Counting My Blessings

With my brother’s recent health issues, I have been pretty emotional and grateful to all of you for your prayers. I have also been counting my blessings - in particular my Mark Blessings. 

I haven't lived at home with my brother since I was 18. Mark and I were the only two children in our small family. Twins!! Three minutes apart - Mark is older; I'm prettier, smarter, and obviously more modest! We were the only grandchildren for my maternal grandparents until we each married and had kids. We were also the first two grands for my dad's parents. We were born in England to 20-year old kids who had no idea what they were doing. My dad eventually went to Vietnam, and we came back to the US and lived with my Nana and Papa while my dad was gone. 

It was always the two of us. Apparently we had our own language and in Kindergarten, the school had to put us in different classrooms because someone in the class wouldn't let Mark talk or answer questions asked of him. I have always been helpful like that. All of the times we moved, I always had a friend - Mark. So many blessings to be grateful for. When my daughter Mackenzie was born and flown to Peoria, my brother drove like a mad man to get to me. He was really the only person I wanted to see. His biggest regret was not going to be with Mackenzie, so he could have told me about her before she passed away. Such a blessing. 

When later that same year, we my husband and I found out we were having twins - a boy and a girl - it was almost like God personally shined down upon us. He did. Our pregnancy was a blessing. When the twins, Peyton and Hayley, were born, my brother was in the waiting room ready for whatever came next. He cried tears of joy with the birth and tears of joy with Hayley's death, but he was there. He was a blessing. 

Fast forward through the years, and Mark was there. He was in the same town as all of our grandparents and helped care for each of them through the years, and when they passed away - Mark was there. He was a blessing. He was also with my mom and dad when they both passed away. He was the first person I called when I found out I had breast cancer, and the first one I called when I finished treatment. He was the first person I called when Peyton hit his first home run in travel baseball, and he cried tears of joy with me because I happened to videotape that special occasion. I also called him first when we finally got our adopted daughter Trinity to bring home. He was a blessing. 

Don't get me wrong. We have had our moments. He is very stubborn and sometimes he makes me crazy, but even then he is a blessing. 

The biggest thing about my brother is he has lost his faith. He would tell you he is faithful, but he is lost and this recent cancer scare really put his faith, or lack thereof, to the test. 

When I went to the hospital for his surgery, the hospital staff were getting him ready and asking him lots of questions. Did he have a religious preference - he said no. Did he want a spiritual person from the hospital to visit him - he said no. I had already told him my friends and church were praying for him, and he said, "I know. I knew you would ask them to." So when he said no, I said, "Seriously, what the heck?" He said, "Don't start." So I kept on praying, silently. Fast forward to the day after surgery, and Mark was walking laps around the hospital floor. His wife and I had gone to grab a coffee, and when we came back towards his ward, we ran into him on his walk. We were right in front of the chapel. Coincidence??? I don't think so. I said, "Markus, what do you know? The chapel. Remember how many times we used to come in here to pray and talk?" This is the hospital his kids were born in, and the same hospital all of our family went to our entire life. His surgery was supposed to be at the newer hospital, but at the last minute it was changed. He once again said, "Don't start." So I laughed and kept on praying. We passed a custodian at the same time, and the man said, "God bless you ladies, and may God bless you sir." Before Michele or I could answer, my brother said, "Well thank you. God bless you." Michele was shocked, and I laughed out loud. He said, "What? I'm just being friendly." Oh, this man. 

Well, my brother is a blessing, and I thank God for him every day. I felt compelled to write about my Mark blessings today because, despite a few bumps in the road since his surgery last week, he found out yesterday that the masses removed were NOT cancer. We are so grateful and relieved. He still has a long recovery, but we feel very blessed.

Continue to count your blessings, and again, thank you all for your faith and prayers. (I added a then and now picture.)