Loss

"Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord." Philippians 4:7-8

 

Two days ago I posted this scripture verse along with Casting Crowns’ song “To Know You”.  It was a word of hope, yet I struggled with posting it.  It is a favorite song of mine, and has spoken to me powerfully in the midst of loss…and yet, if we don’t also speak about the reality of loss, the hope sounds hollow.  I’ve learned over the years that if I don’t address the truth of loss in my life, or in the lives of others, any word of hope that is spoken sounds like a quick fix, or a brushing away of the pain.

 

So, today I am compelled to turn the focus to the reality of loss in long-term illness, both mental and physical.  (Note, I am intentional to keep mentioning mental chronic illness as well, because while little seems to be addressed to chronic physical illnesses, even less attention goes to the struggle of long term mental illnesses.  Both are life-changing, and both can be powerful faith growing times.)

Where do we even start with this conversation-- when the symptoms first start being noticed, or at diagnosis?  In reflecting on my own experience and the experience of those dear to me, it seems that we’d be more correct to talk about ‘losses’. It is not just one event, but a series of losses that come at different times.  I’d like to name some of the losses that may be experienced:

• Loss of physical abilities- (may be ongoing and cumulative- or sudden and complete)
• Loss of mental abilities- (may be ongoing and cumulative- or sudden)
• Loss of concept of self- the loss of how we think of ourselves (ie- strong, powerful, sharp, capable, able to handle anything, healthy…)
• Loss of relationship- the loss of how relationships used to be with others (often there is a change, from subtle to distinct); and the loss of certain people in our lives ( there are some who no longer contact us when we become ill- perhaps out of not knowing what to do)
• Loss of a sense of place in our family or society- “Our family is known for… and now I can’t do that particular thing.” 
• Loss of income- long term illnesses can be debilitating to the point of forcing people to resign, go on disability or retire  in the prime of their lives. This loss has physical effects, ie- financial struggles; as well as mental and spiritual effects-  What is my purpose?  What am I good for? 
• Loss of peace of mind-  every ache and pain that used to be ignored now may be noticed, and along with it may come the wondering if something else is being lost.  It can feel like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
• Loss of innocence about our health- many of us know much more about the things that can go wrong in the human body than we’ve ever known or ever wanted to know before.  While learning about the miraculous workings of the body can be inspiring, I’ve also seen that when facing difficulties, people who know more can also envision more catastrophic endings.  There’s a loss of the sense that ‘Everything’s going to be alright’, primarily because everything already isn’t alright.

These are just a few, and I touched on each of these major losses just a bit. Each of these can be very painful, and combined together, they can be hard to explain and hard to navigate.  Also, the timing of each of these is not set.  It’s not necessarily true that once you face the symptoms you start to encounter these, or once you’re diagnosed you are hit by all of these.  They often take place over time, and in my life, I realize the losses often not at the time they are happening, but later.  It can take a while for things to sink in.

Back in November and December when I first started to work on managing the difficult symptoms of the relapse, I was so busy focusing on just getting through the next day and making sense of it that I wasn’t aware of the loss.  Only recently, as things have settled down have these very powerful feelings of loss surfaced

What I am trying to say is that there is no set pattern for this, nor is there any ‘typical’ loss.  You may have or may be facing any or all of these or a combination that I haven’t even named.  Loss is normal. Painful, but normal.  There is nothing wrong with you if you are experiencing any of these things…it is part of this territory.  Nor is there anything wrong with you if, months after diagnosis or months down the road from here you find yourself feeling the loss.  We each will experience the timing in different ways.

I would encourage you, no matter what you are feeling or how it is hitting, to choose good, mature, sensitive people to support you.  Ask them to walk with you in this time, and consider strongly getting in touch with a counselor or therapist. Just as you are careful to choose which doctors to help you through this, I’d encourage you to be careful in choosing which people to support you.  Friends, family, pastors, counselors can all be helpful, but not all family, friends, pastors or counselors will know how to help.  Listen to your heart and your gut, and be selective of who you share your loss with.

Precious and important things have shifted in your life. It is real and it is often extremely painful. Having people who will also treat these losses with the precious care that is needed can be very healing. 

The cross also reminds us that we have a God who understands significant loss, and chose to be with us right in the middle of the darkest times.  The Lord will not leave us even as loss surrounds you and me.  The cross is not an easy answer, nor is it something to give hollow hope.  Instead, the cross reminds us that God knows first-hand the depths of loss, and yet also brings transformation and real hope even to the hardest losses.

May you know the love of God, and the support and care of others in the middle of your losses.

Peace,

Andrea

Dear loving God, sometimes the losses we face can hit us like a freight train. Other times they can sneak up on us and accumulate until they feel like a burden we can no longer carry.  Help us this day as we face many losses. Encourage us, hold us and guide us through this dark and difficult territory.  Amen.

Who am I to do this?

“Then the Lord said, ‘I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings,…the cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.’ But Moses said to God, ‘Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?’ He said, ‘I will be with you;”  Exodus 3: 7, 9-12b NRSV

It has been a month since this blog was started, and that has caused me to reflect. Although you need to know that many things cause me to reflect:  anniversaries, births, a beautiful sunrise, as well as stumbling on the sidewalk, air…  you get the picture!  Reflection, not unusual for me J…

As I look back upon the last month, I am struck by two things:  how helpful it has been for me to have the opportunity to work on daily devotions and put words to some of the struggles and gifts that I’ve found on the path of Chronic illness, and also the overwhelming sense of ‘who am I to be writing this?’.  Moses’ words at the burning bush  came to mind this morning as I ponder all this—not because I feel some great call to free a people, nor because I think of myself as a Moses-type figure, but because the honesty of his question resonates in my heart.

Moses had been raised a prince of Egypt, and after having to flee Egypt for murder in protection of an Israelite, he found himself tending sheep in Midian. Not anything he probably ever had seen as part of his future.  God calls him to take action. Moses’ response was some thing like “are you sure?  I can’t speak very well. Certainly someone else can do this better. Who am I to do this?”

Perhaps you’ve heard yourself sounding like Moses.  Maybe an opportunity, or a situation has called upon you to take action, and you were more un-certain of yourself than anything. You may be even facing something in your life like this now, on a large or small scale.

Over the past several days as I’ve wrestled with exhaustion and physical pain and all the fun that comes with that set of ‘twins’,  I’ve been asking Moses’ question in relationship with this blog.  Who am I to be writing devotions for folks with Chronic illness?  I’m not a medical professional, I’m not an expert in chronic illnesses, heck… I’m not even feeling well most of the time right now.

The amazing answer God gave Moses, and God gives us all is “I will be with you.”  God worked through Moses, warts and all.  And the word to you and to me is that God can utilize our frailties and our failings in ways we can never picture in order to give hope, encouragement and freedom to others. 

The only requirements it seems, for Moses, and for us are to listen and to trust.  Moses ‘turned aside to see this thing (burning bush)’ and then listened.  Then he trusted God’s direction.

In the midst of our daily lives, and for those with long term illnesses – our daily struggles, God continues to call us to listen and trust.  Listen to where and how God wants to work through us, and trust that, while we cannot fathom how it may work, God can—and will—touch the lives of others in ways that we couldn’t touch if we were in some other circumstance.

No, I’m not a doctor, and I don’t even play one on TV.  I’m a middle-aged woman wrestling with the uncertainties and difficulties of health problems while being a wife and mother, and pastor on disability.  I have also had a history of trying to listen to and trust God.  Qualified to write a blog? Not hardly.  In the right place and time, and willing to try?  Yes.

I would love to explore with you how God may be working in your life to utilize who and what you are, in order to help others. I'd love to hear your story...

Andrea

Casting Crowns- To Know You

"Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord." Philippians 4:7-8

A word for those days when feel we may have nothing left, including energy....may this song be devotion and prayer today~

The gift that keeps on giving

 ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. ‘ Matthew 5:7

We were first introduced to the Mastiff Rescue program several years ago, following the very difficult loss of a dear companion, Strider—a two year old, 175lb male English Mastiff.  Our hearts were broken and we were hesitant to even get another dog for a while.  It happened that in our investigating Mastiff breeders in the area, we met one of the state-wide coordinators for Great Lakes Mastiff Rescue.  We met some of her foster pups, and my heart was broken open by the need and the strength of these beautiful critters.  I remember telling her that we’d be open to a rescue dog, but simply not a puppy.  It seemed a safe thing to say, as rescue puppies are pretty rare.

A month later, I received a phone call from Indiana.  It was the Indiana state coordinator for Mastiff rescue, and we’d been recommended as a family for a very special dog.  A mother Mastiff had come in the day before delivering 13 puppies. She was emaciated, and fortunate that she had been found by the rescue people, as they believed she had been part of a backyard puppy-mill, and had endured too many litters at a young age.  Her growth was stunted, and her body had given all it could for the puppies.  She was unable to produce milk and was in great health difficulties. The volunteers hand-fed the 13 puppies themselves (ie- fed some very big, very fast growing pups around the clock!!).  Of course, I said, we’d be happy to meet the mother and consider adopting her,  but no—they had a home for her…they needed a good home for the puppies.  Would we come and see and adopt one?

Because of difficulties with Strider from an early age, I felt quite worthless as a puppy raiser, and yet the need was great.  Placing 13 puppies into homes that were familiar with Mastiffs, and would keep and care for them well…that was quite a need.  We took the risk and adopted our lovely Peachy girl.  Three months later, we received word that the Ohio state-wide person had puppies from a litter from one of her champion dogs, but the pup was a runt that almost died. She was tiny, loving, and no one knew just how she would grow up.  And Miss Peanut became part of our home.  Now three years later, these gorgeous 160 lb. girls grace our home and fill our lives with laughter, love and joy (and snoring and drool, if you’re familiar with the breed ;-) 

In speaking with someone about rescue dogs, I remembered the line from the movie “Pretty Woman”  where Edward asks, “What happens after the prince rescues her?” and Vivian replies “She rescues him right back!”   We ‘officially’ rescued the girls, but Peaches and Peanut rescued us right back, as they helped restore our confidence in caring for such amazing animals. 

One of the lies that Chronic Illness can make us try to believe is the lie that we are worthless. Because we are no longer able to do what we did before, society and often times our own minds, can convince us that we have nothing to give. 

That is hogwash. As I’ve been reflecting for the past month here, although we are affected by many different conditions, and we have differing abilities and different experiences, every one of us has value and has something important and vital to give.  When we are able to focus outside of ourselves and show mercy to another person, or to another creature—whether that be a plant or an animal—something special happens for us as well.  We are strengthened, and we receive something right back.  As Jesus said much more simply, blessed are the merciful for they will receive mercy.

There are people and animals and living things of all kinds that need what we have to offer, whether that is a kind word, or a warm house and proper pet food, or a listening ear and encouragement…you have gifts, and they are gifts that the world needs you to share. Right now.  Don’t believe the lies of illness—who you are is valuable, and in fact, may be more sensitive and merciful because of the challenges you’ve faced.

What has been tugging on your heart?  Is there a person who has been coming to your mind that you are compelled to call?  Is there a cause that you’ve been meaning to support?  Is there something you’ve seen that has stirred mercy in you?  As you are able today, I encourage us all to reach out in mercy for someone or something else. What we will receive in return will be great. 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go buy dog food.  We go through a bit of it now, you see, and there are two beautiful, fuzzy faces depending on me. J

Dear Lord, just as we depend upon others to help us, allow us to see that there are other people and creatures that need help and mercy. Help open our hearts so that we can love and support others, and in return receive the joy of having others depend upon us.  Help us receive mercy, even as we share it with the world.  Amen.

A time to celebrate

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: ² a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; ³ a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up; ⁴ a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance”  Ecclesiastes 3:1-4  NRSV

I’ve always been sentimental.  Holiday celebrations, anniversaries, and birthday parties have always been important to me.  Over the past 3 years they have become even more meaningful.

This weekend we have had the privilege of having birthday celebrations for our 10 year old son, and it started me reflecting on celebrations and long term illness.  Nowadays, any kind of celebration takes more energy than it used to…and it is absolutely worth it!  In the past three years I haven’t always been able to celebrate important holidays and events as I’d like to. Just since November, I’ve missed traveling to see family in other parts of the state and out of state.  I spent Christmas in the hospital this year, and got out just in time to celebrate our daughter’s 14^th birthday…from the couch.

These months have helped developed a new and precious understanding and gratitude that we have something to celebrate.  As difficult as days may be, I have a deeper and abiding awareness that the loved ones in my life may just as easily not be here to celebrate with.  Oddly enough, the more physically painful my life has become, the more grateful I am to still be alive.

So, today, while I’m exhausted from a weekend of what would have been an easy series of event in my pre-illness days, and know that I’m going to have costs that I’ll have to pay later this week…I am also sitting here with a full heart and complete awe that I’ve gotten to participate in 10 amazing years of the life of a very special boy.  I am amazed that we are surrounded by loving and wonderful people in our life and for at least today, we get to laugh and dance.

Dear Lord, thank you for the events in our life that we get to celebrate. Thank you for the people in our lives who are precious to us. Thank you for the days we get to experience.  Amen.

Stand By Me | Playing For Change | Song Around the World

"And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’" Matthew 28:20b

Sorry to be so late posting today. Good, yet very busy day with son's 10th birthday party.
So, here's a musical post~  a favorite of mine.  Enjoy!

Even though I walk...

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want;
 he makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters;
 he restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil;
for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff,
they comfort me.
 Thou preparest a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
thou anointest my head with oil,
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life;
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD
for ever.

Psalm 23- Revised Standard Version

   ^{1 -3} God, my shepherd! I don't need a thing.
   You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
      you find me quiet pools to drink from.
   True to your word,
      you let me catch my breath
      and send me in the right direction.

   ⁴ Even when the way goes through
      Death Valley,
   I'm not afraid
      when you walk at my side.
   Your trusty shepherd's crook
      makes me feel secure.

   ⁵ You serve me a six-course dinner
      right in front of my enemies.
   You revive my drooping head;
      my cup brims with blessing.

   ⁶ Your beauty and love chase after me
      every day of my life.
   I'm back home in the house of God
      for the rest of my life.

Psalm 23-  The Message

Today I posted one of the most well-known and beloved Psalms in two different translations.  I’m not asking you to compare them, or critique them, or even asking which is your favorite.  I posted two because one is my favorite, and the other has also spoken to me in very dear ways, and I thought these might be helpful for someone here.

As you read these passages, what speaks to you loudly today?  What brings you comfort today? 

What did you need to hear from God on this day that you hear in the Psalm? 

Long-term illness is a time when we need to and get to hear things differently.  The world around us may be the same, but our perspective has changed.

Fortunately, although  our perspective has changed, God is not fickle, and God’s message of love, comfort, support and eternal life has not changed. 

I hope today that whether you are beside still waters, or in the valley of the shadow of death, you may know that you are not alone…God walks by your side…today and every day.

Shepherding God, you know us by name and value us as your own. Today speak to our hearts so we may hear you, and give us your comfort and strength.  Amen.

"I'm Here"

 “My brothers and sisters,^* whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing.” 

 James 1:2-4 NRSV

I was diagnosed with POTS while serving at a trio of wonderful congregations. Before the illness hit, I encountered a woman at the congregation who had significant health issues.  Every Sunday morning I would ask her how she was, and the answer always came with a smile “I’m here”.  We’d chuckle, and I interpreted that as a variation on the answer “fine”. 

During the time when I was initially trying to find answers for my lightheadedness, fatigue and multiple other puzzling symptoms, the same woman showed me great compassion and understanding. I learned more about her health, and the struggle it was for her on Sunday mornings (or any mornings) to get up and move due to issues with significant pain.  I started to understand that when she said, “I’m here”  it was a clue to anyone that wanted to hear it, that it was a rough morning for her.  Soon that became the code language between us, and I started to say “I’m here” right back to her when I was having a rough morning. 

This also attuned my ears more closely to the answers of some other people facing challenges—the dear man in his mid-90’s who’d say he was “fair to middlin’”  on some days; the man fighting cancer who would say he was fine, until I’d look deep in his eyes and say “ok, it’s me…how are you?” and he’d give a deeper answer.  I learned that my own struggles were tuning my heart and ears to hear others more carefully. The answers I would have accepted before, the ‘fines’ and ‘I’m here’s” now had nuances and tones that I hadn’t heard before, and they opened me up to wonderful conversations I’d missed before.

But even more than code language, “I’m here” became a statement of faith for this woman.  Despite physical difficulties that would have stopped many other folks, despite daily challenges that were difficult and discouraging, she chose to still come to church. She chose to be there, and through that “simple” action, she witnessed to the God who was with her through all things.  “I’m here” was a declaration, and on many days, her courage and faith…witnessed by being there…helped me keep going and keep facing the tests of my health.

On days that she was unable to be there, I didn’t think she was any less courageous…but began to understand that if something had kept her from church I should really check on her—because it would have to be pretty difficult to stop her from coming. 

In quiet, profound, incredible ways, these dear people (and many others since then) have taught me the importance and depth of “I’m here.”    To the newly widowed woman who still brought her children to worship, even though it was a place where her husband and family had been active…thank you for your witness.  To the young man just released from prison who wasn’t sure church would accept him, but for whom a worn out hand-written prayer had sustained him every day of his incarceration…thank you for your witness.  To the man who is facing difficult job struggles every single day that would have worn most people down, and yet when asked says “we have a warm house and nourishing food on the table today… we’re fine”…thank you for your witness.  And to the women and men who show up, and the people who support and care for them, despite long and often exhausting challenges every day…thank you. 

And to you, no matter what you are facing today, thank you for showing up and being ‘here’.  I do not know your story, but I know that it takes courage, determination and moxie to show up  for life when you are facing chronic illness.  And I am grateful that you stop by this blog to be ‘here’ too.  It makes a difference, and it encourages me too.  You see, “I’m here” too.  J

Dear God, You are Immanuel—God with us. We thank you for being HERE.  Help us this day to witness to your faithfulness, and give us the strength we need to do what you need us to do.  Even if that is encouraging others by just showing up.   Amen.

Acquainted with suffering

“He was despised and rejected by others;
   a man of suffering^* and acquainted with infirmity;
and as one from whom others hide their faces^*
   he was despised, and we held him of no account.” Isaiah 53:3

It is a normal human reaction to want to turn away from suffering—our own and the suffering of others.  Seeing suffering stirs up feelings about our own frailties, our own vulnerabilities…our own mortality.  And when the nature of another’s suffering is unfamiliar to us, or we do not know how to ‘fix’ it, it is very difficult to not turn away.

How many of us with long term mental or physical health challenges have encountered friends, family members, colleagues, or health personnel who have tried to give quick solutions, easy answers, or even dismissed symptoms as being “in our heads” because what we were facing was extremely difficult to face and answers were far from forthcoming?

Even as I write this, I must reflect that, as a pastor, I too remember times when another’s pain was too difficult and unfamiliar, and it was out of my power to make things better, and so I said something stupid, or made a quick exit.  Not because I necessarily wanted to, but because I didn’t know what else to do.  Often, I wasn’t even conscious of my turning away until later.

There are days on the journey of chronic illness where suffering is intense and can be ongoing. Things out of our control and understanding can knock us flat, figuratively and literally.  It is not an easy thing for me to name and admit.  I would much rather be that ‘brave’ person that talks about encouraging things and always looks on the bright side. But, folks, that’s not always our experience of life, is it? This journey can be very hard.  And certainly, suffering is not the monopoly of the chronically ill. Suffering is a part of life.  We just may have the opportunity to experience it more frequently in certain ways.

So where do we turn when the suffering is intense, the infirmity debilitating, and the pain nearly immobilizing?  Where do we turn when the world’s quick fixes, easy answers and simple solutions dissipate like dust in the wind in the face of our everyday reality?

Where do we turn when life just hurts? 

We turn to the one who is acquainted with infirmity.  We get to turn to the one who is familiar with suffering.  These phrases were used to describe the ‘suffering servant’ in Isaiah’s writings.  These were some words used to describe what God’s Messiah would be like, and they have become words to describe Jesus.  Where do we turn?  I invite us to turn to the cross.

It is on the cross we see that God’s answer to intense suffering, debilitating infirmity and immobilizing pain is not a pat answer or easy response, but a deep and very real understanding of the suffering of humanity.  It is in the cross that Jesus reveals to us a God that doesn’t run from suffering but runs to the suffering ones.  It is in the cross that we see the God who doesn’t abandon the hurting, but goes into the very depths of suffering.  It is the God who brings light into the darkest places, and brings new hope and transformation out of the bleakest situations. 

The cross is not an easy answer, or a quick fix.  It is the sign of the God who is in relationship with us no matter what—the God who is acquainted with suffering when others may turn away—the God who knows our infirmities and meets us in the middle of them with a transforming love that will never let us go. 

If you are hurting today, please know you are not alone. There are days where that's where I am too. There are others who come here who know what it is to face pain and suffering in many ways. I invite you to share with me and with others here what you are experiencing so we may be able to reach out and support you. 

But most of all, please know that Jesus understands what you are facing.  Turn to him. You will get much more than a quick answer or a temporary solution…you will get the presence of the One who knows what you are facing… you will get Jesus.

O God, hear the cries, the tears, the agony of your people. It isn’t pretty and most folks want and need to turn away from suffering, but we know that you don’t, and you won’t.  Where there are those who are hurting, be present, Lord. Bring comfort, peace and hope, and work through us to share compassion, comfort and understanding with those who suffer. Thank you for never abandoning the hurting and suffering—even when it is us.  Amen.

Just Keep Swimming

“Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, ‘The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; ²¹nor will they say, “Look, here it is!” or “There it is!” For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among^* you.’” Luke 17:20-21  NRSV

This morning as I woke to a cold, grey spring morning, and my bones and muscles ached, the words of an unusual philosopher came to mind. This philosopher has short term memory loss, has the gift of speaking whale (although not everyone believes her), and has an abiding trust in the ocean that surrounds her.  Her words:

 “Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming…”

The philosopher?  Dory, the Blue Tang Fish from the Disney Movie “Finding Nemo”.

Dory’s words, while making me laugh, also remind me of a deeper truth-  that we are supported and buoyed by a Grace that we often forget.  Mystics often describe God as the Ocean, the One whose current leads us and carries us even when we are not aware. 

Jesus’ words speak of the in-breaking of God’s kingdom right in our midst, and the parables point to God’s work among us. 

Like a fish in the water, we are not always aware of that which continues to make our hearts beat, or our brain synapses connect, or the air which oxygenates our blood. People surviving and thriving with chronic conditions, I think, have the gift of being very aware of systems that are extremely complex: of brain chemicals that are sensitive to changes, or psyches that process detailed memories and events, or immune systems that carry out systemic battle plans that would challenge any general, or autonomic nervous system reactions that happen for most people automatically, in the blink of an eye.  We have learned about these miraculous parts of the human body because, for us, things don’t work flawlessly. 

And yet, this morning, Jesus’ words, (and Dory’s words—as long as they are not in a whale dialect )  remind me that there is a great deal of love and support that still carries me in its current today. The Creator and Giver of life continues to sustain and buoy me. This is incredible in itself, but God is up to even more—working God's creative and redeeming work in and among us as well.  Even on this grey, achy day, this Ocean of Grace is working out a purpose and promise in and around my life… in other words – the kingdom of God is among us.

I may not “swim” easily today, but I am still alive and held in this Ocean of Grace.  Today I get to keep swimming…and that is a fabulous gift.

Incredible and fathomless God, like a fish in the ocean, I am most often forgetful of your continuing, loving presence and work that surrounds me.  Today, help me keep ‘swimming’ in your care. Amen.

Ask

Day 23- Ask

“Ask and it will be given to you; search and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you.”  Matthew 7:7 NRSV

Yesterday I had the joy and privilege of finally returning for a farewell reception at the congregation I most recently left.  Back in November when the POTS relapse hit me full-force, I was at church one day, and unable to come back the next.  For weeks I tried to rest and recover enough to return, but could not, and eventually had to resign. It was a very significant ministry for me to be part of, and not the ending I planned or wanted.  Yesterday was an important day.

Yesterday’s trip might not have happened. You see, the church was an hour away, and right now, I am still unable to drive long distances.  I become too tired and too light-headed to drive safely for a long time. Anything over ½ an hour and I need to have someone else take me.  The trip might not have been... well...because I’m stubborn.  

I’m not used to asking for help.  All my life I’ve been strong, determined, independent.  I’ve been the “helper”. If someone needed something, “sure, I can do it”.   If someone needed a ride, or a meal or some kind of support and help, I’d find a way to make it happen.  I like helping, and being the one to support others. 

In the past, when I’d hear Jesus words “Ask…search…knock…”  I would usually think of them in terms of entire congregations as we moved together through transitions.  Knock… and the way will be opened, seek… God’s presence and guidance and you will find it,  ask…and God will show you who the next pastor is that God is calling to serve you.  These were all very powerful  (and true!) understandings of this passage.

Since facing long-term illness, Jesus’ words have taken on a much more personal meaning for me.  I’ve also noticed, because of my stubbornness, the answer has been usually there and offered before I have been able to ask.  Such was the case with attending the farewell this weekend. Last week, a very dear person from the congregation, who has been calling and touching base with me regularly since I left, offered to drive. What they were offering meant four hours on the road for them, in order for me to be able to attend the farewell. 

It was an extravagantly generous offer of this person’s time.  In the past I wouldn’t have considered it. Now, I was presented with an answer even before I shared the need, likely because I would have never asked for such generous help.  I accepted, and the trip up and back was a gift, not only in travel, but in having the luxury of talking with this person one-on-one for two hours. I am deeply grateful that they offered.  I am thoroughly glad I asked for the help. I am even grateful of being put into the position where I had no choice but to ask.  It allowed me to see the grace and love that surrounds us every day.

We may not like having to ask for help. Many of us may be used to being the helper, and not want to be the ‘helpee’.  But in order to do some necessary and important things in living our lives, we likely need help.  Ask.

Are there people in your life who have offered to help you with something?  Ask them to help when you need it. Is there someone who has already seen a need?  Accept and ask for their help—it will bless you both.  Is there a problem that you cannot see the solution to?  Pray and ask—you’ll be amazed at the help that is offered.

Is there someone you can call and support, or encourage, even as you are unable to do some things?  Listen and see how God is still calling you to help others, right now. 

You see, it’s not about always being the helper or the recipient of help, it’s about helping each other as we are able to. The amazing thing is that God is able to weave together the needs with the help in to a beautiful pattern that we only get a glimpse of most days.  Today, I invite us all to ponder how we might continue to be part of  that pattern.  Will we ask?  Will we help?  Will we accept the help that has already been offered?    May we get a peek at that tapestry of God's love and generosity that is all around us.

Lord, you move in the hearts of people in so many generous and loving ways.  Crack open my stubbornness today to receive the generosity of another, even as you move in my heart to share generously of my gifts.  Amen.

You Raise Me Up By Selah

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
   the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
   his understanding is unsearchable.
²⁹ He gives power to the faint,
   and strengthens the powerless.
³⁰ Even youths will faint and be weary,
   and the young will fall exhausted;
³¹ but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
   they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
   they shall walk and not faint.   Isaiah 40:28-31

Today's post is a musical one for this Sunday.  Enjoy~

Kept

“The Lord is your keeper. The Lord is the shade at your right hand.  The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.  He will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.”  Psalm 121: 5, 7-8  NRSV

When I wake up in the morning, I need to lay in bed for a few minutes and gather my thoughts.  I can’t blame this on illness…I’ve always been a slow riser.  I think it comes from having once been a night owl.  Then, being married to a morning person, and having at least one child that’s a morning person…I had to acclimate quickly.  But that doesn’t make me a morning person J   (Actually, right now, I’m not a night owl either…I’m more of a 1:30-2 in the afternooon person!)

In those first few minutes of laying quietly in bed while slowly waking…everything seems possible at that time.  As I start to re-enter the waking world, I think about what I want to do with this day, what I need to do with this day…what others need me to do on this day—and it all seems possible.  My life seems to be in my own hands at that moment. 

And then I move…

I often know immediately what kind of day I’m going to have as soon as I start to move and get out of bed.  The lightheadedness and aching will either be a companion that day, or it will not.  The fatigue and exhaustion will either make themselves known immediately… or I will be aware of their absence.  Either way, as soon as I begin to move, I am aware that my life is not fully in my control. 

Most days for the past half-dozen months, as soon as I move,  the possibilities I’d laid out in my mind moments before suddenly have to be adapted.  When will I be able to take care of that errand?  At what point do I have to start getting ready so I can make that appointment? What will I have to cut from my day so I can have the energy for the few things I want and need to do?  And even some days:  What  do I need to cancel and reschedule, because I am not able to leave the house today?

In that moment between laying there quietly thinking and getting up to function, I become acutely aware that I am not always in charge of my “going outs” and my “coming ins”.  In the past I wouldn’t have even thought twice about this. Oh, I still would have grumbled about morning on the way to the shower—I am a recovering night owl, you know J-- but I really believed that all that I had planned in that day lay in my hands.

One of the rather surprising gifts in my experience with long term illness has become the daily reminders that my life is not in my hands.  Now, clearly, I have responsibility and choices for how I face each day—but ultimately, the gift of each day is not mine to give…only receive.

And so is the gift of a life that is not fully in my control.  The words of the Psalmist are a huge relief to me on the days when, in those first moments of movement I realize my plans for the day are going to be different than I envisioned.  “The Lord will keep your life. He will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and evermore.”  

Whether I am aware of it or not, my life rests in the gentle, loving hands of the One who created, redeemed and who still sustains me. Whether I can move easily, or am in pain; whether I am clear-headed or foggy and lightheaded; whether I am rested or fatigued, God keeps my life. 

Knowing that…can help even a night owl get out of bed in the morning.

Keeper of my life, thank you for your gentle care, even when I’m not aware of it. This day, remind me that you are ever-present and will hold me in your care, no matter what the day brings. Amen.

Mark Bezos: A life lesson from a volunteer firefighter | Video on TED.com

^“But whoever catches a glimpse of the revealed counsel of God—the free life!—even out of the corner of his eye, and sticks with it, is no distracted scatterbrain but a man or woman of action. That person will find delight and affirmation in the action.” James 1:25   The Message

This morning I am having difficulty with getting my hands to move as I want them to...and so typing is a real challenge.  I'm going to borrow a fabulous video post from a good friend, Padre Dave, from the PTSD and Ministry blog. (If you haven't checked out this blog, the link is at the bottom of the Chronic Hope page or click on http://www.ptsdministry.blogspot.com/)

Hope you enjoy the wisdom and words of Mark Bezos. Please click on the sentence about Mark Bezos that follows.

Mark Bezos: A life lesson from a volunteer firefighter Video on TED.com

Do what you are able to do…today. You have what you need to make a difference for someone else today. Share a kind and encouraging word with a phone call or note. Say thank you to someone you’ve been meaning to thank. Make a donation to help someone in crisis around the world, or in your neighborhood. Volunteer at a school to read a story to some pre-schoolers. Support something you believe in.

Who you are and what you do makes a difference… even if that means simply sharing the fire-fighter’s story with someone else and encouraging them.  Don’t wait.

Dear Lord, no matter what limits or challenges we face today, help us to put our faith in action, even in small ways.  We know you are able to utillize small actions to make a great difference for others.  Please accept what we do TODAY, and bless it for the good of others. Amen.

Unexpected opportunities

“Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, for ever and ever. Amen.”  Ephesians 3:20-21

I have always liked St. Patrick’s day, even though most of my heritage is German.   Once I heard the facts about St. Patrick himself, I grew to love this day and find great strength and inspiration in the celebration of this tenacious and amazing person of faith.

Patrick was believed to be a Roman, living in England. When he was 14 years old, he found himself captured and enslaved in Ireland.  He was forced to herd sheep. For 6 long years he was far from home and family, in a situation that he didn’t seek out, in territory that was strange and difficult. He turned to God, often praying 100 times a day, and 100 more in the night. “"I prayed in the woods and on the mountain, even before dawn. I felt no hurt from the snow or ice or rain."- St. Patrick

After a dream from God, he escaped by the coast and was reunited with his family.  He became a priest, and after another dream where Ireland was calling him back to serve and minister among them, he returned to the place he’d been enslaved.  He spent the next 40 years teaching people about God and establishing churches in Ireland.  He is legendary for using everyday things like the clover to teach about God.

What inspires me, this day, is that out of the midst of an unwanted and very difficult experience, Patrick turned to God and was able to see possibilities and new opportunities.  He courageously let God work through him in ways he couldn’t have expected. 

You and I may very well be finding  ourselves in a situation that we didn’t seek out, and in territory that is strange and difficult. How will we respond?

Will we keep turning to God and see what unexpected opportunities open up for us to share God’s love with others?  Will we look beyond the obvious trappings of our situation and dare to believe that God can work through us?  Can we dare to believe that all of our experiences can be tools for pointing others to God’s loving care, even if we cannot possibly fathom ‘how’ right now? 

Like Patrick, you and I have a purpose on this earth.  How will we let our circumstances open up new doors and new opportunities for sharing the faith today? 

Dear Lord, our experiences in life are not always what we expect them to be.  Utilize us just as we are, so that we can meet others where they are and share your love with them.  Amen.

Where do we turn?

"I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where will my help come?  My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth."  Psalm 121:1-2

When I first became ill three years ago, I began a practice of limiting how much news and media I listened to each day. I found that the overabundance of news that I could access would often overwhelm and exhaust me. Even today, I am careful to be selective about how much I follow the events in the world. I think it is important for those fighting long-term illness to determine for themselves how much they will focus on local and world issues.  I am not saying we should isolate ourselves, but rather, that with everything else, we may have different limits on what we can cope with than people without chronic illness.  We already often have things we are experiencing that are extremely time and energy consuming. In order to be helpful to ourselves and to others we need to be aware of this.
Having said this, I also have found that it is extremely important for me to have things outside of myself that require my attention.  When I'm feeling lousy, it is very easy for me to turn in on myself. So finding that balance is important for me.  This blog itself is an attempt to reach out to others, and to get "over myself" as a good friend of mine says.

As I write the blog this morning, my heart is deeply touched by the events in Japan, and I am compelled to shift focus a bit today.  As news trickles out of Japan regarding the earthquake, tsunami and now the nuclear reactor problems, I want to encourage us all to take some time today and keep the victims, the rescue workers and all of the people of Japan in our thoughts and prayers.

My background is as a Lutheran Christian, but I expect and hope that there are people of other faiths who read this blog, and people who express their understanding of the Divine in many ways.  However you express and communicate your faith, be it in prayer, in song, in lighting a candle, or a moment of silence,  I would ask you to remember the people of Japan today. 

Holy One, we lift our eyes to you today. As we face our own daily challenges, we also turn our hearts and our thoughts to those facing very difficult and life-threatening experiences in Japan. Be with,  comfort, strengthen and help the victims, workers, family and relatives and all the people affected in anyway by the disaster and aftermath. Help us to help others in whatever ways we are able, so we may be your hands and feet of compassion in this world.  Amen.

Dancing with the Unknown

1 Corinthians 13:12  “For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.”

Our daughter told me the other day that my illness reminded her of a game show.  Intrigued, (and quite surprised)  I asked her to explain. “Mom, what you’re going through is like Deal or No Deal.  You have something, and the new symptoms you’re experiencing mean something.  Every test they run is like opening a new case to see what it holds, and every time it comes back ‘normal’ it is like it’s ruled out from the big board.  One of these days they’ll figure out what’s in the case you have, and can figure out how to work with it.” 

We joked a bit about, “Gee, where’s the ‘banker’ in all of this?”, but I thought her reflection was really insightful.  Deal or No Deal is a game of the unknown, and trying to guess and know what cannot be seen.  For those who are having symptoms and are not yet diagnosed, or who have diagnoses, but new symptoms, life can be a very big time of not knowing.

Not knowing causes anxiety for most of us.  We Google stuff, we search out answers, we expect to ‘know’ the answers to the questions we have…particularly when it comes to illness.  Our technology has become so refined, the diagnostic tools so remarkable, that we come to expect the answers to be known.

I’ve come to think of Chronic illness as a dance of the unknown.  I wake up in the morning not knowing how I will feel or how many ‘spoons’ I’ll have (see link to Spoon Theory at bottom of page).  I go into a store, or church or one of our kids’ sporting events not knowing if I’ll be able to stay through the whole thing.  I go to bed at night not sure if I’ll wake up with an adrenalin burst that makes me want to paint the whole house (…which, by the way, I’ve never done  on one of those bursts J).  I go into a doctor’s office no knowing if today is the day I get more answers, or if we all decide to keep slowly trying options and pushing forward.

Long-term illness can be very much like seeing in a mirror, dimly.  Or trying to navigate a car through the fog. 

Now, I know this doesn’t sound like much fun, but stay with me here for another minute or two…because this morning as I was pondering this blog post, I found myself encouraged and grateful for the opportunity to dance with the unknown.  In a very odd, and surprising way, the experiences of dealing with the unknown so often, have brought me to realize that the unknown brings delightful things…like this morning, a day of energy that was unexpected and unknown- and I gratefully found myself dancing through what used to be mundane chores.  Dancing with the unknown has given me the opportunity to practice entrusting myself and my family to God’s care every night, in ways I never before would have considered.  Dancing with the unknowns of life has given me the eyes to see, albeit dimly, the opportunities that open up to us in the ‘now’, where in the past I would have waited until I was stronger, healthier, more ready, etc.

Dancing with the unknown has helped me to see that whatever is in the ‘case’ that I have (going with the Deal or No Deal analogy)  that case is still a gift, and I am reminded more often to just simply be thankful for the gift of life…the gift of hearing our kids laugh, our dogs snore in contentment, the rain come down on the roof,   the breeze blow briskly on my face and all the other moments I would have missed before because I would have assumed I ‘knew’ everything.

Dancing with the unknown in our lives is not easy, but it is a dance that we may simply find is the dance of our lives.  It is where we are.

Someday, we will know. Someday we will see clearly.  But for me and for many of us…that is not today.  For today I get to trust that the One who knows me and sees me still holds me in tender care, no matter how much I mess up the ‘dance moves’… and that is the biggest gift of all.

Dancing, knowing God, move us today in your tender care. Amen.

Very Tempting

Matthew 4:1-11

Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil. ²He fasted for forty days and forty nights, and afterwards he was famished. ³The tempter came and said to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, command these stones to become loaves of bread.’ ⁴But he answered, ‘It is written,
“One does not live by bread alone,
   but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.” ’

5 Then the devil took him to the holy city and placed him on the pinnacle of the temple, ⁶saying to him, ‘If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down; for it is written,
“He will command his angels concerning you”,
   and “On their hands they will bear you up,
so that you will not dash your foot against a stone.” ’ ⁷Jesus said to him, ‘Again it is written, “Do not put the Lord your God to the test.” ’

8 Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendour; ⁹and he said to him, ‘All these I will give you, if you will fall down and worship me.’ ¹⁰Jesus said to him, ‘Away with you, Satan! for it is written,
“Worship the Lord your God,
   and serve only him.” ’ ¹¹Then the devil left him, and suddenly angels came and waited on him

Today I have included this whole interaction between Jesus and the devil because this temptation story is very powerful.  We read that Jesus was led into the wilderness by the Spirit, so that he would be tempted.  This first verse is surprising!  He starts out his ministry by intentionally being put into a situation that tempts him?  Well, you never get stronger in dealing with something if you never have to face it, do you?  So his preparation was to be in the wilderness. He fasted 40 days and 40 nights. He was famished and vulnerable. 

It was at that point the tempter came. These three temptations don’t sound so awful when we read them, but listen carefully--  “if you are the Son of God…”  the devil says.  This isn’t just about Jesus feeding himself, or giving into temptation to prove himself (although that is a part of it)… this is about trusting God above all else.  The tempter offers Jesus some pretty amazing things:  he ability to make stones into bread—there are enough stones in the desert that he could end hunger and feed everyone; or having the assurance that the angels will catch him if he jumps off the temple—that he’s invincible;  or that he could rule all the nations—finally get things straightened out and have everyone worship God.  All of these temptations SOUND good, and could be tempting to use for the right reasons, but for Jesus the cost was too high.

Jesus eventually would feed thousands, and he was ministered to by angels on more than one occasion, and finally, as crucified and risen Lord Jesus became King of Kings and Lord of Lords…but all of this was by a much different and much more difficult path than the tempter offered.

So what does this have to do with chronic illness?  Like most of these texts that I’ve worked with for 18+ years, I see them with new eyes now that I’m fighting long term illness.  The things that would tempt me in the past no longer have much power over me (except chocolate, of course J ).  As I read Jesus’ encounter with temptation, I ponder  what would really tempt me now?  What might the tempter come to test me with…and I realize that I’ve already faced some of these.

…the temptation to just be “well” no matter the cost…I could do so much more ‘good’ if I were well.

…the temptation to believe the lie that God has deserted me.

…the temptation to believe that if God were just in control, I wouldn’t be sick. 

The tempter offers Jesus, and us, the easy way out, the easy explanation, and the quick fix.  Don’t get me wrong… I believe there are miracles that God works of healing in people’s lives.  What I’m pointing to are the times we…I am tempted to give up trusting God and take matters into my own hands. 

Jesus’  encounter with temptation reminds and encourages us to hold fast to the promises and Word of God, to not trust the quick fix or the easy word.  He also shows us that the way to be stronger is right thorough the middle of the difficult stuff of life. 

The cross and the empty tomb remind us that God’s own son took the difficult path, not the path of easy answers, and it has made all the difference in the world.  And Jesus knows that path first-hand.  He will not shy away from walking with us on the difficult path, but will guide us so we may grow stronger, and deeper in faith as we trust that God cares for us tenderly no matter the path that lie ahead.

Dear Lord, by taking the challenging and testing road, you show us a way of faith that is deep, mature and rich,  but certainly not easy.  As we walk the path of faith that is laid before us, walk by our side, help us face temptation faithfully, and nurture in us a strong, deep faith that will help lead others.  Amen.