Long story short, I asked for prayer for a healing miracle, and we’re well on our way. Our amazing dentist, Dr. Larry Devese, who loves God and our family, had us come in right away yesterday morning and spent 90 minutes giving Ava lots of novocaine and moving her teeth back in place as best he could. We have a long way to go, but we’re filled with hope. And gratitude. (Please keep praying for her. She’s in a lot of pain.)

I’ll be honest. When we first got the call about Ava (we weren’t with her, but thankfully the rest of Gabe’s family was there to comfort her), I’ll admit that I wasn’t very happy with God’s timing. First Gabe has a heart attack, and just when we’re finally getting used to our new routine, we up and leave for 5 weeks in Cambodia. And then we’ve got jet lag times five, and just when we’re finally getting over the hump, more trauma, this time for our little girl.

And then the money. We paid off both cars this year and were excited to tackle our last debt besides our house (Gabe’s school bill), and then the heart attack bills start flooding in (our homecoming mail on January 13 was a delightful mixture of 4-week-old Christmas cards and 2nd and 3rd notices from the hospital). And now, hello orthodontist.

And then God gently reminded me that, “Hey, you know I’m with you, right? Your husband shouldn’t have survived his Widow Maker artery being 100% blocked. I saved his life. And made him whole. And you remember when Cambodia was just a dream? Remember when you had $340 in the Cambodia Fund and wondered when on earth you’d ever get there? And your baby girl? She could’ve had a brain injury or paralysis, but instead she just has a couple teeth we need to fix, and I created little mouths to heal so quickly.”

And I just cried. Because I did remember. I do remember. And I remember something that happened on December 21, something we never shared because, after seeing how Gabe’s heart attack affected his poor mama in Africa, we didn’t want to scare any of our family while we were all the way on the other side of the world.

But I can tell you now. Because there’s some glory in it for our God.

It was the morning of December 21, 2011. We were so excited (especially me), because we were heading to the Phnom Penh International Airport to meet my friend, Keri, her husband, Scot, and their boys, Garrett and Nathan. We had only ever met online (+ 1 phone chat & 1 skype chat), and now they were flying in from Singapore to spend eight days with our family in Cambodia.

We got to the airport early, and their flight was late, so we were standing up for a long, long time. We were a little restless but having fun people-watching, until Gabe told me he wasn’t feeling well. “Are you sweaty?” he asked me. “No,” I said. The weather was a gorgeous 80 degrees, and we were in the shade with a breeze.

“I’m sweaty.” And he was. Very. His head was sweaty, his feet were sweaty, his whole body was sweaty. And it was a cold, clammy sweat. Exactly the same kind of sweat he’d been sweating on the night of October 29. While he was having a heart attack.

I tried not to panic. I could tell he was worried. He put his hand on his heart (my least favorite thing that he does these days).

“I think it’s my heart.”

And mine sank.

“This is how I felt when I was having a heart attack.”

And then a fog. Scot and Keri got off the plane. We hugged. Gabe hung back. We were going to split up into guys and girls tuk-tuks, so Keri and I could get to know each other on the 30-minute ride back to the guesthouse. But Gabe wouldn’t let me leave him. I don’t blame him. A 30-minute tuk-tuk ride with complete strangers while you’re about to pass out and afraid you’re having a heart attack?

I briefly explained to Keri. She understood. It was a long, long ride. I prayed hard.

We got back, dumped Keri and her family and their luggage and our children, and pulled away in our pastor friend Narin’s van (he owns the guesthouse and was, thankfully, home when we got there). He asked us if we wanted Western care or Khmer. He told us that Western doctors could cost us hundreds, possibly thousands, of dollars but with Khmer care there was no guarantee that anything would be clean or safe or fill-in-the-blank-with-comforting-adjectives. Gabe said Western.

Then Narin said, “Or I have a Khmer friend I could call. He’s a believer, and he’s very good at what he does. Do you want me to go back and get his number?”

We said yes. While he was getting the number, Gabe said. “It’s definitely my heart. And we need to hurry. Like we need to get there NOW.”

All I could do was beg God for mercy. Visions of taking my husband’s corpse back to the States while I comforted our daughters filled my head. Cambodia has no real Western hospitals, no way at all of helping someone who is having a heart attack. We had been told he’d need to be care-flighted to Bangkok if anything happened with his heart. We did have the name of one Christian doctor who we could go to. His name was in an e-mail on Gabe’s laptop back at the guesthouse.

The storyteller in me would love to drag out the drama, but I’m going to cut to the chase. We got to the clinic, there was no wait, they took us back for Gabe to get an EKG on very antiquated equipment (that did the job). It was all so surreal. I just took deep breaths and tried to rest in knowing that God was in control, that he was with us even in Cambodia.

The EKG came back normal. His heart rate was low. The blood sugar test showed that he needed food. We had missed lunch, standing and waiting at the airport. He wasn’t having a heart attack. He just needed to eat.

I wanted to kiss the doctor’s feet. Dr. Modich. The same doctor, as we discovered a few days later, that friends had recommended to us in that e-mail.

I went up to the counter to pay the bill, still shaking from everything that had happened. When the receptionist handed me the bill, I gasped. She looked at me, concerned.

Thirty-six dollars.

THIRTY-SIX DOLLARS.

Seeing the doctor = $30. EKG = $10. Blood sugar test = $1. Missionary discount = -$5.

Thirty-six freaking dollars.

Gabe ate lunch on time the rest of our trip, threw in some regular morning exercise for good measure, and that was that.

God has our backs, friends. On these dreary Ohio winter days when I’m tired of blending milkshakes and making chicken noodle soup for my hurting little girl, and piles of stuff are glaring at me, and I have writer’s block out the ying-yang, and God is whispering, “Wait,” when I ask him for hints about our future, I’m going to remember.

To God be the glory. Great things he has done.

Thank you so much, friends.

We had such a wonderful time at the Boys’ Center Christmas party. What a blessing to hang out with 79 kiddos in the afternoon (plus another quite a few in the morning, including some young adult guys who come to learn English). They loved to sing and play games, and the skits were a huge hit. Here’s Yvonne pretending to try to teach English to some unruly students (played by the talented staff).

Speaking of the awesome staff, here they are under the sweet Punlok Thmey banner my sister made for them. I’m excited to give them pictures of the boys so they can put them up all around the center. I also have some canvases and paint for them, so the boys and staff can make their own artwork for some of the walls. Hooray!

Some of Keri’s friends in Singapore donated a ton of boys’ clothes for the center. That’s something they haven’t done previously–have clothes available for the boys (that I know of anyway). There were some cute, cute clothes. How exciting! Something else they’d like to do when they get the funding is provide lunch for the boys each day. They estimate that it will cost around $75, and I’d love to find a way to help make it happen. Anybody in?? If we all banded together, I bet God could take it and run with it.

We are loving having Scot and Keri and their boys here. It’s fun to actually be able to show people around “our” city. The Jenkinses aren’t your typical family though. They live in Singapore and have traveled around Asia quite a bit. This is their first time to Cambodia though.

They loved our kiddos at the orphanage. We played a fun game where Panha stood on the stair landing and counted to three (muy, pii, bey!) before launching a ton of rubber balls out at them. They linked arms with a partner and had to catch/gather as many balls as they could. After we played it several times, our five kiddos launched a secret attack of the silly string.

Keri fell in love with all the kiddos, but Srey Nut spent a good bit of time snuggled up in her lap. She begged us to stay longer (Keri, that is), but we couldn’t. We’ll be back on Saturday!

Speaking of beautiful Keri, she wrote her first post from Cambodia last night. I haven’t actually read it all (it took too long to load because of the big pics/not-so-fast internet connection), but I can guarantee it’s a good one.

Signing off for now. Let me know if there are any specific photos you’d like to see. Like of me eating a tarantula or something. Because I have one of those.

HAPPY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY, beautiful girl!! Dad and I love you like NUTS!! Let me count the ways!

1. I love your uncanny ability (that you have had for pretty much all of your 11 years) to perk up your radar ears every single time someone is either a.) talking about you or b.) talking about something you think you might be interested in. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been in bed with the fan on for two whole hours. You’ll still know your dad and I are talking about you downstairs in the living room.

2. I love your sense of adventure. You like to do crazy things. Like ride roller coasters. And race boys. And stuff like that.

3. I love your ever-swirling, never-slowing mind. Your brain wheels are constantly churning, and you want to know as many whos/whats/whens/wheres/whys/hows as possible.

4. I love how quickly and easily you make friends (i.e., Hannah from our Zoo Trip). And you’re such a good friend too.

5. I love your sensitive spirit and your heart for others–especially those who are hurting.

6. I love the artistic talent you inherited from your daddy. You’re a wonderful artist.

7. I love how God speaks to you (maybe not audibly, but very clearly in your heart) and you listen. Don’t ever stop listening, baby girl.

8. I love watching you play soccer (another talent you inherited from Daddy-O). You’re not graceful by any stretch, but there’s no mistaking it, you’ve got a gift. And you love the game. Playing, watching, Wii-ing. I can’t wait for you to play in Cambodia.

9. I love your hugs. You’re such a good hugger. You’re so tiny (just a few inches shorter than your mama but only half as thick and wide) that I could probably wrap my arms around you twice, but you fit perfectly up against me and hug me just the right tight.

10. I love how you love your sisters. You might not always get along (oh goodness, you three can fight), but when you’re in the mood for loving, you love each other GOOD. And it warms my heart. I’m so thankful for the bond you three share. And praying we all still love each other when we get back from Cambodia.

11. I love our deep, meaningful conversations and the silly laughs and giggles. I love reading out loud together and trading backscratches. I love our shared passion for loving the poor and oppressed and seeing God’s world. I could go on and on and on. Seriously.

I love you so much, girl. I thank God for you every single day. You are an incredible young woman.

Love, Mom

Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth! Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into his presence with singing! Know that the Lord, he is God! It is he who made us, and we are his, we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture. Enter his gates with thanksgiving, and his courts with praise! Give thanks to him; bless his name! For the Lord is good; his steadfast love endures forever, and his faithfulness to all generations.

Psalm 100

We got to the church really early, so Mom left her Sunday School class to come chat with us. After about 15 minutes, I saw my Grandpa (Mom’s mom) walking up the sidewalk. “Oh! Grandpa came!” I said, at the exact same time Livi was saying, “Is that Grandma??”

“It’s Grandpa,” I said. “What are you talking about?”

“I just saw Grandma Taviano drive by!” she said. “I know it was her! It was her car and her face!”

I turned to Mom. “Did you invite Gabe’s parents?”

She said no, but she looked guilty. They had invited themselves. How fun! It was really cool to have so many of our loved ones together as we shared about our trip. The girls each read a verse about caring for the poor and oppressed, then Gabe talked, then I talked (20 minutes total).

What was really, really cool was to hear how many of the church folks had been praying for Gabe after his heart attack and how thankful they were to God that he was alive and with them this morning. So awesome.

And all of my new (and old) Union Chapel friends, I know I promised you a post with lots of links to helpful information about all that God is doing in Cambodia. Can you give me one more day for that? I’m so tired, and I have to get up before the sun tomorrow to drive two hours to a speaking engagement. THANK YOU.

After church, we all headed to Mom and Dad’s for Dad’s no-sodium meatball/vegetable concoction and salad bar. Then Grandpa entertained us (at my request) with his mad piano-playing skillz.

Let me just brag on my grandpa for a second. He’s 85 years old, and by the time December 31st rolls around, he will have played 240 gigs this year in nursing homes, retirement centers, and what have you. TWO HUNDRED FORTY. In ONE YEAR.

52 zoos in 52 weeks?? Pbbbbbt! What’s that??

And get this. You WILL NOT believe this. He has anywhere from 800-1000 songs in his repertoire. AND HE KNOWS THEM BY HEART. He doesn’t use music. AT ALL.

That is insanity.

So Gabe’s mom requested three different songs that were favorites of her mama’s, and of course he knew them all and played them on the spot. And then he played a couple of his favorites. Then a jazzed-up version of Jingle Bells that Mom requested. And then a Carpenters song, because our parents are old.

And he told us lots of stories of when he was young, like how the ice man used to come and deliver a big block of ice that they’d keep in a wooden box (i.e., icebox) that kept their food cold.

And he told us my favorite story about the 90-year-old woman that flagged him down after a nursing home concert when he was packing up his keyboard and said, “I wish I would’ve asked you to play my songs.” So he asked her what her songs were, and she told him, and he played them, and she said, with tears in her eyes, “You know my songs. Nobody knows my songs.”

Can you imagine?

Then Grandpa, Rock, and Janelle went home, and Gabe and I went for the windiest walk of our lives (Gabe’s up to 28-minute walks now–woot!). Then back to church for the Annual Thanksgiving Dinner. Gabe saved his entire daily sodium allowance for this scrumptious meal (and borrowed a few from tomorrow).

We chatted and laughed and prayed with these sweet, huge-hearted folks, and then we did a little fire brigade line thing where we passed all their Operation Christmas Child boxes from one person to another and loaded them into a pick-up. Oh my word. The church probably has 60 people on any given Sunday, yet they filled what had to have been over 100 boxes. So awesome!

And they took a love offering for our trip and Asia’s Hope (above and beyond their regular offering). Amazing.

We came back to Mom and Dad’s for an hour after the dinner, and Gabe and Dad fell asleep watching Top Gun, while Mom and the girls and I played “No Way!” (i.e., Bull Crap) and Spoons.

Then home, girls in bed, Gabe in bed, my turn next. I’ll be up before I wanna be in the a.m., but at least I get to share some more about Cambodia with some really awesome gals in Bluffton, Ohio.

Have a great week, friends!

We’re home! Gabe is home!

Speaking of Gabe, the general consensus is that he looks amazing, and me? Well, not so much. Awesome. Who had the heart attack anyway?

Tonight has been emotional. And good. I’m holding up well. And also losing my mind a little bit. Lots of tears from the girls. I didn’t mean for them to know about the Cambodia thing, but Livi was on my computer all day reading all the Facebook comments–”I’m praying!” and “Happy Birthday!” And she read my blog post.

We had an amazing conversation in the van on the way to pick up Gabe’s prescriptions. She told me that God tells her things. I’ll share more later with her permission. Powerful, powerful stuff.

I brought Gabe home at around 7pm (Monday). Got him settled, my parents brought the girls back from trick-or-treating, Livi and I ran to get Gabe’s meds (then ran back out later because we forgot the aspirin that he has to take every day for the rest of his life). Had some emotional conversations. Ava rubbed Daddy’s head a bunch, and Livi and Nina took his feet. Gabe’s going to love this.

Finally got them in bed and they conked out immediately. Gabe’s asleep beside me, snoring like usual, and it’s not hard to pretend that everything’s just exactly like it was three days ago.

But then I remember the 6 pills he has to take every day for at least a year. And that one of them cost more than the car payment we were so glad to almost be rid of.

And I remember the circulation socks he has to wear. And that he can’t drive for 2 days. Or have “relations” for 5 (and for those of you who asked–and it was MANY–that is NOT what caused Gabe’s heart attack, you little stinkers). That he has to start his new exercise regimen with 4 minutes of walking per day. FOUR. That he has to cut salt and fat out of his diet. Salt is my love language.

But I’m confident that he’s going to get healthy and in shape and lower his bad cholesterol and raise his good cholesterol and have a stronger heart than ever before.

And God is already doing some jaw-dropping stuff through this. He is just nuts like that.

The doctors still don’t know what caused his heart attack, but they have a great plan in place for making sure (as best they can) that it doesn’t happen again. Speaking of, there was a rainbow in the sky right before Gabe had his heart attack, and tonight when I was gathering our stuff at the hospital and going out to pull our car around for Gabe, there was another one. A double one. It was like God was saying, “Ease your mind, girl. This won’t happen again.”

Please keep praying about Cambodia. I was reading through the Psalms this morning while Gabe was getting his echo done. I just read every verse that I had already underlined. Out loud. One of those verses was Psalm 119:32–”I will run in the way of your commandments when you enlarge my heart!” I didn’t add the exclamation point. It was already there. And guess what I had written in purple ink right beside the verse (and don’t remember writing).

Cambodia.

Believing big for God’s glory to be manifest in ways we can’t even conjure up in our puny little brains.

Speaking of puny little brains, mine is fried. Thanks so much, friends, for everything. We’ll have to reschedule the big birthday blog bash I had planned for today. Going to go sleep away the last 20 minutes of my 36th birthday.

36?!? What in the what?!?

It’ll be low-key, super-easy, just a quick way to get to know each other a tiny bit before we start reading this really cool book of the Bible together. More details tomorrow.

We spent Saturday at Gabe’s parents’ little cabin on the Miami River. It was delightful and relaxing and all kinds of fun. Don’t hate me, but I love my in-laws.

Aren’t cousins fun?

Gabe, Rock, & Tug lugged these bad boys (the rocks) from the neighbors’ to adorn their cabin.

My girlies showing off their guns with Papaw.

Love these two.

And these two.

Three- (and four-) legged fun with sleeves cut from Papaw’s t-shirts.

See you tomorrow for our Getting to Know You Read-Along post!

After preschool, kindergarten, and first grade at a Christian school, then 2nd-4th grades being homeschooled, I started 5th grade at a public school (then moved the following summer and did 6th-12th at a new public school).

(I also graduated from college in three years, spent my last three months of it teaching in Japan, substitute-taught in Ohio half a year, got married, subbed in Indiana half a year, taught in Indiana for a year, taught in Cleveland for a year (minus two months), subbed in Columbus for half a year, had a baby, and moved 10 times in our first 10 years of marriage.)

Does this put my restless spirit into a bit of perspective?

Where was I?

Oh yeah. I remember 5th grade. And now I have a 5th grader. That’s crazy talk. Livi is excited about her first day, and I’m excited for her. I’m not looking forward to watching her walk to the bus stop without her sister though. I’m a big proponent of sisterly togetherness, and I’m already feeling the pang.

She says she wants to be homeschooled next year. I think I like that idea. But, for now, I know that this is where she’s supposed to be. And she’s gonna do great.

Ava. Her online classes don’t start until August 29, but we’re going to jump in tomorrow morning with some school stuff. Our goals? Work on multiplication facts, spelling, and she’s going to read out loud a bunch to Mom.

I’m really looking forward to this year with her. Out of all my girlies, she’s the hardest one for me to figure out. And, ironically, she just might be the most like me. Go figure. Just goes to show that I just don’t get me. And after all these years.

She’s excited to be taking French. A foreign language was optional (it takes the place of Music–glory hallelujah!!), and she could choose from Spanish, German, French, or Latin. I was all about the Spanish, but she wanted something more exotic, so French it is. The cool thing is that Cambodia used to be a French colony, and some of the older folks still speak some French. (The guy I sat by on the plane last year spoke French.) Maybe she’ll get to put it to use.

And Nina. My baby. She starts kindergarten on the 24th. Goodness. She, too, wants to be homeschooled next year. We’ll see. I can’t decide how I feel about her going to school. I don’t feel super-emotional at the moment, and I think it’s for a couple of reasons.

1.) It just seems temporary. Two-and-a-half hours each afternoon (practically preschool) and then she just might be back home with mama next year.

2.) Her co-teachers are absolutely unbelievable. I mean, seriously. Like, I know they’re human and everything, but in my eyes, they can do no wrong. Livi and Ava loved them, and Nina and I volunteered in their rooms last year on Wednesdays. And I feel like I’m just loaning Nina to two dear friends for the afternoon so she can socialize with other little people and be a complete teacher’s pet (did I just say that out loud?).

So, yeah, that’s what’s going down, starting tomorrow. I’ll be honest. There’s a little twinge of regret that I may never, not ever, get that alone time I kind of crave. I was all set to have three hours to myself every afternoon, and my 9-year-old decides she wants to stay home and keep me company.

Sigh.

But I’m so grateful. I love my daughters. I love my husband. And I’m excited to see how this school year unfolds for us as a family. We leave for Cambodia in four little months and have lots to keep us busy until then. God is good.

Counting my blessings tonight. And praying for a good start tomorrow.

Anybody else starting a new season sometime soon?