Twenty Years for Nathan and the Same for Me

Nathan celebrated 20 years yesterday. The day was about him. Not me. But when I thought about his birthday a week ago, his twenty years symbolized mine - my twenty years as a mom.

I'd never before connected 
the two.

As I cleaned and straightened the house in preparation for a family celebration tomorrow, I figured out why. For twenty years, my boys well being remained a top priority. Above music. Above writing. Above teaching. As a single parent for ten of those years (and a sick parent for more than five), I felt it had to.

So for twenty years I woke up and planned meals. For twenty years I prayed my boys would know the God of heaven. For twenty years I served as a sounding board, an advisor, a disciplinarian, a provider, an encourager, a health coach and so much more.

The anniversary holds even more significance. For in less than five months the younger of my two will pack his bags and move into a dorm at GA Tech. My twenty years of hands on mothering will stop. I will step back even further and offer support from afar.

The thought woke me at 2:40 am Thursday morning, the night after the KMHS swim banquet - Sam's last. Panic kept me from sleep. How does 20 years come to an abrupt halt?

Answers never came.

But when we listened as Nathan sang with the UGA Hodgson Singers the following night, on his birthday, peace calmed my uncertainty.

The music brought tears. Nathan beamed with life. And after twenty years, a mother couldn't ask for more than to watch her son grow into a man, seeking God and singing strong.

So I celebrate Nathan. And just this once, on his birthday, I celebrate me and twenty years and all that time just being mom.

Don, Aunt Laura, Josh, Drew, Grandma, Nathan, Nana, Great Grandma, Aunt Deb, and Papa

"My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding— indeed, if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the LORD and find the knowledge of God." (Pr. 2: 1-5)

Check out Susan Schreer Davis on Itunes -

How the Stars Aligned My Meds

I don't volunteer much due to my unpredictable body. But for the second year in a row I've helped with the annual KMHS swim banquet by writing names on stars. Over 80 names on more than 80 stars.

It's a brainless activity. I write while half watching NCIS or The Mentalist, so on banquet night every team member is represented on "the wall".

Pleased with myself, I delivered the box of stars to the banquet chair well before the deadline last year. What I didn't expect was the blessing I received chatting outside her front door.

As we spoke I learned she'd battled a brain tumor. Surgery removed the growth but left her in pain. She completed an education degree anyway and was moving forward with life. But daily depended on pain meds.

I was in the midst of experimenting with my pain meds. Tired of feeling groggy in the morning, I'd given a medicine I'd not had a good experience with a second try. Too much of it created problems by summer, but by fall I found a combination that worked.

Through the turmoil I remembered my conversation with the banquet chair. It took time for her to sort out what medicines worked best. While I'd rather not be on any, I found comfort knowing someone had searched and found the right combination and was living life beyond the limits of pain.

Finding pain control that doesn't alter your person or weight is next to impossible. But I've come to accept there's not a perfect combination, simply balance.

So the stars didn't align my meds in grand order. Rather they led me to someone who helped me understand that alignment is more a jagged juggle.

There's talk of medical breakthroughs for mitochondrial patients in the next few years. Those meds, I'd really like to try.

Looking Back, Facing Forward

An unfamiliar noise interrupted my quiet coffee time while Nathan was home for spring break. He ignored my initial inquiry but eventually confessed he was scanning old photos. Back in Athens he uploaded them onto Facebook. Family vacations from as far back as 1998 can now be viewed on his Facebook page.

While I relish the memories, the photos that stood out to me most involved walking. Here's a few:

This is Nathan striking a dramatic pose at an entrance to the Superstition Mountains outside of Phoenix, Arizona.We took a trip there with his dad's family in 2000, when he was in second grade. We hiked this trail with cousins and aunts because his dad loved to hike this trail when he lived there years ago. My legs never faltered.

This is Nathan and Sammy and me at Camp Greystone in Tuxedo, North Carolina during family camp - a few years before we returned for two entire summers. Camp was beautiful, fun, busy, and tiring. My arms weren't always reliable, but during the summer months of '03 and '04 my legs took me everywhere I needed to go.

After our first summer at camp, my dad decided to retire as a Delta pilot.  His last trip took him to Paris and he wanted all of us with him.  Three planes carried nine members of our family across the ocean on passes.  Our last night in the city of lights included a special dinner hosted by dad for the entire crew and family.  I remember the walk to the restaurant well. The perfect weather. My favorite heels. The swanky dress my grandfather (who died months before) picked out. And my favorite little men - one on each side.

 I could have strolled through Paris for hours that night.

Now, all that has changed.

An orthopaedic doctor ordered an MRI of my ankle Tuesday after a neurologist ordered an MRI of my neck last week. My muscles and joints aren't working well. Some days I fight worry. Others I just ignore it all. But there's no denying my left leg works better if I wear a brace to stabilize the ankle.

More surgery? A permanent brace? I won't know the options for a month. And even then, deciding won't be easy.

But relishing the past has given me strength to face forward and let God continue to be God. Isn't that gracious of me?

"We also rejoice in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance, perseverance, character, and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us." (Rom. 5: 3-5)

I loved walking free. But on my best days, I'm relearning that daily dependence is the best thing.

(Don't forget to check out susan schreer davis on Itunes)

Susan on Itunes

This photo was taken six years and fifteen pounds ago, when I last recorded a full length collection of my songs.

Unsteady legs with no diagnosis left me lacking in confidence. So promoting my music took second place to finding out what was wrong with my body.

It stayed second place for quite a while.


Nieces and nephews pushed me to do more last summer. In September, Laura, who heads The Foundation for Mitochondrial Medicine, encouraged me to perform a coffee shop gig during mitochondrial awareness week and debut the song Hope Flies.

A few weeks ago, someone close said, "Susan, you need to get your music on Itunes." I'd considered it before, even started the process once. But never finished.

The words went deep so I started the process again.

I got stuck when it came time to pay the one time fee. With finances tight, it seemed frivolous to put more money into music that was recorded years ago. So I prayed, "Lord, if you want me to do this, you have to provide the money. I can't justify this expense without a direct sign from you."

The next day, I called a medical office concerning a bill I'd been making payments on for four months. The billing assistant looked it over closely and decided I didn't owe the money. She promised a full refund, which was ten dollars short of the amount I needed to get my music on Itunes.

Amazed, I finished the web site process and sent my Cd's to CD Baby. 

As I waited for the music to be uploaded onto the site, I received a facebook message from a name I didn't recognize. A man I met on an airplane over seven years ago wrote to ask if I had more music available. He reminded me that I sold him a CD before we parted ways and was interested in buying more.

Humbled. Honored. Surprised.

About a week after he wrote, the songs showed up on Itunes. Search my full name: Susan Schreer Davis. You'll find them there, available as downloads.

I don't know how much music I will sell on Itunes. But the encouragement I've had on the way has spurred me on.

So if you find it and like it, write a review and tell your friends.

Cause Susan's now on Itunes.

"Play the harp well, sing many a song, so that you will be remembered." (Is. 23: 16)

His Best Time Ever: 1:05.76

I downloaded prom and state meet photos this afternoon. I should have written about the state meet weeks ago but a certain DQ slowed progress. By the time I realized the DQ issue would not resolve, Sam was wheezing again and doc appointments distracted from good memories.

Docs have since increased two asthma meds, stabilizing his health -- until his hand was cleated during a round of ultimate Frisbee after school Thursday. I might have ignored the swelling if it weren't for the fact he has one last swim meet next Friday. It's not broken. But I don't know if he'll be swimming next week.

So it's time to relish memories. A lot of family came to GA Tech for Friday night prelims.

Drew, Jess, Nate, Josh

Grandpa (on the phone), mom, Don, Aunt Rara

Aunt Deb and Sam.

Brothers.

Sam had three races during prelims: two relay events and the 100 breast.

He visited us in the stands shortly after the 200 yd medley relay. Back on antibiotics and wheezing a bit, he pulled off his best 50 yd free style time ever: 22.64 sec. He'd wanted to break the 23 sec barrier all season. To achieve it at state was amazing. And the team earned a spot at finals.

After a family celebration in the stands, Sam went back to his team and most of the family went in search of food. Two hours later, we were back to watch his second race.

The second race was good, but not fast enough to advance to finals. Thirty minutes later, we readied for the 100 breast.

I didn't know what to expect. Would he be tired after such a long day? Would he even keep the state time?

He dove into the water and looked strong. And stayed strong. And my excitement grew.

When he hit the wall and I looked at the clock, I saw: 1:05.76. Unbelievable. Truly unbelievable.

Sam swam the 100 breast in March 2011 in 1:06.90. That earned him a state cut for year round swimming. As the fall season cranked up, though, he struggled to come close to that time. He didn't break the 1:08.00 mark until he swam the year round state meet in early December. But even then, he swam it in just under 1:08.00. The week before state, I think he swam it in 1:09.00 or 1:10. 00.

To break the 1:06:00 mark and race his best time that night was simply a gift from God. I don't know why the break through occurred after months of struggle and asthma limitations. But I sure was thankful. And so was Sam.

He placed 38th in the state for the 100 breast. And the following night, at finals, his relay team placed 10th before being DQ'd because one swimmer jumped off .01 seconds too fast. Discrepancies in the officiating left us wondering if the call would be reversed. But it wasn't.  And that's OK.

I'm still thankful for 1:05.76.

Tornado in Tallahassee

By Greg Moore

Tornado sirens kept many awake last night. Rain fell. The sky lit up. Trees crashed to the ground. And today, an eerie calm rests heavy as neighboring communities begin their clean up.

It took me back in time...

My first husband, Jason, was diagnosed with a brain stem tumor when he was 18 years old. Radiation and prayer stopped growth for a miraculous amount of time. During that time, we met and enjoyed several years together before symptoms hinted it might return. After our wedding and the birth of our two sons, an MRI confirmed change and doctors gave him two to three years at most.

Medical options were limited. So we prayed. And prayed. And after a few months chose to see a doctor at Duke who suggested chemo. Jason chose the chemo regiment, knowing it might only extend his life a few years. So we kept praying. And praying. And in time his name ended up on different prayer lists around the country.

One day, she called. I don't remember her name or how we got on her list. But she called more than once to encourage us and after a few conversations, suggested we attend a healing conference in Tallahassee, FL.

As she described the event, I saw lighting, or fireworks, or perhaps just blackness lit up by bright lights. We didn't have a lot of money but since a clear vision like that was rare for me, we decided to attend and see if it had meaning.

While I can discuss and debate healing from several sides (especially in light of living with mito), I still appreciate the couple who led the conference. I don't follow their teaching these days. But at the time, their message encouraged us to build our faith by declaring the word of God over our lives. Instead of worrying about how I'd survive without Jason for two or three years, the God of the Bible came alive. Scripture breathed life on days I couldn't go on. Hope filled me when fear hovered near. God's love grew stronger than death. And I have "faith movement" messengers to thank, even if I don't hold to their entire doctrine on healing.

That said, we entered the Tallahassee Civic Center the last day of the four day conference, unsure about my vision. Worship began. Praise filled the arena. And then thunder shook the room.

I jabbed my husband, "That's my lighting!"

The music continued. Arms reached to the ceiling. And then the roar of a train came our way. It grew close, swerved away, then came back again... and a third (or more) of the roof flew off the building.

What amazes me still is that nobody screamed, cried out in fear or even moved from their seat. That group of believers stood together, arms raised, rebuking that tornado while declaring the goodness of God - and pulling out their umbrellas. The speaker continued with the service until building administrators insisted we evacuate the damaged area. Everyone filed calmly into a side cement room where a healing prayer line began.

I wish I could tell you Jason was healed that day. He wasn't. But the newspaper later reported that a powerful tornado, that left a path of damage through the city, stopped in its tracks above the civic center.

We lived through a tornado in Tallahassee and experienced first hand what happens when believers come together with a mighty roar of faith.

Oh people of God, let's do it again.