Saturday, January 31, 2015

"In This House We Will Giggle"

I'm in the middle of one of the best parenting books I've read to date:  In This House We Will Giggle by Courtney DeFeo.


I am totally seeing myself in this woman.  She grew up in a house full of love and laughter.  A house where she learned about the love and grace of Jesus, and knew that He loved her for who she was, not because she did everything "right."  She dreamed of raising her own kids in the same way, and then, she had those kids.  She woke up one day and realized that she was a perfectionist and a control freak, and that her kids were just following rules like robots.  It was nothing like the house that she had hoped to create.  

Cue God's beautiful grace.  She remembers that in the home where she grew up, "they shared the goodness of Christ rather than threatening us with fear of breaking his commands," (p. 10).  She determines herself to teach her children about the joy of choosing to do things God's way, not just teaching them through fear of consequences. 


She writes about teaching virtues to our children and helping them to make their faith their own by "creating an environment of affection and joy," (p. 6).


So good.  Can't wait to start applying these ideas in our home!

Thursday, January 29, 2015

A Long Road for Fashionable Boots

When your doctor's office knows that you plan evening appointments on purpose so that you can get a little date night out with your husband, and they have an adorable tongue-depressor-tissue-paper flower waiting for you in the office when you arrive to accompany you on said "date night," it's pretty special. 

I love what one of the sweet nurses called my CRPS journey tonight: "A long road for fashionable boots." 

It's the little things.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Night of Worship

There's not much that brings me joy like celebrating Jesus with music!  We had a night of worship this past weekend, and it was incredible to be in the auditorium at Northridge Church, surrounded by hundreds of people singing about the love and grace of Jesus together.

And, what's even better, is that now I can experience it all over again at home!  Check out the video here (http://vimeo.com/117960886).






Saturday, January 24, 2015

These Days

You know those days when it's so easy to feel discouraged because every step you've taken forward gets completely forgotten by a hard fall in the opposite direction? My recent past has been littered with them.

This was not one of those days.

While I know that what I do does not define me, it is a glorious blessing to have any amount of time with the ability to do.  So, I'm not going to miss a moment's chance to rejoice in the doing.  

I've been feeling well enough to do a lot of great stretching and yoga at home in the past forty-eight hours.  I might be pushing myself harder than I should, but I'm a dancer--and I'm determined.  It's been so encouraging.  It's so wonderful to move! 

My girls have been itching to get back into dance classes, and today, I was able to get around enough to give them ballet class at home.  It's been a long time since we've done this.  They loved it.  I loved it.


I helped Ava and Avianna sew four new throw pillows for their room.  They repurposed some dresses they have outgrown.  Girls after my own heart. 


My hand was strong enough to spend an entire hour of naptime playing the piano (and, more importantly, that's my right foot you're seeing on the sustain pedal!!)..


And I watched in disbelief as my six-days-away-from-being-a-year-old baby grew right before my eyes. 


It was a great day.  The kind of day to keep in the forefront of my mind when the other days are tough.  Can you go there with me?  What are the forward steps in your own life that you can focus on when challenges are pulling you backwards?  I'd love to hear them and hang on to joy with you.

"The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy," (Psalm 126:3).

Thursday, January 22, 2015

Present Comfort

Sometimes, I get too focused on whatever I think the next step should be (Just ask my husband what it looks like to try to make a decision in the moment with me).  So, I have to ask myself, when it comes to pain, am I so eager to find a positive way to cope and get on with life that I miss the chance to actually be held where it hurts?  Am I working so hard to make it beyond the hurt that I run right past the place where I could be comforted?

In one of His most famous teachings, Jesus said,

"Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted," 
(Matthew 5:4).

I used to think that Jesus was just offering future hope to people who were living underneath the weight of painful circumstances and loss.  Keep your chin up--someday, it will all be ok.  It's most definitely true that everything in this life is temporary, and what remains for eternity is what truly matters.  Paul makes this clear in Romans 8:18: "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed to us," (NIV).

But, and this is a big but (I can hear my children chuckling.  Actually, it's me who's chuckling.  I'm not mature enough for this game), I'll miss out on what a relationship with Jesus means for me today if I think that His promises are only for tomorrow.  Could it be that God wants to meet me in this moment with an open heart that feels my hurt with me?  That my hope isn't just for something far off?

The Greek word that Jesus uses for "mourn" here is transliterated: pentheo.  In Greek writings, the word is often paired with the word klaio, which means, "to weep."  According to W.E. Vine, this indicates that "pentheo is used especially of external manifestation of grief," (1).

Jesus is talking about grief that you can see.  Grief that is intentional and outward and noticeable.  Not covered up by a lifeless facade.  This is not "keep your chin up" business.

Pain is so often invisible.  It can be tempting to act like everything is ok just because it's easier than trying to get someone else to understand.  It's not uncommon for people to put on a happy face all the time and pretend like nothing is ever wrong.  Battling depression or temptation, put on a confident face in front of people, and pretend like nothing is wrong.  Just had a fight with your spouse, slap on a fake smile, and walk into church.  Life feels like it's falling apart, tell everybody you're great, and recite your best line about how you're blessed, even if you haven't ever stopped to think about what it really means for God to bless.  Wouldn't want anyone to know that life has real challenges and that we face real struggles.    

I love being a part of Northridge Church.  One of the things that we say all the time is, "Life is better connected."  When we make a point of doing life in relationships with people, when we are honest and open about our struggles, we can make invisible things visible and we can have people to walk beside us through everything.  One of the very tangible ways that Jesus brings that comfort.

Not only is Jesus talking about visible mourning in this passage, but He is also speaking about the here and now.  Blessed are.

"Blessing literally means 'happy, fortunate, blissful.'  Here it speaks of more than a surface emotion," (2).  A relationship with Jesus isn't just about someday.  His salvation isn't just an admission ticket to heaven.  It's an eternity, filled with hope, and it starts right now.  Comfort for mourning.  God is "the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God," (2 Corinthians 1:3b-4).

Present mourning and present comfort.

I never thought I would have to be intentional about mourning.  I kind of assumed that if trouble hit me hard, I'd just do it.  But I'm finding that mourning is a conscious decision.  Slow down.  Feel.  Call a spade a spade.  Loss hurts.  Know that He feels it with you.  And He will comfort you.  Will you let Him?  Have you ever noticed how hard it is to hug someone who clearly doesn't want to be touched?  If I think I don't need comfort, it's a lot more difficult for me to receive comfort.  I can't just look for tomorrow, because I'm in today.  Blessed are those who take this necessary step to healing.  Blessed are those who mourn.  It's an open avenue for God's joyful blessing and for His very present comfort.  I grieve, and He holds me.

I love this MercyMe song, The Hurt and the Healer.  "I fall into Your arms open wide.  When the hurt and the Healer collide..."  

(The link, if you can't see the video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3xzaivDbu9c)


It's true.  And it's for right now.  In the arms of Jesus.  "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted," (Matthew 5:4).




(1) Vine, W.E., Vine's Complete Expository Dictionary of Old and New Testament Words, 1996, p. 418
(2) MacArthur, J. The MacArthur Bible Commentary, p. 1129

Friday, January 16, 2015

Face-to-Face

My Grampy taught me so much about what it means to love God with everything.  I always said, growing up, that my Grampy was the clearest image of Jesus I had ever seen in a person.  The day before yesterday, he went to be face-to-face with Him.  

I'll never forget one Sunday, when I was a very little girl, and we were visiting Grampy and Grammy’s church.  Someone was singing about how amazing God is, and Grampy was on his knees with his face in his hands.  Grampy, the tall and strong farmer, pastor, teacher.  At first glance, in my youthful wonder, it looked like his soft white beard was unraveling through his fingertips.  As I continued to stare, I realized that he was weeping.  I just sat there, gazing at this beautiful man who was so unashamed and in awe of his Savior.  I watched as a stream of tears poured through his hands, and I wanted to love Jesus like that.  I still want to love Jesus like that.  

Among his many gifts, Grampy was a writer.  He penned this poem a few years ago, and it captures such a lovely image of the confidence he had in his relationship with God, and of his hope and expectancy of the beautiful joy that he has now passed into.  

Magical Christmas

There’s magic in the air tonight,
A mystic, bright expectancy
That bathes reality in transformed light,
And brooks of no reluctantcy.

Reindeer fly and snow men dance,
Sleigh bells ring for those whose ear
Is tuned to young romance,
And birds outsing their time of year.

We sing of friendship, love, and peace;
We look beyond our desperate grasp
For hope and joy that will not cease
Fulfilling dreams that will not pass.

Yet, oh how soon these scenes are left!
Our lives return with restless haste 
To work routine of joy bereft
And all our hopes have gone to waste.

To practice magic is a slight of hand;
Deceives the naïve, trustful eye and mind
While waving the magician’s wand
That hides and leaves the truth behind.

If we would find true Christmas joy
And living peace that really lasts
We must employ another means
That neither shade nor image casts.

By faith we seize God’s priceless gift,
An endless close relationship
That has no shadows that can shift,
But love and blest companionship.

(c) Robert Fidler, December 14, 2007

Thank you, Grampy.  We love you.


Tuesday, January 13, 2015

Taste and See

I stood in the kitchen today, marveling at the ability to be on my feet.  I've had so much of this since my fourth nerve block last week!  I love baking, and I can't begin to tell you how thankful I am for the chance to stand long enough do it.  It's a glorious thing to lose something and then have it returned to you.  As I mixed the ingredients for soy-free-dairy-free blueberry muffins for a sweet little one with allergies, my mind wandered elsewhere.    

It was the week leading up to the Fourth of July.  I was eight or nine years old, but it could have been yesterday.  

I sat on the edge of my seat in church as a woman shared the story of how her car had been stolen.  Her purse was inside.  Helpless and afraid, she prayed to God that He would bring back what had been taken from her.  Shortly afterwards, she received a phone call from the police.  Her car had been found, unharmed, on the side of the road, with the keys and all of her belongings (including her purse and its contents) sitting on the passenger seat.  It was nothing short of a miracle.  I was amazed at what God had done.    

A few days later, my older sister and I took a walk to a nearby store, excited to spend some of our savings on sparklers for the upcoming holiday.  I was particularly thrilled when it turned out that I had enough money for a few extra-large sparklers--the ribbon-wrapped kind that burned in colors.  Then, we made the little up-hill trek back home with our spoils and ran through the door of our house, eager to show Mom what we had purchased.     

As I opened my bag, my heart sank.  The small sparklers were there, but the large ones were gone.  They must have fallen out of the bag on the way home.  Mom took us back out right away and she drove us up and down the hill, looking for what I had lost.  My sparklers were nowhere to be found.

I sat on my bed, disappointed, and then I remembered the woman's story about praying for God to bring her car back.  Surely, God knew where my sparklers were.  So, I prayed, and I asked Jesus to bring them back to me.  

"Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight," (Hebrews 4:13). 

Later in the afternoon, a woman came to our door.  There, she stood, holding my lost sparkers in her hands.  "I found these, and I thought they might belong to you," she said, simply.  I stood, in awe of my God.  It's been decades, and I am still in awe of the way that He shows me that He hears me and that He cares for me so deeply.  It was something so trivial.  Sparklers for the Fourth of July.  And the God of the Universe cared.  


Many things have slipped through my fingers over the years.  I've known deep darkness and I've grieved great loss.  It doesn't mean that God has cared less in those times or that, in those cases, He somehow didn't hear me when I prayed.  He is always with me, He is always good, He always knows exactly what I need, and He always sees the bigger picture.  In the story of Job, in the Bible, when he lost everything, he knew that it didn't change who God was.  This was his response: "The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised," (Job 1:21b).   

When I think back on the beginning of my journey--walking through life with Jesus--the sparklers story always stands out.  It's not because I got what I asked for.  Yes, that was glorious.  God did a really incredible thing that day.  More than anything, though, He showed me that He hears me.  That He is so close to me.  That He cares, even about the details.  That life with Him is full of hope, no matter what is happening, because knowing Him is hope.     

"Taste and see that the Lord is good..." (Psalm 34:8 NIV).



Saturday, January 10, 2015

Mountains to Climb (and run-on sentences)

I'm an overachiever.  I'm organized.  I love lists.  And I've been known to write extra things onto my already-completed to-do lists at the end of the day just so that I can check them off.

But sometimes, stress sneaks up from behind me and I begin to feel like whatever mountain I'm trying to climb is insurmountable.  It can be over the most serious thing or the silliest thing.  I panic in the moment, convinced that I can't actually get anything done, that the odds are all against me, that my husband and children will be unfulfilled and scarred for life by my insufficiency.

That's when I need to take a step back and take a long look at the mountain.  Is it a necessary mountain?  Or did I build it up on my own?  Is it real, or is it really just my own pile of expectations and desires and well-meaning intentions?

Sometimes, it's a real mountain, with real requirements and real rewards.  Sometimes, the rest of today really depends on me getting to whatever is at that snowy peak.   As in, my children actually need me to navigate some sort of a path through the piles of laundry and around the stacks of unopened mail and over the middle-of-the-room forts and half-written grocery lists and morning appointments in order to make them peanut butter sandwiches and change their diapers and get them off to school.  I really do need to see that they get down for their naps before they go crazy from mid-day exhaustion.  I really do need to get the chicken out of the freezer so that it will thaw in time to make another meal for everybody to eat tonight and make sure the bills get paid in time so that I have a stove to cook it on.  I really do need to make sure that I have a ride to physical therapy and someone else to care for my children while I'm there.  That's a real mountain.  And I really need to climb it.

But sometimes, my mountain is higher than it should be because of how badly I want everything to be tidy before naptime, or how quickly I think I need to respond to all of those text messages, or how many pairs of clean jammies I think everyone needs to have in their drawers all at once.  Will my children survive until bedtime if I don't actually find fifteen creative ways to get them to consume five servings of vegetables?  How much more important it is for me to sanitize the kitchen counters than to pay attention to the little girl asking me to paint a picture with her next to the dirty dishes on that counter?  How many of the projects that are floating around in my head today are going to ensure that my family and the people around me know that they are loved?  Sometimes, I can make it over those extra hills, and those times are truly fantastic.  But sometimes, if I think that they are as necessary-to-life-and-love as everything else, I can end up feeling pretty small and pretty powerless.

Someday, we'll get around to painting these walls.  And we'll probably clean up the table before dinnertime.  But for now, there's an artist at work.

It's been nearly three months since I was diagnosed with Complex Regional Pain Syndrome (CRPS).  It has been a glorious constant in my life.  A moment-by-moment reminder of how much I need Jesus.  Of how perfectly He meets my every need.  I repeat this verse all the time: "And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of His glory in Christ Jesus," (Philippains 4:19).


I'm learning a lot about needs.  Really, I've been learning how many of the things I thought were necessary aren't really needs at all.  I've been learning that I don't need to demand that something is a need for God to know what it is.  I'm learning that I don't need to be able to do everything I once was able to do.  It's ok that I'm not super woman.  I am able to accomplish the tasks set before me today.  I am able to fulfill the responsibilities that have been given to me today.  The fact is:  I just need eyes to see what they really are.  Eyes to see what really matters todayGod, please give them to me.
If I only see the toys on the floor, I miss out on the beauty of the kids playing with them.

If it's a need, my God always makes a way for it to be filled.  Somehow--even when I am overwhelmed by how much stands before me, when I am afraid of the outcome of things beyond of my control--He makes a way.  And, sometimes, the way that He makes is to help me open my hands and let go of all of the extra stuff I'm stacking on top of the mountain on my own.

Romans 8:37 says that we are "more than conquerors through Him who loved us."  

When God brought His people, Israel, to the land He had promised to them, the Israelites were afraid because of the enemy that stood in between them and the land.  One particular man, Caleb, saw the enemy, but he trusted in a bigger God.  He was convinced that he and his people were fully equipped to take on any giant, because it was God who was sending them: "...we are well able to overcome it," (Numbers 13:30).  Not just able.  Well able.     

And, the very same God is bigger than the giants in my life.  He's bigger than my mountains.  The same God makes me able--well able--to conquer those giants and to climb those mountains.  "You have made Your saving help my shield, and Your right hand sustains me; Your help has made me great," (Psalm 18:35, NIV).  

When there is a mountain of needs in front of me and I feel like I'm too weak for the battle, He is stronger.  Underneath the gloom of trials, in a place where I can't see or anticipate my next step, He carries me.  In my lack of ability, He is my help, and He sends great help to surround me.  In the thickness of the darkness, He has never left me alone.  When I feel panicked and afraid because I can't see how I could possibly check everything off of the list that hangs over me, He is working every detail out for good.  I don't need to insist on what good should look like.  Because He knows better.  He is good.  

One thing I know is certain in all of my uncertainty: God is able.  And because He is able, I am able.

Today is beautiful evidence of it.  Because my God is able, because of His amazing power in me, because of His response to the faithful prayers of so many people, because of the amazing medical team at the URMC Pain Treatment Center, because of my incredible physical therapists at Agape Physical Therapy, today, I am climbing this mountain on my own two feet.  I had my fourth nerve block this week, and I've been walking for most of each day since.  With barely any pain for so much of the day.  With beautiful ability.  More than able.
Today, walking almost looks like dancing.
Sure, there are still things I can't do yet--but I'm just going to write them off of my list for the day.  I'm not going to add them to the mountain.  My God will meet all of my needs.  I'm going to walk in the strength that He gives me, and I'm going to climb as high as I can.




“Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your life

"And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith?  So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own,” (Matthew 6:25-34).



Saturday, January 3, 2015

"Mommy, God is healing you!"

One of the facts about CRPS is that if you catch it and begin treating it within its first three months, your chances of going into remission are exponentially higher than otherwise.  By God’s grace, I was diagnosed within a week of developing CRPS, and we were able to begin treatments immediately. 

A few days ago, I had my third lumbar sympathetic (nerve) block.  Within thirty hours of that third procedure, I was able to walk for about four hours.  Each day since then, I’ve been able to have my legs under me for multiple hours a day.  During much of the time, I’ve only had half of the pain that has followed me incessantly for the past three months.  I can feel my muscle mass building back up as I continue to regain movement and ability.  It certainly still hurts, but I can push through it, and it’s amazing!  

My girls love to memorize verses from the Bible, and one that we practiced this past year was Psalm 30:2 (super-cute-kid-video-that-apparently-only-shows-up-on-actual-computer-screens): 



“Lord, my God, I called to You for help, and You healed me.”  

They’ve been bouncing around the house, seeing me move so much more freely, and declaring the truth that they are witnessing: “Mommy, God is healing you!”  

He has been with us every step of the way.  We’ve seen His hands and His goodness in the help and generosity of so many people.  We’ve seen His grace and strength in the ease with which our family has adjusted to our new normal.  We’ve seen the joy and hope that He brings in every circumstance, and we’ve learned how to thank Him through everything.  We’ve seen His power and wisdom in the amazing medical teams we’ve had the blessing of working with.  We’ve seen His healing in each moment I’ve been able to stand.  


“I love You, Lord, my strength. . .You provide a broad path for my feet, so that my ankles do not give way,” (Psalm 18:1, 36).