Michael James Johnson

It was August 23, 2002. I was in the hospital, waiting for my doctor to come in to discuss the procedure. My husband was by my side, but we were both unusually quiet. Let me tell you how we got there.

Shawn and I had been trying to get pregnant for a while. I was diagnosed with PCOS early on, and had several surgeries and took fertility drugs to try and conceive. I took the pregnancy test early, and when I got a positive, we were thrilled! I probably called that very day to get an appointment with my OB/GYN. At 5 weeks along, he wanted an ultrasound. The tech wasn't there that day, so my doctor did it himself. Looking back on it now, I know he was concerned about what he saw, but he told me to come back in a week when the tech would be there, because he said "I don't really know what I'm doing with this machine; she does it better."

Tuesday, August 21st, I took my Mom with me to the ultrasound. The tech found my baby, but there was no heartbeat, and he was abnormally formed. He was gone. I was allowed to cry in that room for as long as I needed. They then took me to my doctor's desk where he lovingly told me my options: I could wait for nature to run it's course, or I could go in for surgery. I opted for surgery. I had to wait two days until Thursday.

Wednesday, in a quiet moment while Shawn and I just held each other, mourning the child we had lost, he asked me, "Can we name the baby, honey?" My answer at that time was a bit snappy. I said, "Why? We don't know if it was a boy or a girl! Why waste a perfectly good name?" That was the end of the discussion.

I had a dream that night. I didn't remember the dream, but when I woke up, I had this knowledge that my baby boy's name was Michael James. I don't know why, I don't know how. I just knew. It was a comfort to me though. I believe God spoke that to me in my dream, as if to say, "Michael is here with me, Tina. He's perfect. You will see him again one day." 

Thursday morning, we arrived at the hospital. My doctor came in the room with me before the surgery to talk. He was wearing a crisp, white linen shirt and pair of pants to match. (This little detail will come into play a bit later.) I kissed my husband and was wheeled in to surgery. Shawn met me in recovery, and our pastor at the time, "Dave" came in as well. Honestly, I don't remember the rest of that day.

Over the next few days, I told people my news; I was sad that I'd lost my baby, of course. But the comfort of that dream was just too much to ignore. The response I kept getting was off-putting, though. It was as if each person was patting me on the head and going,"Awe, that's sweet. There's no way she can know, so I'll just humor her into thinking I believe her." I got this so many times that I began to doubt. I doubted God.

One day, Pastor "Dave" called to check on me. As we talked, I told him about my dream, and that I knew that my baby had been a boy. His response to me was, "Oh, yeah. I knew that. Your doctor told me that."

WHAT???

I got a bit upset at that bit of news, so I quickly ended the conversation, to his chagrin. He knew I was upset, but didn't know why. First, it is entirely illegal for my doctor to divulge medical information like that to anyone, not really even my husband, without my consent. Second, there's no way for my doctor to know at that early a stage (6.5 weeks) the sex of the baby. I confirmed this with my doctor at my post-op appointment.

The next Sunday, "Dave" found me and was very upset. He asked if I'd spoken to my doctor. I answered that yes, I had, but I had some questions for "Dave" first. "When you saw my doctor, was he wearing a surgical mask?" He answered that yes, the doctor was wearing one, but it was not over his face, but draped around his neck. "What was he wearing?" I asked. He answered, "his scrubs." (Remember earlier? My doctor came in to see me before surgery wearing his street clothes, not scrubs. I don't remember seeing him after the procedure.)

Now, what to do with all this weird information that doesn't make sense at all?

"Dave" was staring wide-eyed at me. I should also say that before this conversation, I had been praying and asking God to make things clear to me. I already knew what was going on, but apparently I had to explain it to "Dave".

"All I can tell you, 'Dave', is that God gave you a vision that wasn't meant for you in any way shape or form. I was doubting Him after he clearly told me something to comfort me, and he needed to make it a lot clearer for me, so he used you."

Since then, I have had no doubt whatsoever. I know that my first son, Michael James, is with my Lord. You can have your doubts, but for me, this is fact. I will get to meet him one day, and I will know him immediately. I am so thankful to my Lord for being so patient with me! 

Our 2016

My goodness. It's been almost a year since I've written anything here. I had JUST told you that I would start writing once a week, and then *bam*. Nothing. For a year.

Was I just not talkative? Bwahahahahahaaaaa yeah, um, NO.

Was I lazy? Perhaps.

Was it a very busy, busy year? Most definitely.

Here's a look at our 2016, in words and pictures!

January and February were pretty much just normal. My youngest was still in preschool, so we carted him back and forth every day, doing my other boys' school during that time as well. Nothing much happened.

In March, things picked up! We welcomed a new dog, Roscoe, to our home! He is a 5 year old, blue merle Australian Shepherd. He was meant for my dad, the farmer, but Dad decided that Roscoe is too old to train. So, the sweet dog spends his time during the day with us here at our house, and at night, Dad takes him home and feeds him. He loves us all, and we love him dearly! (Truth be told, I'm his person, really. Everyone else may think they are, but it's me. We all know it!)

Then, my middle son turned 8 years old. We surprised him with flight tickets to a really neat place here called iFly. It's indoor skydiving, and he had a blast!

All ready to go

FLYING!

Of course March wasn't without it's challenges, as Noah sprained his ankle pretty bad, and Aaron wiped out riding his bike.

 May was an emotional month for me. My youngest, Elijah, graduated from pre-school. My third child. I'm not gonna lie, I cried. But so did all the teachers!

June saw my sweet husband grow a year older, and we were very busy preparing for our family vacation in July.

Our family vacation. July 2016. A trip of a lifetime! We flew in to Las Vegas, rented a minivan and drove that thing all over God's beautiful creation. We actually put 2600 miles on the van in 2 weeks. We visited 6 National parks in the Southwest, 4 in the first week alone. We visited Utah, Colorado and New Mexico while we were there, and flew out of Albuquerque two weeks later. I wish I could show you ALL the pictures!

Having a tall, cold root beer after a trip to the Aztec Ruins in NM

Cheesing at the Bar-D Chuck wagon in Colorado

Four Corners monument. The family standing in Utah, Colorado, New Mexico and Arizona all at once!

The boys at the top of a mountain in Colorado. Getting ready to go down an alpine slide.

 Most of August was uneventful, until the very last day. That was the day that Aaron, my little daredevil ended up in the hospital. He had a bicycle accident. Stayed in the hospital for 4 long days under observation for bleeding in his belly. Thankfully he was just fine and has had no recurring problems!

The first hospital sent him by ambulance to the big Children's hospital in the city.

He got to be a pro at pushing his IV pump around!

Because of Aaron's accident and some medical problems I was also having, we didn't get school started as early as I'd have liked, but we got started finally in September.

Our yearly "We started school!" picture

We were supposed to be doing school, but it's always fun to cheese for a "groupie"

I love this picture. Noah is growing into such a fine young man. He spent most of his summer working with his Grandpa, doing whatever Grandpa needed him to do. He turned 12 in October.  We also had a great time setting up a Doctor Who themed car at our church's Trunk or Treat!

November and December were normal 'round these parts, thankfully. After the summer and early fall we had, we needed normal!

Election Day selfie, November 2016

Christmas picture using Pop's drone

Thank you all for reading, and let me know what you think! I'll try to do better this year. Hey, it's only the end of January!

I'm Baaack!

Well, for a minute, anyway.

I've been asked (on Facebook, mostly) to write out some more family stories, so I'll try to do that. Maybe a once a week kind of thing for now?

I want to tell you all about my son's 3 year journey with the cyst/tumor in his mouth. I just have to remind myself of it first, because it's been so long since we have had to deal with it!

I also want to tell you about the amazing things that happen when you sit still and listen to God and His will for you. The saying in our family goes: "If God called you to be a ditch-digger, you'd have to step down to be President." Think about that for a minute. As long as I am doing God's will and His work, I can't be in ANY better place.

There's more to come friends. Thank you for being so patient with me!

Tina

Stories

Recently, I was asked to proofread (or "beta" read, as it is called in the ebooks "world") for one of my favorite authors. It was really neat to be able to read a book before everyone else got their hands on it! I'm excited to do it again, and another author came to me to beta read for her, too. She has a very different voice than the first author, so it's really neat to see and read another person's work. She has since sent me a few short stories from her own personal experiences. Some had me in stitches while others had me in tears; I can SO relate to them!

I asked her to take a look at my blog and give me her opinion (good OR bad!) on it. She gave me a really good idea, and a direction to go in.

Stories.

Stories of my family, from my Dad's generation to now. Listen folks, that's a LOT of stories! I could tell the one about the boys shooting the capons, or the one about the boys killing the flowers, or the one about the boys wanting to try out a home made parachute (I just noticed I have stories about mostly the boys, huh?)

Is that what I'm good at? Telling stories? If so, I get that honestly. My Dad is a wonderful storyteller. Strange how the Lord works sometimes, isn't it? I mean, this man, my Daddy, never graduated from high school. He dropped out in the 11th grade. Why? Because he didn't want to get up in front of the class to give an oral book report. Now? He preaches. Oh, he's not an ordained minister, but if you come to the farm and can catch him when he's not running around like a chicken with his head cut off trying to get the beans in or the corn cut, he will talk to you. And he will talk to you. And if he thinks you need it, he will preach to you. He teaches Sunday School class at church, and once a month goes to one of the nursing homes in the area and preaches there for the residents. This man, who was too shy to give a book report. He'll tell you (and I will too) that is ALL from God.

So, I'll start telling stories. Not just on my own children, but try to get family stories written down.

Are you ready for this, Lehman family?

The Car Accident That Blessed Our Socks Off...Part II

Spending the night in the hospital after a car accident that resulted in a concussion is no fun, especially if you're pregnant. The whole time I was in the ER, the nurse checked the baby's heartbeat numerous times. She even put a little heart shaped sticker on my tummy where she found him so she could always go back to that spot. For the most part, he cooperated and was still enough for her to hear him. When the got me in a room, however, he had had enough! The nurse in the L&D unit got so frustrated with the little stinker at one point that she just gave up. He was obviously moving around a lot, because every time she would catch him he would scoot away! So I got hardly any sleep there, between waking me up every few minutes because of the concussion and trying to hear the baby, I was exhausted when we finally got home!

Let me rewind a little bit here. After the men pulled us out of the car, other people rushed to "duty". Our car landed on it's top in the road, right in between the two driveways of the church. People started to direct traffic through the parking lot so the ambulances could actually get to us and the traffic could keep going. Of the many people that helped us that day, three beautiful souls come to my mind. I don't know their names, perhaps I never will. One of the men introduced himself as a nurse (we found out later that he was actually a Corpsman in the Navy), and another young man introduced himself as an EMT. The other was a beautiful blond lady that was pouring water on my hand while she shook like a leaf. She was trying to wash my hand the best she could without hurting me.

Let me just insert here, how wonderful our God is! These people were put there specifically for my husband and me, that day, at that time; no question in my mind! Not just one medical professional, but two! What's even more miraculous was what we were told by the EMT. He was a young man; usually went to church with his Dad somewhere else, but that day, he just felt that he was supposed to come to church with his Mom. Praise God that he was there! 

Ok, back to the story. After I took a long nap, I called Bethel Baptist church to thank them for all their help, and to let them know we were banged up, but ok. The woman that answered the phone sounded very excited to hear from me; she had apparently been getting phone calls all day long asking about us. She was so happy to know that we were ok, and that she could tell people that very thing now. She then asked if there was anything they could do for us. I jokingly said, "well, if you know of anyone selling one, we're in the market for a new-to-us car!"Basically, we had just totaled our car.

Tuesday afternoon, the phone rang. We didn't recognize the number, so we let the answering machine pick it up (wow-this was even before voice mail!) We heard someone saying something about the accident, so Shawn quickly went and answered it. After a few minutes, he got that nervous laugh that I know so well. He kept saying "thank you!" and I could hear the excitement in his voice. When he hung up the phone, he rushed into the living room, put his head in my lap and said, "they want to give us a car!" Wait. What? Surely he didn't say that right. Give us a car?

Apparently there was a young couple a little older than us that had just had a second child. They had already bought a bigger vehicle, but had planned on selling their car. Instead, they decided to gift it to us! I really didn't believe it; not at all.

Shawn did all the arranging; I had to make a surprise trip back to the ER that week for a severe headache. The next Sunday, exactly a week after we wrecked, these angels brought a 1996 Mercury Sable to my parent's house. (We lived in Virginia Beach at the time in a, how shall we say it, rough neighborhood. No place to park a car with no tags!) I think I was still a little in shock, to tell you the truth. Why would someone do this for total strangers? But there  it was, free. Ours.

Not only did they give us the car, but they knew it needed new tires to pass inspection by the end of that month. So they put $200 cash in an envelope in the glove compartment so we could buy new tires. The car that was wrecked was a 1995 Ford Taurus. If you know anything about cars, then you'll know that a Ford Taurus and a Mercury Sable are practically the same car. We had just put new tires on the Taurus, and they weren't damaged (remember, we landed upside down?). So we were able to harvest the tires from the Taurus and put them on the Sable. Funny thing, though; it was almost exactly $200 to get the car title changed over and registered to us, because it was a gift.

No. Not a funny thing at all. God's hand was at work. 

The Car Accident that Blessed our Socks Off

Looking through my blog last night, I realized that I haven't written out my pregnancy stories! Now, I know what you're thinking; "Pregnancy story? She's gonna get bloody and gory, isn't she?" Nope! Well, there is a teeny bit of blood, but not in the way you think. This story starts 6 months before the baby was even born!

Let me set the stage for you:

It was May 16, 2004. (I am freaky with dates like this; don't know why, just always have been.) Shawn and I were young (he was 29, I was 28), youth leaders at the church we attended, and had already gone through a miscarriage the year before in August. I was 16 weeks pregnant, and it was a beautiful, sunny Sunday morning. The day before, we had been with our youth group all day; we picked strawberries, cleaned them and made strawberry syrup out of them. We canned them with the purpose of selling the jars for a fundraiser. Shawn and I were going to church early that Sunday morning: him to teach Sunday school, and me to finish preparing the jars for our customers. (I was going to put pretty ribbons and fabric on the tops, you know? Make them cute.) I had all the orders in a metal cash box in the backseat of the car.

What we had forgotten was this: The bridge was closed that weekend. We lived in Virginia Beach at the time, and traveled over that bridge every time we went to church, or to my parents house, or anything. We had just been at church the day before, and we had remembered that the bridge was closed, so we went the other way, over the other bridge. But Sunday, we remembered too late to go the easy way. By the time we remembered, we had to go down Elbow Road.

For those of you that don't know this area well, Elbow Road is what one might call a death trap. It's a long, winding, narrow road with no shoulder to be seen on either side. Many people have lost their lives in crashes on this road. Shawn had never driven down this road before, nor was he very familiar with the car he was driving, because it was the car I usually drove. So when we went around one corner and he caught the gravel on the non-existent shoulder, that was it. The car fell down into the ditch, we hit a culvert head on, and then the car flipped back up into the road, upside down. We spun around like a top for a minute before coming to a stop, facing the same direction we were traveling, just upside down. We never crossed the center line, and we landed right in between two driveways of the church across the street.

When we stopped moving, I could hear my husband crying out, "I'm so sorry...I'm so sorry..." over and over. I think he was in shock. For some reason, I was very calm, almost peaceful (I later realized that I had been hit in the head, most likely the console piece where the air bag comes out, but we'll never know for sure) and I remember hearing what I believe to be God speaking to my heart saying "The baby is OK. Get out of the car. Now." You don't need to tell me that twice! The problem was that I was hanging upside down in my seat belt. My right hand had been badly injured (though I didn't really realize it at this time) and I couldn't use it to push myself back into the seat so I could unhook the belt. Shawn was trying to get out, too. His driver's side door was jammed, so he put his seat back to get out the back door. I needed him to help me get out of the seat belt, and by the time he'd done that (and we were both on our hands and knees in glass shards and whatever else <shiver>) men from the church across the street had come and pried his door open and were pulling us out.

 At this point, I lost sight of my husband. I knew he was OK; I had seen him walking around. People flocked around me. They walked me a safe distance away from the car and sat me down in a grassy spot. I couldn't figure out why everyone was fussing over me so much. I was pleading with someone to call my parents. They were at church where we were headed by this time. I was hollering out the number to the church (I still have it memorized; I told you, I'm weird that way!) begging for my parents to come. All this time, I remember a beautiful lady with white blonde hair kneeling beside me, using a water bottle to try to wash off my badly mangled hand. She was shaking so badly that I wanted to hold her had to calm her down! When we had started to crash, I had reached out the window to hold onto the roof of the car. My right hand had been crushed between the roof of the car and the asphalt. It was not a pretty thing to look at. One of the men told me that I also had a "pretty big goose egg" forming on my forehead. 

By the time the ambulances arrived, my parents had gotten there. They were putting me in the ambulance when I heard my Mom's voice, telling me that Shawn was in the other ambulance and that he was going to Chesapeake General. I asked them to take me there, too, but Chesapeake refused me. I was hurt worse (not to mention PREGNANT!) and had to go to the big hospital in the city, Norfolk General, and their trauma center. My Mom rode in the ambulance with me while Dad stayed at the site and bossed everyone around  got the car towed back to the farm. Then he joined us up at Norfolk General. My sister-in-law went to Chesapeake and stayed with Shawn; he was released quickly with some minor scratches on his face and arm. She brought him straight to me when they were done.

When we got to the hospital, I was hollering out that I was pregnant, because the EMT hadn't told them that over the radio as we were headed in. The doctors and nurses immediately began working; cutting my clothes off, ultrasounds, x-rays, sent me for a CT of my head, the works. I insisted that they check the baby first. When they did the ultrasound, there he was, be-bopping all over as if to say "Mommy, that was fun! Let's do it again!". It was obvious that he was fine.

They did an x-ray of my right hand right there in the trauma bay. The doctor saw it and I know he immediately thought "surgery practice!" because of how bad it looked. When the first x-rays came back and revealed there was NO damage to the bones, he made them do it again. He didn't believe that my fingers weren't at least dislocated or something! But nope, just badly skinned. Each finger on the side, from the bottom knuckles to the tips of each finger. The doctor called it my "hamburger hand"". I had complained about my backside hurting, and the thumb on my left had was turning all shades of purple and black and hurt like the dickens, but he didn't seem concerned about those. I did find out a couple of weeks later that my thumb WAS broken. Quite a few years later I found out that my tailbone had been broken, as well. Since I was pregnant, they didn't want to expose the baby to more x-rays than were needed, and there's nothing you can do for a broken coccyx anyway! 

They kept me overnight for observation in the Labor & Delivery unit so they could monitor the baby and my head injury, and then released me the next day, Monday. Shawn and I went home and rested for a while (because let's face it, you get no rest in a hospital!) and then I placed a call to the church where we crashed, Bethel Baptist church. I wanted to thank them for all that they did and let them know that we were ok. What happened next is the next part of this story. It was one of the biggest blessings in our lives.

Come back tomorrow and I'll finish the story!

Birthday Party, Sickness and What We Did about It

This past weekend, we had my second son's 7th birthday party. We had to do it early for logistical reasons; his birthday isn't until next week! Of course, he had a great time.

It was a beautiful day; a little cool, but not terribly chilly. One of the guests actually decided to shed his shoes and socks and run around outside barefoot! Two days later, however, it was chilly again. It's really been back and forth, up and down in temperatures around here the last few weeks.

Some of you know me well enough to know that I'm a big essential oil user. Some of you may not have known that, but now you do! I've been using EO's for a little over a year now. I had gone to about 4 or 5 classes with my friend, and was still quite dubious about the whole thing, until I had a breakthrough. I'll spare you the gory details, but the digestive blend oil from doTERRA literally changed my life. I was hooked, and I've seen so much in our lifestyle change ever since then.

We've had a little bug here in our home the last few days. It started as a little sniffling from all three boys. As soon as I noticed that, I began diffusing these three oils: Protective Blend, Wild Orange and Respiratory Blend. I love the scent of all of these combined!

Monday morning, the symptoms were:

4 year old: ear infection (which we did go to the doctor for, I'm not totally against antibiotics when they are called for!) and runny nose.
6 (almost 7) year old: sneezing,... stuffy/runny nose, normal seasonal junk.
10 year old: Sore throat, lethargy, coughing, stuffy/runny nose (he was the worst of the boys)
Me: Exhausted, sore throat off and on fever (for no apparent reason)
Dad: Never did tell me, but he was definitely off his game.

So, with the diffuser running, applying the Protective Blend and Oregano to our feet and taking some Protective Blend capsules (only Dad, me and the 10 year old, the worst of us) we went about the days. Oh, school was non-existent Monday, except for the 4 year old going to preschool. Tuesday, we were back in the swing of things, but still a little slow. Today, is a different story. Today (Wednesday) we're feeling better! I actually got the bed made, laundry done, and school done. I'm tired this evening, but it's the accomplished tired. There is still some sniffling going on, but you can tell the boys are perking up.

Do you want to know more about doTERRA essential oils? Please leave a comment, or you can check my website at www.mydoterra.com/blessedmamaof3. I'll be talking more on my blog about doTERRA and all the wonderful products they offer!