Yesterday was a phenominal day. My parents are seriously the most amazing people I have ever known - you should have seen the way that they worked so hard on building a ramp for me the night before my appointment. I kept hearing the drill over and over and over again, and I just started laughing. It's a looooong ramp. Kind of scary actually because the momentum really gets going on it, and I have to wear gloves so I don't get wheelchair burns. Ha ha, seriously! Oh man. Wheelchair burns. My dad ended up having to pull me down because I was holding onto the rims so tight. I mean, I was going backwards, couldn't see where I was going, and I was going fast. Talk about trust. But that's another entry...
They hoisted me into the car, my arms over each of their necks. They are almost fifty, and they're lifting their 23-year-old daughter into a van. I just laughed and said, "Thought you were done with this when I was three, didn't you?" God works in really funny ways, I must say. He definitely has a sense of humor. I think it's important that we should have one too. : ) (And, I can't even tell you how hard I have to work to not put smiley faces after everything I say when I'm blogging. Ugh. I love my colon and parenthesis.)
Anyway, we tackled the feat of me getting in the car, and only had to go back into the house three times for things I had forgotten. Then we were off! And, suprisingly, we were on time for my appointment. We made our way in, (it was kind of fun to ride in the wheelchair...when someone else is pushing you. Especially when that someone is your dad, who likes to go really fast, and also sees riding in a wheelchair as a fun thing.) The nurse who called me in was nice, but she didn't seem to know where I was supposed to go. I get worried about that kind of thing, I don't know why, but she kept saying that I was going to "casting" where they put on your casts, and we kept saying, "But we're here for x-ray." We just went with her chart. Turns out that I was going to casting first so they could take off my casts. She cut away my ace bandages (here's me, "Wait! We could have re-used those!), and then started to pry the plaster of paris off of my legs. I felt so naked. The moment I saw blood I closed my eyes. I told you I wasn't going to look. And I didn't. I made it through the whole day without seeing my legs somehow.
I had to have extra pillows put underneath my legs because the muscles were quivering. After two weeks! My legs have weakened so much. That was kind of scary. Anyway, the lady finished pulling the stuff that was stuck to my legs off, slipped some really soft socks over them, and I was on my way to x-ray. I got there and the technicians didn't realize how honkin' huge my plates were, so we had to re-take pictures of my right leg. Nothing like a little exposure to some yummy x-rays. I hid behind the little "sit-upon" mat they give you to protect your body like I was being shot at. You should have seen me going into the CT scans a couple of weeks ago...I was fiercely praying that I wouldn't get cancer. I have this fear of cancer...also another entry.
Removal of casts? Check. X-Rays? Check. Feeling pretty darn vulnerable as they are wheeling me from place to place, bump over bump with NOTHING to protect my legs? Check. Next we move onto the removal of the stitches. I won't go into it, but the cast lady said I did a good job. She said most people cry and scream - I couldn't feel it too badly. I believe it was one of those ways that God intervened because he knows how much I can handle. I had a baby C-section skirt in my lap to hold over my eyes while my parents ooooed & awwwed. My mom looked pretty grossed out in the beginning, but she grew used to it. My dad took pictures the whole time, and shows them to everyone that comes over. If you have a weak stomach and come to visit, be prepared. Speak up. Don't be embarrassed because I haven't seen them yet either.
The doctor came in after the cast lady had scrubbed my legs clean (ow), and reiterated the fact that he surpassed his own expectations (another way that God had clearly worked) - everything looked great. The spill I had taken when I first got home hadn't ruined any of his masterpiece(s). He wants to see me again (oo-la-la) in five weeks. The right leg goes in a boot (which is amazing because I broke two giant bones), and has therapy coming its way. The left leg stays in the cast, and CANNOT be touched, prodded, jiggled too hard, manhandled, or dropped. I'm not allowed to put any weight on it, whatsoever, and he gave me a mean look when I asked him about moving from my commode to the bed & putting pressure on my heels. No. No weight. Whatsoever. Whoops.
So yeah. My legs were recasted after that (with the assistance of my dad), and I was on my way! After some bullying of my ankles, of course. She had to push them back into a flat-footed position because when they were naked, they would droop. Ha ha. Seriously! They fell over, and I couldn't control it. I think it's because they were ashamed of their nakedness.
I picked black. That seemed to be the vote on Facebook, but this guy walked out and had black, and it looked sharp. I asked the lady if she would do zebra, and she said she would. She actually suggested candy cane. Ha ha. I'm not that adventurous. Yet. Muah ha ha ha. I should have asked her if she could have made a face on it with all the different colors. Or a landscape. I think what I might do next time is get glow-in the dark white, and commission someone to paint a landscape all over it.
The casts are a lot lighter than the original ones, so I can lift my legs a lot easier which is good. They feel so safe and snug in their new little homes. They did not like being naked. I have not felt that vulnerable in public for a long time. I was freakin' out! "Don't let anyone bump into my legs! Dad! Get up there and block anyone from getting too close! Mom, you were really close to that wall, are you watching where you are going?" I was a wreck. Feeling naked in public is not a fun feeling, but I'm so thankful that I had people around me to protect me. I felt like a baby elephant in the middle of all the momma and daddy elephants.
It make me wonder about Eden, and how it must have felt to be naked all of the time. Like, they didn't even realize it, but that's so incomprehensible to me. I'm just so glad that no poopy snakes came out to attack me in the middle of Froedtert Hospital. And that there were no fruit trees in the lobby. Seriously though, I know the fall has already happened, but feeling that naked helped me to relate to how Adam and Eve must have felt when they first realized that they were naked. I'm sure they were freaking out! Maybe yelling at each other or crying or feeling completely out of control. And, I'm so glad that God has so much compassion on his kids...that he knows what we need, even beyond what we know & can see. He reached out to them first, made them clothes, and told him that he still loved them. I'm so glad!
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Hope.
Tomorrow is my first doctor's appointment since I left the hospital. I was supposed to be there for two weeks, but ended up leaving after five days. It's the super-human strength I possess. Ha ha. Yeah right. It's because the surgeon decided to pack two surgeries into one. And my parents are amazing. The funniest part is that he actually said to us, "I wasn't very hopeful about the surgery, but I am really surprised at how well it went. I'm really proud of our work." Freeeeeeakyyyyyy. So technically I would have been leaving the hospital tomorrow, but I am actually re-entering it. Funny, huh. I am so thankful for this doctor though; he has this doctory way about him, but he's really funny at the same time. Like in a dad-humor kind of way.
He gave me great hope when he said that he was proud of his work. He wasn't hopeful in the beginning, but then in the end it worked out just fine. They are still unsure about my left foot, the one I broke my talus bone in. (See Talus here: http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/topic.cfm?topic=A00170) I found this wonderful website last week after googling "talus bone". A fractured talus bone means, "your foot function will be impaired, you will develop arthritis and chronic pain, and the bone may collapse."..."If the blood supply is disrupted, the bone tissue could die, a condition called avascular necrosis or osteonecrosis. This could cause the bone to collapse. Even if the bones heal properly, you may still experience arthritis in later years. Most of the talus is covered with articular cartilage, which enables bones to move smoothly against each other. If the cartilage is damaged, the bones will rub against each other, resulting in pain and stiffness." Sometimes ignorance is bliss. And this stuff may happen, not will happen. But still.
Now, the doctor said that he had to remove a lot of "giblets" from my foot - that's orthopaedic surgeon terms for excess bone and cartilage. My talus bone being fractured was a really big deal - it has four screws in it (left foot), and my right leg has 18, but they are more concerned about the left foot. Even if the bones heal properly, I may experience arthritis in later years.
"Where is the hope in that?", you may wonder, but I'm just going to get straight to the point.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls. -1 Peter 1:3-9
Can you believe that these words are actually in the Bible? I mean, think about it. The Bible is at least two thousand years old. Peter, the author, wrote these things down - a completely different person from a completely different time period. And yet it's completely and totally applicable to my life. And to your life. This is what I love most about being a Christ-follower...the food of God is so filling. I used to get so confused by the Bible, but sticking with it for 13 years has been a blessing. We're becoming good, good friends.
For some of you, these verses may be kind of intense. Fire, salvation of your souls, new birth, resurrection...there are a lot of heavy things in these verses, but for those of you who haven't ever committed your lives to following this man, Jesus, I want you to ponder this: "Though we have not seen him, we can love him, believe in him, and be filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy."
I feel so much hope because I love Jesus. I've given my life to him, my future to him, my relationship status on Facebook to him, my family to him, my time to him, my things to him, my gifts to him, my failures to him: everything. I'm constantly surrendering everything to him. And he takes it all, and gives me love. Grace. Mercy. Wisdom. Guidance. Patience. Peace. Kindness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Love.
Tomorrow is going to be a really, really rough day, and I'm probably going to cry a lot. I don't like hearing that I'm going to be in pain for what will probably the rest of my life. I want to play frisbee again, and go rock climbing again, and to be able to take my grandchildren for long walks to the park. The continual sinking in of not being able to walk for three months is really hard for me. I say this not so that you will feel bad for me, but so that you know that at the exact same time, I feel an inexpressible and glorious joy. And it's NOT because I'm a strong person, or because I'm good at heart, or I've been a good person in my life, but because I am being filled. The Bible says that this hope is alive, like, it has a heart-beat and everything. Though we may suffer, we can still rejoice; I pray that you find much hope in that, and that it causes you to truly think about why you are living your life. Because, as I've said before, following Jesus wherever he leads is scary, hard, and sometimes painful, but it is so WORTH IT! To be filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy is...well..inexpressible.
Thank you, Abba, for hope. The hope that we have in you. To You be the praise, honor, and glory.
He gave me great hope when he said that he was proud of his work. He wasn't hopeful in the beginning, but then in the end it worked out just fine. They are still unsure about my left foot, the one I broke my talus bone in. (See Talus here: http://orthoinfo.aaos.org/topic.cfm?topic=A00170) I found this wonderful website last week after googling "talus bone". A fractured talus bone means, "your foot function will be impaired, you will develop arthritis and chronic pain, and the bone may collapse."..."If the blood supply is disrupted, the bone tissue could die, a condition called avascular necrosis or osteonecrosis. This could cause the bone to collapse. Even if the bones heal properly, you may still experience arthritis in later years. Most of the talus is covered with articular cartilage, which enables bones to move smoothly against each other. If the cartilage is damaged, the bones will rub against each other, resulting in pain and stiffness." Sometimes ignorance is bliss. And this stuff may happen, not will happen. But still.
Now, the doctor said that he had to remove a lot of "giblets" from my foot - that's orthopaedic surgeon terms for excess bone and cartilage. My talus bone being fractured was a really big deal - it has four screws in it (left foot), and my right leg has 18, but they are more concerned about the left foot. Even if the bones heal properly, I may experience arthritis in later years.
"Where is the hope in that?", you may wonder, but I'm just going to get straight to the point.
"Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade. This inheritance is kept in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power until the coming of the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time. In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith—of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed. Though you have not seen him, you love him; and even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and are filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy, for you are receiving the end result of your faith, the salvation of your souls. -1 Peter 1:3-9
Can you believe that these words are actually in the Bible? I mean, think about it. The Bible is at least two thousand years old. Peter, the author, wrote these things down - a completely different person from a completely different time period. And yet it's completely and totally applicable to my life. And to your life. This is what I love most about being a Christ-follower...the food of God is so filling. I used to get so confused by the Bible, but sticking with it for 13 years has been a blessing. We're becoming good, good friends.
For some of you, these verses may be kind of intense. Fire, salvation of your souls, new birth, resurrection...there are a lot of heavy things in these verses, but for those of you who haven't ever committed your lives to following this man, Jesus, I want you to ponder this: "Though we have not seen him, we can love him, believe in him, and be filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy."
I feel so much hope because I love Jesus. I've given my life to him, my future to him, my relationship status on Facebook to him, my family to him, my time to him, my things to him, my gifts to him, my failures to him: everything. I'm constantly surrendering everything to him. And he takes it all, and gives me love. Grace. Mercy. Wisdom. Guidance. Patience. Peace. Kindness. Faithfulness. Gentleness. Love.
Tomorrow is going to be a really, really rough day, and I'm probably going to cry a lot. I don't like hearing that I'm going to be in pain for what will probably the rest of my life. I want to play frisbee again, and go rock climbing again, and to be able to take my grandchildren for long walks to the park. The continual sinking in of not being able to walk for three months is really hard for me. I say this not so that you will feel bad for me, but so that you know that at the exact same time, I feel an inexpressible and glorious joy. And it's NOT because I'm a strong person, or because I'm good at heart, or I've been a good person in my life, but because I am being filled. The Bible says that this hope is alive, like, it has a heart-beat and everything. Though we may suffer, we can still rejoice; I pray that you find much hope in that, and that it causes you to truly think about why you are living your life. Because, as I've said before, following Jesus wherever he leads is scary, hard, and sometimes painful, but it is so WORTH IT! To be filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy is...well..inexpressible.
Thank you, Abba, for hope. The hope that we have in you. To You be the praise, honor, and glory.
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Fear.
My parents recently adopted two Springer Spaniels last fall. They are beautiful dogs, and after our Beagle died three years ago, my whole family was itching for new members. I think it was an attempt to ease the pain of a move that my sisters would have to endure, and it worked a little. Plus, my parents have something to keep them busy once the twins move out of the house in a couple of years. That's my thought anyway. But they seriously are like my parents new children.
The sad part is that they were abused as puppies, and our guess is that they were puppy mill dogs. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Puppy_mill) They are originally from Missouri (found frollicking around in the wild), and a friend of mine was fostering them when my mom ran into her at the grocery store. One thing led to another, and I came home from school to find these two adopted puppies in our house. My sisters named them Avery and Louise - one is black, and one is brown.
Because they weren't trained (or taken care of for that matter) at a young age, they have a lot of...well, issues. Specifically with submission - Louise's response to fear & submission is just to pee. If you go up to her without her coming to you first, she'll pee immediately. Avery on the other hand, she bites. She's so afraid of people that she will (try to) bite them in complete and utter fear. This is a huge issue in our household right now because we love her, we don't want them to be separated, we thought we could train her not to bite, but we can't have a biting dog in our house. I'm so sad because I've just fallen in love with her - she's such a cool dog once she's relaxed, and she feels safe.
Tonight, she lunged at someone that was dropping off dinner, and that was the "last straw" for my mom. She loves having people over, and she has a huge heart for serving others - it's too much of a burden for her to carry all of the time. My dad immediately corrected her behavior, and she laid down in her bed. If dogs could cry, she would have been crying. You could tell in her posture that she was ashamed; the way that she was hiding under a footrest showed that she knew she had done something wrong. My parents have no idea what to do because training is really, really expensive - about the same as my bedside toilet that I need to survive, but the insurance company disagrees. Pray for us because we don't know what to do next.
I think that sometimes I respond the same way as Avery. For example, I am really fearful of what my legs look like underneath my casts. I haven't seen my legs since before I fell off of the rock climbing wall - I wouldn't look at them the entire night or morning. When people told me I should, I just geeked out, and was like, "No! I'm not looking at them. Are you serious!?" Now I'm afraid to look at them because they're all cut up. Pretty soon they will atrophy and I won't even have any leggies left. Now, I'm not discouraged by any of this; I think it's funny. I'm going to have legs the size of baseball bats! Come on, that's funny. But I will NOT look at them until I absolutely have to, and I get snappy when pushed.
Seriously though, I am especially afraid of what the future holds, especially concerning my career. I've been struggling for quite some time with what I'm "supposed to be doing", and I still am afraid of what I should do next.
Like my beautiful dog, I sometimes get defensive when people ask me what I'm doing these days. I have no reason to, but I just put up this distant front, and answer very minimally, sort of sharking around the question. I think I've hurt quite a few people's feelings in the last year - people who have been praying for me, and wishing the best for me...they honestly want to know how I'm doing. I just feel like I've failed in so many ways. Because I have. Failure is a part of life, but failure makes me deeply, deeply afraid. It is one of the great fears in my life. I don't like admitting that to people.
Fear of failure is also very stupid because it's a fact of life. I need to just learn from my failure, and not run and hide under the footrest and cry. But that's what I do. When I fail, I beat myself up and I talk myself down, and I run in circles which perpetuates more failure and negative thinking.
Philippians 4:12-13 says, "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.”
This is a verse that is quoted quite often, right? "I can do everything through him who gives me strength." When I first started going to church, and heard this verse, I thought, "Whoa. I could do anything." In 11-year-old terms, I think I went immediately to flying or jumping from a cliff or eating more candy that any human ever has...stuff that is selfishly based, and would "test" whether or not God was real. (And I think I'm still tempted to do that. Just to clarify though, I did not fall off of a rock climbing wall to test God... : )
I think what Paul is really talking about is the verse right before that - "I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want..." When we make choices, life happens. Our choice is ours alone - we should aim to please God & serve him, worship him, love him, and strive to live like him.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Honest.
So many people have been saying to me, "Make sure you take time to be honest with yourself. Don't hold all of those feelings inside. They will resurface later." I so appreciate people reminding me of this; I'm not quite sure how to check myself on this, but I don't think I'm holding anything inside. I'm pretty sure that this post will demonstrate that in about...45 seconds. I had a good cry yesterday afternoon - I have felt incredibly humbled by several things that have happened in my life that I will never forget & I pray that in time they will teach me to be more compassionate and patient with others. Yesterday was an all-around rough day. Even though it was my sisters' birthday, I just felt different. I view this accident as a blessing to my life; I was so thankful to be home with the twins & watch them open their gifts! But, yesterday was the first day that I was genuinely sad. Here's why:
I went off of one dose of Morphine in the morning (which wasn't noticable at all, thank the Lord), but took all three of my stool softeners. I pooped, which is the job of the S.S. (sorry for you who don't like bodily functions), and it was the biggest poop of my entire life. Hands down. Thee. Biggest. My mom, dad, and I laughed about it for like five minutes. Mom wouldn't let me take a picture. (Sorry for you who really do like bodily functions.)
Then, an hour later, they had to leave to go run some errands. It was totally fine when they left - I felt so good about life. I had my computer, my books, and my water. I was set.
Then it happened. They had been gone a while, when I had to poop again. The S.S. had done their job, and my body was no longer in control. (I've been praying for this for days, right?!) I fumbled with my phone, trying to text my dad & tell them to come home. It seriously took me a minute because I couldn't figure out how to spell diarreah (freakin' double r's). He texted me right back saying that my mom was in the store; she was checking out, and they would soon be home. I felt just a glimmer of hope, like, "Okay. False alarm. I'm still going to be comfortable. He called every four minutes to give me their stats. I have an amazing dad.
But then, it hit me again, harder than before. I just laid there screaming this time at God, "NO! NO! GOD! You know I can't handle this right now! Please do not humble me in this way! God, please! No!" I don't even remember how many times I said no to him. Just sobbing and screaming at him. I spent who knows how long this way, and then realized that I wasn't going to be able to wait until my parents got home. Luckily there was a gift bag filled with art supplies, and I quickly dumped it out & used it as you would a mattress for a baby's changing table.
I won't describe anything else to you because it's really graphic, but I haven't cried that hard in a long time. I just sat there in agony and shame. The only two times I've broken down in this whole ordeal were yesterday, and in the hospital when I had to have an Enema. I didn't even know what an Enema was.
I can't believe I'm telling you this story. I told the girls & Alaina not to tell anyone, and here I am, BLOGGING about pooping in my bed. But, as I've often said, this is God's story, and he uses even the grossest of things. I know that some things are personal, and there are things I haven't talked about & won't, but there is a spiritual connection, so stick with me, okay?
I got to thinking in between sobs that I don't get that upset over things in life that really, truly matter. Like, when was the last time that I truly weeped and cried out to God about the poverty that I've seen in my city, or the fact that every 11 seconds someone dies of AIDS, or that up to 3 million people in the world (mostly children) are going to die of Malaria* this year alone? Why can't I sob over things like that? So then I started sobbing some more about things like that. It turned into, "I'm sorry God! I'm so so sorry! I'm sorry that I don't get upset over things that matter!"
Cited:
http://www.wrongdiagnosis.com/artic/malaria_niaid_fact_sheet_niaid.htm
I went off of one dose of Morphine in the morning (which wasn't noticable at all, thank the Lord), but took all three of my stool softeners. I pooped, which is the job of the S.S. (sorry for you who don't like bodily functions), and it was the biggest poop of my entire life. Hands down. Thee. Biggest. My mom, dad, and I laughed about it for like five minutes. Mom wouldn't let me take a picture. (Sorry for you who really do like bodily functions.)
Then, an hour later, they had to leave to go run some errands. It was totally fine when they left - I felt so good about life. I had my computer, my books, and my water. I was set.
Then it happened. They had been gone a while, when I had to poop again. The S.S. had done their job, and my body was no longer in control. (I've been praying for this for days, right?!) I fumbled with my phone, trying to text my dad & tell them to come home. It seriously took me a minute because I couldn't figure out how to spell diarreah (freakin' double r's). He texted me right back saying that my mom was in the store; she was checking out, and they would soon be home. I felt just a glimmer of hope, like, "Okay. False alarm. I'm still going to be comfortable. He called every four minutes to give me their stats. I have an amazing dad.
But then, it hit me again, harder than before. I just laid there screaming this time at God, "NO! NO! GOD! You know I can't handle this right now! Please do not humble me in this way! God, please! No!" I don't even remember how many times I said no to him. Just sobbing and screaming at him. I spent who knows how long this way, and then realized that I wasn't going to be able to wait until my parents got home. Luckily there was a gift bag filled with art supplies, and I quickly dumped it out & used it as you would a mattress for a baby's changing table.
I won't describe anything else to you because it's really graphic, but I haven't cried that hard in a long time. I just sat there in agony and shame. The only two times I've broken down in this whole ordeal were yesterday, and in the hospital when I had to have an Enema. I didn't even know what an Enema was.
I can't believe I'm telling you this story. I told the girls & Alaina not to tell anyone, and here I am, BLOGGING about pooping in my bed. But, as I've often said, this is God's story, and he uses even the grossest of things. I know that some things are personal, and there are things I haven't talked about & won't, but there is a spiritual connection, so stick with me, okay?
I got to thinking in between sobs that I don't get that upset over things in life that really, truly matter. Like, when was the last time that I truly weeped and cried out to God about the poverty that I've seen in my city, or the fact that every 11 seconds someone dies of AIDS, or that up to 3 million people in the world (mostly children) are going to die of Malaria* this year alone? Why can't I sob over things like that? So then I started sobbing some more about things like that. It turned into, "I'm sorry God! I'm so so sorry! I'm sorry that I don't get upset over things that matter!"
Psalm 77:1 says, "I cried out to God for help. I cried out to God to hear me." David, the author of this verse, is going through an incredibly personal, intense, agonizing journey, (and it's out for everyone to read). I have often resonated with David throughout my life, but yesterday, I knew exactly what he meant.
I've already blogged about humility & suffering, and this was definitely both, but tonight I want to be honest. The tears of shame that spilled onto my shirt turned to tears of repentance for not being more expressive about my sadness about the injustices in the world. The things that make God want to puke - the things that make him sob uncontrollably. I have prayed in the last months that God would allow me to feel the way he feels, and yesterday, he was honest with me. He allowed me to taste a tiny, tiny bit of the sorrow that he feels everyday towards his people; the people who wander aimlessly, desperately searching for something more. The Bible talks about this as blindness sometimes, and as blind people might search, scraping their knees & bumping into poles & enduring taunting from others around them, feeling their way in the dark; God feels such compassion towards them. He feels compassion towards me. And I'm so glad that I have found him, and He has found me. I can run into his arms, with the freedom of Christ, with sheer abandonment & with shameless, honest love.
Cited:
http://www.wrongdiagnosis.com/artic/malaria_niaid_fact_sheet_niaid.htm
Monday, November 8, 2010
Time.
Sitting in bed all day means that you have a lot of time. Time to think. Pray. Laugh. Think some more. Go on Facebook. There are an endless number of opportunities. When a dozen of my beautiful friends came to visit me in the hospital came to visit me last week, I asked them, "What would you do if you had 3 months to do whatever you wanted, and couldn't walk?" The list that we came up with was super fun (but I can't find it!)
This week, I've been in think mode. I tried to paint, but my water cup seems to go missing because I fall asleep while I'm in the middle of a stroke. I tried reading, but I don't want to hear other people's stories of suffering just yet. God has fixed my eyes upon Jesus, and I want to soak it up. I don't want to be distracted. So I've tried reading, but I can't get into the stories. I've tried a Rubik's Cube, but I got frustrated. So then I end up going on Facebook. I'm trying not to be on there for more than an hour each day...so far...meh. I'm there maybe 2. All that to say that I need time to think & process what has happened to me. This process of reflection is why I'm writing in my blog so much I think.
This leads me to the art of stalking. I could be a professional Facebook stalker. I spent 30 minutes today just indulging myself in a good ol' trip around the book of Face. You know what I found?
We are not long here.
Babies magically growing into toddlers, toddlers to big kids, big kids to teens, teens to adults...I've felt like an adult for a long time. Ever since my friend Jenni C. from Faith Church said, "You are an adult! I didn't recognize you with that purse on!" when I was like 17. That was the moment that I grew up. But to see so many babies holding their younger siblings that are babies because they themselves are no longer babies. It was so surreal.
My baby sisters turn 16 today. Sixteen. I can remember when they were born, and when my mom & dad brought them home from the hospital. It was a hard season for my parents because they were premature, and my mom spent countless nights crying at the hospital because she wasn't sure Nat was going to live. Jen & I weren't allowed to touch them until we took a shower, and man, that was the fastest shower of my life. The babies were so warm and small. Nat was "my" baby, and Mal was "Jen's" baby for a while. And I just remember holding them. I remember when we moved to Illinois and we had this baby cage blocking in our huge living room - it's where they learned to walk and run. All four of us would all run around in the huge space. Their hair smelled so good. Jen and I would push them around in a laundry basket and they thought it was the coolest thing. We'd play kitchen & house & build towers with legos. With all the time in the world.
One of the things I'm most thankful for is the time that I get to spend with them in the next few months. I know them, but I want to get to know them. I'm so thankful for the time I've been given to spend with them & with my parents.
I BibleGatewayed the word "time" today, and do you know how many times the word "time" or "times" is said in the Bible? 888. It's weird that it's that number, I don't know why, but it is. 888 times! Time is important to God: how we see it, how we value it, how we share it, how we use it, and how we use it for him. Time.
Hebrews 12:11
No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. (Be STILL! And know that he is God!)
Time is a gift. Everyone always says that, but how often do we act in response to that reality? Time. Is a gift. From the Creator of the Universe; a limitless, undefinable, never-ending, never-beginning God.
Happy birthday Nat & Mal! The gift of time is one that I hope that you remember to be thankful for every day! Love you.
This week, I've been in think mode. I tried to paint, but my water cup seems to go missing because I fall asleep while I'm in the middle of a stroke. I tried reading, but I don't want to hear other people's stories of suffering just yet. God has fixed my eyes upon Jesus, and I want to soak it up. I don't want to be distracted. So I've tried reading, but I can't get into the stories. I've tried a Rubik's Cube, but I got frustrated. So then I end up going on Facebook. I'm trying not to be on there for more than an hour each day...so far...meh. I'm there maybe 2. All that to say that I need time to think & process what has happened to me. This process of reflection is why I'm writing in my blog so much I think.
This leads me to the art of stalking. I could be a professional Facebook stalker. I spent 30 minutes today just indulging myself in a good ol' trip around the book of Face. You know what I found?
We are not long here.
Babies magically growing into toddlers, toddlers to big kids, big kids to teens, teens to adults...I've felt like an adult for a long time. Ever since my friend Jenni C. from Faith Church said, "You are an adult! I didn't recognize you with that purse on!" when I was like 17. That was the moment that I grew up. But to see so many babies holding their younger siblings that are babies because they themselves are no longer babies. It was so surreal.
My baby sisters turn 16 today. Sixteen. I can remember when they were born, and when my mom & dad brought them home from the hospital. It was a hard season for my parents because they were premature, and my mom spent countless nights crying at the hospital because she wasn't sure Nat was going to live. Jen & I weren't allowed to touch them until we took a shower, and man, that was the fastest shower of my life. The babies were so warm and small. Nat was "my" baby, and Mal was "Jen's" baby for a while. And I just remember holding them. I remember when we moved to Illinois and we had this baby cage blocking in our huge living room - it's where they learned to walk and run. All four of us would all run around in the huge space. Their hair smelled so good. Jen and I would push them around in a laundry basket and they thought it was the coolest thing. We'd play kitchen & house & build towers with legos. With all the time in the world.
One of the things I'm most thankful for is the time that I get to spend with them in the next few months. I know them, but I want to get to know them. I'm so thankful for the time I've been given to spend with them & with my parents.
I BibleGatewayed the word "time" today, and do you know how many times the word "time" or "times" is said in the Bible? 888. It's weird that it's that number, I don't know why, but it is. 888 times! Time is important to God: how we see it, how we value it, how we share it, how we use it, and how we use it for him. Time.
Hebrews 12:11
No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it. (Be STILL! And know that he is God!)
Time is a gift. Everyone always says that, but how often do we act in response to that reality? Time. Is a gift. From the Creator of the Universe; a limitless, undefinable, never-ending, never-beginning God.
Happy birthday Nat & Mal! The gift of time is one that I hope that you remember to be thankful for every day! Love you.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Suffer.
Jesus. Jesus. Holy and exalted one. Jesus. Your name is like honey on my lips. Your Spirit like water to my soul. Your word is a lamp unto my feet; Jesus I love you. I love you.
This was one of the very first songs I learned when I became a Christian at the age of 13. I did not grow up in the church - I always thought that you should try to be as good of a person as you can, and that God rewarded you accordingly. When I was 12, my dad committed his entire life - everything he had, everything he did or thought, all of it to Jesus Christ. I soon followed because I wanted this same change of heart. Little did I realize that my story was going to look so much different than his
At the age of 5, I developed asthma (my theory is that because I lived in California for two years, the smog destroyed my immune system). Little did I know that I would take an inhaler for the rest of my life, just so that I could have life.
At 6, I fractured my right arm while roller blading, and my collar bone by farting around on my jungle gym. Little kid stuff. The usual.
When I was 7, I started developing chronic ear infections in both ears. Doctors recommended tubes be put in my ears, but my parents thought I would grow out of it, or that I would magically heal. I don't know. I was the first pancake, but it wasn't very common back then to have tubes.
When I was 8, we moved from Texas to Illinois, and I developed allergies to pretty much everything around me. Dry, warm air to wet, moderate air; I survived. We had to get rid of my bird before the move because he made me sneeze. He was my buddy. His name was Poppy, in case you want to know. : )
At 9, I had reconstructive ear surgery because I had developed a cholestiatoma in my right ear, causing my hearing to be severely impaired. My ear surgeon is now really famous because she does this procedure all the time now (it's more and more common in kids - my prediction? Allergies to milk & wheat.) I also had a tube put into my left ear so it would drain properly.
Years 10 & 11 were peaceful years, I believe. These were the years where all of this stuff just continued to develop - nothing new arose. My mom might say something different...those were the years where emotional termoil began to develop.
Year 12 I had head lice shaped dandruff that my mom thought was real lice, and treated it as such for 3 months.
Year 13 I developed Impantigo, a skin disease. It was pussy & gross, and I'm still embarassed about it.
Now. This is where I broke down. This is where Jesus enters. Honey on my lips. His Spirit like water to my soul. I saw this glimmering light. This is where I spend and hour crying into my dad's arms because I had committed my life to Jesus! And all of this bad stuff was still happening to me. Both dad's listened, and both dad's cried with me. But both knew my pain.
Year 14 was the year that I fell off of my bike on my way home from work. Doesn't sound like much, but it was a moment of evidence for me because my helmet broke into four pieces. I didn't go to work with a helmet. My dad just happened to drop it off for me right as I was leaving work that night.
Year 15 was the year that I entered a deep, dark depression after my family made a move - one that forever altered my life. God called my family into ministry this year, and he led us to Spring Grove, IL. I knew that he was leading, but I didn't want to go. And I suffered in self-pity.
Year 16 was the year that I started to heal from everything listed above. I started to understand more and more of God's character. I began to heal emotionally from the pain that I had deep inside my heart.
The rest of the years were years of growth, even in the midst of conflict - I started to realize that God does not want us to come to him complete & whole. He wants us to come to him in whatever state we're in: whether we are frustrated, confused, excited, have a lot going for us, depressed, hurt, or suffering.
Suffering.
"Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you." 1 Peter 4:12.
I did something today that I've never done in my life. I skipped church in a building to go to church by myself with my computer. It was so weird. A lot of people that I know do it, but it was very foreign to me, and I am often judgemental of people who are not willing to get invovled in a church community, but instead watch podcasts or videos. That's what church is for - for you & the body that needs you. But this morning, I was thankful for Francis Chan. I've been to (well, what was) his church once before while visiting cousins in Simi Valley. I stumbled upon a sermon on suffering. 1 Peter 4:12. It's kind of intense isn't it? To be quite honest, I don't like verses that talk about fiery ordeals, or strange happenings, but Peter is alllllll for them. Why? So that he can be like Christ. He was so impacted by this man, Jesus, that he saw suffering as gain. Not only that, we should not be suprised when bad things happen to us; we live in an extremely broken world.
Have you ever tasted suffering? In the city that I (used to) live near, Milwaukee, there are 20,000 homeless children at any given time. Twenty thousand. That's more people than lived in my high school community, let alone my town.
My sufferings are and were nothing compared to theirs: I'm not hungry, I'm not cold, I'm not lost or without a home. I was never taunted in school for smelling different because of a lack of access to a shower or bathroom. I was never raped or beaten or hurt because no one was watching out for me. I never lagged behind in school because of my lack of sleep that night. (I did lag behind in school because of drugs that I had to take, but that is completely different.) And you know? Maybe not all homeless people feel that way. Maybe they do find a shelter for the night, or plug into a church. I don't want to perpetuate stereotypes about homeless people because all of them are smart & some are just in a season. But so so many suffer.
Suffering.
I have prayed for the last few years that God would make my heart like his. Do you know the song "Hosanna"? There's a bridge that goes like this:
Heal my heart and make it clean. Open up my eyes to the things unseen. Show me how to love like you have loved me. Break my heart from what breaks yours. Everything I am for your kingdom's cause, as I walk from nothing to eternity.
It's a scary thing to pray, right? It's a HUGE prayer. I always say, be careful what you sing because God listens. When God breaks our hearts, it hurts. When we suffer, it hurts. When God leads, it sometimes hurts. But, it. is. so. worth. it. Why? Because we grow closer to God, and we become more like Jesus. He paid the ultimate price, he suffered as no one else has.
Before this turns into a book, I just want to say one more thing tonight. My church went out today into the community that we live in, and into the city of Milwaukee. It's a big deal for the members of this church, and I am proud of them. I was praying all day that they would see glimpses of God's broken heart, and feel some sort of pain & suffering. It's a really weird thing to pray for someone, but I think that it's a form of love. : ) There may be some of you who are personally suffering right now because it's where God has you in life. Advice that someone gave to me a few months ago? Suffer well. Suffer well, my dear, dear friends.
This was one of the very first songs I learned when I became a Christian at the age of 13. I did not grow up in the church - I always thought that you should try to be as good of a person as you can, and that God rewarded you accordingly. When I was 12, my dad committed his entire life - everything he had, everything he did or thought, all of it to Jesus Christ. I soon followed because I wanted this same change of heart. Little did I realize that my story was going to look so much different than his
At the age of 5, I developed asthma (my theory is that because I lived in California for two years, the smog destroyed my immune system). Little did I know that I would take an inhaler for the rest of my life, just so that I could have life.
At 6, I fractured my right arm while roller blading, and my collar bone by farting around on my jungle gym. Little kid stuff. The usual.
When I was 7, I started developing chronic ear infections in both ears. Doctors recommended tubes be put in my ears, but my parents thought I would grow out of it, or that I would magically heal. I don't know. I was the first pancake, but it wasn't very common back then to have tubes.
When I was 8, we moved from Texas to Illinois, and I developed allergies to pretty much everything around me. Dry, warm air to wet, moderate air; I survived. We had to get rid of my bird before the move because he made me sneeze. He was my buddy. His name was Poppy, in case you want to know. : )
At 9, I had reconstructive ear surgery because I had developed a cholestiatoma in my right ear, causing my hearing to be severely impaired. My ear surgeon is now really famous because she does this procedure all the time now (it's more and more common in kids - my prediction? Allergies to milk & wheat.) I also had a tube put into my left ear so it would drain properly.
Years 10 & 11 were peaceful years, I believe. These were the years where all of this stuff just continued to develop - nothing new arose. My mom might say something different...those were the years where emotional termoil began to develop.
Year 12 I had head lice shaped dandruff that my mom thought was real lice, and treated it as such for 3 months.
Year 13 I developed Impantigo, a skin disease. It was pussy & gross, and I'm still embarassed about it.
Now. This is where I broke down. This is where Jesus enters. Honey on my lips. His Spirit like water to my soul. I saw this glimmering light. This is where I spend and hour crying into my dad's arms because I had committed my life to Jesus! And all of this bad stuff was still happening to me. Both dad's listened, and both dad's cried with me. But both knew my pain.
Year 14 was the year that I fell off of my bike on my way home from work. Doesn't sound like much, but it was a moment of evidence for me because my helmet broke into four pieces. I didn't go to work with a helmet. My dad just happened to drop it off for me right as I was leaving work that night.
Year 15 was the year that I entered a deep, dark depression after my family made a move - one that forever altered my life. God called my family into ministry this year, and he led us to Spring Grove, IL. I knew that he was leading, but I didn't want to go. And I suffered in self-pity.
Year 16 was the year that I started to heal from everything listed above. I started to understand more and more of God's character. I began to heal emotionally from the pain that I had deep inside my heart.
The rest of the years were years of growth, even in the midst of conflict - I started to realize that God does not want us to come to him complete & whole. He wants us to come to him in whatever state we're in: whether we are frustrated, confused, excited, have a lot going for us, depressed, hurt, or suffering.
Suffering.
"Dear friends, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal that has come on you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you." 1 Peter 4:12.
I did something today that I've never done in my life. I skipped church in a building to go to church by myself with my computer. It was so weird. A lot of people that I know do it, but it was very foreign to me, and I am often judgemental of people who are not willing to get invovled in a church community, but instead watch podcasts or videos. That's what church is for - for you & the body that needs you. But this morning, I was thankful for Francis Chan. I've been to (well, what was) his church once before while visiting cousins in Simi Valley. I stumbled upon a sermon on suffering. 1 Peter 4:12. It's kind of intense isn't it? To be quite honest, I don't like verses that talk about fiery ordeals, or strange happenings, but Peter is alllllll for them. Why? So that he can be like Christ. He was so impacted by this man, Jesus, that he saw suffering as gain. Not only that, we should not be suprised when bad things happen to us; we live in an extremely broken world.
Have you ever tasted suffering? In the city that I (used to) live near, Milwaukee, there are 20,000 homeless children at any given time. Twenty thousand. That's more people than lived in my high school community, let alone my town.
My sufferings are and were nothing compared to theirs: I'm not hungry, I'm not cold, I'm not lost or without a home. I was never taunted in school for smelling different because of a lack of access to a shower or bathroom. I was never raped or beaten or hurt because no one was watching out for me. I never lagged behind in school because of my lack of sleep that night. (I did lag behind in school because of drugs that I had to take, but that is completely different.) And you know? Maybe not all homeless people feel that way. Maybe they do find a shelter for the night, or plug into a church. I don't want to perpetuate stereotypes about homeless people because all of them are smart & some are just in a season. But so so many suffer.
Suffering.
I have prayed for the last few years that God would make my heart like his. Do you know the song "Hosanna"? There's a bridge that goes like this:
Heal my heart and make it clean. Open up my eyes to the things unseen. Show me how to love like you have loved me. Break my heart from what breaks yours. Everything I am for your kingdom's cause, as I walk from nothing to eternity.
It's a scary thing to pray, right? It's a HUGE prayer. I always say, be careful what you sing because God listens. When God breaks our hearts, it hurts. When we suffer, it hurts. When God leads, it sometimes hurts. But, it. is. so. worth. it. Why? Because we grow closer to God, and we become more like Jesus. He paid the ultimate price, he suffered as no one else has.
Before this turns into a book, I just want to say one more thing tonight. My church went out today into the community that we live in, and into the city of Milwaukee. It's a big deal for the members of this church, and I am proud of them. I was praying all day that they would see glimpses of God's broken heart, and feel some sort of pain & suffering. It's a really weird thing to pray for someone, but I think that it's a form of love. : ) There may be some of you who are personally suffering right now because it's where God has you in life. Advice that someone gave to me a few months ago? Suffer well. Suffer well, my dear, dear friends.
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Humble.
This morning, my baby sister helped my mom wash my hair. Then she helped me style it. It looks so stinkin' cute...I'm not even going to lie. But you know what? She did not do it the way I wanted.
This sister is on the quieter side, unlike me. I'm always telling people how I'm feeling, what I'm thinking, whether or not I've pooped that day (which I haven't - pray for me. The meds are killing me.) I'm like a walking billboard for TMI, but I don't care. My sister is much more reserved than I am - she watches everything that's going on around her before she states her opinion. It usually gives her an informed one, at that. Anyway, I had asked her if she would blow-dry my hair, and she always plays off like she doesn't want to do things (even if she really does). I asked her to hold up the mirror instead, but I couldn't reach the back very well in my wheelchair, so she took over for me. She started to comb it in the wrong direction, and I kept getting frustrated. I kept wanting to say "M, do it this way, not that way", but I just let go of it. When she was done, it looked so cute!
One of the things I think that God is going to teach me over the next several months is what it means to wait. You'd think I'd have this down by now, right? I have made so many important decisions in my life & I have been given time to listen and pray about what to do next. But nope. Not so great at waiting. ESPECIALLY when I'm driving. Oh man. It's bad. I need to be humbled.
In the mornings, I have to wait for others to get up so I can pee. I have to wait for my poop to be ready to come out. I have to explain how I like my butt to be wiped, and be paitient when the wiper doesn't get it (. The universe does not revolve around me just because I fell and broke some bones. And, the process is incredibly humbling. Life is carrying on for the people around me (which is so exciting!), and I am going to have to wait until my body heals. I am going to have to take a lot of time to learn how to walk again. I am going to have to wait to hear what God says I'm supposed to do next after I'm done healing from this accident, and this freaks me out.
But you know what Psalm 39:7 says? "Lord...my hope is in You."
There is so much hope, right!? One of my closest friends gave me a little wall decoration that says "Hope" on it. It has been such an encouragement to me because I keep beating myself up when I don't do things right. I get so frustrated when I'm not as patient as I could be, or when I immediately think of myself.
Sometimes I want something, but I wait a few extra minutes because I know my mom is still eating her dinner. Eventually, the bottom-wiper got it, and we're in business. I haven't peed my bed yet, and I don't think I will. I mean, think about all of the blessings that come in my day: I can get into a wheelchair, and move around my house; I have the use of my mouth, hands, eyes, nose, ears, arms, and butt; I have nothing hanging over my head (my job wants me back!); I have a warm bed to sleep in & pillows to make it comfy; I have food & clean drinking water; I can breathe well...wow! Most importantly, I serve & love a God that knows my every need, and wants to meet them. He deserves all the credit for these things - he is so good to me. To us.
Being humbled helps us to focus on the things that matter. Falling from a 20-foot wall? Humbling. Very much so. But, from the moment I hit the ground, God has used it to make me even MORE thankful for the ways that he has so richly blessed my life. Please pray for me; that I don't lose sight of these things in the midst of the hard times. How can I pray for you?
This sister is on the quieter side, unlike me. I'm always telling people how I'm feeling, what I'm thinking, whether or not I've pooped that day (which I haven't - pray for me. The meds are killing me.) I'm like a walking billboard for TMI, but I don't care. My sister is much more reserved than I am - she watches everything that's going on around her before she states her opinion. It usually gives her an informed one, at that. Anyway, I had asked her if she would blow-dry my hair, and she always plays off like she doesn't want to do things (even if she really does). I asked her to hold up the mirror instead, but I couldn't reach the back very well in my wheelchair, so she took over for me. She started to comb it in the wrong direction, and I kept getting frustrated. I kept wanting to say "M, do it this way, not that way", but I just let go of it. When she was done, it looked so cute!
One of the things I think that God is going to teach me over the next several months is what it means to wait. You'd think I'd have this down by now, right? I have made so many important decisions in my life & I have been given time to listen and pray about what to do next. But nope. Not so great at waiting. ESPECIALLY when I'm driving. Oh man. It's bad. I need to be humbled.
In the mornings, I have to wait for others to get up so I can pee. I have to wait for my poop to be ready to come out. I have to explain how I like my butt to be wiped, and be paitient when the wiper doesn't get it (. The universe does not revolve around me just because I fell and broke some bones. And, the process is incredibly humbling. Life is carrying on for the people around me (which is so exciting!), and I am going to have to wait until my body heals. I am going to have to take a lot of time to learn how to walk again. I am going to have to wait to hear what God says I'm supposed to do next after I'm done healing from this accident, and this freaks me out.
But you know what Psalm 39:7 says? "Lord...my hope is in You."
There is so much hope, right!? One of my closest friends gave me a little wall decoration that says "Hope" on it. It has been such an encouragement to me because I keep beating myself up when I don't do things right. I get so frustrated when I'm not as patient as I could be, or when I immediately think of myself.
Sometimes I want something, but I wait a few extra minutes because I know my mom is still eating her dinner. Eventually, the bottom-wiper got it, and we're in business. I haven't peed my bed yet, and I don't think I will. I mean, think about all of the blessings that come in my day: I can get into a wheelchair, and move around my house; I have the use of my mouth, hands, eyes, nose, ears, arms, and butt; I have nothing hanging over my head (my job wants me back!); I have a warm bed to sleep in & pillows to make it comfy; I have food & clean drinking water; I can breathe well...wow! Most importantly, I serve & love a God that knows my every need, and wants to meet them. He deserves all the credit for these things - he is so good to me. To us.
Being humbled helps us to focus on the things that matter. Falling from a 20-foot wall? Humbling. Very much so. But, from the moment I hit the ground, God has used it to make me even MORE thankful for the ways that he has so richly blessed my life. Please pray for me; that I don't lose sight of these things in the midst of the hard times. How can I pray for you?
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)