I faced the prospect of my own death this month. Every woman in my family has thyroid problems and my sister fought a long battle with thyroid cancer, so my whole life they've all been harping, "You'd better watch it, Ted! (That's my childhood nickname.) Have it tested every year, no exceptions!"

A few years ago, the doctors found a lump of little consequence on one side of my thyroid. They told me to go on with my life, to just "Watch it." This year, they found lumps, plural. I had one on each side of my thyroid and one of them had enough "substance" to cause some alarm.

A good friend of mine here suggested I see a doctor from our church who just happens to be the best thyroid doctor in the country. You all know what I think of coincidences like this... They aren't coincidences at all. "Our steps are ordered by the Lord, how else can a man understand his way?" Dwayne and I both agreed one of the reasons we felt compelled to settle here in Connecticut may have been because God knew in advance I would need to see this doctor.

The doctor saw me a few days ago and assured me that the lump wasn't large enough to be threatening, just yet, and that I could continue to live as usual, but watching my thyroid closer than ever.

There were only a few days between the threatening test results and the expert doctor's reassuring words, but that was long enough to force me to face the prospect of dying sooner than I expected, leaving my husband alone with our little girl.

The first thing I had to know was "Why?" If things did get ugly, why would God allow me to get sick? I found a passage of Scripture that answered that question for me right away. Jesus and his disciples passed a man they knew had been blind from birth. The disciples asked Jesus, "Who sinned and caused this man to be born blind, him or his parents?" Jesus answered, "Neither. This happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life." It was as if God himself reassured me with those words. "You have not done anything wrong and even with two daughters sick like this, neither have your parents. I intend to work through this and use this to bring glory to myself." Though Jesus went on to heal the man born blind, I didn't take the passage as a promise for healing, but at least, I knew getting sick wasn't punishment from above and that God could use it for a greater purpose.

But, even if God used it and even if He wasn't punishing me, I may not be healed... So, the next thing I faced was actually dying. For the first time in the situation, I didn't think about anyone but myself. Dying is very personal, I think. It's done, ultimately, alone. And so, it is quite lonely. Even further, faith is deeply personal and it is only genuine if it is, truly, your very own. For a moment, I didn't think about the church we attend, what my husband believes, or what I've been told by other Christians... Was I sure I wanted to continue to trust Christ until I died, as I was actually dying? By coincidence, as it always happens, I came upon a verse that strengthened my faith and spoke the words that were still there in my heart, my testimony, since I first became a Christian. "Though you have not seen Him, you love Him. Though you do not see Him, you believe in Him and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory, obtaining the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls."

I thought of another passage then. Once, right after several people stopped following Jesus, he turned to his disciples and asked them, "Will you go to?" Peter answered for them when he said, "Where else will we go? You alone have the words of truth and life. We believed and have come to know that you are the Holy One of God." Just like this, something in Jesus' words held me there until I came to have complete confidence in the Bible. I still trust Christ and even given the opportunity to leave, I stay. He alone is still the only source of eternal life I've found. What are my alternatives, really? Do I even have alternatives? Do you? At least from a Biblical perspective, Jesus is IT. "There is salvation in no one else. For there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved."

I had faith enough in Christ to die with His name on my lips, but I wasn't dead yet, so, next, I had to know how to live in the meantime! What do I do with my life? Could I pray to be healed?

I was reading a children's story book to Norah and came across a story about a shadow moving backwards up a set of stairs. The story stuck out to me, since it wasn't familiar, like the parting of the Red Sea or the battle of Jericho, so I decided to look it up at it's source in the Old Testament. It happened, as it always does, that the passage answered my question about how to live and pray "in the meantime."

King Hezekiah was sick and the prophet Isaiah brought him bad news... He would not recover and he needed to get his house in order before he died. Hezekiah "turned his head to the wall and prayed" and then "wept bitterly." After that, Isaiah had to go back to Hezekiah with another message entirely. God had seen Hezekiah's tears and decided to let him live. (The shadow on the stairs was a miracle God allowed to prove His latest message was the truth.) After this, the Bible says Hezekiah wrote about his ordeal, which, I just realized, is what I am doing, too! In that passage I found two of the best reasons to ask God to let me live.

Hezekiah told God, "Death does not praise you, those who die do not hope for your faithfulness. The living, the living, thank you, as I do this day. The father makes known to his children your faithfulness."

I wanted to stay alive to keep praising God, to keep hoping for his faithfulness day to day. Of course, people sing praises in Heaven and witness His faithfulness... but, it may actually mean more to God when we sing here. Because, from where we are, praise and hope require faith and "Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen" and further, "Without faith, it is impossible to please Him." So, how much more does it appeal to God the Father to give us extra time to praise him from Earth? It think that motivates God like nothing else! I know I'd rearrange my plans if Norah asked for more time to tell me how much she loves me! ;)

And, like Hezekiah said just a little later in the passage, I want to be alive so I can be a parent who "makes known to my children God's faithfulness." I want to live to tell Norah about the God I have put my faith in and how He has been faithful to me and to generations of people who came before. What other reasons do we live, except to give praise to God and to tell the people we love all about Him?!

This photo was taken that day at Dutch Wonderland.
I let Norah decorate a cookie and eat as much of it as she wanted.

My daughter has a DVD called "Gigi: God's Little Princess." Her grandmom gave it to her for her birthday. I find it irritating, cause I think Gigi acts like a spoiled brat, but Norah loves it, and sometimes I doubt myself and I think my standards are too high, so I've let Norah watch the show again and again.

The story goes: Gigi wants a castle for her birthday, the same castle all her other friends have. But, Gigi's dad is thoughtful and handy, so he builds his 'little princess' a custom castle just for her. Gigi's disappointed with her castle at first, because there is no chocolate milk moat like she wanted, just a moat full of water, and there isn't a single pink flower like the castles her friends have, just a row of simple fir trees.

She insists that the castle be changed to look just like the one she had in mind to begin with. But, when it is changed, she almost gets stung by all the bumble bees attracted to the sugar in her chocolate milk moat and she can't spend any length of time outside cause she sneezes over all the pollen in the pink flowers. Turns out that her father knew what would be best for her all along and designed her castle accordingly.

Though the story is supposed to teach a lesson about how God treats us, I wasn't fully convinced this was, in fact, the way God actually works with His people, until certain things happened on our trip to PA.

Norah and I have been tagging along with Dwayne for two weeks. He's had to be in Lancaster for business, so to be together, I moved our home on the road. During the day, Norah and I have been keeping busy around town and I have seen God's loving attention in two particular things that happened here.

One day, I took Norah to Dutch Wonderland, a "Kingdom for Kids" and we rode tons of rides together, ran around the water park there and played games at the booths (games that I had to pay extra for, like at the fair... Grrrrr). But, I saw a sign that said "everyone's a winner" and all Norah has to do is choose a duck from the river. She picks a floating duck and hers turns out to have an 's' inside. S, as luck would have it, stands for "small prize" and she walked back to me with a tiny stuffed frog. Tiny. I felt cheated. I have a moment's glance of understanding with the 'greasy man in the booth' (really, it was a lovely looking teenage girl). But, I was upset and disappointed. I never would have paid two bucks for a tiny, tacky frog with over sized eyes, a smug little smile on his face and badly sewn seams.

Norah didn't seem to mind, though, so I tried hard to keep my disappointment to myself. But, I am thinking deep down, "We're children of God, we have spiritual "Gonnections," a Godfather, so to speak, and I know there is a Proverb somewhere that says every roll of the dice is determined by the Lord.. so why didn't Norah walk away with that man-sized teddy bear?' (Shocking, I know, but I am being honest about what I was thinking at the time).

Later that day, though, Norah and I were beat from playing so hard and she needed some down time. I didn't want to leave the park and go back to the hotel for her nap because I figured that would mean we wouldn't come back in the evening and I wanted to get our money's worth from the day. So, I found a shady spot in the grass and snuggled with her while she rested a little. She couldn't really sleep, but she was still too tired to play again full-force, so we proceeded to have an impromptu game of hide and seek with what we had on hand... our little stuffed "Froggy, Froggy."

She ran about fifteen feet away, turned around, covered her eyes and counted to ten, while I hid the frog under her beach towel, in the stroller's basket, in my shirt (that was the most fun, since Norah couldn't find the frog, even after all the hints of me sticking out my chest). We had as much fun with that little frog as we had at the entire theme park! We both genuinely laughed throughout the game and I really enjoyed finding new places to hide him before she turned around. And, I realized somewhere in the middle of it all, I got this feeling that had the frog been any bigger, I wouldn't have been able to fit him under a beach towel (or in my shirt) and we wouldn't have had that game of hide and seek at all.

Then, later in the trip, we had to change hotel rooms and got "stuck," so I thought, in a room with a handicapped bathroom. There would be no tub for Norah's baths, just a huge newly-tiled bathroom, with a shower head on the far wall and a floor that dips down ever-so-slightly to keep the water from draining over to the sink and toilet and then out into the room.

Norah and I went to the pool one day, but the wind made it too cold to stay and play as long as she wanted. We came back to the new room to clean up, but I wasn't going to be able to give her a separate bath like I normally do and I was dreading it. But, as soon as I turned on the water, her eyes got big like she had some great idea. "Mommy, I can pretend I am at the water park!" and she proceeded to play under the "waterfall" while we both cleaned off.

I finished my shower and realized there was no reason that she couldn't keep playing in the water, so I let her play there for at least thirty minutes using the plastic cups that came with our hotel room's ice bucket, splashing, emptying and pouring. Norah was in heaven and I realized again, from a subtle nudge of God's Holy Spirit in my heart, that had I had my way and gotten the room with the bathtub that I wanted to insist upon, she and I both would have missed all the fun of that huge shower.

So, I am convinced that God does take effort to bless His children with things that will bring us joy. And, I think we honor Him by delighting in our lives and acknowledging His careful, loving hands in the choices He makes for us.

Jesus teaches about God the Father with these words recorded in Matthew 7:9-11, 'Which one of you, if your son asks for bread, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a serpent? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask him?"

My husband didn't tell me about him before we married.

I guess he assumed he didn't need to, that I'd like him as much as he did, since we had so many other things in common... But, Dwayne really should have had more foresight because his brightly colored, four foot tall, life sized, to scale, blow up, Emperor penguin has been a source of contention since the first apartment we shared as newlyweds.

As we were moving in, Dwayne eagerly pulled the over sized toy out of a box of his treasures, blew him up and tried to set him in the corner of our living room. I still remember the look of horror on his face when Dwayne saw the look of horror on my face and realized I really wasn't kidding, I didn't like the bird and it couldn't sit out in the open.

We've compromised again and again and the penguin has followed us from one dwelling to another, living in our spare bedrooms, closets and even staying in my elementary classroom for a time. My students loved him. And, when the penguin was unpacked at this house, I already had the perfect spot for him. The bird occupied a basement corner near our oil tank and served to keep our daughter Norah entertained while I loaded and unloaded the washer and dryer. I would have taken a knife to him long ago, but I am a submissive wife, of sorts, and all I can do in good conscience is ask Dwayne, every so often, if I can find a new home for "Napolean."

That's the name we came up with sometime ago: Napolean. It fits, since he's an Emperor and he is also short. History records that the great emperor was a littler man. I asked Dwayne one more time if the bird could "go away" when I was organizing our most recent tag sale (a.k.a.yard sale down south) and he gave me the same "No" I always get, so I dropped it. But, I put Napolean out in the yard for the sale anyway. The picture above was taken that day. I didn't put him out so he'd be sold, honestly, but so he could get some fresh air and function as a conversation piece for our neighbors. So, I was completely surprised when my husband yelled, "Hun! Come say goodbye to Napolean!"

Two college aged boys had pulled up to the sale to look over all the junk and once they saw Napolean, they said, "He's so cool! How much is he?" Dwayne smarted off something like, "Oh, he's not for sale. He's family. Holds a special place in my heart. ...But, I think a twenty dollar bill would fill that special place just as well." He never expected them to pay that much, but one of the boys pulled out a twenty dollar bill without hesitation. And so, Naploean was sold!

I ran to say my goodbyes and made the new owner promise to keep him at least five years into his own marriage, and then, only hand him over to another worthy young man who would promise to use the penguin to challenge the integrity, strength of purpose, character, will, self-control and discipline of his wife, in much the same manner the bird had always tested mine.

Napolean went away in the backseat of a macked-out PT Cruiser with the windows down and the music blaring. The guys who bought him waved and yelled, "We'll take good care of him!" as they pulled away. I swear there was smile on the bird's face. I hope Napolean shows up in those boys' cherished photos of their youthful days. He deserves it. By the way, that twenty dollars didn't go into the tag sale's money box. Dwayne kept it for himself. I suppose he earned it.

(I wrote this several years ago and it was published on another one of my blogs previously.)