A Prayer for You.....

I see so many friends needing something I cannot give them- healing, miracles, peace- the list goes on and on. The one thing I can do is pray for them. Here is my prayer.

"How can I lift my aching heart?" I pray for answers dear
How can I feel something else to lift my worry and my fear
Then I am reminded to go and serve when I feel this way
I recall that prayer absorbs much of life's cruel pain

I see you in your time of need, much greater than my own
Have I forgotten what it's like to walk that path alone
I find I cannot yet do things like I did before
But I must help those in need, so I kneel upon the floor

I bow my head and close my eyes and offer up a prayer
To Father God, who listens close in triumph or despair
And I ask Him to lift your heart and ease your burdens now
So you may have peace you need in this moment, somehow

He gently then commands His angels to wrap you up in peace
So you may rest, so you may sleep, find comfort in your need
And with love, our Father then holds you in His hands
So you may feel secure and know the pain will someday end

Then tonight as slumber flows into the place of dreams
It is filled with a calm that comforts you and me
For when one soul is aching and needing to be still
It is a prayer of love that's said to show His love is real

 - Jenny McKinney
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Balancing Act

Raise your hand if you love the circus? (Yes, the one in the "Annabelle" episode of Little House counts. I loved how Laura made Manly's date run out. Ha!) I remember as a child going to a little local circus- probably like that of the "Gambini the Great" episode of Little House. (Why yes, I AM on a Little House kick right now. Thanks for asking.) It is not so much the clowns or elephants that come to mind when I think of the circus. It is that of the tight rope walker, especially when they are balancing something on a pole, head, or arms. A balancing act- isn't that what so many of us do from day to day? Balancing families, work, friends, social media (Admit it, you have to balance that too!) hobbies, etc.

When I was finally diagnosed, I became aware that I would have to balance out my day to day emotions with my heart condition. Because we were not expecting my heart to be permanently fixed, what I was not planning on was balancing my emotional state after my procedure. I know that I am still in healing mode after a 17 year (or more) battle with my heart. I understand that. What I cannot figure out is why my emotions are so fragile. Shouldn't I just be joyously jumping up and down day to day because I am going to live? I shared this with someone the other day: I am more uncertain about myself now than before my procedure. I knew what was in my future back then. Now, I do not know, thus, part of my emotional struggle.

For as long as I can remember, my life has been guided by God, almost to the point of hand holding. Now, it's as if He is saying, "Go the direction you want. You have earned that!"
    "But God," I reply, "What direction?"
    "Any direction!" He urges.
    "So are you saying I don't need You to tell me where I should be now? You are not going to guide me anymore?"
     "No, Child. I am simply saying that whatever path you choose, be it for good, I will always be right with you. However, it is your path to take now. You can take the steps on your own now. I will catch you when you fall, but I am letting you go. Time to walk, run and dance on your own."

Like any good parent, He is letting go and allowing me to soar. Like any human, I am an emotional wreck over it. I feel confused, sad, joyful, excited. I am angry one day and totally happy the next. It is a part of healing, I am sure. I am having to rediscover myself, reinvent who I desire to be. Like a tight rope walker, I am striving to balance my emotions- not on top of my head, not flipping around on a pole, but inside my heart. One thing is for sure. My heart is physically healed. Now, I just need to get it emotionally strong, unlike it has ever been before.

(This is a picture of my healed heart, drawn by my 6-year-old daughter)

I know one day, I will be able to permanently balance my emotions that come with a working heart. For now, I am happy to just be adjusting one day at a time.

My name is Jenny McKinney. My healthy heart is a balancing act and I really could use some chocolate.

A Month of Greatness

Several years ago, I wrote a song for a man who, in my eyes, is full of greatness. Everyday, he would go to visit his wife in her nursing home. Every morning, he would fix her hair and makeup how she always loved it. Every evening, he would return to get her ready for bed. He was not able to completely care for her in her late years, but he did all he could to make her happy and comfortable. After she passed away, he felt as if he had not done enough. He is the kindness, most humble man. He exudes greatness.

Today marks the one month anniversary of my heart being repaired, one month since I was told, "You no longer have ARVD. You will never need an ICD." It is hard to believe that more than four weeks have passed. As I reflect on this first month of having a fully functional heart, I have to wonder: Have I done anything to exude greatness? I have rested, rested and rested some more. I have made dinner for my family. I have written a couple of new songs and moved forward with my music career. I have told my husband and kids "I love you" more often. I have made new friends. I have helped a car accident victim. On the other hand, I have argued with my siblings. I have avoided people. I have not been as positive as I could be, as I should be. Does this equal greatness? Right now, probably not. The nice thing about this journey is I have time.

Now, knowing some of my dear friends are reading this, I know, I know. I am allowed to take time to rest and heal. And I am! (Sort of.) Knowing me, though, you should know that I still want to do something great even while resting. So today, as I have been reflecting on this past month of my life, I decided that everyday is great, as long as I make it that way. Making dinner is creating greatness, as long as it is with love. Writing new songs is creating greatness, as long as I am doing it for the sake of others, and not just to make a buck. Telling my family I love them is always creating greatness. Even the days that have had difficult moments can create greatness, as long as I am praising God for all He has given me and finding some kind of joy in the journey.

Greatness does not have to be extravagant. Greatness can be ordinary, as long as you are creating it in an extraordinary way.

My name is Jenny McKinney. I have had a month of greatness and.... chocolate.

Conquering Mountains... Almost

What makes you sparkle? This summer, as I have suffered with ARVD, had surgery and been recovering from all of it, all while moving to a new state and being in a temporary living situation with family, I have been on a search for my sparkle that I lost some time ago. I have searched in the trees, in the water, at the mall, in Idaho, and in chocolate (of course). 8 days ago, when we came across Samantha in her upside-down pickup truck, something shifted in me. (The photo was taken by Sam after her truck was turned upright.) After all the wheelings and dealings, I think I am getting close to finding my sparkle.

Let's Review: If you do not already know the story, I was going to die. Remember, I was at high risk for going into cardiac arrest. It took 16 years to be diagnosed with this heart condition and if the doctors did not do surgery on me and give me an ICD, then.... I would die. If my heart rate got over 120 bpm, it could kill me. Then, I had my miracle. The doctors fixed my heart and now.... I am going to live! Hooray!

In finding out I was going to live, I began to be more open to.... everything. I want to learn more. I want to experience more. I want to live more. However, I have to remember that even though it has been four weeks (and one day) since my hospital visit, I am still in recovery mode. I learned that the hard way when I went hiking yesterday. Oh boy, does my area of intrusion hurt! (Yes, Mom, I know you told me so. I had to try, though.) The hike was not overly difficult, but when you have recently had doctors send foreign objects into your veins and heart, you tend to feel it when using muscles you do not use everyday.

On this hike, my youngest boy and I stuck together. We liked to keep the slower pace because I am technically still in recovery and he is not much of a hiker. We would set a goal, make it to that goal, rest for a minute, then start all over again.
"Mom, I can't go anymore," he would express to me.
"Yes, you can! Let's just get to the tree (or stone, or marker) then we can rest. You can set the next goal after that," I would tell him. "You can do it!" Encouraging him to do this way the only way I could help him not quit the hike. He kept going. I kept going. We were going to do this thing!

When we were about to the top of the mountain, we stopped for our (hopefully) last rest. From where we were, we could see the Great Salt Lake. With total exhaustion, and nerves from the height, he sweetly said to me, "Mom, I just cannot go any farther." I reassured him that I was very proud of him for making it as far as he did and that I would finish the hike for both of us. He stayed at the lookout point, which alone was impressive to me, because it was rather high up. By then, my pain was not too bad, so I thought I could keep going. I went a little bit farther, just where the path curved and we had to climb over some small boulders, and then saw the drop-off. Immediately, I felt a panic attack setting in.

B-Man and I are both severely afraid of heights. I get nervous just climbing on a ladder. I get nervous taking the glass elevator up two floors at the local library. Hiking to the top of a mountain (or foothill in this case) was fine.... until I saw the drop. I knew that if I pushed my pain in my groin area, plus had a panic attack at the top, I would not make it down very easily. My husband and our teen son already had our 6-year-old girl, plus our dog, at the top. They did not need Baby Me to be up there, just to panic. I really wanted to do it, though. Truly. I wanted to finish for B-Man, who did the best he could. I wanted to do it for me, to celebrate my one-month mark of my new life. I really, really wanted to finish. So, I took one more step and... turned around. I came down the path, toward my youngest boy... and I was in tears.
"Mom, are you crying?" he kindly asked.
"Yes..... I have failed you, Buddy. I couldn't make it to the top. I am so sorry. I just couldn't do it. I have failed," I cried to my young son.
"Oh Mom," he replied. "You have not failed. You made it to the next goal. You kept going as far as you could. It's ok, Mom. I am proud of you. You did not fail."

He hugged me. B-Man rarely hugs anyone. I get a hug a day, because I am his mom. Even then, it is more like a pat on the back. Because of his autism and sensory struggles, he cannot handle physical touch. A hug at this point was so needed to comfort my own disappointed heart.
"C'mon, Mom. Let's beat them all down the trail," he encouraged. We began walking down the trail. Suddenly, I heard Miss B (age 6) yell, "Mom! I did it! I made it to the top! I conquered my fear of heights, Mom! Yeah!" she yelled with a fist pump from the top of the peak. There she was with Daddy, Big Brother and her awesome self. How could I not be proud? (The picturesque view is from the top of the Peak. Credit Salt Lake Magazine.)

B-Man stayed by me much of the way down the trail. I had to stop often, as going downhill was much harder on the area of invasion in my groin area... much harder. At one point, I began to tear up again and my sweetheart asked me what was wrong. I explained to him about not making it to the top. He lovingly told me I went really far and I should be proud of myself for what I had accomplished. I said, "Yes, but it is like making it to the 99th stair out of 100 and turning back."
"But at least you made it up 99," was his kind reply. Sigh. I love my men.

B-Man and I have set a goal that one day we will conquer this small mountain- together. On that day, he told me, is the day he conquers his fear of heights. I cannot wait to be with him and do it together.

As my one month anniversary to my new life approaches, I am learning that healing takes place in all shapes, sizes and mountains. Sometimes, I can conquer hills, sometimes it is mountains, but as long as I am continually moving forward, my body will be whole again when it is time. I am learning a lot about setting and accomplishing goals, conquering fears, and the amazing love of my family. My heart was not working properly for a very long time. It has really been only a few days that it has been repaired. I need to cut myself some slack and just do the best I can as I go through this process. In that, I am finding my sparkle.

My name is Jenny McKinney. I am conquering mountains so who wouldn't want chocolate?

Testing My Heart: Responding First

Labor Day Weekend.... for many it is a time for bbq's, camping, and last minute swimming. For our family, it was a quick trip back to Nampa, ID to gather needed items out of storage, visit friends, get our dog back from our friends' care, and be first responders at the scene of a car accident.

In the early hours of Sunday morning, with barely a car on the road, our family was headed westbound between Twin Falls and Mountain Home, ID. We were just approaching mile marker 149 when we saw a large plume of dust from the sloping, tumbleweed filled median. Immediately, my husband say the vehicle that had crashed, and without hesitation he pulled to the side of the road. The pickup was at the base of the sloped median, facing west, upside down. The cab was crushed all the way down. Speedily, my eldest son and I both threw our shoes on. As my hubby, Milo, and my eldest, Tylan, and I all threw open our car doors, I yelled to the other three to stay in the car and pray for those in the accident. The three of us raced to the impact site. Across the highway, about 30 yards away, a trucker had pulled his semi over and was running to aide the victim as well. We got to the smashed up vehicle about the same time.

Milo could get no cell signal, except that of the emergency one. It was enough. As he spoke to the emergency dispatch, Trucker (as I will call him, since I never got his name), Tylan and I tried to figure out if anyone was alive in the truck. The damage was severe; certainly the injuries would be as well. We called out, "Hello? Can you hear us?" Nothing. "Hello? Can anyone hear us?" After what seemed like an eternity of holding my breath, we finally heard a faint response, "Yes, I can hear you." Praise God. They were alive. I began asking questions. First: How may of you are there? "Just me," she responded. As Tylan and Trucker began looking for a way to get her out, and Milo was on the phone, we noticed there was debris scattered everywhere. Realizing there was no way we were going to get her out without help, Tylan and Trucker began collecting her belongings that were strewn about and I went and crouched next to the passenger side where she could hear me better.
 
     "Sweetie, what's your name?" I implored.
     "Samantha," she responded calmly.
     "Samantha, I'm Jenny."
     "Nice to meet you." Great! She has a sense of humor. We were going to get through this.
     "Samantha, don't move. Help is on their way. We are going to get you out of there."
      "Ok, thank you."
      "Samantha, how old are you?"
      "24."
      "Ok, Sam. I am 36 so I am going to play the role of big sister."
      "Sounds good." I smiled. She was conscious. She was calm. She was being cooperative.
      "Sam, can you feel your toes?" Although I have no real medical training beyond basic first aid as a teenager, I had watched enough real-life emergency and fictional emergency shows over the years. I knew this was a critical question to determine the state of her being.
      "Yes. I can feel everything. I can move my toes. I was wearing my seat belt. I took it off." She then attempted to reach her hand through the 3 inch gap between the door and the ground. She maneuvered her face so she could see me. I could see one eye and the blood covering her face. We made eye contact. I smiled. She moved again so I could no longer see her.
     Tylan and Trucker continued to look for her items in between moment of checking on the situation. Milo was still taking to Emergency Services. I kept talking to Sam. I asked her where she was headed. She was going to Mountain Home to start a new job in a couple of weeks.
     "Where will you be working?" She explained to me she would be working at a bounce house- one of those places where kids come to jump on the blow up houses and slides.
     "So you will get to work with kids! Do you like children?"
     "I love children," she responded. I smiled again. I asked her if she has any of her own. She does not. Just as Tylan and Trucker were finishing gathering her items, she asked me, "Did you happen to see my cell phone? I need to call my dad. He is gonna be so mad. This is his truck." Tylan and Trucker went in search for her cell phone while Sam and I continued to talk. She was unbelievably calm. I was unbelievably calm.

Tylan found the cell and slipped it to her. Trapped inside the crushed cab of a truck, this young lady called her dad.
     "Dad, it's Sam. You are going to be mad. I was in an accident...... Yeah, I'm ok." Then nothing.
     "Sam, did you reach your dad?" I inquired.
     "Yeah, but then my phone went dead." Oh boy. As a parent, I can imagine the stress of that call: Hearing your child was in an accident, then the line goes dead. Not knowing where it happened or how serious the injuries are would be the worst.

I left Sam for a minute so we could do some figuring. We were not able to pry the doors open to see if she could crawl out. The nearest main town with a emergency vehicles was about 20 miles away, and although it had only been a few minutes since the accident, it seemed like it was taking forever for them to get there. Just then, a truck pulled up. Because he had the little white flashing light on the sides of his hood, we assumed he was in the line of service, perhaps an off duty police officer. Large in stature and wearing a bright orange, long sleeve shirt, he walked onto the scene without identifying himself, and attempted to take charge of the scene. We told him what we knew. He went to ask Samantha the same questions I already had shared the answers to. Then, he asked if anyone had a crowbar. He was going to pry the doors open. Trucker ran to his truck to see if he had one. Huh. So... the emergency dispatcher on the phone was telling Milo to not pry the doors open, to let the Fire Department do it because we could not risk injuring her further with a possible neck injury. Yet, the assumed off duty officer was going to just stroll up and what... get her out? Interesting.

I went to check on Sam. There was no response. I was a bit worried.
     "Sam? Sam, can you hear me?" Nothing. I tried again. "Sam, do you hear me?"
     Then there was a muffled, "Yeah, I hear you." What was going on? Where was she? It's not like she could go anywhere.
     Then, Big Man Orange Shirt suddenly said from the driver's side, "Hold on! Don't move!" It seems that Courageous Samantha decided she had enough of being trapped. I ran to the other side of the truck and there, just like in "The Wizard of Oz" were two shoes sticking out from underneath the house truck. Although we tried to convince her to not move, Sam began wiggling her body out from a gap between the door and the ground, no more than 7 inches big! She just wiggled and shimmied until her whole body was out. The EMT's were not even there yet and she made her way out of the truck. Unbelievable! Big Man Orange Shirt and I told her to just sit still against the truck, although she wanted to get up and move. She had a large gash above her right eye, along with a huge goose egg. She had blood and dirt matted in her hair. Her face and teeth were covered with blood, but she had no broken bones to speak of and she was alive!
Milo was finally off the phone and took the position to wave down the emergency vehicles as they arrived. Depending on what side of the highway they were on, they may not have seen the accident right away. The first emergency vehicle was just pulling up when Big Man Orange Shirt decided to make his exit. Weird. Wonder who he was. Emergency Man #1 with big, thick welding-type gloves on, was hurrying over from his truck when Tylan and I yelled she was out. Trucker came running from the other direction at that moment with a crowbar when we told him the same thing. They both slowed down.
     "She's out? Is she ok?" yelled Gloved Helper.
     "She's ok," I yelled back.
     "Can I get something to blow my nose?" Samantha inquired. "Maybe wipe my face?" I don't blame her. She had blood all over her face, running in her eyes and into her mouth.
     "The next vehicle that comes will have that," Gloved Helper responded. Apparently not all emergency vehicles have basics in their car like tissues or wipes. I wish our van had been closer to go get her something. As it was, Tylan had gone up to check on his siblings and let them know she was ok, Milo was flagging down the next approaching emergency vehicle and Trucker was just standing by to see where he would be needed. Sam got her phone out and called her dad again. At least she was staying put, leaning against the truck.

Emergency Man #2 came down the hill and we could see the ambulance coming down the road. They were asking what had happened and she readily admitted she fell asleep at the wheel. As they were surmising the scene, Sam was on the phone still and I could see she was beginning to shiver.
     "Sam, are you cold?" I asked her.
     "Yeah, I am a little cold," she replied with a shaky voice. Shock.
     "Do you have a blanket?" Milo had to prompt the EMT. Emergency Man #2 (aka Blanket Man) went to get one. As he was coming back to the scene, I told him she had shimmied herself out. He chuckled and said that was a very good sign. As Sam continued to talk to her dad on the phone, Gloved Helper and Blanket Man were covering her up with the blanket.
     "Sam, they need to take care of you. Can I talk to your dad? Let me talk to him while they help you," I urged her as I reached out for her phone. She told her dad she would call him back and she ended the call. As the EMT's treated her, I got her number and said I would call her in a couple of days. Would that be ok?
     "Sure," she said. Her words began to slur as she told me the number. Shock was really setting in.
The ambulance pulled up. We knew she was in good hands.


The EMT's thanked us for our help. We said goodbye to the young lady whose life was spared. We bid farewell to Trucker- a good man on his way to make a drop in Salt Lake City. Quietly, we walked away, each of us reflecting on the event that just happened.

As I have reflected this weekend on the miracle it was for that young woman to crawl away from that accident, I am in awe. I am in awe that her injuries were not more severe. I am in awe that we were able to be at that precise place at the precise time to help someone in need. The roads were practically barren early on a Sunday morning. There were no other cars that stopped until the EMT's had arrived and even then, only one. I am in awe that as human beings, most of us have a divine drive to stop and help when we see someone in that kind of need. I am in awe that my heart allowed me to race down a hill, to help in an emergency situation and not spiral out of control with crazy rates, as it would have done before. I am in awe that we can reach out to others and together create greatness out of goodness.

I will call Sam today, just as I promised. I know she will be ok.

My name is Jenny McKinney. I am in awe and I really want some chocolate.

Update: Sam got herself out of the passenger side of the car, not the driver's side. Also, I just spoke with her on the phone. She is doing well, except for being a little sore. She had no major injuries that showed in her scans at the hospital. Not even a concussion! We agree that she was definitely being watched out for. I am so grateful for this happy ending!