Fixed and Focused

I’ve spent 19 years “fixing” Josh. Born with Sickle Cell Anemia, Josh came home through the miracle of adoption when he was 6 months old. He’s been a medically complex kid since the day he arrived into our lives—gaining full access to our hearts before we even laid eyes on him.

hospital bedThis last year, through 90 nights in the hospital, my mama “fixer feature” was in overdrive. I had my job cut out for me. When Josh was at the Hospice House at the end of August, I was forced to confront the reality that I could no longer “fix” Josh. It was crushing. I had a new job.


Joshua’s oxygen saturation numbers have been plummeting since December, 2012. He’s been winded for the last nine months with activities we don’t give a second thought to preforming. I’ve heard him breathless before, trying to find air to make it through a sentence, but while we were at the Hospice House, it was coupled with wheezing and rattling through each long night. This I could not fix.

It shook me to the core. I had to slip into the bathroom to muffle my shaking sobs.

“I don’t know if I can do this, God.”

The first work of surrender is anguish. It cannot be neglected.

Over the last month, we’ve walked into a new world:

  • Signing a DNR (do not resuscitate) is a bottomless pit. My hand shook. My heart shattered. They have not stopped.
  • Stopping routine tests and treatments. (painfully difficult as these were a way of life)
  • Regulating my life to pain control and poop patrol. I get to wear my mama “fixer” hat in those arenas. (High volume pain medication requires a Herculean commitment to a bowel management routine.*)

Over the last couple weeks, as Josh stabilized, I have have moved from “fixer” to “surrenderer” to “fulfill-er” of dreams—God sized dreams. God is planting dreams in Josh’s heart. He’s running the race like never before, eyes fixed and focused.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus … Hebrews 12:1-2a

Fixed and focused, let’s each run our race.

* Wanna Laugh?
While helping Josh with an enema the other day, my aim was not good. “Mom! Stop! You’re making a new hole. The one I have is all I need!”

First time here?

10 thoughts on “Fixed and Focused”

  1. Oh, Brenda, it hurts to laugh, but ya gotta. I’m so glad to hear the sparkle back in your voice. I go for a CT tomorrow/today. I haven’t slept. Too much pain. As I’ve laid here I’ve prayed…a lot for y’all. Letting go hurts. Moms fight for their babies no matter how old they get, but the time comes when the have to learn to fly. Oh, how it hurts. No longer are we their worlds and we can’t allow them to be ours. Is there a book somewhere that teaches moms to let go? My kids are grown and I still struggle. They have their lives. Where is mine? Well, I guess it’s where it’s always been…hanging onto Jesus. He has pulled us through so many times… why would He stop now? Love you, girl. Oh, that cloud of witnesses…I got a picture for me that my cloud of witnesses are the people in my church family. They are all cheering me on and keeping me going. Lots of us here are witnessing to your walk and cheering you all on. Hang on.

    • Betty,
      Cheering you on as you cheer me!
      And do you know you’re cheering others as well through the blog?!
      The other day I ran into a friend and she spoke about YOU. Said “wow” to your testimony, your faith, your writing.
      Keep sharing what God stirs in your heart. OK.
      When will you have the results from the CT scan?
      Praying for the pain — especially through the watches of the night.
      Peace, my friend.

      • The pain is intense. The weakness great. I will hear Monday or Tuesday. The blood work came back no infection, but inflammation. Nurse mentioned arthritis. I’ll see what the doctor says next week. I just hurt. Tears don’t want to stop. But I KNOW I am loved and held in the arms of my Savior. I KNOW that though things are rough and I say Lord, please, He asks me to hang on just a little longer. Just until a few more of His kids find their way home. I can hang on for Jesus. He hung on for me. For you too. Just a little longer, my friend. Just a little longer. We can do it.

  2. Brenda, My heart goes out to you….I went from crying to belly laughing in the time that it took to read this. This is LOVE Jill

    Sent from my iPhone


  3. God gives us “gifts” we never asked for, nor desired. My love to you, Josh and the family.
    PS: I did the same enema thing while caring for my dad. His reply was not so mild. But laughter gets us through even in such times.

    • Hi Nicole,
      Please tell Nikolas that his prayers from Prague are precious!
      Hug him.
      Thank him.
      Tell him Josh sends a big hello.
      God’s richest blessings on your day.
      Brenda and Josh!

  4. Thinking of you. Praying for you through the long hours of the night. May the Peace of God which passes all understanding keep you all throughout the hours of this watch.


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