Too often in life we focus on performance and assessment. We are expected to hinge our success on how well we have performed. How am I doing in my job? Am I performing well enough to get that raise? Am I out performing my coworkers? All these things continually keep us preoccupied and focused on this earthly life.

My bible study was over performance and how our performance as Christians and performance in life doesn’t help us have a seat on the throne of God. How well I do in school and how well I do at work have nothing to do with how God sees me and it doesn’t determine whether or not I’ll spend eternity in Heaven.

So why is it we are so consumed by our daily performance? As long as we are saved and we walk with God we are guaranteed a seat at the table with God. With God leading you through life, you will always perform at a high level. He will lead you to the promotion or the raise or maybe even a new job in His timing.

“Let them praise the Lord for His great love and for the wonderful things He has done for them. For He satisfies the thirsty and fills the hungry with good things.” Psalm 107:8-9

Let us remember that God will always provide in any situation. We may not always understand His plan, but we should always have peace knowing that He will provide for His people.

“I am overwhelmed with joy in the Lord my God! For He has dressed me with the clothing of salvation and draped me in a robe of righteousness. I am like a bridegroom in His wedding suit or a bride with her jewels.” Isaiah 61:10

God doesn’t have performance standards. He created me in His image.

I’m not perfect and will sin along the way, but He has saved me a seat at His throne. I will always give Him praise for all He’s done for me. And I will not forget that He have a plan for me and for you. With His help, I will continue to grow in my walk with God.

My first post on Wish Dish — Savannah’s Challenge — was a short summary of some of the things she’s been dealing with for the last 10 years. Part II is a specific story about what happened over the four days that followed that posting when her cough turned into an emergency.

This is Savannah’s story, but it’s more than that … it is an opportunity to shift our perspective. It’s interesting that Jesus said to enter the Kingdom of God one must have the faith of the child. Faith, in a sense, is perspective. And Savannah’s perspective is heavenward.

Savannah ended up spending four days in the hospital after we took her to the ER. It was amazing through all of it that the doctors never had to put her on an IV and they were never able to identify any sickness. For some reason (twisted spine, lordosis, super weak muscles, gunk getting stuck or something else), she just couldn’t get in the oxygen she needed. Her new normal (for now) is sleeping with these two machines, a BiPAP + supplemental oxygen connected. During the day she uses a vest that shakes her body to dislodge any gunk and then a cough assist that shoots air into her and then sucks air back out. Of course, she still has her 24-hour brace that she is supposed to wear around her torso because of her spine’s curve. The problem is that the doctors think that while it might slow down the progression of the scoliosis, it might also be making the lordosis worse and that could be pushing into her lungs.

Our biggest challenge right now is not knowing what this is and where it is headed.

Something has happened in her body to make her significantly weaker. And what has been a big part of our challenge with this undiagnosed genetic condition is that every year or so a new symptom of the syndrome pops up … or a symptom of a symptom. I have started emailing leading pediatric research centers around the world about Savannah and will follow up with phone calls to try to find someone who has seen a combination of Savannah’s symptoms and markers before. There is very possibly someone out there who has seen this and can help her in a way no one else can. In the meantime, we will continue to try to get some meat on her bones, do daily scoliosis and lordosis therapy, and daily strengthening and breathing exercises.

Most importantly, we will continue to tell her she’s a missionary. We watched “Miracles from Heaven” (for the third time) last night. Savannah said: “She’s a missionary just like me.” When I took Savannah to the doctor Tuesday I had to carry her in. The nurse who hooked up the machine to measure her oxygen, heart rate, and blood pressure kept turning it on and off and then unplugging it and plugging it back in. He said that there must be something wrong with the machine because “those numbers can’t be right.” The doctor came in and confirmed those numbers were right.

They sounded so concerned that after they left the room, Savannah, lying on the table barely able to move, asked me: “Daddy, am I going to die before my time?”

I’d never heard her say anything like that before. I’ve seen a scene like that in movies and I know other families have children with situations much worse than ours that deal with that question often, but Savannah saying that was the first time in these 10 years that the thought of losing her entered my head and my heart. I told her that she can’t die before her time because God is in control and that was all she needed to hear. She immediately smiled, reassured. The faith of a child lying on a doctor’s table just needing to know it was all going to be OK.

And she will be OK. She’s so grateful that her life is inspiring and encouraging others. She carries a hope inside her that gives her spirit light even when her body seems to have very little life at times. She is always positive, she never complains. Isn’t that incredible? She knows that God has purpose for her life. She knows that Heaven is for eternity and this life is for a short moment. One day about a year ago I caught her reading the Bible and I asked her which book she was reading. She was reading Revelations. I thought that would be a difficult book for a nine-year-old, but she said it is her favorite because it talks about Heaven. She asks me questions about Heaven all the time. Savannah’s hope is in something greater than anything on this earth can offer her.

And we can all live with the same hope.

The Bible says that God is perfect and we are not, and the imperfect cannot mix with the perfect. The consequence of imperfection is that it cannot be with perfection. That is the price of imperfection. Just like a speeding ticket is the price of speeding. But God didn’t want to be separated from us. So He sent His perfect Son to pay the price of our “speeding ticket” because we could not afford to do so. The Perfect was separated from the Perfect so that the imperfect did not have to be. The speeding ticket only needs to be paid once, and Jesus has paid it for you, me, Savannah, and everyone. There is nothing you can do to get to Heaven; you can’t afford the price. But you can go because Jesus could afford the price and He paid it for you.

There is no greater love than that. That is the love that fills us as we walk this journey with Savannah. That is the love that gives her peace and hope even in the midst of the storm. That is the love pursuing you today. If you will pause for just a moment and turn around, that love will be right there. That love will wrap itself around you in the most incredible hug you’ve ever imagined and that love will fill you in a way that satisfies every question, confusion, hurt, fear, anger, bitterness, anxiousness, and longing you’ve ever had. For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son that whoever believes in Him — in Him paying the price for you — will not be separated from God but instead will live with God in Heaven forever.

Please message me if you have any questions about Heaven, faith, or your eternity. Thank you for all of your prayers and encouragement.

And here is part 1 of Savannah’s Challenge:

Savannah’s Challenge

I can remember the day so clearly.

I had just started 6th grade.  I was worried about going to a new school with kids I hadn’t grown up with my whole life, learning how to use a locker, and trying out for sports.  I didn’t think I’d be worrying about a deadly illness that alters so many lives each year, each day, each second for that matter.

My mom hadn’t been feeling well for a while, but I figured it was nothing serious, until she went to the doctor and sat me down that evening.

She had cancer.

Stage 3 colon cancer to be exact. I am from Augusta, Georgia.  It’s a large town with a small town feel, if that makes sense.  Everyone knows everyone, well at least the parents do.  Life was happy there.  I grew up with an older sister to play with, a mom who loves me, and a dad who always tells me to be the free spirit I am.  Things aren’t always happy, though.

One-day life hits you in the gut so hard you think you might never catch your breath again.  For me, that was the day my mom was diagnosed with cancer. I didn’t believe her at first.  Sitting in her bathroom I sat there sobbing as she broke the news.  Sobbing because I was angry, because I didn’t understand why this happened to her, because it wasn’t fair.  She didn’t cry when she told me.  She was strong and sat there holding me.  That night after I finally got my emotions under control I realized I had to be strong for her.  She couldn’t do this on her own.

Stage 3 colon cancer is no joke.  Things were bad.  My mom was in her late 40s when she was diagnosed.  Most people don’t even get a colonoscopy until they are 50.  If my mom had waited that late, she wouldn’t be with me here today.

Death.

People shy away from it, don’t want to talk about it, dance around the word like actually talking about it will make it happen, but there it was staring me straight in the face. My mom’s cancer was advanced and it wasn’t the best scenario, but then again with cancer is there even a best scenario?  She was going to have to go through chemo and radiation as well as an intensive surgery.  And then even more chemo.

I can remember her barely being able to walk into the house because she was so exhausted from treatment, crawling into the garage because she was so fatigued. My mom didn’t give up.  She was more than this sickness.  She wasn’t going to let it cripple her and wither her away.  She never complained or said she was tired.  She was scared, terrified even, but she didn’t let it show because letting it show let the cancer win and that wasn’t happening.

I remember hearing a lot of things I didn’t understand, medical terms, all much too technical. To be honest, I didn’t really want to know what it all meant because I was scared one day someone would say she only has a year left, or a few months.

Before my mom had surgery, she went through 6 weeks of chemotherapy as well as radiation.  I could see how it drained her, sucked the life out of her, but she kept on going.

Then the day of the surgery came.

I remember being at the hospital.  I’ll never forget that sterile smell.  It burned my nose and made me feel sick to my stomach.  I sat in the waiting room with family and friends waiting…waiting for the doctors to come out and say your mom is fine, everything is ok.

That isn’t what happened.

It had been 8 grueling hours.  Each minute that went by I got more afraid. I couldn’t imagine my life without my mom.

I was supposed to be worried about boys and middle school drama but here I was worried about if I would ever hear her voice again.  I couldn’t imagine not having her look in my room every night and tell me she loved me and would see me in the morning, or tell me funny stories and laugh with me.  My mom’s laugh is so distinct.  It’s so loud and high pitched I could always pick it out of a crowd.

As I’ve gotten older I notice more and more that I laugh like her, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. The eighth hour came and doctors walked out and said if my mom stayed under any longer she probably wouldn’t survive.  We didn’t know what else to do but pray.  I remember standing there with hot tears streaming down my face beside my family and friends as we stood in a circle and began to hold hands and we prayed.

Prayed for her to live.

Prayed for her to be healthy and the cancer to go away.

Prayed for her not to leave us so soon.

I was so angry because I didn’t understand why God did this to her.  I realized, though, that it made my mom stronger, which is hard to believe that was even possible.  It made her stronger for the other events that were to happen to her later. They say rain makes trees grow deeper roots.  My mom grew deeper roots in all this rain and darkness.  She was still a guiding light.

She survived the surgery.  I remember seeing her after it. She had so many tubes feeding into her pale, frail body. I felt sick. I hated seeing her like that but at the same time I was just happy to see her breathing. See her chest moving up and down.  I can say that without her I wouldn’t be the person I am today and I probably wouldn’t be at the University of Georgia like I am now.

After my mom recovered from surgery, she had more chemotherapy.  The day finally came when she finished her last treatment and she went into remission. She is now cancer free 8 years, has run multiple 5ks and a half marathon, as well as receive two promotions at work. She was strong then and still is strong now.  The whole time I thought I was going to have to be strong for her because she needed me but it turned out she was strong for me and my family.

She never let the cancer stop her.  She didn’t let it weigh her down because if she had it would have consumed her. I remember her telling me the statistic when was diagnosed was that 1 in 4 people get cancer.  She looked at me and said “I got cancer but I hope I was the 1 out of the 4 members of our family to get it.” She would have rather her suffer than to see us suffer. I can not think of a greater amount of love and sacrifice than when she told me that.

After watching my mom’s battle and seeing her survive I have been a member for Relay For Life for many years.

I not only Relay for my mom, but my Granny and great-aunt Dot who survived breast cancer, my cousin Nick who is currently battling Leukemia, and my Pop who passed away from lung cancer my sophomore year of high school. It’s not just about the loved ones I know affected by cancer, though. It’s about everyone who was affected, is affected, will be affected.  It’s about having hope in a better tomorrow.

My mom had hope, and so do I. I have hope that there will be a day where there is a cure.  Until then I fight.  I fight for loved ones lost, for those currently battling, and for those who will battle. My mom never gave up, and neither will I. She taught me strength and courage, and she continues to do so everyday. She is a force that cannot be stopped and everything I aspire to be.

So I encourage you to sign up for Relay For Life, donate to someone’s page, or participate in a local Relay For Life event near you. Together we will finish the fight.

If you would like to donate to help me meet my fundraising goal here’s the link.