Representation Through Relationship

       Christmas - what a wonderful time of year! Recently I heard someone comment that everyone seems so much nicer around this time of year and why can't we be that way all year long, taking time to make phone calls, send gifts, bake goodies for the neighbors. I agree; I wish the Christmas spirit would last. Our Christmases are usually filled with family, food and games. As far back as I can remember, that's the way we have always celebrated Jesus' entering our world, by drawing close to each other and reacquainting ourselves with our family members who have been separated from us during the year. And it doesn't seem to matter how long it's been since we've been together. Brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins embrace, share stories, reminisce of past days and exude excitement - happy to be back together as family. It just feels good to be whole again.
       Over the holidays, I heard a Willow Creek Community Church podcast; Donald Miller was the guest speaker. During his sermon, Miller asserted that we are tied to each other through our relationships and become a representation of one another. We are one person, but we can be many different things to different people. I am a wife, a mother, a grandmother, a sister, a daughter, a counselor and a friend. When I am connected to people, I represent them. I might hear, "Oh that's Kevin's wife," or "That's Kati's, Callie's, Derick's & Ryan's mom." Whether I want to be this portrayal is not even a consideration. I AM a representation of my family and friends. When we create relationships, we are bound. I am one with my husband, Kevin, even though we have different bodies. Everywhere I go, I have the opportunity to dignify or disgrace him by how I carry myself. He and I are one; we affect each other. When I ponder this idea, I am reminded of Whose I am. How much more am I a representation of Christ, because I claim Him as my Lord?
       Miller continued by reminding that scripture tells us Jesus is not gone from this world. He has come into the world and continues to come into the world through His children, through us. Every morning when our feet hit the floor, it's Christmas morning. In essence, Christmas can be all year long. Jesus comes into the world daily through us. Paul wrote to in Colossians 1:27, "For God wanted them to know that the riches and glory of Christ lives in you. This gives you assurance of sharing His glory" (NLT). Some translations read, "Christ in you, the hope of glory." We are one with Christ although we are separate beings. As His children, we represent Christ. You represent Christ. I represent Christ.

        I'm not much into resolutions, but if I were to make one, "God of Hope" by Charlie Hall voices my resolution for this new year. It's not what I can do in myself, but what Christ can do through me. Maybe Christmas will last longer this year. (You can play the song below)

Humble Heroes

       I have just finished my second week of radiation now; almost three weeks of hormonal therapy to block cancer growth. I mention this only to help anyone who might be reading this blog who is in the course of, or about to go through, treatment for breast cancer. In all things, I believe we are to share our experiences, the good and the difficult. Notice the word choice here - it's not "good and bad." Obviously the connotation for bad is negative, down-trodden, depressing and sometimes damaging. Even though this particular journey isn't one for which I would have wished, it's not bad. (For more info on why I've begun to agree with this perspective, read some of Phillip Yancey's Where Is God When It Hurts.)When we share our journeys, this is the Blessing of Encouragement. If you know I have already been where you are about to travel, the road for you is likely to be less lonely, less terrifying. My thanks to the many who have modeled for me, who have been courageous enough to share their fears and, in doing so, have lessened mine.
       I was reading in Hebrews about the "heroes of the faith." I really like Hebrews. There is disagreement as to the authorship, but regardless of who wrote it, to me Hebrews is a whole book of encouragement, kind of like an apostle's pep-talk. After the writer finishes praising God and reminding the audience that Christ was God's Son, he reminds us that Jesus is the centerpiece of all we believe and that He was faithful to His Father in all that He was asked to do. The author tells us to not give up believing no matter what and to have faith. Then, in chapter 11, in the same manner as all the "begets"back in the Old Testament (I tend to become very lost in those), he starts naming the Heroes of Faith - Abel, Enoch, Noah, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sarah, Joseph, Moses, Rahab and the list seems to go on and on. One thing I noticed, something all of these "heroes" had in common, is that they were humble, ordinary people that never gave up. They never quit believing. "Not one of these people, even though their lives of faith were exemplary, got their hands on what was promised. God had a better plan for us: that their faith and our faith would come together to make one completed whole, their lives of faith not complete apart from ours," Hebrews 11:39-40. In chapter 12 he continues to remind us to run the race that is set before us without hinderances. Basically, don't quit.
       Society doesn't seem to view heroes in this way anymore, that perseverance, humility and sacrifice are strength and character-building. I think we've skewed heroic characteristics a bit (actually a lot) and we've lost, as a culture, an accurate picture of what a hero really looks like. Seems like today we tend to praise the power-house, money making, self-absorbed personalities flaunted in the media.  When I  frequently talk to students about their hopes and dreams, sadly, they usually involve being recognized and having lots of money.
       In Max Lucado's Traveling Light, he discusses the burden of arrogance. He reminds the reader of the biblical admonitions to embody humility and says just as the scalpel in the hands of a brilliant surgeon, or the ink in the pen of a Pulitzer-prize winning author, we are but tools in God's hands, used for His glory and for His purpose. Lucado offers a few tips to help us cultivate humility:
       1. Assess yourself honestly - Romans 12:3 "Don't cherish exaggerated ideas of yourself or your importance, but try to have a sane estimate of your capabilities by the light of the faith that God has given you."
       2. Don't take success too seriously - "When your ...silver and gold increase,...your heart will become proud," Deut. 8:13-14. Counteract this pride with reminders of the brevity of life and the frailty of wealth. Eccles. 5:15 - "He arrived naked in the womb of his mother; He'll leave in the same condition-with nothing." So Lucado says we would do better to count our money and success in a cemetery - neither will be buried with us.
       3. Celebrate the significance of others - "In humility, consider others better than yourselves," Phil. 2:3. Get over yourself.
       4. Don't demand your own parking place - "Go sit in a seat that is not important. When the host comes to you, he may say, 'Friend, move up here to a more important place.' The other guests will respect you," Luke 14:10.
       5.  Never announce your success before it occurs - "One who puts on his armor shouldn't boast like one who takes it off," 1 Kings 20:11. This is much like the warning in Proverbs about corelation between "the pride" and "the fall."
       6. Speak humbly - "Let no arrogance come from your mouth," 1 Sam 2:3. People aren't impressed with your opinions.
       7. Live at the foot of the cross - "The cross of our Lord Jesus Christ is my only reason for bragging," Gal 6:14.
My life is blessed with humble heroes (who shall remain nameless because I haven't asked their permission to name them), those people who forget themselves and stand in the gap when needed, who sacrifice their time to help without expectation of reward. And those heroes are helping me teach our students the importance of sacrifice, of looking out for others' interests before their own and taking no pride for themselves. I have a friend who has led her student organiation to adopt a worthy cause each month and to sacrifice time to raise money to celebrate the significance of others. I have a friend who visits students after hours, students who have made decisions that have led them to incarceration. My friend visits these kids because she's living an humble life at the foot of something bigger than herself, at the foot of the cross. I have a friend who works behind the scenes to orchestrate the help of others when I am not strong enough to do the tasks myself. Thank You, God, for Your blessing of these friends and how You supply through them.

   

I Look to You

       St Francis of Assisi once said, "Preach the gospel always. When necessary, use words." We do our best teaching by modeling. What you want to leave, your legacy, you need to model for others so that they "see" your life.  I have begun reading another one of Donald Miller's books, Searching For God Knows What. The latest thoughts this book has caused me to ponder are our need for acceptance. Miller speaks about a lifeboat economy, where we, as a society, decide who gets to stay in the lifeboat according to how we view one another, how we "rate" each other's value. He's not saying this is how it SHOULD be; just this is how life is. This is the premise for the groups in which we gather, the cliques that occur, the walls we build. I see this everyday at school. It's heartbreaking. There's a lot of research and literature on Female Relational Aggression, but it 's not only the girls. The young men of our schools vie for position, some being left out to seek company of another cluster. But they only do this because they have seen it modeled - in us.
       Each day we travel to our places of employment, seek out our sections of of society, and we vie for position, evaluating each other by our differences. I'm not trying to be depressing; I've just been thinking about how I have been modeling acceptance lately. Miller writes, "What we commonly think of as love is really the desire to be loved...when I want somebody to like me, I am really wanting them to say that I am redeemed, that I am not a loser, that I can stay in the boat." Imagine what it would be like if we all believed and trusted in God's redemption, if we all believed that we were really loved and accepted. The people who are mega-rich would be generous and help others without expecting anything in return. We would associate with those who are not like us and seek how we could help each other. We would begin to see each other through His eyes, rather than the evaluative scale we so commonly utilize. We would actually model God's love. Miller continues by reminding his readers that even King David danced naked before the Lord in worship. His wife thought he was crazy and so did all the other people who saw, but David had lost his inhibitions and was giving all he had to praise his God. There is a certain feeling, a freeing, in getting our redemption from God and not from other people. "It is absolutely clear that God has called you to a free life. Just make sure that you don't use this freedom as an excuse to do whatever you want to do and destroy your freedom. Rather, use your freedom to serve one another in love; that's how freedom grows." Galatians 5:13 (The Message)

Coach Burnett and his new baby.

       This past Friday night was an auspicious occasion for me. I had the privilege to be a close part of the Warrior football team, pre-game. Coach Burnett relayed that the coaches and young men had talked and agreed to name me their "Educator of the Week." I was honored. They presented me with a football jersey that I would wear on Friday to the pep rally and that evening to the game. I was invited to come into the locker room before the game and be a part of the coaches' prayer time, then walk into the field house and share in the prayer time and inspiration with the team. As Kevin and I sat with the coaches before speaking to the young men who waited, it was a bit awkward. We sat and did what comes naturally when there is silence - we sparred and made light jokes. I wasn't thinking about the details and had yet to realize the planning that had been purposefully worked to honor the Educator of the Week. That was until Dillon came into the coach's office. Our quarterback had donned his orange Honey Grove Warrior jersey, but it was what he was wearing in addition to his uniform that caught my eye. Pink socks, pink shoestrings and a pink bracelet - "Fight for Mrs. Weaver." My tears came freely. Coach Burnett spoke to the young warriors of faith and believing and being blessed. It was in that moment that there were no groups, no separations; just all of us, respecting, honoring, and loving each other and I felt like I had a huge family of brothers who were making sure I knew how much they cared for me. I was honored, but not in the way you might think. I was honored to be a part of such an intimate time in this family. It wasn't about who I was, but how I was accepted. Our Warriors stole the game that night, 50-0. And among the least of these, I was blessed.
"For there is no distinction between Jew and Greek; for the same Lord is Lord of all, bestowing His riches on all who call on Him." Romans 10:12

Enjoy another one of my favs in music, Selah, singing "I Look to You," giving testimony to how God supplies our need for acceptance.

You Will Seek Me and I Will Recognize Your Voice

Sometimes it's clear to me that I need to be writing, but exactly what I'm supposed to be writing at times is my question. I've been wondering lately about that which elicits emotion. What I have learned is when we swell with sadness, anger, fear, or laughter, it is because we relate; it is a matter close to our hearts. One of my professors, coaching me during client sessions, told me to "watch for the emotion." She explained that emotion is the door to the heart of the matter. When you see emotion, you're close to what matters. But sometimes that's the very thing we try to hide. Most people are not comfortable with emotion; hence, emotions are labeled, denied and much of the time, buried.

Maybe it's because emotion is sometimes difficult to control, to regulate, once the stream begins to flow. It could be about a recent loss - death, divorce, end of a relationship, or ....cancer. Lately I have had a world of loving friends who desire to do something, to be active in helping me in some way. What a wonderful blessing they are to me - I could build a house of cards, I have added to my wonderfully overflowing library books of faith, health and supplements, and I have a freezer full of food. I am "most blessed" in the realm of caring friends and family. But something I have observed is that for all of the love I have been given, for the most part, my friends and family steer clear of emotion. And if I have to be honest, so do I. Emotions can be scary. Sometimes I think we're afraid others won't validate our emotions because they might be ill at ease. But I believe relationships without the expression of emotion will eventually die. Emotions can be the well of ink that writes the beauty of our hearts, communicating it to others. In one of Donald Miller's books, Searching For God Knows What, he mentions a man, John Sailhamer, who taught him much about Moses' authoring the book of Genesis. He said Moses would all of a sudden break into poetry in the middle of a narrative "because there are emotions and situations and tensions that a human being feels in his life but can't explain. And poetry is a literary tool that has the power to give a person the feeling he isn't alone in those emotions, that, though there are no words to describe them, somebody understands," (Miller, p 55).

It's a difficult task, to want to make things right, but to stand powerless. So with hands tied, it leaves great expanses of time to ponder the meaning of where I am and what it means to be where I am. Lots of time. Much of that time is silent, asking God to simply prepare me for what's next. I've grown to be comfortable with silence. Silence is when I hear much of what God has been trying to tell me, wanting to give me a comforting truth or trying to pat my shoulder to let me know He's there, sitting beside me. Silence is not just golden, it's good. So I enjoy the silence, on my front porch rocker, petting Sir Thomas, my cat, not saying a word. I think Sir Thomas likes it, too.

I will close with a Psalm God gave my attention to this morning while I was thinking about poetry in God's Word and how God yearns to speak to my heart, how He yearns to have a relationship with me where we can talk, cry, laugh, sing or simply rock on my front porch with Sir Thomas in silence.

 Psalm 119:169-176 (The Message):
"Let my cry come right into Your presence, God. Provide me with the insight that comes only from Your Word. Give my request Your personal attention, rescue me on the terms of Your promise. Let praise cascade off my lips; after all, You've taught me the truth about life. Let Your promises ring from my tongue; every order You've given is right. Put Your hand out and steady me since I have chosen to live by Your counsel. I am homesick for Your salvation. I love it when You show Yourself. Invigorate my soul so I can praise You well. Use Your decrees to put iron in my soul. Should I wander off like a lost sheep, seek me. I will recognize the sound of Your voice."

I Hope You See Jesus

       We are relational beings. We need others and we were made to seek companionship. In my short life, God has taught me that this is what my life is to be about - having a relationship with Him and then loving others. It's difficult to live in a world that promotes wealth, happiness and the American dream and still remember, it's not about the stuff. It's not even about me. Those things are temporary and if I want to find real contentment, real joy, I have to be willing to let go of the temporary. Even though I may use a "bucket list" concept to make sure I don't forget to live while I'm here, I know that even my someday list won't complete me. And my list needs to incorporate relationships.
       If you know me, you also know that music is a huge part of my world. Bebo Norman is one of my favorite artists. One of the songs he recorded is titled, "I Hope You See Jesus." It's become a motto. Here are the lyrics:


Instead of fear, Instead of blinded eyes, Instead of shame, Instead of all my lies, Instead of an orphan without a name,
I hope you see Jesus

Instead of anger, Instead of unbelief, Instead of weakness in the heart of me, Instead of a wounded soul who sometimes loses faith,
I hope you see Jesus

I hope you see Jesus, I hope you see Jesus
Standing in my place, bearing all my shame
I hope you see Jesus

Instead of voices in a faceless crowd, Instead of prophets crying out from behind a shrowd
Instead of fingers pointing out the blame,
I hope you see Jesus

I hope you see Jesus, I hope you see Jesus
Standing in my place, bearing all my shame

I hope you see Jesus

I hope you see love, I hope you see love, I hope you see love

Oh, my God when you look on us, a broken people who have turned from love
Instead of words we throw and the wars we wage,
I hope You forgive us. I hope You see Jesus.

I hope you see Jesus , I hope you see Jesus
Standing in our place, bearing all our shame
I hope you see Jesus

Here's the actual artist, presenting one of his finest. Enjoy!

How May I Help You?

     A little over a week ago, God orchestrated a pretty amazing day for me and it's taken me this long to realize exactly what all He did. In one day I had an appointment with my surgeon in one city and was supposed to meet at McKinney Cancer Center to go through necessary scans to help diagnose and set up my future treatment. So here's how that went...
     I received a call from the Cancer Center on the way to see my surgeon. The voice on the other end of my cell phone said that the cancer center had been forced to close and they were at the moment trying to find a place for me to receive the scans I needed before my treatment determination could be complete. Ok, God. This is Yours, too. I said a prayer -  not really for God to handle it, because I knew He was going to supply my needs. The prayer was actually for me so I would continue to act like I believed He was going to handle all my needs. "And God, please help me not to puke or otherwise be sick in this car." Then I told Kevin, who (thankfully) was driving for me, that everything was going to be okay. We still had an appointment to make with my surgeon.
     After what my surgeon called remarkable recovery, he walked me to his receptionist's desk following my checkup, I thought, to make my next appointment. I remember thinking I had really outdone myself. Yes! I've followed directions, I've eaten well, and I'm really going to fly through this like gang-busters! Now on to the the next challenge. I can do it! What he handed me at the appointment desk was unexpected. "I want to share something with you that I think could help," he said as he slipped a small hardback book into my hand. Help ME? I thought he said I was doing a good (correction "great") job of taking care of myself? He went on to explain that a former breast cancer patient was kind enough to share this book with his office and he had subsequently loaned the book out as he saw a need. "Just take your time reading it, let it sink in and bring it back when you're through so I can continue to pass it along." You know, my roles have really changed.  I'm quite used to seeing "those kids" who need encouragement and often I recommend books if I believe they might help. After all, I know how to GIVE encouragement; it's kind of my occupation. But now, my doctor is handing ME a "help" book. I wonder if I gave him the same look that some of my kids give me when I make the offer they really can't refuse? What are they going to say? "No, I'd rather not have help?" Like me with my kids, I wonder if my surgeon silently questioned as to whether I would read the book or not? But regardless, he's taking the risk that I will bring it back and he won't have to invest in another copy. I looked down at the bright orange and pink cover of Thanks for the Mammogram. Then I wondered some more. It wasn't huge; probably one, two days tops. How hard could it be to get through?
     On to scene two. At that moment, the cancer center called and they found a way to complete two of the three scans I needed and were still looking for a place to take me for the big one. My surgeon and his nurses graciously jumped into the conversation and began searching places around their offices for me to have a full body bone scan. We thanked the nurses and doctor for their help and with book in hand, we left to drive to the Cancer Center to have two scans, thinking we would then be driving back to my surgeon's office for the last scan of the day. "Still, God is handling everything," I kept telling myself. "It's all gonna' be okay." On the 45 minute drive to the center, I began the task my surgeon had given me. Sometimes I think too much. Before I had even opened the cover, I wondered what the surgeon knew that I didn't. What was he not telling me? Why did he think I wasn't going to make it very well if I didn't read this book? What weakness did he see in me that I did not see? Sometimes, thinking too much is counterproductive.
     From the Foreward and Acknowledgements, I realized that Laura Jensen Walker, author of Thanks for the Mammogam, was a breast cancer survivor and through this book, she was going to help me find humor and the healing it brings. In reading her words, she sounded like a person I would want to be around, simply because she doesn't take herself too seriously, she cares for others and she likes to laugh. Okay, this might be cool. I probably could use a little levity right now. That realization came just before my cell phone rang again and the Cancer Center reported that they had located a place for me to complete the last of my scans and I wouldn't have to go far - just right across the street from the cancer center. "My God will supply all your needs according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus." That's Philippians 4:19. It's awesome and The Message version is even moreso - "You can be sure that God will take care of everything you need, His generosity exceeding even yours in the glory that pours from Jesus."
     Because of these orchestrated interruptions in what I had planned for my day, God was able to guide me to help from my surgeon, to completion of the scans I needed, to a surprise visit to my future Radiology Oncologist's office, and to a place in my mind where I, the helper, admitted I needed help. Help from my husband, help from my surgeon, help from B.J., the scheduling receptionist at the cancer center, help from the humor of a former breast cancer survivor. And it's okay.
     Sometimes, for whatever reason, we say everything is alright, but it's not. And people can tell. There are times when we feel we have to keep it all together, but others can easily see that we are kind of falling apart. My Father said, "My grace is sufficient for you. My grace is perfected in your weakness." 2 Corinthians 12:9 So when I am weak, He is strong and He is maginified in my life. God sends all kinds of opportunities our way so He can give us help in our times of need. It really doesn't matter what we're going through. What matters is that we do finally realize that God is there, has been there all along, and wants to help us when we bring ourselves to the point where we don't mind admitting that we can't do it all. As Laura Jensen Walker said, "Take off the Super Woman cape."

On Being a Patient Patient

Yes,  I'm talking about both the people and the "Puritanically coined" virtue. [sidenote 1: both patience and patients stem ultimately from the Latin word(s), "pati" and/or "patior" meaning "to suffer" or "forebear."] [sidenote 2: I like words.]

Last week I had the privilege and excrutiatingly painful experience of walking through the doors of McKinney Regional Cancer Center for the first and the last time as a patient. And I think that, for the first time, my mind grasped that we view some life-encounters quite differently when we are truly written into the narrative, unlike when we are merely readers of the story. Before, as much as I supported and loved Kevin, my husband, when he was enduring chemotherapy and radiation, I wasn't the patient. Don't misunderstand me, the life of a care-giver is truly anxiety-filled, among other things. But no matter how many knots I grew in my stomach, mine weren't the eyes that nervously counted the ceiling tiles in the Nuclear medicine chamber as the machines hum-whizzed back and forth to bring hoped-for results. My skin did not burn with the countless xrays of eventual healing. My veins did not traffic the poison that ironically, yet slowly, would bring new life. Kevin lived it. It was his story. I loved, but I watched. Last week, I looked at Kevin and smiled as we walked through the cancer center doors once again. Then we switched roles.

For anyone who has ever encountered the McKinney Regional Cancer Center, you know what I mean when I say, "It's family, and you're part of it." Almost every employee of MRCC knows my family, all of us who have entered, by our first names (with the exception of Dr. W who lovingly referrs to Kevin by his middle name, Von).  :)  When you walk through the strong, hand crafted, wooden double-doors, extensive collections of oils on canvas greet you to sit and relax. There is no "office furniture." While you wait, which is never for an extended amount of time, you rest on over-sized couches and chairs that hug your body. You are not called back to an examination room Your nurse comes out to meet you, to sit with you and then escorts you to your doctor's room. The exam room is pleasant, uncluttered and clean. Your nurse inquires of your daughter who has just begun college, asking about her by name. Your doctor asks you for a reference for a good "off-season" basketball program for his own daughter! You laugh, you smile, you share good news, desperate news, and you hug. As much as you dread having to be treated, you're glad to be helped by family. As you leave the center, you know they remember you in their prayers and frequently ask for you to remember them in yours. Family intercedes for one another.

This visit, which I classified as my first and my last as a cancer patient at MRCC, proved ceremonious. (Not knowing where to cast the blame, I will simply say that after having loved numerous cancer patients and victims for close to 30 years, MRCC was forced to close its doors this month.) Kevin and I walked the hallways one last time, relaxing with the art we have so come to know and love. We took our own photos, like we could ever forget what is locked away in the recesses of our memories. We hugged our "family" and took our medical records to hold them until our doctor and his nurses have found a place to light. Patience.

What I have gathered, in this span of just over three years with MRCC, is that I have learned grace and strength. I have received and given compassion. I have seen hope transferred through the eyes of my family. Yet I believe the greatest of all my lessons learned, is the patience you take with those you love. My memories flood... I studied patience as a young man held an elderly woman close to his chest, as if she were his grandma, wiping her brow with a cold rag, waiting for her bus transportation to take her back, undoubtedly, to an empty apartment. The young man, Shawn, was her radiologist; not her grandson. I listened to Nurse Marlene patiently reassure the frantic woman on the other end of the phone, who needed desperately to see her doctor. He will be unavailable for a short while, but here is what we can do for you in the meantime...  I breathed a sigh of relief as, patiently, Dr. Wyszynski took Kevin by his shoulders and said, "You're gonna' live, Von. Isn't that great news?" Love and Patience.

Our doctor, Dr. Whiz, as we lovingly call him, has provided a path for me "in the meantime." Until I see him again, which he confidently informed me would be in no more than three weeks, I am to gain strength, be hopeful and be thankful. My scans (PET, MRI, CT, full body) were clear. "Isn't that great news, Christine?" Now we wait (patiently) for treatment plans which will come with the next test results.  Be strong. Be hopeful. Be thankful. Be patient.

Romans 8:24b-28 "(If we already have something, we don't need to hope for it. But if we look forward to something we don't have yet, we must wait patiently and confidently.) The Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. Like when we don't know what God wants us to pray for. The Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words. And the Father already knows our hearts and He knows what the Spirit is saying, for the Spirit pleads for us in harmony with God's own will. We know that God causes all things to work together for the good of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them." NLT version

Donald Miller - What a Timely Reminder

Nothing here is from me, guys. I'm simply reposting from a great writer, Donald Miller, something that is refreshing to hear. Please go and enjoy

A Reminder that Beauty Comes from Pain | Donald Miller's Blog

http://donmilleris.com/2011/09/26/the-be...

Swim

    Have you read Donald Miller? Kevin introduced me to his work several years ago. I have enjoyed every book I've read from Miller and now I enjoy his blog. The following quote is from one of Donald Miller's posts .... "Jesus is very comfortable with us not understanding Him. This seems like an injustice in an age where every Sunday we have things explained to us and have our control increased over whatever dynamic we face. But “understanding” is not a character trait that Jesus seems to value. He’s not praising the smarties. Instead, he’s pleased with the faithful, those who will follow when there seems to be no reason to follow, and when it looks like they are going to have to do a hard thing and there’s no way out." 
    This reminds me of a story Kevin has told me many times over; but each time he tells it, it's still fresh. That's because it's about life lessons. He tells the story of growing up with very little in the way of material things. Yet his parents were resourceful and Kevin says, as a child, he never remembers worrying about what he needed. He just always knew what he needed would be provided. In this particular story, Kevin and his dad were fishing in "homemeade" boats - basically inner tubes, sewn together denim "boat-seats", and...that's it. They floated Atoka Lake for hours, catching catfish, stringing them and trailing it behind their individual water vessels. About 3 strung catfish into the trip, Kevin heard a distinct "hissing." When he inquired of his dad, the "hissing" was quickly explained away with the best description possibly being that one of the catfish's inner floats had probably been punctured. To a 12 year old boy, that was good enough. After all, Dad said it; it had to be true. In a few moments, Kevin's "boat" began to sink. What his dad quickly realized was that there was no punctured catfish's float. Their own "floats" had been punctured by one of these whiskered bottom-feeders!  There they were, sinking in the lake, at least a quarter of a mile from shore. There really wasn't anything to do but swim. Kevin recalls that his dad calmly told him that they were going to see how far they could swim. So that's what they began to do. With his father behind him, giving him a push after every other stroke when Kevin got tired, the two of them gradually did make it to shore. Kevin doesn't remember being scared or really being that tired after the "adventure," as he fondly remembers it. He only realized the seriousness of their plight when he saw his dad stretched out on the shore for quite awhile, coughing, gasping for air, trying to catch his breath, and I'm sure, thanking God for protection. Later, his dad shared with Kevin that he thought they were going to drown that day.  But Kevin was never even concerned. All Kevin said was, "I was with my dad. I knew I was going to be alright."
    Kevin didn't have to understand how far they were from shore. He didn't have to question his dad about his swimming abilities.  He never felt compelled to ask if there "was a better way" of getting to safety. He simply trusted his father. That's it. I think this fits so well with the part of Donald Miller's post above. Jesus wasn't concerned with how much his disciples knew, who their parents were or how many credentials they had. What pleased him was their belief in Him. They were with Jesus, doing hard things. Because they believed in Jesus, giving up wasn't an option.
    These stories give me reason to pause and reflect. When I encounter trials, like the cancer diagnosis and pending treatment I am in the midst of now, do I "consider it joy" knowing that my perseverance is about to increase? Do I look forward to enduring the trial knowing that God has given me an incredible faith that pleases Him? Do I realize that it's okay because my Father is with me and He'll give me a push when I'm tired and think I can't go on? With all the glory going to God, I believe I do.


Here I've shared a music video with you from Jacks Mannequin, " Swim." Kevin shared this with me about three years ago. It's a song that meant a lot to him when he fought his own battle with cancer. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

In the Meantime

First, I will begin by giving thanks to my God. I truly believe it's where we all need to begin, by being thankful. He allowed me a great report from my surgeon this past Monday. My surgeon said he will remove sutures this Thursday and to keep "doing what I'm doing" so my wounds would heal. I've been "doing" almost nothing, compared to a normal day. After the appointment with my surgeon, I then visited my oncologist who said, "We will call when we've scheduled your scans. In the meantime, be sure to get a lot of rest," which translates to, "wait and do more of nothing."

I'm not a good waiter. Not that I couldn't work in a restaurant (actually that was a childhood aspiration). I am not good at the task of waiting. This is no surprise to me; I've known this for awhile. But as you know, talking about something because you know "of it" and actually "doing it" are worlds apart. While you're "doing nothing," you have lots of time to think, to ponder, to rethink, to re-ponder. By this time, it's about mid-morning, and now what?

As most of you know, I am a high school counselor. I absolutely love my job! That's because it's really not just a job for me; it's one of my callings. There are no normal days as a school counselor and usually I'm on the go for seven or eight straight hours each day. My duties vary from actually getting to talk to kids who need guidance, to scheduling, to testing, to setting up college & career plans with seniors. One thing I do know about myself - I attack whatever endeavor is on the agenda for the day. I don't like to quit until I'm finished; but you can't do that very often in my line of work. Every now and then, I become overwhelmed with the simultaneous goings-on. It's then that I slow down long enough to ask for advice and clarity as to my list of priorities. Last year during one of "those times," my superintendent, who also happens to be a dear friend, suggested, "Have you ever thought about making a 'Not To Do List?'" (pause-nod head as if I understand) But I have to admit, at first I thought he was being a little condescending. "How dare he think that anything I'm doing is not important enough TO DO?" (Sorry. I now see that my perspective was really self-absorbed.) Lately with all this time to ponder, in this "meantime," I think I'm finally getting the meaning of a "not-to-do list."

In the meantime actually means, "the time in between" or "the time span between two events." I'm kind of in a waiting room. But I think it's all a matter of perspective - the waiting room, that is. For the "unsure," waiting can be treacherous. For the "faint of heart," the meantime is draining. But for the "seeker," this time is for ripening, for learning, for listening. It's a time to reflect, renew, rewrite the "not-to-do-list."

We can fill our schedules with lots of "stuff." Stopping ocassionally to prioritize is a necessity; and when we prioritize, invariably some "stuff" is going to sink to the bottom of the list. Either the item really isn't  important or someone else may need to add it to his/her "To Do List." Right now, I am actually making a list. A friend of mine is standing in the gap for me while I'm in the waiting room. All I want her to do is what is MOST important, so I'm not giving her my "not-to-do-list."

I'd like to end this blog with thoughts I read from a blog I've just begun to follow. This is from Daniel Darling's blog. He's a pastor, speaker and author. Here's what he said about waiting (my paraphrase):

"What To Do While You Wait"

1. Recognize that God is in control, even when it seems at times like He has forgotten you. Often when it seems like nothing is happening, a lot is happening behind the scenes; you just can't always see it.

2. Renew your faith in God and in His guidance. Many major figures in the Bible had to wait on God to bring them to the moment they were waiting for - Abraham, Moses, Joseph, David. Even Jesus said, "My time has not yet come." Jesus knew how to wait.

3. Redeem the time while you wait. James 1:2-4 says, "Consider it a gift, friends, when tests and challenges come at you from all sides. You know that under pressure, your faith-life is forced into the open and shows its true colors. So don't try to get out of anything prematurely. Let it do its work so you become mature and well-developed, not deficient in any way." (That's from The Message - I love that translation.)

Until next time, I'll be here, in the waiting room.

Here I Raise My Ebenezer

About an hour ago I waved good-bye to my 90-year old grandma and my uncle. My grandma, one of my heroes, cooked beef stew, buttery cornbread and her famous vanilla pound cake for Kevin and me, and then she drove one and a half hours to bring it to us. My uncle is probably more like my brother because he is only nine years older than me. We grew up together for much of my childhood. He now lives with his mom, my grandma, helping to take care of her. But truth be told, they really take care of each other. My uncle has always been pretty quiet, reserved and non-emotional. I think I might have only seen my uncle cry three times in my life - when his dad, Papaw, died about 12 years ago. The first time was at Papaw's funeral. The second time was when his baby girl died of a heart defect when she was only two. The third time was today when I hugged him and said good-bye. I was so taken aback; I didn't know how to respond. What does it say about us that we are shaken when those closest to us express deep emotion? I had to ask myself, "What is it about ME that I am unnerved when people cry over me?" No fancy words for it. Pretty much, something was out of the norm and I think I was just plain scared.

It was just the other day that I talked to both of my daughters about being afraid. I shared with them what God spoke to my heart about Paul's letter to Timothy (2 Tim 1:7) "For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind." I told Kati and Callie I believe God provides peace against things that can cause us to be afraid, that He gives discernment to us so we can know what is from Him and what is not, so that we can separate ourselves from things that would pull us away from His desires for us. Sometimes, when I catch my mind wandering toward the dank, dark vaccum of fear, I compose a list of how God has blessed me. Some might see this as running from my fears or avoiding the issues of my anxiety. It's not. This is simply strengthening the foundation of my faith.

Besides the scrumptious spread of food Grandma made for us, my uncle handed me a gift that my Aunt Bev had sent for me. It was a rock. But more than a rock, it was a monument. This rock took me back - to times God has rescued me, to moments when He lifted me out of the mire of my bad decisions and washed me clean. Here's the picture :

Ebenezer (Stone of Help) "Thus far has the Lord helped us," 1 Samuel 7:12

The story, as you can see above, is told in 1 Samuel and you can read it for yourself. This scripture speaks peace to me. Even though I've never had a Philistine army chasing me. Even though I've never had a time when God brought thunder to chase away my enemies. This scripture reminds me of a God who, in addition to being my Heavenly Father, provided an earthly father for me when I had none. I remember a God who called me to be His own ten years later.  I remember a God who healed a broken family and mended a marriage. I remember a God who walked beside me while my husband and best friend endured a surgery and a year of treatment to remove a life-stealing cancer. I remember a God who put a song in my mouth, who put hope in my heart, who renewed my strength after I was told, "I'm afraid it is malignant."

So "here I raise my Ebenezer." Here I say, "I remember, God. You've helped me all the way to here. So I trust that You won't stop now."

Out of the Mouths of (My) Babes

Today I read some more in a book I've been enjoying, The Hole in Our Gospel, by Richard Stearns. My daughter, Kati, turned me on to this book when I saw the life change she experienced, first by reading it and then by acting upon what she read. This summer, Kati joined a group of people on mission with a heart for the people of Pietermaritzburg in South Africa. For ten days she served the broken, fed the hungry and clothed the naked. I watched her face as she told me about kids who wanted their pictures taken because they never get to see their own countenances. I felt through her tears the heartbreak for the young women of this village who are led into prostitution to provide food for their families and then, maybe only a couple of meager meals a week. I heard disgust in her voice as she spoke of her own comfort in comparison to those she had come to love in Pietermaritzburg.

You know, as a parent, I have always dreamed of how I was going to teach my children all of the lessons of life. I imagined how they would look to me, in awe, as I taught them to ride their bikes and tie their Nikes. I wanted to be the source of information, the fount of knowledge. But as I have aged, God has shown me that one of the reasons He blessed me with children was to teach ME. Child-like faith seems to evade us as we age, along with child-like dreams. Instead of the positive change we should be seeing in our visions, we tend to focus on the impossibilities in our paths, the hurdles we will have to leap. That usually zaps most of our energy. Kati had no reservations that God wanted her to be in South Africa in July of 2011. She wasted no energy in doubting that God would provide any financial support and physical protection to make this trip that would change her heart and life. In fact, the only surprise she discovered was that God blessed her heart so much more in comparison than the blessing she intended to bring to those to whom she ministered. Funny how God works, huh? So here I sat, the mom, at the feet of the daughter, to learn of the God I was supposed to be teaching my daughter about. All I can say is, "Cool. What child-like faith."

Today I began in chapter four of The Hole in Our Gospel, and was faced with the question, "Are you willing to be open to God's will for your life?" I don't know about you, but for most of my life, the people I've gone to church with acted like that was a mystical question. When they talked about God's will, it was almost as if you had to be the "chosen one" to find the answer. Maybe I have to go to Africa? Maybe I had to marry a preacher? I don't believe that anymore. Something I have learned is that if I am open, if I am in touch with His Spirit, I can be used wherever I am, whenever He chooses, with whatever I have. "He has showed you, O man, what is good. And what does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God," Micah 6:8. Stearns teaches in this chapter that God does expect our lives to be chacterized by these "signs of our own transformation: compassion, mercy, justice, and love - demonstrated tangibly." This is God's will for my life.

They Desire A Better Place

     On July 12, 2011,  I made a check-up trip with Kevin to his oncologist for his semi-annual cancer scans. Back in 2008 when he was first diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma, I grew to be close friends with the "miracle workers" of the McKinney Regional Cancer Center (now renamed Texas Health Oncology Center). Throughout Kevin's treatment and recovery, he blogged. Now blogging isn't unfamiliar to me; as a school counselor I have encouraged my students to journal their thoughts, release their fears, take power in words. That's what Kevin began doing and I have to admit, I became an avid follower. And although I encouraged him to "write more so I can read," I had not been "practicing what I had been preaching." I had not taken time to record my thoughts, to admit my fears. So on that day, BlackBerry in hand, sitting alone in a crowded waiting room, I commenced to face my fears and nausea  head-on through the power of words in a little Memo Application. Here's what I wrote:

There's really no lonelier place for me than here in the cancer center. No matter how strong I think I am or how prepared I feel, emotions rush, learned fears overwhelm. I speak my anxiety to no one because I don't want pity. It's not ME who has cancer. When I ask God to take "me" out of the equation because I am not the focus, I realize - this should not be my request. In my "equation," much like an experiment, God is the constant. My situation is the variable. In my mind, I know that visible faith should be the outcome - but what is visible faith? Visible faith cannot be emotion-less, or else it would not involve humanity. Is visible faith the conquering of fear? Is it strength against the unknown news lurking to pounce in the not-so-distant future? Total surrender? None of these concepts equate with innate character. Who really embodies visible faith?

I cynically remember friends, acquaintances rather, who calmly advise, almost in a sing-song chant, "God is in control. Just have faith." Unwavering smiles, relaxed countenances. I return a fake smile. I yearn to angrily rant, "I KNOW He is in control. He wouldn't be GOD if HE weren't in control!" I think my "friends" aren't living in the gamut of human emotion they WILL face, not IF He chooses to allow disease or death, but WHEN He chooses to allow it. Is visible faith really found in the words, "God is in control?" "Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things NOT seen," Hebrews 11:1. How can I bring visibility to my little faith?

Faith is visible when I believe strongly enough that I do what is only in my wldest imagination, like Noah's building an ark before ever seeing or knowing of a raindrop. Visible faith could be going, not knowing. It could be believing in impossible odds. Maybe visible faith is freely giving up what I have come to treasure. For what? "For people who speak thus make it clear that they seek a homeland. If they had been thinking of this world, they could have easily returned to it. But they desire a better place, a heavenly one. God is not ashamed to be called their God and He has prepared a place for them," Hebrews 11:14-16.

What I feel here, in this place, in this cancer center, is the reverse of what my "home" will one day be. Completion instead of loneliness. Calm replacing anxiety. Sadness turned to joy. Light illuminating darkness. Reunion restored after separation. I imagine John's exhilaration while in exile on the island of Patmos, beholding the revelation of God. The sea stood as barrier keeping him from his home, his loved ones. But God showed John, "...and the sea was no more." Revelation 21:1.

On Monday, August 29, 2011, I received news that I am now a fellow cancer patient with my husband. Surprisingly, I don't feel as though I'm on the island. I don't feel the way I felt that day in the cancer center. I believe God was preparing my heart that day as I searched for a way to explain what I thought cancer looked like from the outside looking in. But as I stepped through that barrier on Monday, I didn't go alone. God stepped through with me. He has told me that I will begin a journey, but that He will walk beside me. And He assured me that He really IS in control (and not in a sing-song voice).  :) 
<p<ahref="http://www.freedigitalphotos.net/images/view_ photog.php?photogid=1256">Image: Evgeni Dinev / FreeDigitalPhotos.net</a></p>