What to do on the mornings when lonliness and fatigue threaten to overwhelm like a tidal wave? How do you pull yourself out from the current that's pull is ripping you away from shore, into unknown waters?
This morning I was faced with the weight of loneliness and weakness overtaking my body. I lay away in bed, paralyzed, unable and unwilling to move. Emotional and physical fatigue plagued my body even after nine hours of uninterrupted sleep. I lay there, feeling helpless and defeated. All I wanted was to go back to sleep, forget about waking up and getting up for today. Could I stay in bed all day?
I could feel the waves of despair overtaking me. I closed my eyes tight and cried out to God.
God, make my life a sacrifice to you. Use me to glorify your name today. Uphold me in my weakness. Comfort me in my loneliness. God, you will sustain me even when I struggle. Use my difficulties to make your name great. May my life be a testimony to your goodness and grace. Do not remove my struggles, be with me through them.
I couldn't ask God to send me someone to keep me company or miraculous healing as I lay listless in that bed. I knew what God was desiring of me. He just wanted me to face the day by his grace. Rising from bed had nothing to do with how I felt or didn't feel. Getting up was about taking a step in faith that this day is worth celebrating because God created it. The beauty of a fresh morning dew has nothing to do with my physical ailments. Birds singing, sun shining, trees swaying - it is all so much more than the struggles of this body.
I face today not on my own strength but on God's; not by my own power, but my Lord's. I am weak, failing, suffering, defeated, dejected, frustrated, worn out and worn thin but he is mightily strong, consistent, powerful, eternal, glorious and gracious. He is carrying me when I am to weak to stand.
This morning I needed his loving arms more than ever. And, of course, he was there. I cried out to him and he answered. He did not change my circumstances, he stepped in and comforted me in the midst of them. He reminded me that he is right here, suffering with me, commiserating with me and wrapping his arms of love and support around me all the while.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Thanks, Ossy
Oswald Chambers has a keen way of convicting me. You would think this would deter my morning reading of his devotional "My Utmost for His Highest" but it has done just the opposite. Instead of shying away from the spotlight on my failings, his blunt look at scripture and unapologetic stating of the truth has left me craving more. Each morning I bound out of bed, ready to soak in whatever it is God has to reveal to me in his Word.
Even though I love the short and to the point devotionals that doesn't always make it comfortable to read them. They hit me between the eyes. In less then a page, Ossy (as I affectionately refer to him), is able to get to the heart of the most daunting Biblical principles. He focuses in on the dark recesses of our hearts and behaviors. He isn't simply concerned with how we appear to the outside world; he is much more interested in obedience, our thought life and childlike faith.
When my heart is housing a less than God honoring emotion I see the flaw in my ways with every word of the devotional. Each sentence chips away at my lame excuses for continuing in human error. The devotional always starts with a scripture that is brief and, at first glance, unassuming. But after reading through the devotional once I open up the scripture's chapter and read it in its entirety. That is when it all hits home. Ossy pulls a simple part of a complex chapter and gets right to the heart of the matter. Scripture can be overwhelming but he reveals a message from God that feels like it was written specially for me.
Some lessons are tough to grasp and truly embrace. Maybe I'm a slow learner or maybe it is part of being a stubborn human being that makes me reluctant to change. Even when I know a change needs to occur, I take my good old time taking the step in faith to release my wrong doing. When I open my Bible in the morning I am once again reminded that there is something in my heart that God wants to remove. Every morning it is as if he is asking, "Are you reading to give it up to me now?"
This morning it was a conviction that has been resting on my heart for days. It centers around one scripture, although I haven't read this particular passage in months God has been pulling it into my minds eye and playing it on repeat: John 12:27.
“Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour."
Jesus didn't ask God to deliver him out of his toughest time in life - and lets face it, what could be harder then facing a slow, painful death on a cross while people below chanted, mocked and harassed? I can't think of anything worse. Yet, he didn't beg God to take him away in a cloud or send someone else to take his place. He accepted that this was God's will.
What Jesus says next is really stunning. He says, "Father, glorify your name!"
He doesn't complain, whine or get downright angry. Instead, he turns to the ultimate purpose in life: to glorify God in everything!
My trial has been nothing compared to the horror Jesus Christ faced and still there are far too many moments when I neglect to give God glory. I fall into the trap of asking God to remove me from my struggle and change my circumstances. But that isn't what God wants me to be asking. When I'm asking God to change my path I'm showing that I don't fully trust in his will and plan for my life. Instead of trusting in his time line, I let my faith falter.
John 12:27-28 have been piercing my heart and chiseling away at my defenses. This short little scripture has been calling me to obedience and a new way of praying. I should be asking God for more faith and wisdom, not an escape route from my problems. In the midst of the storm I can ask God to uphold and sustain me with his mighty hand.
This is transforming my prayer life. I don't need rescued. I need stretched, challenged and grown. If God sweeps in like Superman and takes away all the problems of life I will never be molded and matured into the woman of faith he desires me to be. The trials are his tools and they are put into use for my benefit.
That sounds to me like cause for gratitude and thanksgiving!
Even though I love the short and to the point devotionals that doesn't always make it comfortable to read them. They hit me between the eyes. In less then a page, Ossy (as I affectionately refer to him), is able to get to the heart of the most daunting Biblical principles. He focuses in on the dark recesses of our hearts and behaviors. He isn't simply concerned with how we appear to the outside world; he is much more interested in obedience, our thought life and childlike faith.
When my heart is housing a less than God honoring emotion I see the flaw in my ways with every word of the devotional. Each sentence chips away at my lame excuses for continuing in human error. The devotional always starts with a scripture that is brief and, at first glance, unassuming. But after reading through the devotional once I open up the scripture's chapter and read it in its entirety. That is when it all hits home. Ossy pulls a simple part of a complex chapter and gets right to the heart of the matter. Scripture can be overwhelming but he reveals a message from God that feels like it was written specially for me.
Some lessons are tough to grasp and truly embrace. Maybe I'm a slow learner or maybe it is part of being a stubborn human being that makes me reluctant to change. Even when I know a change needs to occur, I take my good old time taking the step in faith to release my wrong doing. When I open my Bible in the morning I am once again reminded that there is something in my heart that God wants to remove. Every morning it is as if he is asking, "Are you reading to give it up to me now?"
This morning it was a conviction that has been resting on my heart for days. It centers around one scripture, although I haven't read this particular passage in months God has been pulling it into my minds eye and playing it on repeat: John 12:27.
“Now my soul is troubled, and what shall I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it was for this very reason I came to this hour."
Jesus didn't ask God to deliver him out of his toughest time in life - and lets face it, what could be harder then facing a slow, painful death on a cross while people below chanted, mocked and harassed? I can't think of anything worse. Yet, he didn't beg God to take him away in a cloud or send someone else to take his place. He accepted that this was God's will.
What Jesus says next is really stunning. He says, "Father, glorify your name!"
He doesn't complain, whine or get downright angry. Instead, he turns to the ultimate purpose in life: to glorify God in everything!
My trial has been nothing compared to the horror Jesus Christ faced and still there are far too many moments when I neglect to give God glory. I fall into the trap of asking God to remove me from my struggle and change my circumstances. But that isn't what God wants me to be asking. When I'm asking God to change my path I'm showing that I don't fully trust in his will and plan for my life. Instead of trusting in his time line, I let my faith falter.
John 12:27-28 have been piercing my heart and chiseling away at my defenses. This short little scripture has been calling me to obedience and a new way of praying. I should be asking God for more faith and wisdom, not an escape route from my problems. In the midst of the storm I can ask God to uphold and sustain me with his mighty hand.
This is transforming my prayer life. I don't need rescued. I need stretched, challenged and grown. If God sweeps in like Superman and takes away all the problems of life I will never be molded and matured into the woman of faith he desires me to be. The trials are his tools and they are put into use for my benefit.
That sounds to me like cause for gratitude and thanksgiving!
Monday, June 25, 2012
Hugs and Kisses
It has been upwards of eight months since I've been on a date - and I'm not even sure that so called date counted. The last time I had any interaction with a male my age is too far back for me to remember (unless you count ordering at restaurants as prime interaction). Let's just say that my love life has been on hiatus, or more accurately, has become non-existent. As to whether or not it plans on making a comeback is a mystery.
This lack of a male presence in my life didn't bother me for most of the past year. It was over a year ago that my relationship with Dan ended and with it my desire for a significant other. We broke off our engagement on February 13, 2011. Those days are painted in my mind in the most strange fashion. On one hand the memories of the ending of that relationship can be remembered in sharp focus. The day it all fell apart my Mom and I were traveling to visit my brother and his family in Virginia. The dissolving of my soon-to-be marriage happened right there in my Mom's car. I remember my feelings of unbelief and shock and the music that played in the background - Sara Bareilles, to be exact.
And then there is a part of me that looks back and sees nothing but a blur. My future as I knew it was gone and it all happened in the blink of an eye. With a wedding already planned I went into the mode of canceling vendors and reservations while contacting everyone I knew to alert them of the abrupt change in life plans. There was so much to do that it has all become a big blob in my mind's eye. Who did I call first? How did I broach the subject with my family members? I don't remember the specifics. I just remember being overwhelmed.
Even though watching that relationship end wasn't easy, I didn't do much mourning. I cried but only for a brief time. I didn't sink into a depression or struggle to move on with my life. That came easily. For the next ten months I led a full life. First my life consisted of working for Captain Dent then school. My dating life was nonexistent and that was fine by me. I never felt the need to replace one boyfriend with another and I didn't need the attention of a man to give me self worth.
Fast forward to the past six months and my life has consisted of doctors, health ailment Googling and a lot of heartache. But not the heartache of a single love sick puppy. This heartache has been all about being sick, confused and utterly frustrated.
I can honestly say that I've spent almost every day since February 13, 2011 completely comfortable with my relationship status. I say almost because a few days ago I actually had a little twinge of longing for the comforts of romance. At first I thought I must have been dreaming. It has been so long since I've even thought about men, love and all things red hearts and roses, but I couldn't deny that I was thinking about the love life I don't have. And for a few moments I pined for the days of feeling affection from the male species.
The fact that my mind even wandered here for a moment stunned me. I didn't know I had these feelings! I didn't know I missed being "in a relationship" as Facebook would say.
So, I thought on my circumstances - my single hood. I started to realize what it is I'm missing. I don't miss having a boyfriend to text and call every five minutes. I'm relieved to not be glued to a cell phone and the constant communication that seems to characterize the modern day dating game. I don't miss the affirmation a significant other gives. Despite the physical difficulties I've endured, I don't have a poor self image. I'm not thrilled with my current look but I do understand that it is temporary. Some day (soon I hope) I will start to gain weight and my body will be restored. I look forward to that day - and look forward to how I will look. I prefer my body to be more than skin and bones.
What I was dreaming of was something far more basic. I was coveting the physical touch that love birds have the privilege of enjoying. No, not that type of physical touch. You know what I'm talking about: making out on a couch, hands roving and hearts pounding. That is NOT the physical touch I'm referring to. I was coveting something much more basic - and innocent. The simple pleasure of a hug or an arm around the shoulder. I'm a woman of simple pleasures I suppose.
I never realized how important human touch is until I went a year and a half without it. We are crafted to desire human contact. God made us to enjoy and share in physical embrace. This connection doesn't have to be sexual in nature or for adult eyes only. A fulfilling physical connection can be G rated.
I tried to recall the last time I've had real human physical interaction. I could think of only one place where I experience the blessing of human touch - church. When I visit my childhood church I get a month's worth of hugs from the folks that have loved me and prayed for me since I was a toddler. Everyone greets me with a warm embrace. After a church service with my New Life family I feel loved and cared for simply by the number of hugs I receive. There affection is overflowing.
Those Sunday mornings take away any longing for a significant other. That longing is replaced with comfort. My church family's love takes away the pangs of loneliness that creep in after long absences of physical embrace.
The other night I laid on the couch, my body feeling weak and my emotions running thin. My Mom sat across from me, pain filling her eyes as she asked me how she could make me feel better. I thought about that physical touch that I had been missing just earlier that day. No person at that moment could take away my physical ailments but the emotional pain could be eased. So, I asked my Mom to rub my back. As a child she used to rub my back as I fell asleep. It was always comforting and one of my sweetest childhood memories.
I realized after that night that when you are in need, simply ask. I don't need to day dream of physical embrace, I can seek it out. When I need a hug I can find it in the family that loves me. When I need to cry my Mom's shoulder is poised and ready for my meltdown.
To benefit from the blessings of physical contact I don't need a boyfriend - that isn't even what I truly desire. Dates, flowers and love letters aren't what fulfill the need for an embrace. A simple hug will do the trick.
This lack of a male presence in my life didn't bother me for most of the past year. It was over a year ago that my relationship with Dan ended and with it my desire for a significant other. We broke off our engagement on February 13, 2011. Those days are painted in my mind in the most strange fashion. On one hand the memories of the ending of that relationship can be remembered in sharp focus. The day it all fell apart my Mom and I were traveling to visit my brother and his family in Virginia. The dissolving of my soon-to-be marriage happened right there in my Mom's car. I remember my feelings of unbelief and shock and the music that played in the background - Sara Bareilles, to be exact.
And then there is a part of me that looks back and sees nothing but a blur. My future as I knew it was gone and it all happened in the blink of an eye. With a wedding already planned I went into the mode of canceling vendors and reservations while contacting everyone I knew to alert them of the abrupt change in life plans. There was so much to do that it has all become a big blob in my mind's eye. Who did I call first? How did I broach the subject with my family members? I don't remember the specifics. I just remember being overwhelmed.
Even though watching that relationship end wasn't easy, I didn't do much mourning. I cried but only for a brief time. I didn't sink into a depression or struggle to move on with my life. That came easily. For the next ten months I led a full life. First my life consisted of working for Captain Dent then school. My dating life was nonexistent and that was fine by me. I never felt the need to replace one boyfriend with another and I didn't need the attention of a man to give me self worth.
Fast forward to the past six months and my life has consisted of doctors, health ailment Googling and a lot of heartache. But not the heartache of a single love sick puppy. This heartache has been all about being sick, confused and utterly frustrated.
I can honestly say that I've spent almost every day since February 13, 2011 completely comfortable with my relationship status. I say almost because a few days ago I actually had a little twinge of longing for the comforts of romance. At first I thought I must have been dreaming. It has been so long since I've even thought about men, love and all things red hearts and roses, but I couldn't deny that I was thinking about the love life I don't have. And for a few moments I pined for the days of feeling affection from the male species.
The fact that my mind even wandered here for a moment stunned me. I didn't know I had these feelings! I didn't know I missed being "in a relationship" as Facebook would say.
So, I thought on my circumstances - my single hood. I started to realize what it is I'm missing. I don't miss having a boyfriend to text and call every five minutes. I'm relieved to not be glued to a cell phone and the constant communication that seems to characterize the modern day dating game. I don't miss the affirmation a significant other gives. Despite the physical difficulties I've endured, I don't have a poor self image. I'm not thrilled with my current look but I do understand that it is temporary. Some day (soon I hope) I will start to gain weight and my body will be restored. I look forward to that day - and look forward to how I will look. I prefer my body to be more than skin and bones.
What I was dreaming of was something far more basic. I was coveting the physical touch that love birds have the privilege of enjoying. No, not that type of physical touch. You know what I'm talking about: making out on a couch, hands roving and hearts pounding. That is NOT the physical touch I'm referring to. I was coveting something much more basic - and innocent. The simple pleasure of a hug or an arm around the shoulder. I'm a woman of simple pleasures I suppose.
I never realized how important human touch is until I went a year and a half without it. We are crafted to desire human contact. God made us to enjoy and share in physical embrace. This connection doesn't have to be sexual in nature or for adult eyes only. A fulfilling physical connection can be G rated.
I tried to recall the last time I've had real human physical interaction. I could think of only one place where I experience the blessing of human touch - church. When I visit my childhood church I get a month's worth of hugs from the folks that have loved me and prayed for me since I was a toddler. Everyone greets me with a warm embrace. After a church service with my New Life family I feel loved and cared for simply by the number of hugs I receive. There affection is overflowing.
Those Sunday mornings take away any longing for a significant other. That longing is replaced with comfort. My church family's love takes away the pangs of loneliness that creep in after long absences of physical embrace.
The other night I laid on the couch, my body feeling weak and my emotions running thin. My Mom sat across from me, pain filling her eyes as she asked me how she could make me feel better. I thought about that physical touch that I had been missing just earlier that day. No person at that moment could take away my physical ailments but the emotional pain could be eased. So, I asked my Mom to rub my back. As a child she used to rub my back as I fell asleep. It was always comforting and one of my sweetest childhood memories.
I realized after that night that when you are in need, simply ask. I don't need to day dream of physical embrace, I can seek it out. When I need a hug I can find it in the family that loves me. When I need to cry my Mom's shoulder is poised and ready for my meltdown.
To benefit from the blessings of physical contact I don't need a boyfriend - that isn't even what I truly desire. Dates, flowers and love letters aren't what fulfill the need for an embrace. A simple hug will do the trick.
Debby
Tropical storm Debby it taking its good old time beating up the gulf coast of Florida. Deb is moving at a slow crawl of about 2 mph while she unleshes her power on thousands of Floridians and disappointed vacationers. We can now thank Debby for a tornado in Naples, a power outage in Marco Island, rip currents and 60 mph winds. By the time it is all over we might be looking at as much as 10 inches of rain fall and a possibility of rivers flooding over. Check back in tomorrow around 4 pm - until then flood warnings abound.
The news media is flocking to the shores of Tampa and Pensecola, tracking every wind gust and wave heighth, keeping the 24/7 cycle of alerts and pictures coming. This is the stuff The Weather Channel lives for. I think they secretly pray for hurricans.
Of course, many people take these storms very seriously. The roads become sparse, home owners break out the sand bags and water gets purchased in bulk. This is millenium preperation in the middle of June. It reminds me a lot of a snow storm up north in the middle of February. Life comes to a screeching hult.
This morning, sitting in church, I was taken back to Erie in the middle of winter enduring a harsh lake effect blizzard. Just like during a snow storm the church this morning was a ghost town. When I showed up I questioned whether or not the whole thing had been called off. Where rows of cars are usually parked I saw only soggy, wet, car-less grass. In a blizzard the scene would be quite similar if you substitue snow for rain and soggy for icy. The result is the same: low attendance and empty pews. It is so easy to find an excuse to stay in bed on a Sunday morning when the weather outside is threatening. When it is an Erie snow storm we are warned not to drive for fear of slipping and slidding on slick roads. When it is a hurricane season and the raging waters dump rain without ceasing and blow winds that could carry away small children, we are told to stay in the interior rooms of our home for fear of a funnel in the sky. The conditions are ripe for such an occurance - better safe than sorry, right? In mass, we heed the warnings. We keep our TVs tuned to our favorite news station and get in comfy sweat pants for the duration. We resolve to run our errands another day, eat whatever is left in the fridge and forgo the plans we had that would take us away from the protection of home.
And what about church? Well, of course, it goes by the waisteside too. The empty seats to my right and left, and all down the rows of the church stood as a stark picture of how easily we can put God on the back burner. We hit a storm, a trial or anything unpleasant and we forget God. When we hit a bump and we immediately reach for the steering wheel of our life. We reasons that we must take control, that circumstances are such that we have to do something! We want to make things happen, change our circumstances, try to secure our own safety and future.
But is that really the way God wants us to approach the challenges of this life? Are we supposed to feel the compulsion to step in and take over? It is easy to talk the talk when it is sunny out and the roads are dry. Those are the days it is pleasant to take a drive to church in the morning and maybe even chat with a few friends outside after the service. Getting up and out is easy when the birds sing a welcoming tune and the breeze is refreshing. When you arrive at church your hair looks the same way it did when you left the house, as opposed to a drowned rat like it might have this morning, for instance. Unlike during the blizzard, you don't have to leave the house twenty minutes early to make it to the service on time. When the weather is good the going to church is easy. But once that tide turns and the sky turns black, the roads look tretcherous and the temperature plunges, we find reeasons and excuses to stay home.
We can choose to overcome the storm outside and get to the church on time, or we can give into the little voice that says, "It's okay, just skip it." When trials come we have the same choice. In the midst of our challenges we can abandon obedience, prayer and reliance on God, rationalizing our actions because times are tough. Or, we can turn TO God - finding comfort in his house during the storms of our life. There are only two ways to handle the tropical storms that are bound to beat against us while we journey through this life. We can go to God or we can go at it on our own. Going to God might look like a challenge. It may even look physically impossible or daughnting to say the least, but if we take that first step of faith God will see us through. After all, he created the winds, rains and waves of the storm - what makes you think he can't get you through them?
This morning I was a soggy mess by the time I made it through the front doors of the church. How fitting, don't you think? God doesn't require us to show up with everything in place, looking as if we just stepped out of the picture perfect family portrait. God simply requires that we come. That's it. In the storm and in the sun, just come to him. He takes us as we are - squeaky shoes, wet hair and all.
The news media is flocking to the shores of Tampa and Pensecola, tracking every wind gust and wave heighth, keeping the 24/7 cycle of alerts and pictures coming. This is the stuff The Weather Channel lives for. I think they secretly pray for hurricans.
Of course, many people take these storms very seriously. The roads become sparse, home owners break out the sand bags and water gets purchased in bulk. This is millenium preperation in the middle of June. It reminds me a lot of a snow storm up north in the middle of February. Life comes to a screeching hult.
This morning, sitting in church, I was taken back to Erie in the middle of winter enduring a harsh lake effect blizzard. Just like during a snow storm the church this morning was a ghost town. When I showed up I questioned whether or not the whole thing had been called off. Where rows of cars are usually parked I saw only soggy, wet, car-less grass. In a blizzard the scene would be quite similar if you substitue snow for rain and soggy for icy. The result is the same: low attendance and empty pews. It is so easy to find an excuse to stay in bed on a Sunday morning when the weather outside is threatening. When it is an Erie snow storm we are warned not to drive for fear of slipping and slidding on slick roads. When it is a hurricane season and the raging waters dump rain without ceasing and blow winds that could carry away small children, we are told to stay in the interior rooms of our home for fear of a funnel in the sky. The conditions are ripe for such an occurance - better safe than sorry, right? In mass, we heed the warnings. We keep our TVs tuned to our favorite news station and get in comfy sweat pants for the duration. We resolve to run our errands another day, eat whatever is left in the fridge and forgo the plans we had that would take us away from the protection of home.
And what about church? Well, of course, it goes by the waisteside too. The empty seats to my right and left, and all down the rows of the church stood as a stark picture of how easily we can put God on the back burner. We hit a storm, a trial or anything unpleasant and we forget God. When we hit a bump and we immediately reach for the steering wheel of our life. We reasons that we must take control, that circumstances are such that we have to do something! We want to make things happen, change our circumstances, try to secure our own safety and future.
But is that really the way God wants us to approach the challenges of this life? Are we supposed to feel the compulsion to step in and take over? It is easy to talk the talk when it is sunny out and the roads are dry. Those are the days it is pleasant to take a drive to church in the morning and maybe even chat with a few friends outside after the service. Getting up and out is easy when the birds sing a welcoming tune and the breeze is refreshing. When you arrive at church your hair looks the same way it did when you left the house, as opposed to a drowned rat like it might have this morning, for instance. Unlike during the blizzard, you don't have to leave the house twenty minutes early to make it to the service on time. When the weather is good the going to church is easy. But once that tide turns and the sky turns black, the roads look tretcherous and the temperature plunges, we find reeasons and excuses to stay home.
We can choose to overcome the storm outside and get to the church on time, or we can give into the little voice that says, "It's okay, just skip it." When trials come we have the same choice. In the midst of our challenges we can abandon obedience, prayer and reliance on God, rationalizing our actions because times are tough. Or, we can turn TO God - finding comfort in his house during the storms of our life. There are only two ways to handle the tropical storms that are bound to beat against us while we journey through this life. We can go to God or we can go at it on our own. Going to God might look like a challenge. It may even look physically impossible or daughnting to say the least, but if we take that first step of faith God will see us through. After all, he created the winds, rains and waves of the storm - what makes you think he can't get you through them?
This morning I was a soggy mess by the time I made it through the front doors of the church. How fitting, don't you think? God doesn't require us to show up with everything in place, looking as if we just stepped out of the picture perfect family portrait. God simply requires that we come. That's it. In the storm and in the sun, just come to him. He takes us as we are - squeaky shoes, wet hair and all.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Donna Reed Days
You've lost that loving feeling.
Yes, that's right, I'm talking to you America. What happened to your kindness, compassion and upbeat demeanor? Have you forgotten how to smile? Are you so miserable that you must go about life with a downward cast glance and an air of annoyance?
This isn't the America we read about in history books or watch on old black and white TV shows. This isn't the land of joyful dreams and opportunities that it's all cracked up to be. Instead, it has turned into a bunch of stone-faced citizens trudging through life with caffine addiction and an eye watching the clock. People don't seem to be enjoying life. They seem to be resenting it.
All it takes is a trip to the grocery store to see the trouble with society. Everywhere, people are in a hurry and usually aggrivated. By the time you make it to the check out line there is usually someone tapping their foot in frustration from having to wait in line. Few people smile at each other and heaven forbid the employees act as if they've ever seen you before (even if they've been your cashier roughly one hundred times before).
Today I went to get my haircut and, once again, peeved America was in full swing. I went to one of those walk-in salons that abound across this great land. Every 1/4 mile on University Parkway in Sarasota you can stop and get a cut and style in under thirty minutes and well under thirty dollars. I had my pick between "Hair Cuttery", "My Salon", "Great Clips", and a whole host of others that I now forget because cute salon names only stick with me for so long. I decided on Great Clips because I didn't want my hair sawed off - clipped seemed safer. So in I went. As expected I was in and out in under twenty minutes and all for only $16.00 (including tip). Not too shabby. Except for my hairdressers attitude. Let's just say that her clips might be great but her mood was not. It was only 10:30 am but already this women was acting like she had been cutting hair for a twelve hours marathon and needed a break and possibly a martini. Or maybe this is just her normal?
She was annoyed with me because I didn't want to sign up for a mailing list. I'm sick of receiving paper in my mailbox, must you be irritated by that? Then I made the enormous mistake of telling her I wanted to start with just a slight trim on my bangs, and then maybe - just maybe - a bit more taken off. What was I thinking? She fired back with an attitudinal, "Why wouldn't I just cut it all off on the first try?" Umm, excuse me? Have you ever heard of the customer is always right? I refrained from stooping to her low level. Instead I jokingly said, "Well, I always figure you can cut more off but you can't tape more on." Who could argue with that logic? Not my hairdresser. She proceeded to cut my bangs then the rest of my hair. All I wanted was a trim of the dead ends and a little fixing of the layers that had gone arry. She completed the job quickly and didn't do a hack job. I have no complaints about the quality of her work, only the manor in which she did it. With ever snip of the scissors it seemed that her annoyance grew. She included some tell tail sighs that gave away her disdain for either her line of work, customer or life in general - who knows? All I know is that my hair looks healthier and shorter but not too short. And my bangs aren't in my eyes but don't hit in the middle of my forehead. Mission accomplished.
Yet, I am left wondering why Americans are so sour? When did this happen? I long for the days of "The Donna Reed Show" where every character seemed overly enthusiastic about life. They knew all their neighbors and the boy who delievered the milk. In the evenings Dad returned home with a smile and kiss for mom, not a slammed door and frustrated grunt. Kids ran out and played with their friends in the great outdoors and parents had parties filled with laughter and board games. But America has changed and with it has come the downfall of not only moral standards but positive attitudes. Now people don't play board games with a cheerful host making martinis, they do shots in the bar while ESPN blasts in the background. Kids don't run free between their neighbors yards, they play video games equipped with make believe guns. Good luck getting a friendly face at the grocery store, let alone milk delievered to your door in a glass bottle. Times have changed. With the breakdown of the good old days has come the break down of the attitudes that went along with that lifestyle. People are ornary. They aren't cheerful.
There is a sense of down and out, not rising up and accomplishing.
Conversation is filled with complains about the economy and the 24/7 news cycle only exacerbates that issue. It seems that the dark, depressing side of life has taken center stage and the uplifting has faded into the background. I would say that this is a problem only here in Sarasota but I've been around and I've seen that it isn't centralized to one area - it is sweeping the nation. What can we do about such an epidemic? How do we stop the negativity and restore our people to the optimistic bunch of settlers they started out as? Maybe they just need a reminder of how blessed we are!
Consider this - we have the freedom to turn on the TV or internet and go on any channel or website we so choose. We can walk down the street without fear of witnessing military and citizen violence. We can choose to worship God freely and openly - or believe he doesn't exist and live life as such. We can go to school, apply for college, take a risk on starting a business or apply for a job. We have the freedom to choose where we live and how we want our home to look. We can wear what we want and express ourselves through our appearance. If you want a tattoo you can get one. I wouldn't advise it, but it is your freedom to paint your body with ink or leave it all natural.
How about food? You have your pick of pretty much anything you can think up. Food is plentiful here. How about entertainment? Whether or not you are rolling in the money, there is tons to choose from. Our country is full of free entertainment as well as events that cost you an arm, leg, and first born child. The options in this country run the gammet. What do we have to be depressed about? Shouldn't we be smiling because of all the privilages and opportunities we have? Let's stop focusing on the negatives that surround us and focus on the abundance of positives. Sure, this country has its flaws and there is plenty of evil and trouble. But that's inevitable. If we only focus on what is wrong with life we miss what is right.
Here is my message to America: Stop being a negative Nancy! Embrace the positive Patty outlook on life. If you need a reminder of what that looks like I suggest a little one-on-one time with Donna Reed or Leave it to Beaver. Break out the pen and paper and take some notes, these old fashioned characters might teach you a thing or two.
All it takes is a trip to the grocery store to see the trouble with society. Everywhere, people are in a hurry and usually aggrivated. By the time you make it to the check out line there is usually someone tapping their foot in frustration from having to wait in line. Few people smile at each other and heaven forbid the employees act as if they've ever seen you before (even if they've been your cashier roughly one hundred times before).
Today I went to get my haircut and, once again, peeved America was in full swing. I went to one of those walk-in salons that abound across this great land. Every 1/4 mile on University Parkway in Sarasota you can stop and get a cut and style in under thirty minutes and well under thirty dollars. I had my pick between "Hair Cuttery", "My Salon", "Great Clips", and a whole host of others that I now forget because cute salon names only stick with me for so long. I decided on Great Clips because I didn't want my hair sawed off - clipped seemed safer. So in I went. As expected I was in and out in under twenty minutes and all for only $16.00 (including tip). Not too shabby. Except for my hairdressers attitude. Let's just say that her clips might be great but her mood was not. It was only 10:30 am but already this women was acting like she had been cutting hair for a twelve hours marathon and needed a break and possibly a martini. Or maybe this is just her normal?
She was annoyed with me because I didn't want to sign up for a mailing list. I'm sick of receiving paper in my mailbox, must you be irritated by that? Then I made the enormous mistake of telling her I wanted to start with just a slight trim on my bangs, and then maybe - just maybe - a bit more taken off. What was I thinking? She fired back with an attitudinal, "Why wouldn't I just cut it all off on the first try?" Umm, excuse me? Have you ever heard of the customer is always right? I refrained from stooping to her low level. Instead I jokingly said, "Well, I always figure you can cut more off but you can't tape more on." Who could argue with that logic? Not my hairdresser. She proceeded to cut my bangs then the rest of my hair. All I wanted was a trim of the dead ends and a little fixing of the layers that had gone arry. She completed the job quickly and didn't do a hack job. I have no complaints about the quality of her work, only the manor in which she did it. With ever snip of the scissors it seemed that her annoyance grew. She included some tell tail sighs that gave away her disdain for either her line of work, customer or life in general - who knows? All I know is that my hair looks healthier and shorter but not too short. And my bangs aren't in my eyes but don't hit in the middle of my forehead. Mission accomplished.
Yet, I am left wondering why Americans are so sour? When did this happen? I long for the days of "The Donna Reed Show" where every character seemed overly enthusiastic about life. They knew all their neighbors and the boy who delievered the milk. In the evenings Dad returned home with a smile and kiss for mom, not a slammed door and frustrated grunt. Kids ran out and played with their friends in the great outdoors and parents had parties filled with laughter and board games. But America has changed and with it has come the downfall of not only moral standards but positive attitudes. Now people don't play board games with a cheerful host making martinis, they do shots in the bar while ESPN blasts in the background. Kids don't run free between their neighbors yards, they play video games equipped with make believe guns. Good luck getting a friendly face at the grocery store, let alone milk delievered to your door in a glass bottle. Times have changed. With the breakdown of the good old days has come the break down of the attitudes that went along with that lifestyle. People are ornary. They aren't cheerful.
There is a sense of down and out, not rising up and accomplishing.
Conversation is filled with complains about the economy and the 24/7 news cycle only exacerbates that issue. It seems that the dark, depressing side of life has taken center stage and the uplifting has faded into the background. I would say that this is a problem only here in Sarasota but I've been around and I've seen that it isn't centralized to one area - it is sweeping the nation. What can we do about such an epidemic? How do we stop the negativity and restore our people to the optimistic bunch of settlers they started out as? Maybe they just need a reminder of how blessed we are!
Consider this - we have the freedom to turn on the TV or internet and go on any channel or website we so choose. We can walk down the street without fear of witnessing military and citizen violence. We can choose to worship God freely and openly - or believe he doesn't exist and live life as such. We can go to school, apply for college, take a risk on starting a business or apply for a job. We have the freedom to choose where we live and how we want our home to look. We can wear what we want and express ourselves through our appearance. If you want a tattoo you can get one. I wouldn't advise it, but it is your freedom to paint your body with ink or leave it all natural.
How about food? You have your pick of pretty much anything you can think up. Food is plentiful here. How about entertainment? Whether or not you are rolling in the money, there is tons to choose from. Our country is full of free entertainment as well as events that cost you an arm, leg, and first born child. The options in this country run the gammet. What do we have to be depressed about? Shouldn't we be smiling because of all the privilages and opportunities we have? Let's stop focusing on the negatives that surround us and focus on the abundance of positives. Sure, this country has its flaws and there is plenty of evil and trouble. But that's inevitable. If we only focus on what is wrong with life we miss what is right.
Here is my message to America: Stop being a negative Nancy! Embrace the positive Patty outlook on life. If you need a reminder of what that looks like I suggest a little one-on-one time with Donna Reed or Leave it to Beaver. Break out the pen and paper and take some notes, these old fashioned characters might teach you a thing or two.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Tears and Tissues
One non-malignant brain tumor pushing on my pituitary gland...please, and thank you!
It may seem odd to hope and pray for such a thing, but I was doing just that a few days ago. On Monday I went in for an MRI in the hopes of narrowing down (and finding out) what is causing my health dilemma. To be honest, I thought this would provide answers. I was pretty convinced the results would come back with either Multiple Sclerosis or a tumor pushing on my pituitary. I was hoping for the latter. Why would I want such a diagnosis? Easy. They can remove the tumor and my life can come back! That was my reasoning for wanting something to show up on that little image. I was holding out hope in getting answers from that test. And the pitutary gland makes sense - or made sense, I thought.
But, alas, it wasn't meant to be. Instead of a tumor or MS I was given a clean bill of brain health. Yay? I should be happy, but I'm not. I'm frustrated. I've gone years without answers and I'm at the end of my rope. I want to know what is wrong with me - even if the diagnosis is grim and seemingly hopeless. I want to know the giant I am facing. Right now he is nameless and faceless. I am getting tired of fighting a battle against an enemy I don't know or understand. What can I say? I'm worn out. In the past few days I have cried more then I have in months. My emotional breakdowns have reached a frequency that blows through a box of tissues - literally. Songs on the radio have me breaking down in convulsive sobs as I drive. I'm a wreck and I am at a loss as to how to get control of myself again.
Today I sat in the doctors office with no clue what to do next. Part of me wants to give up. Close up shop and go home. How long can I can on this way?
And then the other part of me wants to buck up and push on. I am torn between defeat and heroism. The two sides of me are at war and in that doctors office a battle was waged. Tears flowed. I couldn't control the struggle inside of me. Inside I was breaking apart. I cried for the two years of my life that have been held hostage, at the mercy of this mystery. I cried for the bones potruding from my back, making me look more and more like a skeleton with each passing day. I cried for the frustration that was exploding from every fiber of my being. What is wrong with this body? Why doesn't it absorb all the nutrients I give it through my food? Why is this happening and what will ever make it stop?
I feel like a train, speeding out of control with no brakes. Will it have to crash to bring this whole thing to an end? What will it take?
In that room with dimmed light and soothing Chinese music, I held my head between my knees and let the overwhelming exhaustion pour out of me. My eyes soaked through tissues, making my face a blotchy mess of tears (but not a mess of mascara, thank you creator of waterproof makeup).
As the doctor talked, the flood gates were broken open even further. My breakdown continued throughout the visit and after Dr. Zhao left the room. I couldn't put a cap on it. For the first time during this whole ordeal I let myself crumble with reckless abandon. I didn't attempt to stop it. I couldn't even if I tried. I sobbed. I shook. I fell apart at the seams.
For the past two years I have held it together during the ups and downs that have been riddling my day to day life. In every situation I have tried to be strong and not show how much this has beaten me up emotionally. But today I didn't attempt to hide it any longer. I am on my knees for everyone to see. I don't have any more answers. My stamina that was maintaining a steady pace of paper thin has broken through. Today was the culmination of all of the devestation that I have felt yet avoided for years. I simply couldn't keep those feelings at bay a moment longer.
So, now what? Do I give up?
Never.
For two years I have fought to keep going. Running when it hurt, walking when my legs burned, smiling when inside I was crying and getting up each morning when some days I wanted it all to be over - for good. But God hasn't given up on me. He hasn't let me come home. He still wants me here. As long as he keeps me breathing I will keep fighting. Until the day he brings my soul to Heaven I will continue on in this journey.
I have no idea why my health got off course two and half years ago and I have no idea why it got better last summer only to relapse six months later. There are far more questions than answers. But I do know that God is in control of it all. The ups and downs aren't a surprise to him, he knew they were coming. None of this is a mystery to him and not one moment of it is wasted. He promises that all things will work together for good for those who love him. He is going to work this out for good. He may not do that in a way I expect or could even imagine. He probably has something far more creative in mind - and much better, for that matter.
God doesn't demand that I always remain strong. He knows I am human. He does ask that I trust him and have faith in his plan and timing. He wants me to find rest in his promises even when I'm confused and feel broken. So that is what I am going to do. I am not going to attempt to "figure" out what God is working out in my life. I am going to rest in knowing that he has me on HIS path. This isn't my route - that's for sure. This is God's. I'm on his timetable, not mine. God doesn't want me trying to peek ahead at the upcoming turns. And he definitely doesn't want me asking, "are we there yet?" He wants me to enjoy where I'm at on the journey - even if that place includes tears, tissues and doctor's offices.
James 1:2-3
It may seem odd to hope and pray for such a thing, but I was doing just that a few days ago. On Monday I went in for an MRI in the hopes of narrowing down (and finding out) what is causing my health dilemma. To be honest, I thought this would provide answers. I was pretty convinced the results would come back with either Multiple Sclerosis or a tumor pushing on my pituitary. I was hoping for the latter. Why would I want such a diagnosis? Easy. They can remove the tumor and my life can come back! That was my reasoning for wanting something to show up on that little image. I was holding out hope in getting answers from that test. And the pitutary gland makes sense - or made sense, I thought.
But, alas, it wasn't meant to be. Instead of a tumor or MS I was given a clean bill of brain health. Yay? I should be happy, but I'm not. I'm frustrated. I've gone years without answers and I'm at the end of my rope. I want to know what is wrong with me - even if the diagnosis is grim and seemingly hopeless. I want to know the giant I am facing. Right now he is nameless and faceless. I am getting tired of fighting a battle against an enemy I don't know or understand. What can I say? I'm worn out. In the past few days I have cried more then I have in months. My emotional breakdowns have reached a frequency that blows through a box of tissues - literally. Songs on the radio have me breaking down in convulsive sobs as I drive. I'm a wreck and I am at a loss as to how to get control of myself again.
Today I sat in the doctors office with no clue what to do next. Part of me wants to give up. Close up shop and go home. How long can I can on this way?
And then the other part of me wants to buck up and push on. I am torn between defeat and heroism. The two sides of me are at war and in that doctors office a battle was waged. Tears flowed. I couldn't control the struggle inside of me. Inside I was breaking apart. I cried for the two years of my life that have been held hostage, at the mercy of this mystery. I cried for the bones potruding from my back, making me look more and more like a skeleton with each passing day. I cried for the frustration that was exploding from every fiber of my being. What is wrong with this body? Why doesn't it absorb all the nutrients I give it through my food? Why is this happening and what will ever make it stop?
I feel like a train, speeding out of control with no brakes. Will it have to crash to bring this whole thing to an end? What will it take?
In that room with dimmed light and soothing Chinese music, I held my head between my knees and let the overwhelming exhaustion pour out of me. My eyes soaked through tissues, making my face a blotchy mess of tears (but not a mess of mascara, thank you creator of waterproof makeup).
As the doctor talked, the flood gates were broken open even further. My breakdown continued throughout the visit and after Dr. Zhao left the room. I couldn't put a cap on it. For the first time during this whole ordeal I let myself crumble with reckless abandon. I didn't attempt to stop it. I couldn't even if I tried. I sobbed. I shook. I fell apart at the seams.
For the past two years I have held it together during the ups and downs that have been riddling my day to day life. In every situation I have tried to be strong and not show how much this has beaten me up emotionally. But today I didn't attempt to hide it any longer. I am on my knees for everyone to see. I don't have any more answers. My stamina that was maintaining a steady pace of paper thin has broken through. Today was the culmination of all of the devestation that I have felt yet avoided for years. I simply couldn't keep those feelings at bay a moment longer.
So, now what? Do I give up?
Never.
For two years I have fought to keep going. Running when it hurt, walking when my legs burned, smiling when inside I was crying and getting up each morning when some days I wanted it all to be over - for good. But God hasn't given up on me. He hasn't let me come home. He still wants me here. As long as he keeps me breathing I will keep fighting. Until the day he brings my soul to Heaven I will continue on in this journey.
I have no idea why my health got off course two and half years ago and I have no idea why it got better last summer only to relapse six months later. There are far more questions than answers. But I do know that God is in control of it all. The ups and downs aren't a surprise to him, he knew they were coming. None of this is a mystery to him and not one moment of it is wasted. He promises that all things will work together for good for those who love him. He is going to work this out for good. He may not do that in a way I expect or could even imagine. He probably has something far more creative in mind - and much better, for that matter.
God doesn't demand that I always remain strong. He knows I am human. He does ask that I trust him and have faith in his plan and timing. He wants me to find rest in his promises even when I'm confused and feel broken. So that is what I am going to do. I am not going to attempt to "figure" out what God is working out in my life. I am going to rest in knowing that he has me on HIS path. This isn't my route - that's for sure. This is God's. I'm on his timetable, not mine. God doesn't want me trying to peek ahead at the upcoming turns. And he definitely doesn't want me asking, "are we there yet?" He wants me to enjoy where I'm at on the journey - even if that place includes tears, tissues and doctor's offices.
James 1:2-3
2 Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, 3 because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.
Saturday, June 16, 2012
Amazing Grace
Amazing grace how sweet the sound that saved a wretch like me... I once was lost but now am found, was blind but now I see...
Emotionally there are moments when we come to the end of ourselves. Our own human strength runs out. Our mental stamina wears thing. We need grace. In those moments of pure exhaustion we turn to the one who can sustain us. He saves us. And, oh how precious does that grace appear those hours when we first believe. When we have run out our own will to go on we find a failing so beautiful, so divine that it is awe inspiring. It is lyrical and melodic. It's tune becomes a lullaby through life. Once we first experience the hope and security of His amazing grace, we cling to it. It is our assurance and our security.
One day there will be a day when we come to the end of our physical selves. Our bodies will wear out, our breathing will slip away and our hearts will cease to beat. We will experience another type of weakness and, just like the moment when we ran emotionally dry, we will feel helplessness as the our body gives out.
But in that moment, something beautiful happens. We are shown something so miraculous that it makes the suffering and pains of death insignificant. We see glory. When all physical capacities are gone and our earthly living is complete, we are shown the most remarkable vision. All of the weakness felt on earth, all the suffering endured comes into focus. Our blindness is restored to full sight. We can see the picture God had been painting all the years of our lives. Every up and down, valley and mountain comes into focus. Every turn along our journey makes perfect sense. And then, the most stunning picture of all. We see our Heavenly Father - the one who we yearned for, longed to meet and cried out to. We finally meet Him face to face. And every moment on earth is a sweet memory. We see the meaning of our lives. We reap the promises of God. We see the many mansions, the streets of gold and the angles singing praises. Everything that seemed a mystery on earth is revealed.
When you are assured of your place in Heaven, death doesn't seem so bad. In fact, death is cause for celebration. Someone who once had to endure the pressures and complications of this life now gets to enjoy eternity in Heaven... perfect, endless, glorious Heaven. What could be better?
Last night my Grandma passed away. Some people shed tears at the passing of a loved one but I must admit I feel nothing but happiness. Her last few years on this earth were so labored. Her physical capabilities were reduced to breathing. She couldn't feed herself or even sit up on her own. For a woman who enjoyed church responsibilities and a teaching job as an adult I'm sure watching herself deteriorate in this way was devastating.
When my Grandma was young many women didn't go to college. But she did. She graduated first in her high school class - a small number of students but still quite an accomplishment. She went on to college and became an English teacher. She also played piano, her true love in life if you ask me. She had a passion for music. As an adult she played piano for church until Parkinson's disease stripped her of her ability to control her fingers. What the disease took from her fingers couldn't be taken from her spirit. She then joined the choir. As time went by her body wouldn't allow her to do that either. But when you love something as deeply as she did - lyrics and a melody - you can't take that away from someone. She stood in the front row of the congregation and whistled along. She was an incredible whistler - no doubt the best I've ever heard.
At the end of her life she was in a nursing home, confined to her bed by night and a wheelchair by day. But you know what? She still whistled. My Dad would play piano and she would whistle along while using her hands to conduct his tempo and rhythm. At times in the music she would feel a crescendo coming on and would direct him to up his volume and intensity. At other moments she would "Shh" his playing that was too loud for the melody and lyrics of the given tune. She loved her music and knew how she liked it performed. Up until the very end she kept that love alive.
In the last few months even her conducting had grown faint. She barely whistled, if at all. She was getting ready to go home.
Then, last night, with Amazing Grace playing in the background and her son and daughter holding her hands, she went home to glory. Her physical body came to the end of itself but her soul went to its true home, the place it had yearned for since that very first time she found God's amazing grace.
Her family left here on this earth can rejoice for her. She is home! She is in the presense of the most holy God and she is enjoying the most spectacular music, a melody that we can't even comprehend. I can see it now, and do you know what I see? Grandma, sitting behind a piano, whistlilng while she plays.
When we've been there ten thousand years, bright shinging as the sun. We've no less days to sing God's praise then when we've first begun...
Play in peace, Grandma.
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