Yesterday, I found out that my son is due to have another surgery. I started counting and this will be his fifth actual surgery but if I count the times he’s been under anesthesia for various tests and procedures as well, I think we are around 15 or more.
I sat yesterday in the doctor’s office listening to the plan she had for him. And I realized I have all these years had a split personality. One part of me, the rational part that has to make these decisions, understands, accepts, agrees, sees the need, the hope for success and signs the papers. And part of me, the part that was born in 1999 is sitting somewhere in the background of my mind weeping. This part of me would have long ago bundled up my son and run away from the needles and the scalpels and the pain. But this part of me stays hidden for the sake of him. The rip in my heart is caused by these two people warring inside of me.
I know I must let go and do what is best for him – always with my eye on who he will want to be when he is my age – and not what is best for me. But I do not want to cause him any more pain. He has had enough.
Ultimately the fight settles on the hope I have in the Lord and what He has planned. Beyond the surgeon’s hand, beyond the scars and the pain. These two parts of me, the rational and irrational tumble together at the feet of the Creator. I do not understand why but there is comfort in knowing that He does.
And once again, I will pry my selfish short-sighted fist open and let go. I will give my son over to the One who made him. And pray that He will, as He has each time, give him back.
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
Are You Burned Up?
We are getting ready to go camping tomorrow. We decided that we wanted to get a new propane lantern. We had never had one before and always admired them. So, we bought one today. While reading the instructions, I learned what I think I may have known before. Before the mantle can be used to create light, you have to light a match and let it burn. The silk it is made with burns away and what remains are ceramics and chemicals that burn brightly.
It made me think of my SELF and how often I think I must do things on my own. How often I desire to shine in my own power. It never works. It never will. The only way I can shine is if my self is all used up, then I can get out of the way and let the light of God shine through me.
Lord, make me a mantle.
It made me think of my SELF and how often I think I must do things on my own. How often I desire to shine in my own power. It never works. It never will. The only way I can shine is if my self is all used up, then I can get out of the way and let the light of God shine through me.
Lord, make me a mantle.
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Rain
That’s about all I have to say today. It rained on Friday – drenching, pouring rain. I woke up from a nap (okay, so don’t be mad at me, I took a nap on Friday) and I heard a strange sound. My sun-dried brain could not quite place it. I went to the bathroom and through the vent in the ceiling, I heard a whooshing sound. Could it be? I went to the front door and opened it and, yes, it was. It really was pouring rain outside. Still hot and now humid, but definitely WET. I walked out and much to my children’s surprise, I just stood there. I had heard that it might rain that day but I had the grain of salt readily available. But there I was holding my hands out and soaking it up just like my sage bushes. Each child ventured out for a moment only to scream with glee when the rain hit them and run back inside. I stood out there for a few minutes and then it really started to slap me, so I scooted on in (you don’t want your neighbors to think you are a COMPLETE fool). No sooner had I stepped inside than my phone rang and it was my husband, “Did you know it was raining?”
I didn’t know I had missed it so much.
I love the way the earth smells and I love the way the green of the trees is never greener than when it is set against a blue-black sky. I love the way the water in the air gives everything around me an intense, cool hue.
Some people tell me that if I lived somewhere where it rained all the time I would tire of it. Perhaps that is true. I know that I got tired of the rain coming UP into my umbrella when I walked the streets of Boston as a student (but that had more to do with wind than rain) and I remember kind of being tired of being WET all the time. But I do remember the Charles River after a rain and that soaky gray of the buildings and that even there in the middle of a city like that, the earth could still smell a little newer.
But I will say there is no rain like Southwest rain, where you can actually watch a storm come down a valley toward you, where you can get so high up on a mountain you can watch the rain from above, where you can see the biggest bluest blackest clouds ever, and where you can even watch rainfall that never makes it all the way to the ground.
Thank you, Lord, for the sweet simple joy of rain on a dry land.
I didn’t know I had missed it so much.
I love the way the earth smells and I love the way the green of the trees is never greener than when it is set against a blue-black sky. I love the way the water in the air gives everything around me an intense, cool hue.
Some people tell me that if I lived somewhere where it rained all the time I would tire of it. Perhaps that is true. I know that I got tired of the rain coming UP into my umbrella when I walked the streets of Boston as a student (but that had more to do with wind than rain) and I remember kind of being tired of being WET all the time. But I do remember the Charles River after a rain and that soaky gray of the buildings and that even there in the middle of a city like that, the earth could still smell a little newer.
But I will say there is no rain like Southwest rain, where you can actually watch a storm come down a valley toward you, where you can get so high up on a mountain you can watch the rain from above, where you can see the biggest bluest blackest clouds ever, and where you can even watch rainfall that never makes it all the way to the ground.
Thank you, Lord, for the sweet simple joy of rain on a dry land.
Monday, July 2, 2007
Whom Do You Love?
What a great thing it is to have people around you that you love. Family. Friends, even celebrities that we can enjoy through music and television. I have one friend that really makes me laugh, one that would be here right *now* if I asked, one that teaches me to be content, one that teaches me to pray, one who will always be there through time and distance, one that needs me, one that gets all my jokes, one from whom I get to steal jokes (right about now, you’re reading this and wondering which one you are... aren’t you??).
We have family around us attached to us through some unseen cords, sometimes against our will, yet the truth of blood always surfaces. We have that strange relationship of spouse, which is a difficult combination of the same and yet not the same.
Today when I dropped my husband off at work after having lunch together, I watched him walk away and realized that though we want to be as close as possible to people around us, though we think we have so many loved ones surrounding us, ultimately, we are alone in our own skins. We come together with a friend and we, say, see a movie or get a bite to eat. We love it, we relish the time together, we laugh, we tell stories that illuminate who we are. And yet at the end of it all, we walk away, back to our lives. Even with our spouses, we can’t know and be everything all the time to each other. At some point in every day we walk away, even if it is just location.
I have always struggled with the desire to be close to people, closer than I should, closer than there was time for, and these thoughts left me feeling so abjectly alone. And then there was a tap on my shoulder.
And Jesus whispered in my ear – I will never walk away.
I suddenly understood (and I’m shocked it took me this long) why no one else can fill me up, why no one should. It is so I will always need Him and He will be Enough.
We have family around us attached to us through some unseen cords, sometimes against our will, yet the truth of blood always surfaces. We have that strange relationship of spouse, which is a difficult combination of the same and yet not the same.
Today when I dropped my husband off at work after having lunch together, I watched him walk away and realized that though we want to be as close as possible to people around us, though we think we have so many loved ones surrounding us, ultimately, we are alone in our own skins. We come together with a friend and we, say, see a movie or get a bite to eat. We love it, we relish the time together, we laugh, we tell stories that illuminate who we are. And yet at the end of it all, we walk away, back to our lives. Even with our spouses, we can’t know and be everything all the time to each other. At some point in every day we walk away, even if it is just location.
I have always struggled with the desire to be close to people, closer than I should, closer than there was time for, and these thoughts left me feeling so abjectly alone. And then there was a tap on my shoulder.
And Jesus whispered in my ear – I will never walk away.
I suddenly understood (and I’m shocked it took me this long) why no one else can fill me up, why no one should. It is so I will always need Him and He will be Enough.
Friday, June 29, 2007
What Do You See?
Yesterday during an interview for the state medical coverage that my son receives, I was asked a question. Well, really, it was the 100th question or so... we had gone over all of his issues and doctors and needs and goals and therapy plans. I’m used to answering all of those questions. It’s my main job, keeping track of all of that—keeping track of him and all his doctors, juggling which issue is most pressing and which specialist we should call this week.
Then, she asked me a question I couldn’t answer.
“What do you see in your son’s future?”
The question still brings me to tears. My perfectionism wants an outline, an answer, a “crystal ball”. I long for a vision from God of him as an adult. But I just can’t see it. I can’t find it in my mind’s eye.
All my fears are bundled up in my son. I realize that every year I am afraid this is where he will get stuck. But every year he proves me wrong. Still, the great unknown looms out there. What will high school be for him? Will he be able to go to college? Have a job of his own? How many of his dreams will he be able to accomplish? And how many heartbreaks will he endure?
But then I realize that none of these answers are provided for either of my children – or even for me. Here is where faith and trust come to a crisis for me. The hardest thing in the world for me to do is let go of my children. My comfort comes from knowing that in Whose hands I entrust them is the Creator of the universe. He knows what the future holds, good, bad, scary, painful, wonderful, miraculous.
I just very wisely told a friend that while God knows the plan and He is in control, I believe he is far more interested in who I am while I am waiting for the plan to be completed. And as soon as I said it, I knew that it was the answer to the question I could not answer.
I can’t know the answer, but I can know Him. And in knowing Him, He will direct my path (and my children’s as they grow to know and love Him). And if He, who is all knowing and all powerful and all good, is directing my path, then how can I fear?
Then, she asked me a question I couldn’t answer.
“What do you see in your son’s future?”
The question still brings me to tears. My perfectionism wants an outline, an answer, a “crystal ball”. I long for a vision from God of him as an adult. But I just can’t see it. I can’t find it in my mind’s eye.
All my fears are bundled up in my son. I realize that every year I am afraid this is where he will get stuck. But every year he proves me wrong. Still, the great unknown looms out there. What will high school be for him? Will he be able to go to college? Have a job of his own? How many of his dreams will he be able to accomplish? And how many heartbreaks will he endure?
But then I realize that none of these answers are provided for either of my children – or even for me. Here is where faith and trust come to a crisis for me. The hardest thing in the world for me to do is let go of my children. My comfort comes from knowing that in Whose hands I entrust them is the Creator of the universe. He knows what the future holds, good, bad, scary, painful, wonderful, miraculous.
I just very wisely told a friend that while God knows the plan and He is in control, I believe he is far more interested in who I am while I am waiting for the plan to be completed. And as soon as I said it, I knew that it was the answer to the question I could not answer.
I can’t know the answer, but I can know Him. And in knowing Him, He will direct my path (and my children’s as they grow to know and love Him). And if He, who is all knowing and all powerful and all good, is directing my path, then how can I fear?
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
What Hurts You?
I suffer from joint pain almost every day. My hands and feet hurt me terribly every morning and even when I wake from a nap. Some days are worse than others. But it usually gets better once I’m up and around so I have come to sort of accept it.
Then, while I was in the mountains last week I realized halfway through the week that my familiar friend was missing. My hands might have been slightly stiff but there was no pain. It was so strange. And then after one night in the valley, I woke up in pain again.
Why did it go away? Why did it come back? Was it the altitude? (If the Lord is telling me to move to the mountains, I’m all over that...) was it all the water I was constantly drinking (which seems to elude me here in the air conditioning..)? Was it the miles and miles of walking I did?
I was thinking this morning how we often have “mountaintop experiences” where we get to go away to a place like this camp, be surrounded by the Lord’s beautiful creation, biblical teaching and uplifting music. We get to shed the pain of the world. We get to live apart from it and forget it for a time.
And how easy it is to land back “on earth” and be sucked back into the world, the worries, the temptations. Why do I need to worry about this thing today that didn’t even cross my mind last week? Why am I reminded of this pain in my soul when I was able to be free from it for 6 days?
My goal is to find what it was about last week that made my joint pain diminish. It must be possible. But more importantly, I need to remember the key ingredients to that spiritual health we all experienced and surround myself with it every day.
Even when it is 112 and I’m stuck in traffic....
Then, while I was in the mountains last week I realized halfway through the week that my familiar friend was missing. My hands might have been slightly stiff but there was no pain. It was so strange. And then after one night in the valley, I woke up in pain again.
Why did it go away? Why did it come back? Was it the altitude? (If the Lord is telling me to move to the mountains, I’m all over that...) was it all the water I was constantly drinking (which seems to elude me here in the air conditioning..)? Was it the miles and miles of walking I did?
I was thinking this morning how we often have “mountaintop experiences” where we get to go away to a place like this camp, be surrounded by the Lord’s beautiful creation, biblical teaching and uplifting music. We get to shed the pain of the world. We get to live apart from it and forget it for a time.
And how easy it is to land back “on earth” and be sucked back into the world, the worries, the temptations. Why do I need to worry about this thing today that didn’t even cross my mind last week? Why am I reminded of this pain in my soul when I was able to be free from it for 6 days?
My goal is to find what it was about last week that made my joint pain diminish. It must be possible. But more importantly, I need to remember the key ingredients to that spiritual health we all experienced and surround myself with it every day.
Even when it is 112 and I’m stuck in traffic....
Saturday, June 23, 2007
What Did You Learn Today?
We spent last week at children’s camp. I surprised myself on Thursday evening during the worship time. This is what I learned.
I first met this boy on Sunday night, the first night of camp when he and two of his friends decided, against camp rules and when he should have been elsewhere, to try and “scare” the girls by lying in the meadow and suddenly turning on their flashlights. Another counselor and I chased them out of there saying – do you WANT to lie down on a snake?? So, this child and I started out with a bad first impression. Turns out he was in the Bible study group I attended with my son, so I had more exposure to him. His behavior was irritating at best and after a time, I found myself truly bothered by him and one of his friends. I heard later that his counselor in his cabin was having a lot of trouble with him and it just made my feelings toward him even worse. Then, one morning, while we were at Bible study, the leaders split the boys into three groups and they asked me if I would take one group and lead them through some questions.
While I was going through the questions with them about Noah, this child asked me if God was going to flood the earth. When I explained that this had already happened, some of the boys started talking about the end of the world. He was very interested in “the end” of the story and wanted to know everything that happened in Revelation. One of his friends was a strong Christian, I could tell, and he and I started talking to him about some of the end times but more importantly why we had to be ready in our relationship with the Lord. Over the next three days, he kept asking more and more questions about how to be saved and what he should say and how and what would the end of the world be like. He was so hungry.
And without even knowing, without even really noticing, I found myself loving this boy, this unruly, rude, boy covered in dirt. I found myself burdened for him and I realized quite suddenly that I was seeing him the way Jesus sees him. There I sat Thursday evening nearly weeping for him and praying that the Lord would draw him near. I found myself chuckling a little bit at myself. What did I learn? That I look like that dirty unruly little child, too, when my Savior sees me. And he loves me anyway. I learned that I don’t deserve to see anyone with my own proud eyes. And I pray I never do.
I love you, Nick, wherever you are and I promise to keep you in my prayers.
I first met this boy on Sunday night, the first night of camp when he and two of his friends decided, against camp rules and when he should have been elsewhere, to try and “scare” the girls by lying in the meadow and suddenly turning on their flashlights. Another counselor and I chased them out of there saying – do you WANT to lie down on a snake?? So, this child and I started out with a bad first impression. Turns out he was in the Bible study group I attended with my son, so I had more exposure to him. His behavior was irritating at best and after a time, I found myself truly bothered by him and one of his friends. I heard later that his counselor in his cabin was having a lot of trouble with him and it just made my feelings toward him even worse. Then, one morning, while we were at Bible study, the leaders split the boys into three groups and they asked me if I would take one group and lead them through some questions.
While I was going through the questions with them about Noah, this child asked me if God was going to flood the earth. When I explained that this had already happened, some of the boys started talking about the end of the world. He was very interested in “the end” of the story and wanted to know everything that happened in Revelation. One of his friends was a strong Christian, I could tell, and he and I started talking to him about some of the end times but more importantly why we had to be ready in our relationship with the Lord. Over the next three days, he kept asking more and more questions about how to be saved and what he should say and how and what would the end of the world be like. He was so hungry.
And without even knowing, without even really noticing, I found myself loving this boy, this unruly, rude, boy covered in dirt. I found myself burdened for him and I realized quite suddenly that I was seeing him the way Jesus sees him. There I sat Thursday evening nearly weeping for him and praying that the Lord would draw him near. I found myself chuckling a little bit at myself. What did I learn? That I look like that dirty unruly little child, too, when my Savior sees me. And he loves me anyway. I learned that I don’t deserve to see anyone with my own proud eyes. And I pray I never do.
I love you, Nick, wherever you are and I promise to keep you in my prayers.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Are You Old?
So, yesterday, my husband e-mails me and informs me (with much glee in his typing – I could tell) that I will be 40 in exactly one month. The glee comes from his having turned 40 almost a month ago, you understand.
I have never cared much about my birthdays in the past. Other than the normal expecting-the-entire-world-to-celebrate-national-holiday-style-everything’s-about-me type of thing, I mean. But I never did care that I was getting “older”. My first child came a month after I turned 30 so that was exciting and I didn’t even *think* about the big 3-0.
And now I’m faced with 40. Is this the halfway mark? A friend recently told me he was growing a new beard for his 3/4 life crisis. I guess we all face age differently. Does this mean I am officially a “grown up”? When is it that you attain adulthood? When you live on your own? When you take responsibility for yourself? When you take responsibility for your children? When you take responsibility for your own parents?
Perhaps tearing out your kitchen and rebuilding it with your own hands is some rite of passage into the second half of life...
There are days when I just can’t believe that 40 years have passed. What have I done with all this time? Have I done enough? Have I done the right things? Are the wrong things going to haunt me?
Do I feel old? Some of you reading this will laugh at me because you have been here, on the cusp of 40. Just like I chuckle (well, bitterly complain, really) at people who are shocked that they are turning 20. But I’ve always been the baby of the family, and now I’m no longer a baby... I can’t even pretend. And my daughter has taken my place (happily, I might add).
So, yes, in some ways I feel old, literally like I have rounded the top of a hill (go ahead and make the jokes, black balloons and all) and behind me is my childhood, my youth, my foolishness, the ideas I thought would be the answers to everything. My old dreams that look foreign to me now. But ahead of me, I do not see the expected decline and diminishment. There in front of me I see the path, the continuation of the winding, surprising path on which the Lord has always been leading me. It’s familiar now and I expect the unexpected. Perhaps the pain and fear of my 31st year has taught me to not be afraid of what lies ahead. The Lord remains faithful and I feel more useful to Him now than I ever have. What I understand now that I did not understand at 30 is that there is still more of my foolishness ahead, the dreams I have today may change and change again and most importantly, that there is still time, as I allow Him, for God to mold me into who He intends me to be.
I have never cared much about my birthdays in the past. Other than the normal expecting-the-entire-world-to-celebrate-national-holiday-style-everything’s-about-me type of thing, I mean. But I never did care that I was getting “older”. My first child came a month after I turned 30 so that was exciting and I didn’t even *think* about the big 3-0.
And now I’m faced with 40. Is this the halfway mark? A friend recently told me he was growing a new beard for his 3/4 life crisis. I guess we all face age differently. Does this mean I am officially a “grown up”? When is it that you attain adulthood? When you live on your own? When you take responsibility for yourself? When you take responsibility for your children? When you take responsibility for your own parents?
Perhaps tearing out your kitchen and rebuilding it with your own hands is some rite of passage into the second half of life...
There are days when I just can’t believe that 40 years have passed. What have I done with all this time? Have I done enough? Have I done the right things? Are the wrong things going to haunt me?
Do I feel old? Some of you reading this will laugh at me because you have been here, on the cusp of 40. Just like I chuckle (well, bitterly complain, really) at people who are shocked that they are turning 20. But I’ve always been the baby of the family, and now I’m no longer a baby... I can’t even pretend. And my daughter has taken my place (happily, I might add).
So, yes, in some ways I feel old, literally like I have rounded the top of a hill (go ahead and make the jokes, black balloons and all) and behind me is my childhood, my youth, my foolishness, the ideas I thought would be the answers to everything. My old dreams that look foreign to me now. But ahead of me, I do not see the expected decline and diminishment. There in front of me I see the path, the continuation of the winding, surprising path on which the Lord has always been leading me. It’s familiar now and I expect the unexpected. Perhaps the pain and fear of my 31st year has taught me to not be afraid of what lies ahead. The Lord remains faithful and I feel more useful to Him now than I ever have. What I understand now that I did not understand at 30 is that there is still more of my foolishness ahead, the dreams I have today may change and change again and most importantly, that there is still time, as I allow Him, for God to mold me into who He intends me to be.
Friday, June 15, 2007
What Are You Afraid Of?
June 14, 2007
I am afraid of my children suffering. I don’t mean like getting a shot at the doctor (or brain surgery...) or crying because they can’t have a toy.
I saw a movie once about a war torn country and in one street scene there were bombs going off and people running everywhere and the camera closes in on a cart that has overturned and there sits a small child, covering his ears and screaming.
That kind of suffering.
I am afraid of not being able to meet their children and see what interesting little people they might be. The Christmas before my grandmother died, she held Eli in her lap and took hold of his foot and asked “Where will these feet go?” I hope I get to ask the same question.
I am afraid of pitch black dark rooms. I just can’t seem to walk in.
I am afraid of scorpions. I had a dream once... you don’t want to know.
I usually like to say that I’m not afraid of anything. But, like all my fellow humans, thoughts wake me up at night or creep in at difficult times. I am glad, though, that my Father in Heaven is in control of all these things or these fears might overtake me. Might paralyze me. When I give them away, He gladly takes them.
Do I think that these scary things (or worse) might actually happen one day? Maybe. Well, except that crazy scorpion dream because, if there were that many scorpions in one room, all the scientists would be there with me, I think.... But what comforts me is that I know that the Lord will give my children their own measure of peace during their suffering as He has during my own. What is true today will be true tomorrow.
Praise be.
I am afraid of my children suffering. I don’t mean like getting a shot at the doctor (or brain surgery...) or crying because they can’t have a toy.
I saw a movie once about a war torn country and in one street scene there were bombs going off and people running everywhere and the camera closes in on a cart that has overturned and there sits a small child, covering his ears and screaming.
That kind of suffering.
I am afraid of not being able to meet their children and see what interesting little people they might be. The Christmas before my grandmother died, she held Eli in her lap and took hold of his foot and asked “Where will these feet go?” I hope I get to ask the same question.
I am afraid of pitch black dark rooms. I just can’t seem to walk in.
I am afraid of scorpions. I had a dream once... you don’t want to know.
I usually like to say that I’m not afraid of anything. But, like all my fellow humans, thoughts wake me up at night or creep in at difficult times. I am glad, though, that my Father in Heaven is in control of all these things or these fears might overtake me. Might paralyze me. When I give them away, He gladly takes them.
Do I think that these scary things (or worse) might actually happen one day? Maybe. Well, except that crazy scorpion dream because, if there were that many scorpions in one room, all the scientists would be there with me, I think.... But what comforts me is that I know that the Lord will give my children their own measure of peace during their suffering as He has during my own. What is true today will be true tomorrow.
Praise be.
What Do You Love?
June 12, 2007
I love walking past a pine tree growing out of place in the city. I love the way its scent rises off the ground as the fallen needles heat up. Just for one second as I walk by, I’m transported to my favorite place in the world. I’m reminded of how the Bible says we are not citizens of this world. I can understand that when I walk in Tempe and “live” in the mountains.
I love the cacophony of birds in the morning. Today as I walked beneath them, I wondered if God created them just so he could hear that beautiful sound every morning. I know “science” tells us why they sing, but I know they are praising their creator, just thanking him for a new day. Oh, and get off my branch!
I love the laughter of my children. More specifically, Hannah has a laugh that is reserved for her brother. It’s a giggle and a guffaw and a belly laugh all rolled into one and it is only heard when he is doing something funny just for her. I love the sound but I love what it represents. I know that it means there is love there. Just between the two of them. Neither of them seems to hold a grudge or even remembers the wrongs of yesterday. There is always a new day, always a new game to be invented, a new galaxy to be explored where Lego ships are real and plastic light sabers can defend you.
And what is better than the sight of a giant saguaro, with its happy arms raised to heaven, wearing a funny red flowered hat, holding birds in each hand?
I love walking past a pine tree growing out of place in the city. I love the way its scent rises off the ground as the fallen needles heat up. Just for one second as I walk by, I’m transported to my favorite place in the world. I’m reminded of how the Bible says we are not citizens of this world. I can understand that when I walk in Tempe and “live” in the mountains.
I love the cacophony of birds in the morning. Today as I walked beneath them, I wondered if God created them just so he could hear that beautiful sound every morning. I know “science” tells us why they sing, but I know they are praising their creator, just thanking him for a new day. Oh, and get off my branch!
I love the laughter of my children. More specifically, Hannah has a laugh that is reserved for her brother. It’s a giggle and a guffaw and a belly laugh all rolled into one and it is only heard when he is doing something funny just for her. I love the sound but I love what it represents. I know that it means there is love there. Just between the two of them. Neither of them seems to hold a grudge or even remembers the wrongs of yesterday. There is always a new day, always a new game to be invented, a new galaxy to be explored where Lego ships are real and plastic light sabers can defend you.
And what is better than the sight of a giant saguaro, with its happy arms raised to heaven, wearing a funny red flowered hat, holding birds in each hand?
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