The three little cowboys and I are at kids' camp with our church this week. The people, the worship, and the teaching are fantastic. The food is questionable; the weather is hot. Both of those were to be expected.
On this day, my heart is heavy. Precious leaders in our church who I have been privileged to count among my friends moved halfway across the country to serve another church just weeks ago. This morning their fourth child, a daughter, was born. Baby Blake has a severe heart malfunction and she remains in critical condition, her hours-old life hanging in the balance.
My cousin is the mother to a darling five-year-old girl who suffers from a rare muscular disease. Her enzyme levels skyrocketed today, and she has been admitted to the hospital. Each "episode" that Ellia has is life-threatening.
I had a regularly-scheduled CT scan a couple of weeks ago. I received an "all clear," only to have the doctor and radiologist re-read the film and find a small mass. I will have a biopsy done on Monday to determine what it is and what to do about it.
There is another situation happening within my home that is too large and too hard to put out there just yet. I am in a place that is isolating and terribly frightening. My three boys are why I get out of bed each morning and give it my best, in spite of my fear.
And then, in a worship service in the middle of nowhere surrounded by hundreds of children, God gave me a song. He promises to do that, you know: "He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God." Psalm 40:3
I am begging him for favor and mercy for myself, and for those who are close to my heart. He is able, and He is good.