by jphilo | Oct 31, 2014 | Different Dream for My Child, Vlog Series
The Different Dream vlog series is bac for another Friday read aloud from A Different Dream for My Child: Meditations for Parents of Critically or Chronically Ill Children. Maybe this week has been a particularly long and trying one for you. If that’s the case (and even if it’s not), now is your time to enjoy a little pampering. So grab a cup of tea, kick off you shoes, put up your feet and have a listen to this week’s selection, A Gentle Touch.
The story describes our first glimpse of our newborn son in NICU after major surgery in 1982. In the decades since, many NICU protocols and practices have changed. But one thing hasn’t change a bit. Our hospitalized children need the comforting touch of their parent to heal faster, and parents need the touch of a loving God to stay strong while their children recuperate.
To listen to this episode in the Different Dream vlog series, click on over to DifferentDream.com.
by jphilo | Oct 3, 2014 | Different Dream for My Child, Vlog Series
Friday’s here, so it’s time for a new episode in the Different Dream vlog series for parents of kids with special needs. Though if you’re not a parent, you are welcome to stick around for a peek at what it’s like to raise children with special needs and disabilities. This post is the last one in the diagnosis section of A Different Dream for My Child: Meditations for Parents of Critically or Chronically Ill Children.
It’s called “Aching Arms,” and I had to record it two times before I could get through it without crying. The memory of holding our baby without a single tube or wire makes my eyes fill with tears every time. If you get teary at stories like that, grab a tissue before you watch the video below.
You can watch the “Aching Arms” vlog post at DifferentDream.com.
Photo Credit: phanlop88 at www.freedigitalphotos.net
by jphilo | Oct 14, 2009 | Reflections on the Past
Today was not as productive as I hoped it would be. A speaking engagement in Des Moines went longer than expected, so my departure for the Council Bluffs/Omaha area was delayed. Combine that with faulty Map Quest directions to Children’s Hospital, and I didn’t get there in time to meet Sheila, the cordial hospital chaplain who I had contacted by phone about dropping of complimentary copies of A Different Dream for My Child.
Oh well, I thought after calling Sheila and explaining why I wouldn’t make it and offering to mail books to her after this business trip, there’s still time to get to the University of Nebraska Hospital with their complimentary copies.
Rain began to fall as I drove east toward the corner of Dodge and 42nd. Though twenty-seven years have passed since Allen’s three week stay in the U of Nebraska Hospital’s NICU, and evidence of new construction was evident, the area around the hospital felt familiar. About two blocks west of the hospital intersection, a faded orange sign on the north side of the road caught my eye.
Village Inn. It was still there, looking tired and unkept. The sight of it brought back memories of hurried breakfasts after nights of fitful, worried sleep. I thought of meals eaten but not tasted, of food bolted down in the rush to return to Allen’s side in the NICU. Then I thought of Susan, our baby’s primary nurse – was her last name Bristol? – who greeted us each time we returned and lovingly told us every little thing Allen had done in our absence.
Unexpected tears blurred my vision. I turned south on 42nd Street, blinking them away in time with the windshield wipers. Somehow, I managed to locate the main entrance to the hospital. It had changed, but the chaplains’ receptionist had given good directions. I parked and located the office, but the door was locked, the room was dark. I sat on a bench and scrawled a quick note, explaining my delay. For the second time in an hour, I promised to mail their books once I arrive home.
And, I optimistically and unrealistically asked, have you ever heard of a nurse named Susan who worked in the NICU in 1982? Her last name might be Bristol, though I’m not sure. She left NICU a number of years ago to manage a different unit, though I don’t know which one. I want to contact her, I explained, because she loved our son so much. Then I wrapped the note around a few business cards and slipped the little bundle under the door.
I walked back to my car, knowing the likelihood of locating Susan in a hospital as vast as this one was. But that didn’t matter. And neither did the missed appointments. All that mattered was the love Susan gave our baby, the tender care she lavished on him in our absence. Her love is a part of him, and I hope they meet some day.
I did what I could to make that happen. My day was not wasted at all.
by jphilo | Jan 25, 2008 | Book Updates
If you’re wondering about the picture, it’s a blood pressure cuff. It will be twenty-six years old this May, the same age as our son who spent the first two and a half weeks of his life in in the neonatal intensive care unit at the University of Nebraska hospital in Omaha.
For years, while he endured more surgeries and procedures, the cuff was hidden in of his box of baby things. But now it hangs near his six month picture, in my office. I put it there so I wouldn’t forget the babies and parents going through heart-wrenching experiences every day.
For a long time, I’ve been asking God what I could do to help those hurting families. In a week or so, I may get an answer. My book proposal, A Different Dream for My Child: Meditations for Parents of Critically and Chronically Ill Children, has been at Discovery House Publishers since August. The publisher called me in late November to tell me that they loved the proposal, but because it focused on such a niche audience they weren’t sure it was feasible. Still the marketing committee wanted time to brainstorm strategies and see if they could develop a viable plan.
The editor emailed me yesterday and said they’ve run the numbers and will meet next week to make a final decision. I have no clue as to the outcome. All I know is that hurting parents need this book. So if you think of it this week, would you pray for the committee and for me?
Pray that they would make the right decision based on the information they’ve gathered. And pray that I would accept their decision with grace and move forward with confidence. Because whatever they decide, I can’t shake the conviction that God has a way for me to minister to those parents and their children. The blood pressure cuff won’t let me.
