This one is a long time coming, hence it is a long time going...on and on and on...

Eden rolled over a few days ago. Eli swam across the entire deep end of the pool this week. Beaux won't wear ponytails because she likes her hair to be, in her words, "long and crazy."

These are all memories I am fighting not to forget- these and many more over the past few years. But some how no matter how hard I punch, the memories keep slipping away. Someone said once the moment is gone, all we are left with are our memories. I have laid awake in bed many nights and wondered, if I am loosing all of my memories, what in the world will I be left with? So much of the past causes me to draw a blank. I can't put myself in the situations. I don't remember the specifics. It's as if there are gaps in my timeline. My memories are just lost.

I have tried to blame my memory loss condition on sleep deprivation. I have had three small children in four years and suffered through a few sleepless nights. But two words will dispel this notion. Michelle Dougar. This woman has birthed 18 children in 20 years and something tells me she too may not be getting eight hours of consecutive sleep. I have seen her in interviews and there appears to be nothing wrong with her memory, perhaps her sanity, but not her memory. So because the sleep loss theory is weak, at best, over dinner a few weeks ago Dan and I committed to find a viable diagnosis for my symptom. Little did we know, only a few days later, our hand would be forced. On that fateful Friday evening after experiencing a severe seizure, being rushed to the hospital, getting to stay for a few days of poking, prodding, testing, and scanning- we might be closer to our answer. I don't know that being diagnosed with a seizure disorder can be considered as good news. I could rattle of a laundry list of negatives that go along with this disease and how to manage it. But maybe, just maybe, we have found the key to remembrance. Maybe I will be able to remember my baby's first word, or laughing with my family over one of Georiga's great stories, or Dan and I dreaming about the future while eating on the porch, or snuggling up and reading books with the kids, or girls night with Sarah, Britt, and lots of chips and salsa, or watching the old Adam West Batman with Eli, or riding with with windows down in Dan's truck. Maybe, just maybe, my memories won't be lost.
This has been quite an ordeal. And I'm not quite sure this chapter is closed. But even though I do struggle with my memory, there are a few things, no matter what disease I may be diagnosed with, I won't forget.

*I can't articulate the way I feel about Daniel Barnes. In Genesis Jacob is talking to his brother and says, " For I have seen your face, which is like seeing the face of God." I can catch a glimpse of what he meant.

Thank you, I love you.

*We are not meant to do this life alone. I never want to discount the people in my life as a blessing God has given me. My family and friends have rallied around us with a support and encouragement that continuously overwhelms.

*God is gracious. He was gracious in the way he allowed this to take place. He was gracious to let Dan be sitting five feet away when it began. He was gracious in giving myself, Eli, Beaux, and Eden, protection. He was gracious in allowing us to find a possible diagnosis. He was gracious in giving us an excellent Doctor. He was gracious in providing us insurance to pay our bills. He was gracious to give us family to take care of us in our great time of need. He was gracious to give us strength when we felt our weakest. There isn't enough space on the Internet to record the Lord's graciousness. He was gracious. He is gracious. He will be gracious.