Not So Much In The Mood

I seriously have so much I could have posted about in the last couple of months but recently I've not been much in the mood to share.

I really thought I'd be markedly better by now and well on the road to no medication and hopefully remission. No such luck. Not that I really believe in luck but for lack of better verbiage that's what I chose.

I'm actually quite disheartened at how recent events have unfolded. Depending on the day I can see the important, eternal things. But when you wake up in pain every day and it never really goes away, it's hard to maintain that attitude. This is particularly true given that I've pleaded with God for relief. There is, however, one thing I am willing to share. I recently discovered that while I've asked God for a lot this year, complete and total healing was not on the list. I know...astounding! I've prayed for guidance for the doctors, relief from the pain, medication that works and the list goes on. A friend shared with me recently that while it's odd and not completely right that I've not prayed for that, it is understandable. I've dealt with medical issues a lot in my life so my first action is just that--action. I just start the process and go through the motions because it's so familiar. If only it weren't.

So, that's where I am now--asking for complete, total healing. But the truth is, I'm often not in the mood to pray either and I don't really know what to say either. So I decided a couple of weeks ago to read and pray through the Psalms. I don't even care if I do one a day, a verse a day or even a month. There is no race. Slow and steady - that's my plan for 2011.

Here's a few of my favorite phrases so far:

"The One enthroned in heaven laughs.." (2:4) I love this because it is evidence God has a sense of humor and HE LAUGHS. I like that because laughter is salve to my soul.

"But you are a shield around me, O Lord; you bestow glory on me and lift up my head." (3:3) So many times I have hung my head in shame, guilt and sadness. God Himself lifts it up!

"I wake again, because the Lord sustains me." (3:5) Fear is a mainstay of mine. I never realized how easily I become fearful. I am battling a fear of death like never before yet I wake not because of medical treatments but because the Lord sustains me.

"From the Lord comes deliverance." (3:8) Need I expound?

"Give me relief from my distress; be merciful to me and hear my prayer." (4:1) RELIEF. That's all.

"The Lord will hear when I call to him." (4:3) I have felt frequently that God hasn't heard me and that I've been forgotten. This is a reminder.

"I will lie down and sleep in peace, for you alone, O Lord make me dwell in safety." (4:8) Again, the fear thing.

"Be merciful to me, Lord, for I am faint; O Lord, heal me, for my bones are in agony. My soul is in anguish. How Long, O Lord, how long? Turn, O Lord, and deliver me; save me because of your unfailing love." (6:2-4) I have prayed these sentences VERBATIM. They sum it up completely.

"I am worn out from groaning; all night long I flood my bed with weeping and drench my couch with tears. My eyes grow weak with sorrow." (6:6-7a) I cry, cry and cry some more. Over important stuff and stupid stuff. Over pain, over fear. It's seriously exhausting.

"The Lord has heard my cry for mercy, the Lord accepts my prayer." (6:9) I actually prayed this in faith because as I said, I'm not always in the groove where I believe this.

So, there it is. The struggles continue but I don't like to be or want to be one of those people who are perpetually in a crisis or not doing well so for the most part, only those (unfortunate) people who live with me or do life really closely to me see it all. I'm sure it isn't all that great being one of them.

My Calling is Just Beyond......the Devastation

The last several weeks I've been leading a good Bible study. Not by happenstance it's exactly what I needed in this season of my life and journey. It's been loaded with personal application and tons of things just jumping up before my very eyes.

One week in particular has been stuck in my brain for 3 weeks. I keep mulling it over and over. The study is Anointed, Transformed, Redeemed; a Lifeway study featuring Priscilla Shirer, Beth Moore and Kay Arthur. In the second video session by Beth Moore she talked about a "point of devastation" we encounter not once but more likely many times on this life journey. She asked something along the lines of "what do we do when God doesn't behave? When he doesn't act like we think he should?"

Now, before you go thinking that statement is heretical, the question is really "what do we do when God doesn't behave as we think he should?" (You'd have to watch the entire video in context) Obviously God doesn't mis-behave. He does, however, behave differently than we think he should or than we'd like. And nothing upsets our faith more than when God acts differently than we think he should or how we'd like. At that point we're devastated. What do we do?

This is EXACTLY where I am. God has done something completely out of my plan for my life, something I didn't desire and something I don't like. Not one bit. By the way, this isn't the first time. I can promise you I never desired or asked for a chronic illness...never, ever. Certainly not twice in one lifetime. Yet here it is. What am I going to do with that?

She went on to say that our calling is just beyond that point of devastation and we can't fully realize that calling until we move past the devastation. The story used in the video portion I am referring to comes from 2 Samuel 6 where David was attempting to bring the Ark of God back to Jerusalem and because of a failure to do it as prescribed, Uzzah was struck down and died. David was angry. David was afraid. Man, can I relate to that!

I conclude from this that it's okay to be confused by events that happen to us, it's okay to be angry and even okay to be afraid. BUT WE CANNOT STAY THERE. Obviously we're not going to sail through these events and never feel emotion. After all, we are human and we don't know how it's all going to come together. There is no sense in denying it otherwise we'll become bitter and the infestation will rob us of our joy for the rest of our lives. And just as horrible, we will be fake. I despise phoniness. Yet I've realized some of that in my life prior to and during this latest trial. I take comfort in the fact that I am shuddering at the thought of missing out on doing great things for God because I can't get over it. I actually wrote out the following questions in an effort to process...what if I don't believe God is who he says he is? What if I don't believe he has something great for me? What if I don't get past the point of devastation? What will my life miss? Pretty deep stuff for me to ponder, actually.

And there it is. I am now trying to figure out what I need to do to get past the devastation of what is happening to me so that I can take my rightful place in the calling that lies just beyond. And so do you.

Learning to Ask the Right Questions

It's amazing the lessons coming at me from a thousand different directions. I'll be honest, I've not embraced or even wanted some of them. At times I feel like I'm in a vice grip that just keeps getting tighter. Some of the "stuff" pouring out of me is a delight...BUT...much of it is junk I wish weren't there, didn't know was there and the task before me is figure out what to do with all that.

Last week we spent 3 days with some of our small group leaders in training at a retreat. It's one of my favorite things every year.

One of the sessions touched on pain and suffering. Obviously it was in the context of how that relates to small group living but nevertheless, the lessons abounded for me personally as well. Two of the passages referenced were:

Romans 5:3-4 (NIV) "Not only so, but also rejoice in our sufferings because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope."

and

1 Peter 5:10 (NIV) "And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast."

So, it's clear from these passages that suffering is not happenstance. Don't get me wrong, I didn't think it was before I was reminded of these verses but sometimes in the midst of really difficult times I simply forget. I think we all do.

But what jumped out at me the most from this is that I need to learn to ask the right questions. For example, instead of asking God "why me" or "why now" I should be asking "what do you have for me during this season"?

In the midst of all this, I was waiting for the results of my latest tests which I was convinced would be normal because I had told God I couldn't take anything else. When we returned from our retreat there was a letter from my doctor with a new batch of bad news. I was flabbergasted. I bawled my eyes out. Actually I wept. I found myself overcome with the ongoing fear of dying and a newly found fear of living. That was on Saturday.

On Monday I was texting with a friend and while it may seem odd that we have these types of conversations via text, it's really quite normal for us. We also talk plenty and have face to face time so it's not as odd as it may seem. I texted her..."I seriously have no fight left." She responded, "Maybe that is where He wants you so He can fight."

Perhaps she's right. In any case, it gives me a new opportunity to think through the questions before I ask. Maybe this time I'll verbalize the right ones.

A Child's Wisdom

About 10 days ago I sat on a porch swing with 2 young friends. One is 7 and I'll refer to her as "S"; the other is 10 and I'll refer to her as "Z". It was a clear, beautiful mountain evening and we had been swinging for 2 or 3 minutes when "Z" looked over and said:

"Miss Julie, we only need to be afraid of bears here, right?"

Not wanting them to be freaked out or unreasonable I replied, "well, not afraid as much as aware they could be around. We also need to be smart about it."

She seemed to accept that answer when "S" said, "And mountain lions. We need to be afraid of them too. They jump on you and bite the back of your neck."

Z said, "Well, if a mountain lion bites my neck I'm going to bite his ear!"

S: "You can't bite his ear because you'll be dead."

Z: "Well, dying isn't so bad. It's just your body that dies. My spirit is going to heaven because I know Jesus. Plus, I'll come back with a body to rule with Jesus when He comes back."

I sat there dumbfounded and eeked out a very quiet, "You're right, Z, you're absolutely right." I put my arm around her shoulder, hugged her close to me and kissed the top of her head.

The truth is, I have been fairly afraid of death these past few months. Not so much the being dead part but rather the dying part. I know I'm ready spiritually for the afterlife but I'm just not ready to leave Steve yet...or my family...or my friends. I just don't feel like I'm done yet.

I actually had to seek some counsel about this a few months ago because this particular fear is contradictory to my faith. I was assured that this is normal although the person who counseled me said most of the time he has that conversation with someone in their 70's or 80's. He further said it's one of those things that really catapults a person's spiritual growth and until we come to terms with it, we aren't ready to fully and completely live. That provided some comfort.

But here was this 10-year-old who gets it. She has no fear. As I told her mom about this conversation she got tears in her eyes. It isn't the first time she's heard that. Apparently the two of them have had similar conversations. "Z" says things like, "I'm ready to go, mom." I can't even imagine! I would cry too.

Simply amazing is the only way I can describe this child's faith and wisdom. I believe this is why the Apostle Paul told Timothy in 1 Timothy 4:12 (ESV) to "let no one despise you for your youth."

So, as I continue to work my way through this fear and come to terms with my mortality, this conversation rings over and over in my brain. No doubt I'll arrive, hopefully with as much grit and tenacity as my young friend.

Denial From Out of the Blue

Last week as we drove home from a few days at a mountain retreat something hit me from clear out of the blue.

My mind started to wander in this direction after I listened to the voice mails that had accumulated while I was gloriously out of cell service. One of them was from a woman at the doctor's office. We'd been playing phone tag and while I told her I'd be out for a few days, she called anyway. Her purpose was to schedule me for a particular treatment. Actually an undetermined series of treatments. She also said she had the "approximate cost share" I would have to pay.

Because it was the very news I had been dreading, I decided I would wait and call her back the next day. I just wasn't ready. From the day I sat in the office and he told me about the treatment I cried. The nurse was so compassionate but nothing she said would make it better. I appreciated the effort though.

But aside from the cost (which I didn't know the exact details of that day), why was I so opposed to this particular treatment? I stared out the window for miles and asked myself that very question over and over. Why? Like a ton of bricks the answer fell in my lap. I turned to Steve and said, "you want to know something?" Before he even answered I said, "Cost is only part of the reason I am opposed to what Dr. A wants to do." He asked, "what's the other part?"

"I don't want to do it because it's what sick people do," I replied on the verge of tears. He briefly looked over and said, "well, you ARE sick." I stared at him as if he'd thrown ice cold water in my face. No, I am not, I thought. But that's not true. I am. Through a stream of tears I said, "I'm not ready to concede that yet. I don't want to be."

The ever practical man sitting in the driver's seat stated, "It really doesn't matter what you WANT to believe. You ARE sick."

And there it is. Denial in its most ubiquitous form. I am thrown way off guard with this realization. I don't know what to do with it yet.

Prone to Wander

I think I've told Steve at least 20 times the past couple months that we need to move. I don't particularly care if we move to a different house, a different city or different state. Well, I do have my preferences as to cities and states but the point is that the entire thing just doesn't make sense. This bothers me.

I actually love my house--the location, the layout, the size...BUT...I just want to run away. Granted, I've always been a bit of a wanderer. I love to go places I've never been and actually have a perceived need to do so. My sister has tried to convince me it's not a need but to me, it is. My dad is one of the few people who understood this about me. One time as he was dropping me off at the airport, he said "Go and see but don't forget to come home. My girl just can't stay put, can she?" No, I really can't. So, as you might imagine, this whole new case of itchy feet has caused me to miss my dad terribly.

Last week as I mentioned this to Steve for the bazillionth time, I asked him "why do you think it is I have this need to move?"

"Because you don't feel well," he replied.

"What does that mean?" I asked.

"Going places is exciting for you and it changes your perspective. You think it will make things better," he said.

I thought about it for a few minutes and I came to the conclusion he's right. Although my thinking is incorrect, it's plausible that for a few days, weeks or months a new location will help me forget about it.

I don't want to be sick anymore. I don't want to go to another doctor, have another test, pay another medical bill. I don't want to melt down again. I want it to go away. And until it does, I would really rather not even leave the house. I am safe and comfortable here. I am accepted here. I am loved--even when I've fallen apart at the seams and sit in a puddle of tears.

I want to be normal, whatever that means. I've watched people a lot lately and wondered to myself, "what's it like to do (fill in the blank) without forethought or struggle?" "What if you could just run here or there without worrying about the side effects?" "Why do I have to be such a freak?"

The emotional & mental toll that comes with a chronic illness is just as painful as the physical pain....it's just that no one sees it, few understand it, and the agitation is always barely hidden under the surface.

For me it comes out in the need to wander, to run away and while it seems contradictory, to hole up in the house and never leave again. But even if I do--whether for a minute or a year, it will be waiting when I return. There is no escape. I must deal with it, regardless of whether I like it or want it.

This is the dichotomy of my life these days.

Completely, Utterly, Gloriously Broken

I've been thinking a lot about brokenness lately. The latest incident that made me come to what I think is new insight happened Saturday. I broke a couple of my toes...two of them on my left foot. I thought it was 3 but alas, the third one is fine. A friend, who is a nurse, confirmed for me yesterday they are indeed broken. I had no intention of going to the doctor for it but since he knows his stuff, why not?

This physical brokenness isn't really the focus of my musings but it helped me pull some things together. I actually said to Steve, "oh for crying out loud, when am I going to get a break anyway?" I'm sure you can anticipate his answer. "Well, you kind of did get a break, literally." I so did not think it was funny then and I still don't.

What made me first think about brokenness happened earlier this year when someone completely broke my heart. At the time I didn't focus on it too much because physically I just wasn't able. I had to focus on getting better. But since I've started a treatment plan and am feeling more normal, I began to want answers and justification for her decision but they didn't really come. I eventually did get some answers but they didn't help me out. People far wiser than me told me not to go searching because I wouldn't get the real truth, only perception at best and lies at worst, and they were right. I should have listened. That only led to further brokenness.

Sadly, this happens in ministry more often than it should. Sometimes God moves people in and out of my life and the purposes and results are far greater. But that's not what I'm talking about here. I miss my friend and wish her well but I just know she's made a bad choice. This leads to even more brokenness. But I can't take that on. It's hers to bear. I just don't want to watch it either.

So between these breaks in my heart (and that was just 1 example) and the actual break of my toes, I have realized something. It isn't until I get to the point of complete brokenness that I can be made completely whole. I've been holding back parts of my being from full service. What I'm holding it back for is a mystery. I mean, really, how is that going to benefit me? But, selling all out for the furtherance of God's plan for me, that not only benefits me but scores of others. Most of them I probably don't even know yet.

I've also realized that I can't depend on those around me to keep me whole. They will let me down. And as an aside, I will let them down too. If I let those incidents affect how or why I minister to people, the rest of my time in ministry will be like a roller coaster depending on what others do. That's ridiculous. It's not fair to others who truly need to be ministered to and it handicaps me or even paralyzes me from going on.

The only brokenness that is beneficial is when I'm broken over the lost or broken over my own sin. God has brought me to this point for me to recognize that I have not been sold out, that I am hanging on too tight to things and that it's time for me to let go.

And let God.....what? He gets to fill in that sentence. Not me.

A Snippet From My Soul

Normally my journal posts are for me but sometimes they are public, particularly after the lesson has been learned. This is one of those times when I feel the potential help to someone else is worth the vulnerability plus it dishonors nobody and does not divulge a confidence. I "un-personalized" the form of some of the thoughts and questions so it isn't quite so awkward to read. Here's a look into the the pages of my journal that reflects the agony of my soul...

For the last couple of days I’ve been pondering this one question…what will (or would) I look like bald? A few of us were talking yesterday (Sunday) about the intricate details God knows about us and how valuable we are. It all stemmed from the verse in Matthew (see post bottom) that references God knowing how many hairs are on our heads. One of the guys commented “well, mine are less than when we started talking about it.” I was already struggling with that thought silently... agonizing over it actually. It must be a full time job for God to keep track of the hairs on my head given the rapidity of their departure from my head.

A couple of weeks ago I wept as I lay in bed at this very thought…I am going to be bald. Steve just held on to my hand and listened as I lamented and sort of grieved over it—even though the process is slow(ish) and it hasn't happened yet. I asked, “Doesn’t it make you sad that I am losing my hair?” He said, “No, but it makes me sad that it makes you sad.” I then asked, “Will you still love me when I’m bald?” That might sound like a ridiculous question but I badly needed the reassurance. He said, “of course I’ll love you.” The truth is he loves me no matter what. We’ve been through a LOT over the years. He wiped the tears from my face. I must have cried for another 5 minutes before I fell asleep.

When I’m in that really good place of recognizing what’s important in life and what is not, I can easily see that losing my hair is not the worst thing that can happen to someone. But let’s face it—I am human like everyone else and a woman losing her hair is traumatic. It’s not insurmountable but it can be almost too much to bear. I also know there are women losing their hair for reasons far worse than mine…like cancer. In spite of everything, I have those days when I really can’t stand the thought.

It makes me smile that I’ve had 4 people tell me they want to go wig shopping with me IF the time comes it’s necessary. I have overwhelming support although the only person who has agreed to shave their head bald with me is Steve; everyone else is a definite “no”. Yet I’m sad. When will the blows stop coming? When will God recognize that I’ve already had more than I can bear? Or am I stronger than I think because it’s not me but Christ in me? It’s not about what I can handle but what God wants to handle through me. For His glory….it’s not about me. I am just the object of the lesson. A bald lesson, perhaps, but a lesson nonetheless.

Matthew 10:29-31 “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore, you are of more value than many sparrows.”

Oh, yes, I am valuable indeed. Even without a hair on my head I am valuable. That doesn’t mean I won’t cry over it. Again. And again. And maybe again. I guess it just means my tears over it are valuable too. God cares about them because He cares about me and everything that troubles me. 1 Peter 5:7 “Casting all your anxieties on Him for He cares for you.”

Honoring Mom

May just seems to be the time when we are "supposed to" honor our mothers. For reasons I will not fully disclose, I don't generally care for Mother's Day. Part of it could be rebellion--I don't like it when someone tells me I must do something. But most of it is far more personal than that. As an aside, it's better than it used to be. A few year's ago I would have said I HATE Mother's Day. Small steps...small steps....

For me, May also happens to be my mom's birthday. Actually, it's today, the 25th. And on this 25th day of May, mom's birthday, she came over to clean my house. For the zillioneth time this year. I tried to tell her it was ridiculous to spend her birthday morning cleaning her own house, let alone mine but she insisted it was her birthday and she could do whatever she wanted. One in a long line, she said.

May was also the month my parents were married and the 17th would have been their 42nd anniversary. That would be another reason to honor her (and dad but we're talking about mom here) and the commitment she had to her marriage and family.

So, I have many reasons to honor my mother this month. But the reason I'm filled with an urgent need to do so now is actually due to events in the past several months. It's because of what she does on those days that have no special significance that minister to my soul, calm my spirit and bring bursts of happiness to my world. My mom is an "acts of service" kind of gal. She has been cleaning my house because I'm not able to do it myself. She makes Steve cookies because he loves them and I've not had the stamina to do it. She painted my house because I can't hold a brush and it was driving me crazy to leave it incomplete. And so much more.

A couple of months ago mom went with me to one of my tests because Steve could not. It wasn't supposed to be a big deal and I had planned to go alone. But she insisted. And I'm so glad she did. The tests were horrific. The pain nearly unbearable. Each one took 30 minutes and 10 minutes into the first I laid on the table with tears streaming down my face. The poor technician felt terrible, she asked if I wanted to stop, she said sorry but none of that helped. I finally whispered "can you please get my mom from the waiting room?" I thought perhaps some conversation would keep me pre-occupied and make it seem as if the time were going faster. A few minutes later she walked in the room, sat on a stool by my bed, held my hand and stroked my hair.

"It'll be okay," she said. "You can do this. WE can do this." And the next 20 minutes went just like that. "You're doing great!" "It's almost over!" I felt like a little girl all over again trusting my mom to tell me the truth and her strength pulled me through. Then we started the second test and it began all over again. "Hey, you're doing better on this one!" "We're just about there!" And then it was over. It was the last of my tests so she drove to the drugstore, told me to wait in the car and a few minutes later she emerged with some pain pills and a diet soda so I could take them immediately.

I said "mom, sorry I was such a baby before and that you had to listen to me cry." She said, "no need to be sorry. I'm just sorry I couldn't fix it for you. That's not easy for a mom to watch." It never occurred to me it would be just as rough on her as it was on me but it was. Yet she stuck it out. I'll never forget it.

A week later, on a Sunday, I couldn't get out of bed. Steve left for church and while we realize it's his job, I have a hunch he would have preferred to stay with me that day. But we both understand the deal. He asked me to call my mom and have her come over. I did so immediately after he left. I told her to let herself in because I couldn't get out of bed. A mere 20 minutes later she was standing in my bedroom. She put one arm under my neck; the other under my back and gently lifted me to a seated position. Steve had done this every day for a month already but this was different. She kept holding on as I leaned into her, tears streaming down my face. The pain was intense, the realization of my complete dependence was more than I could bear. She said "I know it's horrible. I wish I could make it go away. Let me help you into the shower--you'll feel better." She turned on the water, helped me in, then sat on my bed and waited for me. She came to help wash my hair, then sat back down, trying to help me retain as much dignity as possible.

She helped me dress then put me in the chair and scrambled some eggs. She sat with me watching movies until Steve got home at 1. "That's what moms do," she said as she left. "It's no big deal. I'm happy to do it."

All her children are long grown and out of the house but the role of mom has never stopped for her. Sure, it has changed, but in times of crisis, despair and hurt it reverts to the nurturing, protective mother hen. I'm not actually sure it's reverting TO something but more likely something that is always there, perhaps masked by the boundaries she doesn't cross with her adult children....until necessary.

So on this day of my mother's birth I honor her and thank God for her. I wish I had the words to fully express the emotions of my heart. I'd bet everything I have that she knows even though I can't.

Cans of Lysol and a Roller

One of the things I haven't talked about too much is the Sunday I fell at church. I still don't want to talk about it much. But that day one of my favorite people in the world saw it and lovingly stood to the side to give me a hug. He's 100 years old and I adore him--his lovely 90-year-old bride too.

That day he apparently went home and told her what happened. Later that week she left a message on Steve's voice mail telling me she'd heard we had something in common and said she'd love to visit with me if I had time. Because I didn't feel well at all, I delayed calling her a couple of weeks. This is also to my shame. But, almost 2 weeks ago I just decided to sit down and call her. In her humility she said "well, Julie, I'm 90 years old and I can't remember exactly why I called or what we have in common besides both being women." It tickled me pink. As it turns out, she had heard I have MS (I do not praise God!). She does. We had such a great conversation. As a matter of fact before we hung up, she said "it was such a delight in my afternoon to talk to a younger woman. Thank you so kindly for calling." My heart melted.

In spite of the fact that we didn't have what she thought we did in common, she still had some advice for me and I gladly listened. I mean, really, I have no pre-conceived notion that I know it all and that I don't need advice and mentoring from older women. That would be foolish, not to mention contradictory to scripture. In any case, she said "here's the best things you can do for yourself. Always have cans of Lysol on hand and get yourself a roller."

A roller? My mind began to swarm, wondering what in the world she was talking about and I had to consciously push those swirling thoughts to the side so I could concentrate on what she was saying about the Lysol. She told me how her husband brings home all kinds of germs after listening to kids says their verses in Awana. As an aside, I am so inspired by the fact that this 100-year-old man still actively serves in the church. That's the way it should be. Anyway, because her immune system is weakened, as is mine, she sprays the entire house when he comes home. As a matter of fact, she told me she's thought about spraying him too! Totally cracked me up. She said "some may say my house stinks because of it but I don't care a wit. I've got to take care of myself and you do too."

Back to the roller. "Get yourself a roller," she said. "I got mine for almost nothing and it's saved me in so many ways. I can bend over (I'm not sure but I think she was truly bending over while talking to me - as if I could see it) and pick stuff up off the floor and get over to the refrigerator and back to the table without any pressure on my legs." Ah, I thought, she means a wheelchair! Indeed she did. She said when she saves her legs the wear and tear, they work pretty well when she needs them to.

I don't need a wheelchair but I was so delighted by her caring manner that I didn't have the heart to tell her so. I thanked her for her wisdom and encouragement and after some more chit-chat, the conversation ended. That day was such a bright spot in my week and I was truly sorry I hadn't done it sooner.

So much wisdom and life reside within the confines of her frail frame. She doesn't get out like she used to or as much as she would like. My generation is so busy being involved in everything that we easily overlook the simple things we could do like making a 5-minute phone call to encourage women just like her. In return we miss the oodles of wisdom and mentoring she longs to offer. This is one of just many, many lessons I am learning during this season. Yes, it's about my physical health but so much more. I am bursting.

No, Not Really Going To Do That

Just yesterday after I told this story to a friend she quipped "you and Steve have to have great senses of humor to be together." Another friend said "it's so great you can laugh about these things and at the same time Steve is so helpful." Both are so true! Here's what happened.

Friday night I took the first dose of the second medication they are trying out on me. I had begun the first medication 3 days prior. The nurse recommended I take it at night because while adjusting to it, I can apparently feel quite sick and that way I'd sleep through most of it. Okay, I thought, makes sense.

BUT, then I read the papers they gave me about all the possible side effects, yada yada. That may very well have been a mistake. One of the things in there read "if while taking the medication you develop a temperature of 101, seek medical attention immediately because it means you are developing a serious infection from it and it could be fatal." Nice. So then I began to think taking it at night was a really bad idea because how would I know if I were to develop said fever / infection? I wouldn't and hence, the end of Julie.

I told Steve all my concerns and he said "really, Julie, if you develop a fever like that, you'll probably wake up. Besides, they have to tell you all that to cover themselves. It's not going to happen." Then I had an ingenious idea. Here's the conversation:

J: "Okay, how about this...set the alarm on your phone to wake up every 2 hours and then you can check my temperature and make sure I'm fine."

S: "Alright." I turned to walk away when it dawned on me he probably wasn't going to do it.

J: "You are so not going to do that, are you?" I said as I turned to face him. He was shaking his head slowly as he dragged out a big...

S: "N-n-n-o-o-o!"

J: "Okay, fine. Then at my funeral you have to stand up and tell everyone the reason I'm dead is because you wouldn't wake up and check my temperature." As I said the last few words I turned to walk to the sink to brush my teeth.

S: "Alright," he said again. I turned back to face him.

J: "You're not really going to do that either, are you?"

S: "N-n-n-o-o," he said again as he shook his head. "But it's okay because you'll be dead so you won't know nor will you care."

J: "Nice."

The next morning he woke me up just before 8 to say he was going for a run. It took me about an hour to get up and around and as I walked into the living room he came in from his run. He looked right at me and said....

S: "Look who's not dead!"

J: "Obviously."

That's all there is to the story except fits of laughter of course.

It Must Be Like Having A Meal With a 3-Year-Old

I have learned so much over the past 4 months I could likely put it all in a 300-page book. And I probably will, mostly for myself, so as never to forget the journey we're taking.

As Steve and I had lunch together today I thought to myself, "dining with me must be like having a meal with a 3-year-old." Really. Truly. I ordered a chicken enchilada. As soon as it arrived I did what is customary these days and asked Steve to cut it up for me. Not only are my hands fairly unusable lately but I'm using a sling to relieve the pressure on my muscle from where they took the biopsy Tuesday. It's my left arm so asking a lefty to eat right handed is a joke all by itself but add to that the inability to really grasp the fork and I'm sure it's something to watch. This is no big deal to Steve and most often he offers before I even ask but it's hard just the same.

And I'm keenly aware of those around me. I'm certain most of them aren't making fun of the fact that I can't cut up my own food but they do notice, likely make judgments on why that is and it makes me so uncomfortable. The truth is, I would probably notice and wonder if I saw one adult cut up the food of another one. It's normal. But when it's me, I can barely hold back the tears. That's my one certainty these days--the ability to cry at almost anything.

Steve frequently tells me, "You know Julie, they aren't watching you nearly as much as you think they are. It's in your head." And I think he's right. Sure, a few may notice here and there but mostly I would have to agree (if really pressed) that it's not the ENTIRE restaurant!

But here's the one that really bothered me. A couple of weeks ago I went to a dinner meeting and ordered grilled chicken breast with pasta. I didn't think twice about it until the plate was placed in front of me. Instantly I panicked. How the heck was I going to eat that chicken? Should I just pick it up with my fingers and gnaw on it? I'm not quite used to having to think about this type of thing before I order. I looked around at the table and everyone else was eating. Good. Nobody had noticed the sheer panic on my face. Fortunately I was seated next to one of my closest friends. I leaned over and whispered, "would you mind cutting my chicken for me?" I was on the verge of tears and utterly appalled that I need this kind of help at my age.

"Of course!" she replied. Without making a big deal she took my knife and fork and cut it up then asked if I needed anything else. A few of the ladies noticed but nobody made a deal of it. I proceeded to eat my meal and we had a such a nice time I kind of put it in the back of my mind until we walked out. We got to her car and I said "Thanks for helping me in there and not making me feel like a fool for asking." The tears were no longer on the verge but were streaming down my face. She hugged me and said "it was really not a big deal. I do it for my grandson all the time!" I half laughed in my tears and said "I know, that's the problem - he's 3 and I am so NOT 3!" She laughed and said "that's what friends are for - don't think another thought about it."

She gave me back what I stupidly threw to the side as I requested help - my dignity. One of the things I've had to learn how to do is accept help from others and when I am able, to give it back freely while helping them to maintain their dignity. Even recalling this incident has made me cry all over again. If there's such a thing as "blubbering idiot disease" I most definitely have it.

Fighting For It

Something happened this week that has turned into a story I love to tell. Initially I was a bit annoyed by it but by the time we had small group that night I'd already begun to find humor in it. Then when I told the story and everyone laughed, I further knew it truly was funny. But, it also has a lesson for me.

These past few months have been such a strain on my ability to function and I've found a few work-arounds that make my life a bit easier. One of them is that getting in and out of the recliner is easier than the sofa. But that afternoon I sat down on the sofa anyway. Steve came home and was in one of the chairs typing away on his computer and I tried to get up so I could get some stuff ready for our small group before they arrived.

I grunted, groaned, grumbled and struggled to try to get up off the sofa. I looked over at Steve who continued to type without much attention to me. Finally I said, "Really? You're not going to help me?" He looked over, almost as if he hadn't noticed I was there before. He said "no, you have to fight for it." This is where people generally bust a gut laughing and rightly so because that's funny stuff.

But at that moment, man, I was annoyed...partly because I was frustrated at my physical limitations these days and partly because he's been so good about helping me out over the past several weeks. Now all of a sudden I'm supposed to fight for it and do it alone?

Now it's not like he would've left me there forever had I really been in a bind but if he just jumps in every single time I struggle, I will become far too dependent on him to sustain me. And it would be extremely easy for me to wander back into what I've come to call the "Valley of Self Pity". I so don't need to be there.

The truth is I have to learn (or re-learn) how to do things by myself, even if it hurts or is uncomfortable. I can't have somebody at my side at all times to do things for me. And I have to learn what things I have to let go because I can no longer do them.

This is definitely an interesting season of my life. It's a season of crisis, a season of blessing, a season of suffering, a season of growth and a season of thankfulness all wrapped in one. I may even be missing a thing or two but that wraps it up fairly well.

In some ways I have to fight for my faith. I have to fight the urge to give up, run away, and throw in the proverbial towel. But if I quit half way, I will miss all the blessings God has in store for me at the end. I will miss the ability to be blessed by some and to bless others. There is great opportunity in every aspect of suffering as long as I can get out of myself long enough to let God use it for good.

I'm a Big Girl, I'm a Big Girl...

The most recent study I'm going through is "Big Girls Don't Whine" by Jan Silvious. Part of what I've challenged the ladies to do is pay attention to those times when they are tempted to be "little girls" in any given situation.

For anyone not familiar with this book, it's about identifying those habits and behaviors where we act like little girls who just want their way, can't think outside of themselves, and think the world revolves around them. In contrast, big girls take responsibility for themselves and any given situation, think of others before themselves, don't blame their feelings on others, etc. You get the point?

So, the last couple of weeks I've been keenly aware of a few situations that cause me to want to throw a big fit because things aren't going my way. Today was a classic example.

We went to Lowe's with Erica because she wanted to buy some doors and hardware for her bedroom. After we checked out, I thought the total seemed pretty high so we pulled out the receipt to take a peek. Well, the total was correct but we discovered that one of the 9 hinges she bought was different than the others. Okay, no big deal, it happens sometimes. Things get put in the wrong bin.

We walked into the store and went to get a correct one so when we got to the front of the return / exchange line we could take care of the entire transaction. We stood in line for 4-5 minutes while the people in front of us got A-1 treatment. Then it was our turn. By this time 2 or 3 others were in line behind us. We explained what had happened and she returned the wrong one but then asked if we wanted cash or a credit to the debit card. Well, they were the same price so it should have been a wash but Erica told her to just do it on the debit card. She then handed us the new one and said "you'll have to go and check out in the lanes over there because there is a line behind you and I just don't have time to do it." Then she said something about it's not up to her, it's just the way it is. Yeah right.

REALLY? Are you stinkin' kidding me? We were in the return / EXCHANGE line. How difficult would it have been for her to scan the new one, get a total of zero and out we go? Instead, she did a complete return, printed a receipt for Erica to sign and then sent us on our way. All of this for $2.58. I was furious. I was so tempted to tell her to go get her manager and then all of those people would have had to wait longer. It is so not their policy, I can almost guarantee it because I've done exchanges there too many times to count.

She simply didn't want to do it. And I was annoyed. Erica was annoyed. My little girl was screaming to get out and pitch a fit. I fought hard although I think I could have stood firm and still had big girl behavior. I let her control the nonsense situation when I should have done it.

This whole big girl / little girl thing is a tough one. I see it in women around me every day. I'm a huge proponent of this book and recommend it to every woman I know. I've come to believe the biggest problem for most adult women is that they act like little girls in their relationships, their jobs and their behavior. It is not becoming, not even a little bit.

Even Though...God is....

This post is a direct result of a song I heard while driving the other day. I actually don't know the title but the phrases that caused me to think about my "thought closet" (to use a phrase from my most recent Bible study) were as follows:

"Though my world is shaking, heaven stands....still...Though my heart is breaking, I'm always in Your hands."

Anyone else singing it?

Plain and simple, that is truth. My thought closet is lacking truth. One thing I've learned through this last study and through this current difficult situation in my life is that there is stuff in my heart I am not pleased to find there. When squeezed, it's just oozing out and I'm not liking it at all. Discarding that junk will be part of the victory as I journey on this path.

But more than that, I've challenged myself to replace the lies I'm believing with truth. I'm purposely leaving out the "even though" portion because these can apply to each of us at different times and I encourage you to fill in the beginning part of the statement yourself.

Even though....The Lord will guide you always, He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame (Isa 58:11).

Even though...Praise the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits - who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases (Ps 103:2-3).

Even though...Heal me, O Lord and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise.

Even though...My flesh and heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever. (Ps 73:26).

Even though...My God will meet all your needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus (Phil. 4:19).

Even though...I will bless her with abundant provisions; her poor will I satisfy with food (Ps 132:15).

So, those are a few of the "Even though..God is..." statements I'm working on. I'd love to hear yours!

Give Thanks

Normally ascribed to a post around Thanksgiving, this title may be misleading. The truth is we tend to think about thankfulness more around that time of year but it's truly an attitude we should have all day, every day.

I'm in a study with a few women about the heart. Our lesson Tuesday morning was on the attitude of the heart and gratefulness. Much of our problem with contentment is lack of thankfulness. If we learn to be thankful for the things we have, the friends we have, the family we have, and the blessings we receive, we will soon find we don't have much to complain about. Do we have as much as someone else? Of course not! Do we have more than others? Absolutely! There will always be someone we know who has more or who we perceive has more or better. But look the other direction and you'll find someone else who has less than you do....and may quite possibly be more content.

Matthew 12:34 tells us "For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks." To be quite honest, I haven't been 100% thrilled with what's come out of my mouth or at least mulled around in my head these past few challenging months. God is using this latest test to show me there is some stuff in my heart that needs to be cut out.

After having this lesson yesterday, today I was put to the test. Here's the story:

I arrived 15 minutes early today for my medical test, as requested by the facility. My appointment was scheduled for 11:30. My mom went with me because Steve didn't feel he could today and while I was totally prepared to go by myself, it was quite a blessing having her there.

Initially I was quite impressed as they had me all checked in and ready by 11:35. Having spent many, many hours in doctor's offices, I knew this was fairly unbelievable.

"Unheard of!" I thought to myself...yeah, right.

At 12:39 (yes to the minute) they came to get me. Normally I would have been annoyed at waiting over an hour for an appointment they had asked me to be 15 minutes early for in the first place. Today I was not. I was really enjoying the conversation with my mother and having taken my first dose of prednisone, I was actually not doing that poorly. As a funny aside, my mom had just stepped down the hall to use the restroom because we finally decided it would be forever before they came. Literally 30 seconds later the woman walked up to call me. Of course that would happen. I explained I was waiting for my mom to return and sit with the coats and purses. She asked who the appointment was for - me or my mom. I said "me". She told me to throw the coat over the purses and it would be fine. Um, no, not going to happen. I assured her she'd be right back. She told me in a disgusted voice that if I wasn't ready they'd have to come back later to get me. READY!?!? I'd been waiting over an hour! I smiled and simply said my mom would be back in just a minute and since it was already an hour past my appointment I didn't see harm in waiting just a minute for me. Amazingly, she did! And she wasn't even crabby at me either.

Okay, I'm getting to the relevant part but the set up will help you understand how truly amazing this is. We walked to the back where I sat in my 3rd waiting room. The door to the room was oversize and there was a phrase about 10-12 inches high and the width of the door in capital letters...."GIVE THANKS".

I honestly almost bawled. After she took more information from me she put a needle in my vein for the I.V. which was about the size of my little finger. Seriously, it was huge and I don't normally flinch or feel it being inserted but this one was something else. I looked up at her and said "you know, I don't like that so much." She smiled and said most people don't. She walked out of the room and as I waited another 10 or 15 minutes I gave thanks for everything I could think of until she came back, including having her as my technician.

This was God's reminder for me today to have an attitude of thankfulness, even though nothing was going as scheduled and it wasn't pleasant or comfortable but in the midst of it I have reason to be grateful. It was truly an amazing spiritual time while having a physical, medical test.

Mom and I then walked across the street and shared a $5 sub sandwich. I felt horrible for what I decided had wasted the bulk of her day but she honestly didn't mind. We had a fabulous time together before I dropped her off and headed home.

Thankfulness. It's such an easy concept to understand although more difficult to practice. If we just focus for a minute, we can find much to be grateful for every single day. This is a lifestyle habit I intend to become much better at. The result are quite probable to be eternal.

A Middle of the Night Revelation

I was awakened last night (well, actually early this morning) by the unbelievable pain that has become a part of my every day existence in this less than comfortable season of my life.

After spending all day yesterday sleeping and/or laying around, I tucked myself in bed just before 9 pm and was in a deep sleep shortly after. When I looked at the clock, it was 2:30 am and I was thoroughly disgusted. I knew by the way I felt it would be a long few hours while I waited for morning to come. I so hate that feeling and am glad it doesn't happen to me very often.

I knew there was no point in getting up to take anything because nothing is touching the pain and all it creates is a big stomach ache so I may as well just stay in the warmth of the blankets. As happens to me so easily these days, I began to softly cry, trying very hard not to wake Steve. I whispered "God, I don't understand. Please help me understand. I just need help." My spirit was in utter turmoil and as I continued to pray I felt the overwhelming peace God promises his children--the peace that passes all understanding. No, I did not get any answers into what is wrong with me or any divine diagnosis. I didn't get an audible answer but I knew in my spirit that God knows what is wrong. He knows how to fix it. Perhaps it's just not time. But He knows.

I also realized that for 2 months I've been telling myself, "just hang on until you get to the specialist. Then it will all be fine." That's a lie. That's a strong sentence to type, let alone say to yourself, but it's true. This has nothing to do with me getting into the specialist. He is not the end of the line. Nor is he the beginning. He simply is a method God may (or may not) choose to use to help my physical health. But there is nothing in the arsenal of a physician that will or won't work without the healing of God. He alone is the true physician. The others are merely conduits of His work. I inadvertently put my faith in this specialist to make me better. In essence, I am giving him potential glory that belongs solely to God. I shudder at this thought and how easily this process consumed me. I did not set out to do this. I didn't intend to put someone else in the place of God. And yet I have.

No, neither of these revelations healed me in my sleep--at least not physically. But they really catapulted me spiritually into a different place. Whether I experience a miraculous healing or I spend the next several years in some sort of treatment is yet to be seen. But I do know it's not hopeless and it's not the human agent(s) that will get me there.

Finally at 5:30 am I drifted off to sleep albeit for a mere 45 minutes before I had to get up for a doctor's appointment. And I feel better today than yesterday. Call me crazy (and you wouldn't be the first) but I attribute this to my spiritual breakthrough because it's really about the spiritual warfare going on all around me.

Now I wait for the medical answers. And I will continue to pursue testing as we deem appropriate. There will be good days and bad days. Some I may have to stay in bed, others I may be fortunate enough to get up and function. Most days I will have to depend on others to get me through and learn to accept help. But through it all, I must remain focused on the hope that resides in me. Not positive thinking and not a pull-myself-up-by-my-bootstrap mentality.

As a total aside, Steve has proven to me once again why he's my hero. Blondie, you know what you've had to do for me, day in and day out, and I am grateful beyond words. It's not easy to accept the kind of help you've had to provide and I'm so glad it's you. Thank you for not making me feel like a burden and having such tenderness I'm not humiliated beyond belief.

A Not-So-Simple Day of Rest

We left for vacation on Friday, January 29th but that day of flying was anything but restful. It wasn't horrible, mind you, it just isn't exactly restful bouncing from airport to airport. Saturday we made our way to the ship and spent much of the remainder of the day orienting ourselves to where everything was. Then it came. Sunday. I don't discount the fact that it was what we generally consider our weekly "day of rest" which for me, is anything BUT that.

That day, January 31, 2010 was completely different than nearly any other day, at least in recent memory. After breakfast Sara and I made our way up to the pool deck (aka Deck 11) with books and diet Coke in hand. I also had my camera, Bible, and study book. She lounged herself in the sun and within minutes I moved my chair to the comfort and safety of the shade (need I remind anyone of my freak lip thought to be caused in some cases by overexposure to sun?). Sometime later Steve appeared and told he had discovered Deck 4....the quiet deck where you could really hear the ocean and enjoy the quietness of gentle cruising, the only agenda for the entire day to get us to our first destination. Given how Deck 11 had become a bustling center of activity, I was more than ready and happy to retreat for a while.

I made my way to the elevator and glided to my haven of peacefulness. The chairs didn't lounge completely but I still found them more than comfortable, particularly with a second one drawn close for my feet. Steve pulled a chair to the rail (in the sun) and stuck his feet out for sunning. He so loves the heat--the hotter, the better for him. He's officially a nutball. I stayed back a few feet in the shade, opened my Bible and study book and did a few lessons. The warm Caribbean breeze was a welcome friend. By then Sara had joined me.

All of a sudden I was completely overwhelmed by a new thought--nearly to the point of tears. I turned my head to her and said, "I seriously have nothing to do today. Nothing I have to do anyway." She nodded. The thought so permeated my brain and soul I could hardly contain myself. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Nowhere to be, no cleaning, no cooking....did I mention nothing? I didn't even have to get out of bed that morning.

I rested, not in the sleep sense, but truly rested my mind and my spirit. I was nearly perfectly at peace with my sunglasses on, my iPod playing softly in my ears, and the wake of the boat drifting off behind me.

The essence of rest. The lesson was not lost on me although the logistics are lagging far behind. It's in Genesis where God tells us the importance of a day of rest. I mean, really, if God took one, shouldn't I? It's not that He needed it but rather an example He set for me because as my creator, He understands my physical need for rest. The irony of all ironies for me is that I used to take Sunday as a day of rest and I remember all too well how the rest of my week was so much better. Yet since our dive into full-time ministry I feel like I no longer have time. How ridiculous is that? Now, more than ever is when I need a day of rest.

But it's not so simple without removal from every day life. All I know is that I must figure it out because it's not likely such a vacation will come along frequently. This one was a true gift and provision from God himself, perhaps for this very reason.

Feeble Attempts at Staying Strong

There is nothing in the world that cane make me irrational quicker than health issues. Well, there is one group but I best not go there now. It doesn't matter how many almost positive things the doctor says, I become focused on the worst-case-scenario possibilities. Truly I think that makes me human, not abnormal.

For the past several months as I've struggled with various health issues, I have really attempted to be strong and run at whatever comes my way with unwavering faith. In my head I can plot it out perfectly and have the most amazing response. But in reality, I barely hold it together long enough to get to the car before the tears stream down my face. Today I didn't even make it out of the office.

My saving grace this afternoon was that Steve went along and just having him there makes me a little stronger. I can only imagine how I would have fallen apart had I been there alone. Truth be told, I am tired of going to the doctor. They are trying so hard to find a diagnosis yet while I wait I feel worse and worse. Today I found myself wondering why God has given me such a big job to do yet is making it physically impossible for me to do it.

I guess that's the point...God doesn't want me to do it. He wants to do it through me. And oh, what glory there will be when it's accomplished while I'm struggling with health problems! But I don't like it. I wish I could say "come what may" and learn whatever lessons I need to or be open to allowing someone else to learn a lesson through my tenacity. I would love to be strong regardless of how I feel. But for now, I'm weak. Not feeling well physically affects me mentally, emotionally, and spiritually.

Oddly, the financial aspect of all this has not even made me flinch. Part of it is because I have a flex spending, medical savings kind of account but even so, this is huge progress for me. I'll pay it when I can, as much as I can and regularly but I'm not worried about it even a little. And with that I'll rejoice and close this post because I'm so swollen I can barely move my fingers.