"Wow. I thought I was handling all this." Ha! How arrogant I am and how small minded. How forgetful of God's grace to help me face each moment. My poor husband has been kind and tried to
help me - me, who doesn't want to keep going anymore. It feels like one sucker punch after another
these days, and I think I am done. How very small of me! The punches I feel are only side swipes - I
am not actually being punched. I ashamed of how I am punching those around me in retaliation for my own desire for relief. I want to run, or hide, or die or all of the above.
My daughter is being smacked down again and again. Biopsies, stem cell rejections, fatigue, not fitting in w her peers, wondering how to carry on. Angry that she hasn't died yet. And, angry that our dear family friend did. A 39 year old husband and father passed away from cancer one week ago today. I was privileged to be the funeral coordinator for his service. It was one of the hardest funerals I have ever had to do. Our families have been crossing links for 20 years. His parents were leading the first small group we joined when we moved here. His sister is a dear friend who was my girls' most favourite babysitter when they were little. We attended his wedding with our now strapping teen son in a baby seat. His daughter is very good friends with our daughter and on it goes.
Our society is so full of pretense where death is concerned. When I work a funeral, it's real. Carrying the urn (which is shockingly heavy), setting up flowers, leading the grieving family. The best gift my father's death, almost 10 years ago, gave me was the knowledge that there is nothing to say and you can only be there. So, I was there. I actually spoke very little, but my heart was shrieking inside as I walked with his mom, our arms around each other. I am aware that she was about to say goodbye to her baby and selfishly, I know that my baby is still perilously close to danger, so I was aware of the agony. I hugged his sister and told her she didn't need words for me, that it was her time and to just be. I wanted so much to take away their pain, not intrude on them and yet, to let them know how much I love them. I think that's when the armour that I have had carefully built around me really started falling off.
I have been filled with despair, feeling no hope all week. More than that, I have been really angry. Angry that God seems to have lost His way in my life and is not at all concerned about how my world is failing and those I love are crumbling without any help forthcoming. I feel so much pressure to help my daughter and yet, I am so aware that she is an adult and must face her life and make her choices. Yet, there is a struggle in that because she is still so ill and I am still her caregiver. I have to count out the pills, help her get to appointments and we talk about the expectations of others around her to just get better now, be happy now, go to work, go to school and just GET BETTER! This is the point where climbing a mountain and becoming a hermit has a very strong appeal.
I am angry. Bitter. Tired. Unfair. My poor husband is hurting and I feel so selfishly self centered that I am not reaching out to care for him. I love him. He is so special and I am afraid I am going to lose him, so I am determined not to need him or let him in. How awful. I am ashamed and still can't find the courage to be vulnerable. Or even to let myself cry very much.
And then... And then I went to church last night and one of my favourite psalms was read. Psalm 73. I love that psalm because it is so real and because I am so aware that I have been behaving like a dumb beast. I know better. I know that when I worship God for who He IS and for loving Him because He IS, then my heart is truly helped. I, literally, cannot go on this way. I must not go on this way. Thank you God for your mercy.
Psalm 73 (verses 1,2 and 22 to 26)
Surely God is good to Israel, to those who are pure in heart.
But as for me, my feet had almost slipped: I had nearly lost my foothold.
For I envied the arrogant when I saw the prosperity of the wicked.
...
When my heart was grieved and my spirit embittered, I was senseless and ignorant;
I was a brute beast before You.
Yet I am always with You; You hold me by my right hand. You guide me with your counsel,
and afterward You will take me into glory. Whom have I in heaven but You? And earth
has nothing I desire besides You.
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my my portion forever.
Truth matters. It matters deeply because there is no where else to stand. The young man who passed away knew this and he was worshipping even as he died. He knew his wife and kids will be okay. They will suffer and mourn but God will carry them. Not only that, but they will be together again one day when time will cease to matter and every hurt and harm will be forever banished. Forever. That is why we sang "Bless the Lord oh my soul" and the tears were deep and healing and precious.
I can go on. I can go on today because my Heavenly Father cares and is carrying me and everyone I love so much. I have nothing, He has it all and that is okay. Actually, it is more than okay, it is right and good. Forgive me Lord, for my arrogance and my despair. You never lost your way in my life - I did.
Thank you that today is new. Thank you that the relief I need is not from my circumstances, but from my blindness to see You. You are good, You are sovereign, You can be trusted.
Just thinking.
Sunday 27 July 2014
Thursday 17 July 2014
My Bootstraps are Broken
I think I have mentioned before that I am tired. This year's journey seems never ending and with no levelling off anytime soon. We are in a season of illness, stillness and pressure. I also laugh as I write this, because I know that God is fully with me and that He is still sovereign and that I am a two year old writhing around in His lap, fussing and fuming. Having had many a two year old in my own lap, this makes me smile because there is always a humorous side to it. Two year olds can be very funny and super dramatic. They also have no idea of what is best for them.
My bootstraps really are broken. I have nothing left with which to pull myself up and get going again on my own power. I was raised by a man who demanded that I be strong and self sufficient from the time I was very young. As a young teen I was given book after book about being in control, making life work and being number one (actually, I read a book called Looking Out for #1). Instead of putting me in control and confident, I struggled with depression and an overwhelming sense of failure and hopelessness. Part of the push - pull in my home was that I should be strong and dominant and also that I was bad and would never amount to anything. Plus, I am a perfectionist and I felt very deeply in my soul, that nothing was ever truly perfect, not in performances or even in nature. It was always somehow damaged. Even a longed for party or holiday was marred by imperfection and the weight of this, coupled with the expectation to make a strong life for myself, actually wound up paralyzing me and I spent much time longing for death or an escape from the hopelessness.
Enter Jesus Christ, the only perfect man the world has ever known. It was the end of my grade 12 year and I was invited to hang out with some young people I was beginning to get to know better after a high school choir bus trip to Vancouver and back. I don't remember much of the evening, or even who was speaking, but I remember vividly the description of the perfect man who never made mistakes, never got tired, knew the future and loved me unconditionally and would lead the way for me. Oh, thank you God! Even as I write this, I remember the profound relief and the gift of hope. John 14:6 "Jesus said, I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except thru me". Granite. Solid, strong and rational. I had been searching all my teen years and was found by my loving God.
My father grew up in a very poor, very rigid home and as soon as he could, he left his family, their teachings and even the province to get away and make his own life. My mom was raised in a small town and going to church was a way of life, but not actual relationship with God. She was happy to go with Dad but very sympathetic to me when I began searching. She took me to a church that was full of happy people who really were all about making life work and the sermons were a shot in the arm to keep you going and try harder. Depressing and so we stopped going. Dead end.
Fast forward to the end of Grade 12 and the hope I found in Jesus. Rock solid. Real hope. I went home and my father expressed his disappointment in my weakness. My inability to use my bootstraps properly and get going. Normally, this would be world ending and yet, the hope I had found was real and unrelenting. I was safe. There's a reason I couldn't find perfection and that it is good to need Someone to make a way for me. The Fall. Until the Father sets everything right again, life here on planet earth will be hard, dirty and imperfect. Phew!!!
My father gave me some good gifts. A desire to read and know what I thought and felt and be able to back up my thinking. I began to read and learn about Christianity and the truth that was unshakable. A solid granite path beneath my feet both academically and experientially in my life. I began to grow and read and enjoy. I met an amazing man, we married and had a beautiful family. We moved away from out city of origin and found our place in a new home and a new church. Awesome. We struggled and were messy and weak and God rescued us and we knew peace amidst the struggles.
Until fairly recently. When again, I realized that there was an expectation even within my own community that the time had come for me to pull myself up by the bootstraps and fix things. Get over your daughter's cancer, she's recovering. (Not really, but it sounds good.) Get back in control of your body and lose the weight you gained, get your house in order, get back into life, GET IT TOGETHER!! In all fairness, this could be old voices in my head to add to just a few, not the majority of people in my life. It really wouldn't be surprising would it? :)
My bootstraps are broken. I have no energy, no desire and not even an idea of how to fix anything. One of my very dear friends has been sidelined to her couch for a long while, as her broken body tries to get rid of garbage it has carried for many years. We are in agreement that we are both in a counter cultural - both world and church - stream right now. Hidden, quiet and broken. I have a deep sense that God is doing good things, completely unaided by my help or her help. Life is not just lived for here on planet earth, we are getting ready for the life to come. Nothing here will ever be wasted. God is sovereign. How come I know this and it hurts so much? How come I know how weak I am but I still hate to admit it?
On my calendar right now is a quotation that I have been reading over and over. It's a gooder.
"Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow. The same loving Heavenly Father who took care of you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day; either He will heal you from pain, or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it. So be at peace then. Put aside anxious fears and imaginings and say continually, "The Lord is my strength and my shield. In Him do I place my trust and I am helped"". (St. Francis de Sales in the 1500's)
I have been evaluating my life here since coming home in June. My husband and I are struggling to make some decisions for our family and our future. I have been tugging on my broken bootstraps to get myself up and ready to fix it all, and failing miserably. Thank you God for that gift of weakness. When I think about hearing from Jesus, what do I want? Do I want mere relief from my pain and demand blessings? NO! I want to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant. You loved me above all and I am pleased". I will wait and be quiet and leave those darn bootstraps alone.
Just thinking.
My bootstraps really are broken. I have nothing left with which to pull myself up and get going again on my own power. I was raised by a man who demanded that I be strong and self sufficient from the time I was very young. As a young teen I was given book after book about being in control, making life work and being number one (actually, I read a book called Looking Out for #1). Instead of putting me in control and confident, I struggled with depression and an overwhelming sense of failure and hopelessness. Part of the push - pull in my home was that I should be strong and dominant and also that I was bad and would never amount to anything. Plus, I am a perfectionist and I felt very deeply in my soul, that nothing was ever truly perfect, not in performances or even in nature. It was always somehow damaged. Even a longed for party or holiday was marred by imperfection and the weight of this, coupled with the expectation to make a strong life for myself, actually wound up paralyzing me and I spent much time longing for death or an escape from the hopelessness.
Enter Jesus Christ, the only perfect man the world has ever known. It was the end of my grade 12 year and I was invited to hang out with some young people I was beginning to get to know better after a high school choir bus trip to Vancouver and back. I don't remember much of the evening, or even who was speaking, but I remember vividly the description of the perfect man who never made mistakes, never got tired, knew the future and loved me unconditionally and would lead the way for me. Oh, thank you God! Even as I write this, I remember the profound relief and the gift of hope. John 14:6 "Jesus said, I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except thru me". Granite. Solid, strong and rational. I had been searching all my teen years and was found by my loving God.
My father grew up in a very poor, very rigid home and as soon as he could, he left his family, their teachings and even the province to get away and make his own life. My mom was raised in a small town and going to church was a way of life, but not actual relationship with God. She was happy to go with Dad but very sympathetic to me when I began searching. She took me to a church that was full of happy people who really were all about making life work and the sermons were a shot in the arm to keep you going and try harder. Depressing and so we stopped going. Dead end.
Fast forward to the end of Grade 12 and the hope I found in Jesus. Rock solid. Real hope. I went home and my father expressed his disappointment in my weakness. My inability to use my bootstraps properly and get going. Normally, this would be world ending and yet, the hope I had found was real and unrelenting. I was safe. There's a reason I couldn't find perfection and that it is good to need Someone to make a way for me. The Fall. Until the Father sets everything right again, life here on planet earth will be hard, dirty and imperfect. Phew!!!
My father gave me some good gifts. A desire to read and know what I thought and felt and be able to back up my thinking. I began to read and learn about Christianity and the truth that was unshakable. A solid granite path beneath my feet both academically and experientially in my life. I began to grow and read and enjoy. I met an amazing man, we married and had a beautiful family. We moved away from out city of origin and found our place in a new home and a new church. Awesome. We struggled and were messy and weak and God rescued us and we knew peace amidst the struggles.
Until fairly recently. When again, I realized that there was an expectation even within my own community that the time had come for me to pull myself up by the bootstraps and fix things. Get over your daughter's cancer, she's recovering. (Not really, but it sounds good.) Get back in control of your body and lose the weight you gained, get your house in order, get back into life, GET IT TOGETHER!! In all fairness, this could be old voices in my head to add to just a few, not the majority of people in my life. It really wouldn't be surprising would it? :)
My bootstraps are broken. I have no energy, no desire and not even an idea of how to fix anything. One of my very dear friends has been sidelined to her couch for a long while, as her broken body tries to get rid of garbage it has carried for many years. We are in agreement that we are both in a counter cultural - both world and church - stream right now. Hidden, quiet and broken. I have a deep sense that God is doing good things, completely unaided by my help or her help. Life is not just lived for here on planet earth, we are getting ready for the life to come. Nothing here will ever be wasted. God is sovereign. How come I know this and it hurts so much? How come I know how weak I am but I still hate to admit it?
On my calendar right now is a quotation that I have been reading over and over. It's a gooder.
"Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow. The same loving Heavenly Father who took care of you today will take care of you tomorrow and every day; either He will heal you from pain, or He will give you unfailing strength to bear it. So be at peace then. Put aside anxious fears and imaginings and say continually, "The Lord is my strength and my shield. In Him do I place my trust and I am helped"". (St. Francis de Sales in the 1500's)
I have been evaluating my life here since coming home in June. My husband and I are struggling to make some decisions for our family and our future. I have been tugging on my broken bootstraps to get myself up and ready to fix it all, and failing miserably. Thank you God for that gift of weakness. When I think about hearing from Jesus, what do I want? Do I want mere relief from my pain and demand blessings? NO! I want to hear, "Well done, good and faithful servant. You loved me above all and I am pleased". I will wait and be quiet and leave those darn bootstraps alone.
Just thinking.
Wednesday 9 July 2014
Summer Melancholy
I heard country singer Paul Brandt talking about a song he wrote about how summer feels in Alberta. It really resonated with me and funnily enough, has taken away the pressure I feel to enjoy summer. I always have a vague, nagging feeling that I am not enjoying the sunshine enough or being summery enough because the season is so short. I agreed with what he said about "the pressures of summer because it's so short and winter is coming", or something close to that.
I didn't realize how debilitating that little voice in the back of my head can be. Especially this summer, I don't really want to be forced to get outside and soak up the sun. I will enjoy some pool time with my youngest when she is home from camp and that will be enough. I still have so much to do at home here, and in truth, I hate being hot. My garden needs attention and that will come eventually, but not today. Today I give myself permission to do some inside stuff and be at peace. Yes, summer is short, but fall is actually my most favourite season and that is coming up. I am reminded that my heart tugs about the passing of seasons is a reminder that I was made for eternity and timelessness and that this is not home. What a relief! The pressure is reduced, knowing that I can use this melancholy to remind me of my longing for heaven and that passing seasons are good measuring sticks as my life is passing by.
The Bible talks about our life as a breath and today, I am grateful for that. I will take each day as it comes. I will be grateful for my blessings and I will do what I can. People are most precious and I want space in my heart for them, not for a clean house and a perfect looking life! (And the ever present pressure to have a great summer tan!) I can look out my window at the sunshine and rejoice and then, get on with whatever I need to do here inside. No guilt, no shame. I have had some wonderful summers with lots of lake time and summer fun, but life seasons change and I can embrace all of them. Memories can bless us and bind us too and today, I choose to remember and release and keep moving ahead. I am not the same hopeless mess I was last summer, I am a new mess in a new place! Summer melancholy is a good phrase. It gives me a release from the pressure and a joy in today.
Just thinking.
I didn't realize how debilitating that little voice in the back of my head can be. Especially this summer, I don't really want to be forced to get outside and soak up the sun. I will enjoy some pool time with my youngest when she is home from camp and that will be enough. I still have so much to do at home here, and in truth, I hate being hot. My garden needs attention and that will come eventually, but not today. Today I give myself permission to do some inside stuff and be at peace. Yes, summer is short, but fall is actually my most favourite season and that is coming up. I am reminded that my heart tugs about the passing of seasons is a reminder that I was made for eternity and timelessness and that this is not home. What a relief! The pressure is reduced, knowing that I can use this melancholy to remind me of my longing for heaven and that passing seasons are good measuring sticks as my life is passing by.
The Bible talks about our life as a breath and today, I am grateful for that. I will take each day as it comes. I will be grateful for my blessings and I will do what I can. People are most precious and I want space in my heart for them, not for a clean house and a perfect looking life! (And the ever present pressure to have a great summer tan!) I can look out my window at the sunshine and rejoice and then, get on with whatever I need to do here inside. No guilt, no shame. I have had some wonderful summers with lots of lake time and summer fun, but life seasons change and I can embrace all of them. Memories can bless us and bind us too and today, I choose to remember and release and keep moving ahead. I am not the same hopeless mess I was last summer, I am a new mess in a new place! Summer melancholy is a good phrase. It gives me a release from the pressure and a joy in today.
Just thinking.
Tuesday 1 July 2014
Swimming Upstream
My family loves the movie, "Finding Neemo", mostly because we love Dorie. Lately, I have heard her little song about just keep swimming playing in my head. It makes me smile and then it makes me cry. I hate pity parties and I also hate phoniness and fake positive attitudes. I would like to do life perfectly and not make mistakes, but I am well aware it is not possible. However, there must be some sort of happy medium somewhere, instead of this gasping feeling that I am swimming upstream and against the currents of people around me.
Yesterday I went to see some friends of ours who have kids a little younger than our youngest. He is dying of cancer and she is his caregiver. I was so struck by what she said when we were talking about how hard this is (no, I didn't go and tell her to just have faith and God is in control!) and it has stuck in my thoughts. She said, "He has something to look forward to". Meaning he will be in Heaven soon and not suffering anymore and oh, how I want that for him, but I understand what she was saying too. She has to stay here, say goodbye, raise their kids alone and keep living. It makes me cry and it makes me remember some hard core truth. That she will not be alone, Jesus will be holding her every step of the way. That our time here on earth with all the pain and struggle will be "light and momentary" in eternity and that Jesus will wipe every tear from her eyes. I know this, like a solid granite platform beneath us. I am aware of all the coming miracles that God will provide her and her precious kids. I am grateful AND I am sad. Jesus wept at the pain that death causes us (He wept for Mary and Martha) and I am so glad He did. It shows that we were never meant to be separated from each other and how awful the Fall truly was. Thank you, God, that one day soon, You will fix it all. Until then, we weep and cry and we trust and hurt.
The part I find hardest sometimes is those who are quick to deny hurt or skip to the end of the story too quickly. I am glad to be home and I am glad my daughter is cancer free. I also feel like I am just coming to the surface again, after being underwater for 7 months and feeling the pain I couldn't feel back then. It is overwhelming sometimes. She is still suffering and right now is deep in the midst of grief. Grief at her lost dreams, her permanently scarred body, her fear to live, her guilt that she is alive and our friend is dying and leaving his family. We are swimming upstream and I am out of breath. I want to hide from all those that are quick to remind me of positives, and yet I am fearful of being negative, drama seeking and morbid. I don't want to deny or downplay the amazing journey we are on thru my daughter's cancer, but for today, right now I am tired and full of unshed tears. And disgusted with myself that I feel like I can't pull up the bootstraps and carry on.
There are moments of joy and laughter. I am getting ready to paint a bedroom a really horrible bright green that my daughter thinks is fabulous. She is away at camp and I want the fun of surprising her. I love painting my house, partly because it stays finished! I am glad to see friends and tell them I love them and yet, my soul feels raw and bleeding and it hurts when they push me to rejoice in the way they think it should be. I am so aware of my weakness and my inability to help my daughter choose life and my inability to help our friends thru the deep waters they are suffering under. I actually feel angry when I am called incredible or strong. No, no I'm not. I am carried by my loving Father and I am so screwed up and weak. Here I am, healthy and feeling like I can't go on. I am ashamed. I can't fix this. But...
"I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed to Him against that day". (1 Tim.1:12).
I am reminded of all that God has done to get me here in spite of myself and I know it is true when I say, "Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than I can ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work in me, to Him be all the glory". (Eph 3:20) That allows me to be sad, to make mistakes and most of all, to place all those that I love so deeply and passionately in His arms and know that upstream, downstream or sidestream, all will be well and all will be well.
Finally, a deep breath.
Just thinking.
Yesterday I went to see some friends of ours who have kids a little younger than our youngest. He is dying of cancer and she is his caregiver. I was so struck by what she said when we were talking about how hard this is (no, I didn't go and tell her to just have faith and God is in control!) and it has stuck in my thoughts. She said, "He has something to look forward to". Meaning he will be in Heaven soon and not suffering anymore and oh, how I want that for him, but I understand what she was saying too. She has to stay here, say goodbye, raise their kids alone and keep living. It makes me cry and it makes me remember some hard core truth. That she will not be alone, Jesus will be holding her every step of the way. That our time here on earth with all the pain and struggle will be "light and momentary" in eternity and that Jesus will wipe every tear from her eyes. I know this, like a solid granite platform beneath us. I am aware of all the coming miracles that God will provide her and her precious kids. I am grateful AND I am sad. Jesus wept at the pain that death causes us (He wept for Mary and Martha) and I am so glad He did. It shows that we were never meant to be separated from each other and how awful the Fall truly was. Thank you, God, that one day soon, You will fix it all. Until then, we weep and cry and we trust and hurt.
The part I find hardest sometimes is those who are quick to deny hurt or skip to the end of the story too quickly. I am glad to be home and I am glad my daughter is cancer free. I also feel like I am just coming to the surface again, after being underwater for 7 months and feeling the pain I couldn't feel back then. It is overwhelming sometimes. She is still suffering and right now is deep in the midst of grief. Grief at her lost dreams, her permanently scarred body, her fear to live, her guilt that she is alive and our friend is dying and leaving his family. We are swimming upstream and I am out of breath. I want to hide from all those that are quick to remind me of positives, and yet I am fearful of being negative, drama seeking and morbid. I don't want to deny or downplay the amazing journey we are on thru my daughter's cancer, but for today, right now I am tired and full of unshed tears. And disgusted with myself that I feel like I can't pull up the bootstraps and carry on.
There are moments of joy and laughter. I am getting ready to paint a bedroom a really horrible bright green that my daughter thinks is fabulous. She is away at camp and I want the fun of surprising her. I love painting my house, partly because it stays finished! I am glad to see friends and tell them I love them and yet, my soul feels raw and bleeding and it hurts when they push me to rejoice in the way they think it should be. I am so aware of my weakness and my inability to help my daughter choose life and my inability to help our friends thru the deep waters they are suffering under. I actually feel angry when I am called incredible or strong. No, no I'm not. I am carried by my loving Father and I am so screwed up and weak. Here I am, healthy and feeling like I can't go on. I am ashamed. I can't fix this. But...
"I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep that which I have committed to Him against that day". (1 Tim.1:12).
I am reminded of all that God has done to get me here in spite of myself and I know it is true when I say, "Now to Him who is able to do immeasurably more than I can ask or imagine, according to His power that is at work in me, to Him be all the glory". (Eph 3:20) That allows me to be sad, to make mistakes and most of all, to place all those that I love so deeply and passionately in His arms and know that upstream, downstream or sidestream, all will be well and all will be well.
Finally, a deep breath.
Just thinking.
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