The Slightest Encouragement

Last week I was battling one of my infamous lip episodes. Even though I caught this one earlier than the others, it still took a toll on my face. The other two were humdingers with my lip hanging down to my chin so in comparison, this one was nothing.

But to me it was definitely something. I'm generally self-conscious so any anomaly is going to be intensified hundreds of times over. By Sunday it was not nearly as noticeable as it had been and people who know me well and know how obsessed I was about it kept telling me it really wasn't a big deal.

And then the most encouraging thing happened. From about 30 feet away I saw a young woman I admire greatly and am always encouraged by. No matter what happens in her life, she stands strong and declares how great God is in the midst of it. Surely she has her moments but you'd never really know it. She waved at me, took her finger and circled her face declaring "you look beautiful!"

"It's my new curling iron!" I exclaimed. She laughed and said it had nothing to do with that. There was not a hint of sarcasm or anything phony in what she said. She meant it and I knew it. I almost bawled right there in front of everyone. She had no idea what was whirling around in that brain of mine. We chatted a moment and then I had to return to my post where I was serving so we parted ways.

She had no idea how that small sentence impacted my entire week. Last night at the Ladies Christmas Party I had the opportunity to tell her how much I appreciated that comment and why. In the midst of a "feel crummy, looking crummy, self-conscious" kind of week, she saw something in me that made her declare its beauty whereas all I could see was a glaring imperfection negatively affecting every thought of myself.

You know, I do what I can to paint the barn (so to speak) but I know for certain this face will never walk a runway. Nor do I have any desire for that. However, if someone can look at me and see any kind of beauty, no matter how small, I declare victory. For I know in and of myself that any beauty I exude is only because of Christ in me. He is beautiful and he's making me beautiful. A beauty that not only lasts as the wrinkles come but actually grows.

Such great hope is found in the slightest encouragement. You never know what that one kind word or deed will do for someone's day, week, month, year or life. It's always worth the time.

Grace and Mercy...A Life Lesson

One thing about taking the same route to work every day is that eventually you begin to pay less and less attention to your surroundings. I first became aware of this years ago after my dad had a heart attack. The doctor asked him if he drove the same route to work every day. He said yes. The doctor then told him that by varying your route, you can reduce stress and it also decreases your chance of an accident as you pay closer attention on roads you don't drive as often. It actually makes complete sense.

What doesn't make sense for me is to change my route because it will add a lot more time and waste gas as I virtually have a straight road between my home and the office. That being said, I found myself fairly unaware of my surroundings as I drove home today. While still in the church parking lot I checked my voicemail. Since I don't have a bluetooth and it's against the law to be on the phone while driving, I no longer do that. But I was in a private lot and I drove off without even thinking about being on the phone. I headed down Monad and before I realized it, a police car was headed towards me and the lights flashed. I knew instantly it was for me. He did a quick u-turn and pulled over behind me as I pulled to the curb.

NUTS! I was suddenly aware of the phone in my ear. Hadn't thought a thing about it up until then. I put the phone down. He walked up to the car and after our courteous greetings here's what happened (he will be "P", I will be "J"):

P: Where you headed?

J: Home.

P: Do you have your driver's license on you?

J: Sure. (as I dug it out as he said....)

P: I first clocked you at 43 (I was in a 35) and when you hit 45 I had to pull you over.

J: Sorry, I wasn't really paying attention.

P: Julie, do you have your registration and insurance?

J: Yes. (I handed it to him).

P: You still at XXX Drive?

J: Yes.

P: When was the last time you were pulled over for speeding?

J: Not sure, but sometime around 1990 when there was no speed limit and the tickets were $5 (seriously, that's true...$5 tickets on the highway during that time).

P: Okay, let me check everything out, make sure you don't have warrants and aren't a terrorist and then I'll be back with a warning.

J: Okay, thanks. (VERY RELIEVED)

He walked away. It wasn't about the phone at all! Not that speeding is better. I texted Steve "NUTS! I got pulled over." "For what?" "45 in a 35." Then a friend called and since I was no longer driving, I picked it up and said "hey, gotta call you back, I've been pulled over." He laughed.

The officer walked back up and said, "Well, you're good to go. Everything is in order as it should be. I'm giving you a warning. Hopefully this will slow you down."

J: Thanks. Sorry about that, I guess I just wasn't paying attention. Crazy thing is, I'm not even in a hurry.

P: *laughs* Have a good night.

J: You too.

He walked away and I drove off, very thankful for the grace and mercy he gave me. He could have given me a ticket and I totally deserved it. But because I had all the proper requirements and I think, in part, because I was so courteous and honest, he gave me a warning instead. Steve used to do that all the time when he was a deputy. If someone was nice, honest, respectful and had everything they were required to have he would give them a warning. If, however, they didn't have a license or insurance or current registration, or were particularly rude and offensive, that was a different story. I used to tell him all the time he was a softie. "Hang 'em!" I declared.

Today I was as grateful to that officer as those who Steve showed grace and mercy surely were. And I think maybe because Steve had shown that to so many others during those years, I received a bit of the "comes around" today. That's how it works....we give grace to others who in turn give it to others who in turn give it back to us. And the cycle continues.

That cycle begins with the grace and mercy God has given first. Undeserved yet so freely given. I thought of that the last few blocks home. Today I received a human version to remind me of the far greater grace and mercy I have been given yet don't contemplate nearly enough. If I did, I would far more quickly extend that to others who unintentionally (or even intentionally) hurt me, say things to damage me and get under my skin. I would be in quite a fix if God so quickly and easily removed His grace or mercy from me. I think we all would.

Let's Return to The Simplicity of Christmas

The last couple of days I've read and listened in disbelief to the stories of sleep deprived, irritated, angry and out-of-their-mind shoppers on Black Friday. Their behavior is incomprehensible. Ever since I read last year about the store employee trampled to death by sale obsessed shoppers as the doors were opened I've thought we'd certainly lost our minds. How could person after person run over the top of another human being with no regard for their safety or welfare, all in the name of getting a few dollars off? Have we completely lost all grip on reality?

This year people were pepper sprayed, bloodied, robbed and looted all in the name of getting the best bargain for Christmas. Has everyone forgotten what Christmas is really all about? Is there no goodwill to be found?

The last few years I have been fairly uninterested in all the Christmas hoopla. There are several reasons for that and not one of them means I have grown to hate Christmas. Nothing could be farther from the truth. The year Steve was in Iraq it didn't make sense to put up a tree and decorate knowing I would be spending the holidays elsewhere. That's what started my trek to a simpler Christmas. Then a couple of years ago marked the beginning of my health decline and I did not have the energy to get out of the chair, let alone decorate the house. So we didn't. But we still celebrated what Christmas is really about, just without all the modern day fanfare. We didn't even buy presents that year. And we survived. Dare I say thrived?

In those days Caesar August issued a decree that a census should be taken of the entire Roman world. This was the first census that took place while Quirinius was governor of Syria. And everyone went to his hometown to register. So Joseph also went up from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to Bethlehem the town of David, because he belonged to the house and line of David. He went there to register with Mary, who was pledged to be married to him and was expecting a child. While they were there, the time came for the baby to be born, and she gave birth to her firstborn, a son. She wrapped him in cloths and placed him in a manger, because there was no room for them in the inn. And there were shepherds living out in the fields nearby, keeping watch over their flocks at night. An angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord. This will be a sign to you. You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger." ~ Luke 2:1-12

This is the very meaning of Christmas. While all those shoppers seek to find the "perfect" gift for over-indulged children and adults alike, the truth is the "perfect" gift was a one time occurrence. This time of year so many are stressed, frustrated, angry and depressed. There isn't enough money, not enough gifts when really we have far too much. People seek to find happiness in getting and giving when the real happiness is found in receiving.....receiving that perfect gift God gave us so long ago--a Savior born in a manger, wrapped in cloths. Simplicity is the very way Christmas began. We have complicated it.

And so I call for a return to the simplicity of Christmas.

Getting A Grip

"Julie, you are in one of those places again," she gently chided.

There are a few people in my life who I trust enough to believe wholeheartedly when they tell me the truth--even when it's hard. Perhaps even more when it's difficult to hear, let alone say. Yet they are brave enough to risk a friendship and confront me with things in my life that I am completely unable to see.

These relationships are rare and take a long while to till the soil. I realize how fortunate I am to have them. It's only when I know they love me, deeply care about my journey and are committed to walk with me that I can be open to really listening to what they have to say. It's a definite risk as one never knows how the news will be received, or if it will be received. If the time is not right, such brutal honesty can end a friendship.

I've had a huge struggle over the past 12-18 months that at times has consumed my mind to the point of irrational thinking. Sometimes I can see it, sometimes not. But I know it's always there, waiting for those weak mental moments to devour my stability and sanity. I've shared it in small doses but only 2 or 3 people know the true depth of my struggle.

Last week as I was headed to an appointment, a friend of mine was on the phone and motioned for me to call her later. She was specifically interested in my doctor's appointment that day as I was on the verge of tears when we met for a bible study (of sorts). As we discussed what he said, which was actually not bad news, that nasty struggle reared its head and jumped right off my tongue. But she already knew it was lurking. She was waiting for it and it was obvious she followed the prompting of the Spirit to talk to me about it.

This isn't the first time she has had to confront me with truth. Several years ago she did so as I struggled with the desperate desire I had for a child. Then four years ago she did so again and that one we laugh about to this day. She said "I wanted you to do XYZ but you were being, well..." she trailed off. "A brat," I quipped. That's exactly what she was thinking and we both knew it. She was right. We laughed our heads off. But had she said it to me earlier, I would likely not be on speaking terms with her today. Timing is everything.

Back to last week. She said, "Julie, you're in one of those places again. If you don't get a grip on this sooner rather than later, it will take you years to tear down the walls you're building. You can't grow spiritually until you face it." In a strange dichotomy, it was as if a burden lifted and a ton of bricks fell on me at the same time.

She's absolutely right. I agreed with her and really thought we'd say our goodbyes and go on with our day. Nope. "So, what are you going to do about it?" she asked. I was quiet, secretly hoping she'd feel uncomfortable with the silence and let me hang up. Nope. "What steps are you going to take?" Realizing she wasn't going to hang up until I formulated a plan, I said, "well, I'm not exactly sure." Still not off the proverbial hook. Such tenacity this woman has.

Together we generated a plan wherein I journal the lies I am believing and/or telling myself and write a corresponding truth for each one. Then comes the memorization so I don't have to depend on said journal to rise above the weight when the inopportune times come. Journaling doesn't work for everyone but for me, it's been highly effective and she knows that. How? Because she knows me. She has invested in me and I in her. She will hold me accountable to do the hard work too.

This stretch of road will be difficult but travel it I must lest I remain in ever increasing bondage for the rest of my life. I am so grateful for this friend, and others like her, who stick their neck out there for me, hold my feet to the fire, encourage me through it, and love me even though I am a stubborn, sometimes belligerent tough nut to crack. They shine Jesus to me and help me shine too.

Uniquely Qualified, For Such A Time As This

I have tried in vain over the past 18 months to find answers to all the "why" questions surrounding my double diagnosis in April 2010. At times those eluding answers nearly drove me crazy. Buried deep in my soul is the knowledge that everything that happens to me is for a purpose, nothing is wasted and nothing happens without going by the throne of God first. You'd think that deeply hidden knowledge would be enough.

Yet frequently is has not been enough, not nearly enough, for this aching soul. Until this week.

I have a very dear friend who has walked by my side every single step of this arduous journey. Actually I have many dear friends who have done so, but this woman in particular has had special insight because she, too, has suffered many medical maladies in her life. She understands the physical, emotional and spiritual pain, medical treatment, medical bills and the blues associated with a chronic illness.

I cried tears of sorrow and lamented to her as I began my injections. She was sympathetic, compassionate and more importantly, always pointed me to purpose in Christ. She never chastised me or made light of the situation yet at the same time refused to allow me to wallow in pity over it or despair to the point of emotional paralysis.

Now she finds herself in similar predicament, beginning injections for her own health issues this week. As I read her email detailing what is coming up for her, I wept. Not because I pity her but because I understand it like so few others can. My heart throbs with pain for her. I know the emotional roller coaster....the fear...the sadness...the despair...the physical pain...every single thing she will experience I have already experienced--and survived.

I have been uniquely qualified, for such a time as this. In her journey I get a glimpse of one of the reasons I am on this road. It is for my dear friend. God, in His omniscience, sent me ahead and just as she walked with me, I now get to be that source of human strength for her.

Although after thoroughly reading her email, I'm not sure she really has need to lean on me. Read an excerpt of her beautifully written words:

I am thankful, and have a bedrock of faith in God for the outcome. I know that He is my healer...and I'm definitely asking Him to heal me through this. If He chooses not to...I must be faithful to thank Him for the experience, and trust Him with whatever comes next. We must trust in the darkness, what we know to be true in the light, amen!

These words likely help you understand why this woman is so special to me and how it's been possible for me to feel encouraged and uplifted in a very difficult season of my life. She was uniquely qualified as well. My friend has an amazing resolve and undeniable faith but should she falter, I will be there to steady her as she trudges forward.

Uniquely qualified...what a beautiful gift and preparation for our earthly journeys from our Creator, from the one who knows the beginning to the end.

We were not meant to walk alone and for that I am eternally grateful.

Facing The Giant Called Fear

One of the most frustrating things I've dealt with these past 18 months has been fear. Things I've never feared before nearly bring me to my knees. Last fall I almost passed on leading Bible study, something I've done for 6 years, because of these fears. I just wanted to stay in the comfort, safety and security of my home. Had I not taken that one small step, into the tender, loving care of my Thursday night girls, I may very well have headed down the road of a recluse.

I now face another aspect of those fears and I am running straight into them, hitting as hard and fast as I can. I am terrified yet I go forward.

The last week of July I am traveling internationally again, albeit a small step, to Toronto, Canada. Steve and I will be part of the small front runner mission team with a goal of setting the stage for future teams working with missionaries already on the ground.

Let me be clear: I am excited yet utterly frightened. It is a strange dichotomy.

When we were first asked to be part of this my gut reaction was to say no. I knew for certain the doctor would say no and while I desperately want to go, I was hoping that could be my out because of these insane fears.

But he said yes. "Canada is no big deal. You don't need shots and there is nothing there that would be any more dangerous to you than where you live. Just be sure to carry the card you received with your medication and secure it between ice packs to keep it cold until you get there," the nurse said.

At once I knew the only obstacle between me and Toronto was my own fear and anxiety. And there is plenty of both. I've never been away from home on "injection day" and the potential for a negative reaction is still all too real. I don't know if I will be able to keep up with the others. I don't know if I will struggle to get through every minute of every day. But I do know I am supposed to go.

In the end, I have to trust my life into the hands of my Creator and the One who sustains my every breath. I don't want to spend the rest of my life missing adventure because of what might happen. I don't want to be a captive. Yes, my current medical condition doesn't allow me to do things I would like and it slows me down or causes me to find a work-around for other things but I don't have to lay down and take it without a fight.

So, fight I will. I plan to get on that plane and do whatever it is God has for us to do in Toronto. I may not be able to go to the jungles of the Amazon or the plains of Africa, but I can go to Canada (among other places) and I will. Who knows? Maybe in the process I just might be a blessing to someone.

I Blinked and It Was 23 Years Later

June 24, 1988 was a hot day as was the case for the entire spring. It was just days before Yellowstone National Park began to burn. But I remember it mostly as the day I became Mrs. Steven Lortz.

On June 25, 1988 we got into my loaded down Subaru hatchback with a U-Haul strapped to the top, filled with wedding gifts. We were headed to Phoenix where Steve had already been going to college for a year. We were young, idealistic and the world was just waiting for us to discover it. By the time we arrived in Phoenix 2 days later, our air conditioner had gone out and it was 113 degrees....every day for the entire summer. I dubbed it "the summer of 113". Ever tried looking for a job in a car with no air conditioning and it's 113+? Let me tell you, it isn't pretty. By then I had fallen in love with the Saguaro cactus and was so excited for my new life, my new adventure.

I haven't been disappointed. Things haven't always gone the way we wanted or would have liked but it's always been an adventure. As I lay in bed trying to wake up this morning, I recalled to myself all the things we have been through together, the ways we've succeeded and yes, even our failures. I don't know that I would change a second of it. We've had seasons of little with lots of wants and seasons of much with little to want. At times we had less than $1 in our checking account and not a cent of savings. Those are some of the best times we've spent together. In those early years our post-marital dates were drives in the desert with a packed lunch. When we had a few extra dollars we got to go out for a $4.25 pizza and $1 movie. We never felt badly about it either. We knew when Steve graduated we'd conquer the world and until then, we settled for 39 cent soda refills and a drive to look at houses we'd buy one day. We never worried for a second.

We've been unbelievably blessed to travel to some amazing places....from the mountains of Alaska and the green hills of Germany to the beaches of Hawaii, Jamaica and Haiti; from the Statue of Liberty to the Space Needle of Seattle; from the swamps of Florida to the Missions of Texas; from the green ocean of the Atlantic to the blue ocean of the Pacific and points too numerous to count in between. We've moved 12 times, all of those in the first 15 years. We've owned 15 cars (yes, I used to have a problem) and 3 houses. We've had the privilege of living in 4 different states, all very different from the one before and the one after! We've had amazing jobs, working in industries we always wanted to and accomplished things we never thought possible.

We've suffered much loss...Steve's grandpa, his grandma, my aunt, my grandma, his dad, my uncle, my dad and his uncle. We've survived financial distress, infertility, sickness, disease (x2), loss of jobs due to downsizing and corporate buyouts and many, many deployments. I watched with much pride as that amazing, brave soul eagerly went to war in lands afar. He was confident, secure and all too ready to defend our freedoms here and secure those same freedoms for the oppressed and weak. We've thrived in occupations where others have crumbled. Quite a bit of our time together has actually been apart. We don't know any differently and it's worked for us. We've heard that absence makes the heart grow fonder and my heart is quite fond of my fair-haired, blue-eyed prince.

That list is astounding for me to recall. It is by the grace of God alone that we grew together. It is our individual pursuit of a relationship with Christ that has caused us to draw closer to each other.

There is nobody on this earth who understands me like Steve does. At times he knows and understands me better than I know and understand myself. He knows my stories, gets my jokes (and still laughs at them), is familiar with my quirkiness, my shortcomings, my failures and my insecurities. He loves me anyway. He protects me, fights for me (for us) and adds so much joy to my world.

I went to bed a new bride and awoke this morning, 23 years later. In my groggy waking up time I heard the shower running and my heart was happy.

The Reality of Thursday

These days I have a pill-reminder-box. It is so much easier to fill it just once a week than to have to dispense what I need every day from multiple bottles. It's not just an ordinary pill box, it's an am/pm pill-reminder box. And I use both sides 2 days a week. In case you're wondering, yes, it makes me feel like I'm 87. Seriously, it's ridiculous.

Every Thursday as I open the a.m. side I am reminded of what remains in the p.m. side. Without fail I ask Steve, "do you know what today is?" He never gets it wrong. "It's Thursday," he says. "Do you know what that means?" I ask. "Yep, I do," he replies. We both know. It's injection day. I sigh. I hate Thursdays. I have begun to think I will never get used to them and in reality, I do not want to accept this is part of my life, each week, every week, indefinitely.

Most weeks the pain is not all that intense, at least not until the very end which lasts 5-10 seconds. Other weeks it hurts from the first click. It all depends on the location and to avoid a reaction we have to move it around. I cry not over the physical pain although I do frequently plead with Steve to make it stop. He can't do anything to make it stop and I know that. This would probably frustrate or anger a different person. Not my ever-steady Steve. No, he puts his hand out and quietly says, "Squeeze my hand. You're alright. It's almost over."

I cry because of emotion. I don't want to do this every week. I am reminded each time of the limitations this brings to my life. I have to be home on the day it's shipped to me. As we travel, I have to think about how to keep it cool and plan what we can do on any given day to work around it. I hate it. It drives me crazy. But those are only the minor frustrations. The big tears fall because I don't want to be sick. I don't want to inject this junk in my body every week.

Steve's been doing the injections, not because I can't but because I just don't want to. When there comes a week he's not around I can and will do it. But for now I don't have to and I choose not to. After it's over we wait for 30 minutes to see if an immediate reaction is coming and then I head to bed. By this time I can hardly keep my eyes open as the Benadryl has taken affect. For the next few minutes Steve stays awake to see if my breathing is normal before he goes to sleep himself. This is at my request. He believes that since we're 4 months into it, I am probably not going to react. He's very confident but it makes me nervous; scares me actually yet he indulges me in this for my peace of mind.

And then it's Friday.

This Crazy Roller Coaster

Just 14 days ago I received good news from the doctor which hadn't happened in 16 months. I can't begin to relate the excitement I felt that day. Still do. When his office didn't call with information about my latest lab results, I knew it was good news. Either things had improved or at the least, everything had remained the same. The old adage of "no news is good news" certainly proved to be true.

My injections have been alright the last 3 weeks--I just took my 6th one yesterday. After the 3rd one there was suspicion that I wouldn't be able to continue and I was seriously bummed because the initial results were so promising. But then came a fairly severe reaction to the site injections. It was a miserable 5 days in mid-March but after a consultation and some good advice from the amazing NP, things have gotten better. Sadly, I've experienced no positive improvement since that time, at least in how I feel physically. It's yet to be seen what the blood tests will show in a couple of weeks. One of the nurses told us the immune system is like a big submarine and it doesn't turn on a dime but even so, the initial weeks were so amazing I knew I would be an exception. Yeah, nice thought.

I find myself on this crazy roller coaster. The new medicine worked...UP I go. The lab tests were not so great...DOWN I go. The new medicine causes a negative reaction...DOWN I go. New lab tests prove promising...UP I go. The reactions to the injections calm down...UP I go. I attempt some "normal" activity only to hurt so badly I am in tears and cannot sleep....DOWN I plunge.

So here it is, 2 a.m. and I am getting just minutes of rest at a time before the sharp, searing pain jolts me awake. Pain so intense the tears roll down my face. I am not allowed (or at least have been strongly advised to stay away from) anything that will ease my discomfort. I finally got up to allow Steve some solid rest and am doing what a normal, sane person would do at this hour and with this problem...watching a movie and drinking diet Mountain Dew:) I am thoroughly, completely and utterly exhausted. Desperate for 6-7 hours of uninterrupted sleep.

As this uninterrupted sleep eludes me, my thoughts run rampant about this insane ride I am on. I long for an even-keeled, smooth ride like "It's a Small World" in Disneyland. Something predictable, easy and calming. Yet this season seems to doom me to a never ending roller coaster. I keep zooming past the ride operator waving my arms furiously to stop this thing yet he just pushes me on.

I've never been a fan of roller coasters. Now I know why.

Tears In The Darkness and Blessings Too

Last night as we were about to fall asleep I said to Steve, "I have a well of tears hiding behind my eyes." He asked why and all I could come up with is that they'd been building and I just hadn't let them go. He took hold of my hand and said "well, let 'em go". I don't know that he realized at that moment how long that could take....rest assured he fell asleep long before the tears stopped.

Sometimes the pain is so intense I can do nothing else but cry and that was part of my problem last night. For reasons I'm keeping close and private for the time being, I cannot take anything for the pain--4 weeks and counting. I've always had a fairly high threshold for pain and as time goes by, I raise that bar higher and higher. It's not that I want to be a martyr about it or anything, it's just out of necessity. Fortunately in the pain the lessons abound.

Also at night the tears fall because this is when I experience more than half my fear. It's now at night I must take my injections and for me to go to bed after that terrifies me for if I had a reaction I may not wake up in time. It's in the night when I feel most alone, small and insignificant. It's in the night when I am alone with my thoughts and recall far too easily how I've failed, what I need to do but can't because of my limitations and all too soon I am consumed with a laundry list of things I have to do. No, must do. Believe it or not, there was a time when this worked to my advantage. I had a job where nighttime thinking was my friend. I came up with the best ideas when my mind refused to shut down for the night. I even kept a legal pad on the nightstand to jot down my ideas so my mind could relax and drift off. Yet now this once great friend has become foe as it torments me with what could have been, should have been and never will be.

The tears come so easily in the darkness and are most difficult to control once they do. So how in the world can there be blessings in any of this? Being a firm believer that all circumstances come with lessons and determined to find some brightness in this difficult time, I force myself to search for them. I've discovered it's a guarantee for me to find them when I search earnestly. A few of my blessings....

1. God is teaching me the difference between what I say I believe and what I'm actually believing. I say "God is in control of my days and they are numbered" and I really think I believe it. Yet I obviously don't or I would not worry about a reaction at night being the end of me. I should not worry if I believe God is in control. This line of saying vs really believing will make a huge difference in my growth...once I cross it.

2. The physical pain that is a mainstay these days gives me a keen sense of the pain that surrounds me. People are hurting and just as nobody can see my physical pain, often times I cannot see the emotional, mental and physical pain around me but it's there just the same. I need to remember this to keep me from being self-involved.

3. Admitting to myself and to God (although he knows already) that I am consumed with fears is a crucial first step in getting over them. And get over them I must or I will retreat into the safety of my home environment which I can control and in so doing I become the host of a major pity party and agoraphobia takes over my life.

4. Every time I do something like lead Bible study, emcee at Spring Fling or otherwise fill a public role, I am demonstrating that it is not me doing it in my own strength. It is Christ in me. Many times I have the desire and tendency to curl up at home and watch a movie or read a book yet once I've made a commitment I know I must go forward and so I do - just not in my own strength. This is where God gets the glory and I get the privilege of being used for His purposes.

The tears may fall and on occasion I more than willingly let them because the end result is blessing and glory.

And Just Like That, It Was Over

Thursday was so busy for me I didn't have much time to think about my appointment at 4. That was a good thing.

We arrived about 5 minutes early and this was seriously the wrong appointment to make me wait until 30 minutes after my scheduled time. The most fabulous nurse did our injection instruction. It was such a privilege to be under the care of Jim--he is compassionate, understanding and has the most amazing bedside manner. He spent the first few minutes discussing all sorts of things with us and even had a training needle / plunger to use. He insisted we try it that way first.

Then it was time for the real deal. I had fully intended for Steve to give me the injections but Jim stared me right in the eye, pointed his finger and said, "no, YOU will do this one. What you do after this one in the office is up to you but today it's YOU!" See, when I asked the NP about it the week before, she said they recommend I do my own but it was totally up to me. Apparently not under Jim's watch! In retrospect, he was extremely wise for forcing me into it.

Jim walked through each preparatory step with us and I sat there with the plunger on my leg for what seemed like an eternity staring at the trigger. He said "whenever you're ready, go ahead." Truth is, I was never really going to be ready and it made him smile when I told him so. I finally clicked it and sat there watching the lever in the window portion while the medicine was pushed into my leg. I'm not kidding when I say it hurt; kind of like a tearing and burning at the same time. But I don't think it was the physical pain of the shot that hurt so badly because I've been in far more pain day in and day out. It actually paled in comparison, particularly considering it was 30 seconds rather than 24 hours a day.

I found myself in more of an emotional trauma watching the level of medicine as it lowered into my body. It was the strangest thing, almost as if I were watching it from a distance on the leg of someone else (except of course the pain was all to real for that to be the case). The tears streamed down my face and I had no ability to control them. Steve was to my right and he put his hand on my shoulder, whispering that it was okay and I was doing fine. Jim was in front of me and he patted my knee assuring me it was going well. Once the needle was out Jim handed me some cotton and told me to press on it for 15-20 seconds. After about five he tapped my hand and so calmly said "relax Julie, don't push so hard." I looked down only to realize my fingers were white from pushing so hard.

And then it was over. Until next Friday that is.

Jim sent us to the waiting room for 10 minutes to ensure there were no immediate side effects requiring medical attention and then he helped me with my coat, patted me on the shoulder and said "you did good kiddo." The side effects I experienced in the following 24 hours were completely normal and very minimal. I had some tingling in my left foot and hand and then I was fairly fatigued and slightly nauseous but both of those should lessen as my body adjusts to receiving the medication.

It will take anywhere from 2 to 12 weeks to see how well it will work.

T Minus 2

This past week I've been fairly melancholy and probably even extremely sad. All week long I've wanted to wrap myself in a blanket, lay in the recliner and entertain myself with movies. Yet that is not an option for me. I must press on and do what I've been called to do, despite how I feel....my feelings are not usually to be trusted and certainly not now. If I were to gauge my life on how I felt, I would be a bigger mess than I already am.

Last Thursday I received a call from the doctor's office and the message simply was "Julie this is XX, a nurse from Dr. A's office. Can you please call us back about your recent lab results?" I've been doing this thing long enough to know that is never a call to tell a patient how they soared through the tests. They call for one reason only--something is wrong. And so it was. I hardly had enough time to compose myself before I headed to the church to lead Bible study.

This week we finally got word that the insurance company had approved the new medication for one month. We attempted to pick it up yesterday only to discover it has to be ordered. We went back today to get it and I made an appointment at the doctor's office for "injection instruction" on Thursday at 4.

And the thought of it makes me so sad I can barely stand up under the sorrow. I retreated to the bedroom, curled up in my favorite barrel chair, wrapped my arms around a pillow and wept. Steve allowed me several minutes alone before he came in and sat in front of me.

"I don't want to do this," I whispered.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because it's what sick people do." I could barely eek out the words.

"Baby, you ARE sick. This may very well be the thing that enables you to function again."

"Will you still love me if I choose not to?" I asked. The insecurities I have fallen into since the onset of this thing are almost beyond comprehension.

"Of course I'll love you." Steve never wavers.

"Would you do it if it were you?"

"Absolutely. No question."

And so we go forward. T minus 2 days. In 48 hours this initial treatment will be injected in my body and hopefully with the plunge of that needle, all my fears will wash away. Of that I am skeptical for my fear is a spiritual problem and contradictory to my faith.

"For God gave us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self control." ~ 2 Timothy 1:7 (ESV)

I am okay with having these feelings and I don't think it means I don't trust that God is in control. I do; yet I am human and frail. He understands my frailties and the fact that my heart is broken is of great concern to Him. It also doesn't mean I lack faith but rather God is shaking the world around me so at the end of all this I will stand firm on one thing only--Him.

Onward We Go & Yet We Praise Him Still

In December I went for my regularly scheduled doctor's appointment and knew going in my current treatment wasn't working as well as we need it to. The Nurse Practitioner handed me a couple of brochures on a new treatment which I promptly put in our office and didn't look at them until the day before my appointment this week. I just couldn't bear the thought for several reasons. First, it is by injection and the thought of giving myself an injection creeps me out. Second, the side effects scare the daylights out of me. Third, it's expensive.

Steve read it all within a day or so of when I received it. Knowing I was going back to the doctor Monday, I brought it out and read it. There wasn't a whole lot in there I didn't already know. I compiled a list of questions and took Steve with me for this visit. Certain I would never make it through that visit without tears, I prayed for strength as I never have before. That prayer was answered as I was more rational and composed than I have been in months! I was able to carry on an intelligent conversation rather than a blubbering idiot one. Steve also had a couple of questions I hadn't thought of so all in all, it was a decent appointment.

As expected, the clinical observations were that I was doing more poorly than last time and while I might sustain at the level I am, I will certainly not get better and I am no where near being able to function adequately. The one bright spot in the visit is that the NP remarked on my "exceptional" strength. Totally cracked me up. To be honest, when she asked me to push against her, I sent her and her chair flying backwards, mostly due to the fact that she didn't expect it...I think. Knowing how much strength I've lost, I now long for the days when I was strong for real.

We left there with the decision made to go forward with the first line of biologic treatment. They are hopeful it will work well for me as it does for so many other patients. As soon as insurance approves it, we can begin. I had hoped for this weekend but apparently it can take 5-7 days for approval and then the pharmacy has to get the medication in. So, it looks like next week is a more likely target.

Amazingly, there is a blessing in all of this. I shouldn't be so shocked as we serve an amazing God and I know for certain He is in the midst of this thing. The drug company has a program where they cover what the insurance company does not for 6 months, up to $4,000. By then we should know if it will work or not. This is provision as its best!

Now I am trying very hard not to play the "what-if" game. What if it doesn't work? Then what? The other options are increasingly expensive. What if I am one of the rare individuals with extreme side effects? What if I die? I can drive myself crazy with the "what-ifs". So I must choose to rest in this:

"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body. All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Psalm 139:13-16 (NIV)

and

"Praise the Lord, o my soul, and forget not all His benefits--who forgives all your sins and heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit and crowns you with love and compassion, who satisfies your desires with good things so that your youth is renewed like the eagle's." Psalm 103:2-5 (NIV)

God knows. He created me, He knows what is wrong and God alone heals. If He does not, I will yet praise Him, my Savior and my God.

Two Sides of the Same Psalm

This morning I was in Psalm 13...remember my commitment to plod through the Psalms this year? I was suddenly struck by the stark contrast of emotions contained within the few verses. This actually happens quite a bit in the Psalms but for some reason it just hit me as fresh revelation today. Since it's short, I will put the verses below to help understand my connecting points.

How long O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart? How long will my enemy triumph over me?

Look on me and answer, O Lord my God. Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death; my enemy will say, "I have overcome him" and my foes will rejoice when I fall.

But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for He has been good to me.

The Psalm begins with questions and a seemingly confused writer (David). He doesn't understand why it's taking so long for deliverance to come. How long O Lord? Man, I can so relate to that one. Then comes what I see as a beautiful word--but. But what? "I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, for He has been good to me."

Here's what grabbed my attention. It is not an either / or proposition. It is an "and" proposition. What do I mean by that? I don't have to choose the mis-understanding or confusion over the rejoicing and singing. I can have both sides of the same Psalm!! I can be confused as to why God is delaying in my deliverance and at the same time wallow in praise for all the good He has done for me. It is there--I just have to choose to find it.

Last week Steve did a project for one of his classes. He had to write his life story beginning with birth and leading up to how he ended up in ministry and what's going on now. He was instructed to use different colors of sticky notes to delineate the good things and key people in his life from the bad things that have happened in his life. He used green for the good and yellow for the bad. Once he completed it he had to show it to someone and report on their observations. Since I was 12 feet from him when he completed it, he showed it to me. The first thing I noticed was the overwhelming amount of green compared to yellow.

The point? Yes, there are hard, even devastating things that happen in all of our lives. There is death, sickness, failures, not getting a promotion and the list goes on. But there are amazing things that happen to us too. There are births, graduations, influential people, professional success, spiritual victories and so much more. When I saw it all compiled on that poster board it took my breath away.

Yes, I will sing, must sing, to the Lord for He has been GOOD to me!

A Change of Perspective

It's been a really strange week of up and down moments which normally would put me on a wild roller coaster ride. Yet I seem to be leveling out a bit and running on more of an even keel. Obviously that is subjective....Steve runs on an even keel and it is SERIOUSLY even so compared to that, my "even keel" is not exactly even. But compared to where I'm coming from, it is unbelievably even. No doubt this is part of my growth and I am quite pleased.

The week began with me falling at church once again. Everything in me wanted to jump back in the car, drive home, get in bed and sob. Instead, I fought back the tears, took my post and resumed my duties. I spent the afternoon and evening in much pain, sitting in the recliner and napping. Monday was much improved and I was mentally and emotionally the better for having fought against my natural inclination to run and hide. There is no victory in that.

Today I went to the doctor, a much dreaded visit that didn't turn out all that badly. I believe this is due in large part to the friends who were praying for me. Until tonight. I just recovered from tears because I feel so utterly humiliated. It's not that the doctor was unprofessional, rude or rough. She was not. She was compassionate, genuine and had an amazing bedside manner. But medically speaking, some things are just difficult for me to bear even under optimum conditions. This was one of those.

I've realized a couple of things this week. This test of my faith and battle for my health is a place I have to venture alone. Sometimes God brings those things in our lives that are just for us and Him. No one else is permitted in. That doesn't mean people don't walk through it with us but rather they don't get to journey into the innermost places. As a matter of fact, it is critical that I have people surrounding me, walking with me, praying for me and distracting me when possible. But they can't enter in.

Last week's Bible study lesson was on this very thing. At the end of the video as I stood up to teach the portion of the lesson I had prepared, I could barely contain myself. I told the ladies I was about to burst into tears because in my heart I knew "this revelation is for me. It's exactly where I am. It IS me."

The following points are verbatim from session five of "David: Seeking a Heart Like His" by Beth Moore (study distributed by Lifeway); pages 102-103:

1. Further still...when you are overwhelmed with sorrow.

2. Further still...when you desperately need to wrestle with the will of God.

3. Further still...when nobody else gets it.

4. Further still...when the most serious matters of your life need settling.

5. Further still...when life can't be the same but the pain can bring gain.

This season of life is a "further still" for me. I can't possibly say it any better than what has already been said. It is an enormous step for me to realize this.

The second thing I am also coming to terms with is something I've been wrestling with for months. I've been asking difficult questions of God and I don't think that makes me a heretic. Quite the opposite actually. The Psalms are filled with such questions.....how long O Lord? Will you despise me forever? Why O Lord do you stand far off? I haven't verbalized these exactly but definitely versions of them. I don't understand much of the reasoning behind this test. So the questions I must answer are....is God any less good today than he was 16 months ago when all this started? Is He less Holy? Less sovereign? Less...(fill in the blank)?

What exactly am I basing my faith on...who God is or what He does? This came directly out of my lesson for today (the same study indicated above). The exact words I read were: "Basing our faith on who God is rather than what He appears to be doing is crucial to our spiritual health." (page 120)

When a friend asked me a couple of weeks ago how the study was going, I replied "it's amazing. It's tearing my heart apart." That's not bad. On the contrary, this is a good thing.

Acceptable Struggles, Unacceptable Struggles

Sometimes we have to accept things in life that we'd rather not. I'm actually okay with that....as if I have a choice.

I have no memory of a pain-free day in my life. I know that's been truth since I was 15 years old but before that I'm not so certain. Surely I did, I just don't remember it. But since my first diagnosis with MD I haven't had a single day of pain-free living. The thing is, I have re-defined what pain is and what might make someone else feel poorly enough to stay home, I just consider a normal day. And since it's not enough pain to keep me down, I generally don't take anything for it. But lately I've been thinking about it quite a bit. A couple weeks ago I asked Steve, "what do you feel like in the morning?" He asked, "What do you mean?" I replied, "Well, do you feel normal or do you hurt?" He said, "I feel fine, normal if that's what you mean. I don't have pain."

I can't wrap my head around that. I desperately would like a day where I wake up and NOTHING hurts--or even where the pain is so minimal I can get up and start with my day immediately rather than transition to the sofa for the next 30-90 minutes until I can actually function. While I would like that, it is not my reality and I have learned to accept that. It's an acceptable struggle.

But what I can't accept is the continual struggle for medical treatment that will work effectively. I feel like a one woman platoon taking on an entire battalion. Consider my most recent interaction with a doctor:

DR.: Julie, aerobic exercise would be really good for strengthening your muscles and increased mobility.

ME: I hear what you're saying. I do. And I understand...BUT what I'm referring to is the ability to function on my own for even a day. I can barely get out of bed, I cannot lift a gallon of milk by myself and sometimes getting from point A to point B means Steve has to help me. I'm talking about getting my disease under control so I can even go for a half mile walk. Can we start there?

I really pay $325 per office visit for this aggravation. I'm not anti-exercise. I believe in the health benefits, it's good stewardship of the body and mentally it's fantastic. But to a person who struggles every day to walk up the stairs and get out of a chair, aerobics is not high on my "to-do list". I count it a successful day when I can work my 4 hours, do a load of laundry, pick up the house and make dinner. Most days I can accomplish at least 2 of those things and I'm ecstatic...as well as exhausted.

This, to me, is an unacceptable struggle. I'm not asking the doctor to understand how I feel. That would be impossible--it would be like asking me to understand what it's like to be pregnant. Some things you've got to experience to understand. I am not even really asking him to have empathy. That would be nice...I love a good bedside manner but it's not crucial. What I am asking for is some stinkin' common sense that prohibits him from saying such dim-witted comments.

And Even If He Does Not

The other morning as I continued in my quest to make the Psalms a mainstay of my reading diet I came across 2 phrases in chapter 9 that resonated in my little brain:

"The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek you." (v9-10)

and

"...he does not ignore the cry of the afflicted." (v12b)

I stopped and asked this question: "So what does it mean, God, if I feel that my cry is ignored?" and further added this statement, "I feel forsaken." A few years ago I never would have typed those sentences for public viewing nor would I have admitted them to God himself. What's different? Well, I still felt and thought them, God knew it, so why not be honest and ask the tough questions? He can take it!

I sat for a few minutes, quieted my heart and mind with only a silent pleading asked God to please show me something....anything.

I don't know that I had a big revelation but in my heart I heard "EVEN IF HE DOES NOT..." and at once I thought of a very familiar story about Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, the 3 friends of Daniel in the book of Daniel. I immediately flipped over several pages and read it again. Just before they were thrown into the fiery furnace they told Nebuchadnezzar, "the God we serve is able to save us from it, and he will rescue us from your hand, O King. But EVEN IF HE DOES NOT, we want you to know, O king, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of god you have set up." (Daniel 3:17-18 emphasis mine)

These 3 guys were amazing. They knew God could rescue them physically but more than that, they knew that even if he didn't rescue them physically, they would be rescued spiritually and while their time on earth came to an end, they would be ushered into His presence. Either way, as they saw it, they win. They would not feel forsaken if it didn't turn out in physical deliverance.

Many of us probably know how this turned out for them....not only did Jesus himself show up and walk around the fire with them (that's my belief on who that 4th guy was), when King N called to them, out they walked and "the fire had not harmed their bodies, nor was a hair of their heads singed; their robes were not scorched, and there was no smell of fire on them." (3:27) I smile at that last phrase and what I perceive as a sense of humor from God, almost as if it say "I'll go one better, they won't even smell!" Okay, totally my interjection there but it's just like God to go that extra mile.

I don't know that I can unequivocally state my arrival at the sentence "even if He does not". But it was a big ah-ha for me that morning. EVEN IF HE DOES NOT...I will....what? Feel ignored? Feel forsaken? What right do I have to say to God, if you don't do this, it means (fill in the blank)? None. No right at all. I don't get to decide that if God doesn't act like I want him to then He is unfaithful or has forsaken me or ignored me.

Yes, I have to work through those feelings and I truly believe God understands that. I'm not the first in the history of this world to do so and I won't be the last. God help me if I come up with anything less than...AND EVEN IF HE DOES NOT I WILL HOLD FIRM AND FOLLOW.