The End of a 15 Year Era....

2 weeks ago, our church campus (Mariners Ocean Hills) hired a new worship pastor.  He is awesome and a great addition to the Mariners staff.  When he asked if I would lead worship alongside him on his first Sunday, I agreed without hesitation.  I haven't done that at Mariners since Jon's surgery almost 16 months ago.  It was time.  I was so looking forward to it!

So I was shocked when I arrived for sound check, walked on stage, and got a huge lump in my throat.  I started to put my ears in (in-ear monitors, for you non-musical peeps) and had to do one of those "blink really fast so tears don't fall out of your eyeballs" type things.  This crazy flood of emotion came over me that I was not expecting.  You see, Jon usually attaches my in-ear battery pack to the back of my bra strap for me.  We have this "moment" every Sunday where he hooks me up.  ;)  Where was he?  I can't get my pack where I want it!  Wait, am I really crying about my battery pack?  What in the world is going on?!? 

Rewind....

Several months ago, Jon came with me to Hume Lake for a women's conference. I was leading worship and Jon played guitar in the band and sang with me.  This was his first time really playing and singing with a full band since his surgery.  After the Friday night session, we walked off stage and Jon looked at me and sadly said, "I can't do that anymore.  It's all just noise."
Being deaf in one ear has made things very tough for Jon.  Social situations are awkward because he misses about 1/3 of the words in conversations.  Being in loud restaurants are the worst.  He can't hear anything.  When he walks into a room of people and someone yells something out, he has to scan the room to figure out who said it.  He can't tell which direction sound comes from.  However, sleeping has become a new favorite pastime.   He has "trained himself" to put his good ear down into his pillow and he then hears nothing.  He's never had such good sleep in his life!  ;)  

Anyway, a few weekends after that experience at Hume, Jon stood in front of our church and told them that he would not be returning to his position as Worship Pastor.  He just can't physically do it.  He can sing with tracks.  (like when we perform The Prayer)  And he can lead worship with just his guitar.  He can hear fairly well in both of those settings.  But leading worship with a full band (drums, click, vocals, etc..) is just too hard to do on a regular basis.  He can probably get through doing it here and there, but as a full time job?  No.  

So Jon has been working part time (he's still on part time disability) as the pastor of Outreach.  He is loving experiencing a different area of ministry and leading our church in serving our community.  Mariners has been so gracious, so patient, so supportive.  It's been a season of transition and Jon and I have had absolute peace about it.  Well, Jon has.  I thought I did.  Until last Sunday when I almost sobbed over my battery pack.   What was that about??  

For 15 years, Jon and I have led worship side by side.  15 years.  I know when he is going to repeat a chorus or cut out a bridge.  I know when he doesn't know the words and needs me to jump in.  ;)  I lay in bed next to him on Sunday mornings as he sets his alarm extra early and prays over the service for an hour.  I lead worship differently because of what I have learned from him and how he leads.   One of my favorite things to do in life is lead worship alongside Jon.  And as much as I've had peace about what God is doing in and through Jon's life, I hadn't yet grieved the end of an amazing 15 year season of life with my husband.  It is a loss. A big loss.  And even though I had known for awhile that it was coming, the first time walking on the stage to lead worship with Jon's replacement was emotional.  It just made it official.  

Want to know what's amazing?  Jon was totally fine.  Ha!  It wasn't an emotional day for him at all.  He has been processing all of this for months.  Me?  I'm a visual, experiential type person.  I only understand things in theory to an extent.  But once I can see/touch/feel/experience, I can really get it.
Last Sunday, I really got it.  Life is different.  It is good.  But it is different.  And sometimes different means celebrating.  And sometimes different means grieving.  I've done both of those things over the past 16 months.  And I'm doing both of those things in this situation . I grieve what Jon has lost.  What we have lost.  But I celebrate the amazing new things God is doing in Jon's life.  In our lives.  And I celebrate HUGELY that God has brought such an amazing new person to lead our Mariners OH campus into worship.  And I celebrate HUGELY that he invited me to worship alongside him.  What a gift.   

God continues to heal.  Physically.  Emotionally.  He takes away.  And He gives gifts.  He refines.  And blesses.  And sometimes, just sometimes, He uses tears over a battery pack to push us toward greater healing, greater surrender, greater trust.  Two Sundays ago?  Fast blinks.  This past Sunday?  Slow blinks, no lump in my throat.  And from the stage, I had the most beautiful view of a hot, bearded, 30-something year old red head in the 5th row with his arms raised high, worshiping Jesus.  

Cue fast blinks.  ;)  

MRI Results!!!

Friends, THANK YOU for praying....  

Today's appointment with the neurosurgeon revealed that Jon's brain tumor shows NO NEW GROWTH!!!   Praise God!!!!   

The tumor is a little under 1cm, which is still a safe size to not have to operate on or do radiation at this point.  We are THRILLED.  (you can see below... the tumor is on the left side, middle of the screen - the white part.)  

The Doctor then spent time with us, working on a plan for Jon's pain management.  Jon continues to be in extreme eye pain at times and we still haven't found a way to lessen that.  (Well, the neurosurgeon did say that he has had several patients say the ONLY thing that has helped with facial pain is medical marijuana.  But we won't discuss that here.)  ;)

Anyway, THANK YOU for praying.  THANK YOU for pleading.  

God is GOOD.  

MRI Day...

"When my heart is overwhelmed and I cannot hear Your voice
I'll hold on to what is true, though I cannot see.
When the storms of life, they come, and the road ahead gets steep
I will lift these hands in faith.
I will believe.
I remind myself of all that You've done
And the life I have because of Your son."

If you have our new worship CD, you know this is how the CD starts.  There's no musical introduction.  It's just these words.  Sung by Jon.  The words pierce my soul every single time.

This morning I sing them with a lump in my throat.
Tonight at 7:30pm, Jon has his MRI.
We've waited 6 months for this MRI, although we haven't thought much about the MRI in the past 6 months while waiting.  We try to just "live in the now" and let tomorrow's worries stay there. Tomorrow.  But when tomorrow becomes today, it takes my breath away.

This tumor has grown in the past.  This tumor has also not grown in the past.  It is not predictable nor does it "act as it should," as our surgeon has previously told us.  (However previously operated-on brain tumor's are supposed to act..??)

And so we enter the next 5 days of 'MRI test until MRI results' with the same posture we've tried to take during this whole journey:  Prayerfully open handed.  God, you are sovereign.  God, we trust you.  God, you are faithful.  God, you are good.  God, we ask for healing.  God, we ask for healing.  God, we plead for healing.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

Would you join us in that?  Would you worship God with us?  He is SO worthy.  And would you plead for healing with us?  He is SO able.

We will keep you posted on Monday, as we meet with Jon's neurosurgeon at 3pm for the results.

Love you and thank you for journeying with us.  Still.

Jon (and I) Recorded a New Worship CD!!!!

Several months ago, we found out Jon's brain tumor was growing again.  While we were getting 2nd and 3rd opinions on treatment options and radiation, another MRI a few months later revealed it had stopped growing.  The doctor was baffled by this.  Tumors don't just stop growing!  We told him SO many people were praying.  He said, "Well, there's that, I guess.  I mean, we'll probably never know."  :)

Well in the midst of all of that, I began having conversations with a few talented friends of ours.  And we decided to surprise Jon with a way to raise funds to help with his medical expenses, as well as document his spiritual journey over this past year through worship.  We sat Jon down and told him there was a group of talented friends who were going to volunteer their time and talent to help Jon (and I) record a worship CD.  Jon's only responsibility would be to pick the songs and show up to sing.  So over the past few months, we have been in the process of making this CD.

I have to tell you, it was INCREDIBLE to watch Jon create the worship experience for this CD.  I call it a "worship experience" because that was his #1 desire.  That you would be able to throw this CD in, and find hope and healing.  Jon wanted to record the CD exactly how he worships when he's alone and it's just him and God.  Songs are melded together, there is space to sit and listen...  There are 17 different songs or parts of songs on the CD - but only 7 actual different tracks.   Because it's not about a bunch of individual songs.  It's about going on a worship journey.

Jon also was adamant about having a choir on the CD - a group of voices singing with us at certain places throughout the project.  One of the biggest blessings and most beautiful parts of our journey this past year was the community that surrounded us.  Jon wanted to make sure "Community" was represented on the CD.  The best musical expression of that, that he could imagine, was a choir.  And man, every time I listen to the CD and I hear that group come in, I get tears in my eyes.  It represents The Body that so extravagantly loved on us and pleaded with God on our behalf.  Wow.

Well all that to say..... THE CD IS DONE!!!!  "Let Faith Arise" is the title of the new worship CD - a CD filled with songs of hope and healing - the prayers we sang as we grieved and celebrated, grieved and celebrated, over this past year.  (10,000 Reasons, Love Came Down, Oceans, Give Me Jesus, Never Let Go, etc.. to name a few)

One of my favorite parts of the CD are the moments you can hear the raw emotion in Jon's voice, as he fought back tears while recording/worshiping.  It. Is. Beautiful.  And to know that he recorded it - deaf in one ear and struggling to pronounce words properly while fighting the paralysis on the right side of his face...  I'm telling you.  It. Is. Beautiful.

There is a link on the Right side of this blog that will let you purchase this new CD.  (it's under our pic, under my email address, and links to PayPal)  We are selling the CD for $10 and if you need it shipped, it's $13.50 - to cover shipping and packaging.  The link will allow you to pay via PayPal.  If you don't have a PayPal account, you can still make a payment through the link or you can just email ramsaycds@gmail.com and we'll get you the info on sending a check via snail mail.  :)  Also, if you are ordering 3 or more CDs, send us an email and we'll let you know the accurate shipping amount, since PayPal does't give you that option.  (we're working on fixing that)

Thank you SO much for journeying with us this past year.  Jon's next MRI is in about 3 weeks, so we will keep you posted on those results.  Praying and trusting God for continued healing and NO tumor growth....

Love you all.....
Deanna

My Confession...

2 weeks ago, Jon walked in the door from work and he greeted me in the kitchen with a kiss. I looked at him and said, "Babe, can we sit down and talk?"  I'm sure he thought, "Oh crap."  But he lovingly grabbed my hand and we headed to the living room couch, which we only use for "those talks."  We sat down, Jon held my hand, I looked into his eyes and said, "I think I'm tired." Jon knew exactly what I was saying and he nodded.  "I feel like I'm losing steam,"  I said next.  And he nodded again.   I continued, "I feel like my plane is wanting to land - but it's not landing in a beautiful, warm, tropical island. :)  I feel like it wants to land in a big, dark pit.  I don't want any part of that.  But I'm just... tired."  He sat with me for awhile.  He accepted me in my honesty.  He didn't try to fix it.  He didn't make promises. He didn't even try to say an 'encouraging word.'  He was just present.  Partly because he's awesome like that.  And partly because he's tired too.  He feels the same way.

Rewind a week....
We had just spent the week at CHOC (Children's Hospital of Orange County) where our 3 year old had been admitted due to low oxygen levels and respiratory issues.  She was put in an isolation room where the doctors and nurses only entered with full "protective clothing" on.  (Not sure what to call it when they have to get "suited up" each time they enter the room and then throw away their "suit" each time they leave the room.  Hazmat suit, anyone?)  ;)   They told us after the wide panel of tests, everything came back "negative."  Their bottom line was that Morgan had a virus.  They didn't know which one, but they assumed it was a rare, bad virus.  They said there was no way to treat the virus.  Keeping her hooked up to oxygen was about the only thing they were able to do to help her breathe.  But other than that, we would just have to wait and see.  Wait and see how her body fights.  Or doesn't fight.  Time would tell.

One year ago, Jon was admitted to the hospital with a brain tumor.  Now almost 365 days later we were there with our 3 year old.  For the first time, in a year filled with Doctors and hospitals and appointments, I needed OUT.  Stat.  Jon took one look at me and said it even before I did.  "Um, babe, why don't you go.  You need to get out of here, I think."  He was right.  Too right.  I needed to get outside of the walls of that blasted hospital.  And I needed to have words.  With God.  Out loud words.

I walked out to the parking lot, taking deep, like-you're-in-labor breaths the whole way.  I had barely made it inside my minivan before I started in.. with intensity.  "God, I cannot do this.  I can't.  CAN. NOT."  And then I said it. "If you think this is going to be some great way for me to put you on display and be used for your glory, YOU ARE MISTAKEN."  It felt like the air got sucked out of the van.  Kind of how it feels right now as I type this.  I am embarrassed to admit those words came out of my mouth.  But in an attempt to "live out loud" and continue in this journey honestly, I confess them.  It's not that I don't think God can't handle my exasperation.  It's just that I've never so blatantly said "No" to God before.  Oh, I've said "no" many times.  But it was always more subtle.  ;)  Choosing my own way...  Not obeying...  Pretending like I didn't hear Him...  Manipulating circumstances to make them "work out"...  But never have I just said, "No."  Verbally.  I drove around the parking lot just waiting for a giant whale to swallow me up.  I immediately felt guilt.  But not enough to make me take my words back.  My flesh and my spirit were at war.  Everything in me wanted to live my life open handed.  In theory.  I want to choose Jesus every day of the week and twice on Sunday.  But I was also facing off with my fears.  My desires.  And still in the process of learning what it looks like to live  a fully surrendered life.

Fast forward back to the couch a week later.
I realized that I'm just plain tired.  And I think it's because my reserve is low.  You know when you have a full tank (in life) and you get normal, every day hits?  They don't seem to do all that much "damage" when your tank is full.  But when your tank is low, those events don't seem like "normal, every day" hits.  They feel like huge blows that deplete whatever reserves you had in there.  So you feel helpless, exasperated, desperate with each life event. The baby has a rash?  Of course she does.  Your homework isn't done yet?  Lovely!  You spilled nail polish where?!?  UGH!  And then there was the water heater that went out, the child that came home from school with lice and the other one who had it 2 weeks later.  Each life event felt like a fatal blow.  So when Morgan went into the hospital, it just about did me in.  I don't have what it takes to have a sick child right now.  Taylor was crying at school because Lord knows all this hospital business has taken an emotional toll on her.  Jon's trying to juggle work and school and an eyeball that puts him in debilitating chronic pain.  And I'm getting emails from speaking engagements I'm booked for, asking for a current "head shot" for their promotional material.  Head shot?  If you could see my face right now, you would probably cancel me as your speaker!  ;)  But we trod along.  A friend takes a updated picture of me and uses all the photoshop she can muster.  My in-laws babysit.  (and wash the car and do the laundry and... and...)  God provides.  Just enough.

The awkward part, was I had been booked to speak at an event a few weeks after my "minivan meltdown" and only few days after the "couch confession."  I was booked to speak and I felt like I had nothing to say.  I contemplated canceling.
I told God, "I have nothing to give these ladies."
And do you know what God said back to me?
"You're right."
Um, thanks?
"You have nothing to give.  But I do.  So give them Me."
What?!?  But I have to teach them something. I have to...
"Um, I'm gonna need you to try and not teach them anything right now."  He said.   "Seriously.  Just give them me.  Tell them about me.  That's it."
Sigh.
So I did what He said - only because I really didn't have any other options.  And you know what?  That experience changed me.  It was like God was saying, "Your eyes have shifted.   Shift them back to me.  You're trying to give everyone more and more of yourself.  Stop. You don't have anything to give them.  Give them me instead."

Do you know how freeing that reminder has been?
The ladies at that event will tell you, I didn't try to "teach" them one single bullet point.  I just told God's story.
My friends will tell you, I've stopped giving advice. LOL!  I just trust Jesus to speak to them and point them to Him.
My kids will tell you, I've stopped refereeing their fights and whines and complaints.  I kid you not.  Do you know what I said when Taylor came downstairs after bed time, complaining about something Jackson said to her?   "Taylor, I love you so much.  God loves you so much.  God made you so special.  He has such great plans for your life."  It was almost comical to see her reaction.  She looked puzzled and said, "What does that have to do with Jackson saying..." I interrupted her.  "Taylor, you are SO loved."  As I continued to speak words of truth over her, she began to smile. Her demeanor changed.    She repeated it back to me, kind of laughing.  "Mom, I am SO loved."  She went back upstairs a completely different child.  And do you know what?  I didn't have to parent her out of my deficite!  I didn't have to give her what I don't have.  I just gave her Jesus.  And (surprise!) He was more than enough!

I have been quiet here on the blog because I just couldn't muster up the energy to try to process all of the feelings I've experienced over the past few weeks.  I'm not even certain I've done a good job of it here, but I felt like I needed to try.  And, honestly, it took me a bit of time to muster up the cajones to write this.  There's nothing enticing about telling people that you're tired, losing steam, and "lost it" with God.  But it is what it is.  Brutal.  Real life.

I do, however, feel SUCH freedom in giving people Jesus instead of me.  I know.  Duh.  But sometimes we forget.  Sometimes we start to believe that we should be enough.  How quickly I was reminded that I'm robbing people (friends, strangers, husband, kids) of SO much by just giving them me.

I'll end by doing my favorite thing.  (if you've read my blog for any amount of time, you know this is NOT my favorite thing, but I'm learning...)
Would you continue to pray for Jon and I? :)  That God would continue to sustain?  That we would be patient in affliction?  That we would seek to fill ourselves with Jesus and pour only Him (and not ourselves) out into the world around us?

In the morning when I rise,
In the morning when I rise,
In the morning when I rise,
Give me Jesus.

Give me Jesus.
Give me Jesus.
You can have all this world.
But give me Jesus.

Morgan is in the hospital...

On Monday afternoon, Morgan (our newly 3 year old) was admitted to the hospital after having a severe cough and low oxygen levels.  Her oxygen levels are still very low and she is not yet improving.  We met with the Doctor today and I posted this on Facebook:  (thought I'd update the blog followers as well)  

Update: We met with the doctor. Here's the bottom line: Morgan has a virus. Most likely a more rare virus that doesn't present itself in the panel of virus tests they usually run. I have had a gazillion people text me and message me and email me and post on here asking about the Enterovirus. I figure I should just address that. Is it possible that Morgan has Enterovirus? Yes. Could she have another type? Yes. They are not going to do a specific test for the Enterovirus (or any other specific virus) at this point because it does not effect how they treat her. A virus is not bacterial, so there is no medication or antibiotics that can help. All they can do is what they are currently doing... Oxygen and breathing treatments to help clear the lungs + time. Her body needs time to fight. If they gave her different tests and were able to give the virus a name, it would change nothing as far as the course of action to take. (It would only elevate Jon and my stress level.)  So the reality is, we wait. We wait and see. By the grace of God, each one of us reading this are taking a breath. Morgan is no different. By God's grace. Am I struggling right now with the feeling of helplessness? Yes. I want answers and I want to know how to help my baby. But there is nothing I can do. Except the most powerful thing offered to any one of us - prayer. So I pray. And I ask you to pray. And I wait expectedly for God to strengthen and heal.

Brain Tumorversary Day...

Anniversary.  Birthday.  I don't quite know what to call it.  All I know is 1 year ago today, Jon was diagnosed with a brain tumor.  We have survived a full year.  When I mentioned to Jon that this date was approaching, he paused and said, "I can't believe I've lived with this eye pain for a year now."  If my kids were to comment on today marking 1 year, they would say, "I can't believe our dad has looked different for a full year."  If you were to talk to our parents, they would say, "I can't believe we've prayed this fervently for a year now."  If you asked Jon's co-workers about today, they would say, "I can't believe it's been a year since you've led worship at church." But me?  I can't believe we've survived a full year.  365 days is a lot of days.  The impact of those days are different, depending on who you ask.  Those 365 days held long nights in the hospital.  They held therapy appointments where Jon learned to eat, drink, walk, balance, throw, catch... again.  The past 365 days held months of Jon not being able to drive.  5, to be exact.   Those 365 days have held tears and pain and questions.  They have held celebrations and rejoicing and victories.  We have watched God show up in very practical ways through very beautiful people.  We have experienced the "peace that surpasses understanding" and can testify to its power.  We have experienced miracles that doctors cannot explain.  We have heard God say "Yes."  We have heard God say "No."  And we have heard Him say "Not yet."    And through each day, we have fallen deeper in love with each other.  We have fallen deeper in love with our children.  And we have fallen deeper - much deeper - in love with our Creator God.   Gratitude is our chief emotion.

Over the next few days, I plan to feel. More than I do on a day to day basis.  I want to let myself feel what I felt a year ago.   I plan to remember.  I plan to read texts I sent one year ago...  Telling of shock and disease and fear.  I plan to process it with Jon.  And hear what he feels.  The 24 hours between diagnosis and surgery was a blur.  We didn't have much time to think and process and feel.  So I want to go back to that place.  And feel it again.   I plan to grieve and celebrate.  And remember where our God has brought us from.  What He has done.  To see the deep deep pit and sit in wonder at His goodness.

One year ago today, our lives changed.  We lost much.  We gained much more.  Lost physical things. Gained spiritual things.  The trade off has been painful but beautiful.  I have never trusted God more. I have never believed Him more.  I have never known His faithfulness more.

Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus.  
And to take Him at His word
Just to rest upon His promise
Just to know, "Thus sayeth the Lord"

Jesus, Jesus how I trust Him
How I've proved Him over and over
Jesus, Jesus precious Jesus
Oh for grace to trust Him more.  


Happy Brain Tumorversary Day, Jon Ramsay.
You are the most courageous, handsome man I know.

And Happy Brain Tumorversary, God.
If I didn't know you so well, I'd think you were just showing off for the past year.   ;)
Thank you.


ADDITION TO THIS POST.....

YOU GUYS!!!!! Tonight, we drove to Mission Hospital, went to the ER, waited for an hour, and then got to hug, look into his eyes, and thank our ER DOCTOR from one year ago tonight! This doctor saved Jon's life! He trusted his gut when Jon came in with his headache, and ordered the most extensive tests. We just HAD to hug him and thank him!!! He said this was the highlight of his year! What a blessing that God allowed us to track him down!!