Say I Won't!

These days have been hard. Some days have been so painful, Mom had to cancel school and stay in bed. I've walked through my house leaning on doors and walls to get from point A to point B. But I'm still singing! Some people ask, "How?" or "Why?". I mean, when things are this hard and all I want to do is cry, how can I still stand strong? Why is it that I don't give in and just wallow in the pain and misery? First, let me share a song with you. This one speaks heavily to me. Rebel that I am in my heart of hearts, this song sings to my soul!

Even on a good day, I'm struggling to keep the pain at bay. But on my worst days, I'm reminded that I am NOT alone. Every painful step of the way, I'm leaning on the arm of Jesus. According to doctors, I may be walking on borrowed time. No. I'm walking on God's timing. As long as walking is required to do what He has placed in front of me, I will keep on. And when my legs are no longer needed, I will ride that wheelchair to His glory. 

Through all of this, I have a choice. Accept my defeat and give up hope. OR! There is always an or. Or I can rejoice that these legs are still moving at all. Accept that there is still a purpose for me. And be thankful for the time I have had until it ends! Here's another one for you.

These are revolutionary thoughts that most people can't seem to understand until they truly walk a day in the shoes of opened eyes and hearts. But the more you praise God for His faithfulness, the more you find yourself in joy. The more you see the good through the bad. That glorious silver lining! 

That is where I am. Being thankful. Accepting the calling. And praising God for the wonderful ways He has been working in our lives. From the mountain top views, through those dark and shadowy valleys - I'm gonna keep looking forward. Just Say I Won't!

Lost Photos of a Great Memory

If you are like me, you probably have a hard drive full of digital photos and then printed photos in a box. Ever since my first camera, I have loved taking pictures. Of people. Of places. Of things that I've seen. Some are so random. The best ones are of people when they weren't even looking my way. And sometimes, I even forget about photos. So stumbling on them again is like a flood of memories coming back.

But there were some priceless ones that I recently found. From our trip to Israel. We had asked another member of the tour group to use my camera and capture the moments of my husband and I being baptized in the Jordan River! 

Why was this such a big deal for us? 

My husband and I were baptized in our younger years. I, in the Presbyterian church. My husband, in his childhood, at a Baptist church. Neither of us making a conscious choice, but rather doing what our parents expected of us.

Personally, as I became an adult who was getting back into the Bible and really dedicating myself to the Lord, I came to realize that I needed to be truly baptized. To show that I really had given over to God and was ready to live the way He called me to. But when I came to this choice, we were not in a church that we called Home. And baptisms were not frequently offered. So I kept waiting. 

When were signing up to go to Israel, they offered us the chance to have the pastor that led the church group we went with, to baptize us. In the Jordan River. In Israel! My husband and I both jumped at the chance. First off, it was Pastor Ed Taylor of the Calvary in Aurora, Colorado! He had been the pastor we listened to at home. His church was the one where my husband rededicated himself to the Lord and we called that church our Home away from home. So that was an honor for us both. But even more so, was that we could be baptized in the Holy Land. What an amazing memory to make. For me, to make it with the man I loved, was the best part of all! We decided then and there, that this was where we would really and truly live like Christians are called to. No more halfhearted efforts. 

So having these photos, reminds us of that decision. 

What was it like? 

Cold. And dirty. 

You know that story of the Syrian, Naaman, coming to Elisha and asking to be healed of his leprosy? Elisha told him to go wash in the Jordan River. Naaman was furious! (2 Kings 5:1-14) Want to know why? That is the nastiest water! Smells bad. Your feet squish in slimy mud (even with my water shoes). There were what felt like rocks and sticks as well. And when we went in March, that water was freezing cold! I was glad it was so quick. I was shivering, with teeth chattering by the time I climbed out. The two pastors (father and son), had to wear wet suits to stay warm enough to get through all of us who chose to be baptized.

We were asked why we were doing this. For us both, it was to say with a deliberate mind that we wanted to do this. That we made the choice for ourselves. And that we were proud to have decided this. 

To say that I was nervous would be an understatement. First off, I felt very exposed. Secondly, I'm a bigger woman about to be dunked by a pretty thin guy. I was kinda worried he would lose his grip and it would be an ugly sight of me trying to regain my footing and come back up. And lastly, I did NOT want this water going up my nose! I was almost holding my breath the entire time we prayed before the dunking.

Is it strange that I worried I'd throw his back out? Thankfully, I didn't. Thankfully, he kept hold. Thankfully, it was a smooth journey back upright. And praise God, I've announced in this small way, I'm His child! And I will live like one to the best of my ability through His grace and mercy.

We can rejoice. Not because getting dunked makes us saved. Not because it changed us physically, emotionally or maybe even changed us spiritually. But because this reminds us to be accountable.

If you haven't, I highly recommend you give your life to God. If you have, but haven't been baptized, maybe you should consider it. It is a symbol of going under as a sinner, and coming up washed clean. Then live it out!

Keeping the Faith or Finding the Faith Repeatedly?

Friday night comes around. For most, it is a celebration. The end of another work week. A chance to unwind. For me, it is just another night. Another day done. Only change for me would be that the next two days will not include schooling the kids or two nights of making lunch for my husband to take to work the next day. For the past several weekends, I keep forgetting that nothing is happening of notable exception. I let myself think of hopeful plans before reality kicks in. Then it hits me and I hate my mind for being ridiculous. 

Christmas is coming and instead of being thrilled, I've actually just wanted it to be over. I had thought the Grinch in me had dissipated. I was wrong. I'm starting to be glad we are planning to do it at home with just us. Less stress of how I'm going to get through it. 

So why? Why would I feel like this? Why am I going through these notions? Well, I'm finding it hard to keep the faith right now.

I wish I could say that I'm always "keeping the faith". That I always believe everything is going great. That I never worry. But that just isn't so. A friend asked me how I keep the faith. At the time I told him, that I remind myself that this isn't it for me. This life isn't all there is for me to look forward to. But as time went on from that conversation, I thought over it again and again. And again. 

The truth is, I don't "keep the faith". I continually have to renew it. I have to choose my faith over the doubts and fears that constantly plague my mind. It is never as smooth-sailing as some make it look. I've heard pastors say that as Christians, we are to shine a hopeful light at all times because we don't know who is watching and we want to remind them that hope is out there. And they would be right. In our hardest times, we are to exude the ever flowing knowledge that God is greater than our troubles. However, I'm human. And I'm honest. So I'll admit it. Life isn't roses just because I chose to follow Christ. Because I believed in Him. I have trials and troubles just like anyone else. But I keep reminding myself that He is in control. That my worries are just that. Pitiful worries. This life isn't the end all. After all, read Romans 5:3-4. This is progressive towards something much greater.

The snowball starts

Things happen though.

Last month a chain reaction set off in me. It started just as my parents left and my husband came down with a dreaded virus. I was so thankful they didn't get sick! But I was also worried about my husband. One by one, the rest of us, save one, had symptoms of the illness. I was comforted by the fact that God allowed one of my kids to avoid getting sick while the youngest had a mild sore throat only. Through it all, I could see God's hand. That week, each day went by in a bit of a blur. I was so sick, I wanted to stay curled up in bed and cry. Sickness carries a secondary reaction in this broken body of mine. Every nerve and joint hurts when I get under the weather. But as I told my husband, Mom can't stay in bed. She has cooking. She has kids. Life goes on. I prayed daily. For healing. For strength. Just to do a little more. And before I knew it, Friday had arrived. My husband was finally better and able to get at least one shift in for the whole week. Talk about a tiny paycheck though! And I have a family of 6 to make sure is fed. But God got us through that trial too. Did I freak out? Better believe I did!

Next week comes along. We are back to school. We are back on track. I carefully plotted out meals and we skimmed through with the basics. My husband started driving to a new site. It is an hour one way. So gas bill was a little higher. But it was all going to be okay. Right? His paycheck came through. Only a third of what we had planned on. Turned out the medical insurance double billed to get us for a backdated start on his benefits. I started seething. Who were they to pull this crap without notice?? But no. Back to believing that God's got this. I slipped up in my faith, but the truth is there. It's all going to be okay! 

Week three was now over. And guess what we find? Check 3 is also cut down to maybe a third of what he should have taken home. Again with the insurance. So I sit here thinking, why bother caring anymore? This is life and it will be whatever it will be. We just have to keep skating through one task after another.

Life keeps on going

I wish I could say that I took this like a rolling punch. But it was more like a doubled over one. I wish I could say I had no frustration ripping through me. But I did. I'm a planner. I have Christmas to prepare for. I had projects I wanted to work on and places to check out. We moved to this new town and I want to know more about it! I'm a problem solver. But I feel as though there are too many problems weighing me down lately. At the end of the day. I sit back and say, Nothing more I can do. Just gotta make the best no matter what happens. 

But that doesn't keep my anger down completely. That doesn't give me 100% unfailing confidence that everything will continue without a hitch. That we will prevail. 

Instead it has me doing some serious searching. Questioning what is wrong with me. There has to be something wrong with me. I'm the only one having a problem right now. Kids have their moments. After being shut up at home with just each other and me, they get tired of the Monday - Friday grind too. Thankfully, they cheer up during the weekend. Saturday means there is a chance we will go to the library or grocery store. Sunday means church. And that all adds up to an escape. Not so much for me. I seem to want more out of the weekend.

One past weekend didn't have either of those happening. And that dark cloud rolled over me that I just couldn't seem to shake. I didn't even want to try. I just kinda shut down. Answering questions directed at me and otherwise silently went through the daily tasks lined up. I came to a realization. I have an adventurous spirit. I like exploring. Seeing new places. Heck, I even have moments where I think I might enjoy meeting new people and making friends. Not so often these days, but occasionally. Turns out, that is what is wrong with me! I'm physically broken, but my mind hasn't slowed down to join it. And even when I'm physically active, I'm married to a guy that is a home body. He is so tired of driving all week, that even if we have money and/or time he doesn't want to leave home. And even if I'm dying to go out, I can't bring myself to ask that of him. Besides, 3/4 of my kids don't like being away from home for long. My boys would rather sit in the game room, playing or watching their dad play. The youngest gets tired of walking and starts whining about going home, which frustrates me to the point of being done with whatever I'm attempting to enjoy. 

I had hoped that our Thanksgiving Day weekend trip to my in-laws would be a shining reprieve. But the night before our trip, my husband and daughters started showing symptoms of sickness. It blew up suddenly. We got up before the sun the next morning and almost didn't make the trip at all. Let's just say our trip wasn't as glowing as we had hoped. Not quite nightmare stage, but got pretty close. My husband had an asthma attack that scared me. I'd never seen that happen before. He is always so careful with his asthma. And we all came down with symptoms that required around the clock medications.

A choice has to be made

I really don't know how I'm supposed to rectify this character trait in me. But I know it brings me to a choice. The same choice has to be made, over and over again. I can choose to stay in the dark cloud or I can choose to find joy. I can find my faith again. Tell myself that everything is going to get better. That everything is alright. Sometimes it starts as one choice, but later I turn the other way. Sometimes it requires me to accept what I can't change quietly. Sometimes I have to stop myself from getting my hopes up again or having higher expectations on anyone or anything else in my life. Only one has never disappointed me - God. So yes, I have to keep the faith. More accurately, I have to keep renewing it. It doesn't come naturally to all of us. It is an effort that has to be taken. With or without a prior struggle. I remind myself that though I "will have troubles in this world", that I must "be of good cheer" for He has "overcome the world". 1 John 16:33

"I am that woman!" Another Part of Being In Israel

Sometimes we just can't help ourselves. We are presented with a situation or something is said that triggers our emotional responses. Often times, we react to our own emotions with shock or disgust. We feel that such an emotion should be locked away.

While in Israel, I had such a moment. A VERY poignant moment, at that. We were in Magdala. My pain was already making it difficult to listen to what was being said, to take in the sights, or to enjoy the day. It was raining lightly. It was cold. And I ached. My back. My neck. I just hurt so much. I was heavily relying on my cane that day. But even with it, I was struggling to keep my balance. My legs kept trying to give out on me. To collapse and never have to move again. What a thought! But I moved on with the group. Thankfully, I wore my hat. A ball cap, that when I looked down, hid my face. Or so I had hoped. We saw the ruins of the city that Mary Magdalene was from. As history has taught us, people used where they were from as a surname, not a family name like we do today. The ruins weren't much. A large, and rather fancy hotel overlooks them. They have a covered portion that protects some of it from the elements. Mostly lower parts of the walls, and then there were some mosaic flooring to be see. As well as what would have been a synagogue based on the types of stone "furniture" that was found. Like a type of podium. Of course, the Catholics are the ones who own it. And they do have the large cathedral built there too to honor some of the women that have attained higher status according to their religion. Mary Magdalene is one of them. I don't agree with much, if anything of the Catholic religion, so don't get butt hurt if I don't ooh and aah over their buildings. 

That being said, I was struck by one mural within that cathedral. Huge. Beautiful. And powerful. Done by a Peruvian artist. They told a story about it. Inspiration came from the story of the woman who was healed by just touching the hem of Jesus' garment as He passed by. (Matthew 9:18) How often have I heard that story from the Bible? How often had I heard the preachers mention her amazing faith? But you know what? I had never seen myself in her. Until now. 

That mural, spoke to my situation. Maybe it was because I was emotionally unbalanced from the high pain level I was experiencing. Maybe it was a visually stimulating picture that drew the lines connecting my dots with hers. I don't care what it was. I just know that as I stood there, I felt her pain. I KNOW her daily struggle. I feel it every single day. I hate that way I am because of a body that refuses to function properly. I have spent thousands of dollars trying to get a doctor to "fix" my physical ailments. All to be told, "Sorry, we can't do anything for you". Or "Learn to live with it". She had been through all of that. She was considered
"unclean" according to Jewish law. Unable to be touched by her family and friends. Unable to participate in any of the events. FOR YEARS! She would have been shoved to the side. Avoided like the plague. Touching her would make others "unclean" as well. How lonely she must have felt! No one to understand. Cursing her body for all the trouble it was causing, but unable to fix it. Then Jesus comes walking near. There are people crowding around Him. Everyone wants a piece of this 'prophet', 'healer' and maybe even the Messiah that was promised. He was on his way to heal a little girl that was dying. He was being rushed. But then "virtue" goes from Him. And being God in flesh, He knows it. He stops everyone to find her. To tell her that her faith had made her whole again.

I stood in front of this mural. Shaking. Crying. And praying. I kept my head down for the rest of the time we were there. I avoided talking to anyone. I don't like anyone being able to see that side of me outside my house. But, man! I was struggling! Her story is my story. Her pain and suffering is mine. And I can completely understand her faith. If Jesus walked today, you can bet I would seek to move mountains to grovel at His feet. I'd crawl around too, just to touch the hem of His garment and pray that that would be enough to heal me. 

You want something powerful? THAT is as powerful as it has ever been for me. That story grabs on and fills me with a feeling that I can't explain. And while I know I'm not likely to get that miracle, I am still hopeful for what comes next. For the freedom from pain and suffering that I am moving towards in heaven. The joy that will never desert me either. That is where I'm going.

Learning to Praise God Through the Storms

This post is for those who believe, but sometimes lose sight of what is important. As well as for those who think Christians are just a bunch of goody-goodies who can either do no wrong or when they do are hypocrites.

My husband has been doing a nightly Bible study with our children. He takes a book of the Bible and goes through, chapter by chapter and verse by verse. Explaining the stories within. And this recent one spoke to me as well. (Deuteronomy 7:6-24) It was of Moses, talking to the Israelites. Reminding them that they were God's chosen people. Yet, despite the miracles they witnessed, being freed from slavery in Egypt, protected from their enemies, and fed manna from heaven - they constantly complained. (Numbers 14:1-4 as one example) They forgot all those wonderful things and the meaning behind them. As a Christian, I do this too. I'm so happy when things are going well. But then something happens and the fear, worries, frustration - they all come flooding back. How easily I falter and forget!

We entered this year with high hopes. And indeed, have been greatly blessed. But no matter how many good times, there have been some dark times. Spots that tarnish the hopes we held so high. It is through these times that I'm realizing I need to be stronger in my faith. Because I'm human, I falter a lot. And I'm learning that God is still working on me with this.

We finally got that new SUV and started paying off debts this year. So far, we have paid half of what we owed on that SUV. We were on cloud nine because of that. Then, we had someone swipe the side and had to pay hundreds of dollars to get the doors replaced. I was so angry. But my husband patiently reminded me that we needed to praise God. No one was in it when it happened and insurance covered the largest part of it.

Then the corona virus pandemic hit. People panicked and the isolation from everyone, including family, became a blight on the horizon. Especially when we found out my gallbladder needed to come out. The rotten organ had been festering for somewhere near a year as far as I can gauge. Full of painful stones, it was beginning to block the bile duct. However, removing the gallbladder is considered an elective operation, that during the pandemic shut down, required approval from the Surgical Board at the hospital. Instead, they thought they would unblock the bile duct temporarily until restrictions were lifted, then remove the gallbladder at a safer time. Unfortunately, my body had other plans. The pains grew daily, tormenting me. But I kept telling my husband that now wasn't the time. Who would watch our 4 walking biohazards - aka our kids - when the fear of spreading the disease had everyone avoiding each other? No, I told him. I'll hold out as long as I can. But in the end, that wasn't very long. I was angry and frustrated. My husband reminded me that God works in ways we can't see. (Joshua 1:9, Deuteronomy 31:6)

Fast forward to today, and I've just reached 4 weeks since the surgery. My husband finally convinced me  to let go and trust that God had a plan. Thankfully, my in laws helped watched the kids while I was in surgery both times. My husband was able to take off to help. Then I had my follow up appointment via the phone. Based on my description of how I was feeling, I was asked to have blood drawn to check my white cell count and make sure I hadn't developed an infection. Here's the deal. I'm not normal, medically speaking. You can take my temperature and it won't read higher than 98.6. Never has. I had the chicken pox, Cat Scratch Fever, ear infections, strep, and then the worst - an unknown infection (that turned out to be a topical skin infection) embedded in the bone of my lower back. Through all of this, I never once registered as having a fever. Know what happens instead? I get chills. I feel like I'm freezing on the inside. My hands and feet feel cold to me. But when someone else touches me, I feel warm or hot to them. Not making this up, I've had doctors tell me I'm a freak of nature. To date - 3 of them to be exact. I remember each one vividly. I'm an anomaly. Runs in the family. It was 79º on a recent afternoon, and I was laying wrapped in microfiber blankets, wearing fuzzy winter socks and laying on a heating pad. Shivering. That's what my husband calls a fever. It's what I call a total waste of my time. I'm MOM. I don't have time to feel illness or pains. Here is the frustration. Again.

Time to be reminded. Again. I was so thankful that they approved the surgery. So thankful that we had the couple thousand dollars saved to pay for our part of it. So glad that my mother and sister in law were able to watch the kids. So how could I suddenly feel like a nervous wreck just because I might be experiencing a fever? Hasn't God been watching over us? He's gotten me this far after all. The answer is simple.

I'm human. A Christian human. Struggling to follow Christ, while fighting the flesh.

I falter in fear. Past experiences pulse bad memories of what could be through my mind. And those dark memories try to make me feel as though the worst is coming. It also didn't help that I finally found out what the doctor meant with her passing mention of a hernia. Turns out I had 2 surgeries done at once. I had an umbilical hernia. A hernia in my belly button. It's why it bulged all these years since my bilateral tubal I had after giving birth to my, now, 3 year old. So they made the incision to remove the gallbladder through the hernia. They tightened it and fixed it. Then removed my gallbladder and stitched everything back up. As part of the healing process, I have sharp, stabbing pains from time to time. Since I'm older, healing has been taking it's sweet time. I'm finding that surgery required me to move slower even when I was feeling good. I had trouble sleeping, because I couldn't sleep comfortably on my sides. And being on my back all night hurts. But in the end, I'm healthy. No infection. The incisions are healing. I'm me. Mostly.

God knew I had other medical issues. He knew I'm stubborn. Hardheaded. So He made sure I had no other choice. And I've been learning so much from it. I thought I was such a patient person before. Guess I needed a refresher in that course. I'm learning that I have to wait on others to help me. Lifting a pan of casserole from the oven had me resting in the recliner with an ice pack for a long while. Trying to lift my toddler to go potty had me hurting for a couple hours after. I can't be as independent as I wanted. I'm strong willed, but not strong bodied. Not anymore. And I needed to come to the acceptance of this.

All this has also worked on my thankfulness. I'm so thankful to have my husband. He has had to miss work, come running when I call out to him and even handle household things that fall under my jurisdiction. He has cooked for us. Done the laundry. Kept the kids from constantly coming to me when I needed to rest. All while trying to take an online course for a certification. I have never felt so blessed as I do now. We don't always have help. Especially during this pandemic season. It's mostly just us two, trying to make this work. I still have occasional pain and don't always sleep well. I cramp after meals because the digestion process is still learning to cope without the gallbladder. Some nights I really DO NOT want to cook. Heck, I don't even have much of an appetite anymore. I have already lost 4 pounds. Yay! But I know I can't just skip it. There are 4 ravenous mouths to feed. Okay 5, the husband needs to eat too.

The bottom line is, I'm being worked on in ways that I don't always understand. It is not easy being a believer. Quite the opposite. Faith has to be built. Trusting that there is a greater plan at work is not easy. And being thankful for the trials is completely contradictory. (James 1:2-4, 1 Peter 1:7) That's where God does His best work. So I encourage you all to trust in Him explicitly. All the while, remembering that you will falter. And haters are gonna hate on you when you do. But! He will grow our dependence on Him in ways that we couldn't possibly imagine!