he worked his way through to pay tuition. After graduating high school in 1973, he attended the University of Nebraska Omaha for about a year and got a job at the Nebraska Psychiatric Institute. He got married and moved to Seattle in 1977. That marriage only lasted about three years, but his move would start a new chapter in his life.

He worked at Doctor's Hospital in Seattle, which would merge with Swedish. It was there that he met a beautiful young woman. The third time they randomly ran into each other, he joked, "If we don't stop meeting like this, we're going to have to get married." They must have kept meeting like that, because Tom started dating Lois in 1981. They were married in 1984, and their daughter Darcy came along five years later.

After working at Swedish, Tom worked 11 years at Washington Natural Gas, followed by 14 years at Microsoft.

In recent years, he has been active in politics, and he has visited the City Council regularly (much to the chagrin of some of his political opponents). He was the Republican Chair of Washington State's 32nd District, and a Precinct Committee Officer.

Tom and Lois cared for Lois' father Ken Loge until his death in May 2015. Inspired by his father-in-law, Tom started walking regularly, up to six miles a day. Tom and Lois spent what they could not know would be their last summer together walking, going on bike rides, and even sailing on the whale boat where Darcy works.

Tom loved chess, and he won a championship at the age of 16. He was talented in several areas of art. He loved to draw, and he taught himself to play the piano. As a political activist, he made several cartoon videos to illustrate his points.

He was a deep thinker, and was proud of his membership in Mensa, for people with high IQs. He was an excellent writer and researcher, and was always eager to learn more. He had a quick wit and a caring heart.

Following a massive heart attack and a week in the hospital, Tom passed away peacefully. He is survived by his wife Lois and daughter Darcy, his siblings Holly, John, Mary and Kate, and 40 nieces, nephews, great nieces and great nephews. He is preceded in death by his parents and his brother Bill.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Kenneth L. Loge

Following is the eulogy I read at my grandpa's memorial service on Saturday, May 23, 2015 at United Evangelical Free Church in Seattle. It was broken into three segments with other speakers [indicated in square brackets] in between each segment.

***

Ken Loge was born in 1915 and raised on a farm in Cooperstown, North Dakota, the oldest of five boys. He gave his life to Christ at the age of 10 at a summer camp, and as he liked to put it, God gave him a very long and interesting life. After graduating from high school, he became a teacher in a one-room schoolhouse and fell in love with a beautiful woman named Marian.

Then came the draft. He found himself on the way to bootcamp in Louisiana, and it wasn't until later, when he was stationed in Boise, Idaho, that his bride Marian was able to take a train out and they were married in a small ceremony by a pastor they had only just met, witnessed by the pastor's wife and some new neighbors. It was Valentine’s Day 1942. Marian returned home, while Ken went on to serve in New Caledonia, an island off the Australian coast. Thanks to his clerical skills, he was pulled to office duty while the rest of his platoon was sent to Guadalcanal, where most of them were killed in combat. Between that and the Battle of the Coral Sea keeping the Japanese away from their base in New Caledonia, God clearly protected him for a very long and interesting life. He was later reassigned to France and Germany, and he would ride through Paris on a tank, surrounded by jubilant crowds celebrating the Allied Forces’ victory.

Following the war, he returned to the US, where he got a job in the circulation department of the Fargo Forum in Fargo, North Dakota. After two years there, he accepted an offer for a position as circulation manager at the Watertown Public Opinion in South Dakota. Later he would accept a new position as the pastor at a church in Brooks, Alberta, followed by another church in Wainwright, Alberta. Big Timber, Montana followed, and then Salmon Arm, British Columbia. While pastoring in BC, Ken was on the founding board of a new endeavor that they called Trinity Junior College. It would eventually become known as Trinity Western University.

[Here, Inga Warnock of Trinity Western University spoke on Grandpa's legacy at TWU.]

Throughout Ken’s careers at the newspaper and as pastor, he and Marian had five children: two daughters, a son, and two more daughters.

After their ministry was completed in BC, the family moved to Stevensville, Montana, where Ken became pastor. It was during this time that their daughter Linda got a teaching job in Hamilton, Montana, and a student in her class required the special ed expertise of a certain Mr. Sauke. But that’s another story. It was also while they were there that, a few years later, his son Robert was killed in a traffic accident, leaving two young children, Tracy and Jeff.

After Stevensville, God called Ken into a new ministry, and he became administrator of the brand new nursing home that would become known as Kah Tai Care Center in Port Townsend, Washington. He and Marian ministered there alongside George and Virginia Foutz, whose son currently attends United. It was also during this time that they would visit their daughter and son-in-law in Hong Kong, and later in the Philippines. One of my earliest memories is walking with my grandpa Loge to the school where my dad taught and my big brother Tim attended.

Ken’s upbringing and various ministries gave him a passion for reaching the lost for Christ. After retiring from the nursing home, he moved to Ancora Village in Everett, where the Loges, along with Lyle and Florence Vanderpoel, were among the first tenants. While there, Ken became a missions consultant with the Evangelical Free Church Mission, coordinating missionary visits to the churches in the Pacific Northwest and Northern Mountain Districts, in addition to other responsibilities. He was a vital part of the ministries of missionaries around the world.

[Here, Bob Verme, missionary to Japan, spoke on Grandpa's legacy overseas.]

Ken had a vital part in the founding of the Missionary Construction Teams, which has worked on many projects worldwide. During this time, Marian started declining in health, and she lost her battle to cancer in 1989. He was praying with her, and when it came her time to pray, she didn’t say anything. She was too busy singing with the angels. I remember the next morning, when my parents both came in my room to wake me up, half a world away, to tell me my beloved grandma was gone. They had waited until morning to tell me so that I would be able to sleep. That same year, I lost both grandmas, but God would provide two young cousins for Tim, Tracy, Jeff and me, and new granddaughters for my grandpa. Annika and Darcy could not have come at a more perfect time.

Following the loss of Marian, Ken once again visited the Philippines, Hong Kong and Japan. He would come back and report to the churches in the US on the ministries in Asia.

In 1991, we returned to the US, and in 1993, Andrèa joined us to complete the group of grandchildren. Along with my parents and Tim and me, Grandpa went to Hong Kong in the summer of 1994 to teach English, and he would continue to go back for a few summers after that. I was particularly amused that, as he made a practice of walking regularly, those of us who were younger had trouble keeping up with Grandpa as he speed walked down the streets of Hong Kong. While there, he impacted many youth for Christ, and his legacy lives on around the world.

In the following years, he would revisit Europe, where he saw it completely rebuilt from the rubble he had previously seen at the end of the War. He also visited Turkey, Thailand and China, in addition to traveling to Norway to meet relatives in his mother country.

In 2012, his son-in-law Tom accompanied him to Washington, DC, where Ken was honored in the Lone Eagle Honor Flight for his service in the War. This organization brings veterans to see the memorial there in memory of their service around the world. The Mariners would later honor the veterans from the Honor Flight at Safeco Field.

In 2013, he was honored at Trinity Western University for his role in its founding by having a dormitory named after him.

By this time, he was slowing down, but his passion for reaching people for Christ continued unabated. Last May he came to Activate, United’s youth group, and shared about how at the age of 10, he went forward at a summer camp and gave his life to Christ. Just last month, he wrote a letter to each member of Activate urging them to come to Christ if they haven’t already. A week before his death, he prayed passionately for anyone who does not have Christ.

May 9, our family sat vigil in his room. His pain was evident, and he was ready to go. He could hardly talk. We said our good byes, and I asked him to give Grandma a big hug from me. When Annika told him she loved him, he said, “I love you.” Those were the last words I understood from him. In the afternoon his niece Nola arrived. He opened his eyes and acknowledged her. Then he was gone. He was four months short of his 100th birthday.

In previous years, we cousins knew that if Grandpa was leaving the family get-together, we had to hurry to say our good byes. Someone would yell, “Grandpa’s leaving!” and his grandchildren came running. This time, nobody needed to yell. But Grandpa left. I can’t wait to see him again.

In addition to his wife Marian and his son Robert, he is also preceded in death by his parents Swen and Lisa, and four younger brothers, Maynard, Melvin, Truman and Spencer. Ken Loge is survived by four daughters, Linda, Bonnie, Lois and Dori, as well as seven grandchildren – Tim, Tracy, Jeff, Steven, Annika, Darcy and Andrèa – and five great-grandchildren: Austin, Taylor, Autumn, Ava and Katlyn.

Grief

My grandpa passed away on Saturday, May 9. I wrote the following a week later on May 16.

Grief is a funny thing. I sat with my family at my grandpa's bedside last Saturday and watched him struggle to breathe, struggle to talk. All I could understand was when he told my cousin Annika, "I love you." We all said good bye, and I had trouble getting out my request that he give my grandma a big hug. My mom's cousin arrived, and he acknowledged her presence, and then was gone. I knew it was coming, and I hoped it was a false alarm. But no pulse. I was OK for a few minutes, but then the tears came back. We made calls to family and to church.

Tuesday, I returned to work. One of my coworkers is Colombian, and I like practicing my Spanish with her. I thought maybe I wouldn't have too much trouble if I told her in Spanish. I was wrong. Tears.

I expected to be emotional at the viewing and graveside service yesterday (Friday). It was deeply moving. I stood in front of my hero's casket and looked at him. I liked how he had a bit of a smirk (which he did not have when he died... I'm not sure if that happened naturally when they closed his mouth, or what), and I rejoiced that he was finally free of his pain. He's in glory with my grandma in the presence of Jesus. Our family friend Mark Halstrom spoke eloquently at the grave site next to the flag-draped coffin. A soldier played Taps on the bugle, and then the soldiers folded the flag and presented it to my mom. It was an amazing, moving ceremony. But I was not expecting the lack of tears at the graveside. I've felt a mixture of pain, relief and joy that he is no longer suffering.

Then this morning, as I was pulling out of the driveway, I drove over a snail. I had tried to save its life by kicking it out of the way before leaving, but it wouldn't budge. I tried to avoid it, but the tire rolled over it and smushed it. That was more traumatic than it would have otherwise been.

Then, this evening, after not crying (much) for a few days, I noticed my grandpa's World War II Veteran hat sitting on the couch. And lost it. The flag pin on it is askew. I was always fixing that when he wore it. I was slightly baffled how I could stand in front of his body and not cry, but then lose it when I noticed his hat.

Grandpa, I miss you! See you soon!

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Paul Heaven

It was 1991. We had just gotten back to the US from the Philippines, with plans to return in a year. In previous furloughs, we had lived on Washington State's Olympic Peninsula, but this time we would be east of the Puget Sound, attending United Evangelical Free Church in Seattle.

I remember the first social gathering we attended. I met the Heavens and the Beckmans, two couples who would grow to be great friends, and both couples would become important in my life. Along with several other youth, we walked from church to the nearby Westernco Donuts (they have amazing apple fritters). Having just returned from the tropical Philippines, I was freezing. It was July. My 13-year-old mind was wondering how many degrees below 0 it was, while everyone else was wearing t-shirts and shorts.

At that time, we had weekly potlucks at church. Paul and Cathy Heaven had a great sense of humor, and they would bring angeled eggs to the potlucks on occasion. After all, if your name is Heaven, why would you think of bringing deviled eggs?

That summer, we had a church campout north of Seattle, and one day we went for a hike up Sauk Mountain. As we approached the trailhead from the parking lot, we encountered a sign-in sheet, and we signed in. We had a good laugh as the previous group had signed "The Heavenly Host"...and here we were with the Heavens! (When we got to the top, we got to introduce the Heavens to the Heavenly Host.) Sometime earlier, a minor landslide had taken out parts of the path up the hill, and consequently, parts of the switch-back path were narrower than the rest. With my fear of heights, I was terrified as we went over those parts. It was Paul who took my hand each time we reached a narrow part and got me across. I don't know how I would have made it up the hill without him there to help. That increased my respect for him, and when we got back home, I made some blackberry jam to thank him. (It was blackberry season, and as we didn't have blackberries in the Philippines, I made the most of it.)

Paul went out of his way to spend time with me, and he had a great ministry. At a time when I was known by my peers at school for not going to the cinema, he took me to my first cinematic movie. 101 Dalmatians was being re-released, and it was the first movie I ever saw in a regular theater.

As 1992 came along, they started expecting their first child. It was an exciting time, and near the end of the year, little Ethan was born. Cathy taught me how to hold him, and Ethan was the first baby I held properly. It was a very memorable day.


Though we ended up not returning to the Philippines as we were planning, Paul and Cathy and Ethan had to move on. We kept in touch off and on, and we heard about more kids joining their "Heavenly host." I have yet to meet their other kids (who are mostly grown by now), but maybe I will someday.

Years later, we got word that Paul had come down with cancer. They caught it, but it came back. After months of struggles, I got word this morning that my dear friend slipped into the presence of his Savior.

I am so grateful to Paul and Cathy for reaching out to me (literally at times) and loving a missionary kid who felt more at home in the Philippines. That they would take time to get to know me, just to hang out at times, and to help in other ways as well, spoke volumes. They were instrumental in my transition to 8th grade and high school in the US, and if not for them, I would not be who I am today. I only hope I can be as caring and helpful to others as they were to me.

Thank you, Paul. I look forward to seeing you in Heaven.

Now please excuse me while I go cry...


Cathy has done a great job of keeping people updated here. Check it out for more on these amazing people.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Joshua

Yesterday I participated in the Puget Sound Heart Walk. It is an annual event to raise money for research on heart disease and stroke. I walked in honor of three amazing people, and I thought it might be cool to share their stories. You can donate here.

Jill and Shane are amazing parents. They had two children already, and were now expecting their third. But when Joshua arrived, he only had half a heart. I have Jill's permission to share his story from her blog.

---

I am a mother. I'll admit though, sometimes not a very good one. 

I get lazy (can we just say- one time I used a dryer sheet on my kids head rather than give him a bath?!), I raise my voice, and my house is hardly ever clean. But one thing is for sure: I love my children. 

Joshua is the 2nd youngest of my 4 children. He was born August 16, 2010. He has been the child, who in his short life, has stretched me in ways I never could imagine. (read through my blog from April 20, 2010 for more on this) We have spent his entire life, from pregnancy to birth and beyond, expecting the worst, but hoping for the best.

At 11 weeks gestation, I was diagnosed with a subchorionic hemorrhage. Basically, I was gushing blood (for almost 21 days straight), and doctors found out that there was a hemorrhage between the sac and uterus. It started off small, but within days grew and grew and grew. We were told that it was just a matter of time before Joshua would pass and I would miscarry. I was told that it would be miracle if he made it to 18 weeks.

Well, 18 weeks came and went, the bleeding continued, and I was sent to a specialist. The specialist noticed that Joshua's heart glowed on one of his ultrasounds, but told us not to worry. I did just as he told me. I was stressed enough with the hemorrhage, and didn't want to even think about a heart issue on top of it all. So we went home and continued to trust that God would take care of Joshua.

At our 18 week gender scan (which we had already found out Joshua was a boy at 14 weeks!), the tech couldn't get a good view of the left side of Joshua's heart. She told us that he was laying in a funny position and that it was nothing to worry about. Once again, I chose not to worry. My OB looked over the ultrasound and decided to send us to a fetal/pediatric cardiologist. 

At 22 weeks we made our way down to Indianapolis for our fetal ECHO. It was then that our lives were turned upside down. Joshua was diagnosed with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. 

Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome or HLHS is a Congenital Heart Defect (CHD). Basically, Joshua only has 1/2 of his heart. The left side is hypoplastic, which means that it has not developed or is underdeveloped. 

The treatment for HLHS is a set of 3 open heart surgeries to "reroute" his heart. The Norwood surgery is the first surgery and took place at 3 days old on August 19, 2010. The Glenn should take place around 6 months old, and the Fontan is typically be performed between 2 and 3 years of age. He also had a shunt revision due to the shunt being too large which resulted in poor oxygen profusion to his body. That took place September 27, 2010.

Joshua was a fighter, and survived all sorts of odds in his short little life. We are amazed at his beauty and how perfectly God has created him- Broken heart and all!

On Oct. 6, 2010, Joshua's purpose here on Earth had been fulfilled and God called him Home. Joshua left this world in my arms and went directly into the arms of Jesus for complete healing. 

Our journey through life without Joshua is now just beginning. Thank you for joining us as we learn to live, love, and laugh again.

----

Posted Thursday, October 10, 2010:

This post is deeply DEEPLY personal. It is raw, and will probably be hard for some to read. 

I want to share with you my memories from the morning that Joshua died. The details from that morning are what haunt me at night. I am seeking counseling for PTSD, but it is good for me to get it out....to talk about it...to share it with others....if it doesn't make sense, I'm sorry. I'm not going to reread it or edit it.

Wed. Oct. 6, 2010


My dad was coming to spend the day with me. I was tired of sitting around the hospital by myself, and had decided that I could really use some company. My dad graciously accepted to come down and spend the day with me.

He called me at around 7:40am to tell me he was on his way. He also woke me up. You see, I had stayed late at the hospital the night before, and I had planned on sleeping in that morning. After my dad woke me up, I decided to quickly get out of bed, shower, and get over to the hospital to spend some quality time with my little man before my dad showed up.

I got to the hospital around 8:15. When I walked past the window to Joshua's room, I saw that he was kicking his feet, most likely crying. I entered his room and sure enough, he was crying. I quickly put my bags down, and went to his crib. I picked him up and said "Good Morning my sweet baby!!! How are you today? I've missed you." I gently kissed his head, and he immediately calmed down. I rocked him in my arms for a few minutes as I continued to snuggle him.

After being there for about 5 mintues or so, his O2 alarms started going off. They were in the low 60's (which for an HLHS baby a O2 sat that low is not completely uncommon.) I watched it and didn't panic, because it usually popped back up to the low 70's fairly quickly. After a few minutes of it being low, i finally started to worry. Joshua was calm, and I didn't want to put him down. After another minute, the nurse came in and decided to turn up his oxygen. He was up at 90%. We watched him for a few minutes, and his sats kept going lower and lower.

He was still calm, and was not blue. We messed with the pulse ox some (it was known to not pick up very well, and it was not correlating very well with the heart rate- so we thought maybe it was a bit of a malfunction). By the time we were done adjusting his pulse ox, his sats were in the 40's. That is when his heart rate started dropping. It quickly went from a healthy 148 bpm to 110, 105, 100, 90......

The nurse saw that and immediately yelled out Joshua's door for help. The doctor was in immediately and I laid him on his bed. By that time, his breathing was labored, and he was extremely dusky in color and he was looking up at me with those beautiful eyes that were screaming at me "Mommy help me...help me!!!" I frantically tried to get the mobile off of his crib to allow the doctor full view of Joshua while she was working on him. She immediately started chest compressions and told me to leave the room.

I stumbled out of the room and made it only about 2 feet out of the door before I fell to my knees and started begging God for mercy. Somehow I knew that this was it. Joshua's sweet life was coming to an end.

The nurses called for the crash cart and a ventilator. People rushed passed me as I kneeled on the floor praying crying out to God. Finally a nurse came and got me and took me to the quiet room. She sat and talked to me for  a minute, quickly explained everything that was going on, and promised that she would come back and keep me updated. She told me that they had already given Joshua 1 shot of epinephrin (totally butchered that spelling.) and that his heart was beating with the help of chest compressions. She told me to call Shane and that she would be right back.

I called Shane and told him what was going on. I called my mom. I texted facebook and blogger to get people praying. I did the only things that I could do- spread the word so that prayers could be going up. As I talked to Shane, I told him that I felt like we were going to have to choose when enough was enough. He told me I was wrong, but I knew. I knew this was the end. (Thankfully, we never had to make that choice, Joshua made it for us.)

The nurse came back in and told me they were still working on him. They were still doing chest compressions, and that things weren't looking good. He was hooked up to the vent. They had given him another 6 shots of epinephrin and they had just a tiny pulse. I will never forget the look on that nurse's face. I will never forget the next words that came out of her mouth. She said "Jill, you need to come in and hold your baby."

She led me out of the room and back to Joshua's room. The room was packed with more people than I could count and it looked like a war zone. There were syringes all over the place, machines, wires, boxes, tubes, wrappers everywhere. They pulled up my recliner next to his bed and gently lifted Joshua's limp blue body into my arms as I sat down. I held him, told him I loved him, and prayed for him. I asked Jesus to heal my sweet baby in His arms. They turned off the machines, the vent, the monitors and Joshua was gone at 8:58am.

My precious baby that I had loved and fought for. He was gone. I sat in stunned silence- knowing that I would never see his beautiful eyes look up at me again. I asked the nurses to take the vent out of his mouth and to disconnect the tubes and wires. I asked for them to take all of the equipment out of his room. It was just me and him for a few brief seconds.

I knew I had to call Shane. By that time, he was already on his way down. I will never forget our brief conversation. I told him that Joshua was gone. Shane cried out, pleading with God. "NO!!! NO!!! NO!!!!" I told him that I was holding him and that I would hold him until he got there. I told him that I loved him and to please drive safely. The pain was unbearable. If I could carry the pain for him, I would have in a second. Seeing him go through it, and dealing with the pain of Joshua's loss was enough to almost kill me.

By the time I hung up with Shane the chaplain had come in. She asked if I wanted to be alone, and I told her I didn't. The nurses asked if they could call anyone for me and I gave them a few people to call. I sat with my baby, lifeless in my arms, and told him how good God is no matter what. I said it over and over and over. "God is still good sweet Joshua, God is still good." I prayed, I cried, I worshipped, I rocked my sweet baby.

I know this is probably hard for you to read. It's something that I relive every night before I fall asleep. I can't get the images of him dying out of my head. The images and thoughts and feelings are enough to make physically sick.

Writing is so deeply personal and therapeutic for me, and the fact that I am able to write about it speaks volumes about my healing. Thank you for sharing this burden with me and for praying us through this.

Picture by Jill Haskins. Used with permission.