And another round

Well, not satisfied with normal MRIs, my neuro guy ordered another 2 - he thinks I've had a stroke in the brain stem, which is what my baby brother died of at age 45.  He also set up more EEGs.  As the double vision worsens and the eye has less movement - the eye patch is irritating in the extreme (as I murmur against the One Who ordained this for me.  Again.)

So I am awaiting whatever God has in store for me.  And while I wait, my Master gives me songs, and fills me with His peace, for He has promised I can do all things through Jesus Christ, and that includes whatever physical malady He chooses to bestow.

But His Word also promises treasures in the darkness - and so the poems come.  Thinking about prayer and faith, I often start to write out my thoughts, and those thoughts often arrange themselves into poetry.  So here is what I found in the darkness - and to me, they are truly treasures:

I am finding prayer to be a dance.
God leads
I follow,
Swirling our footsteps together -
And floating in His everlasting arms
I hear music
--------
People of the Book

Grant me, O LORD,
A vibrant, shimmering faith
That dances before You
Like David.
Gird it with strength enough
To sacrifice my heart's desire
Without a seconds hesitation
As did Abraham.
And may I be blessed to know
That the friendship of God
Lingers in my tent
Like Job -
Enabling me, too,
To bear the pain
Hear songs in the night
And whisper
Through the shredded fiber of my soul
"Though He slay me,
Yet shall I trust Him."

In everything give thanks

The results are in: the MRIs are normal.  My doc and I looked at each other in wonder!  The enlarging lump on my salivary gland is still there, still enlarging, with no answer as to why.  My right eye has ceased responding to movement and has hitched itself to my nose, resulting in double vision.  The opthomologist says "I dunno" and the neurologist comes up with all kinds of scary reasons, all of which are not evident from the Mris.  And while several alleluias are still rising in gratitude that nothing of urgent or life-threatening caliber is occurring, it is surely life changing.

Seeing with one eye results in no depth perception.  Stumbling becomes frequent, bumping into someone on the covered side is commonplace, I can't sense when someone is near.  And the eye patch has me thinking of saying "ARRGH!", buying a parrot, and sitting tin-cupped in the heart of Vegas to earn money to pay for all the MRIs!  The neurologist wants to do another one to see if there are any changes that might explain why the right eye would suddenly give up its muscles and nerves and lie there, not responding.  Both eyes perfectly focus and work, they just don't work together.

It's hard to give thanks for.  I would much rather have something they could see, diagnose, and fix.

But I don't .  What I have is something that throws me upon my Papa's breast daily, whining for a bit, crying for a bit, and then asking Him to do whatever He chooses for me, because His choices are the best.  And then, at this stage through mostly gritted teeth, thanking Him in this.  I wish I could say that I'm perfectly at ease and coping well, thanking Him with each breath, but that would be a lie.  I'm struggling a bit.

I love to read.  It has been my solace and joy through 20 years + of CI, and without it in those first few years I would have perished.  I discovered Amy Carmichael, Annie Johnson Flint and others whose marks I now bear in my spirit.  I escaped into the books of Jan Karon, visiting Mitford, North Carolina and meeting friends there, learning to pray with a loving heart by the example of Father Tim.

And now it's difficult to read.  I am more afraid of losing this ability than of anything else the Lord could allow into my life.  I am a calligrapher.  I know the rudiments of American Sign Language, though I am far from proficient.  I can sign better than I can read sign because I can practice signing alone, but not practice reading alone.  I need headache-free eyes to do that as well as finding someone to practice with.  I knit and crochet, and while I have done so for so long I rarely look at the stitches while knitting, I do need to see mistakes.

Amazing how important some take-for-granted ability becomes when its existence is threatened, isn't it?  So many days I had the chance to praise and thank Him for eyesight and never did, and now I must praise Him for allowing me to lose some of it.

My solace is His presence, His reassurance that He does indeed have a plan for my life, and yes, as hard as it is to swallow sometimes, this is part of that plan.  It has repercussions for my life, my spiritual walk, and the attitude of my soul.  He either is my Lord and my King, or I am.

This is where the rubber meets the road, and it has surely met me!  I have already learned to thank Him with a humble joy that I can still hear, I can still speak, my earthly tent is still intact and those I love are safe and sound for the moment.  I have a roof over my head that is warm and safe, and am able to pray and be instantly face to face with the Creator of the heavens and the earth and Who, I am constantly amazed to realize, wants nothing more than for me to come and talk to Him, alone and with my heart in my eyes.

Soooooo, balancing things out a bit, I've come to realize I am still quite wealthy in gifts He has dropped into my lap, and praising comes a bit easier to my heart - the same One Who showered all these riches upon me is the One Who has decided, for the time being, to remove some of the awesome capabilities of the tent I inhabit and asked me to have trust enough to thank and praise Him for this stretch in my life.

And I have committed to do it.

I invite you to join me, thanking Him for the things you normally take for granted, for the ones you love that you trust will be there when you wake up of a morning, and to praise Him for each time you do just that - wake up!  The gift of one more day on this earth should not be taken lightly.  We are more fragile than we think, and tomorrow is not guaranteed to anyone

So, I thank You, my King, for these circumstances and praise your wisdom in choosing these blips in life's road for me.  Make me strong enough to delight in Your choices and praise You in everything those choices entail.  I ask this in Jesus' name.
amen.

One day at a time

In Thee do I put my trust - Ps 7:1

Where is your trust?

Currently I've had disturbing physical changes taking place, a mass growing on my salivary gland and something is apparently pushing my eye out of its socket, resulting in increased headache pain and double vision.  The testing has been grueling and seemingly endless, and I have been given no results yet - the big day will be Thursday (I am writing this on Tuesday).

It has set me to thinking about trust.

When things come up that take  your breath away, decrease your comfort in life, or shake you up, where do you turn?  Do you continue with your days as usual, trusting Him as usual, or do you run hither and yon looking for comfort.

When Jesus first burst into my life, I had a good friend who facilitated the introductions.  We were riding on a California freeway one day and a car in front of us started swerving erratically.  Immediately he cried out "Father, help them!"  ( My own reaction was along the lines of "Lookit that idiot..." )

I was so impressed by his automatic reliance on Jesus that later, when I was alone with my heavenly Papa, I asked that He would put that reflex in my heart, way down deep, that my first and always reaction to anything would be prayer.

I am very grateful to tell you that He answered that prayer.

So during these trying testing times He has drawn me  closer in prayer, and the peace of His presence has guarded me.

I am not saying I'm blissfully unaware of the connotations of these symptoms.  Being a nurse, I know what they point towards - a tumor of some kind, and if  it's glioma, it's a virtual ticket Home, which I consider a get-out-of-jail=free card.

I'm also not immune to fear.  I find it interesting that I'm not afraid of death per se, but I am nervous about the mode of exit.  I'm not looking forward to more pain, and I am praying that if this is His choice, He will carry me through it.  He has never failed me before, I have no reason to suspect He will fail me now.

So what am I struggling with?

I'm struggling with discovering my obligations to this tent He has placed me in.  Must I fight for one more day of pain?  Can I simply lay down and let whatever this is do its work and free me from this mortal coil?  How do I ease the way for those that love me?  Is it possible to ease their hold on my life enough to let it go?  Can I possibly do anything that will increase their trust of the One Who makes all Decisions, helping them to see Romans 8:28 at work here?

And all this, mind you, without any concrete information as to what I am dealing with ( how illness gets us going, doesn't it?).  It may turn out to be nothing more serious than a local infection easily dealt with - in which case my navel pondering will all have been for nought. 

Nevertheless, the questions are real, and must be answered - if not now, then at some future date, barring the rapture's occurrence (Even so, come quickly, Lord Jesus!) 

So I am wrestling with the answers,  for I truly seek His will in this.  And it boils down to living the same way any CI has to live: one day at a time, bringing each day's events before Him in prayer, doing the best with what He gives us each day.

I don't know what tomorrow (or Thursday) will bring. 

But I know Who will bring it.  I know His love for me is eternal. I know His choices for me are perfect. And I know He will never fail.

In Thee do I put my trust.

The Cross

Have you noticed that the cross touches everything in your life?  Relationships, activities, phone calls, prayers - everything.


We have been chosen to love.


The cross, which is the ultimate depiction of love, requires us to be sacrificial in our daily lives. 


What does that look like?


Perhaps it means not unleashing our bad moods, or bad days, on anything that moves.  Replacing irritability with a heart that is focused on the other person, not on how rotten we feel.  Forcing ourselves to say or do something that would mean a lot to the other person, but which we find hard to deal with.  In essence, to quote Amy Carmichael, "See in it a chance to die."


The problem for those of us with CI is, we already feel like we're dying (on really bad days).  It is so very easy to become consumed with how our bodies are betraying us and narrow our focus down to include only ourselves.  We cease to recognize how our actions and reactions affect others.  In short, CI often breeds a subtle selfishness we fail to recognize or excuse because we feel so rotten.  We replace Jesus on the throne of our hearts with our illness.  Because it dictates our activity level, we coddle our bodies to the point where everything else - and every one else - are relegated to 2nd place.


Surely this is not what Jesus had in mind when He allowed this illness to enter our lives.


I know how hard it is to tear your focus away from the pain, the weakness, the inability to function the way ABs can.  Pain has a way of blotting out everything else - especially when it's throbbing or attaining new heights of affliction.


But all of that is still under the dominion of the cross.  He charges us to love others.  And when we force ourselves out of the bubble CI places around us, girded with pain and disability,  we are most like the One Who truly died rather than live without us.


For the Messiah, Jesus the Anointed One, the Christ, spent His time teaching us how to love.  Not to keep rules and regulations, but to love - and in doing so, the rules and regulations take c/o themselves.


Did you know that the cross is visible in the Old Testament as well?  Before any one had even conceived of the torture of the the Roman cross, God included it in His Word - then, as now, God can look on His people only through the redemptive power of the cross.


Go to Numbers, Chapter 2.  In it, God gives directions for how the Israelites are to travel.
Get a piece of paper.  In the middle put a capital "T"  for the tabernacle Make an x for every ten thousand mentioned in the text.


East of the T, we have Judah. v.9 tells us there were 186,400 from that tribe: make 19 x's to the left of the T.                                                                                                                          


 v.16 tells us the tribe of Reuben's divisions to the South are 151,450.  Make 15 x's downward from the T.


To the west is Ephraim's divisions: 108,100.  Make 11 x's to the right of the T.


And to the north are Dan's divisions: 157,600.  Make 15 x's  upward from the T.


What have you created?            


Amazing, isn't it?  When God would look down on His people, even then, He always saw the cross.  When He looks at us, He sees the same thing.


The trick is, when we look at ourselves, do we, too, see the same thing?


For me, that is a rare occurrence.


My heart's desire is to be a good and faithful servant.  Too often I am neither.


But the Holy Spirit reminds me that the cross has paid for all of my failures.  My task is to get up from where I've fallen, confess it, and move on - taking my place with the Tabernacle now within me, and following like the Israelites did:   keeping my eyes on Jesus and following wherever He leads, into illness or out of it, keeping the prize of loving in His Name ever present in my heart.




A friend of mine chooses a word to concentrate on each year - like "praise" or "obedience", etc.  I've decided to follow her example.


You can probably guess what word  I chose.


You're right.


"Love."

Called

While they were worshipping the LORD and fasting, the Holy Spirit said,' Separate now for Me Barnabus and Saul for the work to which I have called them.'" Acts 13:2  NKJV


Have you been called, separated unto the Holy Spirit by your illness?


That certainly never occurred to me - until today, when the Holy Spirit touched these words and they stood up and waved.


I do feel like this illness has separated me, that's for sure!  I never know when I will have enough energy or the ability to think straight enough to accomplish something or go somewhere.  One by one friends stop calling because I have become so unreliable.  It also prevents me from involving myself in physical tasks at my church, prevents me from serving in some capacities I would love to be involved with. 


But our God neither makes mistakes nor wastes anything.  CI, and what the world calls "infirmities" are occurrences that carry with them rich opportunities.


Look for a moment at those whose lives were "afflicted" but chose to seek God through them instead of choosing to concentrate on the suffering itself.  The poet Annie Johnson Flint, who has blessed my life immensely, from the age of 21 was confined to a wheelchair in intense pain from arthritis - and wheelchairs in the 1800's, not to mention pain relief, were certainly antiquated and uncomfortable.  Fanny Crosby was blind, Madame Guyon scarred and weakened by smallpox, Amy Carmichael hurt so badly in a serious fall that she was confined to bed in severe pain for the last 20 years of her life.  Her attitude?  "See in it a chance to die," she said.  And did you know that Charles Spurgeon suffered enormously from headaches and black depressions?  Yet each one of them concentrated instead on the One Who chose this path for them, Who "separated" them by it, and were more than conquerors!


Well, I am definitely no Spurgeon!  But others are watching us, whether we realize it or not.  If they can see a peace-filled loving Christian who worships where they cannot understand, who vigilantly refuses bitterness and self-pity, anger or despair, blessing their caregivers and giving thanks "in all things" they will remember us when their own dark moments come - and dark moments come to everyone.


That remembrance may have eternal significance.


If we will simply (!) give one day at a time to Him, purposing in our hearts to make this one day a day in which our hearts will abide in Him and seek His will in our lives for that one day we will have accomplished the purpose for which He has separated us: that His will may be foremost in our lives.

It is so easy to say, and so difficult to do, isn't it?  Whenever I hear someone say the word "simply" I know a hard thing is coming!  So, this is my prayer, just for today:

Papa, just for today I choose to allow You to separate me however You desire. I turn it all over to You, trusting Your choices for me.  Through Your Holy Spirit I choose to live for You, just for today.

...and please, Papa, help me to live each day like this one.  Amen.

The last day of the year

It is my custom on the last day of the year to look back and take stock.  So far, I have always found more blessings and provisions of safety or recovery or answered prayer than anything else.  Yes, I am losing ground, my pain level varies from day to day, and I am losing my hearing.  But I have been provided with everything I need and then some, provided with parking places by the door when I'm having a bad day, medications that help, family that is near, and friends who have come through bouts of cancer and  depression and still say firmly that God is enough. 


And I heartily agree.  He is more than enough.  He is everything.


"...we also glory in tribulation, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance, and perseverance character, and character, hope.  Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us."  Romans 5:3-5 KNJV


Have you ever gloried in  your illness?


I sure haven't!


But reading this verse today, the Holy Spirit stopped me in my tracks.


Perseverance, character, and hope. 3 things obviously valued by our God.  And tribulation is the key to developing them.


Wow.


Because being CI means that we are turning to Him more often, seeing His interventions in our lives, more clearly - because AB's are often distracted by their world and the demands made upon them, while CIS are, simply, watching for proof of His hand in our lives.  We are actually hoping in His power to keep us and provide for us.


And we are learning lessons about His trustworthiness that can be learned  no other way.


To glory in pain and weakness is counter intuitive to most of us - but in the reality of God, it is a proven method of training, a time when His presence and power are sought and released in forceful and deeply felt pleas, a time of closeness and dependence.  Should He ever choose to return us to AB status, these lessons will be so ingrained in us, God willing, that our first response to difficulty or tribulation will always and ever be prayer.  To glory in weakness is simply rejoicing in being in a position where His power and goodness will come into play on our behalf, vividly, in glorious abundance.  And the by-product will be virtues He values becoming a deep integral part of our spirits.


Surely a reason for praise - and glory.


Soooo our CI is earning glory for us as we endure, "For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us" Romans 8:18

Some thoughts on Christmas

I'm writing this on Christmas Eve, and a dickensian fog has descended on our valley - very rare here in the land of no humidity, but we've had record breaking rains and a whole week of rainy days - swirling and flowing and making Christmas lights glow instead of twinkle.  The whole neighborhood has taken on a magical quality - very appropriate for Christmas!


It is my custom each year to meditate a bit on Christmas - its meaning and  everything that comes with it.




This year I've been thinking globally.


If you saw  the movie "Fiddler on the Roof", there is a scene where the Sabbath is being celebrated - first by the papas, then the mommas, then the sons, then the daughters, and then it spreads to a multitude of households, all offering their Sabbath prayer, all lighting candles, all singing and celebrating the coming of God's Sabbath day.


I've been thinking of Christmas like that - how in each home, city, country, the traditions are different,  but all have at their center the Birth.  In my mind's eye I see gazillions of homes, hear Christmas carols in a thousand languages, see hearts tender and remembering the Babe Who first opened His eyes on the world He came to save.


The Light of the World shines in each light bulb on each decorated house, in each candle, in each speck of brightness that shines in the darkness.


Smiles light faces instead of frowns, excited children can't wait to dive into the presents, and family traditions reassure us and usher in the holiday with a sense of timeless nostalgia.  In our hearts, we all come home for Christmas, even if the family is no longer "home" on earth.  God gave us memories to bless us and comfort us while we sojourn here - for this, at Christmas more than usual, reminds us that this is not our Home - and for me, 90% of my family is Home.  (They are no doubt listening to the original choir that sang on that first Christmas evening, to threadbare shepherds guarding the Passover lambs.)


I think of Joseph, how he must have been wondering what God was doing when they wound up in a stinky, cold stable, where the manger was carved from cold stone in the side of the cave, their only source of warmth the un-housetrained cows and donkeys, chickens and dogs who shared their space.  And then he probably wound up having to deliver Mary, who was not yet his wife in the full sense of the word, and feeling embarrassed and terrified - he was, after all, delivering the Messiah! Alone. And altho he no doubt would have helped sheep or donkeys deliver, this was waaaaaaaaaay different.


And Mary, who was personally told by an angel that she would give birth to Messiah, the King of the universe, perhaps had dreams of giving birth in a royal household, of having her Son welcomed by the Pharisees and Sadducees and religious authorities.  Yet somehow she finds herself in an unsanitary, uncomfortable, un-royal stable, alone - no midwife - having to give birth attended by a man who wasn't yet a real husband, but a bodyguard.  She was only anywhere from 13 to 16 years old, had probably never seen a birth or been told much about it.  God, what are You doing???


All of which tells me that God does not act in ways that we would imagine - He often does things in ways we simply do not comprehend.  I wonder what He thinks of what Christmas has become.  Certainly there is a lot of hubbub about things that have nothing to do with the birth of the Savior.


But for those of us who look back to His birth with a touch of wonder and adoration, and look forward to the next time He comes, also with a touch of wonder and adoration - and yearning, and being excited children who can't wait to dive into our celestial presents, and impatiently waiting to see The light of the world, face-to-face - the day in itself is a foretaste of the celebration that is to come.   For we have opened our hearts - no doubt originally as stinky and cold as that stable - and He, our Savior and King, has entered without hesitation, cleansing us and filling our earthen vessels with a treasure the world at large has ignored.  And the world at large is, for this one day of the year, concerned with giving instead of taking, peace instead of strife, and instead of snarling and grabbing and backstabbing, singing the carols of Christmas.


May your difficulties and pain, your limitations and illness, fade a bit during this time - knowing that He is near, He is listening, and He loves you with an everlasting love.


Merry Christmas.