I've been offline off and on lately, sort of trying to get better and instead getting worse. So I haven't posted on this blog for a looong time. My apologies.
It's a funny animal, this chronic pain stuff. Sometimes it makes me withdrawn, and other times it makes me seek out books of folks who have walked this road - with discouraging or encouraging results, the primary requirement is that they have walked it with Him.
One woman I've been reading just recently lost her battle with breast cancer. The breast is where it started. She celebrated after she finished her first round of chemo and radiation, bilateral breast removal and reconstruction, followed by a total hysterectomy - only to find another tumor in her bones, then her brain. Round after round of pain and vomiting and pills and IVs and radiation, MRIs and chem panels, endlessly. At diagnosis, her youngest was a 3 yr old little girl. Her oldest a 13 year old.. And in between them, a boy and another girl. She lost her battle in March. Her hubby, a pastor named Jason, after 17 years of marriage is on his own, with four children and a church to care for. Please, if you are reading this, please pray for him.
When I got the news, it gutted me.
Through it all, she had a radiant faith.
Absolutely radiant.
Not to say she didn't have tough times. But her peace shone through it all.
And I sit here with my hangnail (in comparison) whining and wailing because I hurt a little.
Another couple, friends of mine, after 20+ years married, were just diagnosed with lymphoma in the hubby's brain.
Thru their entire walk together, they have dealt constantly with his type 1 diabetes, insulin dependent, that destroyed his kidneys. When the time came for a transplant, the wife discovered she was a perfect match, and instantly gave him one of hers, all the while raising their daughter and praising the Lord. He started having a loss of energy a year ago, he finally had to stop working. Then he began to lose his balance once in awhile. Then he began to have headaches. Then his short term memory got funky. An MRI of the brain showed several tumors. A brain biopsy, itself a dangerous measure, revealed the lymphoma, which has a notoriously bad prognosis. They immediately began scheduling radiation therapy.
When told of the diagnosis, Phil said, "Whether He gives me 5 more minutes or 50 years, I stand on the Rock. My life is in His hands."
They've had a lot of rough roads to follow throughout their marriage - this is nothing new to them. And their reaction is the same it has always been: to live in a way that glorifies God.
Seems like so very much loss lately. My heart aches for the pain they are enduring - at the same time I am in awe of the way their lives of faith glorify Him. And for sure it has driven me closer to the Rock they live upon. I so very much want to glorify Him the same way - and I see my failures in such glaring red letters - capitals all, that seem so obvious and avoidable.
Another recent loss was the author and missionary Elisabeth Elliot - a woman I have looked up to since I met the Rock for myself. I think I have read almost every one of her many many books. When faced with the loss of her husband in the middle of an Ecuadorian jungle, killed by cannibals he had come to befriend, she, too, stood on the Rock - with a 14 month old little girl in the midst of an alien land. She survived on the verse "underneath are the everlasting arms" and handled her responsibilities with the motto "do the next thing". And so she did. When she died at 87 she had outlived 2 husbands (her second husband died of cancer 5 years after they were married) and was suffering from Alzheimer's at her death. When she was diagnosed, she said, characteristically, "underneath are the Everlasting arms" and walked through her days doing the next thing. She never lost the wealth of Scripture she had memorized since childhood, or the old Scriptural hymns that have been replaced by "modern worship" songs. The old hymns taught doctrine to people that couldn't read, but could understand from the hymns what a life in Christ meant.
One of her heroines in the walk with the Rock was Amy Carmichael.
So, of course, her books are also part of my library. Another woman who lived as a missionary - in India for over 50 years, her main focus came to be saving the little girls who were sold to the temples to as sexual slaves of the multiple gods that are worshiped. Eventually her mission began to include the little boys as well. When faced with difficulties, Amy said, "See in it a chance to die."
And there is the heart of every difficulty we face on this earth: death to self.
Amy had an accident that left her in pain and mostly bed-ridden for the last 20+ years of her life - tho it was no accident to the One Who allowed it. The work she began is flourishing still, in India, mostly staffed by the women who were once little girls that were saved and placed in the arms of Jesus. She was beloved of the girls she saved, because they knew her love for them was an overflow of the One she stood on - this same Rock that connects all my heroines to one another. Her poetry, like that of Annie Johnson Flint - another chronic pain sufferer whose "little book of poems" have survived the years to still be nourishing to my soul and glorifying the same Rock.
So I trudge on. I am trying now to "do the next thing" and trusting Him to take care of the rest. He has kept me for 26 years of illness (and counting) and has never failed me, tho I have so very often failed Him.
My consolation is knowing that when He plucked me out of my black and white life to give me one of living color, He already knew about my future failures, and yet He still chose me. He's had to do all the giving, because there is certainly nothing of value I can give Him - except that which He values the most : my battered, stained, unreliable heart.
And my feet, standing, on that same Rock - the Rock of Ages.
There's plenty of room up here.
And He will welcome you, too, and help you to stand here, all with open Arms.
The Everlasting ones.
Monday, July 13, 2015
Saturday, May 30, 2015
Trusting in the Dark...or not....
How hard it is to trust in the dark!
Sometimes it seems like I'm finally getting the hang of this "trust" stuff..
And then....
When one of the nephews/nieces/family/friends has something going on in their lives that is harmful or hurtful, I pound on heaven's door, pleading continuously for God's will to be my will, when it should be the other way round
And that's the plain, unvarnished truth.
When it comes to them, it is so hard to put them where they belong: in His hands.
And then let go.
The "putting" is the easy part.
The "letting go," not so much.
I want them to be ok. I want the crisis to be over with. I want them whole and happy and blessed.
And to pray "As You will" doesn't enter my head, let alone my heart.
I know that's not where He wants me, or how He wants me to pray.
Recently another crisis popped up.
I was beside myself with worry.
I felt beaten, like someone had punched me in the gut. Hundreds of miles away and helpless - that's how I felt. I contacted every prayer chain and every pray-er that I knew and stormed heaven's gates.
And God, in His mercy and power, stepped in.
But I find myself wondering:
What if He hadn't?
I knew at the time that it was a possibility. My education was in this specific area and each report gave mounting stress and fear to my heart. I knew too many ways for things to go wrong, and I should have intervened.
I didn't.
As the news grew more and more grim, I didn't want to push them to a decision they were reluctant to make. I don't know what I would have done if He had chosen other than what my heart was pleading for. I feel guilty enough now - I can't imagine how I will feel if something worse happens because of my reluctance - which is still a possibility.
So I pray.
And strain with every ounce that's in me to trust.
I have a plaque which says, "Faith means going to the edge of all you know - and taking one more step."
It is walking forward in the dark, knowing that the edge of the cliff is in front of me - and being willing to step off that cliff, trusting that He will catch me,,,
Or give me wings.
And being willing to do it.
I find I'm not there yet. Every time I think I am, He shows me how far I have to go.
But this I know, with every cell in my body, I am His. He holds me in His hands in the dark as well as the light.
And though I still stumble around in the dark, and bump into walls and fall and bruise a knee here and there, He will never ever let me fall into the abyss.
For underneath are the Everlasting Arms.
His.
Sometimes it seems like I'm finally getting the hang of this "trust" stuff..
And then....
When one of the nephews/nieces/family/friends has something going on in their lives that is harmful or hurtful, I pound on heaven's door, pleading continuously for God's will to be my will, when it should be the other way round
And that's the plain, unvarnished truth.
When it comes to them, it is so hard to put them where they belong: in His hands.
And then let go.
The "putting" is the easy part.
The "letting go," not so much.
I want them to be ok. I want the crisis to be over with. I want them whole and happy and blessed.
And to pray "As You will" doesn't enter my head, let alone my heart.
I know that's not where He wants me, or how He wants me to pray.
Recently another crisis popped up.
I was beside myself with worry.
I felt beaten, like someone had punched me in the gut. Hundreds of miles away and helpless - that's how I felt. I contacted every prayer chain and every pray-er that I knew and stormed heaven's gates.
And God, in His mercy and power, stepped in.
But I find myself wondering:
What if He hadn't?
I knew at the time that it was a possibility. My education was in this specific area and each report gave mounting stress and fear to my heart. I knew too many ways for things to go wrong, and I should have intervened.
I didn't.
As the news grew more and more grim, I didn't want to push them to a decision they were reluctant to make. I don't know what I would have done if He had chosen other than what my heart was pleading for. I feel guilty enough now - I can't imagine how I will feel if something worse happens because of my reluctance - which is still a possibility.
So I pray.
And strain with every ounce that's in me to trust.
I have a plaque which says, "Faith means going to the edge of all you know - and taking one more step."
It is walking forward in the dark, knowing that the edge of the cliff is in front of me - and being willing to step off that cliff, trusting that He will catch me,,,
Or give me wings.
And being willing to do it.
I find I'm not there yet. Every time I think I am, He shows me how far I have to go.
But this I know, with every cell in my body, I am His. He holds me in His hands in the dark as well as the light.
And though I still stumble around in the dark, and bump into walls and fall and bruise a knee here and there, He will never ever let me fall into the abyss.
For underneath are the Everlasting Arms.
His.
Friday, May 29, 2015
Remembering the fallen...
I have been thinking of Audie Murphy all day. Someone shared the memory of this valiant man who received every medal the US has to offer including the Medal of Honor, plus medals from France and Belgium - and he was only 20 at the time - and he has been here, in my heart, all day.
I say again to every serviceman who has ever served: thank you.
I've learned that many servicemen resent this, who think it is a non-military's way to unload guilt.
Not from me.
I say thank you for every sleepless night you have spent remembering, wanting more than anything to forget. For the nightmares, for the screaming fits, for the black depressions.
I say thank you for leaving a safe bed and the love of family and risking it all.
For me.
I say thank you to and for every buddy you saw die that you wanted to save.
I say thank you to every medic who served in a hot zone, a cool zone, a hospital ship, and remembers every GI your hands touched, who worked thru 36 hour and more shifts uncomplainingly, asleep on your feet with broken hearts, who still see faces and hear voices when they remember.
I say thank you to each heart that breaks when a car drives up to an anxious home and two men in full dress uniform step out.
I say thank you to each child that cries himself to sleep, crying for a daddy or mommy they will never see again this side of heaven.
I say thank you for the respectful hands who fire the 21 gun salutes and fold the flags with precision, respect, and sympathy. For the men who guard, thru summer heat and winter snow and driving rain, the tomb of some of the unknown who returned to the American soil they died for.
I don't say it lightly. I treasure one such flag.
So...
Sir, or Ma'am, I thank you for your service. I pray the Lord will bless you with a warm home and a heart that never forgets, but has been able to let the memories have their way and be gone, visiting less and less often.
We tell those who have left us to "rest in peace." The living deserve no less. Remember those who were lost. Then honor them by living long and happily for them as well as yourself.
And if you can't banish the voices and the faces and the sounds and the smells, you are not weak.
It is recognized now as PTSD and there is treatment for it. Please find some. There is no reason for your family to lose you, too. Audie Murphy never knew what he had was treatable. He tried to silence the voices and faces and sounds and smells and began to be disrespected towards the end of his short life. This to a man who fought off 250 of the enemy alone, atop a burning enemy tank loaded with explosives that could blow up any second - and he was seriously wounded at the time! Sad to say, but true: People forget. I give you my solemn promise, I will never forget as God lets me draw breath.
His wife and family were Christians - and, sadly, up until that last plane ride that crashed, he resisted opening his heart to God. His wife asked the old preacher Vernon McGee to preach a salvation message at his funeral - he said a lot of Hollywood was there, and it seemed every eye was steely and defiant and full of hatred as he preached. I hope he was wrong. I hope that souls were pierced and hearts broke open. And I pray that as the plane began it's fatal dive, Audie cried out to the God Who held him as he went to hell and back the first time, and kept him from going back to hell again.
And for anyone out there who is idiot enough to think it can't be that bad, get a copy of Audie Murphy's combat memories or watch the movie, "To Hell and Back" both of the same title - easily available on Amazon, even for Kindle. It will open your eyes and make the next time you thank a serviceman or vet come from the bottom of your safe little heart.If you would like a more in-depth telling, warts and all, of his struggles for the rest of his life, I highly recommend the book, "The Price of Valor", a well-researched and informative book, from his childhood on. To Hell and Back was written not as an autobiography, but as a way to remember his buddies that died - to the end of his days he said that the dead were the ones who deserved the medals, not him.
And so, I say again, I thank you for your service, from the bottom of my heart and tears streaming down my face. And if that offends you, I'm not sorry.
Because I will never stop saying it.
I say again to every serviceman who has ever served: thank you.
I've learned that many servicemen resent this, who think it is a non-military's way to unload guilt.
Not from me.
I say thank you for every sleepless night you have spent remembering, wanting more than anything to forget. For the nightmares, for the screaming fits, for the black depressions.
I say thank you for leaving a safe bed and the love of family and risking it all.
For me.
I say thank you to and for every buddy you saw die that you wanted to save.
I say thank you to every medic who served in a hot zone, a cool zone, a hospital ship, and remembers every GI your hands touched, who worked thru 36 hour and more shifts uncomplainingly, asleep on your feet with broken hearts, who still see faces and hear voices when they remember.
I say thank you to each heart that breaks when a car drives up to an anxious home and two men in full dress uniform step out.
I say thank you to each child that cries himself to sleep, crying for a daddy or mommy they will never see again this side of heaven.
I say thank you for the respectful hands who fire the 21 gun salutes and fold the flags with precision, respect, and sympathy. For the men who guard, thru summer heat and winter snow and driving rain, the tomb of some of the unknown who returned to the American soil they died for.
I don't say it lightly. I treasure one such flag.
So...
Sir, or Ma'am, I thank you for your service. I pray the Lord will bless you with a warm home and a heart that never forgets, but has been able to let the memories have their way and be gone, visiting less and less often.
We tell those who have left us to "rest in peace." The living deserve no less. Remember those who were lost. Then honor them by living long and happily for them as well as yourself.
And if you can't banish the voices and the faces and the sounds and the smells, you are not weak.
It is recognized now as PTSD and there is treatment for it. Please find some. There is no reason for your family to lose you, too. Audie Murphy never knew what he had was treatable. He tried to silence the voices and faces and sounds and smells and began to be disrespected towards the end of his short life. This to a man who fought off 250 of the enemy alone, atop a burning enemy tank loaded with explosives that could blow up any second - and he was seriously wounded at the time! Sad to say, but true: People forget. I give you my solemn promise, I will never forget as God lets me draw breath.
His wife and family were Christians - and, sadly, up until that last plane ride that crashed, he resisted opening his heart to God. His wife asked the old preacher Vernon McGee to preach a salvation message at his funeral - he said a lot of Hollywood was there, and it seemed every eye was steely and defiant and full of hatred as he preached. I hope he was wrong. I hope that souls were pierced and hearts broke open. And I pray that as the plane began it's fatal dive, Audie cried out to the God Who held him as he went to hell and back the first time, and kept him from going back to hell again.
And for anyone out there who is idiot enough to think it can't be that bad, get a copy of Audie Murphy's combat memories or watch the movie, "To Hell and Back" both of the same title - easily available on Amazon, even for Kindle. It will open your eyes and make the next time you thank a serviceman or vet come from the bottom of your safe little heart.If you would like a more in-depth telling, warts and all, of his struggles for the rest of his life, I highly recommend the book, "The Price of Valor", a well-researched and informative book, from his childhood on. To Hell and Back was written not as an autobiography, but as a way to remember his buddies that died - to the end of his days he said that the dead were the ones who deserved the medals, not him.
And so, I say again, I thank you for your service, from the bottom of my heart and tears streaming down my face. And if that offends you, I'm not sorry.
Because I will never stop saying it.
Tuesday, May 26, 2015
As I Was Saying...
What a shock! To discover I haven't been here in almost 2 months.
I was stunned.
I knew it had been some time - as the body grows older, so do the opportunities for something to go wrong or be off kilter. Mine has been kiltering along, off key, for the last 2 months. Bronchitis used to be quickly treatable and then booted out of my body's kilter.
No longer.
This time, the bronchitis has been playing "Catch me if you can" and my doc has a catcher's mitt that has been growing larger and larger, to contain all the remedies we've tried. Meanwhile the cough had banished sleep and increased pain and wavered on pneumonia...then it seemed to be on the downturn, only to abruptly about face towards pneumonia, threatening, threatening...
This last antibiotic was the strongest one yet. After 4 days the cough has diminished in frequency and moistness and I've actually been sleeping - a lot.
And then, as all good things must come to an end, I hit a wall. Again.
The drug was so strong my body can't tolerate it, which, as many may know, makes for a weakened response in the body and gives bacteria enough time to figure out how to become antibiotic resistant. But my doc and I decided enough was enough.
The side effects had become terrific. I kept wondering why I had suddenly started experiencing very nasty new troubles. I tried to figure out what I had done/not done and when they had started and, wouldn't you know it, they all started when I started this new drug.
So, I'm back to square one. I'm hoping my imagination is the reason my cough sounds juicier again. It's still not as bad, I'm able to breathe between coughs and coughing spells that seemed to be without end are completely gone.
So far.
And it brought to mind again, the realization that at any moment I can be called into the presence of God - live and in Person - at any moment.
Actually, I look forward to that moment. For me, it will be the best Homecoming ever - I know my God, Who He is, How He operates, and He can be trusted. He is the One Who holds my every breath, and knows - to the last one - when it will occur. I am at peace about that. If you are not, please keep reading, and I will tell you how to meet Him - and how I did.. He is the gentlest of all the gentlemen in the world or out of it, and He cherishes you, even now, even before you choose Him. He has a wonderful plan for your life.
So you look at mine, and what is so wonderful?
All of it.
Yes, I've been in some sort of pain for most of it. I've had narrow escapes. I became too sick to work at my chosen profession, which I loved. From the outside looking in, I can understand the question marks in your eyes.
Doesn't look too full of adventure or happiness or excitement, does it?
Ahhh - but looks, as the proverb goes, are deceiving.
I was living a mundane life, get up, go to work, spend my time listening to music, hanging out, smoking dope. An average life for the 60's and 70's.
But in the late 60's I had almost bled to death.
Exciting, no? (Grin)
I had blood going in both arms, an oxygen mask, and lying on the stretcher, every time I moved, blood and clots fell off of it onto the floor.
Listening to the blood pressure results being called out I realized that if something didn't happen pretty dang quickly, I would be facing a just and holy God with not a single excuse to keep me out of a very painful and terrifying place.
When shock sets in, the mind becomes very calm, and your thinking seems to clear out the garbage and you are left with a totaling of the marks for and against you in the sight of God, whom you will shortly be face to face with.
So, I 'fessed up.
I spoke to Him and said that I realized I had nothing of worth to offer Him. It didn't seem like I could do anything, granted my condition, that would change that fact, and I told Him that I gave myself to Him, just the way I was, and hoped that was enough.
No, there was no light highlighting the person next to me, no confession that s/he was actually an angel, just a hurried consent to sign and a rush to the operating room.
I believe God accepted my paltry offering.
When I got thru all the mess and complications, I sort of forgot all that and went back to my totally secular existence and relegated God to storybook level, a fuzzy, friendly God with a white beard and grandfatherly heart.
Oh, I talked about Him a lot - with my friends, while high on marijuana, concocting theories galore - one friend came up with a computer in the sky, and it controlled everything you did, yada yada yada. All very intellectual.
One of my other friends said that kind of talk scared him, he didn't want any part of it.
And then a best bud was sent overseas and with nothing to do on the ship, fell in with a bunch of Bible thumpers and was drawn to a loving God that paid his way into heaven, and suddenly, life became complicated.
A complication I wanted no part of.
So, one evening, I sat down to write a letter, and intended it to be the last one.
Ever.
Meanwhile, my lifetime best bud's brother called. His wife, it seems, had a desperate desire to learn guitar, and could they come over and maybe borrow one of mine and learn the rudiments?
Of course!
Unknown to me, they had recently had the same sort of experience my overseas friend had had.
What a coincidence!!
If you are considering investigating this Christian thing, you will suddenly experience the same kind of coincidences.
You will suddenly be surrounded by Christians,
Everywhere.
At school. At work. The neighbor next door. At the supermarket you will run into old friends who want to tell you this exciting thing that happened to them.
You will NOT believe it. They will be everywhere. And you will fight it with every ounce of rebellion in you. You will pull out every dusty ol' excuse you have ever heard and none of it will be because you honestly researched it.
It will be because there is an evil presence in this world that wants people to believe he doesn't exist and he is the one reigning in your heart, and he doesn't want to give you up. And, so far, you're not unhappy with his reigning - yet- so you don't want anyone making you feel guilty or - how dare you! - a sinner, so you close your ears and cross your arms and shake your head no, no,no.
And the coincidences keep coming.
And on this night, it took the shape of the brother and his wife.
They arrived and we started talking about how it had been too long, we needed to get together more often, standard stuff and I got the guitars out and they saw the letter writing stuff on the table and asked if they'd interrupted something.
I said no, and, of course, explained how my friend had been sucked into this cult thing and it was about Jesus and how fanatical he'd become, brainwashed, and I'd had enough. He had sent me a tape (in those days there were no iPhones or cellphones or instant anything. It was write or make a cassette tape, period.)
So they said, naturally, that it was too bad, and, as a matter of fact, they had recently become Christians, although they were not fanatics or anything.
So, of course, I pulled out the cassette player and said, "Listen to this stuff! I'm a Christian, but this is waaay out of my range!"
And as the words left my mouth, the God Who had accepted my bargaining ploy 15 years earlier said, "Gotcha!" And took me up on it.
He blasted me with the Holy Spirit, and it felt like my life had gone from black and white to Color, with a capital "C".
And everything on the tape made perfect sense.
Every. Single. Word.
I couldn't believe it. I was stunned.
Deep in my heart, I knew I was forever changed. Every Bible verse I'd ever read made sense.
I fell in love at that moment.
Completely, head-over-heels, eternal love with the One Who had created me to know Him, because He had loved me when I wasn't even a twinkle in my daddy's eye.
I knew I was a sinner already. (and so do you, even though you don't want to admit it.) - and when they left, I knelt on the hard wooden floor and gave myself to Him again, lock stock and barrel, and thanked Him for saying yes to me.
Then I finished the letter, praising God and quoting Scriptures I had learned as a child and told my friend I too was a Christian. Later I was told that, overseas mail being what it is, he got the letter a few weeks later and had spent the previous night in prayer for my soul. His friend told me he came running down a hallway with tears streaming down his face. He couldn't believe God answered his prayers so miraculously.
Jesus has perfect timing.
People remark that it's all coincidences. But, you know what? Those coincidences only happen when I pray. And they fit, down to the last detail, what I prayed for.
And no, I'm not saying that God gives me everything I pray for. He doesn't. Jesus knows what is His best, and Jesus gives me what fits His plans for me. And He's always teaching me. I learn so much at His feet!
And for me, the best instrument for teaching happens to be pain, in the form of a chronic illness which is painful. I learn from the Teacher Who knows first hand what pain does to a Person, inside and outside. And how He lets darkness surround me sometimes - so I learn that even in the dark, His hand is there for me to grab. Jesus knows exactly what is right for me, and reveals His love through all of it.
Yeah, I know, I sound like a fanatic. Same ol', same ol'.
But it has been a true adventure. Jesus has held me through some of the most painful moments of my life. When He burst into my life, I asked Him to take me into the depths with Him. (Unfortunately, I didn't say "through the depths") I didn't want to be superficial. I wanted to know He is real and know He is truly there, every second of every day.
And one day, I read the life's story of Solomon, the wisest man to ever live. God told him one night to ask for whatever he wanted - anything. And being God, He could make that offer.
Solomon asked for wisdom. The essence of what he asked for was actually a "hearing heart" - so he could hear the hearts of the people placed under his rule. He wanted to follow his father's path (David, an man after God's own heart).
And then I read the line, "and it pleased God" - so I, in my hunger to please Him with my life, asked Him for the same thing.
I had no idea that the only way to hear some one's heart is to have gone through the same things. So I began to walk the path of sorrow and pain, to learn how to hear, and He brought me people who needed someone with a hearing heart so very much. He taught me how to listen, and guides the words I say, and blesses them to others. He uses the words that come out of my mouth to teach me as He lovingly reaches out to that hurting person. It's an amazing thing to walk with the Living God.
I highly recommend it.
If you've read this far, you may be wanting to know how to do this. You don't have to go to a church to reach Him. I do recommend that you kneel before Him, as He is the King of the Universe and there is no one else, no Being as powerful in all the Universe. Think on that for a moment, then bow your head before Him. Tell Jesus you know you've sinned. You know He is holy and you aren't. And You know He became a Man and died on a cross in exchange for your soul - He bought you. Every ounce of His suffering on that cross was for you. He in reality died rather than live without you And you are asking Jesus to come in and take possession of your heart and all you are. Thank Him for His Holy Spirit and for answering His prayer and coming in.
What will happen?
Maybe nothing. Maybe an explosion of joy inside you. Maybe you will feel like everything is new and in living color. For others, it comes on gradually.
I highly recommend you get a Bible and read it. Daily. If you're a Shakespeare buff, get the New King James version, it is in Olde English. Otherwise, get the New International Version, just ask for the NIV.
These both are interpretations by scholars who tried very very hard to present what the verses actually mean. Some of the "New" translations that say they are simply easier to understand, are not sticklers for interpretation. They paraphrase and add subtle bits of New Age thinking that turn your heart in those subtle ways to think of a New Age God, not the Living God. Find a church that teaches verse-by-verse through the Bible - the Calvary Chapel Churches are good at this, to find one near you go to Calvarychapel.org. Wherever you are in the world, there is probably one near you - and meet with other Christians (yes, you are now "one of them") and learn the joy of fellowship as well as friendship. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to leave them - click on the comment option, below (hold your mouse over the icons below and it will reveal a comment option.)
And welcome to the family of God! Adventure awaits you!
I was stunned.
I knew it had been some time - as the body grows older, so do the opportunities for something to go wrong or be off kilter. Mine has been kiltering along, off key, for the last 2 months. Bronchitis used to be quickly treatable and then booted out of my body's kilter.
No longer.
This time, the bronchitis has been playing "Catch me if you can" and my doc has a catcher's mitt that has been growing larger and larger, to contain all the remedies we've tried. Meanwhile the cough had banished sleep and increased pain and wavered on pneumonia...then it seemed to be on the downturn, only to abruptly about face towards pneumonia, threatening, threatening...
This last antibiotic was the strongest one yet. After 4 days the cough has diminished in frequency and moistness and I've actually been sleeping - a lot.
And then, as all good things must come to an end, I hit a wall. Again.
The drug was so strong my body can't tolerate it, which, as many may know, makes for a weakened response in the body and gives bacteria enough time to figure out how to become antibiotic resistant. But my doc and I decided enough was enough.
The side effects had become terrific. I kept wondering why I had suddenly started experiencing very nasty new troubles. I tried to figure out what I had done/not done and when they had started and, wouldn't you know it, they all started when I started this new drug.
So, I'm back to square one. I'm hoping my imagination is the reason my cough sounds juicier again. It's still not as bad, I'm able to breathe between coughs and coughing spells that seemed to be without end are completely gone.
So far.
And it brought to mind again, the realization that at any moment I can be called into the presence of God - live and in Person - at any moment.
Actually, I look forward to that moment. For me, it will be the best Homecoming ever - I know my God, Who He is, How He operates, and He can be trusted. He is the One Who holds my every breath, and knows - to the last one - when it will occur. I am at peace about that. If you are not, please keep reading, and I will tell you how to meet Him - and how I did.. He is the gentlest of all the gentlemen in the world or out of it, and He cherishes you, even now, even before you choose Him. He has a wonderful plan for your life.
So you look at mine, and what is so wonderful?
All of it.
Yes, I've been in some sort of pain for most of it. I've had narrow escapes. I became too sick to work at my chosen profession, which I loved. From the outside looking in, I can understand the question marks in your eyes.
Doesn't look too full of adventure or happiness or excitement, does it?
Ahhh - but looks, as the proverb goes, are deceiving.
I was living a mundane life, get up, go to work, spend my time listening to music, hanging out, smoking dope. An average life for the 60's and 70's.
But in the late 60's I had almost bled to death.
Exciting, no? (Grin)
I had blood going in both arms, an oxygen mask, and lying on the stretcher, every time I moved, blood and clots fell off of it onto the floor.
Listening to the blood pressure results being called out I realized that if something didn't happen pretty dang quickly, I would be facing a just and holy God with not a single excuse to keep me out of a very painful and terrifying place.
When shock sets in, the mind becomes very calm, and your thinking seems to clear out the garbage and you are left with a totaling of the marks for and against you in the sight of God, whom you will shortly be face to face with.
So, I 'fessed up.
I spoke to Him and said that I realized I had nothing of worth to offer Him. It didn't seem like I could do anything, granted my condition, that would change that fact, and I told Him that I gave myself to Him, just the way I was, and hoped that was enough.
No, there was no light highlighting the person next to me, no confession that s/he was actually an angel, just a hurried consent to sign and a rush to the operating room.
I believe God accepted my paltry offering.
When I got thru all the mess and complications, I sort of forgot all that and went back to my totally secular existence and relegated God to storybook level, a fuzzy, friendly God with a white beard and grandfatherly heart.
Oh, I talked about Him a lot - with my friends, while high on marijuana, concocting theories galore - one friend came up with a computer in the sky, and it controlled everything you did, yada yada yada. All very intellectual.
One of my other friends said that kind of talk scared him, he didn't want any part of it.
And then a best bud was sent overseas and with nothing to do on the ship, fell in with a bunch of Bible thumpers and was drawn to a loving God that paid his way into heaven, and suddenly, life became complicated.
A complication I wanted no part of.
So, one evening, I sat down to write a letter, and intended it to be the last one.
Ever.
Meanwhile, my lifetime best bud's brother called. His wife, it seems, had a desperate desire to learn guitar, and could they come over and maybe borrow one of mine and learn the rudiments?
Of course!
Unknown to me, they had recently had the same sort of experience my overseas friend had had.
What a coincidence!!
If you are considering investigating this Christian thing, you will suddenly experience the same kind of coincidences.
You will suddenly be surrounded by Christians,
Everywhere.
At school. At work. The neighbor next door. At the supermarket you will run into old friends who want to tell you this exciting thing that happened to them.
You will NOT believe it. They will be everywhere. And you will fight it with every ounce of rebellion in you. You will pull out every dusty ol' excuse you have ever heard and none of it will be because you honestly researched it.
It will be because there is an evil presence in this world that wants people to believe he doesn't exist and he is the one reigning in your heart, and he doesn't want to give you up. And, so far, you're not unhappy with his reigning - yet- so you don't want anyone making you feel guilty or - how dare you! - a sinner, so you close your ears and cross your arms and shake your head no, no,no.
And the coincidences keep coming.
And on this night, it took the shape of the brother and his wife.
They arrived and we started talking about how it had been too long, we needed to get together more often, standard stuff and I got the guitars out and they saw the letter writing stuff on the table and asked if they'd interrupted something.
I said no, and, of course, explained how my friend had been sucked into this cult thing and it was about Jesus and how fanatical he'd become, brainwashed, and I'd had enough. He had sent me a tape (in those days there were no iPhones or cellphones or instant anything. It was write or make a cassette tape, period.)
So they said, naturally, that it was too bad, and, as a matter of fact, they had recently become Christians, although they were not fanatics or anything.
So, of course, I pulled out the cassette player and said, "Listen to this stuff! I'm a Christian, but this is waaay out of my range!"
And as the words left my mouth, the God Who had accepted my bargaining ploy 15 years earlier said, "Gotcha!" And took me up on it.
He blasted me with the Holy Spirit, and it felt like my life had gone from black and white to Color, with a capital "C".
And everything on the tape made perfect sense.
Every. Single. Word.
I couldn't believe it. I was stunned.
Deep in my heart, I knew I was forever changed. Every Bible verse I'd ever read made sense.
I fell in love at that moment.
Completely, head-over-heels, eternal love with the One Who had created me to know Him, because He had loved me when I wasn't even a twinkle in my daddy's eye.
I knew I was a sinner already. (and so do you, even though you don't want to admit it.) - and when they left, I knelt on the hard wooden floor and gave myself to Him again, lock stock and barrel, and thanked Him for saying yes to me.
Then I finished the letter, praising God and quoting Scriptures I had learned as a child and told my friend I too was a Christian. Later I was told that, overseas mail being what it is, he got the letter a few weeks later and had spent the previous night in prayer for my soul. His friend told me he came running down a hallway with tears streaming down his face. He couldn't believe God answered his prayers so miraculously.
Jesus has perfect timing.
People remark that it's all coincidences. But, you know what? Those coincidences only happen when I pray. And they fit, down to the last detail, what I prayed for.
And no, I'm not saying that God gives me everything I pray for. He doesn't. Jesus knows what is His best, and Jesus gives me what fits His plans for me. And He's always teaching me. I learn so much at His feet!
And for me, the best instrument for teaching happens to be pain, in the form of a chronic illness which is painful. I learn from the Teacher Who knows first hand what pain does to a Person, inside and outside. And how He lets darkness surround me sometimes - so I learn that even in the dark, His hand is there for me to grab. Jesus knows exactly what is right for me, and reveals His love through all of it.
Yeah, I know, I sound like a fanatic. Same ol', same ol'.
But it has been a true adventure. Jesus has held me through some of the most painful moments of my life. When He burst into my life, I asked Him to take me into the depths with Him. (Unfortunately, I didn't say "through the depths") I didn't want to be superficial. I wanted to know He is real and know He is truly there, every second of every day.
And one day, I read the life's story of Solomon, the wisest man to ever live. God told him one night to ask for whatever he wanted - anything. And being God, He could make that offer.
Solomon asked for wisdom. The essence of what he asked for was actually a "hearing heart" - so he could hear the hearts of the people placed under his rule. He wanted to follow his father's path (David, an man after God's own heart).
And then I read the line, "and it pleased God" - so I, in my hunger to please Him with my life, asked Him for the same thing.
I had no idea that the only way to hear some one's heart is to have gone through the same things. So I began to walk the path of sorrow and pain, to learn how to hear, and He brought me people who needed someone with a hearing heart so very much. He taught me how to listen, and guides the words I say, and blesses them to others. He uses the words that come out of my mouth to teach me as He lovingly reaches out to that hurting person. It's an amazing thing to walk with the Living God.
I highly recommend it.
If you've read this far, you may be wanting to know how to do this. You don't have to go to a church to reach Him. I do recommend that you kneel before Him, as He is the King of the Universe and there is no one else, no Being as powerful in all the Universe. Think on that for a moment, then bow your head before Him. Tell Jesus you know you've sinned. You know He is holy and you aren't. And You know He became a Man and died on a cross in exchange for your soul - He bought you. Every ounce of His suffering on that cross was for you. He in reality died rather than live without you And you are asking Jesus to come in and take possession of your heart and all you are. Thank Him for His Holy Spirit and for answering His prayer and coming in.
What will happen?
Maybe nothing. Maybe an explosion of joy inside you. Maybe you will feel like everything is new and in living color. For others, it comes on gradually.
I highly recommend you get a Bible and read it. Daily. If you're a Shakespeare buff, get the New King James version, it is in Olde English. Otherwise, get the New International Version, just ask for the NIV.
These both are interpretations by scholars who tried very very hard to present what the verses actually mean. Some of the "New" translations that say they are simply easier to understand, are not sticklers for interpretation. They paraphrase and add subtle bits of New Age thinking that turn your heart in those subtle ways to think of a New Age God, not the Living God. Find a church that teaches verse-by-verse through the Bible - the Calvary Chapel Churches are good at this, to find one near you go to Calvarychapel.org. Wherever you are in the world, there is probably one near you - and meet with other Christians (yes, you are now "one of them") and learn the joy of fellowship as well as friendship. If you have any questions or comments, feel free to leave them - click on the comment option, below (hold your mouse over the icons below and it will reveal a comment option.)
And welcome to the family of God! Adventure awaits you!
Saturday, March 28, 2015
Oh! How He loves you and me....
Still thinking about pain.
But not mine.
His.
I remember way back when I was in high school, I found an essay on the medical description of what Jesus endured on the cross. I don't remember the details, but I remember the horrified impression they left.
Now, as we approach "Holy Week", the last 7 days before the crucifixion, I have been praying to understand more of what He went thru.
I am a nurse, so just thinking about the nerve endings tortured (there is no other word for it) for 6 hours on the cross, is daunting.
For most of my life, I thought He had spent only ("only?") three hours on the cross. But if you read the time of crucifixion carefully, it occurred at 9 am, not noon. The last 3 hours, from 12 to 3pm, were in utter and complete darkness - of the soul as well as the body.
The first 3 hours were all the Father could bear to look at.
When He withdrew, He took the light with Him ("In Him is light, and no darkness at all",) and His presence as well. In order for Jesus to actually become sin, Jesus had to do it with a totally human perspective. He chose to be separated for the first time in all eternity (and the last) from the Father God.
I have thought of this quite a bit.
What a choice!
That means that He put aside every iota of knowledge He has as God. He became like us - in the "dark night of the soul", where we don't have a clue what God is doing in our lives, and must choose, like Jesus, to trust in the darkness.
But not without pain.
Pain is an integral part of the process of faith.
IN spite of not having a clue, in spite of that feeling of "alone-ness", where the voice of God is silent and we feel abandoned in the universe, in spite of the pain and fear engendered by that feeling of wondering if we really do belong to God and if He really does love us, in spite of allll of that, we choose to believe He is Who He says He is.
And Jesus, "being tempted (tried) in all points, even as we are", chose this unimaginable separation from all that is holy, pure, and true.
Think of it! He Who is light itself, chose to endure darkness, evil, the depths of depravity, so that He could redeem us.
Chose it.
As I mentioned in the last post, it is easier for me to endure physical pain than the pain where the soul itself is twisted and torn and stretched out of shape and tortured. Physical pain, however it governs our physical bodies, will end with this body, this "tent," as Paul calls it.
Tents are temporary, fleeting. They can be destroyed by a strong gust of wind, hail, fire, just about anything. They are flimsy. The strongest tent is still flimsy. It is a very temporary entity - and we do not even expect it to stand the test of time. It will wear out - day by day the elements will ravage it. It is doomed from the start.
Altho heartache, if we accept His sacrifice, will also end with the body, it is another animal completely.
I believe that is why, that last night in the garden, He sweat, as it were, "great drops of blood."
That, by the way, is a medically documented process caused by great suffering.
The pain of the cross, after all, was not an exclusive method of punishment. Legions of felons experienced it. So what made this particular crucifixion worthy of paying off our sin debt?
It was this separation, this contamination on a level we can only imagine! A 100% pure soul (not 99% - 100%) Who had never contemplated committing a sin, Who lived - really lived - a life in the presence oF His Father - this pure soul would become, actually become, sin. One by one. Filling His being. Tasting of it. Each breath, which was pain in itself, for He had to push up with His nailed feet and pull on His nailed hands to be able to breathe, each time, with His newly scourged back dragging on splintering wood, each nerve ending screaming with the physical pain, each breath He drew contaminated with evil thoughts and pictures and sensations until He reeked of it. Every cell full of sin.
My sin.
Your sin.
Every angry thought. Every rancid deed. Every wish for someone else to be destroyed for what they did to you. And the doing itself. One by one. Coming at You. Sliding down Your throat. Filling You with bile. Every cruel deed, every perversion, every horrific act devised by man in conjunction with satan.
In the darkness. Alone.
No refuge. No cleansing.
No Father.
Filled to the very brim.
I believe it was the contemplation of this that made His very blood want to run away - please Papa (the word is "Abba", used today in Israel, meaning "Daddy") if there is any way, any way, any way - three times He begged: don't abandon Me, Daddy! If there is any other way. Please, Please, Please.
Until He wrestled Himself into submission. He "set His face like flint" and never wavered - altho the evil one would be whispering, enticing, trying every trick and seduction he could draw on to cause Him to call legions of angels to free Him.
Even now, He said, Do you not think I could ask the Father to send legions of angels to rescue Me?
A legion was 1000 Roman soldiers. And He had plural :legions at His disposal.
Even now.
Yet, with the picture of my eternity laid out before Him, He chose to endure.
We were in His heart.
He chose us over freedom from an experience so overwhelmingly painful that His very being shrank from it.
So during this last week of His time on earth, I think He was savoring those He loved, those Who loved Him. Looking at them, His poor, confused, sheep, bleating on the precipice. And knowing - knowing beyond anything that we can even imagine - that He would still have to chose His answer. Knowing that He would have to agree in every detail. Whispers,whispers of safety surrounding Him as the time approached. You don't have to do this, You know.
All You have to do is say no.
And it was really that simple.
It was really all He had to do.
Just say, "no."
"Oh! How He loves you. Oh! How He loves me.
"Oh! How He loves you and me."
But not mine.
His.
I remember way back when I was in high school, I found an essay on the medical description of what Jesus endured on the cross. I don't remember the details, but I remember the horrified impression they left.
Now, as we approach "Holy Week", the last 7 days before the crucifixion, I have been praying to understand more of what He went thru.
I am a nurse, so just thinking about the nerve endings tortured (there is no other word for it) for 6 hours on the cross, is daunting.
For most of my life, I thought He had spent only ("only?") three hours on the cross. But if you read the time of crucifixion carefully, it occurred at 9 am, not noon. The last 3 hours, from 12 to 3pm, were in utter and complete darkness - of the soul as well as the body.
The first 3 hours were all the Father could bear to look at.
When He withdrew, He took the light with Him ("In Him is light, and no darkness at all",) and His presence as well. In order for Jesus to actually become sin, Jesus had to do it with a totally human perspective. He chose to be separated for the first time in all eternity (and the last) from the Father God.
I have thought of this quite a bit.
What a choice!
That means that He put aside every iota of knowledge He has as God. He became like us - in the "dark night of the soul", where we don't have a clue what God is doing in our lives, and must choose, like Jesus, to trust in the darkness.
But not without pain.
Pain is an integral part of the process of faith.
IN spite of not having a clue, in spite of that feeling of "alone-ness", where the voice of God is silent and we feel abandoned in the universe, in spite of the pain and fear engendered by that feeling of wondering if we really do belong to God and if He really does love us, in spite of allll of that, we choose to believe He is Who He says He is.
And Jesus, "being tempted (tried) in all points, even as we are", chose this unimaginable separation from all that is holy, pure, and true.
Think of it! He Who is light itself, chose to endure darkness, evil, the depths of depravity, so that He could redeem us.
Chose it.
As I mentioned in the last post, it is easier for me to endure physical pain than the pain where the soul itself is twisted and torn and stretched out of shape and tortured. Physical pain, however it governs our physical bodies, will end with this body, this "tent," as Paul calls it.
Tents are temporary, fleeting. They can be destroyed by a strong gust of wind, hail, fire, just about anything. They are flimsy. The strongest tent is still flimsy. It is a very temporary entity - and we do not even expect it to stand the test of time. It will wear out - day by day the elements will ravage it. It is doomed from the start.
Altho heartache, if we accept His sacrifice, will also end with the body, it is another animal completely.
I believe that is why, that last night in the garden, He sweat, as it were, "great drops of blood."
That, by the way, is a medically documented process caused by great suffering.
The pain of the cross, after all, was not an exclusive method of punishment. Legions of felons experienced it. So what made this particular crucifixion worthy of paying off our sin debt?
It was this separation, this contamination on a level we can only imagine! A 100% pure soul (not 99% - 100%) Who had never contemplated committing a sin, Who lived - really lived - a life in the presence oF His Father - this pure soul would become, actually become, sin. One by one. Filling His being. Tasting of it. Each breath, which was pain in itself, for He had to push up with His nailed feet and pull on His nailed hands to be able to breathe, each time, with His newly scourged back dragging on splintering wood, each nerve ending screaming with the physical pain, each breath He drew contaminated with evil thoughts and pictures and sensations until He reeked of it. Every cell full of sin.
My sin.
Your sin.
Every angry thought. Every rancid deed. Every wish for someone else to be destroyed for what they did to you. And the doing itself. One by one. Coming at You. Sliding down Your throat. Filling You with bile. Every cruel deed, every perversion, every horrific act devised by man in conjunction with satan.
In the darkness. Alone.
No refuge. No cleansing.
No Father.
Filled to the very brim.
I believe it was the contemplation of this that made His very blood want to run away - please Papa (the word is "Abba", used today in Israel, meaning "Daddy") if there is any way, any way, any way - three times He begged: don't abandon Me, Daddy! If there is any other way. Please, Please, Please.
Until He wrestled Himself into submission. He "set His face like flint" and never wavered - altho the evil one would be whispering, enticing, trying every trick and seduction he could draw on to cause Him to call legions of angels to free Him.
Even now, He said, Do you not think I could ask the Father to send legions of angels to rescue Me?
A legion was 1000 Roman soldiers. And He had plural :legions at His disposal.
Even now.
Yet, with the picture of my eternity laid out before Him, He chose to endure.
We were in His heart.
He chose us over freedom from an experience so overwhelmingly painful that His very being shrank from it.
So during this last week of His time on earth, I think He was savoring those He loved, those Who loved Him. Looking at them, His poor, confused, sheep, bleating on the precipice. And knowing - knowing beyond anything that we can even imagine - that He would still have to chose His answer. Knowing that He would have to agree in every detail. Whispers,whispers of safety surrounding Him as the time approached. You don't have to do this, You know.
All You have to do is say no.
And it was really that simple.
It was really all He had to do.
Just say, "no."
"Oh! How He loves you. Oh! How He loves me.
"Oh! How He loves you and me."
Sunday, March 22, 2015
the never ending adventure...
I've been thinking about pain today.
No big surprise - it's pretty much my daily companion.
But today I've been thinking about the varieties that the evil one has devised for us.
God had pretty much safeguarded me from mental pain - for which I am deeply grateful! I have dear ones who fight depression, Bi-polar and SAD, and the suffering they endure can not be called anything else but pain. And it breaks my heart, because I fight with my heart, and their hearts are so battered and worn by the type of pain they experience, that they feel inadequate and weak.
And they are anything but.
I so admire them. I've had my heart stabbed a few times (figuratively ) and I almost couldn't bear it. I am not strong enough for that kind of pain. And I so respect those who fight that battle - and I cheer their victories and the beauty that comes out of them.
Give me physical pain anyday. (I mean, instead of mental/heart stuff) Not that I'm asking for it. I've just pretty much figured out it's gonna get me sooner or later in my daily life.
I was in a pain study once, and the cartographer asked me how I could laugh and still say I was in a high rate of pain.
He was probably thinking about sharp pain. I am a wuss when the pain gets sharp. I don't handle it well. At all.
]But my pain is the deeeeeep ache that seems to settle in your bones and scream at you from just beyond your reach. It's the kind of pain that sucks the energy out of you like a 5 year old with a straw and a root beer float.
I didn't know how to answer him that day. I'd only been sick for a few years, and didn't realize that I was starting to learn coping.
Coping is a big part of pain. I feel like the pain wins if I let it dictate to me - something that has gotten me in trouble a few times. So, after 26 years and counting of pain, I know the answer now.
Chronic pain is like no other. When it's constant, day in, day out, and the only thing that varies is where/how strong, you can take pain meds and bear it. You can focus on other things that are enjoyable and get those endorphins humming, and yes, even tho the ache is bone deep and the black hole of energy, you can laugh and make light remarks - often because it would be useless to do otherwise.
I routinely tell people I'm ok when they ask how I am.
It's not true.
But unless you have experienced pain in that way, for that long, you would have no clue what I was talking about anyway. And worse, you wouldn't know what to say. It's a guaranteed conversation killer.
Aren't you worried about addiction? that's a frequent question. And my answer is no.
There is a light year's worth of difference between addiction and dependence.
Addiction seeks drugs for the high. And because your body gets used to the dosage you are taking, to get that high, you need more and more as time goes on. And to get that high, you would do anything. And that is what you think about and plot about and designed your day around
Dependence doesn't produce a high. No weirdness or dizzyness or wiped out-ness. Just a decrease, deeply welcomed, in the pain. I've been at the same level of narcotic for almost 10 years. And one of my problems is, I completely forget about taking my pain meds.
So by the time I realize "Oh! This is getting nasty!" my pain meds are less effective, and I mentally kick myself for it, and remember to take it the next time it is due.
I have partially gone into withdrawal twice. And I do not want to go there again. You cannot stay still. You feel like your legs will walk off without you if you stop moving. You can't think. Your pain becomes so obvious that suddenly you realize, "I'm in withdrawal!" and mentally try to figure out the last time you took your meds and promise yourself you will never ever do that again.
And yet I did. One more time.
I've discovered I can't go longer than 24 hours without taking it. In that respect, it has me bound. But it still is not even a blip on my consciousness for most of my day. In addition to the regular, on going pain I have severe arthritis in my neck, which makes a lot of things difficult.
And yes, I can still talk and laugh with people, even when it's bad, even when there's no relief for hours after I take my meds, and I know it's because I'm not alone in this.
I serve a God Who has measured out my allotment to the last bit of dust there is in me. He walks through it with me, and teaches me a lot about what I can do and what I can't - and Who holds each one of my breaths in His hands, and has measured them, too, down to the last O2 particle I will breathe out. He knows the kind of pain I can't tolerate - that sharp, suck the life out of you pain that comes with nails in your wrists and heels and your back torn to ribbons and rubbing on the rough splintery wood each time you take a breath that in itself is agony.
And I am keenly aware that He did it for me.
And no, I don't know why He chose to give this to me. Or the mental agony He chose for some of those I love.
But this I know:
He can be trusted beyond my capacity to imagine, and His motive is love for me. And if I can submit it to Him day by day, it will be the greatest adventure of my life.
Selah
No big surprise - it's pretty much my daily companion.
But today I've been thinking about the varieties that the evil one has devised for us.
God had pretty much safeguarded me from mental pain - for which I am deeply grateful! I have dear ones who fight depression, Bi-polar and SAD, and the suffering they endure can not be called anything else but pain. And it breaks my heart, because I fight with my heart, and their hearts are so battered and worn by the type of pain they experience, that they feel inadequate and weak.
And they are anything but.
I so admire them. I've had my heart stabbed a few times (figuratively ) and I almost couldn't bear it. I am not strong enough for that kind of pain. And I so respect those who fight that battle - and I cheer their victories and the beauty that comes out of them.
Give me physical pain anyday. (I mean, instead of mental/heart stuff) Not that I'm asking for it. I've just pretty much figured out it's gonna get me sooner or later in my daily life.
I was in a pain study once, and the cartographer asked me how I could laugh and still say I was in a high rate of pain.
He was probably thinking about sharp pain. I am a wuss when the pain gets sharp. I don't handle it well. At all.
]But my pain is the deeeeeep ache that seems to settle in your bones and scream at you from just beyond your reach. It's the kind of pain that sucks the energy out of you like a 5 year old with a straw and a root beer float.
I didn't know how to answer him that day. I'd only been sick for a few years, and didn't realize that I was starting to learn coping.
Coping is a big part of pain. I feel like the pain wins if I let it dictate to me - something that has gotten me in trouble a few times. So, after 26 years and counting of pain, I know the answer now.
Chronic pain is like no other. When it's constant, day in, day out, and the only thing that varies is where/how strong, you can take pain meds and bear it. You can focus on other things that are enjoyable and get those endorphins humming, and yes, even tho the ache is bone deep and the black hole of energy, you can laugh and make light remarks - often because it would be useless to do otherwise.
I routinely tell people I'm ok when they ask how I am.
It's not true.
But unless you have experienced pain in that way, for that long, you would have no clue what I was talking about anyway. And worse, you wouldn't know what to say. It's a guaranteed conversation killer.
Aren't you worried about addiction? that's a frequent question. And my answer is no.
There is a light year's worth of difference between addiction and dependence.
Addiction seeks drugs for the high. And because your body gets used to the dosage you are taking, to get that high, you need more and more as time goes on. And to get that high, you would do anything. And that is what you think about and plot about and designed your day around
Dependence doesn't produce a high. No weirdness or dizzyness or wiped out-ness. Just a decrease, deeply welcomed, in the pain. I've been at the same level of narcotic for almost 10 years. And one of my problems is, I completely forget about taking my pain meds.
So by the time I realize "Oh! This is getting nasty!" my pain meds are less effective, and I mentally kick myself for it, and remember to take it the next time it is due.
I have partially gone into withdrawal twice. And I do not want to go there again. You cannot stay still. You feel like your legs will walk off without you if you stop moving. You can't think. Your pain becomes so obvious that suddenly you realize, "I'm in withdrawal!" and mentally try to figure out the last time you took your meds and promise yourself you will never ever do that again.
And yet I did. One more time.
I've discovered I can't go longer than 24 hours without taking it. In that respect, it has me bound. But it still is not even a blip on my consciousness for most of my day. In addition to the regular, on going pain I have severe arthritis in my neck, which makes a lot of things difficult.
And yes, I can still talk and laugh with people, even when it's bad, even when there's no relief for hours after I take my meds, and I know it's because I'm not alone in this.
I serve a God Who has measured out my allotment to the last bit of dust there is in me. He walks through it with me, and teaches me a lot about what I can do and what I can't - and Who holds each one of my breaths in His hands, and has measured them, too, down to the last O2 particle I will breathe out. He knows the kind of pain I can't tolerate - that sharp, suck the life out of you pain that comes with nails in your wrists and heels and your back torn to ribbons and rubbing on the rough splintery wood each time you take a breath that in itself is agony.
And I am keenly aware that He did it for me.
And no, I don't know why He chose to give this to me. Or the mental agony He chose for some of those I love.
But this I know:
He can be trusted beyond my capacity to imagine, and His motive is love for me. And if I can submit it to Him day by day, it will be the greatest adventure of my life.
Selah
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Our God is an Awesome God! He reigns from heaven above...
Another sleepless night last night.
I am prone to bowel obstructions (BI) due to several abdominal surgeries and the scar tissue they left behind.
So when my abdomen begins to hurt, that's the first thing that comes to mind. And last night, it hurt. Badly.
So then I take pain meds - which is another factor in BI's - it hurts, you take meds, it slows the bowel moving things along in the intestine, which makes you at high risk for a BI and causes so much pain you have to take the pain meds, which slows things down yada yada yada - the most vicious of cycles begins, again, to steal my sleep and increase my fear.
But then again, it knocks my soul to its knees and draws me to prayer.
And so, off and on, thru the night, I prayed. A lot.
Because today, no excuses, I HAD to drive a fur piece to Costco, one of those ginormous airplane-sized hangars stuffed to the gills with giant-sized packages of, well, just about anything. And on a Saturday, it was a mob scene, even bigger than the regular-sized daily mob scene. Even tho I was sleep-deprived, I had to go there. Had to.
Because I was completely out of a very necessary heart medication that can itself cause a heart attack if you stop it suddenly.
So I asked my Papa to please arrange for me to 1) find a parking space and 2) find one of those put-put thingys they have for those of us who are physically challenged to even contemplate walking the mile and a half way to the back of the said plane hangar to pick up my Rx.
Wellllll perhaps not a whole mile and a half. Maybe just the half. Altho, when I am walking it because all the put-puts are occupied, it sure feels like a mile and a half!
And both of those things that I prayed for? They are few and far far between on a Saturday.
So I pulled into the ginormous parking lot and just (mentally) shook my head in defeat. I gave up. Because cars were circling all around the parking lot like sharks, looking for a spot they could do battle over like a scene from Jaws.
So I turned into the handicapped section.
And there, smack dab in front of me was .....an empty parking space! Astonished, I told my Papa thank You. And kicked myself for being astonished.
He does that frequently when I really need it - and every time I am astonished. Why is that? He is the Creator of the universe and I don't think He can provide a puny parking space? In the handicapped section that never has an empty space? Close to the door?
Shame-faced, I am astonished every time.
So now I looked for a put-put - the place where they should be was, of course, empty. And on top of that, the other kind of shopping cart was waaaay far away.
Then one of the shopping-cart-rounder-uppers came trundling towards the warehouse and left a line of shopping carts right by the entrance - and they sort of sat there in a flock as people came up and grabbed one. And front and center, camouflaged by all of the shopping carts was.....
Guess.
No, really Guess
Yup.
Good guess.
You are correct.
A put-put.
Waiting. For. Me.
For me. The astonished one. The I-can't-even-muster-the-faith-to-believe-You-can-find-me-a-parking-space one.
The help-me-I've-fallen-and-I-can't-get-up-one.
The one to whom God says, oh so gently, "Don't you know by now I love you anyway?"
And then (oh, come on! You knew this wasn't over yet didn't you?)
And then...I stepped up put-putted to the Pharmacy and:
My med wasn't there.
"Not for two more days" said the lady.
"How can that be? I'm not just low on this med - I'm out of it. None. Nada. Nothing. And it's a must-have medication."
So she sent me to the drop off window and said to talk to them.
I did.
And the nice wonderful go-the-extra-mile-lady at the window said, "We can do this. Come back in 30 minutes and it will be ready,."
So I came back in 25 minutes, 5 minutes early even - and there were no lines to wait for, nobody in front of me, step right up and there it was.
And my heart was face down on the floor worshipping the One Who holds my breath in His hands.
And I was astonished - and humbled and in awe and full of gratitude.
And, wonder of wonders of all wonders, He still loves me anyway.
Sigh.
We worship an Awesome God.
I am prone to bowel obstructions (BI) due to several abdominal surgeries and the scar tissue they left behind.
So when my abdomen begins to hurt, that's the first thing that comes to mind. And last night, it hurt. Badly.
So then I take pain meds - which is another factor in BI's - it hurts, you take meds, it slows the bowel moving things along in the intestine, which makes you at high risk for a BI and causes so much pain you have to take the pain meds, which slows things down yada yada yada - the most vicious of cycles begins, again, to steal my sleep and increase my fear.
But then again, it knocks my soul to its knees and draws me to prayer.
And so, off and on, thru the night, I prayed. A lot.
Because today, no excuses, I HAD to drive a fur piece to Costco, one of those ginormous airplane-sized hangars stuffed to the gills with giant-sized packages of, well, just about anything. And on a Saturday, it was a mob scene, even bigger than the regular-sized daily mob scene. Even tho I was sleep-deprived, I had to go there. Had to.
Because I was completely out of a very necessary heart medication that can itself cause a heart attack if you stop it suddenly.
So I asked my Papa to please arrange for me to 1) find a parking space and 2) find one of those put-put thingys they have for those of us who are physically challenged to even contemplate walking the mile and a half way to the back of the said plane hangar to pick up my Rx.
Wellllll perhaps not a whole mile and a half. Maybe just the half. Altho, when I am walking it because all the put-puts are occupied, it sure feels like a mile and a half!
And both of those things that I prayed for? They are few and far far between on a Saturday.
So I pulled into the ginormous parking lot and just (mentally) shook my head in defeat. I gave up. Because cars were circling all around the parking lot like sharks, looking for a spot they could do battle over like a scene from Jaws.
So I turned into the handicapped section.
And there, smack dab in front of me was .....an empty parking space! Astonished, I told my Papa thank You. And kicked myself for being astonished.
He does that frequently when I really need it - and every time I am astonished. Why is that? He is the Creator of the universe and I don't think He can provide a puny parking space? In the handicapped section that never has an empty space? Close to the door?
Shame-faced, I am astonished every time.
So now I looked for a put-put - the place where they should be was, of course, empty. And on top of that, the other kind of shopping cart was waaaay far away.
Then one of the shopping-cart-rounder-uppers came trundling towards the warehouse and left a line of shopping carts right by the entrance - and they sort of sat there in a flock as people came up and grabbed one. And front and center, camouflaged by all of the shopping carts was.....
Guess.
No, really Guess
Yup.
Good guess.
You are correct.
A put-put.
Waiting. For. Me.
For me. The astonished one. The I-can't-even-muster-the-faith-to-believe-You-can-find-me-a-parking-space one.
The help-me-I've-fallen-and-I-can't-get-up-one.
The one to whom God says, oh so gently, "Don't you know by now I love you anyway?"
And then (oh, come on! You knew this wasn't over yet didn't you?)
And then...I
My med wasn't there.
"Not for two more days" said the lady.
"How can that be? I'm not just low on this med - I'm out of it. None. Nada. Nothing. And it's a must-have medication."
So she sent me to the drop off window and said to talk to them.
I did.
And the nice wonderful go-the-extra-mile-lady at the window said, "We can do this. Come back in 30 minutes and it will be ready,."
So I came back in 25 minutes, 5 minutes early even - and there were no lines to wait for, nobody in front of me, step right up and there it was.
And my heart was face down on the floor worshipping the One Who holds my breath in His hands.
And I was astonished - and humbled and in awe and full of gratitude.
And, wonder of wonders of all wonders, He still loves me anyway.
Sigh.
We worship an Awesome God.
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