The Return (or Rerun - Not Sure Which)

Maybe I'll come back to why God is funny in posts that are coming up. Briefly, though, God is funny for the way that He orchestrates things when we need them - and this particular time He did so in a way that He knew would speak to me - through books (one in particular) with a funny little piece of continuity woven into it. But more on that later, maybe...

So I haven't written in over 45 days (so my husband tells me). I think I've departed from this practice so suddenly and defintively because things got hard - again. I don't know why I believe that life in any way for any of us (followers of Christ or not) will be smooth, ever, but I do hold on to that hope sometimes, and I think I loose touch with myself, with my God, with my community, with the kingdom when life does not level out. Like the pearl of great price, I begin to seek that leveling with all that I am - at the cost of many things. Then sometimes, like now, I'm reminded of the friends I met in Uganda who have probably never had what I would call an easy day, and who smile and laugh and rejoice (in the soul-deep sense of the word) anyway or of the many people in my own little world who struggle deeply in various ways and who do so with joy, and I'm humbled.

So if anyone still reads this or ever does read this again, you'll have to pardon the ramblings and disjointedness of this particular post. When I haven't written in a while, the words kind of spill out like the stuff behind a closet door that has been shoved to a close with great effort because the stuff is too much for the contained space. I usually spend the next several days trying to organize what has burst forth. A lot, a lot has happen in this over-45-day span, and my mind is often scattered in general.

I think over the last several weeks, I've been in an Israel (the person, not the nation)kind of a head-space. (For anyone who is grounded in biblical scholarship who might read this, pardon the following gross oversimplification.) I've been wrestling, fighting for myself, demanding God's blessing. Today I feel very much like God himself, with the simplest, lightest touch, has effectively knocked my hip out of its socket, and unlike Jacob, I lay spent on the grass.

Since I wrote last, we've moved from Angel Fire to Los Alamos - a true blessing. Tony has wanted to work with his dad and this church for a long, long time, and God has found this to be good in His own time, and we are blessed because of this. We've had a harder time saying goodbye here than anywhere, I think (but maybe it just feels harder because it is still so raw). I miss my good friends, I miss my home, I miss my parents; but I know, because of the way in which this happened, that this is where we are supposed to be right now and what we are supposed to be doing. Already I feel like a part of Tony's ministry in ways that I haven't been a part in years; this is and feels really, really good. What a blessing...

What I think has weighed on me the most in all of this and what has taken me from writing is my concern over our finances. When it comes down to daily living and paying the bills, I cannot seem to let God handle that. I am practical about our finances, most often at the cost of being faithful with our finances. I want to see the math and know that it's all going to add up (and, in keeping with God being funny, it has hardly ever really worked like that in my adult life), usually, it's very apparent that we are not the ones providing for ourselves. I got a job back in March in Los Alamos (our first concrete nudge in that direction) teaching at UNM- LA part-time. Let me reiterate: I got a job in Los Alamos, where we've wanted to be for a while, in my field, with people I really, really like, doing what I really, really love, after one quick email to the department director. In the economy in the United States right now, this is an amazing gift; even still, as the prospect of paying two mortgages loomed, I just began to grow concerned that it wouldn't be enough. I've been hunting for full-time work daily now for a long time. I've had a few interviews and no offers; none. I've sent out over 60 resumes. I've even applied for office management positions just to hold us until we sell our house. The local high school offered a good possibility, but I could not accept and still do my job for UNM. Wrestling, wrestling, wrestling. Demanding the blessing. I struggle with wondering why I went to school, why I struggled so hard to get this degree that hasn't helped me find employment full-time. My prayer time has been characterized by prayer for others with a delicate avoidance of this struggle. Sometimes I don't want to pray about struggles like these because I really, really don't want to hear what God has to say to me which is ridiculous, because I have seen and tasted His goodness. I know in my marrow that He is good. And yet, I just want it to be done in the way that I envision. More wrestling, a broken hip, submission (in this case), and a new name ("Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel"). As I lay in my outcome different than Jacob after the all-night wrestling, I hear God whispering. "What if? What if my plan is better? What if I want you to be and do more than just survive by paying the bills? What if? What if..."

God Is Funny

I'm really tired right now (I didn't realize it was so late). So this may have to be a two part-er. First (having nothing to do with what I'm intending to write about), I got a sweet gift today. One of the drugs that I've been on throughout this process advances the transition into myelofibrosis, which is what eventually takes the life of many patients with the disease that I have. Several people on the listserve that I'm on for this illness have asked me why I am on this drug at my age. My answer is that I do not tolerate the easier, cheaper drug. I tried it, and eventually, it started to kill off my white blood cells, too. Sometimes the drugs cannot differentiate between the different types of cells they are targeting, so I had to move off of this and onto another whose short-term benefits exceed long term results (it's a great drug for older patients, though). My doctor at Mayo really wanted me to be on a drug that costs about $1200 per month; I have no perscription coverage at all (though I am grateful that I have insurance at all). This drug that many really do well with is simply out of reach for most.

So a non-governmental patient assistance program with which one of my doctors' offices coordinates called me today to tell me that I had been approved to recieve the drug for free. I am humbled, I am awed, I am thankful to God for this piece of new news. Though I'm in a place today that in which the preservation of my life isn't necessarily the highest priority (certainly not higher than obedience), this drug has the potential of working differently with my body and of making the day-to-day a little less of a physical struggle. I hope I can use the better days to bring honor to Him in new and beautiful ways.

I'll have to continue with why God is funny tomorrow.

Prayer

Dear Holy and Perfect God,

I am thankful today for so much. I am thankful for the amazing man that my husband is. Thank you that he cares for me, that he challenges me, and that he is a devoted and loving father. I thank you for my family, both that which I was born into and that which I married into. Thank you that they are supportive, even when I am and have been undeserving of their support. Help me extend the grace and acceptance I have experienced in this context to others. Thank you for the community you've put around us to help us walk when we are weary:for this wonderful "extended family" you've given us. It gives me such peace to know that whatever happens, my family will be okay because of this community who also seeks you first.

Thank you for all of my children. Thank you for designing them so specifically and for letting us see the amazing people they already are inside. Thank you for blessing us and teaching us about who you are through them. They make my spirit smile, and I'm so glad that you sent them to me.

Thank you for the challenges in our lives. Lord, I believe that you are the changer of hearts, the healer of all illness, the sovereign God over all life, and I believe that you could prevent hard things from ever happening to your people. Though you don't always do this, I believe that you are good and that your promises are true, and for that, I'm willing to endure whatever you would have me endure. Thank you for using the hard moments to bring us closer to you; thank you for all of the good things that remain, regardless. Thank you for your sacrifice; help us live in that every day.

Amen.

The Scene

I love mornings like this one. I woke up in prayer, beckoned by the Lord to an early walk. This is day two of increased meds, and I walked slowly down to the lake stopping occasionally to muscle through surges of nausea. I heard His familiar voice, "Just keep putting one foot in front of the other" - words that characterize my life of late. Knowing that I was on my way to one of my favorite places to sit and pray, though, made it worth the walk.

The place I like to sit is at the south end of the lake; from there, the pine trees frame Mt. Wheeler perfectly. The lake was glass this morning, and it was so, so quiet. I'm not sure what heaven will be like, but I'm pretty sure, that for me, it will include that spot. In a world with four children, solitude is a rarity - quietness, a gift (not that their words, laughter, and even crying that fill our house daily are not; it's just that the ratio of child-sounds to quiet make the latter more precious in this particular season of life). I sat down to pray over various details of this moment in this beautiful place God's given us to be -for increases in compassion, for our future as a family, for precious friends, for health. Soon, though, I found myself in a fairly familiar thought-rut. Though I believe that God has given me obsessive-compulsive tendencies for great and glorious reasons, they present certain challenges in my life that creep up when my vigilance is interrupted. I soon realized I wasn't even praying anymore; instead I was thinking about my frustration with living in body that refuses to keep up with my spirit and the powerlessness that involves. Then I was thinking about how powerless I feel when I reach out to my hurting daughter and have her absolutely refuse to communicate. Which led me to think about how angry I was at her mother for not giving her what she needed when she was small and for continuing to open her wounds even today, and how wearying it is to for me to have to bear this misdirected anger and hurt. Then I was thinking about other past wounds, and how this or that person had said something hurtful and never apologized, etc. Negativity was snowballing into an avalanche of all that is wrong in my world, and I silenced the Voice who had called me there in the first place. Yuck.

I've had a few friends in my life who've been in my world when they've tried to quit smoking. They've echoed each other in various forms, iterating the need to have something to do with their hands. The habit of smoking creates this very strange void upon cessation. Different friends of mine have dealt with this in different ways. One took up knitting and had more scarves and hats by the time she really quit than anyone I've met before or since. Another always had a pencil or one of those fake cigarettes and gum to keep her mouth busy. Another couldn't find a replacement and, as far as I know, has never quit. In psychological circles, it is commonly held that breaking a habit without replacing it with a better, more healthy one is a very rare occurance. Emotional habits are no different, they just aren't as visible. I'm an addict, in many ways, to negative thinking, even though I know it can spread like wildfire and destroy a moment, a day, a life. Part of this comes from what I believe is a God-given passion for caring for orphans of the living. Tony and I, because of this passion, see really sad circumstances a lot. Foster care and the foster care system are also my research interests, so I read many books about the system and hear stories often about abuse and injustice. Part of this comes from being sick, and because I feel that in my physical body every day, it often becomes my focus.

In the midst of my negativity avalanche today came the familiar Voice again; "STOP". And I remembered where I am in the Bible right now and how the Israelites complained about everything throughout their journey to and through the promised land and how frustrating and saddening that was to God. I remembered how one of the condemnations God gives Israel in Hosea is that they took all the good things God gave them - the fruit, the harvest, the rich land - and they gave them to other gods. His gifts!! I thought about how important it is to me that my children are grateful for what their dad and I work hard to provide for them, and how frustrating it is when they are not appreciative of what they are given. I stopped and thanked God for all He has given us.

In recent years, cognitive scientists have discovered some really amazing realities about gratitude. Psychiatrist Michael Lara (2011) states that the simple act of thinking about things for which one is grateful activates the left frontal lobe (the whole frontal lobe is the part of the brain responsible for mature decision-making and predicting consequences), releasing a flood of neurotranmitters such as dopamine, seratonin, and other natural opiates which reduce and counteract stress hormones such as norepinephrine and cortisol produced by the limbic system (the primitive, survivalist part of the brain). Lara posits that one can actually combat depression by re-training the brain through dwelling in gratitude (though the actual strategy is, of course, more complex than this) which is beautiful evidence for what Paul advised the Philippian church over 2,000 years ago: "Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things" (Philippians 4:8) which only echoes what Jesus taught, "So do not worry, saying, 'What shall we eat?' or "What shall we drink?' or 'What shall we wear?' For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well" (Matthew 6:31). God doesn't just give us "don'ts" but He gives us alternatives: new, healthy, whole habits and practices to replace our habits and practices as we become more and more like Him.

So for tonight, I will drift to sleep dwelling in what is true, pure, and lovely, and when worry and negative thinking threaten to bury me, I will choose to seek (a very active verb) His kingdom because none of the rest is my concern anyway.

Back to the Habit

I just looked at the last day I posted - Tuesday! It's been a week; how does that happen, and where did my week go? I thought I just missed a few days. Ugh. So here we go again with the habit. I've heard that it takes 28 days to create a habit and only two days to break it, so the 28 is what I'm going for for now.

I've been teaching VBS this week, and while teaching little ones music is not high on my priority list (if I'm honest, that's only because I have had a bit of an ugly attitude)nor is it in my skill set really, I have been SOOO blessed in doing this this week. It has been a really, really long time since I've worked with kids under 14, and I've had a ball seeing the different stages in their God-given development. My first group to come through every day is the 4th - 6th grade group. There are a few in this group who haven't developed the "every-one-is-looking-at-me-so-I-have-to-play-it-cool" disposition, but most of them have, and they're quieter, less willing to put themselves out there, more likely to comment, "Do we have to?" or "This is boring." Even in this stage, this age group makes me smile. They're quirky, and underneath the self-as-center-of-all-things cover, I think they still want to do the little kid fun stuff, because once in a while, when they get lost in the moment, they forget their constant negotiation of who they are, and they smile and have fun. I've been reminded this week that if I don't give their identity negotiating a second's worth of attention, they loose themselves in the moment much more quickly, and that is really fun to see.

My second group is the first through third grade group. I love these guys, too. They haven't yet moved into a full self-awareness. They're sharp (I'd forgotten how quickly they learn), and fun seems to come easy to them. I wish I could have just a small dose of their ability to have so much fun just being silly. It's sweet and life-giving to be around.

My third group is an adorable little group of Kindergartners and pre-schoolers. It is from these kiddos I have learned the most about joy this week. A friend of mine made the comment once that she found such a sweet, joyful simplicity in working with Alzheimers patients in the lock-down unit of a nursing home because, in her words, "all they have is today." For them, she said, there's no worry about planning for tomorrow; there's no concern for what they look like to others. Whatever memory in whatever time they happen to be in, mentally, is where they are, and that's it. She said she used to have such a sweet time just painting their nails and being a ethereal visitor to a phantom memory. This is kind of the same joy I've gotten from these kiddos this week. Of course human ugliness is still present as any Pre-K / Kindergarten teacher can attest, but there's also this beautiful containedness to their experience. Whatever is happening at that moment is where they are, fully and freely. It's like tomorrow is an idea that will come when it comes, but it's too far away for them to think about now. I think joy comes easier in this way, and in this way, I want to become more like a child because really, if we think about our worry, stress, and even our detailed plans for the future, it has the quality of an Alzheimers paitent's phantom memory which feels very real at the time, but which falls to dust as soon as we try to hold it. How much more free it is to enjoy our moments, to be fully present in them, blessing each other as we share them together?

Goodnight.

To Tuesdays

Tuesday's appointment was hard. I've been on an increased dose of chemo for a little over a week now. The platelets are supposed to be moving down. They aren't; they're moving up. My doctor is stumped and wants to move the dose up one more time. At this dosage, I'm likely to loose my hair. My body is tired now, and with an increased dose, I'm likely to pass into exhaustion. I've said to a few friends this week that I'm not really scared any more - God has my life and the world post-Zandree all under way better control than I could fathom - I'm just a little sad that it's not different. I wish I could learn the lesson, bring glory to the Lord, and then receive the miraculous turn around I've been waiting for. Sometimes, though, that's just not how it works. And God is there then, too.

I think many of us want the miracle story when we're hit with hard circumstances. Several people around us have been there, too. In our short time in our community, we've known three different families who have had very premature children. I wonder if they were looking for the miracle as they walked the hospital halls night after night, month after month. I wonder if they questioned God's presence in their lives as they let their babies undergo surgeries instead of giving them tummy time and nursing them to sleep in their rocking chairs at home. We've had friends undergo prolonged, intense struggles as they've tried to build a business and become beautiful, Godly influences in some really dark places in our community only to endure trial after trial after trial with no sign of impending relief. We've had friends loose loved ones, friends loose spouses through divorce, friends loose employment. I wonder if they, like us, have asked God, "What is the point, and when is the miracle coming?" We are not the only ones walking through difficulty, and God, I believe, is present with us all.

I've been reading through the Old Testament over the past few months. I know that some don't particularly enjoy the Old Testament in their study of God's Word, but I really, really love it. I love the language and the development of the characters and stories. I love the meta-narrative of God pursuing His people across time with a love so deep He'd look past the grief of His heart to find a way to redeem them even while they spit in His face. I'm in Ezekiel right now, and my goodness, what the prophets have to teach us about suffering! Hosea, a prophet grieved by Israel's sin and who loved his God deeply, was told to take a prostitute as a wife not once, but twice, the second time buying her back from her lover she left her faithful Hosea to be with. Jeremiah was starved, beaten, imprisoned, summoned to prophesy for the king and then beaten and starved for doing that. Ezekiel was given God's word, shown our God's incredible glory, and told ahead of time that his own stubborn people were not going to listen to a word he said, ever.

I'm not all the way through Ezekiel this time yet, but I wonder if he ever wondered, "What is the point, and when is the miracle coming?" He hurt for Israel to see what they were doing and to repent. But Ezekiel doesn't get to see his people repent. In fact, he's humiliated and scoffed at by his community. Jeremiah, though he got to stay in the promised land during exile, never lived to see the remnant return to the inheritance God had given them as a precious gift. Hosea never had a faithful wife who turned from her prostitution and loved Him. Even in a culture where the collective consciousness said that property, power,and physical, kingdom-wide success was not just an indication but absolutely equivalent with the very blessing of God, most of his most devoted servants suffered terribly at the hands of their own people, ending (or maybe just beginning, really) with Jesus. God didn't spare them, and he didn't abandon them. I know in my heart of hearts that God's design is at least sometimes bigger than our happiness, our physical comfort, our personal relationships, and even our very lives. When I'm not stuck in my head and when I'm bowed before my God in the deepest, most sincere worship, I am beyond willing to let Him do with my life whatever He will. And it will be my greatest joy to honor Him with my suffering if that is something with which I could honor Him more than with my peace and wellness.

Tony held Secret Church (a 6-hour Bible study) at our house last week (which I love, because I get to go). We were going through Romans, and we were talking about the verse that reads, "God works out all things for the good of those who love Him." We talked a little bit about how this verse is used to communicate to hurting people that they will see some benefit come out of the suffering they're enduring. Tony made a good point (albeit a hyperbolized one) when he said that if anyone uses this in this way when he's hurting, he's going to punch that person in the face. This verse is hard to hear in our pain. Our pastor, who is a beautifully and carefully studied man concerning God's Word, made the point earlier in the conversation that "good" can only be defined by Christ and that becoming more like Him and helping others do the same is the only good there really is as He is the source and the habitation of all goodness and every good thing. I believe that this is truth. This verse then, in light of that definition, means that God works out all things for the becoming-more-like-Him of those who love Him. All things, all things God uses in us to produce Christ-likeness and to render us closer to Him. And THAT is goodness. Carol Kent, in When I Lay My Isaac Down, references a snippet from a Max Lucado book called Grace for the Moment in which he includes an inscription written by a prisoner that was preserved on the walls of of a concentration camp for Jews in WWI. It reads:
"I believe in the sun, even though it doesn't shine,
I believe in love, even when it isn't shown.
I believe in God, even when he doesn't speak."
It is doubtful that this prisoner ever got miracle or understood the point, but I know that God is good, and I know that God used this person's circumstances for "good" as it has been defined above, even if those circumstances never, ever changed for the better. And so in our suffering, in our pain, in our difficult Tuesdays, for the Jeremiahs, Hoseas, and Ezekiels of our time, and even for our friends who've walked in places where they've been brought to ask, "What's the point, and when is the miracle coming?" God works, speaks, and moves us toward the pure, unadulterated joy of the deepest love on earth, yes even when the miracle never comes.

Praise the Lord. Amen.

Sleep Beats the Habit

It's been a very long day with hard news from the doctor. Sleep trumps habit tonight. Goodnight all!