Wonder and worry and more wonder...

I have been running a marathon (pant pant wheeze pant)

A CI with CFIDS???  Running a marathon??? you say.

Yup.

I have been running the marathon of "give it to God, take it back."

Tho He slay me yet will I trust Him but what if no I will set my face like flint: I will trust You but what about....

Sound familiar?

It is sooooo very hard to stop taking it back.

And then...

We were both exhausted from rotten sleep (or none) and busy days (busy for me, anyway - and genuinely busy for my sil)  So we planned to go to the soup-and-salad place after running one last errand at Costco.

On a Friday night? you say (you're saying a lot tonight, aren't you?)

Yes, I thought of that as we were on our way to the place.  So I prayed out loud, "Father, please find us a place to park. Thank You!"

The last time I was there  a corner space was coming clear, and while I waited with blinker blinking for them to pull out, a fancy shmancy pick-up truck pulled right in ahead of me and flipped me off.

AAAARGH!!

All I can say is, It's a good thing vengeance is the LORD'S - cuz if it was mine, I'd be in prison already.

Anyway, we pulled in to the parking lot and right in front of us, a car began pulling out!!  THANK YOU FATHER!

And then I noticed:

it was the same corner space.

And there were other cars circling....

Give it to God, take it back, trust Him, take it back giveittoGod

I seem to see a pattern here....

So I sort of almost held my breath as we sat there with the blinker blinking - and then....

The car pulled out

-and sat there shielding the space so we could pull in.

Thanks again, Father...

And later I started thinking about it...

And my Papa set me on His knee:

"What's the difference between a parking space at a busy restaurant on a Friday night and provision for you in reduced circumstances?"

"Ummmm... I dunno, Papa..."

And deep in the quiet of my soul, He said,

"Not a thing."

Selah.

And a little note to my Sponsor

The email today from http://www.aholyexperience.com/ was about Joni Earickson Tada - I have always loved her writing and her ability to strip herself bare before the LORD and yet still have the courage to share it.  She said some things in this blog that resonated deep in my heart and had me in tears.

"Ken opened wide the front door so I could wheel out to the van.

For a long moment I sat squarely in the door frame, staring and taking it all in:

the shade tree dappling our brick path, blossoms bobbing on the crepe myrtle, and patches of sunlight on dewy grass.

It was the freshest of mornings. Oh God, I breathed, If only I could feel as fresh.

After more than four decades of quadriplegia, I’m tired."

Oh yes, LORD, me too.

After 25 years of battling with both CFIDS and FM, I'm tired.  Do I have to keep fighting??

This is the heart of the matter.

Am I required to keep trying to sustain a body that is so weary - sick of the pain, sick of being forgotten  or negated by AB people, sick of watching those I love flash expressions of impatience and distaste at my infirmities - especially when I have to ask for something to be repeated - again - because I don't understand (and my hearing is going, more each day)  My eyesight is also being attacked by the ravages of diabetes - visions of Helen Keller, anyone?  The evil one knows how to attack us at our most vulnerable spot. 

And does.

Often

So her word today struck chords of response in my heart.  I definitely lack the courage of God - the same courage He gave to David when facing Goliath or Saul, the courage to keep going after he'd been on the run for almost 10 years, running from Saul, living moment to moment depending on God.

Yup, I need that - especially when disability insurance folks think you no longer need any income at 65 years of age.  Instant destitute circumstances swallow you whole.  

"But..." 

Don't you just  love how the Bible throws one in now and again?  And it is always "But God..."

What is mine?

"But God, how do I live this way?  But God, wouldn't it be easier if I just won the lottery (that I'd have to PLAY the lottery to win the lottery is a minor point) ...easier  than this hardscrabble existence of penury (I tend to get melodramatic when I'm scared...)  But God, do I really really hafta do it this way?"

Of course His answer is yes.  He has a reason for every single thing He allows our lives From lions at the Coliseum to the sand in my shoe and the ache in my heart - each one is hand-crafted for what He wants to teach me.  And what is that?

What every single angel has said to every single person whenever one was sent by God -"Do not be afraid."  (I think they've figured out that we are prone to it.)

Because there is always fear behind the weariness.  Fear of what could happen.  Fear that I couldn't handle being sicker.  Fear that I may one day wind up in the same kind of wheelchair Joni is in.

Every plane trip, I've had to get to the plane and get to the car in a wheelchair.  And it makes me wonder how long it will be until I can no longer get out of one.

It's not that I'm suffering so terribly - compared to others, it's nothing.  But each grain of sand in my shoe makes it so much more uncomfortable.  It's not just the fatigue - it's the fatigue and the low grade fever and the lack of energy and the joint pain and the muscle pain and the night sweats and the headaches and the cabin fever and being stuck in bed and never having a break and one foot in front of the other for day after day after day after day after day... you get the idea (I warned you I was melodramatic!)

Blah blah blah standard pity party rhetoric.

Did I add that I'm embarrassed by my lack of strength?  

No.  I wouldn't.  Because I'm embarrassed.

So Ken's solution for Joni with a post-it note of C for Christ's Courage is particularly appealing.   A) it costs me nothing and B) I am struck silent by the fact that it cost Him everything - especially to make it available to me whenever I need it (and my heart is accessible enough and vulnerable enough to admit I need it.)

So here is my statement of being:

Jesus, my King, my Savior, my LORD, my everything, I need You.  More specifically, I need every bit of You: Your strength, Your courage, Your love, Your grace, and especially Your sense of trust and confidence in the Father with which to encourage and comfort others (and a celestial sense of humor to deal with the unattainableness I feel just looking at that list.) And I need it every second of every day. Please keep reminding me of that need. Period.
And I am so very very very grateful that you love me through all of my groaning and sighing and pull me up by my collar when I need it.  You really are a God of lovingkindness, hesed mercy.  Thank you for that mercy!

 Amen.

  

Discoveries

I have been getting blessed reading the Psalms and having Strong's Concordance at my fingertips.  Amazing how knowing the roots of words or multiple meanings of words can turn on a light in my heart.

Especially Psalm 139.

It was my mother's favorite Psalm.

v15 "I was made in secret and curiously wrought..."  curiously wrought means "embroidered in variegated colors."

What a glorious concept!

While God was in the process of creating you, individual you, He was hand-embroidering you with the colors He delighted in - your laugh was one color, your way of looking at things, the small wonders of His creation that delight your heart - all were individually chosen and placed just so, like the stars.  And - like the stars - He knows you by name, too.

v16 "Thine eyes did see my substance..."  As the tiniest of 2-celled embryos, God knew you.  He knew who you are, He knew what you would do with your life, every sin you would commit - and He loved you (the quintessential Proud Papa - that's Him!)

"...and in Thy book all were written..." ("members" is not in the original) In other words, I am a full person in God's eyes, all of my attributes are there, I am not just a clump of cells - and like my Father,  I am.  

"... which in continuance were fashioned..." - that is a potter's term meaning "to squeeze into shape."  The Potter was already fashioning my clay into a vessel and, yes, some days I can still feel the squeezing going on ! (incidentally, this is the same term used in Genesis when He formed Adam out of the ground - the only thing handmade of all creation, a hands-on creation by the King of the Universe - that's YOU!)

"...when as yet there were none of them." Before I was even conceived, He had thought of me, knew how He would shape me, what attributes He would give me, and had numbered every second of my life, every hair on my head.

v.17"How precious also are Thy thoughts unto me..." the word "precious" also means "costly" - Yes, my every breath, my every thought is precious to Him - but I also  cost Him His most precious possession, His only Son.  Knowing that more fully than words could ever express, He still chose for me to be created.  Before the foundation of the world He chose me - and was willing to pay the price for that  choice.

Grace, and grace alone.

I will probably never be able to completely comprehend what a privilege it is to be called by Him, to belong to Him, as long as I live on this earth.  In heaven, where I am promised the ability to know even as I am known; will I then understand the cost? It seems impossible to me -  no matter how long I meditate on the cost, I keep coming up with new aspects of the tally - His heart broken, His Son broken, His Son bled like the Passover lamb to "make Him kosher", to tolerate my sin, to equate each sin with the supreme agony of not just the cross, but every second lived confined to a human body - and that for eternity!!! To never again have the freedom of existing without boundaries, He will forever restrain Himself to exist within the parameters of His flesh.  So much, so very much He gave up.  When our Father tore the curtains in the Holy of Holies from the top down (tearing the clothes is a sign of deep mourning in the Jewish culture) He was revealing the broken Father heart that sacrificed everything He valued.  Everything! for me, for you.

Everything.

Grace alone.

Selah.

A word here or there....who knew?

Thngs have been difficult lately.

I am home from the hospital and my doctor is pleased with my progress, but also wants to change a few things.  And my wonderful CFIDS body is balking at the changes.

New medications play havoc with my body systems.  The pain keeps increasing and everything is flaring.  The blood thinner make something as simple as wearing rollers in my hair at night dangerous - I evidently laid on them wrong and have a huge tender bruise in the middle of the back of my head.  AARGH!

Everything seems to trigger more pain or discomfort - and changed regulations related to my pain medication make even procuring it difficult and a process taking days instead of simply dropping off an Rx and picking it up an hour later.  Oh no, too easy!

Poop!

And into this perfect storm of holy little me (NOT!) murmuring against  God came this little story, my version of it, courtesy of Zola Levitt ministries (zolalevitt.org):

A young woman home for vacation, complained to her mother about all the things gone wrong in her life - break ups with boyfriend, less than stellar grades, worn out tires, no money for gas etc etc.  

Her mother, meanwhile was making the daughter's favorite coffee cake, and stopped stirring for a second.  Then she said, "Do you want some of this cake?"

"Of course I do!!"

Mom handed her daughter a broken egg.  "There you go," she said, "Enjoy!"

The daughter looked suspiciously at her mom.  "What are you doing mom?:

"Nothing dear.  How about a good hefty teaspoon of Baking Soda?  Sound good?" she said with a grin.

"Mo-oooo-mmm!"  drawing out the one syllable as only kids can do.  "I get it. OK, what's the lesson?"

Smiling, she began to mix up the treat once more.  "This recipe is a lot like God's plan for our lives.  Some of the things that happen are unpalatable and make us want to spit it out.  We don't know what kind of recipe God is using - perhaps certain ingredients are difficult, the temperature seems too high, we feel like it's a pointless exercise and God has forgotten us.

"He hasn't.  

"When things seem to be out of kilter everywhere, God is changing the recipe and doing something in your life - and sometimes the necessary ingredients are distasteful or downright painful. The Lord and His Word are trustworthy.  His plan is not to make you happy.  His plan is to make you holy.  Always remember,  the ingredients that seem so distasteful as they occur will be worked together for good in your life, according to His will.

"Always."

------------

that little story came at a moment when my "recipe" was particularly distasteful - and several ingredients were choking me a bit on the way down.  It helped me to remember that I don't have a clue what recipe He is using - but I know my Maker, and I know I can trust Him.  Some day He will pull an amazing angel food cake (of course!) out of His celestial oven and it will be the most perfect choice of all the recipes in His book, chosen just for me.

On another note altogether, I found a free app on Amazon.com (just when I needed it - what a coincidence!) called "the touch bible".  The 99cent version has Strong's Concordance imbedded in it, and it has been blessing my sox clean off.  Instead of having to stop and go get the Strong's and look up the word, you just touch the word and - TA DAHHHHHH! - there it is!

I am reading the Psalms and would never have dreamt the difference a wee word means here or there.  When the Psalms say that God is my strong defense, I always thought of it as simply God's defense of me, a wall made of stone or some such.

Ohhhhhhhhhhhh noooo!  The Word means an impregnable fortress, like a strong craggy cliff with a fierce wind blowing and thunder echoing off the walls.

wow!

What a difference a word makes!  

So I highly recommend this app to you - from Amazon.com, for a mere 99 cents!!  And if you are so wealthy you have some extra change, for about 4 or 5 more bucks you can get the same app loaded for bear, with commentaries galore and all sorts of doodads.  AND the best part is you don't even need a Kindle to get it - they have a free app so you can just use your browser and you've got it.  You can highlight verses or words, make notes or copy them to a clipboard and save them.  It's really helping my study time - I read so fast that a lot of times I don't savor and soak it up - and now I go word by word and there is so much descriptive oomph to the words that I "see" the Psalm unfolding before my eyes.  I hope you take advantage of this:

It's Exciting Stuff!

The Strong's is opening a storehouse of wonder for me, giving me "hind's feet in high places." 

Want to come along?

We're Not Normal

this was shared on FB today - it is from Joni Earickson Tada.  It applies as much to CIs as it does to those in a w/c (wheelchair).  Others look at us and say, "someday you'll be normal" inferring our CI is something that makes us abnormal (although, I must admit, sometimes I certainly feel abnormal!)

Please read Joni's amazing words all the way to the end.  There you will find my comments on them.
--------------------------

You're Not Normal...

"But the Lord said to Samuel, 'Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The Lord does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.'" = 1 Samuel 16:7

When I speak, my message is often about how God has helped me grow leaps and bounds using my wheelchair. However, one time after I gave that message, a woman approached me and said, "Joni, don't worry. One day you'll be normal just like us." She missed the point.

I wasn't offended by the woman's comment so much as saddened that she was making the mistake described in 1 Samuel 16:7. She was looking on the outward appearance. She inferred that I envied her ability to stand. In her view, "normal" meant having a body that "worked," even if it was slightly overweight with a touch of arthritis.

We Christians need to shift our thinking and "...fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal" (2 Corinthians 4:18). God is concerned about unseen things like patience, sensitivity, faith, goodness, perseverance, and self-control. We are "normal" in God's eyes when we demonstrate endurance and long-suffering, when we keep looking to the unseen things. This is the normal Christian life. You can live it whether you're 5'2" standing or 4'3" sitting. You can live it whether you have varicose veins from walking or atrophied muscles from being paralyzed.

I will not be normal some day; I am normal right now. And so are you if you abide by 2 Corinthians 4:18, fixing your eyes on what's eternally important. Take a look in your heart to check whether it's "time" is correct.

Lord, so many of my thoughts are caught up in the here and now that I forget if I can see it, it's temporary. Enable me to fix my gaze on what's important, the eternal.

Blessings,
Joni and Friends
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CI makes us different, that is for sure, and many well-meaning folks either pity us or think we are soooo holy and brave (yeah, right!)  

We know differently.

Like His people Israel, God has chosen us to display His glory in our very leaky vessels.  And, also like His people Israel, sometimes we are inclined to say, "Why can't God choose someone else for awhile?"  

Actually, each one of us who has been chosen by God (CI or AB, makes no difference) is being conformed to the image of His Son.  His Son was a Carpenter.  He learned from His youth to sand and carve and cut wood into the shape He wanted - and our wooden hearts are in His Shop from now until the day we stand before Him - Live and In Person.

In my life, CI happens to be the chisel He is using to shape and form my heart into something pleasing to Him.

What is yours?

The Birds on the Wall

I have been struggling of late.

Each day has brought new infirmities, new vulnerabilities, new things to fight.  Medications that are supposed to restore and rejuvenate have done nothing more but add pain to pain, nausea to nausea, frustration on to frustration.

The headache never leaves.

Whereas before the new med, pain medication would knock it out for however short the freedom.  Now it knocks it down, but never out.

And I want it out.

But if you believe, as I do, that each day, each moment is ruled by my Loving Papa, there is a reason He is allowing this.

Perhaps He is showing Himself through my leaky human vessel - because there are definitely leaks going on!

I watch the birds outside my window - and I laugh.  Newly fledged babies, puffed up twice the parents' size, follow step-on-step, relentlessly begging, begging, begging.  They flutter wings and open beaks with such vigor, they sometimes fall from the wall.

The mother never tired, altho the babies would, happily, feed at the feeder if she was not in their immediate field of vision.  One day, as they munched away, they suddenly realized mama was on the perch above them, and flew straight up to try and fit on the same perch as she - knocking her off and falling into the bushes themselves.

Then yesterday I saw the trio, again on the wall.  Only this time when they began their poor me, forlorn, I-will-starve-to-death-if-you-don't-feed-me song and dance routine, she pecked at them and turned away.  When they pushed back and tried to get ever closer, she chest-bumped them and flew away, leaving them struggling for balance.

Then after she left, they just flew to the feeder and were fine.

Was that a lesson for me?

Am I like the babies, flutter flutter, open mouth "help me God - and step on it!"  Begging begging begging.

I am surely old enough in You to find the "feeder" all by myself.

Am I to "go to the feeder", the Word, and find help there?  Because all my poor me, forlorn, You-have-to-do-something fluttering is not doing much for me - not on the outside, not on the inside.

I have been spoiled by Your closeness to me, by Your provisions; and now that I am aching with each step I am fluttering with a deep hunger to find Your Hand to grab on to. I am a cranky child, throwing a tantrum and crying in the corner because You do not rescue me immediately with a chariot of fire. 

I have surely lost my balance on the wall of my life. Yet You have taught me over and over again that if You choose for darkness to fall all around me, I must keep my eyes open, because You have hidden treasures in the darkness. Your Word holds not only wisdom and beauty and comfort, but Your very Heart.

And it takes time for the eye to become accustomed to the darkness - but the night-vision will surely come. I just need to wait for it.

And just because I can't see something right now-at-this-moment doesn't mean it isn't there.

And all my frantic fluttering and panicked chirping has done for me is to keep me from seeing.

Because that Hand that I hungered so to hang on to?

It was here all along.

Forgive me, Papa.

I Can Only Imagine

I have been thinking lately of the things I love - the sweet, small, inconsequential things that touch the heart and ease the soul.

How awesome of God to give us memory.

20 years ago I began to save phone messages from those I love - and re-record them onto a mini-cassette (yes, I still have the player, and it works well!).  Most of the voices I saved are now parted from me and Home, but I can still hear their voices, calling with something of import that pales in comparison with the loss of their presence.  Some of them are birthday greetings, some wry comments on happenings, some just silly or "thinking of you" messages left long ago.

And it sets me to wondering if the first century Christians, who walked with Him and talked with Him on a daily basis for 3 years, would remember things : a certain sound triggering something, or a scent, or a song heard in passing - perhaps calling forth His face at a wedding, or the sound of His laughter.

When in prayer, did they hear and recognize His voice when He commissioned them?  Did they remember Him saying the laborers are few, and endeavor to increase their number?

And I wonder about Mary, who sat at His feet every chance she got.  Did she suddenly stop during her chores, transfixed by a memory of the sun falling, just so, across His features, or the look on His face when He spoke of the Father's love for His children, or the way His eyes roved lovingly over their faces the night before that Last Passover Day?

Did she remember a silly joke He told, or His favorite dish - and how proud Martha was when He would react with joy to her serving it?

Did her heart ever stop breaking when she thought of how He died?  For her.  For me. For all of us lost lambs, bleating on the edge of the cliff with fear and longing.

And when she thought about the joy and astonishment of His resurrection, did she burst into laughter at the wonder of it?  Did it pound in her heart, every day, every time someone mentioned His name?

Did her heart yearn so to see Him again?  Aching to hear His voice,
the sound of His laughter, the look in His eyes?

And when the moment finally came - when she really truly stood in His presence and saw Him for the first time in a very very long time, did she sink to His feet once more in a delirious joy to be, once again, with Him - as Time slipped away and the moment of reunion lasted forever?

Or did she fall face down in adoration of the One Who watched over her all her days and now revealed Himself to her in His full splendor and mercy and power?

I can only imagine.

And I wonder, when my time comes to meet Him face-to-face for the first time, what will I do?

I suspect I will fall face down, so full of gratitude and adoration and thanksgiving that my mouth will be sealed shut - and then I realize it won't matter.  He has known my heart for 40 years, and I doubt if either of us will need an interpreter. That Voice that has guided me down here will sound in all of its majestic fullness and glory, and all those recorded voices will be sounding sweetly in my ears and I will, finally and for all Time, be Home.

I can only imagine.