Perspective & Gratitude…

It’s amazing how an unexpected trip to the emergency room and stay in the hospital can provide a new perspective on things. After two intestinal surgeries to remediate the effects of his Crohn’s Disease, my husband is finally beginning to heal, and we are grateful.

One of the biggest things I’ve learned is that marriage worked–we truly are one. As my husband has bravely suffered countless procedures, pokings and proddings, two operations, the night of the drug-induced coma between them, the intense sleepless days in the ICU after, and the indignity of the ileostomy bag he’ll need for several more months, I have felt at least a small share of his pain in it all. Every time I have to leave him or be separated from him or watch them stick something else into him, I physically feel the pain of it and my heart breaks for him. Often it feels as though I’m leaving a part of myself behind. Despite the difficulty of all of this, we know that God is making us stronger and more united, increasing our love for one another day by day. Mikael is loved by all the nurses and providers here for his positive attitude and the way he thanks them for everything they do, even those that are painful or uncomfortable. I come to admire my Mikael more every day too.

Each one of those experiences that’s been hard or humbling or uncomfortable we’re doing our best to bless, knowing that when you bless something it loses its power to hurt you. So we bless the N/G tube in his nose that made him gag and prevented him from turning his head. I bless the nurses that see him naked and get irritated with my questions or requests (though overall, they’ve been wonderful!). We bless each thing as an instrument of God’s healing and growing work in our lives.

We’re learning to give thanks for each small miracle, and we’ve had a lot this week! We got to leave the ICU and get onto a regular ward floor, enabling Mikael to get some better rest. We’ve had good visits from family and friends and feel love and support from those who are far away. Mikael got his N/G tube out and can move his head freely! On other days he got his catheter out, an IV taken out of his left hand, and one out of his right hand. Yesterday, they took off his wound covering and the wound-vac pump that went with it. Then, the miracle of all miracles, I got the first hug I’d had in almost a week because he was free enough of tubes to make it possible!

Mikael’s making some physical strides of progress. He was able to walk all the way down the ward hallway and sit outside on the patio and I don’t think we’ve ever been so grateful to look out at the I-225 traffic on a cloudy day and feel the breeze :). Yesterday, Mikael got his first bite of real food in twelve days and began to weep it tasted so good. Today, he had his first shower in six days and it left him speechless. Both of us may sleep an hour or ninety minutes at a time here at night, but we’re just so thankful to get that much, and that we can be together, and that he’s okay.

We know that our Father is good and that we have never been out of His care. That’s definitely been proven to us by having so many beautiful loved ones in our lives! As well as we may know them, we’re learning again the words of Paul by heart, “Rejoice always; pray without ceasing. In everything, give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus” (I Thessalonians 5:16-18). My favorite author Wendell Berry said it well too, “What we must do is this: ‘Love always, pray continually, in everything give thanks.’ I’m not all the way capable of it, but I know those are the right instructions.” These events that have interrupted the normal events of our life also serve as an invitation to draw even more near to God’s heart–gratitude is one of our paths and we have chosen to take it.

“DO IT AGAIN…”

Though my family didn’t move to Colorado until I turned eight, having lived here thirty years this year, I consider myself very much a Colorado girl. Filled with more Fourteeners than any other state, Colorado’s high desert tundra, crystal mountain lakes, majestic sunrises and sunsets, alpenglow, and mystical mountains have “filled up my senses” countless times.

 

I’ve often wondered what it is about mountains that’s so captivating. They’re definitely a solid, seemingly immovable presence. They remind us there’s something and someone greater than us, greater than the obstacles we face each day. They invite and beckon to adventure, exploration, and challenge. They call us to see new beauty and summit the heights. And yet, as solid and unchanging as the mountains seem, Jesus tell us we can move them. “…Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you” (Matthew 17:20, NIV).

 

There are a few seasons of life that have been marked journeys of faith for me, times when God called me to believe something that seemed virtually impossible at the time. It required a long wait, a lot of growth, and an attitude of expectancy as I navigated the valleys and summited the peaks. Sometimes, the hoped-for result came. Sometimes not. Most often, the answer looked quite different than I anticipated. But always, always, God proved Himself faithful, and the greatest reward came from His presence on the journey. In reality, it wasn’t my faith that moved mountains. My Father God worked on my behalf to move them for me as I depended on Him.

 

Several things have shifted in my circumstances lately, or burst, perhaps, is a better word. So now, here I am, once again in another season of absolute need, desperate for my God to move. As many times as God’s done the impossible and shown Himself strong in my life, still, it requires more faith for me to believe He’ll do it again. I continue to allow my fear to be bigger than my faith. But as song artist Rita Springer says, “I have to believe that He sees my darkness. I have to believe that He knows my pain…. For He said that He’s forever faithful. He said He’s forever true. He said He can move mountains. He can move my mountains; He can move your mountains too. I have to believe.” Faith simultaneously transforms us and sustains us. In Isaiah, hundreds of years before Jesus came, God assures us, “…I will not forget you. See, I have engraved you on the palms of my hands. Your walls…are ever before me” (Isaiah 49:16). What I face, He faces…He has engraved me on the palms of His hands. He has always been faithful…He will be again. “I believe Lord, help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24).

 

There’s a song by Elevation Worship that’s been speaking to my heart, “DO IT AGAIN.” The lyrics state:

 

“Walking around these walls

I thought by now they’d fall

But You have never failed me yet

Waiting for change to come

Knowing the battle’s won

For You have never failed me yet

 

Your promise still stands

Great is Your faithfulness, faithfulness

I’m still in Your hands

This is my confidence, You’ve never failed me yet

 

I know the night won’t last

Your Word will come to pass

My heart will sing Your praise again

Jesus, You’re still enough

Keep me within Your love

My heart will sing Your praise again

 

I’ve seen You move, come move the mountains

And I believe, I’ll see You do it again

You made a way, where there was no way

And I believe, I’ll see You do it again…”

 

Indeed. I have seen Him move mountains. And I do believe. I will see Him do it again. He has made a way where there was no way. Let’s believe we’ll see Him do it again.

Stepping Up…

After almost nine years with chronic illness and pain, I definitely have my days where I get discouraged. I’m beyond thankful I have a body that moves and can do most things for itself, but it takes hours of the day to keep it in that condition. Despite my best efforts to live in health, it often feels as if my body continues to fall apart. In II Corinthians 4:16-17, the Bible says this is no surprise! “…Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, yet our inner self is being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary affliction is producing for us an eternal glory that is far beyond comparison.…” I love that this passage, full of the seemingly distressing news that our bodies are indeed wasting away, begins with, and “…Therefore, we do not lose heart.” This is also the chapter that tells us, “…but we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us” (II Corinthians 4:7).

 

Author Roy Lessin writes, “Everything in this world is moving in a downward direction–our bodies are a little older than they were yesterday; the parts in our cars have more wear than they had yesterday; even the earth is aging like a worn garment. In God’s kingdom, things are just the opposite for us. Everything moves in an upward direction-we go from faith to faith, from glory to glory, & from strength to strength. Our characters are being conformed to the image of Jesus, our spiritual lives mature, our love for the Lord deepens, & He becomes more precious with time. Today you can confidently say, ‘It is well with my soul…& it will be even better tomorrow.’ ”

 

As we journey through this broken world with bodies and spirits that can often feel broken as well, may we be surrounded by the love of friends and family and a company of great hosts that aid us in our voyage.

“Calling All Angels”

by the Wailin’ Jennys

A Spacious Place…

Just now I’m listening to the song of wind chimes blowing in a gentle summer breeze outside my window. Curtains rustle as the light filters in. The dogs sleep in a mix of sun and shade under a tree where apples ripen in preparation for the autumn harvest. I sit at the table with the extraordinary gift before me of a peaceful, quiet time in which to read and reflect and write. As friends begin teaching children for a new school year, a blessing we once shared, I have a whiff of nostalgia, but breath a deep sigh of relief, for I know it had become too much for my fragile body.

 

A man walks his clomping horse up the dirt road where we live in this one-of-a-kind small mountain town. Though late August, the tundra on the hills has begun to change and the evenings are cooler. I settle into the weekday morning quiet of this world and feel deep gratitude for the season of rest I’ve been granted in this beautiful and spacious place. Studies completed, new paths opened and explored, more adventures and learning await and good work will need to be done. But for now, this day, I rest and give thanks.

 

Many times this was among the things only hoped for and imagined. That being said, it is important that I remember: my Father God and loving friends generously sacrificed and gave to share this with me. Both have been oh so sweet and faithful. As Psalm 18:16-19 proclaims, “He reached down from on high and took hold of me; He drew me out of deep waters. He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes, who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the LORD was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me because He delighted in me.”
As author Ann Voskamp states, the act of remembering re-members us, helping rejoin the broken pieces. A dear friend reminded me today: there have been miracles…. there will be miracles. It’s good to remember. The chimes sound as the winds stir a song of praise.  

Strong Hands, New Eyes…

Oscar Wilde once said, “It takes great courage to see the world in all its tainted glory, and still to love it.” This truth often strikes me, for, on a daily basis, I am amazed by the beauty and kindness and inspirational perseverance around me. On an equally frequent level, I am confronted with woundedness, ugliness, and hypocrisy. To hold the tension of this world’s  “tainted glory” well takes great balance and skill. Whatever and whoever there may be in my own path, I am quick to judge, to praise or condemn, to choose a personal response that has the potential to fall on either end of the spectrum.

 

Whether in line at the post office or the supermarket, driving, walking in the beautiful mountain town where I live, or working, I cross paths with many I choose to ignore. How many do I encounter every day who are longing to be seen or heard or helped in some way? Most often, I choose to believe that my schedule is too busy, my hands are too small and weak. I allow my eyes to cloud over and my mind to wander back to its self-preoccupation.

 

But what if my small hands are strong enough to offer a drink to the thirsty? What if doing so is the water my own soul needs? As David Foster Wallace says in his graduation speech entitled “This Is Water,” “Sometimes the hardest and most important realities are often the hardest to talk about.” In the petty frustrations of day-to-day living with narrow-sighted vision, it is only in choosing to look around with compassion that we find our own paths enlarged.

 

Just as  Jesus did, we are called, “…to preach good news to the poor…to bind up the brokenhearted…to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor…to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve…to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair” (Isaiah 61:1b-3a). God says that “…if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday” (Isaiah 58:10).

 

Spanish-speaking artists Marcela Gándara and Jesus Adrian Romero have a beautiful song entitled “Dame Tus Ojos” (“Give Me Your Eyes”). In the song, they ask God, “Give me your eyes I want to see. Give me your words, I want to speak.” The song is a petition to be filled with the Spirit of God in every step. As we become Christ’s body and His church, may we literally be His hands and feet, see with His eyes, love with His heart.

***Photo Credits: Brainy Quote

It Is Well…

The past two years of my life have seen more change than the previous ten altogether. After a long waiting season, through an unexpected breaking process, God moved in both difficult and incredible ways. He asked me to release a teaching career that had been my passion and security in adulthood. He moved me back home and placed a man in my life to love and to marry. Then, the same month of our marriage, my husband’s mother was diagnosed with stage four ovarian cancer. Within four months, she passed away. We left everything to come to Puerto Rico, see her before she passed, and manage her estate. Months later, we remain here, searching for a solution for a disabled family member she cared for.

 

The more answers we seek, the more doors close. One slight move on the board changes the whole game, perhaps for the rest of our lives. We pray for guidance, but the heavens remain silent. I believe my Father is attentively at work in ways I can’t see or understand. I trust His hand, but sometimes, the weight of the unknown feels like enough to press me into the ground and bury me there. In the midst of it all, I feel ushered into the eye of the storm where one call is certain, “Surrender.”

 

The earth quakes and the storms come, and yet…it is well with my soul. I’ve thought often of the old hymn of that title, written by Horatio Spafford after he lost his family in an ocean storm. “When peace, like a river, attendeth my way, When sorrows like sea billows roll; Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul.” Bethel Music artist Kristene DiMarco recently rewrote the song with words that pierce my soul. “So let my soul go and trust in Him. The waves and wind still know His name.”

 

It Is Well
Bethel Music (Written by Kristen DiMarco) 


Grander earth has quaked before
Moved by the sound of His voice
Seas that are shaken and stirred
Can be calmed and broken for my regard
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And through it all, through it all
It is well
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And it is well with me
And far be it from me to not believe
Even when my eyes can’t see
And this mountain that’s in front of me
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And through it all, through it all
It is well
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And it is well
It is well
So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name
So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name…

The Already, & The Not Yet…

I swore I’d give up hoping for a husband at the age of thirty-five, and kept true to my word. Just before my thirty-sixth birthday, however, God allowed my path to cross with the man he intended for me. This wonderful guy exactly fit the bill for what I’d been praying for in the previous twenty years, and I continue to marvel at this. As it turned out, our paths had been crossing for almost seventeen, and we had even attended the same small college together without ever meeting. It’s obvious the Lord had has own plan and timing at work. We can both see ways He prepared us for one another, though the journeys we walked alone were lonely and long. What a wonder to have the opportunity to join my life to his this past December! I couldn’t ask for a better partner to share life with.

That same month, doctors in Puerto Rico diagnosed his mother with Stage Four Ovarian Cancer. The elopement we planned for New Year’s Eve took place three weeks earlier than planned, and I said goodbye to my new husband the next day. Though good friends made it possible for me to travel to spend the holidays with him and meet his family, I needed to return to work two weeks later. He remains with his mom and aunt, attempting to help and care for them. His mom is stable for now, but suffering. He hopes to return here soon, but so much of the future is unknown.
Despite being separated for these first months of marriage, I’m so thankful to have him as a part of my journey. Distance is a challenge, certainly, but he’s wonderful about prioritizing our relationship and times for us to talk. He adds so much to my life, and yet…I miss him desperately. In holding all of this, I’m struck by the reminder of the phrase, “the already, and the not yet” used to describe Kingdom of God. As believers, we have the opportunity to partake in the Kingdom here on earth, and yet, we must simultaneously wait for its full realization. As we choose to reflect Christ each day, we can help bring the realities of Christ’s Kingdom to those around us. It’s a beautiful mystery, and a great opportunity. We live in unity with Christ here and now, but an even greater unity awaits us. My Beloved is mine, and I am His. I am invited to give thanks for what is, and dwell here today. I am invited to eagerly anticipate the great day that is to come.

Whether “Down in the Valley” or Standing  “Upon the Mountain of God”…

I’m in a really beautiful, beautiful season of my life right now. I have the opportunity to rest a little and chase a few dreams. I’ve fallen in love with the best man I’ve ever known, and even though there have been a few challenges for a Colorado girl pursuing a long-distance relationship with a Puerto-Rican (mostly three classes 4-5 hurricanes!), overall, I’m filled with gratitude every day for the sweetness of it all. As someone said long ago, it really is the greatest thing we’ll ever learn, just to love, and to be loved in return. This learning process is one that has given me the gift of getting to see the top of the tapestry the Lord is weaving in my life, when the previous thirty-five years have felt mostly like the underside view. In essence, my present in this present time is to stand upon the mountain of God with the one I love, looking back on the valleys we have separately crossed, as well as the deserts and hills we have independently wandered and climbed. We both look back on the last ten years of our lives, seasons that felt mysteriously dark and lonely to us both, and can now see so many ways God used them to prepare us for one another and the ministries to which we feel He is calling us. Our God is truly such a master architect and designer!

 

But, at the same time that my beloved and I are standing on top of the mountain of God, many others in my life are really hurting down in the valley. Good friends face the devastating betrayal and heartbreak of broken relationships. Another continues to desperately miss the husband she lost to illness. One is watching her uncle lose his battle against cancer, and her aunt face the prospect of losing a second husband to a terminal disease. I watch others suffer chronic pain or prolonged economic or relational difficulties. The people of Puerto Rico and México continue to suffer in the wake of shortages and hardships resulting from natural disasters. Many of the residents of Las Vegas grieve loved ones who tragically lost their lives to a mass shooting. As we all know, this world has no shortage of heartaches or joys. It is full of darkness, and it is full of light. And yet, even in the valley, we can hear the winds of promise blow, as a very old American folk song: “Down In the Valley” by Burl Ives says…

 

“Down in the valley, valley so low

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow

Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow

Hang your head over, hear the wind blow” (Lead Belly).

 

Whether this reaches you down in the valley today, standing upon the mountain of God,  or somewhere in between, may you hear in the wind the whisper of our Savior saying your name, and speaking of His unchanging and unfailing and unfathomably great love for you. May His voice fill your heart to overflowing; may He bring you peace. It’s funny, because all of this has been on my heart to write for so long, the title has been typed and awaiting me on my computer, and then this morning, I heard a song on the radio that was new to me, that perfectly expresses it all. I hope “Hills & Valleys”, by Tauren Wells, ministers to you, as it did to me. Wherever you are, may you know, without a doubt, you’re “safe inside [His] hand”.

 
“I’ve walked among the shadows
You wiped my tears away
And I’ve felt the pain of heartbreak
And I’ve seen the brighter days
And I’ve prayed prayers to heaven from my lowest place
And I have held the blessings
God, you give and take away
No matter what I have, Your grace is enough
No matter where I am, I’m standing in Your love
On the mountains, I will bow my life
To the one who set me there
In the valley, I will lift my eyes to the one who sees me there
When I’m standing on the mountain aft, didn’t get there on my own
When I’m walking through the valley end, no I am not alone!
You’re God of the hills and valleys!
Hills and Valleys!
God of the hills and valleys
And I am not alone!
I’ve watched my dreams get broken
In you I hope again!
No matter what I know
Know I’m safe inside Your hand.”

 

***Photo Credits: Lovedoes.org

Divine Interruptions…

Sometime in college, a friend and mentor introduced me to the concept of “Divine interruptions”. She noticed that I struggled with unpredictable interruptions into my very well-planned and predictable routine schedule, but counseled that I had to stay open to the idea that God was allowing these interruptions in my day and plans. They could, in fact, be what has been termed in “Christianese”, “Divine appointments.”  If I could learn to consider them Divine, I could remain inviting and open to what God wanted to show me, and how He wanted to use me.

 

This transformed my approach to life. It’s still a struggle, but over the years, space has often been created to see God do something that only He could do. Life would be a small fraction of the gift it has been if my heart had been closed. I’m so grateful for this lesson early in my adulthood. Life, indeed, is a series of interruptions that can affect and change our courses. I want to continue to see these as invitations into His space…as a surrender of the plans I cling to into His capable hands.
Henri Nouwen has invited, “Let us try to see the pain of our human and spiritual journey “from above.” The great art is to gradually trust that life’s interruptions are the places where God is molding you into the person you are called to be. Interruptions are not disruptions of your way to holiness, but rather are places where you are being formed into the unique person God calls you to be. You know you are living a grateful life when whatever happens is received as an invitation to deepen your heart, to strengthen your love, and to broaden your hope. You are living a grateful life when something is taken away from you that you thought was so important and you find yourself willing to say, ‘Maybe I’m being invited to a deeper way of living.’ ” I want to live in such gratefulness.