Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #33 The Power of Words

 Power of Words

A simple phrase

spoken with a smile.

Said with kindness, 

words slam into my chest.

My balance is lost,

Rocked and off kilter.

Spoken shockwaves, 

I tilt and sway.

Sickness rises from the deep,

Said once, now a mantra.

Words swirl and surround,

running and racing in my mind.

Dizzy and disoriented,

I feel the shift.

I fight to keep stable.

Just stay still!

I pull at my heart,

tug it back into place.

Find my equilibrium again. 

I whisper truth to my soul.

It was just a simple phrase...

It was such a sweet smile...

Written November 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #26 TV-The Sad, Sad Truth

 

TV- The Sad, Sad Truth

They feel like family, these pretend friends. 

Lights, sounds and transmissions flicker on the screen. 

I come home from school and I can't wait!  

Backpack dropped.  Coat and shoes chucked off.  

Quick!  Grab a snack... 

Drop down into the well-worn couch. 

We eat together, and I tell you about my day.

I watch you laugh and it brings me comfort.

Each day, I visit my mother and my father living in a box.

After school cookies and milk with Julie, our cruise director.

Ice cream with a Silver Spoon and Benson. 

Learning the Facts of Life with Jack, Janet and Chrissy.  

Alone in this world, I watch you cry and fight.

I cringe while you escape fire and disease and I am with you.

I join you to laugh.  I join you and I cry.

Your safety is my joy.  Your victory my win.

My young heart feels connection.  

Someone else had a hard day!

We commiserate together over chips and soda. 

You say the words of love I long to hear. 

Signals traverse through the air, they warm.

Like a much needed hug, the wrap around me.

Transmissions touch the gaping hole of loneliness.

You are there every day, my friends!  

Your presence just a click away.

Hours and hours and hours together.  

Your fun and antics tell me I am not alone.

These are the 80s realities.

Raise your glass... Cheers! 

Let's drink to television!

What in the world have we done!?

So, are the Days of Our Lives.  

Written September 2020

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #22 Depth of Sadness

Depth of Sadness

Down in the bedrock, 

far below the surface.

Streams of groundwater run and churn.

Filling the pores,

seeps into the cracks of my soul, 

The sadness flows deep and wide.  

Creeping and edging through.

Pressure pushes and pulls, 

This grief.  This pain.

Mostly quiet, even unknown.

Almost always unnoticed and unseen,

Rarely will it rise.

Today it threatens a flood.

Noah's springs of the deep roar and rumble.

The agony has reached it's tipping point.

Will it finally be heard?

Spill up and over.

Pour out and destroy.

Will the aquifer reach it's limit?

Will the confined boundaries be overcome?

Eruption of furry and flood.

Will the sadness win and have it's say?

Destroying all that is wicked on the surface.

Washing, finally.  Bringing justice!

Will the façade be toppled?

The earth be cleansed.

The floodgates finally opened wide.

O! These underground streams!  

The sorrow coursing through the foundations.

Living, growing and building all these years.

I hear you.  I see you.  I honour and listen. 

I welcome your voice.  

Pour forth, rise up, and make me whole.

Written September 2020

"Let your tears flow like a river...Pour out your heart like water in the presence of the Lord"

 (Lamentations 2:18,19)

"It is better to enter a house of mourning than a house of feasting, since death is the end of every man, and the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter, for a sad countenance is good for the heart. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of pleasure."  

(Ecclesiastes 7:3)

Aquifer 

 

Sabbatical Reflections: Words on a Page #16 Pain

Pain

Pain that shifts and rambles.

One day it is here. 

Tomorrow it is there.

Last week it was here and there.

Always present. 

Often niggles. 

Occasionally scary.

Mostly annoying.  

Sometimes sharp.

Definitely cumbersome.

Usually dull.

Never welcome.  

It seems to take a walk around me. 

A long wandering journey.

Certainly, it has it's favourite spots to 

sit a spell.  Stretch out!  Hunker down. 

Without announcement or fanfare

It begins to stroll again. 

Pain making its ways to new vistas, 

new horizons.

Meandering, searching, looking, 

I wonder, 

for new favourite spots.

To rest and sit for a while.  

Written July 2020

 

Strength and Wisdom from Sorrow

My daughter wrote a stunning piece of spoken word.  I would love for you to click on the link and listen to her reading it out...   The truth in these words blessed my heart in a profound way. I share it with you with deep joy.

Click here

Or...https://drive.google.com/file/d/16g6vYacHhssWLukJuJOcM3IUrg-TVUs8/view

The text of the spoken word: 

When you look into a woman’s face
What do you see?
Sorrow.
It’s always there - 
it’s what gives the waves to the ocean in her eyes,
The fire in the pit of her stomach,
The lines around her mouth,
and depth to her words. 

Have you ever sat at the feet of a truly fierce woman:
Wearing truths she taught you to know;
just waiting, for the next pearl of wisdom to fall from her lips.
They splash onto those around her like tears. 

Tears shed for the ruined and loved boy,
tears for the cherished and lost child,
tears for the battered and beautiful friend, 
And hot wet burning tears for her own failures in grace.

These precious pearls were made through 
the scratching of the sand of the world
That made wounds and scars on her heart.
That left their cutting mark, but were not felt in vain. 

The laughter in the eyes of a child should be cherished. 
Always.
for, the liquid sunlight dripping from their eyes will vanish in time.

But the laughter of a woman is stronger still. 
For she has seen the inside of the darkness
and chosen to turn her eyes back to the sun; 
Even when she does not believe in its existence.

The flower might close at night, but soon it will be morning
And with a choice of perseverance 
She will again lift her eyes. 

Sorrow is the hinge-pin, the centrepiece, of a woman's life.
It ties her to those around her with a triple woven tread. 
Its end is what grounds her, like an anchor in a storm.
She has seen this before. 
She knows: in time, a gleam will arise out of the bloodied mess of broken souls.

She stands
It’s a choice
She knows
And with love, She chooses to throw her heart back into the fray
In order to touch the child, seeing darkness for the first time,
The man waylaid and pushed to destruction,
The women abused night after night, 
The running family with bombs sounding still in their ears, 
And the quiet grief of a boy who has nothing left to give.

This is why we come to their feet.
This is why we trust them with our love.
Their eyes hold a well of sorrow and a smile of peace.
We know they can hold more, 
and still will choose to look up from the dark to the sun.

Don’t forget their sorrow,
don’t rush on into life without their hands
They have lived your future pain.

Young women, those just tasting the start of truth,
Do not be afraid.
Every warrior has her story.
Yes, you too will have yours.
But a battered heart is not a broken life.
It is only a woman more ready to love
Well,
Wisely, and

Always. 

Link also here: https://drive.google.com/file/d/16g6vYacHhssWLukJuJOcM3IUrg-TVUs8/view
 or here  https://bit.ly/30nTbNj

Good Friday Struggle

I hate it.  I really do.  I absolutely hate the story of the cross.

Today is Good Friday.  Today is the day we celebrate a story that I absolutely hate.   What an oxymoron.

This story.  This true, true story--- it tears at my heart and pains me in ways I can't explain.

Each year, as the day approaches and I know the story will be read and retold, I can feel myself wanting to run away and hide.  Like a child, I want to cover my ears, stick my head under my pillow, and never hear the horrible story again.  I hate it.

This past Monday morning, I was stunned by my visceral response when I remembered this was Holy week.  No! I could feel the cringe in my body and soul.  No! I don't want to read that part of the story.  The very mention of the topic and I can feel the sorrow, the pain, the suffering, and the tears welling up.

We call this day "good".  And, with all my heart, I believe and I know it IS indeed good--- so very good.  But, also, I can barely stand it.

It feels like reliving trauma or painful memories of my past.  Why must we, Lord?! 

Friday morning---this morning---we all enter the sanctuary and take our comfy seats.  The pastor reads the story out of Mark.  The parishioner reads from the Gospel of John.  We sing some songs.  They tell the story and share the truth of that day.  All morning, I can barely stand it.  I want to weep.  I want to wail.  Everything in me wants to scream!  Why must I hear again what my best friend---the man I love with all my heart---went through!?  Honestly, hearing the trauma and suffering is almost too much.  Even as I type this... I barely have words.  The heaviness of heart feels profoundly weighty.

Forgive them, for they know not what they do.

These words haunt me today.  These words tag along at my back, touch my cheek, and whisper deep into my heart.  I know I don't have a clue what I do!  I don't even get it.  All my rebellion.  All my selfishness.  All my pride and self-loathing.  Forgive me, Lord, for I don't know what I do! 

I found myself in Romans 7 earlier this week, frustrated with myself and my faithlessness.  "I do not understand what I do.  For what I want to do, I do not do.  But, what I hate, I do." (Romans 7:15)

I know that He pronounced it finished on that day.  He said it was finished that Good, very good, Friday.

For this, I am utterly undone.  My soul feels gratitude beyond words.  It is finished.  All my rebellion.  Covered, finished.  All my selfishness.  Finished and payed for.  All my pride and self-loathing.  Carried, covered, payed for, and finished.  

Forgive me, Lord, for I don't know what I do!  

This story.  This horrible story is the very center and foundation of all I know and all I absolutely need.  The result of that trauma--- my friend's horrific death and painful sacrifice---is the source of all that is good and right in my life.  All of it.

So, yes, I loath it... I really do.   I am grieving today.

But, I know and I remember, it very, very good.

"Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith.  For the joy set before him, he endured the cross, scorning it's shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God"  (Hebrews 12:2)

What is Your Kryptonite?

My kryptonite is "making mistakes" or "doing it wrong"*.

I know, to some personalities, this sounds absurd...  "We all make mistakes", you might say.  All the time everyone makes mistakes, right?  But, for me, even the smallest of mistakes can bring a shame storm of hurricane proportions which ravages my soul.

Other personalities have other kryptonite... for some its vulnerability or powerlessness.  For others, their weak spot is being misunderstood, or a broken relationship, or conflict.  My kryptonite is doing it wrong.

Like Superman, the moment I become aware of my misstep, my soul begins to writhe in pain and I struggle for strength or breath.   Like a green death rock, the mistake is chained around my neck and I can hardly think straight.  I know this sounds overly dramatic.  ...but, it really isn't.  Do you know that feeling of shame?  The hot pouring shame that makes you shake inside and out... call it embarrassment, call it guilt, call it anger (it looks so many shades of green).  Shame seems to take over, ransacking the limbic system of our brain and shutting down the prefrontal cortex that helps us to think rightly!

Whatever your kryptonite is... whatever triggers the shame for you, we all know that hot, breathless place where we either want to fight, freeze or fly away.  In the midst, you just want to disappear... "crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head... go to sleep and never wake up" (exactly how I used to describe it as a teenager).

Well, yes... I do make mistakes all the time... just like everyone else!  And recently, to add insult to injury, I have been making a lot of mistakes.  I mean, a lot.  From small, "nothing" mistakes... to pretty big, significant mistakes... I have been tripping over my own two feet for a few weeks now.

The last mistake was five keys off the right note--- singing in front of a group of people at our town's Open Mic night (another effort in my life to be brave and have fun).  We had planned the song in one key... but, printed the song sheets in a totally (5 key different!) key.  Hmmm...  Yeah, it didn't go so well, as you can imagine.

After sitting down, I could feel the hot shame-filled bucket pour over my head.  I began to shake.  Anger.  Tears welling.  I wanted to disappear... run away, hide under that table.  All I could think was "Never again!!"  Never. Never. Again.  I won't put myself in this position again.  THIS is what brave brings! Never!

The storm lasted in and out through the whole evening, following me into my restless sleeping.  Tossing in the night, I would awake and literally put my hands over my face--- hiding from whom exactly?!?  Myself.  God?    Tossing and turning, I would groan.

I do understand that for some of you reading this, you may think it a bit odd...  why would the wrong note sung in a song bring such pain?  But, weren't we all a bit confused and watched in disbelief when Lex Luthor would chain up Superman with a green rock!  What?  Come on, Superman, it's just a glowing green rock!

Remember, mistakes are my kryptonite.

In the midst of it all, and through the whole night, here and there I also became aware of a still, very small voice that whispered an invitation.  I remember barely hearing its faint words... and almost completely ignoring it... just as I sat down.  After the song finished and I sat---right as the bucket of shame splashed around me at the table when I sat down, I heard it.  It was so quiet.  Almost in the distance...

A still small whisper...  There is another way.  

Stephanie, there is another way.

As I have been prayerfully processing my weeks of wrongs and my discomfort, I have been asking Father about this other way.  Is it another way to sit in or feel shame?  Is it another way to respond entirely to mistakes or doing wrong?  What is the other way, Lord?  

I am certain the answer isn't that I won't have kryptonite----or any weakness.  (Although that would be fabulous!)  For, I know, in my weakness, He is strong!  So, nope... perfection isn't an option.  (Dang it!)

Now, I am asking God to continue to show me the other way of reacting or a new way of seeing Mr. Luthor... What is the other way, Lord, while the kryptonite is being chained around my neck? 

Just for fun... have a gander at the clip of old---bring back childhood memories:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OkSaAhbceBk



*For those who know the Enneagram tool, I am a One.  

Rugged, rough places in My Soul

I felt deep sadness.  I know his words were not meant to hurt.  He would never intentionally want to hurt me, I know this.  But, instantly, I could feel the pain welling.  The tears rose, slowly brimming at the edge---threatening to spill over.  Later, in the quietness and stillness of the morning hours, I could let them pour forth.  Sadness.  Just deep, profound sadness.  

Learning to stay curious about my emotions has been life changing.  I am so grateful for this gift.  

Why, Lord?  Not an intellectual question, as such... but, a soul question.  A question of wonder, awe, and simple curiosity.  I am asking God, the One who knows and sees all, to show me to me.  

Why, Lord?  Why did his words pain me so?  

It's old... deep, and old.  

Old, past wounds were surfacing with the simple scratch of his now words.  They touched something deep.  They touched a young me.  They hurt.  Not because he was hurting me.  They hurt because there was a painful spot, deep within, that was being poked.  Call it scars.  Call it a sore spot.  His words touched something before...  

But, we've looked at these many times, Lord.  

Yes, many, many times.  

So, why is this coming up again?  Why, Lord?  It feels so fresh.  Show me, Lord.  Show me, me.  

My life is dripping with abundance.  Truly.   So, why this sadness today?  It's not about today.

I asked and I sat.  I cried and I prayed.  I journaled.  I picked up the Scriptures and He opened my eyes, again, to His big, grand why-plan...  

In Isaiah 40, God speaks so tenderly to the heart of His people.  He tells them to be comforted. Comfort, comfort we hear Him say.  What comes in the next section surprised me and jumped off the page at me today...   They can be comforted because their sin is forgiven AND because..."Every valley shall be raised up.  Every mountain will be made low.  Every rugged and crooked place straight.  The rough places will be made a plain."(Isaiah 40:4)

This is WHY... this is the why-plan God is activating in my life as I stay curious about my painful, wounded past hurts.  

The truth is, in all of us---every. single. one.--- there are valley places, crooked places, and rough places in our souls.  He loving heart is to smooth us out.  He is clearing out the debris.  He is straightening out the wrong, bent parts of me.  Making me... inside me... a straight, plain place.  He is making me a green pasture.  

The words said to me this morning were not meant to hurt me, I know that.  They were innocent words that happened to fall upon a crooked place in me.  In the quiet and the stillness of moments with God, I can visit those crooked, bent places and have a look.  With Him, I can look intently at the pain.  I see the data point that is my strong, painful emotions.  I stay curious and ask the Spirit of the Lord, who knows all things, to show to me, myself.  And, I trust His work to raise up those valleys.  

Have Your good and loving way in me, Lord!  

Today. Sit down and eat.

It just jumped out at me.  She said it, really, just in passing.  Smack dab in the middle of another story she said it.  And, in that moment, it was as if from the computer Skype screen it jumped out and snatched my heart.  

There are those moments.  They are often small, really.  Small, yes, but not insignificant. I think they are profound moments to be alert to---watch for and be awake.  

It was just in passing.  It rolled off her tongue.  What is He inviting you to today?  she said.  

What. ... His. ...Invitation.  ...You. ...Today.  

Today.  Now.  

Recently a few friends have shared with me the pain and suffering of the dark, grey hues of an unclear future.  These friends look ahead and don't know what to do.  All in remarkably different situations and circumstances. All are uneasy, in the least.   Some are truly panicked. All deeply afraid and even angry.  What was/is God doing?  What is coming?  What am I supposed to do?  I don't know what to do?  It makes no sense.  There is no path forward.  I have heard these questions and statements spoken over and over again.  I have been troubled with them, holding their pain, and praying for each one.  Today, I was reminded me that in each case the worries are about tomorrow---all about the future. 

The future.  Not today.  

Psychological studies say that we spend at least 75% of our time thinking about the future--- be it next week, next month, or ten years from now.  And, other statistical analytical studies show that 95% of what we think about (that 75 % of the time) never comes true... or never even shows up as a reality.  

Tomorrow.   ...or even tomorrow's tomorrow!  

What about the now, Stephanie? What is He inviting you to today? 

The question 'what am I supposed to do?'  ...when asked about the now... is usually, and generally, not that difficult.  What am I supposed to do now?  Well... now ...I need to take a shower, or clean this pile of laundry, or answer that email, or make some dinner, or go to bed.  

It is the future that trips us up.  It is the future that can trip me up.  What is around the corner?  What do I need to prepare myself for?  Or, what will happen if...?  or What am I supposed to do?  

I am struck that regardless of where I am on the journey; whether in the dark valley or the green pastures (Psalm 23), it is very clear what I am supposed to do in the now.   God tells me.  If it's the valley... I am to sit and feast at the table.  Sit down, eat and receive.  

His Word.  His Presence.  God's very self is the food I need as I 'walk' in the valley of the shadow of death.  Let Him pour over me His oil, Himself.   This is the invitation for today... in this dark valley. 

If I find myself in the green pastures...  what am I to do?  Lie down.  Follow.  Rest.  Enjoy.  Be refreshed.  Again, pretty clear what I am to do today.  

As over simplistic, over used, misused, and even trite as it may sound or feel as I type these words on a page: "Do not worry about tomorrow" ... these words feel utterly essential for my heart today.  

For my friends.  For me.

I want to look for His invitation to sit down and eat.  Today.  Or, to wade in the water, rest and lie down.  Can I just get on with it and fix dinner, or write that email, or fold that laundry while feasting on Him?  Can I simply do what I need to do today, and let His love and goodness follow and surround me?  

Lord, what do You have for me today?  

A Mother's Lament

photo source

I sent her off on a jet plane.

She is only going for a few weeks this time---a trial run, really.  Not the real launch.  Not yet.

In one big, true way I can see she is more than ready and it "feels right and good".  And, yet...
And, yet... wasn't it just last week that I was helping her eat, stand and learn to walk.  Wasn't it just yesterday that she was snuggled in or singing and swinging in my yard.

I keep saying it to friends, when they are kind enough to ask--- it feels like I am birthing again. It feels like labor.

Horrible, wonderful, productive, sickening, necessary and painful labor.  When you give birth to a baby, you know that this is "right and good" and you wait and watch in wonder.  It is "as it should be".  But, man---oh---man, does it hurt.  This has been my experience these past months as we ready our family to launch our first daughter.

As she walked away from us at the airport with bounce and confidence... I wanted to feel excitement and joy.  And, I did.  She is ready.  Mixed emotions swirl---joy, pride, peace.  But, what I feel most strongly is deep grief and sadness.  It is so hard to let go.  Tears came unbidden even in the very public airport.  They stream out, with little attention to the "appropriate" time-and-place.

Tears well up even as I type.  How do I do this with You, Lord?  How do I trust more and lean into You alone?  

When a woman gives birth her everything changes.  Scientifically we know that labor and delivery changes a mother's brain, her muscles, her hormones, her skin---it all changes.  Before I was pregnant, my hair was a light, bright blonde.  After birth, my hair quickly grew thicker and darker. All "young" toe-head blonde Stephanie was lost with this babe.

These babies.  These dear ones change everything.

And, now, I find myself in the same state.  Changing.  Watching, waiting, feeling the swirling anticipation and anxiety.  Eighteen years of my life with my heart, soul, and body turned toward her.  ...and now she walks away.  With beautiful, bounding energy, she prances away into the passport line.  It is as it should be.  Right and good.  And, it is deeply painful at the very same time.

I checked my phone yesterday way too many times; obsessed with wanting her "touch" via that whatsapp or messenger.

I close the door to her bedroom, so I don't have to look in to the empty as I pass by.

I struggle for the gumption to make our regular Saturday morning fun-breakfast; as if her not being with us makes it less than.       Ah... the pains of labor.

I read in Ann Voskamp's newest book, "I know a mother's labor and delivery never ends, and you have to keep remembering to breathe" and my soul shouts: Yes, Ann!  Yes! This is exactly what I have been saying these past months.  I will remember to breathe, Lord.  Breath You in---the giver of life, my hope, my strength and my joy.  

Breathe.  Just breathe.

"As long as I have life within me, the breath of God is in my nostrils."  Job 27:3

Watch and wait.
As with labor and delivery, good things are coming in the midst of the pain.
God things are around the corner.

A Strange Song

We received hard news the other day.  My response was raw.

I was deeply sad, confused and angry.  I truly thought that God was saying "yes" to a particular request---and then He said, "No".  I felt like a bewildered and disgruntled child.  I felt duped.  The rug had just been pulled out from under my feet.

Had I heard wrong?  Apparently!

Only last month my mentor asked me, "How do you relate to God in your grief? Do you express it to Him?"  I had found myself dumbfounded with the question--- relating to God in the grief.  In the midst...

So much still to learn.

Ranting through the day, I gave it a go.  This concept of authentic and real interaction with God. With all of me---the real me.  These raw emotions.  Could I simply have them and communicate them honestly to my God? Could I, as David and Jesus did, express those hard emotions directly to my Father, in faith.

"Where are you God?"
"Why have you forsaken me?"
"Will you remain silent forever?"

Like my husband, who gently, gracefully and calmly listened to much of my rantings that day, God seemed quietly sitting with me.  Receiving it, but not responding.  Present.  Solid.  Okay.  God was okay.  His Presence didn't falter.  I didn't feel His wrath at my strong, ugly, raw emotions.  In my anger, I asked. I questioned.  I demanded.  I cried.  It wasn't pretty.

It certainly wasn't the first time---but, it was a significant step for me in being wholly and truly ME with God.  In the midst...  Raw and real with God.

Late in the day, standing at the sink and washing my hands in the warm water, my heart cried out, "Father..."  A cry of "Ugh.."  A deep sigh of frustration escaped my lips.

In that very instant, suddenly came the strangest song...

It was Elvis Presley.  (A caveat here---I simply do NOT always have a song in my head.  Rarely. Very rarely, in fact.  And, I certainly don't have Elvis in my head!  When even was the last time I heard Elvis?!)

In that moment, clear as day, Elvis was singing into my thoughts, "Love me tender, love me true.... for my darlin' I love you and I always will"

There it was---and I knew.  I knew, as surely as I was conscious of the warm water washing my hands, that this was God's heart speaking.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Y-bd3aDMGA

God was asking me, in the most tender way, do you love Me, even so?  

Job 13:15 "Even though He slay me, I will trust Him."  

He was saying, My love for you does not falter or shift.  All I ask in return is love.  Love me with all your heart, with your soul and with your mind.  

Stephanie, love me tender.  Love me sweet.  Never let me go.  Love me tender, love me long.  Take me to your heart---for it is there that I belong and will never part.  

This God.  This amazing Lover that offers Himself and His love to me, over and over.  For always. For keeps.  ...all He asks from me is to remain in that love.  He asks for my love. 

I am not told to understand Him with all my heart, my soul and my mind.  No.  I don't have to understand.  I don't have to agree.  I just must love.  

Yes, Lord, I love you.  I love you tender and sweet.  I am yours.  
All I want for Christmas is You!  

"We love because He first loved us" (1 John 4:19)

This Disease is Killing Us

photo source

I treasure those beautiful moments when you are speaking truth to a friend and, it seems, the Holy Spirit is simultaneously nudging and whispering, "Are you listening to this?"  Like a mirror reflecting an image, your own voice bounces back and you hear yourself...  or you hear His voice in your words.

It is that very moment when the words of truth pouring out are the very water my soul needs.   Pouring out and drinking in, all at the same time.

I was speaking with a friend who was sharing her new diagnosis of a long-term illness: an illness I am very, very familiar with.*  She was sharing with me her fears and her anxieties.  Of course she is afraid!  Of course this is troubling.  It sucks!  I hear you, friend.  I hear you.

After listening and empathizing with the frustration, sadness and "suck-ness" of her situation, I heard these words slip out of my mouth, "I have had this disease for 30 years.  And, I promise you--- I promise you!--- the worry and fear, through the years, has robbed FAR more from me than the disease has ever done".  Yes, disease robs and steals.  But, worry and fear rob far more.

Worry robs more than reality.  Every time...  

Worry robs more... 

Always.  It is just the truth.

I have been reading a lot about the brain recently and we know, even scientifically, that worry is a future oriented thought process.  In order to worry, we have to be thinking of the future---not the now. Not the real, right-now reality of our lives.  Worry is the "what ifs" and "will it?" "will they?" and the "how will I?", "can I?"...  The worry isn't real.  It isn't true.  It is make believe.  Always.  Tomorrow may truly never come.  Tomorrow isn't real, or true.  Worry about tomorrow, according to brain experts, is simply a waste of important energy.  Unfortunate, unproductive (even damaging) and a wasteful firing of neurons.

(Funny how science eventually catches up with the Bible... Matthew 6:34 and James 4:13-14)

This 'make-believe' we play in our heads steals and robs from our today.  In fact, it is literally physically killing us.  When we worry and fear, our bodies release a powerful hormone; one that can throw off the balance of all our body chemistry and has detrimental affects on our health and well being when it is regularly released.  Worry is deadly.  Worry and fear steal from our minds, our bodies and our souls. They do very little to help us.  (...the occasional need to run from a bear or escape an earthquake are the rare times that we are grateful for this hormone released from worry or fear!)

I have learned through the years to stop and prayerfully ask myself two questions:  First, "what story am I telling myself?"  and, secondly,  "What is real? or What is actually true, the mere facts, right now?"

Answering these questions brings grounding.  While grounded in the now, I can connect to the real of Jesus here.   Him here today.  Now.

I am learning.  I see it.  And, I am grateful.

I don't know if my friend was able to take-in the testimony I was sharing...  "the worry and fear have robbed more than the disease".    I'm not sure it was for her that day.  I think it may have been just for me.   A good reminder.  I need not worry about tomorrow.  I need never be afraid.

I heard it, Lord.  I hear it and choose again today to trust You.

*If you are curious and would like to read more about my health, healing, and physical journey--- you can read here, here and here (and many other places on this site...)

Looking for the Rainbow

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It rains often where I live.  A lot.  ...I mean it... it rains a lot!

As I sit here and glance out the window, I see the rain begin again... It is our 'normal' here.  And, I don't hate it.  I know that I live in a very green land and, in truth, we are green here because of the rain.  Green and rain go hand-and-hand.  Today, though, I realize that it is raining while at the same time it is bright and sunny. With that recognition comes excitement.   My heart leaps with a happy thought, "There will be a rainbow!"  Somewhere I know there will be a rainbow.  I just have to find it!  Go looking for it...

Praying, a few months back, for my two children, my mother's heart was asking that my kids would be spared from pain--- this specific pain, that pain, ANY pain, Lord.   Spare them from any pain, Lord. In that moment, as the cry of my heart issued forth, my attention was drawn immediately to the window.  I looked outside and saw the rain.  In the quietness and with a gentle whisper, I felt the Lord breathe a truth into my heart...  In order for green and growth, we need sunshine AND rain, Stephanie. Both are necessary.   

Sunshine and rain.  

I know this.  We all know this.  But, oh!, how we feel when the rain and storms of life come.  With this kind reminder from God, I began to pray differently.  Okay, Lord.  Yes, I want my children to be 'green' with life!  I want them to grow and flourish in You.  So, Lord... I trust You with the rain.  Bring rain AND sunshine in my children's lives.  Only as much rain as necessary, Father!  ...Lord, protect them from floods and storms that are not necessary to their growth.  Protect them from hail and destructive hurricanes.  But, I say "yes and amen!" to Your gifts of sunshine and rain in their lives.  

I pray.  I begin again to trust and believe--- Lord, help me with my unbelief.  And, I ask that they would grow.  I also pray that they would look for and see more and more rainbows.  Go looking for it...

We call it good

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Today is Good Friday.

We celebrate and remember today that Jesus was brutally tortured and killed. And, we call this single event in history "good"?

We call it good, because it is good. It is very good.

I have been thinking much lately, in light of my own personal physical pain, what it might look to truly, deeply, be thankful for my suffering. What might it look like to rejoice in my trial or to see my pain as a gift of joy? (James 1:2: Consider it pure joy when you face trials of all kinds.)

In the midst of pain, this is a very hard thing to do.

Even two steps away from suffering, the clouds can lift and I can see "reasons" and grace in hindsight. I can see what He has done in it and through it... when I am looking at it from some distance. But, right smack dab in the middle of pain... rejoicing, being thankful and calling pain "good" is hard.

This past year, I have felt the Lord calling me to this, though. He seems to be leading me onward in this journey of pain and inviting me to "more".  At least, that is what I sense by His invitation. There is more to be had when you can call it good and see Me as good in it. Is this what He has been whispering?

He isn't asking me to say this with words; He is asking me to know this with heart.

Although a rough path, I do find myself understanding it a bit more. I seem to be able to, even in the midst, to say that He is good. My trust in His love over me is expanding. This is a gift, in-and-of-itself. Truly. It isn't something that I could teach anyone, ...I can barely find words to explain it..., but it is something I have had to live through. I have had to walk in, to feel, to wrestle with .

In truth, my physical pain has been quite minimal in compared with other pains that I have wrestled with through the years. Recently, I experienced an impromptu gathering of women. This table full of women had all come from divorced and broken families. As we shared, we found such comfort in hearing each other's stories. In each woman, regardless of age, tears were readily available... brimming eyes and some spilling tenderly on cheeks.

Such deep pain. Such soul upheaval. Such foundation breaking we all experienced at young, tender ages... even though our stories are all different! This pain. How do you call this pain "good"?

Was what they did that day to my Jesus, my Brother, good? NO! But... but, ...strangely, yes. Yes, it was good.

I am so glad they did! Isn't that just a crazy statement?! I am so glad they killed Him and that He gave His life for me! What an upside down thought?! But, what else do I have but that beautiful death on the cross. What else do I rely on, each day, but the blood of my precious Savior poured out on me!? I couldn't have the resurrection if I didn't have the death!

Don't we, in the cross, have a model for thanking God in suffering? Don't we have in Christ, each time we take communion, a picture of what it means to rejoice and say "thank you" for death, pain and suffering?

How does this work with the intense evil in our world? How does this work with the pain inflicted by Satan and those who are filled and living in his sick and twisted darkness? How does this work with sin, base choices, ...and depravity? How does this work with Jesus not being a victim... but being the One who chose this. He, Himself, layed His life down.

I don't know. I really don't know. These answers have been debated for centuries. Certainly, there is no easy answer!

But, wasn't Pilate ...and Caiaphas ... and Judas ...and the Roman soldiers mocking Him... were they not acting as Satan's very hands of evil? Were they not heinous in their actions? Sinful in their choices?

I don't know much about this topic, but this I do know: I boast in the cross of Christ. I boast in my Savior crucified! I boast.

What I do know is that today is Good Friday. I will remember what Christ did for me today! And, I will give thanks for the suffering! ...His suffering. ...and mine.

I call it good. Because, it is good.


a re-post from April 2011

Tears of a Friend

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We don't like to see a friend in pain and we don't like to see them cry, right?  But, when we do have the privilege of seeing another's tears; when we invite intimacy, we do get the gift of tears from each other.  When a friend offers her tears to us as a gift...  or, when we enter in with them, feeling with them... when we allow our hearts to be touched by their pain...

When we can cry with a friend, then there is a deep connection, isn't there?

Pondering the sufferings of Christ brought tears to my eyes this morning as we passed the bread and the cup.   I entered in. In that quiet moment celebrating communion, my heart remembered what He did for me that beautiful, painful day on Calvary's hill!  And, it hurt to remember.  It pained me.   I remember, my precious Jesus.  I remember.  

With the tears there was indeed deep connection.  Somewhere within, I think, I touched the sufferings of Christ---even if only slightly.

So far, this is the Lenten season for me.  This is where I think He might be leading me.  The phrase, "touch and remember the sufferings of Christ", has been bouncing around in my head and in my heart.

To touch.  To sense.  To remember and re-acquaint myself with the pain and sorrow of this Man I love.  My Jesus.

Today, He led me further into this thought.  As I sat in stillness and solitude, my thoughts raced.  My mind whirled with faces.  My heart was filled with this week's memories:  thoughts of painful news, the suffering of a child, the loss of a loved one, the sickness of a friend, and the wandering away from faith...  This suffering.  These tears.  Today's suffering.

Today's suffering which He feels today.  My sufferings which He feels.  ...My friend, Jesus.

I was moved with the sufferings of Christ today.

What might He feel as He walks beside His children who are in pain?  What must He feel as He whispers His love into hearts and minds who shun and ignore Him?  What must He feel as He watches His sisters cry and His brothers turn away from His Presence, running to sin?  He suffers today.

My pain.  And, your pain.  And, her pain.  He feels them all as He intercedes.  As He advocates and as He speaks Truth louder than the Liar, the accuser of the brethren. (Revelation 12:10).  He is our friend and our intercessor (I John 2:1, Hebrews 7:25).  He is always with us.

Until He comes again, we can remember His death and proclaim it as real for us today.  This pain is our "now" truth as we wait for the "not yet" of our resurrection and eternal life without tears.  Tears and suffering are for today.  His death and His grief, even now, are our touchstone in this broken and painful world.

When I invite it, I can be privileged to see, to hear, and to connect with His tears and His sufferings today.  My friend, Jesus.

I remember, Jesus.  Today.  May I know Your sufferings--- to share in them with you, my Jesus (I Peter 4:13)  May I hear Your heart and see Your tears as I walk through my day.  What breaks Your heart?   Break my heart with what breaks your heart.

Pain stinks

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We all walk the road of pain in this broken, broken world.  And, when I have to endure suffering and pain, it sucks.  Doesn't it?  Plain and simple.  It stinks.

But, to watch someone you love suffer and to feel so helpless to stop their pain... well, that just rips and tears in a way that is different and deep.  The watching is not more painful, per se.  It is just different and intense and confusing.

I am watching someone in pain and I am witness to suffering that I can't stop.  And, it hurts deep.  It pains my heart in ways that are hard to put words to...

In tears, I sat with the Lord this morning.  What do I even say to You, Lord?  I had no words.  Just tears.

I hate this suffering.  I hate to watch and hear about the pain.  I hate the confusion.  Father...  

There are times when words don't work and all we have is His name.  Father...   My eyes cried tears as my heart whispered this single word today.  Father.  A single word was enough--- it was full expression of my prayer to Him.

We have been talking about the beauty of Lent and this season of "longing" and "hunger":  A time to feel, to touch and remember the sufferings of Christ.  ...waiting for Good Friday.  ...waiting for Easter.  ...waiting and anticipating the resurrection and eternal life.

Oh man! With the news of this suffering, I can feel the deep longing and the groaning for Heaven!  Lent lessons right smack dab in front of me.

Longing.  And heaviness.  And, sadness.  Oh Father...  

After the tears subsided, there came a few more words to aid my prayer...  Isn't there another way?  

These words came out of my heart unbidden.  As they formed in my mind I recognized them---Don't they sound familiar?  Isn't this what Jesus was saying to the Father in the garden? Can this cup pass from me, please, Father? (Matthew 26:39)  Isn't there another way, Father?  

I know this road--or, at least, I know a small portion of this road.

And, I know beyond any shadow of doubt that suffering and pain have done significant work in me:  heart, soul and character work in my life.  Deep work.  I know... that I know... that know... that I know...  that suffering has indeed produced endurance.  It is producing faith, character and hope in my life.  In fact, I really can't imagine myself without my past and current pain journey.  It is one way, one avenue, God has used greatly to show me His love and His touch and the knowledge of Him.

I want this deep, heart work in my loved one.  But, still as I watch this dear one hurting...  and, I asked my loving Father, Is there any other way?   

There was no straight answer to my question.  There are no easy answers to pain and suffering, are there?
But there was a faint lifting of heart and a glimmer of hope welling up from within me.  I have been learning and am re-learning today that this faith and hope will not disappoint.  God's love will be poured into my and her life.  (Romans 5:3-5)

But, the truth still remains.  To endure suffering or watch suffering simply stinks.  Royally.  Doesn't it?

Pain Rips

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A rip and a tear.  That is what hearing about suffering does to my heart.

There is somewhere deep within my soul that screams, "No!!" in response to tragedy and suffering.   Almost a visceral response, a sickening feeling, and an ache deep within.  Do you feel it?  I was not made for this!  We were not made for this, Lord!  

When I hear news of a random shooting, or I hear of torture, or cancer, or adultery, or trafficking...  I want to weep and scream and escape all at the same time.  Something deep within my soul just moans, "No! Just stop the madness!"   

We were not made for this... the ripping and tearing and pain that happens in our hearts, our minds, and our bodies with pain and suffering.  We were made for something else.  We were made for life--- eternal life.  We were made for an unending love-connection with God and our brothers.  We were made for peace and freedom.    Not this.  

Not death, destruction, lies and corruption.  It isn't right.  It just isn't right.  And we know it.  Our souls, my soul knows it keenly.  

When Paul prays in Ephesians for the new believers there, he asks God to enlighten the eyes of their hearts.  How does a heart see?   What is it my heart is seeing right now?  Paul asks God to open the eyes of their hearts so that they can be aware and know hope.   Open the eyes of my heart, Lord!  

We just must see beyond.  We need to know hope.  

Hope. Is that the answer to this screaming tantrum my soul is having in light of current news reports of evil?   

Paul asks God to show their hearts the hope of their inheritance.  The children of God are heirs.    

Inheritance has both a "now and not yet" idea with it, doesn't it?  Even with a superficial financial inheritance we know this to be true.  The "now" concept of a secure inheritance brings the heir a freedom of living and light-hearted trust in tomorrow.   Simply by knowing they are an "heir" is a positive label and banner to be held high.  All things will be okay for this person---they don't have worry about tomorrow.  Just in this simple example of monetary inheritance, small "bumps" in ones finances don't bother too much---because, in the end all will be just fine.  It will all work out.  

I am an heir.  But, Scripture reminds me that being an heir with Christ, my brother, means that I have to share in His suffering (how do you think these shootings and sickness feel to him?).  But, being an heir with Christ also means that I will one day share in His glory.  I have a hope to share in glory---this is truly beyond me!  You, too, have this hope if you are Christ's sister or brother!  You are an heir.  

We have this hope for our future... I have hope for my spiritual, emotional and physical future.  I do know that all will be okay.  I can walk in peace with the banner of Truth over my heart and life.  And, I know that in the end all debts will be paid for and all "bumps" will be made right.  It does help to remember this. It does help to walk in the Truth of who He is, who I am in Him, and what His bigger plan is for the future...

All will be made right.  This is hope.  

Though, if I am honest, ...today...  Today, all is absolutely not right.  And, it pains me deeply.  Today I need a little more light, Father God, to open the eyes of this here heart.    Because today I just feel sad and angry.  I feel the rip and tearing of pain.  We need You to light our eyes and fill our hearts with hope of our inheritance of joy, peace, and Your glory!      

The crooked will be made straight.  (Isaiah 40:4)
Sorrow and sighing will flee away  (Isaiah 35:9,10)

"Make your Now the richer and deeper this Christmas by drinking at the fountain of Forever, it is so near." ~John Piper

A Painful Conversation

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But you see, Lord...  I was supposed to be perfect yesterday.      

Silly thought?  Maybe.  But certainly my thought---my honest and deep thought ---that rose to the surface as I wrestled with a new health issue in my life that reared it's ugly head last night.

Anger, mixed with sadness.  Frustration, mixed-up with worry and fear.  ...my heart cried out to the Lord!

I am supposed to be well.  All better.  
I am supposed to be done with pain and suffering!  
I want health!  I want well-being.  I want to be strong.

...for you...  for your glory ...  Even as I thought it, there was a 'check' in my spirit.

As I prayed this prayer through tears, a gentle response wafted across my mind.  For Me?...  Really, Stephanie?  You want perfection for Me?

And then came a wordless impression that accompanied the tender question:  Do you want my best for you?  My best----  

His best.   After a 25 year journey through pain that was (mostly) healed with an operation June 2011, I have learned that sometime His best... His deep, loving, expansive best... comes through and in pain.  Pain is not a bad thing in-and-of-itself, I have learned.   Pain can be a gift.  God's best for me here on earth can include pain and suffering.  Like a wise gardener knows, pain can be pruning... and a tender cutting back---that looks to the outside as ruthless hacking!

Do you trust my boundless love for you?  Do you want my best for you, in you?  For My glory?  My glory in you, through you, for you?   

And, I cried some more.  And He met me with peace.

I want to be perfect, Lord.  I hate being weak and vulnerable.   I feel so afraid when I am weak and sick.  I hate being the "sick one".   I want to be the "well-one" for once!  

I know, Stephanie...  

Oh Father!  But, this might not be for today...  Right? Father, maybe this desire for perfection is not for the now.  Or, at least, not for today.  

My strength is made perfect in your weakness, my sweet girl.  

Your strength...  Your perfection, Lord.  Oh!  I have so much yet to learn about You.  ...

There are many, many things I know in my head.  Things I can write here or preach next week at Bible study.  True things.  Right things.  Some of these things I know well in my heart, too.  He has brought them home to me and they sit in my gut---informing my days with peace and wisdom.

But there are other things... other Truths... , many other True things that are harder to swallow depending on the day.  Depending on the hour.

I still have trouble seeing You, knowing Your Presence, in the midst of pain, Father.  

Yes, ...yes, you do, Stephanie...

So, I ... have further to go in this lesson...  higher up, deeper in.  I do want Your best.  I do trust Your loving hand.  

...And, surrender did come this morning.  Real, deep, honest surrender to His Love and His best did happen in my heart.  This surrender, too, was a moment of His grace...  

Because, My grace is sufficient for You, Stephanie (2 Corinthians 12:9,10)

It is never easy.

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It never is easy.

To forgive.

When the pain has been real, and hard, and deep... it is never easy to forgive.

My sweet girl is learning.  And, so am I---alongside her.

"I don't know if I am ready to forgive her", she responded with tears.  She was responding to my question, "Can I help you? Can I help you forgive her?"

...if I am ready.  When are we ever really ready to let it go and to lay it down?  Are you ready?

Sometimes we just have to choose.  And, that is never easy.

"But she hurt me...", she explained, not protesting as much as asking me to understand.

"Yes," I replied, "if I was in your shoes, I would be hurt too."

Forgiveness isn't needed unless it has hurt.  Forgiveness is only really necessary if injustice has been done.  Where there is wrath and judgment rightly earned, there and only there is forgiveness really forgiveness at all.

I think, as Christians, we push too many of these hurts under-the-carpet of "brotherly love".  "It isn't really that big of deal", we might say.  Or, "they didn't mean it".  Or, "I am just being over sensitive."  In this, we don't actually forgive bad behavior, instead we ignore it or excuse it.  Which would be a great tactic if it worked.  But, it doesn't.  We push it under-the-carpet and then it actually grows mold, stench and bitter roots under our carpets.  These things---even these little things--- must be acknowledged.  ...before God.

I am not talking confrontation here.  I am talking about acknowledgement---to the One who does "get-it" and the One who is perfect!

So, she did it.

My sweet girl.  She told God that she had been hurt.  She told God that what this girl had done had been painful and wrong.  ...even if this girl was totally unaware.  How common is that true?  Most those hurts we push under the carpet are hurts that the perpetrator doesn't even know they have done.  ...but, they still hurt.

Those sticks.  Those stones.  And, those words have hurt.

And, they can be forgiven.  And, they can be covered by brotherly love!  But, they need to be acknowledged and held up before the Lord of the Universe who sees all.

She told God how she felt.  And, then we asked the Holy Spirit to show her what He thought about the situation.  We asked the Holy Spirit what He would say about them... both girls... both she and her friend.  What did He think?  And, with revelation came peace and compassion.  With His Voice came release and the ability to forgive.  To bless.

We ended our prayer time with my girl initiating blessing over this friend.  "I bless her, Jesus.  Pour out Your blessing on her, I ask."

And, the heavy hurt was lifted.

It still makes her stomach churn just a bit when she thinks of it, she said to me today.  Of course it does, my girl.  Of course, it does!

But, keep blessing.  ...keep asking for His blessing on this friend's life.  And, though it isn't easy.
It is good.  It is very good.

To forgive.