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November Gratitude: Knowing & Being Known
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares. ~Henri Nouwen
About thirty-one years ago, two “old souls” met in early childhood, and the friendship was instantaneous. Monica has taught me much about finding beauty in the every day since then. Whether it was playing orphans in my backyard lying beneath the Dogwood tree, or traipsing through the golf course behind her house. Whether it was writing poetry and mailing it to each other for critiques or heading off to watch baseball games together. Whether it was crying or laughing or imagining or writing or fighting, we were always there, kindred spirits.
Knowing and being known by each other.
We share secrets from our childhood, memories of lazy days together growing up. We share a love for lilacs and poetry and all things lovely. We share a love of music and lyrics and words, of art and writing and journals. She is my go-to person for good books and good movies, and I trust her implicitly. She is a safe place to pour out my heart and she is not afraid to speak the truth in love to me. She has always reminded me to be gentle on my heart and pointed me to the Cross when I could only gaze at myself.
And she has taught me about the beauty of suffering.
She reminds me every day to live. To make it a great day. To wear today out. To focus on Christ, on holiness, on beauty. To be me, and to be happy in who God created me to be. Some days I look at her and I marvel at her beauty, intelligence, wisdom, and spirit. Her passion for truth and Christ and His glory. And I am grateful. So grateful. Because I truly think without her, I would have given up during my cancer battle and fallen into despair.
And now it is my turn. I am the one filling up her inbox and mailbox. I am the one reminding her that I’m here no matter what. That I know what it’s like when you have no strength to pick up the phone or write an email or pursue anything or anyone outside the realm of your suffering. That I am the one with no expectations. That I am her friend even if she can’t ever give me anything back. That we are strangers here and there is hope beyond what we experience in the trials of this life.
You see, those are all the same things she has said and done for me.
God knew.
God knew all those years ago how badly we would need each other then to walk through the fiery trials of today. And as we know and are known by each other, it is comforting that God knows us even more deeply.
There are no words to describe the gratitude today as I celebrate in my heart my dear Monica’s birthday. The emails are not enough: we are aching to be together today (It has been almost a year since we’ve seen each other–far too long). Thirty-one years ago we met as young girls, and time has only strengthened and blossomed our friendship. She roots me to the core, and I am always sure of her. So thankful for the gift of her life, her faith and her love.
She is my hero.
Happy birthday, my friend. I love you. Muchly.
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November Gratitude: Sight
This morning I woke up on the couch at 6:00. Yes, I slept there all night. No, Bri and I are not fighting. I fell asleep there while watching a movie with Bri and never woke up. So I climbed off the couch and tripped in the dark over furniture and slippers into the kitchen to begin my morning, my eyes screaming at me the entire time.
For those of you that don’t know, I have a double eye infection. The chemo caused chronic dry eye and it flares up upon occasion with tearing and running and redness. All the tearing gave me a pretty healthy infection in my eyes, and my left eye is the worst. By each evening, the pain is unbearable and not only does my eye ache and tear, my head roars.
I took my drops this morning, after which I am to keep my eyes closed for 2 minutes. So I sat quiet in my chair in the den. I heard the crackle of the fire and felt it’s warmth. I heard the pitter patter of rain on the roof. I heard the humming of the refrigerator. I heard cars drive by and Molly, our neighbor’s dog, bark outside. I heard my Bella-girl upstairs humming and playing.
I heard but I could not see, and I thought about what it would be like to be in this darkness constantly.
What would it be like to trip over furniture and slippers? What would it be like to hear the crackle of a fire and feel it’s heat but never see it’s deathly beauty? What would it be like to hear rain and the rustle of leaves, to feel the wetness and the crunch underfoot, but never see the glorious color of fall? What would it be like to pet a dog or ride in a car, but never see the excitement of a happy hound or drive a car on my own?
What would it be like to never see the face of my children? my husband? my parents? my friends?
And the tears from my infection turned to tears of gratitude for sight and for perspective.
Eyes to see all that God has given.
Eyes to see beauty and wonder and glory.
Eyes to see love.
And In reminding me of all there is to see, He also reminded me of faith:
The sight of my soul.
And it is a beautiful view.
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November Gratitude: Unknown Paths
The Road Goes Ever OnThe Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet.
And whither then? I cannot say.— J R R Tolkien
Thank you, Lord, that the path which lies unknown to me is known to You.
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November Gratitude: Freedom
Today I voted for the candidate and amendments that I believe are best for our state, for our nation. I know millions are doing this same thing all across America.
Far too often I take this freedom for granted. This freedom to walk into a voting booth without fear. This freedom to make my voice heard. Freedom to put pen to paper and fight for the rights of myself and others.
(I rarely make any political statement here. Partly because I am not well-versed in politics, and partly because that’s not really what my blog is all about. Partly because some people just like to argue, and politics often presents that open door. I’m just not up for that. Partly, because I’m proud, and I don’t want people to see my struggles to understand politics. Partly, because I’m fearful to put it out there knowing some people might not like what I have to say.)
But I will say this.
I’m thankful for freedom.
Freedom to choose.
Freedom to pray for our nation, our leaders.
Freedom to disagree with those leaders.
Freedom to say something if I choose.
Freedom to remain quiet if I choose.
Freedom to vote.
Because when I voted, I spoke.
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November Gratitude: Endings and Beginnings
“Cancer changes your life, often for the better. You learn what’s important, you learn to prioritize, and you learn not to waste your time. You tell people you love them. My friend Gilda Radner used to say, ‘If it wasn’t for the downside, having cancer would be the best thing and everyone would want it.’ That’s true. If it wasn’t for the downside.” (~Joel Siegel)
Yesterday was October 31st.
The last day of October.
All Hallow’s Eve.
And the final day of Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
My emotions and mind and heart are always a confused jumble this time of year. I look around and it’s as if the world threw up pink, and I am grateful for those who are seeking to find a cure, for those who are remembering and raising money and running races and memorializing and celebrating and grieving. I love this quest, this cause.
But I struggle, too. I struggle with those who would glorify it and romanticize it. I struggle with the trite mottoes and Facebook memes that sexualize and trivialize it. I struggle because it becomes so “in your face” that I wonder if it really gets in peoples’ hearts.
I struggle because I stand in line at Target and hear two guys behind me laughing and coarsely joking about how important it is to “save the ta-tas” for them, and I want to whip around and fiercely castigate them for just not getting it–this brutal disease that mars bodies and destroys people. I want to preach to them that it’s not about saving the ta-tas. It’s about saving the lives that belong to those ta-tas.
I struggle because breast cancer is not the only cancer out there. I have friends with lymphoma. I have friends who have survived kidney cancer and children’s cancers and Hodgkins and prostate cancer. I have friends who have lost parents and grandparents and siblings and friends to this disease. Where are their months? Who is remembering for them and walking for them and raising money for them?
I struggle.
But I also wear my pink ribbon proudly and I cry when friends write and say they’re wearing pink for me or dying pink stripes in their hair in my honor or wearing their “Save the Ta-Tas” tee-shirts. I value each token of remembrance and celebration.
Because while I may struggle with how things are done or brought about. It still all means something.
It means cancer is being fought.
Three years ago, my sister-in-law, Samantha, wrote this on her blog: “As we’re beginning a new month, we close out October: National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. During October, it’s hard to go anywhere without seeing pink. Grocery stores, department stores, even banks carry pink products to help raise awareness and research money. The news shows have segments covering many different aspects of breast cancer, from prevention to personal stories of survival… But now it is November and we have moved on to another worthy cause. For many people, breast cancer won’t come to mind again until next year or until you or someone you loved is diagnosed with the disease. For my family, that time is now… So as the months go on, I will continue October and continue remembering every woman (and man) who has had breast cancer. I encourage you to do the same.”
Yes. October and Breast Cancer Awareness Month is ending.
But November is beginning.
A month of Thanksgiving.
I find that very fitting.
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Autumn Fires
“There is a harmony
In autumn, and a lustre in its sky,
Which through the summer is not heard or seen,
As if it could not be, as if it had not been!”
– Percy Bysshe Shelley
(My greeting each eve as I gaze out my kitchen window) -
One Unbroken Gaze
Desperation. Frenzy. Anxiety. Melancholy. Darkness.
These are words that describe me these past weeks since my surgery. Even in the joyous news that all my pathology came back clear, there is an unsettled gloom that hangs. I know a large part of it is just the path of recovering, and crazy medications, and new medications my body must adjust to, and old medications that have become unbalanced, and a body that has been hacked into and anesthetized once again.
But I also know a large part of it is because I am fixing my eyes here.
I am only seeing the pile of bills and the dwindling accounts. I am only seeing the thermometers rise as flus invade my children and husband and infection invades my own body. I am only seeing chaos and mess around me as I can’t keep up my home. I am only seeing the empty frozen pizza boxes and agonizing over the unhealthy foods I’m feeding my family on days when I’m too tired to cook. I am only seeing the lack of time I have with my husband and the ways he fails me. I am only seeing the grief and pain in the lives of those I love.
Yes. I am a narcissist. I am only seeing me and how it all affects me.
And in the midst of it all, my primal cry emerges.
I only want to see Him!
Desperation. Frenzy. Anxiety. Melancholy. Darkness.
They all push me to one place.
LONGING.
My joy cannot come from all the whirl and swirl of my circumstances. It cannot come from what is happening around me.
It can only come from the One Who lives in me.
This song, Captivated, by Vicky Beeching, says it all. I have listened to it over and over these past weeks, turning it into a prayer as I go about my days.
LONGING.
For one unbroken gaze to see Him.
Instead of seeing the piles of bills and dwindling accounts, seeing the riches of a King Who has given me everything. Instead of seeing the thermometers rise as flus invade my children and husband, seeing the hand of a Healer Whose tender care reaches out to every sniffle. Instead of seeing chaos and mess around me, seeing the love of Christ through my mother who becomes my hands and helps me keep it all intact. Instead of seeing the unhealthy foods I’m feeding my family on days when I’m too tired to cook, seeing the Heavenly Provider Who knows all our need. Instead of seeing the ways my husband fails me, seeing the heart of my Heavenly Husband Who shows himself through my Brian (and trust me, I fail him far more than he fails me). Instead of only seeing the grief and pain in the lives of those I love, seeing the loving hand of a Father who will one day wipe away all their tears.
But beyond all of this.
To just see Him.
To see His beauty.
With an unbroken gaze.
Desperation. Frenzy. Anxiety. Melancholy. Darkness.
All part of living in this fallen world. My gaze will falter.
LONGING.
One day.
My gaze will be unbroken.
And longing turns into HOPE.
And hope will not disappoint.
Your laughter it echoes like a joyous thunder
Your whisper it warms me like a summer breeze
Your anger is fiercer than the sun in its splendour
You’re close and yet full of mystery
Ever since the day that I saw Your face
Try as I may, I cannot look away, I cannot look away…Captivated by You
I am captivated by You
May my life be one unbroken gaze
Fixed upon the beauty of Your faceBeholding is becoming, so as You fill my gaze
I become more like You and my heart is changed
Beholding is becoming, so as You fill my view
Transform me into the likeness of YouThis is what I ask, for all my days
That I may, never look away, never look away…
No other could ever be as beautiful
No other could ever steal my heart away
I just can’t look away…(Captivated, by Vicky Beeching, from her album Yesterday, Today & Forever)
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Everything… Including Wal-Mart
In our home, HATE is a four-letter-word. And any of you who know me well know how I feel about crude language and four-letter-words. I HATE them. (Yes, I realize I just used the word hate again.) And apparently I’ve taught my children it is okay to use the word “hate”. You know why? Because I say it about 200 times when I’m walking through Wal-Mart. Then they use it at home and I have to eat my words and repent of my hatred of that cursed place.
Honesty, y’all. I really dislike that store, and every time I go there I find my mood changes and I am an angry woman. So, you might ask, why do you go there? Because I haven’t found a way to remain within our budget for food and household items and NOT go there, so I do it and I grumble. I already spend way too much time researching deals and coupons and best places to get what… to the point that I question if I’m even being frugal with my time.
So, I walk through Wal-Mart, and if I’m having a “good” Wal-Mart experience (is that even possible?) I grumble under my breath, but some days it’s all out huffing and puffing over the disorganization, the lack of the food item I’m looking for, the poor lighting, the rude employees, etc. And then I hear my daughter singing this as loud as she can throughout the store:
“Dooooo EVerything without comPLAINing.
DOooooo EVerything without ARguing.
So that you may become PLAMEless and pure
Children of GOD. (ba dum bum bum)”You would think my first reaction would be to stop and think and listen to God’s Word. Instead I rise up with wanting to complain that God actually put that verse in the Bible, and then I complain that I taught it to my daughter, and then I complain that she started singing it in the store.
Then God’s Spirit speaks.
“Do everything without complaining.”
Everything.
I look at the shelves stocked with food items too numerous to count, and I think about our little Mario, our Compassion Child, who gets grapes for Christmas and thinks it’s a delicacy. I see clothing in every size and color and style, aisles upon aisles of shoes and I think of children in Africa who wear no shoes. There are bedding and blankets and towels galore, and I think of Appalachia or inner cities here in America where children have no blankets to warm them at night, some even sleeping on the streets.
And I shut my mouth.
I close my eyes.
I listen to God’s Word lisped from my daughter’s lips.
When I reopen them I still don’t like Wal-Mart. I never will.
But I view it differently.
And I open my mouth to sing with her.
I stop complaining and I start giving thanks.
God provides so much more than I need. We have a beautiful home with beds and blankets and food on the table and wood for the fire and a huge yard to run and play in. We have cars and schools and churches and Bibles.
We have no need.
Except for Him to open my eyes and change my heart to see Him.
And sometimes He even uses Wal-Mart to teach me.
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Another Danica Update
Are y’all ready for this?
Danica is HOME.
Well, she’s home from the hospital, but not in her home. Nine days after surgery and she was discharged. God is working healing in her little body, and she is doing fairly well. But even in this, there is hardship. Because of the architecture of their home and because of Danica being wheelchair bound for the next six weeks, Dan & Monica are living with Monica’s parents until Danica is out of her wheelchair. While I know Monica is supremely grateful for her parents and their love and help, I also know she wants to be in her own home with her own belongings and her own little family, and it is hard to let go.
Some of Monica’s most recent Facebook Updates:
–Danica just looked me straight in the eyes and said, “I don’t want to wear this anymore.”
–THIS is the hardest day of my life. The question of self pity and challenge of all I believe. We are at my parents. Long night ahead. Please pray.
—“I believe still today what I have always believed: that God is good, that the world he made is extraordinary, and that his comfort is like nothing else on earth.” S. Niequist
Monica has written some beautiful, painful and vulnerable posts on her blog that will update you more if you wish to read them.
And again, thank you for praying for my friends.
God is moving and saying, “Yes,” to those prayers.
I am humbled by your love for them.
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Encouragement for Moms
“Ministry means being “all there.” It means rejoicing that you get to show your children how to peddle a tricycle, make their bed, build good memories, and share their toys with others. You serve your family, and ultimately your heavenly Father, by helping your child do that puzzle for the seventeenth time, by washing those sticky fingers, by planting a little garden, by acting out Bible stories and praying together, and by preparing for their daddy’s return as the highlight of your day!”
Jani Ortland writes this beautiful post about our role in mothering first: Ministry, Guilt and Mothering. I found so much encouragement and freedom in it as I focus on my primary ministry: my family. I hope it does the same for you.
“Are you discouraged as you spend day after day immersed in the mundane tasks of mothering? Then think of the honor of guiding the spiritual and intellectual and social development of young minds and hearts. Think of the thrill of teaching them eternal truths from God’s Word. Think of the importance of teaching your young children how to live under authority, and of preparing them for future relationships by teaching them about love and trust. Think of the delight of sending one more godly, vibrant, strong, secure, loving young person into this needy world with the courage to live well for Christ’s sake. What a worthy investment!”
(To read the whole post, click here or on the blue highlighted above.)
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A Spring of Joy 