I read an article the other day about decision fatigue.

The writer described how reducing the number of things in her home also reduced the number of decisions she needed to make each day. She related it to chronic illness and pain as well, and emphasized how simplifying routines, schedules, and tasks all added up to less stress and less fatigue. I’ve been pondering this and paying attention to the decisions that naturally appear in my day.

Here’s an example from just this morning, a few minutes after waking:

Should I make coffee first or take time to make breakfast?

Should I eat before taking Gravol or after? (current digestion issues)

What should I wear? Am I going out today or staying home?

Do I answer these texts and emails before breakfast or after?

Not a very restful way to start the day.

All day long, we are faced with decisions that affect our health, mood, ability to care for ourselves and others, and if we are not careful and intentional, we can be distracted so easily, and decision fatigue can set in.

Even though my life is pretty simple, my brain can get cluttered, and that can affect my health, so I’ve been looking for ways that little daily decisions have become heavy for me, creating stress where it doesn’t need to be. Call it a … spring cleaning of the mind.

So here’s what I’ve come up with as areas that need some attention:

• Take nausea medication before breakfast (not if/when nausea hits), just take it. That’s what works for now.

• Have pre-made food ready that I can easily digest. Prioritize time to prepare this.

• Limit any health research/scrolling to stop before 7 pm.

• Save the evening for relaxing activities and creativity.

• Reserve space (on the calendar) before and after events to rest.

• Choose priorities for the week and don’t add more to the list unless something is accomplished.

• Choose clothes the night before and set out for the morning.

• If possible, set a theme for each day: Monday (home), Tuesday (paperwork), Wednesday (errands/people), etc., as a structure or scaffolding to help organize the week. Then, as random requests come up, tasks can be sorted among the days.

I know that each of us has very different lives, and what we choose and what is asked of us is all very different. So, you may not relate to this at all, or maybe it piques an interest for you to do some spring cleaning of your own mind/heart/home.

Whatever you choose, I hope that the burdens you carry will feel a little lighter.

It’s not something I usually say, but at the time, it was just right.

My husband asked me how I was feeling, and as I had been writing many pages in my journal that morning, I was acutely aware of my newfound joy.

This past week, I had a CT scan to search for why my remaining small intestine is refusing to process anything more than blended foods. The results came back that there is a small narrowing of the intestine right near the opening to the stoma (where my ostomy bag attaches). It is as if the intestine is twist-tied off right before the exit. This would explain why I feel nauseated when I eat and why anything more than soup or pudding is too thick to get through the system without pain and medication. Two months ago, I could eat almost anything, crunchy apples, salad, steak, potatoes…as long as I chewed it well, no problem. Now, I’m eating baby food. Something changed.

When I read the results online, I took a deep breath, anticipating either good or bad news. On one hand, I wanted something to name and blame these symptoms on and on the other hand, “normal” is also nice to read.

This news is both.

It’s about this happening right before the first anniversary since my last surgery (I was hoping to make a full loop around the calendar year). It’s about the unknown, waiting, enduring space where chronic illness lives. It’s about patience, more appointments, more doctors…but also it’s about gratefulness, creativity and wanting to make sure this gets ordered into the rightful spot in my heart and mind.

Over the past 30 + years of chronic illness, I’ve learned that these moments cannot shape my whole existence. Checking test results needs to be only one of the many things that I focus on. That’s where the word ‘rejoice’ came from the other day.

I had been thinking about my hopes to continue feeling good and to start my counselling practicum a few months ago, but then that fell through. Then this month, I was hoping to take my final course on neurobiology, but it just got postponed by six months. My calendar has emptied, providing all the time I need to care for my body’s pain and nausea and specific food requirements.

As I wrote pages and pages in my journal that day, I felt both these good and hard realities.

Then, I was reminded of Jesus’ words:

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you, there is more of God and his rule.

You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.” (Matthew 5:1-8)

And I began to feel joy. Real joy.

Experiencing loss and pain opens up this strange and beautiful opportunity to trust God in these places of the unknown. Of course, I wish that my body would finally close the chapter on pain and illness, but it just doesn’t seem to be done with it yet. I can kick and scream and complain, but Jesus reminds me that there is another way, and in trusting Him and looking to him for the meaning of life, joy, love, peace and purpose, He makes good on His promises! He can be trusted!

It makes me wonder where I (and the loved ones around me) may be missing out on all that God has for us because we refuse to let go of that one thing that we value more, that one thing we are afraid to lose. Let’s open our hands and see what we are holding.

I have been enjoying this book by Kimberly Phinney, who understands chronic pain and illness, loss and grief, but lives with hope and a refreshing honesty. I’d highly recommend it and all her other books as well.

Click here to purchase on Amazon (no financial connection to this blog - just highly recommending).

The walk felt good, cautious not to slip, and the back alley had just enough crunchy snow that I could safely find my footing.

But it was bleak. No dramatic light or shadows. Plants stood alone, dried out and frozen. Everything was motionless.

But something is happening …

Loss and the dying of things/dreams/hopes/expectations must be a full season. It must be.

As an optimist, I tend to want to jump ahead, looking for brightness, life, hope, goodness.

However, as I wandered down the back alley and observed that everything was still in a season of loss, waiting… I was struck with the realization that seeing it, naming it, and letting it be a loss is necessary for hope.

Are you experiencing loss? Can you name it?

I named a few this week:

• health

• ability to eat solid food

• pain/stronger meds again

• unable to spend time with people I love

• postponing my practicum

It’s hard for me to name these and admit that, for now, this is my reality.

I’ve had such a good year since my surgery, my health slowly increasing (not decreasing) in strength and energy. It’s been a rare season and one that I have been cherishing. So, it’s been frustrating and sad to imagine that perhaps that increase in health is done and that I’m facing complications again.

Allowing myself to name the losses and grieve them reminds me that they, like the plants, cannot provide any life or sustenance. No leaves are growing, no berries. They sit there, cold and dry.

But something is happening. It’s always happening.

“My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life.” Psalm 119:50

God has been reminding me that He is always at work. He is allowing seeds to drop to the ground, lying dormant for a season that will spring up into vibrant, new life when the snow melts.

This is the challenge I sense is for me, and maybe for you. Can we stay in our seasons, allowing them to be full? To complete the work that must happen, for new life to emerge. And if so, how do we do it?

Here are a few things I’m trying that may be helpful for you. I offer them with respect to your own stories.

1. Match my expectations to the season. (Instead of asking why the berries are not growing on the plants, assume they won’t yet, and put my energy into something else.) For me, this means collecting a stack of books (from the library, borrowing from friends), so that I have something enjoyable/interesting to do when pain or fatigue keeps me lying down.

2. Lean into the season. (Winter here in Alberta is cold, so instead of complaining, find ways to cope.) I bought hot chocolate mix the other day as another cozy hot drink to enjoy when I’m not able to eat solid food. Increase my options.

3. Feel the season. (My optimist heart wants to run away from sad feelings, but it’s good to stay put.) As I feel sad or impatient, and as others around me express similar things, I’m practicing staying still, acknowledging with them that life is hard. Feel it, stay in it, no running away.

4. Be curious. (The plants know that their story is not over. They know they will spring back to life soon.) What is coming? What is next? If this is a season of stillness, quietness, less-activity, what will grow from it?

May God comfort our hearts, calm our minds, strengthen our bodies and renew the life in our souls as we rely on Him.

Whatever season you are in, something is happening!

(This is the same back alley when the snow melts!)

Today I’ve set myself up in our bedroom for a day of solitude.

I marked it on our shared calendar, letting my husband know that I wasn’t avoiding him, put my ear buds in as a physical reminder to myself and him that I was off-air for the day.

I’ve been longing for silence and solitude more these days… a desire to turn up the volume of God’s voice and hear over all the other voices that compete for my attention. I’m well aware of the world’s news headlines, the prayer-request emails from church, the needs of our own city, our church’s activities and invitations to be involved, our friends and families’ cares and concerns, and our community’s bake sales and fundraisers. I want to be aware and open to knowing the needs of the world around me, but also, if I’m not careful, I’ll become deaf to my own needs as well.

But I am not the hope. I am not the solution. I am not what people (or myself) need.

In each of our stories, we experience things that teach us how to cope. We choose to keep the peace and avoid conflict, maintaining the status quo. We may be in so much pain (physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually) that we can’t possibly imagine any other way forward except what we have known. So we do the same things – hoping for better results, but it doesn’t happen, and we are disappointed.

Hope is quiet.

It is a small change.

It is subtle.

It’s the moment when a young, tired parent looks at the pile of laundry on the floor and chooses to be present and play with their kid a little longer. Then, thanking God for the clothes, they start the washer.

It’s when a couple is arguing about something way less significant than their relationship, and they pause to say, “I love you, I’m hurting, and I’m not sure how to communicate it”.

It’s when financial pressure builds, and instead of isolating, a text is sent to a friend to meet for coffee, where support is found, one vulnerable sentence at a time.

Hope is quiet. It doesn’t trumpet its arrival. It’s the faint cry of a baby in a manger behind a no-vacancy inn.

In this first week of Advent, there is the sound of hope. Something is happening. Someone is coming. Can you hear it?

When I started my counselling degree a few years ago, I wrote on a yellow sticky note: “What is God calling me to be…in the next step?” We had been challenged by a professor to keep imagining what God was up to in each course, each new textbook, each experience, never to lose the curiosity or wonder about God’s purposes for our lives. Kairos University has a beautiful, holistic approach, training students academically, clinically, and formationally. It all matters.

So this past week, as I’ve been waiting to hear back from a few places I’ve applied for a practicum, I took the morning to spend quietly with God. The house was empty, so I felt extra free to pray out loud, talk, ask God questions, shed tears of both joy and fear as I wrote out scripture, doodled, listened to audio devotionals, and sat quietly in the presence of God.

I felt His presence: a warmth, a sense of being seen and known. Tears came, my heart-walls melted, self-protective measures came crashing down. All my excuses and opinions seemed shallow, and I felt seen, heard, and loved. Have you experienced this? It’s both comforting and terrifying to be known. God sees past my walls, my defenses, my excuses. He knows my thoughts before I even do.

“I’m an open book to you; even from a distance, you know what I’m thinking.
You know when I leave and when I get back. I’m never out of your sight.
You know everything I’m going to say before I start the first sentence.
I look behind me and you’re there, then up ahead and you’re there, too—
    Your reassuring presence, coming and going.” Psalm 139:1-6

It was a good morning of soaking in God’s presence, not analyzing, not figuring things out, just being still, doodling in the presence of the Almighty God. :) Then my phone buzzed. Two emails came in back-to-back, both rejections from the places I had applied. I smiled. Had God prepared me for this? He knew that this was coming, and He knew what I needed first. Thank you, God!

God has been transforming me these past few years. That yellow sticky note still hovers over my desk, challenging me to remember that God is always at work, always calling me forward to trust Him, to let him redeem my desires, to love Him, to give Him glory in my life, no matter what.

So, as I set those rejection emails aside and begin the search again for a practicum, I pause, remembering the goodness and kindness of God, who stooped down to my lowly kitchen table to comfort me and give me peace, and I ask the question, “What is God calling me to be…in the next step?” Where will I apply? Do I frantically apply to anything that is open, do I rush to meet application deadlines, agree to a workload that is beyond my current abilities and strength just to get to the next step? Do I take full responsibility for finding the perfect place?

Or will I, keeping in mind who God is, His love for me (and you!), choose to leave some space for God to surprise me? Will I risk imagining, wondering, and being curious about what God is up to?

Tomorrow, it will be four months since my surgery, and I’m still pain-free!

The results from my previous surgery only lasted 3 months before complications set in, so as I reach the 4-month mark, I’m feeling more and more excited that this could be a permanent fix.

Energy is starting to increase, and I can do more activities during the day, which is amazing, but it also creates a new question … what now? The options for how I spend my time and energy are increasing; I’m no longer in survival mode. Taking a leave of absence from school has given me a flexible schedule. I have applied for a practicum with a counseling organization, but the interviews are not scheduled until September. If I am accepted, I won’t start until January 2026. That gives me six months of unscheduled time!

However, it hasn’t taken long for me to feel a familiar pull on my ego… “I can do more! MORE! … and doing more means feeling productive, and that feels GOOD! It means feeling successful, significant, and useful, and that means I am a valuable human, and that means I won’t need to fear abandonment or rejection …” Whoa, that escalated quickly.

When chronic pain entered my life 31 years ago, that’s where it hurt the most. Not the physical pain (although Endometriosis is excruciatingly painful!) but the emotional pain of needing to let go of so much that my identity was wrapped up in (strength, ability, productivity, usefulness, independence) and instead accept weakness and limitations. But God was so gracious and gently reminded me that if I surrendered my will and plans, He would open my life up to His love, goodness, and purpose, and that all that I longed for would be accomplished in a better way that not only gives God glory but rest and peace to my weary soul as well.

“But blessed is the man who trusts God, the woman who sticks with God. They’re like trees replanted in Eden, putting down roots near the rivers — Never a worry through the hottest of summers, never dropping a leaf, serene and calm through droughts, bearing fresh fruit every season.” (Jeremiah 17)

I have sensed God’s love holding me, grounding me, and reminding me of his strength. A holy restraint, a loving hand on my shoulder, and a whisper calling me back from chasing ego-serving pursuits. So, I’ve taken time to listen for His voice amidst my busy mind and increasing energy, asking God what it would look like to surrender this new pain-free existence to Him.

I think it means the same as it always has. I need to spend time with God, intentionally reading (or listening to) the Bible, journaling, being quiet, reading books that guide me in wisdom, spending time in nature, deep conversations with good friends, worshipping God with others in our church, and using the gifts and talents God has given me. I need to reign in my eagerness to use my new pain-free energy and instead thoughtfully set priorities so I don’t exhaust myself on random tasks.

It’s the simple moments where I’m most tempted to let my heart wander into chasing other pursuits:

Do housework or… wander through a thrift store!

Do physio exercises or… eat another cookie!

Read the Bible or… one more episode of my favorite show!

None of those things are bad, and yet left to my emotional whims, I’m prone to choose what is easiest. And yet, as I set priorities, focus my energy, and be patient with my to-do list, God gives me peace. It all gets done eventually, and I allow God’s Word to soak into my day as I stop now and then to reflect, rest, read, or write. God is nourishing my soul and steadying the ground beneath my feet.

It doesn’t mean I sit still all day. I listen to a Bible app on my phone while I stretch. I write in my journal in the backyard, taking breaks from yard work, and I walk with friends, talking about what God is up to in our lives. I also listen to worship music while cooking dinner. This allows my often-fickle heart to refocus on God throughout the day, not just in the morning. And of course, it still leaves room for creativity, fun, and play.

A question I often ask myself: If the pain returned tomorrow, what will I be glad that I spent my pain-free time doing?

God has helped me understand that the best way to celebrate my newfound pain-free life is by honoring Him, allowing Him to direct my energy and bless me with His love, presence, and peace.

So, now, I pray for you, echoing the words in Ephesians 1:16-19, “I ask the God of our Master, Jesus Christ, the God of glory—to make you intelligent and discerning in knowing him personally, your eyes focused and clear, so that you can see exactly what it is he is calling you to do, grasp the immensity of this glorious way of life he has for his followers, oh, the utter extravagance of his work in us who trust him—endless energy, boundless strength!”

Psalm 23

“God, my shepherd! I don’t need a thing. You have bedded me down in lush meadows, you find me quiet pools to drink from. True to your word, you let me catch my breath and send me in the right direction.

Even when the way goes through Death Valley, I’m not afraid when you walk at my side. Your trusty shepherd’s crook makes me feel secure.

You serve me a six-course dinner right in front of my enemies. You revive my drooping head; my cup brims with blessing.

Your beauty and love chase after me every day of my life. I’m back home in the house of God for the rest of my life.”

It has been 56 days since my surgery, the wounds have healed, and my small intestine is doing both jobs now and handling the new requirements well! The stoma that deals with waste disposal is also functioning, and I’m grateful for my surgeon and the technology that makes this possible.

My pain is gone. 100% gone!

Today, Randy and I went to two thrift stores, with a coffee break in between! It has been forever since I’ve been able to do that! Then I came home and was still able to do laundry and some dishes, and then Randy and I made pizza and watched a movie. Still no abdominal/back pain. Nothing. And here I am now, late at night, writing. Crazy!!

One of my friends asked, “Is it scary to allow yourself joy?" And another friend, “How long until you know for sure that the surgery worked?”

It IS scary to hope, to wonder, to dare to plan. I mean, I could make plans and follow through now. Pain doesn’t stand in the way anymore.

A few weeks ago, I felt myself tighten my grip. I want this to stay, I want more health, more time, more opportunities. More! And I felt anxious and distracted by all the possibilities.

Then, thankfully, I read this prayer by Thomas Merton, and it settled me right down:

“Take my life into Your hands, at last, and do whatever You want with it. I give myself to Your love and mean to keep on giving myself to Your love – rejecting neither the hard things nor the pleasant things You have arranged for me. It is enough for me that You have glory. Everything You have planned is good. It is all love. If You allow people to praise me, I shall not worry. If You let them blame me, I shall worry even less but be glad. If You send me to work, I shall embrace it with joy, and it will be rest to me because it is Your will. And if You send me rest, I will rest in You. Only save me from myself. Save me from my own private poisonous urge to change everything, to act without reason, to move for movement’s sake, to unsettle everything that You have ordained. Let me rest in Your will and be silent. Then the light of Your joy will warm my life. Its fire will burn in my heart and shine for Your glory. That is what I live for. Amen.”

My fears were unearthed and then calmed. I remembered that God had never abandoned me in my painful years. He has been present, has loved me, has given me peace and contentment and even joy. He does give rest and more than pain-free living, my heart desires that kind of rest.

I have been granted 56 days of pain-free living. It is a great gift. So today, I write this post as a stake in the ground to say, I accept this good gift, for as long as it is mine. I will not fear losing it because I know God will be there, just as He is with me now, and I can trust Him to give me a greater purpose and hope in Him that lasts and is for His glory, not mine. And nothing, not even pain can take that away. I don’t need to be afraid.

“Blessed are the single-hearted, for they shall enjoy much peace. If you refuse to be hurried and pressed, if you stay your soul on God, nothing can keep you from that clearness of spirit which is life and peace. In that stillness, you will know what His will is.” (Amy Carmichael)

I’m having a proctocolectomy - the removal of the large intestine, rectum and anus. Yup. This whole section of my body has not been working and has been without motility for a long time. The contraction and relaxation of the muscles in the large intestine, known as peristalsis, have not been working properly. So my surgeon will be removing all of it, leaving only the small intestine leading to a small opening on my stomach known as a stoma (which they created last year around this time).

Why am I telling you this? That’s a good question. I have three reasons:

1. Writing helps me process. Every morning, I write in a journal and get my thoughts out of my head onto paper. I use it as a prayer, and I write to God, telling him my fears, joys, confusions, excitements, and sadness. I pour out my heart, and it helps me see what is there, letting me open myself to God’s wisdom and direction in my life.

2. I value transparency. As vulnerable as it can feel, I value being known and knowing others. Some things will always remain private and guarded in my heart and my relationships, but there are many things I can share that may help others feel less alone. I want to be that kind of person.

3. Writing is the gift I offer. Writing usually feels small, like a gift offered that won’t accomplish much. But when offered to God, He does something with it that I can’t explain. People send me messages about things they find meaningful in my writing, and I’m surprised. I no longer self-deprecate, but I also don’t feel confident that what I create is good. I have no idea what will come of any of this, but I have sensed for a long time that writing is the gift that God has given me to share. So I do, and I leave the outcome up to God.

The surgery will last six hours, and my surgeon has brought in a retired surgeon to assist her. He has three decades of experience, so she has requested his help as she has put together a team. I’m grateful. I’ve had pain and issues with my intestines my whole life. It got worse when I was diagnosed with Endometriosis in 1994, and 7 surgeries later, I’ve been on pain management for the past 24 years. Last year’s ileostomy surgery was surgery #8, and on Tuesday, this will be the 9th, and I’m hoping it will be the last.

There’s a fine line between hope and despair, and for those of you who live with chronic illness or pain or unresolved relationships or losses in your life, you understand that some days the line feels thick and impenetrable and other days, paper-thin. Hoping for a good outcome of this surgery is something that people wish for me, that I wish for, and that is very possible and the very purpose of this surgery. However, hoping in the outcome is a very different thing.

I’ve been focusing on the perspective that my hope needs to be in God, but that I can still hope for a good outcome.

Eugene Peterson writes this in his book, “A Long Obedience in the Same Direction”:

“And hoping is not dreaming. It is not spinning an illusion of fantasy to protect us from our boredom or our pain. It means a confident, alert expectation that God will do what he said he will do. It is imagination put in the harness of faith. It is a willingness to let him do it his way and in his time. It is the opposite of making plans that we demand that God put into effect, telling him both how and when to do it. That is not hoping in God but bullying God.” (p. 140)

Whenever I start to put my hope in this surgery and mind-wander into the future wondering if I will be able to hike mountains again, ride a bike, go to work, make plans and follow through, be off this strong pain medication . . . I begin to feel the anxiety of the shaky foundation. Anything could happen. The surgery could fix things, but there could be complications, and there could be bigger issues they find; anything is possible. What if pain returns after my recovery? What if other issues come up? I’ve had chronic pain issues for most of my life, and nothing has fixed it yet. I’m 54 years old. To hope in surgery is to demand that my happiness, my future, and my wholeness depend on a physical procedure. That’s a lot of pressure on the surgeons, and that’s a lot of hope in an uncertain thing.

Instead, I hope in God, in his faithful and proven promise that he will be with me, no matter what, that he loves and values me as I am, and that he created me with gifts and talents and a purpose for my life that is beyond the limitations of pain or illness. My life has been full and has included pain. I have spent an extraordinary amount of time in pain management and taking medication, doctor’s appointments, procedures, and recovery times. And in all of it, God has been with me, providing a peace that is beyond understanding, a sense of purpose that draws me out of bed in the morning, and a love for others that he continues to grow. I once heard someone refer to pain as a renovation in our lives. It is messy, it takes time, and it is costly, but when it is done, it creates room, more space, and more accommodation for ourselves and others. I can invite others to talk about their pain because I have room for it now.

I’m looking forward to my recovery time of 12 weeks. I’ve heard that it’s tough and that the wounds take a long time to close as there will be stitches on my abdomen and the ole' exit. But I’m also looking forward to what God will do. I’ve got crafts ready, books, movies, and a few friends who I can invite to come over and play games when I feel well enough. I’ve been managing pain from a broken body for a long time, and this time, the pain will be from a surgery that is intended to fix the problem. So there is room to hope for an easier life in the future, possibly pain-free, but my hope will remain IN God, the author and finisher of my faith. No ifs, ands or but(ts)! 😊

Today doesn’t feel like the right kind of day to write. I mean, maybe in my journal, privately, but not here.

I woke up with significant pain, rationing my painkillers because I needed to wait one more day until the pharmacy approved my refill. I felt grumpy and tired. I read a message from a friend who is going in for surgery this morning in the UK, and I felt happy for her and envious. I’ve been waiting 9 months for that same surgery.

So I made coffee, curled up in my blanket on the couch, and began my morning routine. Today’s reading was about how God asked Moses, “What’s in your hand?” As Moses held up his ordinary walking stick, God transformed it and used it to perform miracles that eventually set the Israelite nation free from captivity. That’s not something that Moses saw coming.

So, this morning’s challenge was to consider what was in my hand that I could offer to God.

I had to think. I’m still thinking.

Pain. Illness. Waiting. Medication. Resting. (It doesn’t feel like much.)

Usually, I try to get the medication working quickly so that I can offer other things, like my physical strength or presence, listening and encouraging others, creativity, and friendship.

I’ve made some progress in letting things go. The limits of my expectations for myself have slowly spiraled inward so that what I do matches more of who I am. However, with new seasons come new challenges to hold steady.

We have grandbabies now. What can I offer?

We have parents who need assistance. What can I offer?

I feel, hear, and see the needs of loved ones and people I encounter. What can I offer?

When family comes to stay, when dinners need to be made, when culture suggests certain activities that belong with this season, what can I offer?

I had a few tears, to be honest, and shared this with my husband. I told him that PAIN was the thing I was holding, and he said, “And a pen.”

So here I am, using my pain and pen, offering it to God for his transforming power to do things that go beyond my imagination.

I have no idea what He will do.

💕 What is in your hand today?

I remember the day that my burden of living with a chronic illness lifted.

I was 29, recovering from my 7th surgery, and a dear friend of ours, who was helping each day of the recovery, took our two preschool sons to the zoo for the afternoon. It was hard not to be with them. I cried a lot while I lay on the couch, tending to my abdominal stitches and trying to follow the rules about resting.

I prayed out loud into our empty house, “God, what kind of mom am I to not be with my kids? Will this harm them? Will they lack something someday because I have been a sick mom their whole life so far? How do I do this? How do I parent? What do I do? I mean, how do I love them and be a mom? I’m so afraid of failing at this privilege.”

And in the quiet, a memory of a story from the Bible interrupted my thoughts and tears. I opened my Bible to read it.

“One of the religion scholars spoke… posing a question they hoped would show him up: “Teacher, which command in God’s Law is the most important?” Jesus said, “‘Love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and intelligence.’ This is the most important, the first on any list. But there is a second to set alongside it: ‘Love others as well as you love yourself.’ These two commands are pegs; everything in God’s Law and the Prophets hangs from them.” (Matthew 22:36-38)

At that time in the culture, there were SO many rules. The religious leaders kept piling more and more rules on the people and they were burdened by what they could or could not do. When Jesus came, he taught a new way. Jesus said,

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? (me: YUP! The people would have agreed!) Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (Matthew 11:28-30)

I closed my Bible and prayed out loud again, “Okay God, so loving You is the most important thing, then loving others just as compassionately as I love myself, that is what matters most to you? Okay, but I’m not sure how that looks in the day-to-day stuff.”

Just then, the door unlocked and two excited preschoolers came bounding in the door, kicking off their shoes and running over to me on the couch. They were so good at remembering to not jump on me so they hugged my head and held my hands as they told me EVERYTHING they saw and did. I listened, smiled and laughed with them, asked questions and when they ran out of stories, they hugged me again and bolted off into the kitchen for lunch that our friend was making.

I snuggled back into the couch pillows and silently prayed, “God, like that? Is it that simple?” and I felt a resounding ‘Yes!’ in my soul. I don’t know how else to explain it, because God’s communication with us is mysterious and I don’t want to write a script that demystifies the holiness of God. But I can tell you, that something in my whole mind, body, heart, and spirit lifted. The burden of illness that I carried was lighter, not gone, but lighter. I noticed it. I felt it. And I smiled.

Today is 25 years later, our kids are grown, married and have kids of their own. I’m currently resting on the couch, tending to pain that lingers until my next surgery in a few months. And this morning, I am wondering, if God had not lifted my burden back then, what kind of non-essential things would I have added to my daily list of to-do’s that would’ve weighed me down unnecessarily?

• the need for a spotless, clean house, a well-stocked fridge, and the ability to create a beautiful meal for guests at a whim

• that I would be a super-mom

• that I would attend every one of our kids’ events, every activity, be involved and helpful as much as they needed

• that I would be a super-wife, beautiful, fit, athletic, and not “needy” in any way

• that I would be helpful in my church, neighborhood, extended family, city, wherever help was needed

• that I would contribute equally to our home financially

• that I would be a giver, not a taker, helpful to my friends, independent to take care of my own needs

Ugh, can you feel how suffocating and “I” focused this list is?

And yet those were (and sometimes still are) the pressures I felt from culture, and the ones I put on myself. What an amazing gift it has been to have so many other beautiful people involved in our lives and in the lives of our kids. A community of loving people helped us raise our kids and care for the tasks in our home while Randy worked and helped me back and forth to the hospital, etc. Randy prepped the nursery instead of me and painted a huge cityscape and tree mural that went up onto the ceiling of the wall. (I never would’ve thought of that or had the skills!) He embraced his role and responsibilities as a husband, father, household manager, and financial provider. He loved us well. He also had to learn to reach out to friends for his support too. Friends helped and we learned how to receive it. Our lives have been full and rich with community and God provided us with the ability to open our hands to new ways. I’m so glad.

Today I am praying for you. Whether all this God talk is familiar to you or strange, I’m praying that God will comfort you in the burden/s that you carry and show you where you can release any of it as non-essential and receive the peace that He longs to give you. If you want to talk about any of this or have questions, let me know. I’d be happy to listen.

I met with my advisor a few weeks ago as I am only a few courses away from finishing my Master’s Degree in Counselling. We discussed the process for my practicum and internship, and then she asked me my estimated timeline for finishing. It was at this point that I said, “Well, there will be a delay as I’m going in for surgery this winter and I’m not sure how the recovery will go”. She stopped abruptly to ask me more about it but then advised me to take a leave of absence during my recovery time and then pick up where I left off once I returned.

This all made sense, was good advice, considerate of my needs but after our meeting was over, I felt utterly deflated. I just want to finish my degree. I’m so close. I’ve got momentum, I’m ready to go, but I can’t. There will be an interruption in my progress.

Since then, I’ve been growing weary, and impatient.

Yesterday, I took some time to talk with God about everything, reached out to a few close friends to ask for prayer support, and spent the day leaning into the tension of this sense of interruption that I feel is happening in my life.

I felt an old familiar sadness creep in and I cried warm tears that welled up from the very core of my being. You know those kinds of tears when you have let things build inside of you for a while.

Since my surgery seven months ago, I had three good months of pain-free living until things went sideways. But it was a taste. A really good taste of what normal might feel like. Like the old me, the young me, the 24-year-old me, before I got sick. And those memories taunt me, reminding me what it felt like to wake up without pain, go for a run with my neighbor, hike a mountain with my husband, and not be hindered by anything. It was so short-lived and at times, it feels like it was just yesterday.

I know I should be grateful because even health to the age of 24 is a gift that many haven’t had.

The thing is though, I want more. I do. And God sometimes doesn’t seem to care that that matters to me.

But …He does.

Yesterday, as I journalled, read, listened to podcasts, and spent time in silence, I sensed that God was inviting me to wonder. What if this is not an interruption? What if this time of surgery and recovery is part of the training that I need to be the counsellor God is calling me to be? What if my path ahead is one where I model a lived experience of what it means to rely on God and have patience, endurance, humility, courage, and creativity in hard times? If I only speak the words but resist them in my own life, any advice I give will be weak.

So, in a well-practiced way, I sighed a giant sigh, and surrendered my will, again, to what God has in mind and then spent the rest of the day playing around with watercolors and writing words on little signs that remind me to trust God. I felt a growing lightness in my spirit, a diminishing tension, losses grieved and hope stirred. I’m learning to grieve, to lament, to feel all the feelings but then to do the next thing.

It was a good day. And I know that I will be back here again when I’m tempted to compare my life with others when I’m weary, and when I lose sight of my loving God whose purposes are far beyond my understanding. And I hope you know that you can have those kinds of days too. God will provide what you need, in His way, in His timing, and His wisdom.

Take good care of yourselves, friends. 💕

My perspective shifted yesterday. God gave me a pep talk.

Here’s what happened.

In a few weeks, I’ll be meeting with my surgeon to discuss the removal of my large intestine. The ileostomy surgery done in January was a success and I’m content to keep it. Still, the large intestine has been protesting and wants food to stop being diverted away so it has created something known as “Diversion Colitis” — its rebellion. Inflammation, pain, and a multitude of symptoms have kicked in and it’s been a rough few months. I did a round of intense treatment for four weeks but nothing has changed. I’m ready to have the surgeon take it out, gut me, remove the whole large intestine — I’m ready.

It is a major surgery though. It involves an incision down the front of the stomach rather than a laparoscopic style, a change to the ileostomy, and a sewing up of the back exit known as a “Barbie Butt”. That’s right. No need for an exit if the colon is gone. Yeah, I know, pretty weird.

I’ve been researching and talking with others who have had this second surgery and they highly recommend it, wishing they had it sooner. I know the recovery is difficult and complications and risks are always there but I’d rather have it gone than do maintenance on an organ that is not being used. But I’ve felt this heavy feeling as I’ve been thinking about this, disappointed that it’s necessary and just feeling gloomy about it, fearful.

As I journaled and prayed yesterday, I could feel my eyes starting to well up and a lump forming in my throat. I know when this happens that things are about to get real and I’d better face the feelings that were showing up. I admitted to God that I was scared. I was scared of the pain, the wounds and incisions, the unknowns, and the long recovery and healing process. I hadn’t cried yet about this as I had been in research mode, but tension had been building in my heart and mind and now my body was starting to feel it. Tears flowed freely.

As I sat with the Lord and my heart was finally soft enough to listen, the words that came to me were from Romans 8… “What’s next, Papa?” I looked it up and it goes like this: (Paul is talking to followers of Jesus) “This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It’s adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” God’s Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children.”

I liked this! I kept reading.

The whole chapter is amazing! It felt like a pep talk and I began to remember something. In all my 31 years of Endometriosis, hypothyroidism, osteoarthritis, recent ileostomy, and now diversion colitis, I’ve never been alone! In the starkest of moments of pain, in every emergency room, hospital bed, MRI machine, and waiting room, God’s presence has been with me. I don’t know how you’ll hear this if it sounds familiar or just really weird, but all I can say is that it has been true for me!

I am generally a positive person and usually look on the bright side, sometimes to a fault, but my positive attitude falls absolutely flat when pain is high or when hope for improvement gets dashed. It can’t withstand the intensity of reality.

But God never changes, never tires, is never worn out or bored of showing up, never ashamed of me or embarrassed. His love never changes. It’s real, it’s strong, it’s true, and it is enough to give me hope for the future. It might be a future with more pain, more illness, more weird things that change my body or alter my agenda and plans. But the adventure that God calls me to within all of this is better than anything I could imagine.

I may not be planning a physical adventure this summer, I may not be able to climb a mountain or kayak or travel to faraway places, but God invites me to rest in his love for me, to know contentment, to be “adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike “What’s next, Papa?” and I look forward to seeing all that he has in mind for me and how He may want to use me to encourage others in a very tired and stressed out world.

My perspective has changed. I’m ready for adventure, the kind that God plans!

We celebrate this great reversal when we celebrate Jesus’ resurrection on Easter Sunday. But what is it exactly? Is it a big political movement? A revival? A series of miracles? I certainly can think of things that I would like to see happen. I’d like to see God’s power in my life and in the lives of people around me. I can think of friends and family who need healing, and if we’re making wish lists, I’d like a guarantee that my health will continue to improve. I’d like to start making plans for the future and be able to follow through. If Jesus can come alive again, and we celebrate that this Sunday, then what are my expectations for Jesus? What am I hoping will happen? I may say that I don’t have an agenda for Jesus, but when I read Matthew 5, I’m feeling the effects of this reversal.

Matthew 5: 3-12 Jesus says….

“You’re blessed - when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you, there is more of God and his rule. (Wait…Jesus said what?)

You’re blessed - when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you. (but loss hurts!)

You’re blessed - when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought. (what if I find myself hard to accept?)

You’re blessed - when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat. (but I want God and…other things)

You’re blessed - when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for. (what if I feel burnt out?)

You’re blessed - when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world. (like the matrix?)

You’re blessed - when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.(hmm, identity, I do want to know my purpose)

You’re blessed - when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom. (whoa, I’m not sure I like that)

Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble.” (ooh, hard to give a cheer when I’m in it)

Do we see this as #blessed? Or do we cry out . . . “I’m not getting what I want!” “I’m running out of energy!!” “I’m weak and I need to be strong - quick, I have things to do!”

The gentle invitation in Jesus’ words above is to rest. We can stop striving and freaking out when we are not feeling our best, when we’re not bringing our A-game, or when we fail.

When we celebrate Jesus this Easter Sunday, let’s take a big breath … and exhale. Thank him for this great reversal. He offers forgiveness for our sins, fresh starts, and a life that is full, but only in this Jesus-reversal way. He never promised health, wealth and happiness. That’s a myth that we assign to him. It’s not true and it’s not who he is.

We can let His love and power shine through the broken places in our lives and bring beauty, power, and rest to a very weary world. Let’s receive his rest and share it with others!

This morning tears flowed freely. Good tears, relieved ones.

I woke with an anxious and full mind. I decided to jot down my thoughts and lists and was tempted to tackle them right away, but I sensed God saying “Nah … wait a little.”

I’m in my third week of six, recovering from an ileostomy surgery and each morning there are new questions, new symptoms, new healing successes, and new complications. I now wear an ostomy bag on my stomach and there are skin irritations from the stomach acid, different methods of treating this according to different nurses, products to choose from, companies to order from, samples to try, vendors to contact, and costs to record. I am experiencing less pain and have come off most of my pain medication. I share more about this on Instagram (if you’re interested), that this surgery has really worked and relieved my pain but then I remember a second surgery is still to come. Whoa … so many thoughts. Until this morning, I haven’t noticed how busy my mind has been as my body is slowly healing. I thought it might have been just a new energy from being off those drowsy medications, but it wasn’t.

So, I made breakfast, curled up on the couch, and decided to listen to worship music instead of my usual routine of journaling, reading, etc. I found a random song on YouTube, put my earbuds in, turned up the volume, and … my soul melted. Tears flowed. My whole body relaxed and I realized how much I needed to soak, to steep in the love of God. My mind needed a break and my heart needed to feel. 🥺😢🥰

Some of the lyrics:

“He has good plans, He has good plans for me. So I will take heart in deserts and gardens. If I know my Father, I know my Father has good plans . . . “ Red Rocks Worship - Good Plans

Yes, I have questions. Yes, I have concerns but they CANNOT be allowed to control me.

In December, I found a few verses that I chose to meditate on for 2024 and today is a good day to now write them out and place those around the house, on my desk, beside my bed, on my laptop, on top of my coursework work, in the kitchen where I learn to eat differently and one in the bathroom where I daily deal with this new ostomy bag on my stomach.

Here are Jesus’ words:

What I’m trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God’s giving. People who don’t know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don’t worry about missing out. You’ll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes. Matthew 6:31-34

May you hear the voice of God in your own life today, calling you toward what God has for you, less figuring out, less striving, less leaning on your own wisdom, so that you can be blessed with God’s peace first.

Let’s steep. 💕

Okay, now I’m ready to look at my lists. :)

Sending love to all of you today.

Heather

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]]>SteepHeather HayashiFri, 20 Oct 2023 23:19:02 +0000https://www.rhythmsofgrace.ca/heather-hayashi/2023/10/20/youre-blessed-when-uh-oh52268e1fe4b0cdf7216907bd:52269413e4b0f0c0eac71857:6532f61f09a7de5b877c8709

Imagine with me . . . (adapted from Matthew 5, Luke 6)

“So, this is the Jesus that heals right?” I hear people murmuring around me, shuffling to stand while not wanting to lose their place in line. I see wooden canes and cloth wrapped around various wounds and broken limbs. Some are obviously blind or deaf, disfigured, or injured, and others, it’s hard to see from the outside why they need healing. But they’re here! Everyone is here! This mountainside is packed! What a day to be alive!!

A few more hours probably, and I’ll be next. I can’t wait!!!

I’ve had this illness for so long. The closer I get to Jesus, the more I start to imagine what life will be like once I’m healed! I haven’t let myself imagine because it’s too painful when it doesn’t happen. Hope is a hard thing to embrace.

“There He is!” People are shouting, waving, and pointing. I can see Jesus too! He’s climbing onto a rock, probably so He can see how many of us are here. Maybe He’ll do a big bulk healing, like ‘Everyone who can see me on this left side of the rock, you’re healed!” He’s probably getting tired and could use a good supper. He’s been out here all day in the hot sun and wind. Or maybe He’s going to announce that He sees our place in the line and that He will come back tomorrow to heal the rest of us. Ya, that’s probably it. Oh, He’s about to speak . . .

“You’re blessed, when you’ve lost it all . . . ”

Wait, what?! Uh oh.

He’s not announcing anything. He’s NOT giving instructions about tomorrow. He’s NOT apologizing for how long it is taking to be healed, He’s teaching. Oh.

I-don’t-want-to-be-taught. (I whisper through my clenched teeth.)

Jesus continues:

“You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.”

I DON’T want some divine hug, I WANT, to be healed!! Tears are now stinging my eyes and I shift my weight, my shoulders are tense, and my gaze falls to the sandy ground beneath me. I can still hear Him, but I don’t want to look up. I was afraid this would happen.

“You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.”

I AM hungry, I should’ve packed a snack. Maybe someone around me has something. “Excuse me, do you have any bread?” A woman responds, “Shhhhhh!!!!!” I turn back around, crossing my arms. I can feel my heart racing.

“You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.”

I don’t get it. How can any of this internal heart stuff take away my suffering? I don’t understand. I should’ve come yesterday. I heard He healed a lot of people yesterday. That could’ve been me. Well, might as well go home. I’m not interested in this speech. THIS is a waste of my time.

__________________________________________________________

Having lived with chronic pain for 30 years, I’ve done more than cross my arms and stand there. I’ve shaken my fists at Jesus, yelled, screamed, cursed, and told Him that I hate Him and how He does things!!

And . . . I also have come to believe, wholeheartedly, that what Jesus said is true. There IS an internal life, our souls, that needs to be healed as well. Contentment and peace don’t just show up one day, it is given to us as we trust Jesus every day, every appointment, every moment. Either healing will come in our physical, emotional, and mental selves or we will hear the invitation of Jesus to heal our souls and give us joy - no matter what the circumstances. Jesus can be trusted even if it is really, really, really hard to believe. I’ve experienced His presence during my years of suffering so I don’t fear the unknown (most of the time).

I’m about to have surgery for an ileostomy that promises to help relieve my pain and gain some healthy living back. But it may not. It could even get worse. None of this is in my control. But the doctors have given me some fresh hope that I haven’t had in a while. I usually say that I have half-hope that pain will be removed because we’ve tried SO MANY different things. So, it’s strangely comforting to read these words in Scripture again and realize that Jesus offers healing to us in different ways, for different purposes. Through the past 30 years, I’ve come to know, feel, and experience how much God loves me! (and you) and He IS enough in those hard times. Yes, I want less pain but not if it ever costs me to give up my relationship with Jesus!

So, wherever you are today. . . in the crowd with your arms crossed, disappointed with Jesus, swearing and kicking in anger, or listening carefully, soaking up every word He says and accepting that sometimes healing doesn’t happen in our bodies, welcome! 💕💕 You’re not alone. It’s okay to trust again. Jesus is waiting, patiently and lovingly to remove your fears, shame, and hurts and replace them with His love, with His presence! That is where the real miracle happens!!

__________________________________________________________

(This idea for today’s blog has been on my mind for about a month. . . It is dear to my heart and I hope it reaches yours.)

• Math 10 - failed, took a less difficult Math 13, and passed.

• Math 20 - failed, took a less difficult Math 23, and passed.

• Math 30 - failed, took a less difficult Math 33, and passed again.

That’s SIX math courses in high school, which could be seen as commendable, but . . . it just shows how challenging it was for me. I could blame it on my teacher but it wasn’t him. He was a good teacher. I can still hear his LOUD voice, “Heatherrrrrrrr!” he’d yell as he waited at the doorway for his classroom to fill up with students. If he spotted me coming down the hallway, he would say, “Are you coming to class todayyyyy?” By the time I reached his doorway, my face was red from embarrassment because his voice carried the entire length of the most intimidating hallway as I walked past everyone staring at me.

Now, that I’m working on a master’s degree in psychology, I assumed it would be courses about human biology and pathology and psychopharmacology…and it is, but it also has courses on statistics and research, assessment, and diagnosis which involves MATH!

One of my goals for this degree is that I wanted to be transparent and vulnerable, qualities I want to have and should have if I want to be an authentic counselor. So, to build those muscles, if I don’t understand a concept, I admit that to my professor and ask for help. However, something else is happening. I am learning to see the value in math. (If my teacher could see me know he would yell, “Heatherrrrrr, well done!”) 😊

When you think about it, math is everywhere. If I want to buy new clothes, I’ll subtract money from my wallet to add clothes to my closet. If I want to increase understanding in my relationship with my husband, I’ll add more listening and subtract assumptions. If I want to add muscle to my body, I’ll subtract time on the couch and add squats and weights during my study breaks, multiplying repetitions and sets as I get stronger. If I want to add wholeness then I will increase time spent with God, embracing His loving opinion about me, and decreasing time worrying about what others think. It is all math!

For the past year and a half, I’ve been going for monthly counseling sessions. I need to, as part of the requirements for my psychology degree. They want me to experience being a client, but I also decided to not just fulfill the requirements but do some serious heart and mind housecleaning, really go all in!

One of the analogies my professor uses is that being a counselor is like holding a water hose, lightly and loosely so that water can flow freely. As people share their stories, a counselor facilitates the process for them of that flow in a safe and empathetic environment. If we, as counselors have personal things that we have not dealt with, then as the client shares, we might begin to feel anxiety and start to tighten our grip on that water hose, inhibiting the free flow for the client. It then becomes more about us and our issues than the client and their healing process. Dealing with our own internal lives, as counselors, allows us to hold that free-flow space for others without our stuff getting in the way.

So, in the math analogy, I subtracted every buried story, fear and secret from my heart and mind and let it go through the process of counseling (the water hose). The experience has been incredible. Scary at first but then so amazing. I’ve had a recurrent, fearful dream since I was very young that is finally and completely gone! I’m sleeping like a baby (a sleepy baby!) My counselor received my stories with compassion, understanding, a gentle curiousity and wisdom. There is an expression that grief needs a witness and so there is something incredibly healing about being able to share about the losses, disappointments and hurts of life and be met with such grace and care. The more that I subtracted from my heart and mind, and shared with a trusted professional, the more my body felt an improvement too. It relaxed, my alert/alarm system turned off and a calm, a sustainable, peaceful calm, is the sum of it all. I guess you could say that I’m a believer in math and counseling!!

If you’re feeling stuck, it could be that there are some equations out of place in your life too. Maybe you’ve experience losses like trauma or betrayal and you find that it shows up all the time or in the strangest places and it’s hard for you to relax or sleep or laugh and play. I encourage you to take some inventory of your internal life. Choose freedom, choose health, choose to become someone who can be able to hold space for others by taking care of your own business. Math is so fact based. There can be no denial that an equation of 2+2=4. It just is. That’s the fact. And maybe, you’re living in denial about some facts in your own life, some relationships or hurts that have been covered up out of fear. It’s easy to do. Truth is hard to face.

I encourage you to go for counseling with a professional in your area. There are lots of online counselors as well that make it alot easier. I’ve done that too and it can be just as effective. It may mean just a few sessions to get you back on track or months or years. I’ll go back to counseling, whenever I feel that I need an adjustment, like a physio treatement. Our hearts and minds get tensed up too. We can care for ourselves and come to understand our value as we trust our secrets with a safe, skilled person who can help. I hope you feel some encouragement that none of us are alone in this. It takes great courage to go for help, and it’s hard work, but the benefits are incredible and I wish that for you as well!

As summer begins, surprisingly the excitement in the air can feel like a heavy, dark cloud for those of us who live with chronic pain or illness.

Most conversations start with, “So, what are your summer plans?” and “Are you traveling anywhere? What summer projects do you have lined up?” And to be fair, those are completely appropriate questions. We live in a winter city which means that from late October to even early May, there is snow! We have a short, muddy spring, hot summer, then a cool fall, and winter starts again. And, as Ferris Bueller said, "If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

However, for many of us, summer is difficult. The heat can exacerbate our symptoms. Traveling is difficult. Doing groceries is difficult. So the thought of doing groceries, packing up, and going camping? Whew…that’s way off the radar. As our friends and family talk about plans, it can be a fresh reminder that we don’t fit in, summer doesn’t apply to us, and we may feel that we don’t get to participate in summer the way everyone else does. And, it’s true. (And for my camping friends who are reading this - know that I love and celebrate you in your awesome, strength-filled, athletic, adventurous selves!)

On one of the hot days in early July, I laid down on my bed for a rest, with my to-do list not even touched, a fan blowing cool air on my face, and I thought about a few verses that I’ve been meditating on recently.

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

Paul’s letter to the church in Corinth was to encourage them. He wanted them to think about their spiritual life, not just their physical one. He knew physical suffering himself and described that he himself had a thorn in his flesh which is not clear exactly what he meant but he begged God to remove it. (Sound familiar to your prayers?)

So, when I laid down on my bed, thinking about what it could possibly mean to focus on the unseen, on eternity, on what God is doing on the inside of my soul, and in the world, rather than all that’s going on in my body, which is so hard to NOT think about, I laid there for quite a while in silence.

Then a thought came to my mind of the less-than-symbol ( < ) and my eyes started to warm and fill up with tears. “What does that mean God?” I asked. I thought about the feeling that I have often, that I do feel less than others. I do less than I want to. My energy is less than I hope it would be. My plans are less than I wish they were. My daily ability to check off a to-do list is always less than as pain forces me to rest.

But then I remembered, there is a greater-than-symbol too ( > ). When I am feeling less than, and I stop and rest and allow myself to stay in the less than position, letting go of my hopes, plans and fears, and insecurities, God often shows up in greater-than ways! And as I meditated on this thought, I imagined that space between the less than sign < and the greater than sign > and I took a black pen and drew this on my wrist < >.

For the past week, I’ve been remembering that it’s okay to do less than because, as I rest, as I let go and realize that God has something greater coming, I can stay in the less than position, take a nap, pick up meds at the pharmacist and say no to that invitation to a bbq. I can enjoy and celebrate with my friends who are doing fun things and traveling. And as God reminds me of this space between the less than < and greater than >, I can anticipate with joy what God might do.

I’ll give you a ‘for instance’ that is fresh on my mind. Our son and daughter-in-law are in town for another week and staying with us. The other night, they came home and invited us to watch a movie with them. My pain was too high, I was really uncomfortable and knew that I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the movie. But I wanted to! They’re only in town for a visit and then we won’t see them for a while and I love spending time with our adult kids!

I stayed in my room and looked at my less than symbol on my wrist and said, “Okay, Lord, I accept my reality and I will anticipate with faith that you are greater-than! Again, a few nights later, the pain was high, meds had not started working yet and they came back to the house and we were going to eat dinner together. I knew, that standing and working in the kitchen would be too much for me so I told them. They picked up some supplies at Safeway and prepared supper for us, carrying a plate of food to me as I stayed comfy on the couch. This is less than the kind of mom/mom-in-law I always pictured, but it is my reality. And so I stay here, in my reality, trusting in God’s greater than and allowing them to bless us with their service. It may seem strange but for those of us who live with weakness and pain, it is hard to accept help and ask for it, over and over and over again.

So, my friends, you who live with daily pain, and autoimmune disorders that constantly challenge your body with infections, inflammation, pain, weakness, dizziness, medication side effects, and mental and emotional distress, I love you and see you today. I understand how hard it can be to enter a beautiful, hot, summer that culturally means vacations and breaks from the daily work that we have to do. Yet, I know that your life may continue to be the same and that your suffering continues, no matter what the season. Let me encourage you to rest.

Let go of all expectations that culture puts on you. Take a deep breath . . . and relax. You have a beautiful and hard life. You can do the hard things but I know, from my own experience, you get weary too.

My prayer for you (and me) this summer is that we’ll find ways to rest and enjoy summer in a way that nourishes us and that we’ll be creative in thinking of ways to see new sights or travel short distances just for fun. (Sometimes a drive-through ice cream cone from our local McDonalds can feel like a break in a way that is most compassionate to myself and my needs.)

May God give you the strength to accept your less-than moments and the faith to hope in God’s greater-than! And when those greater-than stories happen, tell someone! Tell me! Send me a message if you like! I LOVE those kinds of stories, they encourage me to boldly hope for a God who is greater-than and does greater-than things for His glory and my joy.

Right now, my husband is floating down a river in a pack raft alongside a buddy while his buddy’s wife called me from the pickup point for the guys. She wanted to include me in the trip and showed me through her phone’s camera the river, the rapids, and the bright blue sky. Oh, the mountain air!! I would have loved to join them but it’s not the kind of trip that my body can handle right now. Today, I’ve got a headache and it’s 30°C so I’m in the house with a cool fan and a massager on my shoulders. Being out there in the heat would have ramped this headache up so I’m glad to be here. I’m okay, I really am.

Lots has happened in the past three weeks since I wrote about sadness and many of you sent messages about how you were grateful that I wrote about the emotion without trying to fix it or make it prettier. I’m glad it meant something to you and I’m glad that staying in the emotion worked. It allowed me to release some tears and pent-up frustration and it was therapeutic.

Four days later, however, just as I was beginning to get some traction and feel motivated again to manage my chronic pain issues, we called an ambulance for a random back spasm that was so bad I couldn’t move without it seizing up into extreme pain. (Memories of past Endometriosis cysts bursting (sorry, gross) came into my mind!) Sixteen hours later, after a very colorful, sensory-filled day in the emergency room with various types of bodily fluids draining from our neighbors behind thin curtains, we were told that it was a muscle spasm. They checked for kidney stones, heart attack, diverticulitis, bowel obstruction, and all the biggies, and then after giving me the good stuff to relieve the pain I was sent home that night. I was relieved that it wasn’t anything else and also surprised. This was a first — regarding muscles.

If three weeks before was about sadness, then anger was the next emotion to hit hard. I wanted relief and I wanted it now. I waited two days and one very long night in and out of the bathtub trying to relieve the pain before we called 911. I begged God for mercy, for a miracle. I had already taken the morphine at home that the doctor had me on but nothing was touching this pain. I was mad at God. I wanted relief and he didn’t seem to hear my cries for help. I felt demanding and desperate. God seemed absent and I was functioning from many levels down the old polyvagal ladder (can you tell I’m in school?) where logic and reasoning also seemed distant. I was purely coping, purely in a great deal of physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual pain.

The day after we got home from the hospital, I was exhausted and still mad at God. I sat down in the living room to write to him in my journal (which is often how I pray). But as I opened up my journal to write, bing - bing - bing - my phone received three text messages from three different friends, in two different provinces and one in the USA. They said they had an urging from God that they were supposed to contact me but didn’t know why or if it meant anything. So, in faith and curiosity, they sent me a text.

I cried, again, but this time, humbled, grateful, and more humbled.

I tend to think that God will bring comfort in a certain way. Maybe it is how I have experienced moments of God’s close presence with me before but he is so much bigger than that.

God will not be put in a box, be predictable, or be on-demand for us when we want him to do something. This time, for whatever reason, God did hear my cries, and did answer, but through other people and not when I asked for help but three days later. That morning, I had such meaningful conversations with each of them as I realized God nudged them to contact me without any prior knowledge of the kind of weekend I just had.

So, today, I may be inside the house, nursing a headache on a beautiful day while my husband adventures in the mountains with our friends, but I‘m okay, I really am! 😊 I’ve been reminded by the grace of God that he DOES hear my prayers, he DOES love me and he WILL care for me and bring comfort but, in his way, in his timing, and for his purposes. And, as my concept of who God is has expanded, I feel greater courage to wait patiently next time, knowing that God will reveal more of who he is to me if I wait on Him.

I have no idea why God does things the way he does, but as my prof used to say in his prayer, “You are God and we are not.” I’m thankful that in God’s mercy, he continues to reveal more of himself to us as we seek him in prayer.

Has God revealed his presence to you recently? Has he spoken? Has your heart burned within you as you’re reading Scripture and you’ve wondered why? I would LOVE to hear your stories! Write me an email (I’ll keep confidential) and add to the expansion of my understanding of God as I learn through your experiences too!

This is not what I want to write.

In 2019, I asked for a referral to an expert bowel surgeon in another city. In 2020, we drove to Calgary and had a consult with him. My expectations were high, my hands were full of charts of my careful documentation of pain levels and medications, and symptoms. After an examination and tests, he decided that referring me to a reconstructive surgeon in my city would be the better idea.

Then covid hit.

It’s 2023 and I finally met her, the reconstructive surgeon.

Again, I had files of information and documented symptoms in Randy's (my husband's) bag in case she needed more proof of the pain that I’d been in. She spent an hour with us. She was kind and compassionate and professional. Then she said the words that I hate hearing, that I’ve heard so many times . . . “There’s nothing I can do right now to fix this for you.” She handed me Kleenex and gently described the plan of expert resources she is setting me up with, some of the best physiotherapists, pharmacists, a new surgeon, and a dietician that can offer help. I am grateful, but as soon as any doctor closes a file, or sets a paper down in their lap and folds their hands on top, I don’t hear much more they say from that point on because, I know what it means.

In 1994, I got a phone call from a very harsh surgeon who did my first laparoscopy. She said, “Heather, I have the results of the surgery.” I sat down on my living room floor. She continued, “You have a CHRONIC disease called Endometriosis. It is a very painful disease and there is no cure. The only thing you can do is get pregnant, take male hormones, or have a hysterectomy. All these options will relieve your pain a little. “

Thankfully there are better approaches to it now, but it is REALLY, REALLY, RARE, that someone with endometriosis can permanently relieve pain. It is a hard diagnosis to receive.

I am usually a bit more optimistic about it, but today, I’m sad. I’m completely sad. I took my glasses off while I was typing because they just kept fogging up with my tears.

I’m learning how to be sad.

It wasn’t modeled well for me in the 70s and I know that it still is difficult for some to know what to say so they say nothing or slap a Bible verse on or something perky. I’ve done it too, to myself and others.

I think the fear is that sadness feels like it will go too deep, too fast. I understand that.

But I think what I’ve been missing, is the richness of sadness which is, in the words of a friend who said about waiting, “it is a full act”. It is. And after a day of tears and rehydration, I know that I will always feel better.

Today, I’m alone because my husband is teaching a workshop. He left before I was out of bed and I’m still in bed. It’s 2 pm. I’ve got a pile of Kleenex beside me, my breakfast plate, and a thermos of coffee that is now emptied. It’s a beautiful day, and I’m in my bed, with a cool fan on my face, a massager on my lower back, pain meds now fully activated, and swollen eyes from the crying, which is now just a slow tear drip from one of my eyes at a time. It is slowing.

I’m learning from my counselor to live with “AND”.

So today, I am sad AND I’m going over to my inlaws tonight to be with the family that’s in town to celebrate a 91st birthday.

I’m still in bed AND will get out eventually.

I’m sad AND I have joy in my life more profound than this sadness can touch.

I’m grieving the original diagnosis of 30 years ago each time the doctor is unable to provide a solution for my pain that is quick or final AND I know how to manage the pain and do enjoyable things.

I’m angry at God today AND I love him and trust him.

I feel depleted and empty and lonely and discouraged AND I know this emotion is temporary. I will reach out to my loving group of friends and family soon and reengage in the life that I love.

But for now, I am sad AND ok.

I think sometimes I miss the richness and depths of what it means to be sad. We all know how crappy it feels to be comforted by someone who has not been there. It’s so light and sugary, it is distasteful. And I’ve done it. I’ve sprinkled sugar on someone’s grief just because I didn’t want to see it or hear it so I sugared it to make it more palatable for me. But that’s just selfish.

I’m not going to eat a tub of ice cream today. I think that one can stay in the movies. That’s not compassionate to me, not self-care. It’s kind of self-sabotage. I don’t want to do that.

I wish we had more rituals in our culture. I mean, when I hear from the doctor that she’s going to keep me on strong meds, that morphine will help me for a while (which I appreciate), that physio and a dietitian and a third consult with a bowel surgeon (another waiting season) will be helpful but that nothing will remove the disease or the wreckage that the disease has caused and the many surgeries have caused, I still have to walk out the same door as I came in and walk past the gift shop at the hospital and the staff at the front door. I mean, what if there was a ritual of sadness that was honored? Maybe it seems crazy to you and perhaps it will be to me too after I write this out, but let’s just imagine for a minute.

What if any bad news in a hospital or clinic or medical center was honored with a special hallway, private elevators, and a crying room? Ya, maybe it’s crazy, but what if? What if we permitted each other, invited each other, and expected each other to be sad through those times? We would allow space to take time off work, or friends would know that we are sad and just show up with tiny gifts of love, food, and their presence. And we would receive it.

I mean, I think, since I started this blog in 2013, this is the first, purely sad post that I’ve written. That shows you how scary it is for me to admit a pure emotion and not be afraid to express it in this way or feel that I need to protect you from it or me. I wanted to encourage others on here. To remind you that you’re not alone in your pain AND also, I wanted a place to talk about it for me, whether anyone read it or not, I wanted, needed to write. But it’s hard. I want to wrap it up with something hopeful and positive so that you don’t feel weird. But I think that the whole point of emotion is that we are allowed to feel it. We were created in the image of God. That means that God created emotions in us because it reflects him. When we hide emotions or call them wrong, we are shutting down part of our reflection of God.

But usually, I write something like this, then edit, edit, maybe go for a counseling session myself, “get a grip”, “wrap my head around it”, and feel happier, then I write this with some substance, a gift for you.

Today, I’m thinking, I might just leave it as is.

Maybe, allowing myself to feel sad as a “full act”, is still hopeful because it’s not the final act.

And now, to get out of bed, because there is a celebration of the 91st birthday of my father-in-law that I don’t want to miss!!

One of my main fight points (and fairly convincing I thought), was that if I was better, healthier, with no more surgeries, no more meds, no more resting so much, then I could get on with life and do more for God!

I mean, I had a compassionate heart and a creative mind, I could learn skills quickly (except math), and I felt like an equipped, teachable, ready and willing participant for whatever God was doing to heal this broken world and draw us to himself. 

I wanted to be better so I could do more and get on with life. 

I wanted less pain so I could get on with life. 

I wanted to heal so I could get on with life. 

I wanted to get on with life.

Yet, somewhere in my pleading, crying, and begging, laying on the couch in my familiar curled-up position, heating pad on my back, icepack on my head, meds in my system, I heard God say (or whisper, nudge, speak) “This is life.” 

These were the three most discouraging and relieving words I've ever heard. 

I had never really known weakness in my life up until this point and if I did I surely didn't show it. I was a tough girl —proud. THIS is life. This IS life. This is LIFE?  It didn’t matter how many ways I rolled it around in my mind it all sounded bad.

This memory came up for me as I was crawling into bed last night. I had just finished a strange day. That morning when I woke up, my pain was so high, I had a fever and I was shaking, both cold and hot at the same time. My abdomen was sore to the touch and I knew it was going to be a tough day. I took my meds and went back to sleep and stayed in bed all day until the evening. Had my breakfast around 6 pm and then back to bed at 10:30 pm. It was a loooong day of pain. 

It has been 30 years since I realized and accepted the reality that God has allowed, given, permitted, or planned (?) that pain would stay in my life. I didn’t understand then and I don’t understand now either. But, pain and weakness have been my life. Doctor appointments, sorting medication into pill boxes, medication refills at the pharmacy, appointments with specialists, and more specialists have been my life. Canceling plans, and saying no has been my life. Staying at home, not driving (due to medication), asking for help, admitting I need to leave places early, and encouraging my husband to go snowboarding with friends while I stay home, all these have been my life. 

But what I know now that I did not know then, is that when we accept the life that we've been given, and the circumstances for whatever reason God allows them to exist, something happens. God opens up space in our lives that we didn't know was there. 

Have you ever had one of those dreams where you're walking through your home and it's familiar but as you open a door, suddenly, there's more room? And more rooms. And you realize that your home has all this expanded space that you've never seen before and you’re really thankful about! That's what it's like! 

We run from weakness. We cover it up with words like, “I'm fine.” We don’t want to appear as if our lives feel less-than, or imperfect, or falling apart, or not strong, or not in control. Even now after living with this disease for 30 years and the complications that managing it has brought up, my hopes still rise each time I have an appointment with a doctor, “Maybe this time they’ll find something they can easily fix!” I have an appointment in on May 10th days with two surgeons. I’m curious to hear their plan. Maybe they CAN fix something for me. But I’m also very aware that the surgeons we’ve talked with in the past have been so hesitant to do anything out of the risk that they will make it worse. So, as I plan for this upcoming appointment, I’m remembering what I’ve learned in the past. 

When the doctors say, “I’m sorry, there is nothing more I can do for you at this time except offer more pain management meds or techniques,” it’s devastating, temporarily. I’ve learned how to live in it, how to live this life that I’ve been given. When pain is breath-taking (literally) and my body is exhausted from coping, when the hours seem long, and the clock moves very slowly, it is in those quiet hours in the darkness of my room, medications not quite cutting through the pain, in the suffering, there is a sweet presence of God. A warmth in my heart (not the fever), tears come quickly as I sink into the reality that pain stays, but also, God is with me. I can literally feel His presence close. So, I say, “Hey God, thanks for being here”. 

I'm loved. It's a deep, deep happiness, an enduring one, not a jump up and party kind of happy, just a quiet, solid contentment. The space that has opened up in my life to include weakness and pain is vast . . . and as I wander through these new expansive places I watch fears diminish and insecurity float away, worries get quiet and confidence builds. Clarity and creativity increase. Compassion for myself now seems like offering worship to God. He created this body. He gave it to me. He promised to be with me through everything and this comfort that I feel, this internal unconditional love and comfort is from him, and so I worship Him. All the worship overflows into generosity for other people, and compassion for their suffering and so I pray for them. Because of the pain and weakness in my life, I’ve opened those doors into an expansive, full and open interior life where I can be still and know that He is God. He is perfect and so His love for me is perfect. I can rest in my imperfection because of His love and because of his purposes that are being played out in my life and through my life. This is my life! And I’m glad.

"God's a safe house for the battered, a sanctuary during bad times, the moment you arrive, you relax, you're never sorry you knocked.” Psalm 9:9-10

It’s not a new series and of course, it is intended for entertainment, but the competitors are actually alone with cameras and a microphone that they set up to document their time. They all have a basic idea of how to light a fire, search for food, make a shelter, and find water. If they run into trouble or decide to quit, they can push a button on a radio and a rescue team will come to pick them up. Some competitors keep it really simple, while others carve a guitar or weave fishing baskets or build a chair. The rest of it is clearly a mental game.

I find it fascinating especially as we munch on our dinner and point to the camera saying, “Oh, oh I’d keep working on the shelter, why are you stopping?”

But what I’m learning, is that they can’t too do much or too little of one activity. If they build the ultimate shelter and expend all their energy doing so, then if it rains the next day and they don’t collect any firewood, they’ll sit in their beautiful shelter and shiver all day. Or, if they concentrate on fishing and don’t secure any fresh water, they’ll enjoy a delicious salty fish dinner with no water, risking dehydration.

Sometimes, I feel that I don’t get enough large amounts of time to accomplish anything. I’m sure you can relate. For me, when pain surges a few times a day and I need to respond by lying down and resting, whatever I was working on needs to wait. If I decide to just push through and keep working on my studies or prepping food in the kitchen, the pain will ultimately get worse and I’ll be in rough shape later on. The best approach for me is to do small amounts of basic tasks each day that accomplish my goals in tiny steps.

The problem with this, however, is that it requires patience. I might start prepping food for supper and feel light-headed and need to lie down. Or, I might be working on getting documents together for our taxes and feel a migraine coming on just as I’m finding some momentum. It seems that I’m always greedy for more. More time, more productivity, more effectiveness, more understanding, more pages read, etc.

I’m intrigued by two things while watching this series: pace and patience. Thankfully, I can ponder this inside my home and not huddled under a rainy tarp.

Perhaps the reason fitness clubs are less busy in March is that the frantic pace at which some may start a new fitness plan is not sustainable because the desire for results is so strong. It’s hard to wait for things. I have a phone consult with a surgeon in a few days and I’ve been on the wait list for two years!! Two years too long!

However, as I watch these people outlast the other competitors on the show, I observe pace. They chop enough wood for the fire, but not too much so as to not use too many calories if they don’t have enough food to refuel. They explore their surroundings but keep an eye on the sun so they can get back to their shelter before dark. And they wait. They wait for food, water, rest, and sleep. The successful ones find things to focus on while they wait so they don’t get impatient or impulsive.

As I consider my goals, how can I add pace and patience?

Here are a few things I’ve been trying that maybe you’ll find helpful as well.

1. Once I drag my weary body out of bed to the couch, I listen to Lectio 365 first thing in the morning. I can close my eyes, sip my coffee and just listen. It’s short and so good.

2. Listening to Scripture - Because I’m in school these days and reading a lot, I choose to listen to Scripture instead and stay on the couch a little longer, still sipping coffee, eyes starting to open.

3. Journaling - I like to write out prayers, in a conversation style. I ask questions, reflect on what I’ve just listened to, describe my upcoming day, and ask for wisdom. I find that if I don’t write, my heart and head get too full. Somedays I write many pages, other days just a simple paragraph. No rules.

   • If I skip these first three “tasks”, I notice a shallowness in my thoughts, scattered ideas, and unfocused, and I can become sloppy in my communication and boundaries.

   • And then for the rest of the day, I take my to-do list, my hopes, and plans and do them in tiny increments. For instance, I’ll study for 30 minutes, and then clean just the bathroom sink. Study some more and answer a few emails. I use sticky notes to remind me where I left off in projects and am practicing being content with tiny steps. It is working for me.

     Pace and patience. Do you think these might help you as well?

It’s the end of the first week of January.

Phew. Big exhale . . . . . . .

I meant for it to be a transition week where I would rest up from the fun and fullness of December and and slowly begin to look at my to-do list but as the week progressed, so did my speed.

Suddenly, I felt the need to complete things “so that I could focus on my course work” this next week. A legitimate sounding reason but not really necessary. I like studying and I’ve learned the trick of studying within 30 seconds of sitting down. This keeps me from reorganizing the room or whatever tasks tempt me to procrastinate instead of studying.

So, why did I get distracted last week? Why did I think I had to accomplish things first. The to-do list is never really done. I am used to doing things a little at at time. Something else was driving me to this strange goal. I decided to sit with that question in my time with the Lord this morning.

I wrote about it in my journal and then listened to an audio version of Scripture on my phone. I watched the sunlight stream through the kitchen and onto the glass of our fireplace, it echoed the shape of the kitchen chair legs and created an image that looked like prison bars. I thought to myself that trying to finish this project last week felt like a prison in my mind. Then this other thought entered,

you created that prison for yourself

Whoa. Gulp. Ah . . . yes, I did. I sensed the conviction of God’s Spirit speaking truth.

The verse that I had chosen to focus on this next year, the one that I put up everywhere so that I’m reminded while brushing my teeth or sitting at my desk or use as an image on my laptop screen is this . . .

“I’m asking God for one thing, only one thing:
To live with him in his house my whole life long.
I’ll contemplate his beauty; I’ll study at his feet.” Psalm 27:4

And yet, the project that I was doing seemed to take over my brain and compelled me not only to conquer it but to conquer it fast and to the detriment of other priorities.

I know better. So did Paul and here is how he explained it:

“It happens so regularly that it’s predictable. The moment I decide to do good, sin is there to trip me up. I truly delight in God’s commands, but it’s pretty obvious that not all of me joins in that delight. Parts of me covertly rebel, and just when I least expect it, they take charge.  I’ve tried everything and nothing helps. I’m at the end of my rope. Is there no one who can do anything for me? Isn’t that the real question? The answer, thank God, is that Jesus Christ can and does. He acted to set things right in this life of contradictions where I want to serve God with all my heart and mind, but am pulled by the influence of sin to do something totally different.” Romans 7:21-25

Am I saying that working on a project is sin? Maybe. If it means that I am avoiding something else that God has asked me to do. In my life, God has been clear what my priorities need to be and anything that takes my eyes off of that is a distraction. I was going to spend this week in a prayerful mindset, resting and allowing God to direct me in different areas of my life. I was going to listen. I was going to read and write and let this week be a fresh start to a new year! But instead, I got consumed with this project.

What about you? How did the first week of January go for you?

I thank you Lord, that You love me enough to be involved in the intricate, smallest details of my life. Thank you that You care about my well being, my rest, my shoulders not being all tensed up. You invite me to learn from You, to do things how you would, in your timing. Lift my head and attention up from the distractions and my self-imposed accomplishment schedule. Thank You that Your forgiveness reaches me even in these tiny situations and that You want my full, undivided attention. Thank you that I matter, and each one who is reading this matters to You too. Reveal truth to us Lord, and help us to discern Your voice amidst the noise. amen.

About six months ago, I had a dream that was so vivid and answered a cry of my heart that I didn’t even know was there.

It was so meaningful and profound (to me) that I have just pondered it close to my heart. But today, I thought I’ll share it. Maybe it will mean something to you. I hope that it does.

The dream …

I was running (as is common in dreams) except this time, instead of trying to run while my feet stay stuck in one place or in slow motion, I was actually moving forward!

There was something chasing me, although I couldn’t see who it was, I just knew that I wanted to get as far away as I could.

Coming up to a large house on a corner, almost like a tall coffee shop/bookstore type of building, I banged on the door with my fist. Somehow I knew that it was a safe place and somehow I knew that I wanted to be inside. The door opened and a large man with kind eyes welcomed me in.

I knew immediately that I could trust him and yet I felt ashamed of the panicked way that I showed up at his door and the shabby clothes I was wearing. I looked around and saw so many people but none of them looked like me.

He draped a beautiful coat around my shoulders and so I put my arms in. It had an asian design with tiny buttons down the front and pale colors, with embossed embroidery designs all over it. As soon as I had it on, I realized that I knew this coat and knew that once you wore it, you belonged to this house and you were protected. Somehow I knew that already. I had seen these coats before. I felt safe and warm and a little stronger than I had just a few minutes before.

The man led me through the house, showing me around each floor. it was busy, lots of people working and talking and laughing. they smiled at me but didn’t interfere with the tour and didn’t seem to mind that I was cautiously walking through. I was glad to see how happy everyone was to be in this house but to me, it felt too loud and overwhelming. I asked if there were other floors I could see and he led me up the stairs to an attic.

He opened the door and I smiled. It was quiet, and I noticed a woman reading a book in a rocking chair. She looked up and smiled peacefully and then went back to reading. (I observed that noone seemed anxious or startled easily.) On the floor there were cushions and pillows and little quiet nooks for reading or napping and three skylights letting the sunshine in. I wanted to stay there but I wasn’t sure if I was allowed … but I did know that if I was, this is exactly where I wanted to stay.

then . . . I woke up.

My pain level has been so high this past year that after many tests and treatments, I’ve been referred to specialists for kidney and liver and in the meantime, my doctor has put me on high pain medication for comfort. I’m grateful but also am aware that this is not over. Sometimes, this reality gets so heavy, so burdensome that I’m just exhausted, much like the feeling I had on the main floor of that house in my dream. So I began to wonder, what if I could stay in that attic? I mean, what would that look like in my real life, if I asked for what I really wanted? What would that look like?

Both my doctors and counselor have encouraged me to be gracious and show myself compassion and so I’ve been practicing that and have made some progress in learning how to ask myself what I need and then take steps to care for that. But to stay in the attic? To ask to stay there? That is a whole new level of self-compassion that was fascinating to me.

And so I did. I prayed “God, me again. Can I stay here? Can I choose quiet and restful environments? Can I choose to not participate in volunteering at my church or neighborhood? Can I say no to good things even if they are good in order to rest? Can I lean into this self-compassion thing to such a degree that I recover some deeply needed rest? I can’t imagine that I will need to stay here forever, but I might be more of an attic-girl than a main-floor-girl and I imagine that is okay because that is how You’ve created me. Right?”

I grew up observing in people around me that especially as a female, I didn’t really have permission to honestly say what I need and go after those things. But that kind of thinking keeps clashing against the gracious love of Jesus that I’ve experienced over the years and the way that I read how Jesus treated women in the stories in the Bible. So, I asked.

It had been about six months of deep rest, of “attic living”, reading, praying, sitting in the backyard watching the birds build a nest, watering the flowers, building a fire and not inviting anyone over. Just resting. And during this time, Jesus calmed my mind, flooding my heart with his love, his grace, his permission to just be. I realized how many times I “heard” the sound from the main floor of life, of church, of the neighborhood and felt a pang of guilt but then moved back away from the door, back deep into the corners of the attic to rest. It has been an amazing and sacred time.

But here is the interesting thing, during this time, God has helped me hear the deepest cries of my own heart, my own desires, away from the needs of others, I’ve been able to hear my own. And so, after six months of attic-living, I registered with Kairos - through Houston School of Theology to pursue a masters in counseling! I started a few months ago now, and LOVE it! This kind of work will take me deep into the brokenness of my own and other people’s lives but having experienced attic-living now, I can invite others to do the same!

So I invite you to consider, are there deep desires in your own heart that you can’t hear because of the noise or because of the environments you are in or choose to participate in? Can I encourage you to hear the invitation of Jesus . . .

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me. Watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn how to live freely and lightly!” - Jesus, Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)

I now know … not to stain the fence in the wind.

The day was looking like a perfect day. Sunshine was shining, I had all the supplies ready, I shook the can and stirred it up and then lifted the brush up out of the can and above my face to reach the highest fence board and … black freckles - face, neck and arms!

However, that is not what made me angry.

The fence boards were extremely dry. It is a south facing fence so it gets really hot from the sun and has weathered surprisingly well. We had a chain link fence originally and so when we decided to build a solid fence, we left the chain link on one side which prevented us from staining this side for a few years.

As I brushed the stain onto the boards, they soaked it up immediately and it looked as if I’d done nothing at all! I was already through half a can and not nearly as far along as I would have liked. This frustrated me.

But I knew it wasn’t the fence I was angry at. I had just been to the pain clinic that morning and received both good and bad news.

The good news is that the doctor assessed my situation, did a bunch of tests and determined that I appeared to have a good quality of life, a good team of doctors and professionals for my care, good habits in place, a purpose, a faith and good people around me. I agreed and felt thankful. But he also said that there may not be anything more he could do for me regarding pain. He did have a few suggestions that I could try (which I will) but other than that he sent me home.

I’ve been here before — many times. There’s nothing more that can be done. Nothing?

So as I slapped the stain onto the fence, I began to reflect that it is not the fence’s fault that it is thirsty. It has been neglected and has taken a lot of heat over the years. I began to think of the fence in a tender way (strange? yes I know) applying stain and letting it soak into the boards to nourish and protect it. I imagined how refreshing that must be.

My body requires so much care. It can’t seem to get enough nourishment or resources to keep it healthy for a very long period of time. Pain is exhausting, pain interrupts sleep, pain hinders me from doing things that I usually love to do and it requires so many medications, treatments and trips to a handful of specialists who help me. I’m grateful for the resources, but I get angry at my body sometimes. I get angry at the stresses of life that exacerbate my pain and feel like that south-facing sun side of my body is getting burned, day after day after day.

How about you?

How are you feeling?

What do you need?

“If you’ll hold on to me for dear life,” says God, “I’ll get you out of any trouble. I’ll give you the best of care if you’ll only get to know and trust me. Call me and I’ll answer, be at your side in bad times; I’ll rescue you, then throw you a party. I’ll give you a long life, give you a long drink of salvation!” Psalm 91:13-14

My pain may not be gone, but my heart feels refreshed (after a big cry, prayer time which kinda turned into a nap!)

I know that God is with me — my closest companion — and that whatever I go through in life, God will never leave! That’s pretty amazing when you think about it.

Sometimes my journal entries look identical to each other. I usually write as a prayer, so I’ll start with the words “Good morning God..” and thank him for the day, for life, for his presence and for my loving husband and kids. Then I’ll write about my present state, which, since mornings are the most difficult for pain, usually starts with, “Pain is high this morning Lord, I’m not sure how this day is going to be ….” and on and on.

It’s my discipline, my habit, my practice of acknowledging the Creator of this world, of me, of my crazy, chronically ill body and of my day. Julia Cameron, in her book The Right to Write, describes writing three pages in the morning, calls them “morning pages” and this is very similar to that idea. After about three full pages of writing, usually a deeper joy or fear or question emerges and that is what I can examine further. I write to know what I think, how I feel.

But, yesterday, words felt broken. Nothing worked. Parts felt like they were missing or the wrong size. I couldn’t find them, like a tape measure. Words were broken.

So I borrowed some.

My husband is an artist and before the paintings get shipped to the galleries, they sit on the floor, leaning up against the wall or hanging on the wall for a final look. The one that is now about to be shipped away is of the West Coast of Canada and it is a small, rock island with trees on top and crashing waves all around it. I’ve been laying on the couch, resting and enjoying it’s view.

So I tried to enter the scene, became the rock and wrote this from the voice of the waves:

“I have crushed you, but you are not broken.

Edges are smooth, and nothing is wrong.

It’s your stillness in the tension

that makes you so strong.”

Somehow, this helped me process how I was feeling and a new wave of courage was found.

Do you have words today? Do they work or feel broken? If so, try borrowing from something else to express or explore what is deeper in your heart and mind.

Peace.

When I was 14, I had a canoe accident.

It was summer camp and we received some instruction but generally were at the mercy of the river’s current which at the time was moving at a moderate pace.  There were about 12 of us teenagers, a handful of leaders, some food and supplies, sunshine, wind and the river. 

The day was beautiful. We splashed and raced each other and the cold water felt good in the sunshine.

As we neared the end of the trip, there were some small rapids and large boulders that we had to navigate. Our canoe spun sideways, hit a boulder, tipped sideways and we fell in. 

The river was waist deep so when I fell, my knee hit a sharp rock on the bottom. The pain was excruciating. The current pushed me forward with one good leg to find my balance. I floated and hopped on one leg in an angle toward the river bank to try to climb out before getting too far away from the group. As I reached the edge, I grasped for anything that would stop me, but it was mossy and soft with only some weak, thin green branches leaning out. Finally, I let go of the grasping and floated down toward a large branch that had fallen down. I grabbed and hung on tight while the rest of the group ran towards me to pull me up onto the bank. I was exhausted and my legs were frozen from the glacier fed river. My knee was deeply cut and they wrapped me in a blanket and let me go sit in the back seat of the bus which had been warming in the sun all day. 

Suffering, I believe, is like a river. It has a pace and speed that we can’t control. It happens when we least expect it and there is no way to prepare. Noone is exempt from suffering or losses and if one’s life is easy, their life is surrounded by others who suffer, mentally, sexually, emotionally, spiritually, physically, relationally, financially, etc., etc., etc. 

When I was diagnosed with Endometriosis in my early 20’s and told it was a chronic disease, those rapids thrashed me! I scrambled to climb back into the canoe pretending that nothing had really happened. I wanted life to continue in the same way but it couldn’t. When I finally let go (after about 5 years, 3 surgeries and many appointments), and allowed myself to float with the current, and be curious about where it would take me, I began to understand what the “little griefs” are and how to accept them, work with them and let them be something that informs my journey.

I’ve learned the term “little grief” from someone, somewhere (and to that person whoever they are, I give credit!). The idea is that when we first learn we have a diagnosis or someone we love has died or we are deeply betrayed by someone, we experience GRIEF. And it’s huge! It is life altering! Then, over time, as we come to accept it, we no longer feel the large emotions that came with that initial loss. But we still have little losses or “little grief”. The doctor appointment we have been waiting for gets postponed = little grief. The graduation dinner we attend for our son has an amazing dinner but we bring our own liquid food in a jar because of digestion issues = little grief. We may be on so much medication that we can no longer drive so we ask others for help = little grief. We miss backyard bbq’s because of pain = little grief.

It has been in these little griefs that I hear God most profoundly. The little griefs hurt, not like a sharp rock to the knee in a cold river kind of hurt, but more like a small bump on the other leg. It’s enough to remind me that I’m floating in a river that I cannot control. Each little bump is a reminder that I am vulnerable, weak, need to be interdependant with others and surrendered to God’s love for me. There is a flow to the river that has a purpose, it is going somewhere and when we stop fighting it, it can even become lovely and interesting. There are sights, sounds and sensations that we will experience just because we are floating and not fighting.

I’ve become a chronic-pain-illness floater, and learned somewhat how to navigate the bumps, the little griefs and have gained some experience and muscle in this area. If you are feeling like you’re thrashing and fighting the rapids instead of floating and want to talk to someone about it, I’d be happy to talk with you. Let me know how I can help.

Float friends, float.

Three people sat with me in a doctor’s waiting room this week. The man to my left was not at all happy to be there and intensely scrolled through something on his phone. The lady to my right was so calm that this appeared to be just one of many errands that day. And the man who sat nearest the door was shaking and holding his left arm. Every vein on his very thin, tanned face and head were bulging and I worried his heart would give out right then and there! But the four of us sat together, in silence.

We were there to receive help for our broken bodies even though nothing would be fixed that day.

It’s a vulnerable place.

Once you enter the building and walk down the hall, you enter into whichever door applies to you and in doing so, revealing something of the nature for why you’re there. Yet no one really knows the story about each other.

In my second appointment that same day, I sat in another waiting room, this time with just women and all in hospital gowns. I smiled at them with my clothes and purse under my arm, and sat down. This was a silent group too. I wanted to say something, to break the ice, to say, “Hey, as much as I don’t want to be here, I’m glad to not be alone!” But I didn’t. I sat silently with them. Most people took out their phones, a few stared straight ahead, and there were some who just leaned back and closed their eyes.

It’s a strange thing, this idea of silence and privacy. I understand and I’m happy to sit quietly by myself. But, there is a high probability that some of the people there that day, went home and relayed their experience on social media, expressing to friends and strangers alike what happened. We reveal what we want to reveal and when we want to and to whom we want to. We carefully curate our experiences and our perspective of them. I guess that’s what I’m doing right now!

I just wonder what our world (or waiting rooms) would be like if we were a little more courageous in our vulnerability in the actual moment. This week, I sat silently and respected people’s privacy including my own. I observed that we were all there for different but related issues and that was all. I’m okay with that. I’m just curious.

It made me think about church.

I’m grateful for ours. I am guaranteed that someone will ask me how I am doing. But not just as a greeting. They’ll really mean, “HOW are you doing?” and they’ll stick around for me to answer. It’s a lovely place of lovely people who understand that we are better together than alone. I like this. I wonder how the healthcare system could be more like this.

Maybe that is what church is all about. Maybe as we come together and care for each other, we catch just a little taste of what God’s love is really like. And if we allow ourselves to love and be loved then when we sit in waiting rooms that feel cold and lonely, we will remember how good it felt to be seen and known and maybe, just maybe, we try offering that to someone else.

Now, I’m definitely not saying that chatty-ness in a waiting room equals God’s love. Nope. Not at all. (Sometimes, in the name of trying to love people we can really be insensitive to their actual needs!) We need to be respectful, discerning and compassionate. But if we are not experiencing the genuine care of fellow Christians (spiritual brothers and sisters) in such a way that our own emotional tanks are being filled up, then how do we enter the waiting rooms of our world with compassion and empathy?

We need each other don’t we.

Today I was invited to a coffee visit with my Aunt from out of town and then a backyard fire tonight with some long-time friends. Pain however, had it’s own agenda and so I stayed home. Although sometimes there is a pang of sadness to not attend these things, I have discovered the joy of missing out.

In missing out, I’ve discovered how peaceful a quiet house can be.

I’ve learned what my priorities are and have experimented (out of necessity) what happens when I say no. Nothing happens!

True friendships endure both the yes’s and the no’s.

I finish boring but essential tasks around the house.

I can hear myself think, dig deeper into reading and journalling and come to a more full understanding of what really matters.

I have learned to resist the temptation to fill every moment with an activity.

I can stare out the window, watch birds, enjoy a sunset and listen to the wind. It’s like free therapy for the soul!

Pain and illness have given me a gift that I never would have pursued on my own: doing less, but living more!

Tonight, after a long day of pain, I am grateful.

“The life-maps of God are right, showing the way to joy.” Psalm 19

Since becoming gluten-free, I’m definitely not as motivated to bake. That’s probably a good thing as a full cookie jar is very tempting.

One of the things I love about baking however, is tasting the batter. It’s so good and it’s also a chance to test and see if the correct ingredients have come together in the right way. If not, maybe it can be corrected (or thrown out) before it is committed to the baking pan and final product.

Everything in our lives so far has been like a recipie. We’ve added, removed, sifted, measured, made mistakes, experimented, lost, added more and combined into a large life-bowl. And now and then we look at it and taste the batter to see how it is coming together. This is usually how we realize something is off. Or someone else experiences us in a conversation and depending on their response and feedback, we get an idea of went wrong or is missing. So we review our ingredients:

Hmm, yeah, that’s not going to taste very good.

So how do we get so unbalanced? Why do some ingredients get omitted while others are added in huge quantitites?

I wish I had a simple answer.

It does however, have something to do with what we desire the end product to be.

For instance, if we want to sell our home by a certain date, we might fix it up, clean and add extra finishes that make it more appealing to a buyer. We may be more focused on this project for a short amount of time in order to achieve this goal. Our lives may be unbalanced but only for a short period until we can add and delete things. Usually those time-constrained projects work because we are forced by time and money to deal with our to-do lists.

However, when our goals are not clear, we drift . . . and we drift in the areas of our weakness.

If we are fearful, we will check the news excessively, re-read emails we’ve already sent to imagine how the other person might have perceived our choice of language. If we are prideful, we will work very hard to be right, to be perfect or have the right excuse when we are not. If we are co-dependant, we will spend all our energy thinking about others’ needs and ignore our own.

So, Heather, you may be thinking, what are you suggesting?

I’m suggesting this:

God has designed a platform, a space, an environment = prayer, in which he invites us to speak to him, honestly, anytime, about our feelings, thoughts, dreams and fears. NOTHING is off limits. We have this daily/moment-by-moment opportunity to get real with ourselves and God. Paying attention to our stiff shoulders, headaches, wandering thought-loops, knot in our stomachs or bursts of anger or tears is one way to observe/taste and correct the recipie. Or maybe someone else has noticed something about us and made comments. We may need to talk to someone about the excessive ingredients that we’ve been using as a means of coping and instead gain instruction on how to use less and add new, healthier, more balanced ingredients. By coming to God in prayer, often throughout the day, we allow ourselves to rest in the comfort and insight and forgiveness of a God who knows us better than we know ourselves.

If you’ve been unbalanced for awhile or life is stressful and you feel unaware of anything except the current crisis in front of you, here are a few ideas to assist you in getting straightened out:

1. Seek counsel. Counsellors are skilled at helping us see ourselves honestly by asking significant questions.

2. Ask a friend. Many times, I’ve asked my friends or husband to let me talk for awhile and then assess what they hear I’m trying to express. They can often see through my words to my feelings underneath. It’s helpful … if I’m open to hearing their feedback! :)

3. Write, write, write. In Julia Cameron’s book, The Right to Write, she describes something called morning pages. The idea is to write for three full pages about anything, let your mind wander and unload. Often, for me, by the second page, my true feelings start to show up. It takes me longer sometimes, but the more I do it, the more in touch I am with my internal landscape.

4. Talk outloud to God. I’ve been experimenting with vocalizing my prayers when I’m alone in the house, and sitting with God - so to speak - on my living room couch. He has invited us to come to him anytime about anything. I often don’t trust that God is strong enough to let me share anything with him. I’m afraid of overburdening him. (Funny isn’t it? Me, trying to protect the God of the universe, creator of this world!)

5. Art Therapy. There are times where words do not express what we need them to or we may feel so foggy that we don’t have words. So instead, try using visual objects to hear your heart.

• Put on some peaceful, instrumental music and draw or paint, anything. You can write words, sketch objects or people. Use stick people, be messy, be courageous in articulating with images what’s perculating in your heart.

• Find a magazine and cut out images that might represent how you’re feeling these days. Use words, colors, shapes, textures, expressions … without judgment … and make a collage of images. You will see something start to emerge. Maybe the colors are dark, expressions are down, sad or fearful. Or maybe you’ll see that you’re drawn to butterflies, flowers, bright colors and happy expressions. Does this match or contrast your current situation? That might be an indication of the desires of your heart. This may seem silly, but it is very effective.

Spend a day listening to music. And pay attention to the songs that match your current life situation. Collect them. Make a playlist. Save them. Write out lyrics if you want. By the end of the day, you’ll have a collection of words that these songs created articulating your heart’s thoughts for you.

• Watch a movie. Is there a movie you’re drawn to? Why? As you watch it, jot down in a notebook the scenes or words that stand out to you. Why do they? What does this mean to you?

And just in case you’re starting to feel a bit worried that I only mentioned prayer once or twice, ALL of this can be prayer! Our attention can be on God all day, through everything that we do! And as we do pay attention, as our eyes and ears are open, God WILL guide, comfort, teach, correct, and love us! We are in good hands when we surrender our control to Him and depend entirely on him for the right recipie for our lives. He has a good design in mind for our formation, let’s let Him help us become something amazing - for His glory and for our joy!

From one of my favourite Psalms:

“God made my life complete when I placed all the pieces before him. When I got my act together, he gave me a fresh start. Now I’m alert to God’s ways; I don’t take God for granted. Every day I review the ways he works; I try not to miss a trick. I feel put back together, and I’m watching my step. God rewrote the text of my life when I opened the book of my heart to his eyes.” Psalm 18:20-24

I would guess that most of us have a default mode.

It kicks in automatically.

It means that we don’t think about it or make concious choices, it just starts it’s default mode automatically.

For instance, when you get a stressful phone call or email, what do you do? Eat ice cream? Pace? Scroll through instagram? Bite fingernails?

My default mode is more information. I want to know more. I want to search all the possible outcomes or different people’s opinions on things. I want to order books from the library and learn. I like learning. But this default mode for me is often not about learning, it’s about coping. It’s about control.

Let’s say that I’m waiting for test results from a MRI (a true example from this past week). When I stop to reflect (which sometimes I just forget to do), I realize my core emotion that is creeping up is fear. What will this mean? What will it reveal? What should I be prepared for? Fear. Plain old fear.

So, coping then looks like trying to ease that fear by allowing my default mode to kick in … and acquiring more information. But as I do, as I sit on the couch, curled up, body tense as I strive to rest the laptop comfortably on my knees, straining my neck in weird positions for much longer than I intended to, I do acquire more information. But I also acquire a stiff neck and a full mind.

Thriving is a whole other story. It is not based in fear but in love.

Thriving is about asking ourselves what makes me well? What nourishes my mind, heart, soul and body? Is it a contrived, awkward position on the couch staring at a screen for hours? Nope.

It is about being compassionate to myself realizing that this is stressful for me. So instead, I choose to do what would make me well. I choose to drink lots of water, walk, clean the house or ask for help with it. It’s about paying bills, cleaning our desks, filing papers, watching a hilarious movie while chopping up veggies in the kitchen. It’s about being with friends and sharing truthful stories about how we are really doing and caring and being cared for by others. It’s about watching or reading the news with a critical mind AND the wisdom to know we weren’t meant to know what’s going on around the world every 30 minutes or whenever we get a tweet or email or text. We still have to take of our own lives.

And for those of us who place our trust in God, it is about prayer — all day long prayer — conversing with God, listening, waiting, meditating, reading or listening to his word, praising, lamenting, listening, rejoicing, resting, inquiring, resting silently. It is about grabbing our lazy brains by the shoulders and saying, “Hey brain, smarten up. Thanks for trying to protect me but I will choose what we think about and it’s going to be intentional and good and it’s going to be about what makes us thrive and it’s going to be surrendered to God’s will in my life! So, get ready, because I’m paying attention now. It’s manual now, not automatic, not default brain anymore!!”

I think that we all have great intentions but our default modes are powerful. They sneak in when we’re not looking and we let our fears take over the controls in our brains and bodies and then before we know it, one empty bucket of ice cream or chip bag or a growing pile of laundry, we feel lousy and wonder why.

Here’s some great encouragement from the apostle Paul to the church in Rome many years ago but still so relevant today:

“So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you.” Romans 12:1-2 (The Message)

Let’s be people who understand our value. We are worth being intentional in our lives. We are worth taking care of ourselves. We are worth paying attention to the default modes in our brains and stopping — to reflect on what our brain is trying to protect us from —and then choosing a new way. We can still care for others and pay attention to what’s happening in the world but we can do it with intention! Choosing to thrive!

I’m not talking about lamenting.

Lamenting is a beautiful, hidden gift that many of us fear we are allowed to open or use. Inspired by David of the Psalms, I’ve been practicing lamenting - writing and speaking my anger and frustration to God openly and without hesitation. The joy of this experience is that in storming into the great throne room of the heavens in prayer, I’ve found a warm, tender, understanding God and this both comforts and frightens me. What kind of God allows such honesty? What if I say too much? But this is what God invites us to do through lament.

Complaining, on the other hand, is a whole other story.

When you’re with someone who is complaining, it’s like watching someone eat with their mouth open.  You’re sitting across the table from them, engaged in good conversation, and then suddenly, all you can focus on is the moist mashing and crunching and swirling food around their teeth until they swallow. It is all encompassing and hard to watch. The word bolus is disgusting for a reason and meant to be contained within a closed mouth.

Complaining is a self-defeating practice. It lays out all the problems as one sees them, leaving out important facts that may inform the whole story and it turning one’s attention toward putting the entire blame for one’s unhappiness on someone else. Pointing fingers. Assigning blame.

Again, this is different than confronting someone you love with specific actions that they have done to harm you. Confrontation is on the path of reconcilliation. It is sitting with someone at a table, engaged in good conversation, and they push their plate aside, look you in the eyes and firmly speak honest words about an injury in the relationship. It can be a beautiful and essential gift in that can heal and grow authentic relationships.

But complaining is a grown up form of whining. Remember whining? If you’ve had kids or babysat someone else’s kids or volunteered or taught in a classroom, you’ve heard whining. It is sharp, piercing, annoying and it threatens to enter the very marrow of your bones, cracking them open and splintering them into tiny pieces. That’s what whining sounds like!

So why do we whine, as adults? What is the purpose of complaining? What does it accomplish? Nothing really. It gets a bunch of words off our chest, but it also slanders someone else, it cuts them down without them knowing what is being said. So when they show up for work, we might still feel angry, with fresh rage in our minds and they’ll walk up to us as if there isn’t a care in the world. Because according to them, there isn’t one! They know nothing of the complaints and they know nothing of the injury in the relationship.

I suppose the question to ask someone who is in the throws of complaining is not “Really? They did that?” But, “You know, you sound really distressed over this. What are you going to do about your distress?”

We can’t wait for other people to change in order for us to be happy. It doesn’t work that way. Our happiness is our responsibility. We can choose to be happy. I’m not condoning choosing to be happy in an abusive relationship. Nope. That is where confrontation and consequences come in. I’m talking about the long tirade of complaints that someone is unhappy about AND unwilling to do anything about. We don’t have to become that kind of person and we don’t have to tolerate listening to it. We can take time to be with someone who is upset but we don’t have to suffer the view of an open-mouth, food mashing dinner with them just in the name of trying to be polite. It would be more loving to say, “Hey listen, I’ve enjoyed our conversation, but I need to go now. I would highly suggest you take the rest of your thoughts directly to the person that you’ve been talking about. I’m sure you’ll get better results there than here. Goodnight.”

We can be kind people and ask other people to stop complaining. We can be respectful and choose to not engage in slandering other people behind their backs. We can love someone and choose not to speak with them for awhile. Loving someone does not mean that we have to endure their bad habits. We can ask them to close their mouth when they chew. We can suggest that they see a counselor about their issues. We can redirect their unhappiness agenda back to their own responsibilities. And we can do this for ourselves as well.

If we, who live with chronic pain or illness don’t find a way to unload our frustrations, we will explode or implode, or force others to watch our open mouths digest food while we talk. It’s gross. It’s messy and it is not really very effective or efficient. So, in light of being practical, I’ll leave you with a few suggestions:

♥️Let’s be people who take responsibility for our own lives, our own happiness, our own choices. We are strong enough to stand in the face of opposition and we can begin to create a beautiful life out in front of us! ♥️

Today, if you haven’t already, you might be starting to think about the New Year, make some resolutions or declare that that tradition is nonsense. Whatever you choose to do, let me encourage you a little.

Some of the things that you’ve had, or have been doing in your life, have been good and can stay the same in the next year. Some of the things you’ve held onto, it may be time to let them go. And some new things can be started! We are always starting or finishing or in the middle of something. And so if you feel a bit torn as to what your focus should be for the next year, you’re not alone. Today can be a strange day. And the idea of starting a new year may even freak you out a little, especially if you haven’t taken some time to reflect or pray or journal out your internal processing.

But here’s a little tip: You can do all that stuff next week! Or next month!

You’re probably tired, and full of pie and gingerbread candy. You may have had family with you or been working through the holidays. You may feel a little out of sorts. It is a weird two weeks of schedules and lifestyle changes, along with people and good and bad expectations. You may just be in a foggy place in your heart and mind.

So perhaps it’s better to take a nap, eat a salad, go for a walk or clean a bathroom. Maybe our bodies need to regroup and relax and stretch. Maybe after a busy December and new schedules starting in a few days, it would be better to slowly reflect and process things over the next month.

This tradition of making resolutions is VERY optional.

There are habits, like planning your schedule, mapping out the calendar, preparing for busy days that are good and healthy and will pay off later for sure! So do those!

But planning a whole year? Reflecting on the past year? Today may not be the day for that.

For me? I offer this with grace, to you, and to me, because I too am tired. It’s been a good and full few weeks of family being close and enjoying time together. My heart is full but my body is exhausted.

I’m tempted by the fresh thinking of a New Year. I love new calendars. I love new journal books and a fresh, black, fine tipped pen. But . . . I also know about myself that the reason NEW is exciting is because what is old and the same is my chronic pain life. It’s difficult and complex and exhausing and defeating. So if I can ramp up my excitement to thing about something new, then I’m all in!!! However, 27 years of chronic pain has provided the opportunity to understand my temptations, my desire to avoid reality. Reality is hard.

So, what will I do today? Today, along with some dishes, and tidying up the house and pain management, I will listen to what God wants to say . . . and I encourage you to join me in this.

Not in a Hurry - Will Reagan

Near the end of December, I like to reflect on the previous year. But after a whole year finishes, it can be difficult to remember significant moments and we may end up focusing on the most recent event because it is closest to date.

Provided is a printable sheet that I used for my reflection exercise this year and I thought I would share it with you. It starts with broad questions and then becomes more specific as you go through it hopefully jogging your memory and narrowing down your thoughts to what is most dear to your heart.

September started out focused on good treatments, seeking pain relief and solutions to some of the other problems that my body presented. However, I was averaging two appointments per week and it was exhausting.

So, I cancelled appointments for November and decided to rest from labs, waiting rooms and xrays.

But, kidney stones showed up. They’ve been appearing for awhile but they got into the habit and became more and more common. Not cool.

It’s a really strange thought to think that as a follower of God, the One whom I pray to, receive comfort from, wisdom and guidance . . . that He allows/chooses/permits or designs me to live with pain. He’s in charge, He’s got all the power to do anything, and here I am 29 years later still with chronic pain. I have prayed to be healed, I have sought all the treatments I possibly can, I’m engaged with regular counselling to keep my mind healthy, and experts in the field say that for some of the pain, it may never go away.

So here’s the question that comes into my mind, and maybe yours as you read . . . WHY would I encourage someone to follow God? What difference has He made in my life?

Growing up in the church, I believed that God made things better! He was the King Midas, turning ordinary things into gold. He was the kind grandfather in the sky who gave out treats. That’s who I thought God was. And maybe, that was an version in my own mind rather than what was taught . . . but regardless, it was wrong.

So this week, I read the story in John 9 about the man who was healed from his blindness and this time I paid attention to what the guy said when people asked him about his experience. He simply said “All I know….” and then explained that he was blind and now he can see! They didn’t like his explanation so they asked his parents. They didn’t stand up for him, they were afraid of getting in trouble, and redirected the questioners back to the man. He simply repeated the same story and challenged them why they were so interested.

You see when God heals us, when His power connects with our lives, with our struggles, it is miraculous, it is astonishing, it is beyond what our minds can comprehend! And we don’t have to have all the answers, we can simply say, “All I know . . . “ and tell the story.

So here’s mine:

All I know . . . is that my identity used to be built on what I could do. I thought it was my responsibility to help everyone and solve as many needs as I could because this world is so broken. What I didn’t realize is that God wanted to heal me of this and give me freedom to follow Him. Chronic pain has been part of my healing process. God has used this to show me my worth and I am worth alot to Him!!! So much so, that He cares about ME too!!! Self-care, self-compassion used to seem like bad words – selfish in fact. But as God surrounds me with His love, I am forced to crumble in on myself under his embrace and I’m left with this shell of a person who can’t do as much anymore. But God has gently shown me how much HE can do if I let him lead me and work through me in a way that is compassionate for my own needs as well. This is a big deal! This is a miracle. All I know . . . is that once I was enslaved to pleasing people, and now I’m free. And God continues to show me that I have nothing to fear about a broken body that has pain. He is enough for me!

🎵And here’s a favourite song I’ve been repeating over and over these days. Enjoy. 💕

When a piece of you has been hidden, locked away for many years, it almost seems as if it doesn’t exist. It is stuffed down, shut down and hidden within our carefully constructed, protected lives. We can live life, work, raise kids, laugh at jokes, run a marathon and start a business and this hidden part is not visible to anyone else. 

Or is it?

I stood in line at a coffee shop as I watched a woman demonstrate this very point.

She ordered a hot drink with layers of whipping cream on top. I observed her physical appearance. She was in good shape, toned biceps flexed as she balanced a bag over her forearm and held her phone in the other hand. Her hairstyle was carefully maintained and perfectly in place. The makeup style looked tense as if a stiff formulaic system (not joy) had helped her decide what shade for that time of day.

As the line formed behind me (waiting to order) and behind her (waiting to receive the drink), she began to get more agitated. The barista called her name and seeing her approach the counter, handed her the drink with a smile. She said ‘thank you’ and took the drink in her hand, the whip cream melted down the edge of the cup and onto her hand. She gasped and THREW the foamy, rich whipped cream hot drink down on the ground, splashing those around her and then demanded a new one.

I gasped. I couldn’t believe she did that, I couldn’t believe the staff scurried to clean up and I couldn’t believe the barista made her a new one!! I thought she needed to be banned from the coffee shop and made to apologize. But no, frowning people quietly brushed the drink splashes off their clothes, staff mopped the floor and the barista made another whip creamed drink for her. She stormed out this time, to the relief of all standing by.

So I guess, we learn what? That small drops of warm, sweet whipped cream are not to be tolerated? Nope. We learn that this woman is probably living in high tension about something. She responds to a small inconvenience with a HUGE reaction. She endangers others with her coffee throw down. She is rude and disrespectful to others. But what else might be happening? Who is she getting the coffee for? A boss? A boyfriend? Herself? What does mess or stickiness mean to her? What is her history of throwing things when she gets mad? Or where has she witnessed someone demonstrating this same behaviour?

Either we deal with our stuff or our stuff deals with us.

We carry our unprocessed trauma and pain around like a book bag that’s just too full. It bumps into things, bruises others and our shins as we lug it down and then back up onto our back. We can’t just leave it behind. It comes with us. We all have stuff and depending on the stage of life, we have small or large amounts of emotional and mental energy to look at the stuff and work through it. But no matter what stage of life we’re in, let’s be attentive to what we are carrying around, how it affects us and how it can splash those around us, creating a mess that we really did not intend on making.

If you need help finding a counselor in your area, or want some good book recommendations, let me know!

Tell me if any of this sounds familiar:

“How can I relax when there are people suffering everywhere?”

“But if I don’t help them, noone will!”

“I can’t just rest, there is too much to do.”

“It’s the right Christian thing - to think about others more than myself.”

“I help others to be a good example to my kids/students.”

IF these thoughts are yours, as they have been mine many times, then how do you rest?

How do you justify laying in a hammock for hours, reading a book, gently swaying . . .with dishes still in the sink, with hungry people needing food and homeless needing shelter. Can you? As a ‘good’ Christian person, can you rest and relax, be compassionate to yourself and bring your body and mind to a place of quiet stillness?

During one of my toughest seasons, I spent many hours in bed, on my left side, trying to wait patiently for a surgery. The pain was so bad that if I moved even slightly, it would increase exponentially! So I layed on my left side and it was awkward to read, write or even watch tv. So I looked at the trees. At the time, our room was on a second floor so I could just see the tips of the trees in my window. They swayed and swooshed back and forth with the wind. I watched for awhile in silence as the window was closed. I thought that I should probably pray but I didn’t have the energy for that, and the pain was so distracting. Then I realized that the trees were just swaying, rhythmically, gently, with a silent rhythm. So I decided to, in faith, let the trees pray for me. Each time they swayed to the left, I imagined praying something like, “God is faithful” and then as they swung over to the right side, bouncing before turning back, I’d pray, “Help me trust”. Then I’d repeat. No words actually were prayed from my mouth, the whole experience was in my head but, it transformed me. It was one of the most powerful prayer times I’ve had. I sensed the presence of God in my room, in the trees, in the burning feeling in my heart and the warm tears coming to my eyes.

“. . . I’m in the very presence of God ––oh, how refreshing it is! I’ve made Lord God my home. God I’m telling the world what you do!” Psalm 73 (The Message)

Our culture, families, churches, companies and advertising propose that a rest is only possible when you’ve made enough money, secured enough stuff, the right relationship, meaningful work and lifestyle privileges to be able to relax and enjoy. Then, go ahead and grab that hammock, read that book and hopefully it won’t rain on your achieved moment of rest.

Laying there, on my left side, in pain, all alone, letting my heart pray with the sway of the tree tops, I experienced rest! Deep rest! I had a smile on my face, my pain lessened a little, and I was able to emerge from our room later with a heart that was full. It had nothing to do with a clean counter, bills paid, healthy body or a secure future. It was Jesus, meeting me, on my left side, in the present moment, filling my heart with peace.

So, do you wonder if self-care is self-ish? Nope, it isn’t. Take some time, even now, and sit still in the presence of Jesus, pray whatever you can pray, however you want to and wait. This is the best hope I can offer you for real and lasting rest!!!

This coffee is just the right temperature this morning. Hot enough that it feels fresh, but cool enough that I can do more than a fearful, tight-lipped sip on the edge of the cup.

It’s an ordinary thing, this morning coffee ritual, but it signifies much more to me. Because pain is highest in the morning, the quicker I can get to the corner of the couch with my meds and coffee, plug in the massager behind my back, the quicker I can get relief while the meds kick in. I NEED this quiet time and comfy space in order to get through the hours until the meds have activated and then I can stand up and get on with my day.

So whether I like it or not, whether I want to or not, I sit quietly for an hour in the morning, committed to waiting for relief. And as I do, I spend time with Jesus . . . it has become sacred.

“But what if our interruptions are in fact our opportunities, if they are challenges to an inner response by which growth takes place and through which we come to the fullness of being?” Henri Nouwen

These interruptions, setbacks, challenges, delays, waiting times and losses are the sacred places where we can experience Jesus. But we resist, we distract ourselves, we keep busy. We cannot stand the thought of just sitting in our pain, in our loss and letting it sink in. We are afraid to cry or we’ll cry too much. We don’t want to examine our past for fear that we will get stuck there. Sadness? Too afraid of becoming too sad.

And yet, life is not in our control. Interruptions happen.

Interruptions are like leaves in a salad. The salad is not a salad without those leaves. (Okay, yes . . . greek salads, bean salads) But really, our plans, our schedules, our calendars are just our way of organizing priorities in our lives and scheduling them into a day. But that is all we can do . . . schedule. It doesn’t mean that is how things are going to go.

My life is not what I thought it would be. As we come around the year toward our 30th wedding anniversary, 29 of those years, I’ve been in pain, in and out of doctors’ offices, hospitals, labs, x-ray, mri, ultrasound, physiotherapy over and over again. That was not the life I pictured or wanted.

And yet, from the deepest part of my soul, I would do it all again for the privilege of knowing Jesus as I do now. He has not healed my physical pain, but he has healed my self-image, my self-compassion, my emotional wounds, my fears and insecurities, led me toward more opportunities to love people and use my skills and talents. God has freed me! I don’t need to please people, I don’t need to have a good first impression or clever things to say, or impress people with my clothes, car, skills, white teeth, toned body and firm handshake. I’ve learned to sit still with nothing in my hands: no media, music or entertainment. I’ve learned how to leave a party early, how to graciously say no, how to spend day/days in pain without being irritable, how to be alone, how to love others while I’m in pain and how to ask for help — which may be the most challenging of all. And this is all the transforming work of God!

David wrote this in the Psalms and I full-heartedly relate!

“But me he (God) caught—reached all the way from sky to sea; he pulled me out of that ocean of hate, that enemy chaos, the void in which I was drowning. They hit me when I was down, but God stuck by me.
He stood me up on a wide-open field; I stood there saved—surprised to be loved!” Psalm 18:19

And often, when I pray, I picture myself in Psalm 18, having been rescued from the things that held me captive (pride and more pride). I picture myself sopping wet, now standing, in an open field, safe, secure, and feeling loved. What a beautiful rescue.

What do you wish you could be rescued from? What holds you captive, keeps you afraid, keeps you checking your lists, or ruminating over past conversations . . . Know that you’re not alone. The more we can admit our sins, confess them to God and to each other and ask for God’s freedom in that area, the more we begin to see the surface of the water that we’ve been drowning in. We begin to long for that dry, open space . . . so we become fiercely resistant to anything that seeks to capture and pull us down again.

Praying today, that you will find a quiet space and place and sit with Jesus. Just sit, listen, look around you, listen, see what God brings to your mind. Ask Him to renew your heart and mind and give you freedom!

I have a feeling that many people may be feeling thoughtful about tomorrow, pensive and reflective. Others may be done with that and just want to get on with activities, face to face gatherings, celebrations and travel. There is a tension in the air as to how Canada Day should be celebrated, whom should be emphasized and how we honour those who mourn and celebrate with those who celebrate. So many unknowns and changes that come quickly and unexpectedly. It’s hard to feel like we properly experience and process all the change before something new comes.

So tonight, if you’re in the mood for reflection, here are a few questions to help you think through the past year and a half:

1. How have YOU changed?

2. What matters more (or less) to you?

3. What new habits did you have to do that now you want to keep doing?

4. What other habits did you acquire that you’d like to toss out with the trash?

5. What did you discover about yourself that you like? that you’re proud of?

6. What new skill have you acquired or learned?

7. Is there something that you will miss about how isolated and restricted it has been?

8. What are you afraid of about tomorrow?

9. What are you relying on to hold you steady as life changes so quickly and unexpectedly?

10. What are you thankful for as you step into new un-restricted lifestyle tomorrow?

As we prepare to go to sleep tonight, anticipating a fresh return to the freedoms we had before but may have never truly appreciated, I offer you this prayer that has become precious to me this past year. It is set as a reminder on my phone and so it ‘bings’ in the morning and at night to remind me to read it. And it has become a daily letting go exercise. I encourage you to consider this as one of your spiritual formation exercises!

”I welcome everything that comes to me today because I know it’s for my healing. I welcome all thoughts, feelings, emotions, persons, situations, and conditions. I let go of my desire for power and control. I let go of my desire for affection, esteem, approval and pleasure. I let go of my desire for survival and security. I let go of my desire to change any situation, condition, person or myself. I open myself to the love and presence of God and God’s action within. Amen” (Mary Morzowski)

The deep dive into pain treatment, as I wrote about in my blog on March 22, has been intense and good and helpful and frustrating all at once. My hope was to learn more about the sources of my chronic pain. In the process, we discovered a rather large kidney stone which stayed stuck in the ureter right at the edge of the kidney. This increased my pain and caused me to pause some of my treatments in order to monitor this new discovery with pain meds and doctor appointments. We also discovered on an x-ray, that my spine is narrowing between the vertebrae and possibly pinching nerves (upcoming MRI will reveal more). So that led to more pain treatments and more waiting for appointments with specialists. And … there’s that word again, waiting.

Waiting demands that nothing else can really be engaged in or entered into while in the process. If you’re waiting for a phone call, your day will be focused on being available, having your phone fully charged, maybe putting off a shower or running an errand so that you can be fully ready for that phone call. Waiting can be an all-encompassing task.

This past week, I wrote another list of all the things, appointments, test results, surgery date etc. that I am waiting for. Once we know more, we will be better able to choose a treatment plan.

However, I don’t want to focus on waiting. I don’t want my life to be defined by waiting. We wait for the world to be immune to covid, wait for restrictions to lift, wait for a sense of normal life to be restored. Waiting will always be part of my/our lives, there could always be something that we are waiting for. So how then, shall we live? Is it about choosing to not know more? knowing less? ignoring facts? quitting the pursuit to make things better? If waiting is part of our lives, then how do we live?

Maybe this ten step plan to gardening will give us some ideas:

1. Choose location for garden

2. Select what you want to grow

3. Prepare the soil

4. Prepare schedule for planting

5. Plant the seeds

6. Add water

7. Keep weeds/critters out

8. Give your plants room to grow

9. Fertilize as needed

10. Reap what you sow. Harvest!

So . . . what if we wrote a ten step plan to nurture LIFE in us?

Or perhaps it is worth thinking about those things we are doing or not doing right now that become so heavy, so weighted down, that we ignore the nurture of life and we start to see decay.

One of my recent challenges is to find new ways to nurture life in my current state of pain management.

Although I have a well established routine of self-care, food, meds, reading, listening, watching movies, journal writing, reading a Psalm a day, sketching the main points, movement and rest throughout my day, there are many hours where I am just laying down because my body needs the heating pad or to sit with a massage device on my back for pain relief. Meds make me drowsy so I will close my eyes and relax. However, as you may well understand for yourself or imagine, boredom can creep in very quickly. The day can become long and if pain keeps me up at night, then there are hours there too where I wish I had more to do. And this is where it is most tempting to focus on waiting, the what if’s and the thens.

This list of gardening tips has become my meditation project. I want to explore where life has been neglected, where it is dry, overcome by weeds, perhaps needing fertilization, or spacing, or experts brought in.

So as the very first start of this project, I’m asking for input!

Do you have any advice or suggestions for me, that I could do to increase life-nurturing things into my day while I wait for more testing and treatments? Feel free to write me back privately, or leave a comment. I’d love to hear from you and the things you’ve learned along the way.

I want to nurture LIFE - while waiting.

I’ve started a deep dive into possible treatments for my pain.

A big breath and . . . down I go, deep into the world of pain clinics, physio, acupuncture, surgery and whatever I can get into. I’m hungry, both for popcorn (because it is usually this time of night that one of us makes some) and for pain relief. I called the pharmacist today for another opinion on increasing my pain meds and his answer was “No, you can’t take more than you are”.

Hunger demands satisfaction. Hunger hopes and hunger shouts “Hurry!”

Hunger is also desire. In The Journey of Desire by John Eldredge, I read this today:

To live with desire is to choose vulnerability over self-protection, to admit our desire and seek help beyond ourselves is even more vulnerable. It is an act of trust.

I don’t like this vulnerability, if I’m honest.

Physically, it means that I splay my body out on various examining tables, having my abdomen pushed and prodded, asked the same questions over and over. It takes energy to retell the history of my health and not take it personal when someone questions it or brushes over it lightly. It means undressing over and over. It means showing up in clinics, waiting with others and asking for help with driving because my meds make me dizzy. It requires vulnerability and honesty and . . . energy.

But hunger is also about hope. I may not be able to eliminate pain completely, but I hope I can find a way to bring it down a few degrees, I hope I am listened to, I hope I can improve my care. And then . . . here is where I stop.

The truth is, things may get worse. 😊(insert peaceful face here to remind readers that this paragraph is going somewhere good.) I feel the hunger and I feel the hurry but I’m afraid to hope. I told my acupuncturist this past week that I was coming with half-hope. She laughed, thankfully, What I meant was that I can’t put all my hope in one treatment, or one person, or one method or one future. I can’t. Because none of it is a sure thing.

So what can I do with my hunger, the demand to hurry and find hope?

For me, it is Jesus. Jesus is full-hope! Jesus thinks I’m worthy of love and dignity. Jesus fills up my soul with joy and peace despite what my body is doing. Jesus listens, loves, counsels, comforts, encourages and stays. When all that I want, or hunger for, and have to wait a long time for continues, when my hunger aches in my body and my mind and soul, Jesus reminds me that He is with me. I am never alone. And that, very simply, is hope! (I never knew this to be true until chronic pain entered my life). For this reason, I half-hope all the other treatments and save my full-hope for the One who will forever be with me through this life and into eternity, the One who gives me purpose and joy even now - as I write - in pain.

So as you face your week and feel your own hunger, whatever it might be, consider how you might put your full-hope in Jesus. 💕

Wishing you joy and a deep, deep peace.

In our upcoming book, “The Art of Pain Management”, we invite you to enter into the world of tension, take off your shoes and sit down. We offer you as much comfort as we can including an introduction, a table of contents, lots of white space, limited and carefully chosen words, clear titles, page numbers, beautiful paintings and sketches by my husband, clearly defined sections, and encouraging tips for making living with pain more manageable. But we don’t offer to take away your pain. We can’t! Nor do we try to offer magic-bullet solutions, quick fixes or formulas with success stories. Instead, we sit with you, in the tension of your suffering. We listen, we relate, we offer examples and stories, and hopefully, we honour you in your pain, knowing that it is holy ground - this place of your suffering.

You may hear many people saying these days that we have “a right” to certain things, certain comforts, certain freedoms. I’m all in favour of equal treatment of all humanity! And especially defending and protecting those who have been oppressed and treated as ‘less than’. I’m in . . . 100%. However, if we’re talking about a desire for freedom, I’m wondering if true freedom doesn’t always come from demanding our rights.

This past week, I watched an interview regarding a new feature film called, “The Mauritanian,” that tells the story of Mohamedou Ould Slahi. He was a Mauritanian man imprisoned, without reason, and tortured for 14 years at the U.S. military prison at Guantánamo. His story is remarkable and as he describes, it is about more than just himself, it is intended to tell many people’s stories. However, the part that was most profound to me was when he described what freedom was for him. It wasn’t until he chose to forgive his torturers, choosing to want a fulfilling life for them and their families, that he experienced true freedom, in his soul.

He had the right to demand to be free from prison. He had the right to be treated with kindness. He had the right to be repaid for all his suffering and even to make his torturers pay for what they did . . . however, demanding his rights, did not bring about freedom. He found freedom as he forgave. That’s it. That is how it arrived for him.

What could this mean for you and I?

I’ve been waiting for surgery for a long time now. I’m in the waiting line, behind many and in front of many who may feel they deserve to be closer to the front of the line than I am. And depending on the level of pain I’m experiencing, I’m tempted to pick up the phone and demand my right to push past all of them and get right up to the front! Our pain, our suffering, our anxiety, our impatience, our uncomfortableness and our desire to get out of the tension of our circumstances can cause us to want to demand our own way. And as we demand, we feel justified because all we really want is to relieve our suffering.

Here’s what the Apostle Paul wrote to the church (from prison):

“If you’ve gotten anything at all out of following Christ, if his love has made any difference in your life, if being in a community of the Spirit means anything to you, if you have a heart, if you care—then do me a favor: Agree with each other, love each other, be deep-spirited friends. Don’t push your way to the front; don’t sweet-talk your way to the top. Put yourself aside, and help others get ahead. Don’t be obsessed with getting your own advantage. Forget yourselves long enough to lend a helping hand. Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion.” Philippians 2 (Message)

If you’re suffering, whether in physical pain because of an illness, or emotional pain, or spiritual, or mental pain, relational pain, or financial pain . . . you desire for your suffering to stop. I get it! Absolutely. (I was up twice during the night last night, walking back and forth, trying to ease my own abdominal and back pain). I believe in relieving pain, finding comfort, improving all areas of life for more comfort and ease. Yes, absolutely!

However, when I see, in Jesus, a spirit of serving others, humility, taking on the status of a slave, being a limited human when he had all the rights and power of an almighty God, I must ask myself whether I’m demanding more than Jesus did.

Does this world need us, as followers of Jesus, to be all about demanding our rights? Or, does this world of which we are neighbours within, need us to be about love, forgiveness, serving the needs of others and being “Jesus” to those who do not know Him. We have freedom. If we’ve said yes to the forgiveness of Jesus in our souls, then we ARE free! We must let that freedom seep into all of our lives, including our attitudes, our demands and tendency to want to push to the front of the line.

“Lord, as we anticipate Easter, in our suffering, comfort us. Heal us, we ask. But if that is not the plan, for whatever reasons beyond our understanding, then comfort our pain, ease our anxiety, calm our impatience. You, Lord, washed your disciples feet, you touched lepers, you sat with the oppressed, you comforted those who were lonely and misunderstood and you yourself were misunderstood, called names, and then ultimately killed and discarded for who you were. But in this we have hope, You came to life again. You beat death. You stood up, shook off the wrappings of death, dusted yourself off and walked out of that grave. You give this new life to us, you give us this comfort and freedom in our spirits. You conquered the deepest, darkest moments of despair and you now offer us this hope. Thank you. Replace our demands with gratefulness and help us find a way to find peace within the specific tensions we feel, because of the freedom You offer. amen.”

As I was reading about health the other day, the article emphasized removing stress from our lives. I thought, of course, that is a no-brainer!

But then I wondered, besides the obvious areas where we notice stress, what about the small, tiny, hidden, invisible, under-the-radar areas of stress that we don’t even pay attention to. What lies hidden there, waiting to spring on us when we least expect it? What tiny, microscopic triggers jolt our blood pressure up or make our hearts pound or send cortisol pumping toward a flight or fight response?

Well, now that our stomachs are in knots and shoulders are tense just thinking about this, let’s take a deep breath . . . in and ouuuuuut. Whooo. There, that’s better.

But, if it interests you to find hidden areas of stress in your lives, I’ve attached a stress checklist. It is designed to help you think through your day in tiny increments to look for unexpected places and times of stress to hopefully help you identify and find solutions.

When our sons were around 9 and 10 years old, their lives seemed to increase in creativity. They’d come home from school and have projects and ideas they wanted to make, or homework assignments, or improvements they wanted to make for their rooms. One time, our 10 year old want to cut a piece of plywood in the garage on the table saw. Being a responsible mom, I’d suggest they wait until their dad got home as I lacked experience in this area. It would be a few hours of waiting. However, our son was very motivated, and I wanted to be a cool mom that tries things. So, I turned it on, and tried running a large piece of wood through the table saw. As I pushed the plywood the wrong way across the blade, it grabbed the wood and flung it high speed (although it was a slow-motion horror film for me) away from us, across the garage and INTO the opposite wall. I looked at my son, turned the saw off, grabbed him by the shoulders which were thankfully still attached to his head, and we walked into the house, never to try this again.

The reason for this story is that I began to feel stress in my stomach around 2pm knowing they would be home in about an hour and I wondered what questions they’d have, what projects they’d want to make, which friends they’d be asking to bring home with them, what I’d make for supper etc. I loved being a mom, don’t get me wrong here. But having chronic pain with unexpected symptoms also meant that sometimes it was extra hard to do extra things even though I wanted to be as involved as I could with our kids. I wanted them to be creative. I wanted to assist however I could. I wanted to enjoy this energetic, social, creative stage of life with them!

So as I noticed stress, the stomach knot being my best indicator, I countered it with a new routine. Every day at 2pm, I’d stop what I was doing and make myself a cup of coffee and a piece of toast or something, and go sit in the sunshine. I’d relax and enjoy a break. It was awesome. I took pain meds if I needed them, assessed my energy, decided what I’d be willing to do for the next part of the day, then I’d get in the car and go pick up the kids ready for whatever adventures the evening held.

Our bodies communicate pretty clearly if we pay attention to them. They are designed to help us know how to take care of ourselves. So, if you’re up for it, try this stress checklist. You can print it and without thinking too hard, check the areas that currently give you stress (little or lots). Then once you’re done, consider what you can do to counter the stress with an opposite strategy. If you feel stuck, ask someone you trust to look at the list with you. They may have some great ideas that could assist you.

I wish you a less-stress day. And stay away from table saws, unless you have the skills.  😊

Maybe you’ve been here. You’ve cleaned your car, organized your kitchen, paid bills, got a haircut, groomed the dog, cleaned the rugs, had those big trucks come and blow out the old air and freshen up the vents in your home. You’ve created the ULTIMATE checklist, downloaded some new apps for your phone and created a whiteboard on your kitchen wall that is not only an efficient list of chores and schedules but also a work of art. Everything is in place and you’re standing back looking around, and it feels good, it feels really good.

Chaos, as you know, can come from anywhere. No matter how well we brush our teeth, one of them can crack. No matter how well we organize our schedule, we can forget a meeting or leave our kid waiting at the bus stop longer than we meant to. No matter how much we try to minimize stress, those phone calls happen and someone (like me) writes a blog and as we read, we begin to feel more anxious than before.

So, what then, Heather? What are you getting at?

When I was first diagnosed with Endometriosis back in 1994 and recovering from a surgery, a kind, godly and wise woman from our church came to visit me. She brought a book called “31 Days of Praise” by Ruth Myers. Inside each page, for each day of the month there was a prayer written. Each line of the prayer had a footnote that related it back to verses from the Bible.

Although I was grateful for the gift, and the sweet message written inside the front cover, I was skeptical. It seemed formulaic, and too idealistic to impact the raw, chaotic reality of my physical pain and the losses I was experiencing in this huge upending of my life as I knew it. However, I was desperate, so I read it.

Our brains seem to default toward unhealthy, protective, fearful habits unless we tell them otherwise. It seems left to our own tendencies, health doesn’t come naturally.

This little book I was given, was exactly about reforming habits! It was basically cognitive behavioural therapy in a prayer book! By forcing myself to read a prayer every day that focused on the truth of who God is, how He works and how He feels about me, my mind and heart began to change. As we focus on God, He changes us!

Perhaps it’s best just to show you.

I’ll finish by writing out my favourite day of the book, day 18. And consider, as you read this, the long-range change in our hearts that is possible as we focus our minds in this kind of way:

Father God, I'm so delighted that You are both loving and sovereign, and that You cause all things to work together for good to those who love You, to those who are called according to Your purpose. So I thank You for each disturbing or humbling situation in my life, for each breaking or cleansing process You are allowing, for each problem or hindrance, for each thing that triggers in me anxiety or anger or pain. And I thank You in advance for each disappointment, each demanding duty, each pressure, each interruption that may arise in the coming hours and days. In spite of what I think or feel when I get my eyes off You, I choose not to resist my trials as intruders, but to welcome them as friends. Thank You that each difficulty is an opportunity to see You work that in your time You will bring me out to a place of abundance. I rejoice that You plan to enrich and beautify me through each problem, each conflict, each struggle. That through them You expose my weaknesses and needs, my hidden sins, my self-centeredness (and especially my self-reliance and pride). Thank You that You use trials to humble me and perfect my faith and produce in me the quality of endurance, that they prepare the soil of my heart for the fresh new growth of godliness that You and I both long to see in me and that my momentary troubles are producing for me an eternal glory that far outweighs them all, as I keep my eyes focused on You. I'm grateful that You look beyond my superficial desire for a trouble-free life; instead, You fulfill my deep-down desire to glorify You, enjoy your warm fellowship, and become more like Your Son.”

31 Days of Praise, Ruth Myers (P. 82-83)

Our son just got married. He and his beautiful wife moved to BC and we helped drive a van load of belongings to their new place. We unpacked, said our goodbyes and headed home. Great trip, five days, hearts full, and now home.

Around me are piles of things. Some are leftovers from our son’s move, some are dishes left on the counter before leaving, laundry baskets that were rifled through in order to pack and the pre-wedding week prep that reveals an ironing board, gift wrap, packing tape, receipts, odds and ends and a Christmas tree.

I’m so grateful I was able to attend the wedding AND accompany my husband on the ‘belongings’ transport to BC. My health issues don’t usually cooperate with travel but this trip went really well and aside from one migraine and one bad batch of abdominal pain, I was good!

However, it only took about an hour after arriving at home for the piles of stuff and the mental to-do lists to start adding up. The theme of January and fresh starts and productivity hit me like a hammer. I mentioned this to my husband as we passed through the kitchen and asked him to talk some sense into me. “Give me a pep talk!” I asked. He reminded me that I probably need to recover from the trip more than I need to get working. He reminded me to be gracious to myself and take it slow.

So I made coffee, grabbed my journal and Bible, lit a candle, plugged in my heating pad, grabbed a blanket and curled up into the corner of the couch. I read these words about the heart of God in Isaiah 30.

“Your salvation requires you to turn back to me and stop your silly efforts to save yourselves. Your strength will come from settling down in complete dependence on me—”

Settling down . . . in complete dependence.

I know this passage is about another story, but those words . . .

I put down my journal and thought for a moment. I looked around the living room, and the piles of stuff. What if I settled down, in complete dependence, regarding all elements of my life, including transitioning out of a busy season into a new one. What would that look like? And what about the mess that is going on in the rest of the world, in my city and all over the news? Everywhere I look, I see that mess too.

I suppose it will look different for each one of us, but here are a few ideas that I’m thinking about . . .

If I lived in a settled down way, in complete dependence on God . . . my pace would be slower than I naturally would want it to be. It would include thoughtfulness about each task and perhaps each item that gets put back into place. It would include gratefulness for why the house became that way and I would enjoy the memories of the busy season we just came through. I would take breaks to rest and be okay with mess around me, including all the messes of the world that are out of my control. Each task would not be greater than the relational aspects of our home and perfection would not be the goal. Even though I would naturally want to start the new year with things in place and a routine that works and a carefully designed calendar and schedule, I would understand that this moment, right now, in the midst of mess is a holy one where I am in the presence of God.

I think, if I imagine what it would be like to be a daughter in God’s house, that’s what I would do, I think that’s what His kids would do. Everything else gets figured out after that.

Happy New Year friends.😊

When our kids were little, we borrowed the idea of a “quiet time” from their Hayashi cousins. Since naps were now a thing of the past, it was possible for our kids to function without breaks all day. But like any other human, there are waves of energy and engagement that kids have (and parents) and we tend to have more successful days when we honour that.

At first, our sons did not like quiet time. They protested and bargained, promising to play quietly or just to watch a movie. But the rule was that they had to stay in their separate rooms, by themselves and it had to be quiet - ish.

I’d often do dishes while they were restlessly pacing their rooms trying to figure out how to spend the time, then when it got quiet, I’d take a nap or catch up on reading.

One of my favourite things about quiet time, was that when it was over, I’d quietly walk toward their rooms and peek in to let them know they could come out. What I’d discover each time was remarkable.

Cardboard boxes had been transformed into parking garages for their cars.

Or one would be asleep on the floor with a marker still in his hand and the other son would be in his closet (now a rocket) with a bucket helmet on pushing coloured buttons on a paper dashboard in front of him. Inventions were created, toys went on adventures, fans propelled paper airplanes across the room, magic tricks were practiced, stories written, imaginations soared and their little hearts, minds and bodies were settled down, restful, creative and content.

Because of Covid, many of us have to stay in our houses. We pace, trying to figure out what we can do. We feel restless thinking about all our favourite things that are not here and we want out.

But what if, we allow this quiet time to free our creativity and help us to settle in and appreciate what we have around us. What if we can make something out of what we have. What if, after feeling restless for a little while, we can find purposeful work, playful things, satisfying projects or maybe fall asleep with a book in our hand. After all, maybe we are weary and long for some quiet time.

I pray for you today, that you’ll take a deep life-giving breath and exhale as you accept your present circumstances. I pray you’ll see what you CAN do. That your imagination will come alive, you’ll turn your attention toward God and what He may have in mind for you as you hold your agenda loosely. I pray that as you pace your room a little, and allow the restlessness to settle down, that your heart and mind will come alive with a playful sense of adventure and that you’ll enter into something that engages and interests you. Maybe you’ll lose track of time and maybe when it’s time to come out and have more options, you might just choose to stay a little longer.

“Don’t fret or worry. Instead of worrying, pray. Let petitions and praises shape your worries into prayers, letting God know your concerns. Before you know it, a sense of God’s wholeness, everything coming together for good, will come and settle you down. It’s wonderful what happens when Christ displaces worry at the center of your life.”

Philippians 4:7, The Message

There are two things that happen when there’s a change in the weather. We feel it. We deal with it.

If it’s cold, we grab a sweater; if it’s raining, an umbrella. The same thing applies when something changes in our lives. We feel it. We deal with it.

However, I’m going to suggest that there is a third one that shows up in the middle when it is about feelings and circumstances in our lives. Denial.

If you have grown up in a family where only happy feelings were welcome, then you understand what I am talking about. Perhaps you had a question or struggle that you wished to share with your spouse, or parents or with a sibling, but you knew that by sharing it you would be dismissed or worse yet, rejected. You learned very quickly to ignore what you feel, deny it and deal with it in a way that made your consequence less painful.

If this has been a pattern in your life, then it most likely will show up in your current relationships, your workplace, your health, your priorities, your decision making and even your prayers.

This past week, my husband and I travelled to a city three hours away for a consultation with a specialist for my health. During the appointment, the doctor asked me a few questions about the past few years of symptoms. Even though I had brought with me a full size, colour coded chart of my symptoms, one of the questions stumped me. He asked me if my pain was worse before I went on certain medication or after. I didn’t know. I couldn’t remember. I looked at my chart which was full of details but my memory felt blank.

I looked at my husband and he answered for me. He remembered and reminded me that yes, I was more active and with less pain about three years ago. On the car ride home, I told my husband about some other odd symptoms that had happened over the years. He asked me kindly, “Why didn’t you mention those?” and I answered, “I guess, when so many things are wrong, so much of the time, I just don’t react to everything”.

There is a numbing that happens to us when we belittle or dismiss pain and symptoms. I’m not condoning pulling the fire alarm with every small thing that we experience. When it begins to sprinkle rain, we can probably still go do groceries without getting fully suited up in rain gear. But there is something to be said for being aware of the weather, our feelings and the circumstances around us.

If you are a follower of Jesus, you may, as I have, added numbing or denial to your prayers. Instead of feeling my feelings, and dealing with them in prayer, I add denial, make them sound nice, kind and pleasant. My prayers sound like something you might read in a cute, pastel coloured children’s storybook.

We are, however, invited to do this instead . . .

“Now that we know what we have—Jesus, this great High Priest with ready access to God—let’s not let it slip through our fingers. We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all—all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help.” Hebrew 4:14-16 - The Message

So, as the weather changes both in our calendar and in our circumstances, as the pandemic continues, as political debates continue and as bullies continue to get their way, lets borrow a prayer from the Psalms, written by David, the Shepherd (then King) who’s reputation was that he was a man ‘after God’s own heart’. If David can pray that God would punch a bully in the nose, then so can we! Lets give it all we’ve got. No denial. Feel it. Deal with it - in prayer.

Psalm 35

“Harass these hecklers, God, punch these bullies in the nose. Grab a weapon, anything at hand; stand up for me! Get ready to throw the spear, aim the javelin, at the people who are out to get me. Reassure me; let me hear you say, “I’ll save you.”

When those thugs try to knife me in the back, make them look foolish.
Frustrate all those who are plotting my downfall.
Make them like cinders in a high wind,
with God’s angel working the bellows.
Make their road lightless and mud-slick,
with God’s angel on their tails.
Out of sheer cussedness they set a trap to catch me; for no good reason they dug a ditch to stop me.
Surprise them with your ambush—
catch them in the very trap they set,
the disaster they planned for me.

But let me run loose and free,
celebrating God’s great work,
Every bone in my body laughing, singing, “God, there’s no one like you.
You put the down-and-out on their feet
and protect the unprotected from bullies!”

Hostile accusers appear out of nowhere, they stand up and badger me.
They pay me back misery for mercy,
leaving my soul empty.

When they were sick, I dressed in black; instead of eating, I prayed.
My prayers were like lead in my gut,
like I’d lost my best friend, my brother.
I paced, distraught as a motherless child, hunched and heavyhearted.

But when I was down they threw a party! All the nameless riffraff of the town came chanting insults about me.
Like barbarians desecrating a shrine,
they destroyed my reputation.

God, how long are you going to stand there doing nothing?
Save me from their brutalities;
everything I’ve got is being thrown to the lions. I will give you full credit
when everyone gathers for worship;
When the people turn out in force
I will say my Hallelujahs.

Don’t let these liars, my enemies,
 have a party at my expense,
Those who hate me for no reason,
 winking and rolling their eyes.
No good is going to come
 from that crowd;
They spend all their time cooking up gossip against those who mind their own business. They open their mouths
in ugly grins, mocking, “Ha-ha, ha-ha, thought you’d get away with it?
 We’ve caught you hands down!”

Don’t you see what they’re doing, God?
You’re not going to let them get by with it, are you? Not going to walk off
without doing something, are you?

Please get up—wake up! Tend to my case. My God, my Lord—my life is on the line. Do what you think is right, God, my God, but don’t make me pay for their good time. Don’t let them say to themselves, “Ha-ha, we got what we wanted.” Don’t let them say, “We’ve chewed him up and spit him out.”
Let those who are being hilarious
at my expense be made to look ridiculous. Make them wear donkey’s ears; Pin them with the donkey’s tail,
who made themselves so high and mighty!

But those who want the best for me,
Let them have the last word—a glad shout!—and say, over and over and over,
“God is great—everything works together for good for his servant.”
I’ll tell the world how great and good you are, I’ll shout Hallelujah all day, every day.”

We all live with some kind of pain (emotional, physical, financial, relational etc) in our lives. But there can be a difference between pain and unnecessary suffering. Learn how to do inventory of your current suffering to see what can be thrown away!

About 20 years ago, (Wow . . . I’m getting old), I was in a bridal party for one of our friends. The wedding rehearsal was late afternoon and my husband was at work so I brought our sons with me. They were 5 and 6 years old and willing to come along for the ride.

However, aside from the fact that my phone was only a phone, and in my DNA I was already bad with directions, the church was in a part of our city that had multiple one way streets and bridges across the river. If you missed a turn, you’d head across the river and onto a one-way street. If you didn’t get the right road back then you’d head back across the river onto the other side. And so ya, I went back and forth across the river at least three times. I was trying to be cool about it but my kids were clearly getting frustrated for and with me as they watched me squirm.

Finally, I stopped. I pulled into a gas station and explained my predicament to the cashier. He helped me understand where I was, what I was doing wrong and how to get to my destination. We got to the rehearsal just slightly late and the kids had a good laugh later as they told their Dad about how stressed Mom was.

Unknowns, uncertainty, foggy weather and a foggy future is like being lost. New stages of life with no worn path to follow, no step by step plan, just new flat ground to step on with no idea what comes next.

In her book, “An Altar in the World”, Barbara Brown Taylor writes about embracing lostness instead of fighting it and using it as a spiritual practice. She describes how many wandering, wilderness experiences there are in Scripture and how it always led to significant, life-altering changes. And she describes people in the world who are now living in extreme lostness as they are removed from their homes, or surviving in the middle of a war, or trying to escape one country only to be rejected or detained by another. They understand lostness in severe ways that many of us don’t. But our lostness still feels severe to us:

“Even if the odds were against you, there is something holy in this moment of knowing just how perishable you are. It is part of the truth about what it means to be human, however hard most of us work not to know that. “

An Altar in the World, Barbara Brown Taylor

So, yeah, okay Heather, this all sounds good, but how? How does one find holiness in the lostness? How do we stop panicking and frantically seeking answers and direction? Isn’t being lost supposed to trigger a figure-it-out response?

Yes, we can’t avoid lostness. We will always run into new path-less territory. So instead of trying to avoid or deny or feel ashamed that it happens, we can do this:

1. Pull over.

   We just need to pull the car over, put it in park and turn it off. We need to sit there and admit we are lost. We have to be willing to ‘waste time’ in order to get our bearings. This might mean taking an hour or an afternoon to sit quietly with a journal and do some writing, empty our brains and see what is in there. Take inventory, stop trying to cover up the anxious feeling with activity. Look at it. Call it by name.

2. Ask for help.

   Admitting we are lost also means that we need to rely on someone else’s help. It might mean spending money to see a counsellor or asking a good friend to help us process things. We may need to read a book, sit with a mentor who has gone before us and ask for directions. It is humbling, but so, so good.

3. Accept it.

   Although I didn’t love hearing my kids later describe to my husband how funny it was to see me so stressed out, it was also an opportunity to model lostness as part of life. It really is nothing to be ashamed of. If we treat it as a normal life-thing, then we don’t have to be traumatized each time we feel uncertain, uneasy or unsure. “Ah, yes”, we’ll say, “this unfamiliar territory feels familiar”. We begin to accept lostness as common and as a clue that we are still alive, still human and still not in control. This is that holy place where things begin to change!

If you are in a place of lostness, and feel like you could use some support, feel free to contact me. One of the things I do offer is spiritual direction, which is similar to a life-coach but for your faith life. I listen to you, ask you questions, help you see and define where you are in life. Most importantly, I encourage you to learn to listen for God’s guidance as you ‘pull over’ and slow down. You may not be as lost as you think. And if you are, it may not be for much longer. Spiritual direction is like someone coming to sit with you once you’ve pulled over.

(If this interests you, here’s more information.).

Take care friends, I pray that you will sense God’s deep desire to love you wherever you are in life right now.

I leave you with this cool glass of water, (or coffee) whatever seems most comforting. :) Psalm 71

Migraine - Day 5. The surgery for Endometriosis that I’m waiting for could be another 5-6 months away.

Weary.

And yet . . . this is where Jesus is. Thank God . . . literally. :)

Being a follower of Jesus doesn’t mean the absence of suffering, in fact it may mean even more suffering. And I don’t mean migraines. I mean those things that God asks you to do in order to be obedient to Him. What are those things? Has He asked you to let go of something, release control, surrender your worries, let go of solving uncertainty?

When Jesus walked this earth, he was our up-close view of God.

He touched lepers, contagious lepers. He loved the culturally despised. He valued women when culture didn’t. He confronted the religious who were only concerned with how they ‘appeared’ to others. He challenged the rich to put their money where their mouth was and give their money away. He called adultery the same thing as a quick lusty glance at another person. He held up the black and white checklist of religious rules and challenged them with what lies underneath - in the invisible matters of the heart.

Jesus pursued people who felt unworthy.

Do you know what it means to be lovingly pursued and wanted by someone?

When a short man named Zacchaeus climbed into a tree in order to hear Jesus preach, Jesus suggested he climb down and they go hang out at Zac’s house. Imagine how that would have felt.

Jesus cared nothing for status, wealth, arrogance, entitled-ness. He paid attention to those who simply believed, who simply had faith. Education, status, religious robes, didn’t impress Jesus. Perfect church attendance, Bible knowledge, degrees, outward appearance and reputations meant nothing to Jesus when he inquired about the heart.

How is your heart?

Weary? Joyful? Fearful? Ashamed?

Jesus loves you. He loves me.

As I sit in a darkened house, blinds closed, ice pack on my head, feeling like I am contributing not much to this world, to friends and family or the greater needs of the world, I understand strength. Strength that God gives. It is life-giving, puts a smile on my migraine face. :)

As you face your own challenges today, call out to Jesus. He is there for you. He is pursuing your heart and He wants all of it. He wants you to choose Him over all other things, that your thoughts would be on Him, and no one else. He wants your heart - your whole heart!

Message me if you wanna talk about this more. I’d love to correspond with you .

My friend asked a really great question yesterday.

She was pondering how to focus more on Easter in the midst of the Covid crisis and the suffering of a close friend and family in the hospital. Perhaps that is exactly it. Perhaps Easter is about all those things.

Friday: longing, suffering, loss, loneliness, abandoned hope, darkness and pain.

Saturday: quietness, burying, death, confusion, fear, abandonment.

Sunday: surprise, amazement, worship, gathering, celebration, hope, future, courage, joy!

If we feel any or all of those feelings this Easter, then we ARE ready for Easter weekend! Perhaps we will be able to experience the new life that Christ brought to us, to this world, in a new way. Let’s permit ourselves to feel what we feel, and watch and listen for God’s voice in the midst of it all.

Let’s experience this unique Easter season of 2020 with an open heart to what God may want to reveal to us about Himself, about ourselves and about this world. This weekend could be the most meaningful Easter we’ve ever experienced because in the absence of routine, and the unsettledness of our hearts, we may truly understand and experience anew the meaning of new life in Jesus Christ!

Isaiah 53

“Once again I’ll go over what God has done, lay out on the table the ancient wonders. I’ll ponder all the things You’ve accomplished and give a long, loving look at Your acts.” Psalm 77:11-12 (The Message)

If you want to read what anxiety sounds like, read the first ten verses of that Psalm. The Psalmist is not sleeping, he’s stressing, he’s pacing, he’s questioning everything . . . sound familiar?

Once again . . . is a mantra that coaches repeat to athletes, piano teaches to students, professors to medical students. It’s about practicing over and over again.

Once again . . . dismantles false security that you’ve got it figured out.

Once again . . . refreshes your memory.

Once again . . . diffuses panic.

Once again . . . sets in the motion muscle memory.

Once again . . . causes us to stop running down new, unchartered, fleeting paths of peace-seeking, anxiety-relieving strategies.

Once again, I’ll brush my teeth, pay my bills, call my family, do the laundry, walk the dog, take out the garbage, stretch my muscles and . . . be still in the Presence of God.

Seasons of crisis are exactly where “once again” is essential. The more stable, calm, routine-based and grounded we are in the normal, practiced parts of life, the more we will be able to endure, thrive and help. And the more we focus our thoughts on God, the clearer our thinking will be. Let’s be “once again” kind of people!

“Once again I’ll go over what God has done, lay out on the table the ancient wonders. I’ll ponder all the things You’ve accomplished and give a long, loving look at Your acts.” Psalm 77:11-12 (The Message)

In this bizarre and significant event, God promised a very old Abraham and his equally grey-haired wife Sarah, a baby. Sarah soon gave birth to their son, Isaac. The promise was fulfilled! Nice. Very nice.

Then, just as things were moving along smoothly in the direction that God had set up for them, God tested Abraham by instructing him to take a short trip to a mountain, build an altar and kill his son Isaac as a burnt offering in worship to God, instead of using an animal, as was the custom . . . Wait, what?

(Now there is more, SO MUCH MORE, to this story than I am touching on, so please, feel free to make a coffee, settle in and read the passage here or go back to Genesis 12 and start from there.)

Spoiler alert: God provided a way out at the last second, but Abraham’s faith was rock solid - even in light of this very strange instruction from God. And even though all of that is amazing - and hard to understand - that is not the part that intrigued me this time. It is what Abraham did after God gave him the instructions.

He started packing.

He loaded up the donkey, he cut firewood, he probably sharpened his knife, packed some rope, made some trail-mix, some jerky and organized a few servants to come along. He probably kissed his wife goodbye, fed the goats and closed the gate behind them as they left. His faith had shoes. He walked it out.

I imagine, however, that his mind was racing, his heart pounding, and the question that rolled over and over in his mind as he walked was . . . “Why?” I mean, this very instruction cancels out not only his son’s life, a miracle, but the promise that God had given him in the first place. It made no sense. But he walked on.

So, aside from all the other significant things about this story, I’ve stayed with this one thought: Am I walking out what God is asking me to do? Does my faith have shoes? Am I procrastinating, avoiding, stress-eating, wandering around in circles or am I simply, and obediently packing, making preparations, and walking it out.

Personally, I feel I am at a similar place (although CLEARLY not as drastic and strange as this story!).

This past year, with a now empty-nest as our sons moved out, and even our dog moved out to our friend’s house in the country, I began to imagine what this next season would be about. I thought about the direction that I thought God has been leading me in, my life experience, my dreams, my degrees and my interests and wondered if it was now time to take bigger steps forward into the middle of all of what I’ve been training for. However, my endometriosis has taken a turn for the worse and I’ve had to slowly and regularly let go of my responsibilities, my interests and my dreams. While I wait for surgery to hopefully provide relief of the pain and symptoms, I’ve been housebound, with pain meds and rest and healthy pain distractions as the main tasks of my day.

I’ve been here before, in various degrees, many times. However, this particular batch of pain and symptoms is similar to 27 years ago when I was first diagnosed so even though I have some skills at living with chronic pain, this is feeling pretty heavy. So, I’ve been letting go of things, slowly, painfully and with a struggle. I enjoy SO MANY of the tasks and responsibilities, volunteer opportunities and creative ideas. It has been difficult.

So I’ve been praying, “Lord, didn’t You set me up to go this direction? Wasn’t I going the way that You led me? Wasn’t there a reason for my training, my degree, my experience? Why now, is my life reduced to such simplicity? Simplicity that includes pain. And why the sudden change in direction?”

And what did Abraham do when his questions were unanswered? He started walking. He started packing. His faith had shoes.

So . . . what does walking-faith look like for me?

And for you?

My Grandparents used to drive us to Elk Island Park for a picnic. Buffalos roamed freely behind the fences and we’d watch them as my Grandpa set up a coleman stove to make coffee and prepare lunch. Grandma showed us how to pick up the huge dried “buffalo pies” and put them in plastic bags for compost for her garden. We thought this was pretty fun!

The drive there is probably only 45 minutes from home but as a kid it seemed like it took hours!

I loved this trip.

There was something about the bench seat in the back of their car that when I laid down on it, the sounds of the car seemed to seal up, almost making my ears pop and it lulled me to sleep. I could faintly hear their voices as we rounded the last corner, heard the signal come on as they turned the corner and felt the car slow to a stop. The heavy weight of the car, and Grandpa’s firm foot on the brake rolled me forward a little until I rolled back against the dark burgundy, tufted upholstery seat when it stopped.

As I anticipate my doctor’s appointment tomorrow and discuss the possibilities of a surgery to repair the damage that Endometriosis has recently done in and amongst my organs, I’ve been researching. There are a few specialists in a city close by and within Canada who are known for their expertise in these situations. I’ve been encouraged. I want to go to them. I want my Doctor to refer me. I want it to happen soon . . .

This morning, I wrote my wishes out in my journal as a prayer to God, asking, uh, actually, demanding that He use my research. And as I wrote, I saw my words, my angst, my will.

For the past 25 years, this disease has been in my body. Seven surgeries, many ultrasounds, MRI’s, CT scans, X-rays, scopes in every possible place a scope could be and doctor appointments almost as many times as trips to the grocery store. HOWEVER, life has been lived, marriage enjoyed, two sons have been raised and launched, relationships deepened with friends and family, further education pursued, books written, crafts created, and most of all, joy has been given to me, IN THE MIDST OF PAIN.

So, yes . . . this morning, as I wrote and saw my words pouring out onto the paper, my anxious, demanding, concerned and assertive words, I also sensed God’s invitation. “I know.” He seemed to be saying to me. “I know you’re in pain, I know you’re worried . . . Let’s just go for a drive.” And as I imagine, I imagine that He doesn’t say much more but as the sounds of everything quiets down in His Presence, I lean back, feeling the upholstery behind me, watching the scenery go by and feeling the motion settle me down, slowly.

Jesus said, “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

Matthew 11:28-30 (The Message)

For the past 25 years, I’ve lived with stage four Endometriosis which is a chronic illness causing internal abdominal bleeding and scar tissue that spider-webs all the organs together. Each season has a different story, some times have been easier than others. Currently, it appears that the adhesions/scar tissue are affecting my intestines now and causing pain. A colonoscopy three weeks ago to take some biopsies has increased my pain to such a degree that I’ve been at home in bed or on the couch, unable to be upright for more than 15 minutes. I’m hoping for a surgery soon to relieve some of this pain. For now, pain killers, heating pad, rest, help from my husband, routine and distractions are helping me manage. So I’m okay. (Mom, if you’re reading, don’t worry. :))

Because I’ve been at this for a long time now, I have some coping skills that I didn’t have at the beginning. So as soon as pain begins to escalate, I know how to clear my calendar and expectations so that life aligns with the pain that exists. I’ve learned how to ask for help, how to say no to invitations, how to pace myself and take care of the pain. But it is not easy so I reach for perspective.

Mary DeMuth in her book Everything writes “God’s heart in Jeremiah’s famous verse is not that we escape our lot, but that we learn to thrive in the midst of it. Jesus uttered this same truth: “I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world” (John 16:33). He is our future, our hope. He is the place we go when this heavy world presses in. He enables us to grasp that elusive resilience. He doesn’t remove us from pain. He uses the pain in our lives to discipline us, to make us ready to love him more and bring more folks to his footstool. This world in which we rejoice, cry, worry, love, hope and fear is a passing shadow. And we learn the art of resilience in the midst of it, with dirtied hands and worn-out feet. God doesn’t remove; He brings us through. Exile burns a sustainable resilience into us. The kind of resilience where we learn to be faithful in little and do unnoticed things without complaint.” (p. 60)

Sustainable resilience.

For me, that means having the right view, looking at the right things the right way and that is something that God has done in my heart.

This is my view this morning. A snap shot from my bed as I write. When I wake up, morning sunlight comes through our window, a basket of not-yet-folded laundry sits on my desk but it doesn’t need to disappear for me to feel restful. There is a painting my husband did for me of a dream that I had that was very meaningful, a small paper to the right of the painting that is my perspective for the past year. I read it every night when I’m brushing my teeth before bed. There’s a small marble Inukshuk that I found in a thrift store that traditionally the Inuit used as a directional aid to communicate with others, essentially “walk this way”. I keep it to remind myself to continue on the path that God is calling me to. Behind it is the first note my husband gave me when I was 10 years old, two walking sticks our sons gave to my husband when they were young and an old country kitchen cabinet that now holds our linen. Throughout the rest of our home are small reminders, little images or carefully chosen pieces of furniture or blankets that represent meaning, purpose and a view. All these things are in place. Routines and habits and visual reminders of the simple and focused life that God has called me to live in the midst of pain that never really goes away. God has enabled me to be content, in our cozy home, moving from the bed to the couch to the kitchen back to the couch. A small world, for now. But I feel joy, peace, creativity and a sense that this time is for something, for reasons that I can’t see. I read this morning from Mary DeMuth’s book, “It’s a humble reminder that we are poor judges of impact. We simply entrust our lives and words to God and let Him use them as He pleases, often in secret.”

I said yesterday to my husband, “My world is so small right now–inside these four walls.” He joked, “Are you really missing that much?” So today, as it is now 1pm, and I’m still in bed, I’m grateful. God has given me contentment, joy, peace, and a set of coping muscles that enable me to thrive within this pain, to do what I need to do each day to not just cope, but thrive. I am thriving because of God’s love and presence with me. That’s a pretty good place to be!

I googled “room with a view” this morning, and one definition said, “A room with a view means a life that is free and open to adventure and possibility, one that is not too closely confined by the strictures of society.” Or as Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “I can’t tell you how much I long for you to enter this wide-open, spacious life. We didn’t fence you in. The smallness you feel comes from within you. Your lives aren’t small, but you’re living them in a small way. I’m speaking as plainly as I can and with great affection. Open up your lives. Live openly and expansively!”

Have a great month of December friends!!

I lead a seniors’ group at our church called “Lunch & Learn” and the speaker last week was a good friend and very talented musician, Matt Day.

He led us in an exercise that he does for his music care program where he works with patients in the rehabilitation unit at the Glenrose Hospital. By playing just a few notes of a song, memories were instantly refreshed and people started singing along as if they had the lyrics right in front of them! It was really fun.

What was amazing to me was how it only took a few notes of a song to open up words, melodies, memories, smiles and stories. It only took a few notes.

Since then, I’ve been curious about the other things that are stored in our brains that when triggered, will unlock, open up and automatically start playing.

When I see a dog walking with it’s owner, it doesn’t matter what is on my mind, if I have pain or feel tired or grumpy, I instantly smile, ask if I can pet their dog and get down on my knees to give him a good scratch. It is an auto-response. In fact, my husband is always shocked when I manage to just keep walking by.

When I hear test results at the doctor’s office, I usually take a deep breath, breathe out a quiet “Hoooo, ok” sound and then begin writing things down. It just happens without me thinking about it. It’s an automatic response.

But there are other things that are more subtle, deeper, less noticeable to others, that have the same auto-play response and this is what I am most curious about.

Consider this, what “songs” start playing when the following things happen:

• Someone doesn’t return your call/email for a few days.

• You don’t fit into your favourite jeans.

• You weren’t invited to a family gathering.

• You see photos of a friend’s trip.

• You receive an honour at work.

• Someone else receives honour.

• Your birthday is one week away.

• You need to ask for help.

I’m speaking at a ladies retreat in the Spring and I’m considering doing this as an exercise. I think it would be interesting, funny perhaps and most likely sobering to actually try writing out the lyrics to these songs.

It’s hard for many of us to be still, be quiet and listen to what the Lord wants to say to us. It’s hard for us to fall asleep at night if our brain is on auto-play and the messages are deeply ingrained and refreshed with every new trigger.

But what if we started to do inventory. What if we identified and noticed the songs that are on auto-play.

What if we created a personal bingo sheet that when those songs start to play, we can say, “Ah, yes!! There it is!! I recognize the song, “I’m a loser because my jeans are too tight” . And then, instead of just singing along and letting it shape our thinking, we check it off on our bingo sheet and replace it with a new song. Maybe one like this . . .

Our brains have been beautifully and brilliantly created by God. Let’s be attentive to the songs that we allow to enter and stay and play on repeat!

May we be refreshed by God’s Word, and learn to replace old worthless songs with His truthful ones.

It is a bold thing to encourage someone to have faith.

“Trust God”, we say. “Wait on Him, let Him lead You.” We nod, pat them on the back and tell them a few reassuring stories. After all, that is the right thing to say isn’t it? Isn’t that God’s desire for us, that we trust Him?

This morning in church, all the kids were called up to the front for a prayer before they ran off to their kids’ church and the leader used the acronym FROG: Fully Relying On God, to describe their theme for the day. If my kids were little, I’d be happy for them to run off to that kind of class. It’s good. It’s right. It's biblical.

But you know what else is biblical? Shame.

Dan Allender, in his book “The Healing Path”, wrote a profound sentence about this. He said,

“Shame is the exposure of our foolishness to have trusted that another person would be true and good toward us.”

When we have been hurt, betrayed or suffered loss at the hand of someone whom we trusted, we feel shame. “How could I have been so stupid?” “I should have known better”, “Why didn’t I see that coming?” We blame ourselves, we feel exposed and embarrassed. We make quick decisions to never let that happen again.

I’ve often connected the concept of shame with the Genesis 3 account of God’s interaction with Adam and Eve. We’re probably all familiar with the outcome that says once they sinned, they felt shame. But this week, I was considering another angle to the story. I wonder if they felt shame before they sinned.

God told Adam and Eve what He wanted for their relationship in that beautiful garden of Eden. He set the ground rules, gave them freedom and told them to stay away from one tree. Just one. No problem. It seemed like a good arrangement and everyone was happy. “Trust me”, God was essentially saying by allowing there to be limitations.

The next scene of the story is where Satan appears as a snake and has a little chat with the woman.

Read Dan Allender’s quote again but with Eve as it’s subject. “Shame is the exposure of Eve’s foolishness to have trusted that God would be true and good toward her.” She’s been walking around the garden of Eden, avoiding this one tree out of her love and trust of God. She gave the tree a wide berth in order to get around it and quite happily ate from other trees no matter how delicious those apples looked. Satan feeds her some lines about how God lied to her, and how God has been tricking her. Eve looks down at the thick, green lush grass near the tree that she has never walked near and feels kinda stupid. “Ya think?” Satan mocks. “You’ve been lied to, fooled. Come on, you’re smarter than this, think about it, use your head!”

I imagine Eve’s face turning pink as she thought, “How could I have been so stupid? Why didn’t I question God? Where is God anyways? I should have known better? I should’ve seen this coming? I am hungry for this apple. Why didn’t my husband do something? I’m never going to let this happen again.”

We’re not that different from Eve or her silent husband in the story. We have good days where we rest, work, trust and really believe that God is good and loving. We believe. We have faith and we’re ready to accept our limitations as something that God has allowed or permitted or given. We don’t understand, but we don’t need to. We trust.

But then we hear that mocking voice suggesting something different, something sinister, something that discredits God’s love. And when it comes from the enemy, it will be a message that is designed specifically to shame you and I where we are most vulnerable. Be aware, friends. Be attentive. And when shame starts creeping in, turn your face toward God and tell Him about it. Say the “Lord, I feel stupid - what’s that about?” prayer. Bring it into the light of God’s love and He will show you the truth of His love.

“Let grace, mercy, and peace be with us in truth and love from God the Father and from Jesus Christ, Son of the Father!” 2 John 1:3

Sometimes it seems like God collects a number of different ways to say the same thing to me. Or maybe it is His patience with how I’m not listening. Or maybe God knows how prone I am to forgetting what I just learned so He continues a theme of reminders over and over again. Whatever it is, however He works, I am in awe.

This past month the passage in John 16 stood out to me like a bright spot light! Jesus tells His disciples, “I’ve told you all this so that trusting me, you will be unshakable and assured, deeply at peace. In this godless world you will continue to experience difficulties. But take heart! I’ve conquered the world.”

It wasn’t a pep talk, I mean it was, but it was also a wiping the window clean, rubbing the eyes, putting on glasses kind of a perspective.

See? (my paraphrase) See? you will CONTINUE to experience difficulties, don’t be surprised or pretend it’s easy. It’s difficult. It will continue to be difficult.

I randomly chose the above movie on Netflix the other day just as a light, fun movie to watch in the evening. (Spoiler alert) Alexander, after having everything go wrong for him was frustrated that his Dad was a super optimist and Mom always put on a brave smile. This bugged him. So on his birthday he wished that his whole family could experience a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. And they did. And near the end of the movie, Alexander speaks to his family about how some days are just bad, and it’s okay to say that they are. The Dad admitted his burden that he feels he needs to make everything better for everyone. Alexander kicks a garbage can and says that some days are just bad. So they all kicked garbage cans together as a family. Good ending.

This morning I read this in a book by Dan Allender, The Healing Path: “Still many will say, But we have the Holy Spirit and he empowers us”. Indeed we do. But we have the Spirit to open our eyes, free our senses, and enable us to suffer as Christ. To suffer is to embrace our situation without flight, fantasy or control. The Spirit empower us to embrace and revolutionize our powerlessness.”

Lord, as we each face the situations in front of us, may your Holy Spirit open our eyes, free our senses, enable us to suffer as Christ did! Help us to not sugar-coat the realities of our lives. If they are difficult, give us strength to admit that to ourselves, to you, and to others. Give us courage to ask for help. Humble us to take the necessary steps to do what is in our control to do and trust everything to you. May our suffering free us from the things we cling to that we believe will make us happy. Revolutionize our powerlessness for Your glory. Amen.

Jesus gives answers to the questions that we’re afraid to ask OR the fears we are afraid to admit.

Maybe it’s best if I just let Jesus speak for himself . . .

“You’re blessed when you’re at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule.

You’re blessed when you feel you’ve lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.

You’re blessed when you’re content with just who you are—no more, no less. That’s the moment you find yourselves proud owners of everything that can’t be bought.

You’re blessed when you’ve worked up a good appetite for God. He’s food and drink in the best meal you’ll ever eat.

You’re blessed when you care. At the moment of being ‘care-full,’ you find yourselves cared for.

You’re blessed when you get your inside world—your mind and heart—put right. Then you can see God in the outside world.

You’re blessed when you can show people how to cooperate instead of compete or fight. That’s when you discover who you really are, and your place in God’s family.

You’re blessed when your commitment to God provokes persecution. The persecution drives you even deeper into God’s kingdom.

Not only that—count yourselves blessed every time people put you down or throw you out or speak lies about you to discredit me. What it means is that the truth is too close for comfort and they are uncomfortable. You can be glad when that happens—give a cheer, even!—for though they don’t like it, I do! And all heaven applauds. And know that you are in good company. My prophets and witnesses have always gotten into this kind of trouble.

Let me tell you why you are here. You’re here to be salt-seasoning that brings out the God-flavours of this earth. If you lose your saltiness, how will people taste godliness? You’ve lost your usefulness and will end up in the garbage. Here’s another way to put it: You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colours in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven.”

Matthew 5:3-16

This past month, I wrote about having one focus for July. Now that the month is almost over, a few things are becoming clear.

My focus for July was on a few things:

• painting all wooden structures, fences etc in our backyard.

• a staycation, enjoying rest, solitude and friendships, while my husband was out of town for work.

• and meditating on the way that Jesus offered forgiveness in the gospels.

As I focused on just these three things, there was a very simple and quiet theme that emerged throughout the month. If I could sum it up in one word it would be truth.

The truth about our backyard is that all the wooden structures needed paint. I could tell you that it was fine, but the truth was that paint was faded, peeling and things were looking shabby and it wasn’t restful on the eyes.

The truth about my staycation is that I needed rest from people. Even though my husband was visiting family whom I love on his work trip, I needed time at home more. That was the truth. I found great joy in walking to the store by myself, tidying the house, reading, cooking, calling up friends for coffee and sleeping in.

And most refreshing of all, is that I realized the truth about how Jesus offered forgiveness. He didn’t sweep things under the carpet and say, “It’s all good, no worries, you’re forgiven.” Nope. He knew, 100%, because he was God-incarnate, all the sins people had ever done or would do. He knew it all. He was completely aware of each and every way that someone had turned to something else to find life or satisfaction besides God and had therefore sinned. So whether Jesus spoke out loud about that person’s heart to them in the moment or just told them they were forgiven, it was in FULL knowledge of what they had done.

So as I painted my fence, and enjoyed my staycation, God brought many things to my mind. I thought if I was meditating on forgiveness and reading through the gospels, I would have a warm and fuzzy month thinking about it. But just the opposite happened. Forgiveness is hard work. It requires remembering and naming things and acknowledging that harm was done. If we say that we forgive someone and we can’t quite remember what happened, it falls flat. It is useless.

If we place ourselves in any of those stories in the gospels where Jesus looked someone in the eye and spoke to them about their sin AND forgave them, it’s an intense moment. I mean, imagine, Jesus sitting with you or I right now. And whether or not we are even aware of how we’ve turned to other things besides Him, like worry, obsessive behaviours, addictions, busy-ness, depending on social media for affirmation . . . Jesus would look into the depths of our soul, and see, and name it, and forgive us. Intense.

So to consider that we are forgiven that way, imagine how we must forgive those who have harmed us. It’s not a light thing. It’s not a “just get over it” idea. It’s acknowledging that harm WAS done, that we hurt, and that it affected us, and that Jesus knows it fully. And as we think about and feel that pain again, maybe in a fresh way, we glance over at Jesus. He’s sitting with us, quietly, calmly, and He understands. We see his hands, the scars from the nails, and we’re aware that He suffered for our sin. For the ways that we caused harm. He suffered. He paid the penalty so that we don’t have to. So we turn to that person who harmed us, and then we look back at Jesus again. We cannot NOT forgive . . . because we have been forgiven.

Is there a truth that you’ve been denying? A fence that needs to be painted, the reality of a broken relationship that needs to be addressed? Jesus came in grace AND truth. Both. Not one, not the other, but both. This is where we find freedom, in the intense gaze of Jesus’ love for us. He knows it all. He wants us to stop pretending, denying and making excuses for what is really, actually, kind of shabby looking. Truth is where change begin to happen.

I remember hearing someone say, “Read the Bible from front to back, but never, ever, ignore the gospels, because that’s where you meet Jesus face to face.”

May your next month be one of experiencing Jesus that closely.

As I’ve been tapering off some medication, I’ve needed to keep track so I’ve had a small sticky note on my bathroom wall. It has the name of the month written on the top, the schedule for my meds and a few important dates/events that are top priority.

It also includes a short focus statement. For me, this means something that if and when I feel distracted by circumstances, I can be reminded of as I read it while brushing my teeth before bed.

Less than two months ago, my oldest brother passed away. It was an extremely difficult and exhausting time as we walked through the week of the funeral and the wedding of his daughter a few days later. I won’t say much more about that here as those thoughts will remain precious and private. But I will say that I experienced an exhaustion that was profound. My capacity to be with people, have simple conversations and attend regular outings wore me out like nothing I’ve experienced.

I took the opportunity to stay home, skip church, miss out on parties and just reserve my energy for my husband, sons and a few close friends and family. I’ve heard that there is no formula for grief or loss so I just allowed myself to experience it as is. I did notice however, that time and sleep and more time, increased my levels of energy and capacity.

So as July begins and new expectations pop up in conversations, “What are you doing this summer?" “Got any plans?” I feel compelled to keep the sticky-note, focus-statement on the wall of my bathroom.

July’s focus =

How about you? What are the top priorities for you this month? How is your energy? What do you feel is most important right now? Rest? Activity? One project? Less projects? Staying home? Travelling?

I invite you to join me, and take some time to assess and choose a focus for July . . . and then August . . . and maybe by September we’ll feel refreshed for the new energy that the new season brings having chosen well throughout the summer.

Happy July to you. :)

Heather

Go ahead and read that quote one more time if you like.

To slow down takes muscles, muscles that unless exercised, become weak. Weak muscles cannot do what we want them to do. They limit us.

Our spiritual life requires strong muscles. Why? So that we can be restful, able to receive God’s grace and truth, attentive to His leading and obedient to live out who He wants us to be in this broken world.

Have you ever been around someone who has these kinds of spiritual muscles? When they talk, do you sense their strength? When they ask you questions, do you feel seen, heard and known? Is there something about them that seems unshakable? You could tell them anything and they would stay with you, solid, genuine, real but steady and calm. Does it seem like they are living from an unseen resource, a spring of life, something that sustains them and overflows to you? You know they care about you, but they don’t need anything from you. They’ve already received from God, something that has fed them and made them whole. What you’re seeing are spiritual muscles. They’ve been developed, trained and nourished by God.

I saw a bodybuilder in a coffee shop last week. It’s not an ordinary sight. I watched her barely reach the coffee cup to her mouth because of her massive bicep. I visibly saw evidence of hundreds of hours of private training. That doesn’t happen in one weekend, or one workout. It is the cumulation of many choices every day to make building those kind of muscles a priority. And it works. It shows.

So how does one, as Dallas Willard say, “ruthlessly eliminate hurry from our lives” and build spiritual muscles?

I believe it starts very simply with our calendars. If we are care-full with our scheduling, strategic with our planning and disciplined with our time, we won’t be always running to catch up and our muscles will strengthen. And just like the body-builder, this doesn’t happen in one workout or one weekend, it takes time, practice, and coaching.

If this is new for you, let me offer a few practical steps that I have found helpful in my on-going need for spiritual muscle development.

(I encourage you to prayerfully engage in something like this, but in a practical way. Don’t try to ‘spiritualize’ it and make it look like you’re reading your Bible 10 hours a day. A workout, is well balanced, and exercises all parts, equally, so that your overall health is improved. You may find that what you most need is sleep, or nature, or solitude rather than attending more church activities. So prayerfully work out your calendar together with the Lord but pay attention to the practical stuff because sometimes, that’s how God speaks.)

1. Schedule two hours alone somewhere away from family, phone and work.

   The first hour allows you to drive somewhere, relax, get coffee, find a comfy spot, allow your mind to slow down a little and enter into a ‘retreat’ mode. Bring your calendar and paper or journal or whatever helps you think things through.

2. Then, look at your calendar from the past month.

   What do you see? What do you notice? Is there intentional order to what you’re doing or can you ask yourself hard questions like: “Am I just responding to needs in order to fill my own needs?” “Is this what I really want to be spending my time on?” “Why am I doing what I’m doing?”

3. Then look ahead at the next month, or the one that you’re in now.

   Put the essential things on the calendar: important celebrations, appointments, deadlines for projects, commitments, change the oil, regular life things that you would normally have to do during the month.

4. Then, add in your spiritual workout exercises.

   It might be reading or listening to Scripture, journalling, reading good books, community and conversation with other Christians, solitude time away from people, time spent in nature, or creating art, or music or dance.

5. Now, look at your calendar.

   You’ve got the essential responsibilities of your life and family scheduled in, you’ve added in some spiritual exercises and . . . how does it look? Full? Overwhelming? It’s okay. What you’ve done is in these two hours is beneficial. It’s one good workout and you will soon start to see results. Take a final sip of your coffee and gather your things and go home.

If you can do this on a regular basis and begin to take control of your calendar, making intentional, prayerful choices about how you spend your time, adding in spiritual exercises, you’ll begin to see your own spiritual muscles grow!

“Every part of Scripture is God-breathed and useful one way or another—showing us truth, exposing our rebellion, correcting our mistakes, training us to live God’s way. Through the Word we are put together and shaped up for the tasks God has for us.” 2 Timothy 3:16-17 (The Message)

I’m happy to say that my pain has decreased. Yup. I’ll say it once more…DEcreased!

I can hardly believe it myself and am cautious . . but I am incredibly thankful! Endometriosis can go dormant with less hormones so as I wean off of the final treatments of hormones . . . I’m noticing a recognizable, consistent change - and I’m extremely grateful.

This break from continual pain is like sunshine after a storm, the warm crackle of a campfire that brings instant relief, the first sip of hot coffee in the morning, the breathtaking view at the top of a mountain you’ve just climbed . . . you only appreciate it because moments before, it wasn’t there. It’s in the absence of something that we become grateful for its presence.

My doctor explained that now I have more “usable hours”.

I understood what he was talking about but I also knew that every “un-usable” hour, in that definition, has been made valuable by God. (I’ve met a new friend this past year who gets this! She lives with migraines and spends many hours in the dark– literally in the dark! She wrote an amazing piece called Treasures in the Darkness that you can read here .)

So the question that I’ve been pondering this past month is how will I use these hours? If you were given, let’s say, five more hours, full energy, per day, how would you use them? Since my pain is less in the morning, I can get up earlier without needing extra time. I don’t need to nap every day. I take less pain-killers, and I can stay up until midnight. That to me, is like gaining five more hours! Last night, 11pm, I went on the treadmill for 10 minutes and did about 5 very weak, uh, realistic sit ups and push ups. Just a few. But I began to have a glimpse of what life could be like if this continued. I feel an excitement growing but also a responsibility to figure it out, pros and cons, make a plan, come up with goals and strategies. I don’t want to get it wrong. I want to use this gift of health well. I want to know what I don’t know so that I can plan . . .

This past week I read that maybe I don’t need to know those answers.

Mark Galli, in his AWESOME book Jesus, Mean and Wild, writes, “Yes, God will give to those who seek, knock, and ask; he will fulfill our longings for wisdom and love–but only up to a point. To be human is to be finite and to have eternity placed in our hearts, which means we know that we will forever exist as finite beings, with infinity–that is, perfect fulfillment of all our longings–just out of reach.”

We long to be significant, to love and be loved, to live with purpose and find satisfaction. Galli writes, “That our questions will remain unanswered and our longings unfulfilled is precisely the glorious nature of heaven”. A. W. Tozer wrote, “The yearning to know What cannot be known, to comprehend the Incomprehensible, to touch and taste the Unapproachable, arises from the image of God in the nature of man. Deep calleth unto deep, and though polluted and landlocked by the mighty disaster theologians call the Fall, the soul senses its origin and longs to return to its Source”.

Back to 2019 in Edmonton, Alberta, in my little living room . . . I have been given increased health, for a time, and I’m grateful. And yet, my heart longs for more . . . I’m asking, “How will I use these hours?”

Galli writes, “Jesus urges us beyond our closed, comfortable systems. He teaches us slowly, elusively, in a way that requires patience and searching and more patience. The kingdom is a continual growing, expanding, and deepening of infatuation, he says. It is not a puzzle to be solved or an answer to be given or a system to be explained. The kingdom is that infuriating and delightful thing we call an obsession, like golf, or we call joy, like an eternal falling in love”.

So this past week, I decided to wait in this longing, feel it, not fix it, and just do ordinary things. I cleaned the bathroom, worked on taxes, filed things, trimmed the dog’s nails, swept the driveway, took out the garbage, peeled carrots, cleaned the fridge. I didn’t gain any insight into my future plans, but my house got cleaned and I could sense my own heart being cleaned of its desire for attention and affirmation. I could see my desire to do exciting and significant things rising up and quieting down as I picked up a q-tip from behind the bathroom garbage can.

I still don’t know if there is any change in my future plans. I’m curious, but I understand more that it’s not really my business to figure it out. Pay attention? Yes. Surrender my plans to God? Yes. But figure it out? No, I don’t think so. My biggest imagination would not even come close to what God is up to!

“No one’s ever seen or heard anything like this, Never so much as imagined anything quite like it—What God has arranged for those who love him.” 1 Corinthians 2:9

I stopped in a liquor store the other day to pick up a bottle of red wine. It was the last item on my grocery list and I was looking forward to quickly getting home. As I walked in, a staff member informed me that their scanning system was down. She asked me to choose my item and bring the paper price-tag from the shelf to the cashier. I looked over and saw a line up of at least 20 people, ten on each side. So, I found the wine, detached the paper tag from the shelf and proceeded to the line up holding my paper tag.

For the next 20 minutes, a staff member greeted people at the door, walked to each of us asking us if we had our tag and running back to shelves to get tags if people forgot. (She handled the situation really well!) Aside from the one angry man who spoke loudly on his phone to the manager demanding a refund for the time he spent waiting . . . the rest of us had a great time! It was the most chatty bunch of shoppers that I’ve been with for a long time.

The guy in front of me smelled so thickly of alcohol, I was surprised that he needed more, but he clung onto his tequila bottle and said he wasn’t leaving the store without it. He reminisced about the good old days when scanners hadn’t been invented, when price tags were stickers and how you could switch the stickers around if you were quick enough. His eyes twinkled and he seemed to come alive with this 20 minute wait as we all closely stood together. The people behind me decided to share the same tag because they were buying the same brand of beer. They became buddies. The 10 people on the other side of the cashier started chatting, sharing tags, encouraging the young cashiers that they were doing a good job as they hand wrote each purchase and calculated price, gst, and deposit amounts on paper, old-school style.

For a moment, as I stood and watched and listened, I felt like I was in the foyer of my church.

We long to be known. And when we’re forced to look each other in the eyes and interact, something amazing happens. I’m not against technology. It makes transactions efficient, simplifies life and allows me to do my banking from my living room couch. But, it also permits us to live in a hurry–conveniently avoiding contact with others.

As I drove away, I was intrigued. I liked what happened in there. I liked being so close to so many random people and being “forced” to interact. It made me wonder about elevators, buses, doctor waiting rooms . . . and it made me want to remember how good it felt to be humans together - even in the liquor store. I wondered if this experience was rare for many of those people.

Sometimes I think that elderly people know this secret already. They seem more free in their spirits to casually chat in the grocery store or laugh about something in the parking lot or take time to tell a story. They seem gracious when things take more time than usual and often wave me ahead of them, assuming I’m in a rush.

I don’t know if I’ll ever stand in line behind my tequila friend again, but if I do, I’m gonna bring up that day and see if he remembers. Those little moments can mean something, perhaps more than we realize.

Fresh starts and new seasons often need times of pause and reflection on how things are going.

In this podcast, I suggest a simple exercise that you can do to assess the past two months and bring it before the Lord for his wisdom to help you discern how it’s going!

I’m staying in Psalm 1 this month and letting Scripture sink in deeply.

The NIV version says: “Blessed is the one who does not walk in step with the wicked or stand in the way that sinners take or sit in the company of mockers, but whose delight is in the law of the Lord, and who meditates on his law day and night. That person is like a tree planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in season and whose leaf does not wither—whatever they do prospers.” (vs 1-3)

The first week, I thought a lot about “yields its fruit in season”, and became curious about the other times, when fruit is not budding, when it’s quiet and slow and what it means to wait.

The second week, I read the same verses in the Message which says: “How well God must like you—you don’t hang out at Sin Saloon, you don’t slink along Dead-End Road, you don’t go to Smart-Mouth College. Instead you thrill to God’s Word, you chew on Scripture day and night. You’re a tree replanted in Eden, bearing fresh fruit every month, Never dropping a leaf, always in blossom.” (vs 1-3)

Replanted in Eden? That’s a whole different story! I hadn’t paid much attention to the idea of being planted by a stream . . . that felt quite ordinary . . . but Eden, the place of perfection, harmony and health! A place and time where things were created to work as they should, with no sin, no decay, no disease - just perfect, beautiful and productive. Wow.

So I began to wonder what it means that meditating on God and His word replants me into an Eden-environment, powered by the very presence of God.

Richard Foster, in his book Celebration of Discipline writes, “Many people believe that at its very best meditation leads to an unhealthy otherworldliness that keeps us immune to the suffering of humanity. Such evaluations are far from the mark. In fact, meditation is the one thing that can sufficiently redirect our lives so that we can deal with human life successfully. “

Richard Foster also writes about our desire and contentment to be second-hand receivers of God’s message to us:

“The history of religion is the story of an almost desperate scramble to have a king, a mediator, a priest, a pastor, a go-between. In this way, we do not need to go to God ourselves. Such an approach saves us from the need to change, for to be in the presence of God is to change. We do not need to observe Western culture very closely to realize that it is captivated by the religion of the mediator.” (p. 24)

Perhaps the thing that keeps us from including the spiritual discipline of meditation in our lives is not that we don’t have time, but that we are afraid to sit quietly in the presence of God. What will He say? What will He reveal? Will we be confronted by our sin, our selfishness, our fears? Will He speak to us about our deepest desires? Will He say nothing? Or maybe we believe we can do things better than Him, or faster, so we rely on our own power because its something we can do.

But replanted . . . in Eden, imagine . . .

I heard one person say that when they climb out of bed in the morning and their feet touch the floor, it’s her “Good morning God” moment, and it triggers her thoughts to turn to God. She has other little reminders throughout their day to draw her attention back to God too.

Meditation on God requires faith . . . an active stillness . . . that we stop trying to fix everything and instead allow God to produce beauty and nourishment and productivity in ways we can’t even imagine.

But let’s imagine . . . in your life right now, what could He do if your attention was fully on Him and the replanting process could begin?

I wasn’t surprised by this. God is not our comfort-candy machine where we put a prayer in and get comfort out. He invites us to come to Him but He doesn’t exactly promise what will happen next. He offers us His Presence and the rest is a mystery. But I was sad and weary. I went to bed that night glad to have written the blog but felt like my pilot flame was low and flickering, without much sign of it turning up.

The next day, however, was FILLED with encouragement. But not what I expected:

• I had a doctor appointment and I described my symptoms using an expression. My doctor stopped me and said, “Heather, that is brilliant! Where did you read that?” I told him that I made it up. He said he’d like to borrow it for his patients.

• I received an email from someone who lives with migraines and she had been listening to my podcasts in the darkness of her bedroom while she was resting. God had met her there and given her fresh hope.

• I received more emails, texts and a random conversation that my husband had with someone who mentioned me, all about thankfulness for my encouragement to them through my writing.

There’s a story about a little boy who climbed a tree, lost his grip and began to fall. He cried out, “God, help me!” and then he continued, “Never mind, my pants got caught on a branch.”

I think that’s how my prayers tend to go. I cry out for comfort . . . and I expect that it will look a certain way. But instead, God gently intervenes and provides in ways I never would have expected.

As I received these random emails and texts from friends and strangers, I began to understand that perhaps my desire to help people and come alongside them in their suffering is STRONGER than my desire for comfort. It’s as if God showed me a glimpse of how He can speak His love to this world through my life, through my words, through my pain. I felt as if God was pulling back the blinds and revealing to me the game plan, the purpose, the bigger picture. And without actually voicing the question, I felt as if He was asking me, “Do you want comfort more than this?”

I believe my answer is no.

I do want to live a life with purpose. I do want to be courageous and brave and adventurous and unafraid. I do want to love others, deeply, and offer them the encouragement that I receive from God so that they can find hope and purpose. And if that means that pain remains as part of my story, then I accept.

And strangely enough, my pilot light is ON, my heart is FULL, and I feel God’s COMFORT in the reality that He is WITH me, that He and I are in this TOGETHER and that my small offerings, much like the lunch that the boy offered Jesus, is being multiplied far beyond anything I can imagine!

And somehow, that has been the comfort that I really needed!

I’ve never liked stretching. It seems like it’s the kind of thing you do in order to get on with other things. That’s probably why I haven’t been able to get into yoga - it seems like just a bunch of stretching with nothing else to look forward to after-just stretching for stretching’s sake.

However, my pain has been quite high lately and so I took a hot bath and then devoted a large chunk of time to this strange activity.

As I held each stretch, I could feel the muscles begin to soften and loosen and I was able to reach further than the few minutes before. Joints relaxed, muscles lengthened and bones seemed to adjust into place. Thirty minutes later, I didn’t hate stretching as much.

We’re working through the book With, by Syke Jethani in our church. Great book. Today, the challenge was to consider “Even if . . .” statements. So, even if my chronic pain doesn’t go away, I choose being with God as my highest value. Even if I don’t get the job I’m hoping for, I choose being with God is still better. Life with God is better than any other thing I’m hoping or striving for.

So, tonight as I layed on my floor holding each stretch, I decided to practice being with God . . . choosing to be in His presence, with Him. But, as I held the stretch, I felt the pain. I felt the pain of the muscle stretching and I felt the pain of the longing for all the other things that I wished I could be doing instead of laying here taking care of this body. Being with God didn’t feel good. Being with the pain, holding the stretch in order to relieve the pain took time and patience and wasn’t fun. I cried a bit, just tears, not weeping, just quiet tears.

Living with chronic pain, I’ve become good at healthy distraction. It’s a skill that actually helps and redirects the brain from focusing on the pain. But it can’t be how I function 24/7. I must, at some point, sit still, hold the stretch and feel the pain. This happens at each doctor appointment when I’m asked to describe my recent symptoms, each lab test, each time I refill my meds and book my next appointment.

So tonight as layed on the floor, stretching, focusing on the pain, staying with it in order to relieve it, I was with Jesus. Nothing spectacular happened. I had a few tears, I talked to Him about how I felt, asked for His comfort and asked if He could show me a fresh glimpse of the purpose in all this. But it was quiet.

Afterwards, I crawled into bed and grabbed a little book that I’ve written verses in for moments like this . . . and I read, “Therefore, we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

It’s hard for me to believe that Jesus loves me in my weakness, in my swollen stomach and puffy eyes and painful body and that He wants to be with me as I lay on the floor stretching. It’s hard to believe that I’m enough as I am. But I’m going to try to accept His love, His desire to be together and that even though I’m not doing as much as I want to, He loves me. Perhaps that’s the stretch that I need to hold for awhile in order to find the right kind of relief for my soul.

Some people say, “Let the past stay in the past”.

It’s an interesting concept but it doesn’t really work. Everything we do in the present has been affected by the past and is now shaping the future. It is all connected, whether we like it or not.

Watch a movie, see how the characters develop. They are often stuck in the present, unable to move forward because of something from their past. The only way for them to move past it, is to face it, and often, to have other people speak a new meaning into it for them. This allows them to use it as a launching pad forward. Or read Scripture! Watch how Moses was stuck in the present, living as a Hebrew man in an Egyptian palace, unable to embrace either identity as his own. When he saw an Egyptian guard beating a Hebrew slave, he reacted out of anger and killed the guard. He fled and retreated to the desert not yet knowing who he was, what his purpose was and what God had in mind for him. His ‘present’ was stuck, his ‘past’ was influencing it and his ‘future’ was without focus.

This is where I believe God invites us to be with him: in the present, with our past, looking toward the future.

Imagine, that our lives, every moment, including the sentence I’ve just written, is in a ‘past’ filing cabinet. We’d each have one of our own. It would contain our stories, events and conversations, emails, thank you notes, threats, losses and joys, successes, failures, friendships, insecurities, thoughts, dreams and fears. Every little bit. Feeling uncomfortable yet? Ya, me too. But stay with me . . .

God knows all of it. So being that we’re in a relationship with him, it would be foolish to pretend he doesn’t. He does. So when we spend time with him in prayer, on walks, while we’re singing worship songs in church, He’s aware of it all. If we don’t acknowledge this, then it’s like we throw a blanket over the cabinet, put a nice smelling candle on top, maybe some flowers or a cool thing we found at the thrift shop. We might slide a big plant in front and then suggest that for our ‘prayer time’, we go for a walk outside, where it’s a little less cluttered and nicer.

I imagine that God’s invitation looks different from that.

I imagine that he would make a cup of coffee for the two of us, bring over a couple of comfy chairs, slide the plant a little to the right and see if I’m willing to remove the blanket from the filing cabinet, candle and thrift store item. I imagine he is patient and determined. And I imagine that this is where it gets a bit uncomfortable. We might feel a lump in our throat, tears in our eyes and do some anxious tapping on the edge of our coffee cup. The deep question begins to rise as we stare at that cabinet . . . am I loveable? as is.

It’s too much. We jump up, cover the cabinet, and try to secure that our future will be better than the past. We do things to avoid mistakes, manage people’s opinions of us, skirt around fear and minimize damage. Yet God invites us just to sit back down and breathe.

He has things to say . . .

We’re loved, we’re forgiven, we’re free. We’re not alone. God’s spirit is in us, guiding, comforting, correcting. The future is the past redeemed, re-purposed and renamed. It is not shameful, it is a story that is alive with the hope of God’s grace and truth.

Faith, I believe, is about sitting with those files, in that chair, with God, and removing the cover on our past. It is allowing him to do his best work in our lives, in his way, in his timing, freeing us from the confusing drivenness of our present and launching us forward into a hopeful future.

Just imagine what God might have in mind!

In our thirties, we had the opportunity to buy a bigger home. A house came on the market that was listed “as is”, a fixer-upper. The appliances didn’t work, there were mice, the previous owner was a heavy smoker and there were three layers of wallpaper on the walls and some kind of dark, plastic coating on the windows. We felt that perhaps we were up for the challenge and so we bought in. A bigger house, bigger mortgage, bigger yard, bigger renovations and . . . a bigger dog.

Three years later, we concluded that we were not actually that kind of family. The bigness of everything required so much time and energy and money and it put pressure on us. We didn’t like that. I continued to have health issues and most of the work fell to my husband. It just wasn’t the right fit. But it also revealed that who we were trying to be didn’t match the reality of who we actually were.

So we moved to a smaller house, a smaller mortgage, smaller yard, small and patient renovations and . . . a smaller dog. It’s been 11 years and our oldest son just moved out last month . . . it’s been a great place to live!

Recently, the thought of a ‘big table’ has been on my mind. I thought, “If we had a big table, then maybe we’d invite people over more often”. Tonight, I mentioned this and my son gently reminded me that we had a big table, which we cut down to half the size and then recently got rid of, replacing it with this even smaller table which now seats four. He reminded me that we rarely sit at this table together and that when we do have people over, most people gravitate toward the couch anyways.

I wonder why I’m tempted by the bigger things.

If I’m honest (which is what writing helps me be), I would admit that I love conversations with good friends and family but not necessarily over a dinner that I cooked. I’d rather go out to eat, or snack together with whatever we found in our fridge or cupboards in the moment. I’m happy when people drop in unexpectedly and happy to make coffee and sit for hours on the couches hearing stories and asking questions of their lives. I’m happy to visit people in their homes, bring food, help make food and pitch in. But somehow I’ve become distracted by this idea of a ‘big table’ as the thing that would help me be hospitable.

Nope . . . I don’t think so.

I think it’s about love. It’s loving whomever comes into our home. I think it’s about taking a nap if I need to, or being thankful to my husband and son who are great cooks and love to create delicious meals in the kitchen. It’s about contributing to nutrition and keeping the supplies stocked as much as possible but not necessarily doing it all myself. And it’s about letting home be home for whomever is here.

This ‘big table’ idea is perhaps just a symbol of the person I wish I could be.

David wrote in Psalm 16, “Lord, you alone are my portion and my cup; you make my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance.”

Perhaps it’s time to put away my search for the ‘big table’ and relax at this little one. Perhaps the simplicity of our home and our lives is more of a gift to me than I realize and if I stay within the boundary lines, as David puts it, it is pleasant. I like that.

Back in high school, I developed a habit that did not serve me well. If I had to study for an exam, I would go up to my room, close the door, get out my books, binders, pen and sit at my desk. But . . . my hair felt floppy, so I'd put it in a ponytail, then I'd brush it out, then back into a ponytail. Then I'd look around my room concluding that my study time would be more effective if my room was clean. So I'd tidy my room, vacuum, do some laundry, sort a drawer or two and frame a picture for my wall. I'd make a cup of tea, wishing I had a cookie to go with it, so I'd bake . . . you get the idea. 

This morning, I read from Psalm 27 and I was reminded of how this habit of procrastination sneaks into our spiritual lives. We choose other things to accomplish what our heart truly longs for. We want to be fearless, calm, collected, cool, satisfied and secure. But . . . we wash the car, buy new clothes, get a haircut, talk about our concerns with friends, create better systems of organization, book a holiday, drink more coffee than necessary, post images of ourselves on social media and check to see how many people 'liked' what we posted. We renovate, fix, update, add, delete, minimize and decorate . . . but our hearts are still weary.

We read that David didn't procrastinate, he went straight to God for his needs: 

 "Light, space, zest—that’s God! So, with him on my side I'm FEARLESS, afraid of no one and nothing. When vandal hordes ride down ready to eat me alive, Those bullies and toughs fall flat on their faces. When besieged, I’m CALM as a baby. When all hell breaks loose, I’m COLLECTED and COOL. I’m asking God for one thing, only one thing: To live WITH HIM in his house my whole life long. I’ll contemplate his beauty;  I’ll study at his feet. That’s the only QUIET, SECURE place in a noisy world, The PERFECT GETAWAY, far from the buzz of traffic." (Psalm 27:1-5)

And verse 14 . . .

"Stay with God! Take heart. Don’t quit. I’ll say it again: Stay with God."

So today . . .  take a deep breath, have courage and go directly to God for what you need. He is the perfect getaway.

One of the temptations that can arise from listening to other people's stories is to become increasingly dissatisfied with our own. We drive home from church on Sunday wondering why our afternoon plans are to fix the fence rather than feed the hungry - as the missionary shared about that morning. We heat up leftover lasagna aware that we could have made a double batch to share with someone else, or question why we didn't invite someone over for lunch. Suddenly, we want another life, a restart or a drastic and spastic change to occur so that we can tell a different story. Shame creeps in, blame creeps in and the cold hiss of a serpent's presence feels close at hand. 

This is what Satan does best. He's a deceiver. He doesn't tell you what he's up to, he just hints that maybe someone else is holier than you are. He convinces you that instead of fixing the fence that has been broken for a year, you should volunteer at a homeless shelter. There, he suggests, don't you feel better? He tries to get you to like his approval and your own approval more than God's. He might even suggest that God's voice is too hard to hear, that God is silent or slow - so it's better to take matters into your own hand. He has a way of twisting God's words into something similar but completely in the wrong direction. 

We need to learn to stay in our own story.

Augustine said, "You have made us for yourself, Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you." Nothing–not an inspiring testimony, or a week-long list of 'do-gooder' tasks will ease the ache within our souls . . . only God. We must stay within our own story and look to Him.  It is from this posture that we must look to God for his direction for our lives.

And here's what happens when we do . . .

"But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely." Galatians 5:22-23

We have the freedom to fix a fence, take a nap, heat up lunch for our family or ourselves. We can pray for the missionaries who are feeding the hungry and we can prayerfully ask the Lord to show us how to live with compassion. But we can stay within our own story and be about the things that make us who we are. Our calendars, our schedules and our to-do lists are not a hinderance to God's Spirit working in our lives. He will speak, He will guide, He will lead us . . . we only need to pay attention to Him. That's all. 

So today, let's resist the temptation to think that God is more alive in someone else's story and instead turn to Him in anticipation for what He will do in ours.

Today, July 31st, one month before the start of September, I have a reminder that pops up automatically on my calendar. 

It says "Slow, Schedule, September".

I like change, excitement and new things! So, when September rolls around with fresh new opportunities, it calls to me and invites me to exhaust and over-extend myself!

So, for the past five years, I've been taking a few weeks in early to mid August to pray and listen to God's voice and pre-plan priorities for September before it arrives. It's been fantastic and since my reminder popped up this morning, I thought I'd share my process with you in case you find it helpful.

Here's what I do:

1. Prayerfully, evaluate my personal responsibilities and schedule them in, common sense, ordinary stuff, (doctor's appointments, etc).

2. Prayerfully, reflect on what stage of life it is and leave room for what is important. (Our sons are young adults now and don't require much assistance but they are in the process of moving out, starting businesses, navigating relationships and adult-life-stresses, so they do want to talk about things occasionally. We leave room in our lives to take that time when it comes.)

3. Prayerfully, identify the general direction that God is leading me in. (If I look back in my journalling, or talk to a good friend who has heard my struggles and joys in the past year, there probably is a recognizable compass turning toward something . . . something that God has been leading me in. Not my own spontaneous ambition, but a deeper, gutsy sense of God's calling me toward something.) So for instance, I started helping with the senior's ministry at our church and have come to LOVE it in such a way that it has surprised me. I've sensed God's green light in this and will continue. Other ideas that I've had have been interesting but will sap the energy from me. So, in this step, I take my best guess as to what God is saying yes to and what He is asking me to let go of. 

4. Prayerfully, fill up the calendar. This is where I actually schedule in my priorities for the first few months of Autumn. (If helping with a seniors event is on Thursday, then Wednesday and Fridays are 'booked' for prep and rest. This enables me to pick up supplies, prepare, and then take everything down, submit receipts etc...and then rest.) For me, it's about honouring what God calls me to be about and taking it seriously, rather than just jamming it in amongst other things. So my calendar has things scheduled on it with these types of labels: home day, coffee shop writing, solitude/yard work, finances, meetings, food prep, coffee with friend, date with Randy, thrift store wander, problem solving stuck areas, reading, listening to podcasts, neighbour coffee etc. 

Here's the really great part . . . once these things are scheduled in and September and October are officially booked, then when you are faced with requests for help with a community project or church volunteer opportunity or "Fall-Kick-Offs" for various programs where new ideas are presented, you can make decisions based on and around the items that are ALREADY booked into your calendar. 

I recently spoke at a ladies luncheon and was able to visit with some of the ladies afterwards. Many were exhausted and overwhelmed with life and responsibilities. They felt the pressure of trying to care for many people and tasks with very little resources coming back in to replenish their strength. I came home with a sense of admiration for them that they were in fact really trying to be helpful to God and to others. But the worn-out reality was real. 

Slowing down is, in a way, like fasting, like a spiritual discipline. We choose to feast on God's Word, on the nourishment He wants to give us. We are sustained by "every word that proceeds from the mouth of God." Matthew 4:4. We also choose to restrain ourselves from satisfying our every appetite for satisfaction, fulfillment, significance, importance . . . to allow God to establish what He thinks is important for us.  4th Century Asterius wrote, "fasting ensured that the stomach would not make the body boil like a kettle to the hindering of the soul."

Let's take care of our souls, slow down, listen to God and take action to plan our lives with intentionality. Let's be people who's thirst is quenched by God, so that when others relate with us, spend time with us, they see, hear, sense refreshment and rest. What a 'testimony' to who God is in our lives - that He cares to satisfy our deepest needs first, in our souls. Imagine that being 'rested' is one way of reflecting who God is to an exhausted, broken world. 

I serve on the board of our church and at the end of every meeting we ask ourselves a series of questions . . .

One of the questions is "Did the church move forward as a result of this meeting?"

I love that question!

If we answered yes, then it meant we stayed focused on priorities and if we answered no, it means we got sidetracked somewhere in the nitty-gritty that was either about the past or something not beneficial.

I've been thinking about that a lot lately.

Today marks the 4th week of dental issues for me. It started with a tiny moment while flossing my back molar where the cracked tooth that has been cracked for a long time started to lift up as I flossed. Hmm, I thought,  probably should get that checked out. It turned into the need for two teeth to get crowns put on . . . which turned into an infection a few days later . . . which landed on the Canada Day long weekend when all dentists and medi-centers and doctors were closed and the pain was excruciating! When I finally got in and was put on antibiotics and pain killers, I was able to recover and then three more dentist appointments, refills on drugs and a root canal - first part done and second part still to come.  All that to say, my mind has been occupied with pain and the relief of pain. 

I asked myself today, "What have I done?" I mean, what have I done with all that time? (Please know that I am completely kind to myself to understand that coping takes energy and I believe it's okay to cope–absolutely). But in light of the fact that it has been four weeks and thinking about that question that we ask ourselves as a board, I want to ask myself a similar question for my personal life. 

Two weeks from now, just a few days after part-two of root canal is completed, I'm scheduled to speak at a conference luncheon for about 200 women. The topic is on how we are shaped by God. I'll be telling my own story of living with chronic pain of Endometriosis and the past 24 years of pain. Funny isn't it?

I know THAT story really well. I can tell all the highlights, the lessons I've learned and the ways that God has renewed my mind and given me a new perspective on life. I've told that story many times.

But that story is worth nothing, if right now, at 12:15am, as I write this, and as I wait for the pain killers to start working, with an ice pack beside me that I occasionally hold up to my face . . . if I am not trusting Jesus with THIS pain, then my other story is worthless. 

Right now, in this moment, Jesus asks me to trust him.

He holds my face with his hands and looks me in the eyes and asks, "Heather, do you trust me? Do you trust that these past four weeks of cancelled plans and hours with your mouth open in the dentist's office and waiting in pharmacies and getting up at night to replenish your cold packs is still within my plans for you? Do you trust that I'm doing something? Will you trust me if the purpose is never revealed?" 

Having lived with chronic pain for most of my life, I've 'matured' in my understanding of what pain relief means. I've gained endurance and patience and some skills to live with pain . . . but all that was tested in a fresh way these past weeks and I found myself just wanting it all to be finished, fixed and done. 

So I find it FASCINATING that today, I got a refill on my pain meds and am instructed to finish my antibiotics for a few more weeks until my root canal (part two) is done and then . . . a few days later, will stand on a stage with a podium and microphone and talk about God's love in the midst of pain. This event was booked almost a full year ago and yet, here we are. 

This is not an interruption. These have not been wasted weeks. I may not have always been paying attention, but Jesus has been with me, day and night, speaking words of love to me . . . if I was listening. And so, I listen now, with a quieted heart, that what He is preparing to do through my life is something that I can't even comprehend. It is God's action, His initiative, and His love that He wants to share with the world and these particular 200 women through my particular swollen and aching mouth. 

I'm intrigued and curious at the timing of it all. 

"Joy is in the overflow. Our world, our lives stay relatively happy and affluent by making its container bigger when it is just about to overflow, so the joy of overflowing is taken away. But if we make our vessel smaller and smaller, by reducing our needs, our wants, our expectations, then the overflowing joy will come sooner and sooner. " - Adapted from Sister Stan, Gardening the Soul

Suffering, illness, pain and loss are the ways that our container, as the quote refers to, becomes smaller.  As a chronic pain person, I love that joy doesn't have to disappear . . . but that it comes in different forms. 

One of the biggest concerns that I hear from people who suffer is that they experience loss. They used to be able to do things and now they can't. They used to have many choices and now they only have a few. They used to have plans and dreams and now, they feel stuck by their circumstances and feel like they've lost time and opportunity. These are real losses . . . and need to be acknowledged and grieved. They are real. I too have had these losses and still face them today.

But there is also such great hope! And that's what I love about this quote. The more simple we make our lives, the more opportunity we have to be surprised by joy.  The less we have, the more we notice. 

I remember when my Grandma moved into a seniors residence. She loved the small things. She loved being able to see the sunset. She loved the tea and cookie times down the hall where she could visit with others.

One day when I was visiting her, she asked me if she could go shopping with me and pick up a few things. She really wanted a broom so she could sweep her kitchen. We went to Superstore and got everything on her small list. It was fun and she was SO grateful to be able to pick up a few things for her new place that helped it feel more like home. It was smaller than where she lived before and she was without her husband now, but she found a way to make it cozy and make it her own. What a beautiful example of living well with less. 

Simplicity is not necessarily about living with less stuff (although that helps!), but its about less options, less choices, less decision making. I read an article recently about 'decision fatigue' and how unless you choose to limit your choices, you'll burn out just trying to make a decision. 

Pain and illness have a natural way of limiting options. Sometimes, I think that I am fortunate that way. When pain increases, I simplify my schedule. I cancel plans because I have to. When pain lifts, I can do more and I'm very grateful. I think of it as muscle building. Each time I cancel plans because of pain, I build muscles. Each time, I'm able to reengage with my schedule and pour energy into something, I build muscles. And each time I hope to be able to do something, and can't and have to let it go . . . I build muscles.  They are 'letting-go' muscles and they get stronger each time! 

Consider simplifying your life, letting go of something in order for joy to increase. Do you have big plans, hopes, expectations for the upcoming summer? Plans to renovate your backyard, plant a garden, take a trip or a big family vacation? They're all good ideas - nothing wrong with them. But take a moment to consider if you could be content with something less, something more simple, something smaller. If you can, then perhaps your container would be smaller and joy would overflow . . . sooner. It's worth considering. If the thought of less makes you cringe, then perhaps its a good opportunity to build those muscles! 

Paul, had these muscles! Check out his words,

"Actually, I don’t have a sense of needing anything personally. I’ve learned by now to be quite content whatever my circumstances. I’m just as happy with little as with much, with much as with little. I’ve found the recipe for being happy whether full or hungry, hands full or hands empty. Whatever I have, wherever I am, I can make it through anything in the One who makes me who I am." Philippians 4:13

There is a temptation to "be there" for people. Especially if you are sensitive to pick up the emotional temperature of those around you, you may feel that you need to be available to them or be there for them. There is nothing wrong with this idea unless it deprives you and them of getting what they really need from the only One who can truly meet their need.

I read something about this recently in a book by Ruth Haley Barton, Strengthening the Soul of Your Leadership - Seeking God in the Crucible of Ministry. She described Moses as having an identity crisis - so to speak. He was a Hebrew raised by a Egyptian Princess in a palace. He felt he belonged in neither place. Moses lived with this lack of identity and whatever anger that went with it so that when he saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, he killed the Egyptian. Just like that. All that rage, all that sense of injustice came rising to the surface and he murdered the guy.  

Pharoah wanted to kill Moses for this crime and so Moses fled to Midian and, well, he just sat down by a well. Ruth Barton takes time to pause at this point in her book and just sit with Moses for awhile. Moses didn't just get up and start leading the Hebrews out of Egypt into the promised land. Much time passed between this well-sitting moment and that actual get-up-and-go day. Moses got married, had kids, became a shepherd and worked for his father in law. This was a quiet, slow and very ordinary season of life. 

Ruth defines this time for Moses was about solitude.

"But one day, after he had been in the wilderness long enough for solitude to do its good work he was able to claim his greatest pain and brokenness. It is doubtful that Moses knew exactly what was going on in that wilderness place. Most of us don't when we first begin entering in. But solitude does its work whether we have any cognitive understanding of it or not. Just as the physical law of gravity ensures that sediment swirling in a jar of muddy river water will eventually settle and the water will become clear, so the spiritual law of gravity ensures that the chaos of the human soul will settle if it sits still long enough." (p. 47)

It was after this time, that God called him to save the Hebrews from the oppressive slavery of the Egyptians. His purpose was identified and his identity was affirmed. Moses knew who he was and what God was asking him to do. It was clear. The sediment settled, the water was clear.

Do we allow people to sit by their own wells? Do we give them room to think, to do nothing, to live an ordinary life, doing ordinary things and letting time pass by? It sounds wrong doesn't it. 

Maybe one of the reasons we are afraid to leave others by their own well is because we are afraid to sit by ours. 

One of the chapters in my book, Pray Any Way, is about solitude. The image that my husband drew for it is perfect, in my opinion, because it is just about being alone - fishing! We don't need to force solitude to be something 'spiritual' with our Bible open and music playing and hours of journaling. No. The title of the chapter is "Try Some Solitude". That's all, try it! 

If you have people in your life that you're worried about and you constantly check your phone for messages and kinda hang around in case they need you . . . it might be time to take a walk by the river. Throw some rocks, watch the ducks, smell the air and listen to the silence. That's the sound of the sediment settling. Let it. Sit by your own well for awhile.

Solitude shaped Moses. It can shape us too. 

PODCAST: How does God shape us as we surrender what's in our tightly gripped hand?

I recently pursued a few different employment ideas that were intriguing but nothing came of them. I thought my sockart business might get busier . . . but it has actually slowed down. A few projects that I had the opportunity to be involved in changed and went on without me. 

I've learned (slowly and cumulatively) that when I keep hitting roadblocks it is best to stop and reassess. So, I've been reading . . . and I've been pondering how rest shapes us. We know that pain and suffering shapes us, that brokenness and yielding to the holy sovereignty of God shapes us, but what about rest?

Before clay is put into a kiln, it must be dry. But not just dry as in the absence of water, it must be dry in equal parts. The thin and thick parts of a clay sculpture or bowl must be dried strategically so that they are even and won't crack when put into the high temperature of the kiln. Some potters spray water or cover one part of the pot until the other part has caught up to it in dryness. This stage is called "resting". If it is done well and properly, then the clay will be all one temperature, one dryness or "bone dry" as it's called, and ready for the kiln. If this stage is rushed in any way, the pottery will crack and be useless.

Rest shapes us. It shapes us by the absence of something, allowing us to change from one form into another. We feel the change and don't like it. Something is dying, leaving, slipping away. It used to be important, crucial in fact, but now it is not. As it leaves, we are being formed into something stronger.

This leaves me to simply ask us, what is God removing from our lives in order to make us stronger, more beautiful and more able to be used for His purposes and glory? If we can rest, if we can hold still and be patient, the best work will be accomplished. If you're in a season of resting, don't rush it! 

"Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go; he’s the one who will keep you on track. Don’t assume that you know it all. Run to God! Run from evil! Your body will glow with health, your very bones will vibrate with life! Honor God with everything you own; give him the first and the best. Your barns will burst, your wine vats will brim over. But don’t, dear friend, resent God’s discipline; don’t sulk under his loving correction. It’s the child he loves that God corrects; a father’s delight is behind all this." Proverbs 3:5-12

I'm preparing for a speaking engagement this summer. The topic is "Shaped".  There will be a live pottery demonstration happening as well as pieces of pottery on each table. But as I read the various Scriptures about the concept of the Potter (God) and the clay (us), I'm beginning to see what an unpleasant message this is. 

For instance, this is what Jeremiah writes, "So I went down to the potter’s house and saw him working with clay at the wheel. He was making a pot from clay. But there was something wrong with the pot. So the potter used that clay to make another pot. With his hands he shaped the pot the way he wanted it to be." (Jeremiah 18:3-4)

Hmm, we say, isn't that nice. How lovely to be shaped into something else. But is it? Are we generally open to not getting our own way?

Or how about this one. Isaiah, after a long chapter about how sinful and rebellious we are as people, he writes, "Still, God, you are our Father. We’re the clay and you’re our potter: All of us are what you made us." Isaiah 64:8

Really?  When I look in the mirror at the end of the day, do I really say, "I am what you made me to be . . . you're the potter, I'm the clay, you're the boss, whatever you say goes!"

I don't think so. 

If I'm honest, I'm more likely to look in the mirror at the end of the day and reflect on a self-managed person who either knocked the ball out of the park or could do things better tomorrow.

For me, it takes daily discipline of attentiveness to God and His activity in my life in order for me to be aware that God is actually in charge. And in those sweet moments when I see it, and my heart is soft and I'm yielded to His ways, I feel great relief and security and some loss - as I give up my own ways. But in those moments, it's a good loss.

As I think of preparing this talk, I imagine the women who will be at the event and guess that many of them, myself included, have heard a message on this topic before. The challenge is to let God's Word speak clearly without sanitizing it or making more palatable. And the other challenge is that if we've all heard this message before, then we might respond,"Oh, yes, this message. I know the moral to this story: be broken, be yielded, surrender to God. Yes, this is a good one!" And we take another sip of coffee, one more bite to finish off the cheesecake and continue listening . . . thinking, "this IS a nice luncheon". 

So I want to get to the core of what it means to be yielded to God. What does it look like? Sound like? Smell like? Taste like? If I came to your house for tea and visited with you, heard your stories, watched you interact with your spouse or roommate or kids or in-laws . . . would "yielded to God" be the theme that I experienced? If you bumped into me at the grocery store and my favourite type of salad dressing was out of stock, would you hear a yielded spirit in my words? When our church makes changes that we're not used to,  when we're not acknowledged for our hard work, when someone we love leaves us, rejects us, hurts us .  .  .  can we yield our response to the response God wants us to have?

One expression our son brought into our home was "tupper-awareness". It's the ability to choose the right tupperware to match the amount of left-overs you wish to put into the fridge. (Brilliant, I think!)

How about yield-awareness? (It's not as clever, I know.) But what if we became more aware of our willingness (or unwillingness) to yield to God's will.  When a situation arises that goes against what we thought was a good idea . . . can we have yield-awareness and ask ourselves, "Am I willing to yield?" Our answers may not always be yes, but they will be honest, at least, and since God already knows the state of our heart, its a step in the right direction!

Mark Buchanan wrote a book called "Your God is too Safe". It is one of my favourites and since my arm has been giving me trouble recently, I took a break from painting the living room and curled up with this book for the evening. The words that made me sit up straight, grab a pen, underline like crazy and fold the edge of the page over so I could clearly find it later was this:

"Brokenness—a broken heart, a broken spirit—molds our character closer to the character of God than anything else. To experience defeat, disappointment, loss—the raw ingredients of brokenness—moves us closer to being like God than victory and gain and fulfillment ever can."

My energy has been up lately. I'm very thankful. I'm probably at about three weeks now of feeling good and able to handle more than usual (which explains the living room painting project). I've only napped a few times and my brain feels fresh and clear. I'm able to handle more stress, more conversations, more activities with less recovery time needed. Nothing has changed regarding my medication or anything. I just feel better and I'm not sure why. In the past 24 years of living with Endometriosis, thyroid, arthritis and various other things, my longest stretch of trouble free, pain-free, nothing new happening has only been a few months. So, as you can imagine, I feel a bit suspicious AND I feel hope! What if this is my new normal? What if I can do more in one day on a regular basis? What if? What if? What if?

This book however, reminded me of the other question . . . what for?

The sweetest times in my life so far have been the times of my deepest suffering. (Not the actual pain itself, no, that would just be weird.) But the closeness of Jesus, the unconditional love and grace He gives, the sense of being stamped and approved just as I am, broken, weak, unable to "do" anything for Him, and yet still so deeply loved and cared for. The sorting out of things that God did during those times, helping me see what was really important, clarity of focus, helping me discard what was unnecessarily weighing me down, and the freedom—to love and be loved by God and others. Suffering brought me to ask the deeper questions: What's my purpose? Can I be content without knowing why I have pain? Is God trustworthy? What does it mean to follow Him, be a Christian? What really matters? When you only have so much energy, it's crucial to know where it should go. 

Brokenness must be something we stay close to. We must not fear it in others or in ourselves. We must not sanitize our lives of it in order to feel better. Loss, disappointment, pain and frustration  must be part of our language and the landscape that we walk on. If, we choose to only relate to others and speak in terms of winning, pleasing ourselves, ease and contentment and safety, we miss out on being shaped by God into his likeness! 

This makes me both uncomfortable and relieved.

Uncomfortable, because I know that with renewed energy and less pain, I'm tempted to want to avoid pain, my own and others and the world's. And relieved, because I know that the fulfilment and purpose that God gives is deeper, better and more satisfying than cheap ease. I've experienced it, I've tasted it and it's true.

So, what then? I think, I'll count it a little reminder-gift from God that my arm was sore from painting and I "had" to read for awhile. I'll take it as a nudge to enjoy my new found freedom but not lose sight of what really matters. To surrender my energy and time and health (or sickness and pain) to Him for His glory and purposes. (Thank you, Lord.) 

"The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit. You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God." Psalm 51:17 (NLT)

Tomorrow, we have a cleaning lady coming to our home. I've been unable to keep up with the deeper, heavy cleaning of the house so we decided to hire it out. It's not a big deal, at least it shouldn't be . . . but I must admit, it feels like one.

Living with a chronic illness means experiencing many losses. Before I was diagnosed, I would have defined myself as strong and useful! I took pride in that. (There's the problem! :)) But for the past 24 years, getting out of bed in the morning takes time, inflammation in my joints need oiling up before I can head out for the day, and pain and energy is a daily challenge. I need naps, medications, doctor appointments, low stress, low commitments, heating pads and rest. So, admitting that I need help with one more task is humbling. There have been so many other things that I have already had to let go of.

"But aren't you relieved?" you might ask? Yes, I am. I will be. But today, I feel the tension of letting go again, and it hurts a bit. 

Yesterday I wrote about this in my journal, telling God my honest thoughts that I felt embarrassed about needing so much help. I flipped through my Bible looking for some insight and found this in 2 Corinthians 6 . . . 

Okay, so what does that look like? It means that when she comes tomorrow, I simply thank her for being here, show her around and then get out of the way. It means, I don't "justify" or "explain" why I can't clean my own house. I simply work on other things and let her do her job. It means restraint, self-discipline, and a decision to make myself a cup of coffee and relax in another room. It means being open to who this lady is, what God might have in mind for our working-relationship, and what God might have in mind for her and for me! It means opening up my mind and heart to this new experience, and embracing it for all the known and unknown reasons.

Perhaps this open and expansive life that Paul talks about in Corinthians is about becoming familiar with letting go, not afraid of it. Familiar, like song lyrics that come back easily when you hear the music. I'd like that. 

Last week I spoke at a mission's conference evening for young adults. A really neat experience. (I did a podcast about it, you can listen to it here if you like: #21 God's Workmanship). I used different coloured sticky notes to illustrate each disease that I have, symptoms, treatments and management tools I use to handle it all. The main point that I was trying to teach was that all of this mattered to God, that this was part of His workmanship in me, and part of His plan for showing His love to our world. The last sticky note I put on said, "Time".

I did the session three times that evening, as different groups rotated through, and by the end of the night, something new had privately gripped my own heart: TIME is for me, the expensive perfume I've been reading about in John chapter 12. 

Here's the scene: It's one week before the Jewish celebration of Passover. Jesus gets invited to have dinner at his friends' house. Lazarus, Mary, Martha and the disciples are there. Mary, a devoted friend and follower of Jesus, whom Jesus had just brought back her own brother from the dead only a short time before, knelt down before Jesus and washed his feet with an expensive perfume. Judas, the disciple, treasurer and soon-to-be-betrayer of Jesus, had a problem with this. Imagine his face starting to frown, probably rolling his eyes, shaking his head and waving his hand in front of his nose as if the smell of the perfume stunk! Judas asks, "Why wasn't this perfume sold and the money given to the poor?" What a waste - he was probably thinking.

Here's how Jesus responds . . . “Let her alone. She’s anticipating and honouring the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you. You don’t always have me” (verse 7-8). We read this and nod like, "Hmm, yes, good point . . .". But here's the thing, it's actually a really bizarre response.  He 'appears' to not care about the poor and to have a strange sense of budgeting priorities.  He is basically saying (my paraphrase), "Judas, you're wrong. You're not seeing correctly. This adoration and worship of me is appropriate, I accept it because I am worthy of it, because I am God-up-close and soon I will be gone, so the timing of this is perfect. It's costly for her to do this. Don't judge her!" 

In my past 24 years of chronic illness and pain, I have spent SO MUCH TIME being still, resting, taking care of myself, my own exhaustion, doctor's appointments and treatments. I've been similar to Judas in asking, "God, isn't this a waste? All this time in doctor's offices, pharmacies, sorting out my vitamins, napping, . . . Couldn't this time be better used somewhere else? Helping the poor? Feeding the hungry?"

God's response to me has been extravagant and similar to what He said to Mary. He has reminded me that time poured out with Him is worthwhile and appropriate. He's shown me that He is well aware of the needs around me but that sometimes, how he does things doesn't make logical sense, doesn't please people, and doesn't seem practical. My time, poured out to Him, as a priority is right and good. Others may judge, (I may even judge myself), but God doesn't. He is worthy of my time, my "perfume", my costly gift to Him. 

So, even though my talk at the young adult evening was meant to encourage them, I came home with a fresh awareness of my Judas-mentality about TIME, and God's invitation for me to pour it out . . . extravagantly . . . and receive God's love and his defense of my actions! That feels pretty good for someone who is prone to self-inflicted guilt! :) So today, while I am recovering from a twisted ankle (just a random accident) and on my bed AGAIN, and time seems to be AGAIN wasted by just sitting here . . . I am reminded to pour out my time, spend it extravagantly in worship of God, reading, writing, praying, doing creative and playful things in the freedom and non-judging-grace of God. 

Is there something costly that God is asking you to pour out to Him? Could it be that knowing God's defense of your love, your actions could free you to do so?

It took four days. I read John Chapter 11 four days in a row before I saw something and my spirit was soft enough to receive it. The first few days I was reading it out of discipline, "stay in the game" I thought!  I was skeptical this week though.  I mean, I've read this story so many times, I know how it finishes, what new thing could I possibly learn? 

Tonight, as I write this, I realize four days was ALSO the time it took before Jesus did the miracle in this story. Thousands of years later, it takes me four days to settle down enough to let this miracle land in my life and now that I am sitting here with my laptop and grabbing my Bible to double check the timing . . . FOUR days is the timing in this story!  (Coincidence? Nope. I think maybe God smiled waiting for me to figure this timing out!) 

Here's the story as John tells it.

Jesus has three friends who are siblings to each other: Mary, Martha and Lazarus. Jesus finds out that Lazarus has become really sick in a nearby town but Jesus doesn't rush to go. He stays a few more days where he is with his disciples and then decides to go see his sick friend. He gives a small hint about how this experience will be to glorify God and that there's nothing to worry about. His disciples question him about the safety of the trip etc. and Jesus tells them that Lazarus has actually died and he's going to wake him up! 

So, Jesus and his disciples take a road trip to the city of Bethany where Lazarus was. By the time he got there, Lazarus had been dead for FOUR days! The sisters and friends and family were grieving and Martha came out of the house to confront Jesus. She said that if he had been there sooner, Lazarus would have not died! She challenged Jesus to do something. She believed in him. Jesus replied that yes, Lazarus would live again. Martha replied with what seemed like a "Ya, ya, I know . . . " that she knew "someday" Lazarus would be resurrected with all believers at the end of time.

But then Jesus spoke this next sentence and it stopped me in my reading.  He said, "You don't have to wait for the end. I am, right NOW, Resurrection and Life." 

The rest of the chapter is amazing so go ahead and read it here . . . if you want. But I'm going to stay on this point for a moment. What does it mean that Jesus is, right now, Resurrection and Life, offered to us as in the present as a description of his identity? What is dead around me, in circumstances, in relationships, in hopeless, despairing situations that desperately need life breathed into it? Jesus is, right now, Resurrection and Life!

It's amazing. It's crazy! It's hopeful.

I live with chronic illness and pain. Jesus hasn't healed it. But he is, right now, Resurrection and Life to me! He gives me comfort in MRI machines as they whir and thump around my head. He is my company when I am curled up in pain and unable to get to my to-do list. He, somehow, breathes life and encouragement through my brokenness to others! He resurrects others from their deadness, their brokenness and I get to participate in those moments because Jesus is, right now, Resurrection and Life to me and to them! He resurrects my dignity, my worth, my value! He gives life to simple actions so they have profound effects. 

It's amazing. It's crazy! It's hopeful. 

I'm prayerful tonight for you, my friends, that you will, as I did this week, have a fresh realization of Jesus' offer of himself, right now, as resurrection and life to you and all the complex and uncertain and stressful and interesting realities of your lives. Rest in Him! There is hope, my friends, real hope because of who Jesus is!

You've heard of "helicopter parenting"?  I think the expression works for much more . . .

I've never been in a helicopter but my husband has so I asked him to describe it for me. He said timing is essential. It's expensive to run so once it is loaded up it takes off quickly to its destination and then lands again. Sometimes it doesn't even shut off the blades so you have to duck and grab your stuff and move fast so it can take off again. So, ideally, in a rescue situation, if a chopper is called in, then you can be assured that help is coming quickly.

In relationships, we often think we own a helicopter and it is our responsibility to rescue. But rescue missions are called only when the person doesn't have the capability to take care of themselves. They are stranded on a mountain and need only what a helicopter can offer them. If we see other people's struggles  as 'rescue missions', then we are thinking too highly of ourselves and too little of them. 

* Disclaimer: There are times when immediate action and intervention is VERY necessary. That's not what this blog is about.  I'm thinking more about the fully functioning adult who is going through something difficult and says that they are okay  . . . but we can't let it go. We brainstorm, wonder, worry and chew on past conversations to see if we have done enough, if there is anything else we can do. We research, gather intel, check social media, look for clues  . . . THAT'S  the sound of the helicopter . . . 

So I've been wondering how to stop the "rescue reaction" when someone shares a struggle with me. I don't actually jump into the metaphorical helicopter anymore. I've learned to stay on the ground, be present, and let someone talk. I'm learning to sit with them in the struggle, if possible, and be patient as they express their pain. It's a holy moment of trust and I want to honor it. I'm learning to listen for the voice of God in those moments and  how He wants me to respond, taking my best guess as to what that is. 

But for me, it's later, when things are quiet and I'm folding laundry or doing dishes that I start to consider the helicopter.  It's the mind wandering, brainstorming "what else can I do?" thought-trail that left unchecked, will lead me to go get my keys.  This week, I came to a conclusion: sell the thing! If there is no helicopter, then there is nothing for me to do in those quiet moments. Instead, I can pray. I can lift their name up to the Lord, who has a better view on the whole thing anyway and I can ask Him to take care of the details,  give people courage to ask for what they need and discernment for me to know whether their needs match what I can give. There are professionals who can give way better help and resources than I can. There are other people whom God will use in that person's life to bring comfort and encouragement and there is the difficult reality that sometimes God doesn't rescue. He let's us sit in our pain for awhile, for a reason, that we may never understand. But if we are always rescuing . . . we'll get in the way of what God might be up to. 

So here's the freedom part: If we sell the helicopter, plant some flowers and put a bench where it used to leave from. If we learn to sit on that bench, in those moments and rest in the all-seeing, all-knowing, all-wise, all-loving, all-good nature of God, when there is an action for us to take, we will be ready. We will be rested and calm with a sense that God himself is in control. Our minds will be clear, we will be able to focus and whatever it is that God asks us to do, will be the right fit. 

Imagine being that kind of parent . . . Imagine being that kind of friend . . . 

“Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, and don’t get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow. God will help you deal with whatever hard things come up when the time comes." Matthew 6:34   (or read the whole chapter here - it's so good!)

Have a great September!

I'm happy to say that I've moved into the "medium fast" lane at the pool. :) I started swimming in March of this year, on more of a consistent basis, and decided to stay in the slow lane for awhile knowing my tendency to over-do it at first. (You can read that blog called "Restrainable Sustainable".) So yesterday, when I ceremoniously walked past the slow lane and dipped my foot down into the medium lane, there was a great sense of accomplishment. I smiled to myself. Thankfully, there was no one else in the lane so I didn't have to wrestle with the social pressure of trying not to elbow the other guy on my way past. 

Medium is an interesting place to be. It claims that I'm not at the beginning, nor am I at the end. Most of our lives take place in a medium place, a middle place, a growth place. And either we're transitioning from the beginning or we are approaching the end.

I read a book this past week by Susan S. Philips, "The Cultivated Life" that talked about different spiritual disciplines. She mentioned a story of someone who added a discipline to his life by choosing to meditate on two thoughts every day, death and today-seizing the day. He thought about the end and he focused on today. He was living life in the middle lane. He looked at where he was and where he wanted to be. There is something really steady and attractive about someone who makes peace with living in the tension of that middle place. 

I read an interview about Eugene Peterson and how he decided that he was done writing books. He is getting older and wants to focus on finishing well and has some other ideas. He is choosing where his energy goes. I so admire him. Recognizing our reality and living within it takes courage. 

So what does medium fast mean for me?

Well, in swimming, it means that I have a responsibility to keep moving. It's a privilege to occupy a lane that moves faster than the slow one.  (I mean, maybe it's not that big of a deal . . . but it's how I see it.) It also means progress. If I started swimming in March and it's now, August, that means that in January, I might just be in the fast lane! That's a pretty cool thought. It means I need to keep increasing my skills, learning new things, trying and failing, swallowing water as I breathe every third, or is it fourth? stroke.

And what does medium fast mean for me, in my life?

Well, it means that next week I turn 47 years old. It means that our family life is shifting toward being four adults (and a dog) in the house and learning to share space and respect each other's independence. It means that the future Randy and I are building together gets to continue to bond, to strengthen, to increase in creativity, fun and adventure. It means that ideas for Randy's art career and my varied-collection-of-skills-and-talents-and-gifts get to stretch out and breathe . . . with a new freedom and new space to explore.

It's being attentive to the present, refusing to over-analyze the past, and being open to what the future has. It's realizing that there has been some progress but it's not time to float. I need to use the muscles I have to build stronger ones. To live without fear, to love deeply, to respect others, to trust God by REALLY turning my attention away from worry and back into the present reality and what God is calling me to be about. It means facing challenges and accepting them as appropriate medium lane challenges. Not resisting, not fearing, not wishing for easier . . . but standing up, in faith, in the strength that God gives and saying, "Bring it on, medium lane, toughen me up, make me strong, prepare me for the future! " 

Praying today for you . . . for courage, for strength and endurance!

Randy and I had only been married a few years and I was going in for my fourth surgery for Endometriosis. The surgery time was booked for the morning. They were going to remove some cysts and rearrange some organs, remove adhesions and determine whether or not we'd be able to have children and what the next course of action would be based on how bad the disease was.

So, we decided to go on a "date". I wasn't allowed to eat or drink so we drove to the parliament grounds and parked as close as possible so I wouldn't have to walk very far. I was still in lots of pain but knew that my recovery time after surgery would require me to be in bed for awhile, so this was our last chance to get out together.

We sat on a bench like this one in the photo and watched birds and squirrels and people. I felt old. I was 24,  but I felt much older.

Randy put his arm around me and I cried a little . . . "I'm sorry I'm so lame!" I said to him. He reassured me, told me he loved me and cracked a joke about something that I don't remember (I wish I did) but it made my grovelling stop. We watched other couples our same age throw frisbees and run through the park together.

I remember feeling grateful for who Randy was, how fortunate I was that he loved me in sickness and health . . . even though our one year of marriage was the only one that would land in the health category as I was diagnosed with a "chronic" illness that would extend in some form or another throughout the rest of our marriage. 

But I remember another feeling too. It was relief. The depth of love was real and we were only a few years into the marriage. The enema boxes that Randy had to go purchase for me from the drug store to help me prep for surgeries and the heating pad that he graciously delivered, plugged in by my bedside with a few pain killer pills and a glass of water upon my many requests . . . was not the first few years of marriage that I imagined, but it was love - real love! The pressure was off. We could be real, honest, vulnerable and learn to trust each other, because we had to.

We just celebrated our 25th anniversary a few months ago! I am so grateful for him. 

So, yes, I wish I had a photo of us on that bench. But the memory is pretty awesome too. I hope we keep finding times to sit on benches and face reality together, maybe with tears and jokes in the perfect balance. 

In John chapter 9, Jesus and his disciples were walking down the street, it says, when they saw a blind man sitting on the ground, begging for money. So they asked Jesus a question.

When I imagine this scene, I imagine one of the disciples grabbing Jesus' arm, stopping him in the middle of the street, out of listening distance from the blind man and and pointing in his direction. I imagine their question was a whisper. After all, they were just trying to understand, get more information, learn, find the formula . . . that was what following Jesus was about, wasn't it? They probably assumed that Jesus would answer their question simply, they would all nod and say "Ah, yes, right, hmm" and keep walking by having been good students, good disciples. 

So they asked Jesus, "Who sinned: this man or his parents, causing him to be born blind?" Jesus simply answered them by saying "You're asking the wrong question" and as he continued to explain, he walked over to the blind man, spit in the dust, made a clay paste and rubbed it right on the man's eyes. He instructed the man to go wash in the Pool of Siloam. The man did, and his sight was restored!

The rest of the chapter is amazing (you can read the rest here) But these first verses are the ones that have stayed with me. 

The whispering, pointing, analyzing and "figuring out a theory about someone" is what the disciples were doing. They were trying to understand. But they stood at a distance. They stood away from the person in need. They stood as judges, determining fault, examining evidence and questioning motive. They were trying to become educated, or justified at the expense of leaving the now judged man in his present state. Jesus walked toward the man, squatted down in front of him, touched him, basically putting his spit on the man's face. How much closer could one get than that? 

I love this about Jesus. He is literally "in your face" with how close he gets. And he does this over and over with people. The woman at the well wanted to discuss theological issues and Jesus instead looked her in the eyes and asked about her previous five-husbands-now-new-boyfriend love life. He went for the heart. He saw the hurt, the wounded-ness, the hiding behind academic, theological discussion and invited her to be healed. 

What about you and I?

If Jesus and his disciples walked down my street today, and the disciples stopped, pointing in my front window (where I am currently sitting) and whispered . . . asking Jesus, "What's her problem? Why is she the way she is?" Jesus would correct them (as he did in Scripture which is kinda cool!) but then he'd walk over and (oh, my stomach just went into a knot thinking about how intense this would be!) and he'd knock on my door. I'd let him in. He'd see my brokenness, my wounded-ness my greatest fears and he's get right in my face and offer healing. Not necessarily physical healing, but maybe something internal, something that needed heart-healing . . . Jesus would know, he'd see through my hiding, my cover up ways and address my deepest need.

Jesus answered his speculating, analyzing, needing-more-information disciples with this: "You're asking the wrong question. You're looking for someone to blame. There is no such cause-effect here. Look instead for what God can do. We need to be energetically at work for the One who sent me here, working while the sun shines. When night falls, the workday is over. For as long as I am in the world, there is plenty of light. I am the world's Light".

This week, let's allow Jesus to heal us. Let's stop talking about other people like they are a specimen in a lab and let's get up close, love, pray for, care for, practically attend to the needs they have and ultimately point them toward Jesus, the healer!

Let's have that kind of week!

Last night I sat down on my driveway. The cool air felt good on my feverish forehead as I round the second week of a cold. The weeds in the cracks that ran up and down the long stretch of cement were growing tall and spreading out wide like tentacles. So I grabbed a sharp knife, a garbage bag and sat myself down to tackle the job. At first, I felt relaxed and refreshed by the cool air, the sun setting behind pink, outlined clouds and the quiet street with my dog resting her head on the back of the couch watching me from inside. But then, slowly, I began to feel a bit self-conscious. "None of my other neighbours do this," I thought. "They are going to think I'm strange. What will I say to the dog walkers coming my way? What kind of clever joke can I make? Quite a weed harvest!" I'll say. "No, that sounds lame . . " And without realizing it, I was 1/3 done the weed pulling having spent my time measuring the outcome of possible conversations that would happen. 

I shook my head. Ridiculous.

Starting fresh on the 2/3's remaining driveway, I began to enjoy the cool air, prayed for my neighbours and reflected on a book that I had read this past week. I calmed right down and enjoyed the sunset-weed-pulling-driveway-sitting evening. Later, as I was sweeping up the mess, one of my 80 year old neighbours was driving home and as he passed by, he pulled his car over and parked. He got out and I took off my gloves and walked over to greet him. He had just been out driving the same walking route that he and his wife used to walk before she passed away a few years ago. He expressed, "Sometimes, it's just so lonely." I gave him a hug and we talked for awhile. He's a good friend of both Randy and I and we loved his wife as well. He is one of the most honest, genuine people I've ever met and he says what he's feeling without shame. I admire that about him. I thought back to my self-conscious "what clever things can I say to my neighbours when they walk by?" thoughts from earlier on, and shook my head again. 

In reading John chapter 8 this week, I was impressed with the bold words of Jesus. He was being questioned and people were trying to figure him out. He spoke clearly, boldly and in obedience to His Father. He didn't measure the outcome of his words, or pick ones that would warm the crowd to himself. He said truthful things and as we know from the rest of Scripture, he was without sin, speaking and acting in full obedience to God. He didn't do what I had done and imagined the most clever way to "look good" or "look impressive" or "justify actions" as I did on my driveway that evening. He just spoke clearly, honestly, in obedience to God. 

Imagine the freedom we could experience if we lived that way. Imagine not caring what people think of you but only caring about pleasing God. Imagine getting used to people not liking what you say, maybe having some enemies, some people who hate you. Is that possible? Should we, as Christians, as followers of Jesus have enemies? Here's what Jesus says about that in John 15, "If you find the godless world is hating you, remember it got its start hating me. If you lived on the world's terms, the world would love you as one of its own. But since I picked you to live on God's terms and no longer on the world's terms, the world is going to hate you."

I don't know what that means for you, but if you're like me, I imagine there are areas in your life that get measured. We measure the outcome. We carefully plan conversations or scenarios–not to live in obedience to God–but to save our own skins, to impress, to appear a certain way. To live pretentiously in order to gain favour from man rather than God. 

God's ways, much like my neighbours honest comment about his own loneliness, are true. They don't need pre-work or after-thought . . . God's ways are direct. They require obedience and at the core, they are about love.

May we be people who live in the fresh air of God's rest, his leading, his straight-forward ways and the core truth that nothing, nothing in this world will satisfy the deepest longings of our hearts like God's love will. Thank God - literally!

It is near the annual feast of Tabernacles, a Jewish tradition. Jesus' brothers suggested that Jesus go so that all the people who were gathering there could get a good look at what Jesus was up to. (They were doing the "why don't you promote yourself? Advertise! Get your name out there!" speech that we do to those who we want to support their cause.) They didn't really understand the whole picture yet and could only see it in terms of popularity and exposure. So how did Jesus respond? Did he say, "Thanks guys, I appreciate the support. But the timing is just not right yet." or "I appreciate the encouragement, but let me explain to you my big plan for attracting followers." Nope. This is what he said, "Don't crowd me. This isn't my time. It's your time–it's always your time; you have nothing to lose. The world has nothing against you, but it's up in arms against me. It's against me because I expose the evil behind its pretensions." (Message version)

Hmm. I imagine, if I was standing there that I would probably nod, maybe a few too many times while internally wondering what my pretensions were and how Jesus might point them out. What is pretension anyway? The claim to something. The use of affectation to impress, to be ostentatious. The dictionary's example of the word use in a sentence is this: "He spoke simply, without pretension". 

We moved our bookshelves this month and I discovered an old favourite of mine that I started reading again this week, "Shame and Grace - Healing the Shame We Don't Deserve" by Lewis B. Smedes. Excellent book. 

He describes the difference between healthy and unhealthy shame. He writes, "Healthy shame is neat. It knows what it is after and once it finds the shame spot, it zeroes in on it with a painful smack and lets the rest of our lives alone. But unhealthy shame has no aim, no focus; it leaves us feeling like undefined, undifferentiated, free-floating failures." 

When you read through the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, you meet Jesus and his grace. But you also meet his truth, his desire to expose evil behind pretension, to call out sin, to pinpoint sin, right where it is, exactly and invite us out into freedom from it. He doesn't do the general shake of the head, eye roll, smirk or sigh that makes us want to say, "What? Why do you have that look on your face? What did I do? Tell me!" That is not Jesus. That is not his way. He speaks clearly, directly and exactly to the sin that is oppressing people. He names it. (Go ahead and explore the gospels, check it out for yourself. Jesus doesn't do any general shaming. He speaks specifically about what sin he is exposing and calls people out of it, away from it and toward faith in Him instead. He is clear. He doesn't leave you wondering . . . )

My Grandma was a guilty woman, I can't think of anything she should feel guilty for,  but she often acted as if she was.

One day, when I was in my twenties, newly married and with little ones at home, I thought I heard a noise at the front door. I waited to see if someone would knock or ring the doorbell but nothing happened so I went back to what I was doing. A little while later, I heard similar noises so I went to look and there was my sweet Grandma, in her blue polyester dress, buttons done up to the top and her belt neatly in place, curled hair, standing with arms full of groceries, cookies, and treats that she had brought over. "Grandma!" I rushed to open the door and invite her in. "What are you doing? How long have you been standing there?" She went on to explain that she was so sorry to make me come to the door, that she didn't want to ring the doorbell and that she couldn't bear to knock on the window because she didn't want to frighten the kids and didn't want to disturb me. So she just stood there, for awhile. Arms full of gifts, on my front porch. 

I loved my Grandma, I welcomed her in and thanked her for the goodies she brought for our family. I didn't scold her but I tried to explain that she was welcome. She was important enough to ring the doorbell or bang on the door and inconvenience us to come get her. Even if she rang the doorbell, woke up the kids, I would have welcomed her in. We could have made a plan for the next time so that I would unlock the door and she could walk in without having to ring the bell. But standing there, guilty, apologetic, frozen with indecision and guilt? I didn't like that at all. That was not who she was meant to be. That was not how I saw her and not how I believed God saw her either.

Unhealthy shame does that. It covers us with a shadow that whispers "Bad! Bad! You're unworthy of other people's love, time, attention, energy, bad! Don't speak up. Don't request. Don't risk. Stay in the shadow! Don't ask for anything. Don't have needs. Bad."  

If we're honest, that is probably why many of us don't pray. Why times of worship at church burns in our hearts but we don't know how to respond. It may be why we busy ourselves with tasks rather than sitting still in the quietness of God's presence. We're afraid. 

But there is something about Jesus' way that draws me to Him. If He shoots straight and exposes the evil behind my pretensions, but loves me with a love that is greater than any human love is possible, then that is a very safe place to be. He calls me to live without pretensions, to be true, honest, free. To feel fear, joy, doubt and peace. To be angry and ask his help to deal with it. To struggle, to forgive, to resist temptation, to choose patience, to live in tension of unresolved issues and places of transition. That is the un-pretentious life. Jesus will help us live that way. 

Lord, remove the unhealthy shame cloud that hangs over us that is not related to anything that you have said to any of us. Reveal it for what it is and help us accept your pure love and grace. We are loved by you, accepted, forgiven and secure. We invite you, to expose the evil behind our pretentiousness. We want your truth to highlight the sin so we can be free! We know it will hurt, but you love us. We will take that pain over the heaviness of unnecessary and unhealthy shame any day. Alert us to taking on shame that is not conviction given specifically by you for our benefit. Sharpen our vision to see correctly. Thank you for your grace!

I'm pretty excitable. I love change, I love progress. I love problem solving, brainstorming, fresh ideas and creativity! When someone takes a bold step I'm high-fiving and celebrating! This is ALSO where God has had to stand in my way, many times and challenge my faith. And this is what happened in John chapter 6 too!

It's the 'Jesus feeding the crowds' story that I've read many times and maybe you have too. So, this week, I read it every day and watched for something new, something different than I'd seen before.

This time the crowd intrigued me. I noticed some of their words: "attracted by the miracles", "enthusiasm", "show us", "give us", "what do we do?".  As an excitable person, I can understand. Imagine being in a crowd of five thousand people and one person borrows the lunch bag of a little kid, prayers over it and hands out enough fish and bread to feed everyone with twelve baskets of leftovers! Amazing! I'd probably want to get up close, ask questions, see more! I might privately brainstorm about all the things that could be done, fixed, built, created, healed, changed and transformed with that kind of power . . . and how might I fit into all that???

But Jesus is not drawn to enthusiasm. In fact, he does something quite the opposite. He leaves! He hikes up a mountain to be alone. His close companions, the disciples, eventually got back into their boat and headed across the sea because it was getting dark. They didn't know where Jesus had gone and I'm sure they were a bit confused. To add to their confusion, a strong wind picked up making their trip back to shore difficult. A few miles out they noticed a man walking on top of the water. Yup. Jesus waves, reassures them, "It's just me" and they bring him on board and finish the trip together. The next day, the crowd figures out that Jesus had somehow gotten to the other side of the water without leaving with the disciples at the same time and they went to go find him. 

Here's where Jesus does what I also have experienced in my own life. He figuratively dumps a bucket of cold water on their enthusiasm by telling them what is necessary . . . faith!

But they don't get it! It's like a runner saying to his coach, "I can do it! I can run the marathon! Look at my energy and desire! I'm ready!" and the coach says, "Nope, not yet, first show me that you can run the half-marathon, then next year you'll be ready!" You can imagine how hard that would be for the runner to accept a slower pace, a shorter goal and the humility involved in accepting that he's not ready. 

Jesus does this with the crowd. He challenges their faith. He explains that all they want is bread, to be fed, filled with stomach food that Jesus can provide miraculously. Jesus says, "I am the Bread of Life. The person who aligns with me hungers no more and thirsts no more, ever." They still don't get it. He doesn't cater to their enthusiasm, he makes it even MORE difficult to understand! He goes on to say that they must eat his flesh and drink his blood in order to live forever! Gasp! The sheer graphic description of this started to turn the crowd away. (He didn't mean it literally of course, but he used words that pushed them to the limits of their faith.) You can imagine the looks on their faces . . . from excited enthusiastic expressions, eyebrows up, big smiles to . . . that awkward, fading smile, then a frown, arms folding, scratching their heads trying to understand. 

But you and I are not much different than that crowd, are we? Well, let me speak for myself. After a profound conversation with someone where it was clear that God was present and brought healing to the person's weariness or discouragement through our time together and by the power of God, I am grateful. But then . . . sometimes, I brainstorm. "Lord," I say, "Hey, let's do this again! Should I open an office somewhere and do spiritual counselling as a full time job! I'm ready Lord, let me at it! See my enthusiasm? My desire? Aren't I useful to you? Isn't this what you want?" And Jesus' response to me, time and time again has been much like his speech to this crowd. "Ya Heather? You want to be involved in what I'm doing? Okay . . . here's what that looks like. Be willing to suffer, like I have. Be obedient. Lay down your own desires and do what I ask you to do. Humble yourself. Be sustained by only the nourishment that I give you, not people's praise, not success or approval or whatever you usually like to snack on. I am the Bread of Life and only through faith in Me will you be whole and free and able to be someone that my power can flow through to offer this Bread to others. Lay down your enthusiasm . . . and put your faith in Me!" 

Tough words. Good words. True.

"Lord, reveal to us today, where enthusiasm has become louder than faith in You. Help us to lay down any idea or project or aspiration that is not in line with how You want to offer life to us, and through us as we share Your love and grace with the world. Amen"

In John, chapter 5, Jesus met a man who had been physically disabled for 38 years. After a short conversation, Jesus tells him to stand up, grab his bedroll that he had been laying on and walk! He does! He was instantly healed! This moment itself needs an entire book written about it, but the story keeps moving. It's as if John wants us to notice something else, bigger and more profound than just this moment. 

The next sentence says that the man walked away. I wonder, where did he go? (Where would you go if suddenly you were freed from what had held you back?) Back to family? Back to his old town? Can you imagine what he was thinking about? The possibilities . . . the new life in front of him . . . all the things he had dreamt during those years of laying on that bedroll.

And then, like a record scratch, the scene changed. Some religious folks, devout and committed to following meticulously defined rules stopped the man. They didn't see the grin on his face or how unused his sandals were or the flush of health in his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes. They just looked at their list of rules, or remembered them, and questioned him on what was it, number 55? or 97? or 742?, the one about "not working on a Sabbath day - which includes carrying one's bedroll." 

I imagine the man just stared at them for a moment with maybe a slight shake of his head before explaining that he had just been healed (maybe paused for effect) and the one who did it, instructed him to pick up his bedroll and walk. I imagine he may have been hoping that they would put their list down and give him a high-five!

Do you know any rule keepers? People who love their lists of rights and wrongs, black and white, checklists and check boxes? They often mean well and may be very committed to what the Bible says. The rules give them security knowing that they've done right that day and maybe a little satisfaction in pointing out when someone else has not. 

The story continues that Jesus ran into the newly-healed man in the temple. (It's kinda cool that the man was there. He could have easily just gone fishing!) They had another conversation and the man understood now that it was Jesus so he went back to where the religious guys were and told them that it was Jesus who had healed him. (Apparently, this healed man was getting around fine. He was loving his new legs!)

What happens next is interesting. John writes down that Jesus gives a HUGE explanation for his actions. Jesus doesn't always do this. Sometimes he just lets silence be his response but this time, he puts it all out there. He addresses the religious folks in the later part of chapter five, and says this, "You have your heads in your Bibles constantly because you think you'll find eternal life there. But you miss the forest for the trees. These Scriptures are all about me! And here I am, standing right before you and you aren't willing to receive from me the life you say you want." He continues, "I'm not interested in crowd approval. And do you know why? Because I know you and your crowds. I know that love, especially God's love is not on your working agenda." 

So I must ask myself this question, am I looking up for what God is doing in the lives around me or am I staring at a list of rights and wrongs? The list that these religious folks had was the old covenant that God had put in place with them as well as their own human-made list of accompanying rules that they thought should be added in. Jesus came to bring a new covenant, new 'rules' so to speak, and it rattled them. They weren't ready to let go of the old structure for the new. The new seemed too frivolous, too spontaneous and too free to track or record or check boxes. The "gospel", the "good news", the coming of the "Messiah" meant things were changing. It was no longer about outward appearances but about the heart, an internal heart change of devotion to God, rather than an outward system of rule-keeping. 

Which do you prefer? Are you struggling to love someone because their experience of knowing God doesn't match with yours? Are you trying to check a box that is uncheckable? Or what about you? Is God giving you freedom and you're afraid to embrace it because of the checkboxes that others try to put on you.

Let's put our lists down and look up to what God is doing. Let's high five those who God is healing! Let's understand that God wants our hearts to be pure, loving and devoted to Him and He is the one who makes our hearts right and when our hearts are right, our actions will follow . . . in that order. 

There's a story in John Chapter 4 that makes me question how we think about prayer. 

I've attended some prayer services and heard some responses to my chronic illness. "Have more faith, ask God to heal you, pray and fast for 24 hours, 48 hours, attend more prayer services, ask the elders of the church to lay hands on you and pray for you. Don't get off your knees in prayer until God grants you what you ask for! Your persistency will sway God's heart!"

But the message they're sending sounds more like, "the harder you work, the better chance at getting what you want. It's up to you to manipulate God's healing generosity!" That's not what I see in this story about Jesus.

Let's set the scene: Jesus has been in Samaria and gaining popularity. (See last week's blog "living water" for that story.) People are really beginning to believe that he is in fact the Messiah!

But, not being one to pursue fame, he leaves Samaria for Galilee, his home town. Normally,  prophets were not respected in their home towns but as Jesus entered, he was welcomed. The "welcome", however, was tainted with a few issues.

John Piper describes these issues as: pride of attachment to someone special (a vicarious sense of importance, using him for their own ego) a sense of entitlement ("he's our home-town guy, we've got dibs on miracles") and over-familiarity with Jesus ("we watched him grow up here, we know his family, he's Joseph's kid"). Piper says that the first two, pride of attachment to someone special and a sense of entitlement minimize his grace and the over-familiarity with Jesus minimizes his power. (You can watch his video or read his article here.) 

So, back to the story.

A royal official from the King's palace in another city comes to Cana where Jesus was and begs him, "Come and heal my son, he's dying!" Jesus' scolds him! He accuses this man of just wanting a magic show. But the man pleads, insisting that if Jesus doesn't heal his son, his son will die. Jesus sees this man's faith and says, "Go home, your son will live". It appears as if it takes the man more than two days to return to his home and before he arrives, his servants meet him part-way to tell him that his boy was healed. He asked them, "What time did this happen?" They said, "Yesterday, around 1pm!". The man realized this was the exact same time that Jesus had spoken the words. The man and his whole household believed in Jesus!

With one sentence, Jesus heals a child, long-distance, and instructs the man to go home. I tried to put myself in this man's sandals. I'd climb up into my chariot and sit down next to my servant and start the long journey home. It would be at least two days until I found out if this healing actually happened . . . but if it didn't . . . would my family wonder why I didn't bring Jesus, why I didn't get the healing in writing, why I didn't secure the healing somehow . . . did I do enough? What more could I have done?

The man who asked Jesus for help begged and pleaded, but it was Jesus' decision and Jesus' observation of this man's faith and Jesus' power that made it happen. It was Jesus. 

So should we even ask? Should we beg God to heal our children, remove our pain, free the oppressed and help us? Yes! Scripture is full of stories of God's desire for close relationship with us and He invites us to speak with Him about our desires and needs. But, what we learn from this story is that we must see God as He is, with respect and awe and in humility. Our faith in God's ability to heal must remain regardless of whether or not God chooses to heal. That is His choice, not our responsibility to manipulate the outcome. If faith is what God desires from us, then we must believe that God is capable to do anything . . . and respect Him to choose what is best. We don't have to understand it. We must let God be God. 

When I attended a prayer/healing service a few years ago, I went for a few reasons: my son suggested it and I wanted to honour his faith, I wanted to submit myself to the community of the church and allow God to work through his people and I wanted to be open and not afraid. It was a really neat experience, full and rich in many capacities. But the next day, I sat alone with the Lord and committed to him that I believed in His ability to heal me. I really did. But I also had a new sense of respect that wanted to stop asking. So I said to the Lord that unless He grabs me by the scruff of my neck and drags me to a healing/prayer service for my body, I am done asking. I accept the future of my body's state and trust that God knows best. For me, it was a step of faith. It has been 23 years with chronic pain and various illnesses and He doesn't appear to need to change that for some reason. So my faith decision was to accept it. He has given me peace, contentment and deep, deep joy. 

Let's replay the scene a little: 

Jesus and his disciples are on the road, travelling from the countryside of Judah through Samaria (a non-Jewish town) to the city of Galilee. Jesus stopped at an old well, Jacob's well, while his disciples continued on into the city for food.

A Samaritan woman showed up to retrieve water and Jesus did what was culturally wrong and asked her for a drink. (Samaritans were the un-lovely, the un-touchables, the despised and rejected ones of culture. She would have been shocked that a man, a Jewish man would ask her for help.)

They chat. Jesus engages in conversation with her that is warm and kind and truthful. He tells her that he has "living water" that will take away her thirst forever. He invites her to get her husband so they can talk more. She denies having one and Jesus reveals that he knows she has had five husbands as well as the current man she's living with right now. She dodges the issue by asking deep theological questions and Jesus moves the conversation back to issues of the heart. She then tells Jesus that when the "Messiah" comes, all questions will be answered. Jesus says, "I am He".  Just then, the disciples returned with some take-out lunch and the woman left, leaving her water bucket behind and a cloud of dust as she ran home.  

IMAGINE! for a moment, how meaningful this conversation was for Jesus. He just had a profound conversation with someone who believed in the Messiah. He was able to reveal his true identity by caring for her, treating her with dignity and challenging her at the same time. He offered grace and truth. He must've known the ripple effects would be huge as she ran back to her village to tell them about Jesus (and she did! and they all came back to see him!)

But in the meantime, the disciples showed up.

I imagine Peter was munching on bread and Matthew might have been tossing grapes up into the air and catching them in his mouth. Perhaps a grape or two fell to the ground as they approached and saw the scene before them. 

Scripture says that although the disciples said nothing, their faces showed their shock for what they saw. So, they did what any human, practical response might be and said, "Jesus . . . want a sandwich?" And this next line is the one that stopped me in my reading:  Jesus responded, "I have food to eat you know nothing about . . . The food that keeps me going is that I do the will of the One who sent me, finishing the work he started. " (John 4, The Message)

All that mattered to Jesus in that moment was that he was doing what his purpose was about! He met someone's true hunger and thirst and offered what was the most satisfying and nourishing thing he could . . . a relationship with God! He revealed the generosity and love of God in his actions and words. Jesus was God-incarnate, God-up-close, God-relationship-able (I know that's not a real word . . . but I like it.)

So I've been wondering . . . what do I offer people? A sandwich? or living water?

And I'm realizing that until I am experiencing the refreshing life-giving water of a real relationship with Jesus in my own life, I won't be convinced that its any good for others. I must be drinking the living water myself. And if I'm not, what am I being nourished with? Hobbies? Distractions? Successful projects? a good hair day? new clothes? Relationships? Honestly, what are the things that are sustaining me and that I can't live without? If it's not a relationship with Jesus, then I might just be eating dry, crusty sandwiches and offering that to others too.  I don't want to be about sandwiches.

Lord, your conversation with the woman at the well is also how you relate to me! You love me, you know me, you offer me dignity and you acknowledge my hunger and thirst. You offer me more than just plain water and sandwiches. I accept your real relationship love today. Reveal what those other things are that I look to for satisfaction and fulfillment and help me to set those things to the side. You know what my true desires are and that deep longing in my soul can only be filled with relationship with You. Thank you Lord. 

Before this dinner together, Judas, one of Jesus' devout followers and friend, had already schemed with the high priests in a plot to have Jesus murdered for 30 pieces of silver. The plan was secretly made and . . . Judas, with a pocket full of coins, shows up for dinner. Ever had a dinner like that?

Jesus reveals that there was someone in the room who was a traitor and Judas ran out. Awkward. The eleven disciples shared this dinner together as Jesus told them how much he loved them by explaining what the bread and the cup of wine really meant. They ate and drank, sang songs, sharing this moment and this meaningful and deeply relational time together. 

Then Jesus tells them that before the night is over, one more of the disciples will deny knowing Jesus three times. Three times! Then they walk together to a garden called Gethsemane where Jesus asks his disciples/friends to pray but . . . they fall asleep and the soldiers come. 

Communion in Chaos. This beautiful dinner together, carefully prepared and filled with meaning existed right between betrayal and denial! 

Jesus invites us into deep, intimate relationship with him in the middle of chaos. He doesn't wait for life to settle down or for everyone to get their act together. He prepares dinner, makes invitations, gathers us close, tells us He loves us EVEN THOUGH He knows our hearts and our weaknesses. He loves us. 

Are you facing chaos in your life? In your loved one's lives?

Hear the invitation of Jesus to come, sit with Him, have dinner. Let Jesus love you. Let Jesus speak truth to you. Let Jesus draw you close in that all-knowing-close relationship that we so long for but terrifies us at the same time. Cry, weep, grieve, laugh, confess, talk, listen. Accept the relationship-ease that He accepts you as you are and understand that He is not surprised by your chaos - He is with you - He understands and He invites you to come close. 

Lord, thank you that You understand. I feel unworthy in your presence, unfit to sit at your table and awkward in your gaze. You know me better than I know myself. I accept your love, your gift of grace and your truth which cuts through my fear and gives life and freedom. I accept that you want to be with me in my chaos, in my mess, in my fears and in my lonely and anxious moments. Thank you for offering closeness, communion in chaos. I need that right now. Thank you, amen.

In conversations this past week, I heard stories of people's growth, of maturity, of being less afraid and open to new things and I also heard people panic at the latest news tweet as if it rocked their whole world. At this morning's memorial service, we heard stories of longing for health to improve and then grief . . . as our friend faced reality and made plans for the probable outcome. His words . . ."God is good".  Illness was the impact and it changed many things for him and for his family, but the un-moveable? His love for God and his loved ones.

Airplanes give instructions to show us how to brace for impact. The goal is to lean into it while preserving life and avoiding injury as much as possible. It's not about denying or avoiding the reality of the impact. That would be ridiculous. It is about seeing it and bracing for it. It is about preserving what is already good. 

Today I helped set up a display for our friend's funeral. It was an interesting exercise to place significant items, physical items, on a stand that represented who he was and what life was about for him. I reflected, as most people do, what might be on my display someday . . .

So when those impact moments come in our lives, what will we want to preserve? What can we let go of that doesn't really matter? And if we want to preserve something, that means that it must be very valuable to us. It must be evident in our calendars, in our budget, in our priorities, in our speech, our to-do lists and in the way we spend our energy. If it is the most valuable treasure, then everything in our lives would be centered around preserving it and protecting it as much as possible from total impact.  At the core, I think all this pondering is about purpose.

Jesus understood purpose. He climbed a hill together with his disciples and as they sat down to learn from him, this is how Jesus addressed the unspoken question of the heart, "What am I here for? What is my purpose?"

Jesus said, "You’re here to be light, bringing out the God-colors in the world. God is not a secret to be kept. We’re going public with this, as public as a city on a hill. If I make you light-bearers, you don’t think I’m going to hide you under a bucket, do you? I’m putting you on a light stand. Now that I’ve put you there on a hilltop, on a light stand—shine! Keep open house; be generous with your lives. By opening up to others, you’ll prompt people to open up with God, this generous Father in heaven." Matthew 5:14-16

Let's take time this week to see where our purpose is. Let's ask God to reveal the areas in our lives that we've been preserving that perhaps we need to let go of. Let's listen, wait, pray and allow God to speak clearly into our lives so that we can be "light, bringing out the God-colors in the world!" I like that job description. I think my light needs some dusting - perhaps that is what God has been showing me. :) 

Tonight, I did a late-night grocery run.  

Superstore was open until 11:30pm and I had a nap in the afternoon and a strong cup of coffee around 7pm so I figured I could do a late shop. Also, I just wanted to get out of the house. I wasn't sure why, I just felt irritable and wanted to get out. 

As I wandered through the isles my mind began to tally up the day's events. It had been a good day. I relaxed, accomplished some tasks, organized my desk, got a few things done and enjoyed time with my family. My folks stopped in for a visit. I watched an episode of one of my favourite shows and had a piece of my son's birthday cake in the afternoon. It was a good day . . . so why this irritable, rattled feeling?

I put a jug of milk in the cart, some yogurt and cheese and headed toward the bakery. A few more items off my list and I'd be done. Maybe I just needed to get out more often, maybe that's why I felt irritable. But no, I reasoned with myself, I had been out quite a bit actually. I mentally went back through the calendar of the last week. It had been quite busy. Lots of good and important conversations with friends and family and neighbours. Lots of emails, paperwork and errands. Creativity and fresh energy coming from everyone in our home.  All good and enjoyable things. I should be feeling fine. 

As I packed the groceries into the van, I started to understand something about myself. I have a strange love for both chaos and order. For instance, we reorganized our entire basement this week to make a larger art studio space for my husband, a workshop for tools and a spot for the weights. It was fun and we made a giant mess in order to switch everything around. I am quite comfortable in chaos and I am patient to let the mess sit for awhile while we figure it out, but I made sure that our bedroom and upstairs stayed as tidy as possible. Chaos in the basement, order on the main floor - no problem. My mind and heart seem to long for a quiet, non-stimulating environment in order to slow down and rest and I could take a break from creativity and change by coming upstairs.  The balance of that seemed to be just right. 

Pulling into the driveway, I noticed I felt a bit more calm. Once I unloaded the groceries and put them away, I went to my room and closed the door. My room was tidy and calm but my heart and mind felt cluttered, chaotic, full of conversations and important events. I haven't done much journalling this week and I think that makes a big difference for me. Journalling helps me empty my thoughts onto paper so I can see what is there, what needs to be sorted, eliminated or brought before the Lord for help and wisdom!

Ahh . . . a cluttered heart and mind. Order was needed. So, I journalled for awhile tonight and found a few key things that stood out as to why I was feeling so rattled. My focus sharpened and perspective cleared. I was able to plan out the next week with a pace and schedule that better suited where I was at and allowed for rest and reflection. 

I'm thankful for that irritable, rattled feeling. It's like a warning light that alerts us that something needs our attention. Solitude and writing seems to help turn that red light off for me.

What works for you?

Yesterday was windy.

It swept my hair up and over my face. It opened my handbag and threatened to remove anything that wasn't zipped in. People clutched their jackets tight to their necks and leaned over, squinting and moving fast to get from their cars to their next destinations. It was loud, dusty and frustrating.

When I got home, I was relieved to get inside, made a hot cup of coffee, sat down to do some reading and found this: 

"Do not hesitate to love and to love deeply. You might be afraid of the pain that deep love can cause. When those you love deeply reject you, leave you, or die, your heart will be broken. But that should not hold you back from loving deeply. The pain that comes from deep love makes your love even more fruitful. It is like a plow that breaks the ground to allow the seed to take root and grow into a stronger plant.  Every time you experience the pain of rejection, absence, or death, you are faced with a choice. You can become bitter and decide not to love again, or you can STAND STRAIGHT IN YOUR PAIN and let the soil on which you stand become richer and more able to give life to new seeds."  Henri Nouwen, The Inner Voice of Love.

Yesterday, no one stood straight in the wind. We all clutched tightly, winced, bent over and tried to escape it. So I thought, what would it be like to stand straight in the wind? Or in our pain?

We would have to believe that we could stand, that it wouldn't overpower us and that we were strong enough to take the full force of it. We'd have to be willing to feel the chill, the uncomfortable feeling of wind and pain and instead of trying to avoid it, embrace it and face it somehow. 

I remember when I realized that Endometriosis was a chronic illness and that pain wouldn't ever really go away. I remember the chill of that moment, the reality of what it meant. It had been seven surgeries, multiple tests and procedures. I had been fighting with God, begging and bargaining with him to take it away, remove it from my story, "then I can get on with my life" I would say to God. But then I heard a gentle voice, not audible, just a deep sense in my soul that God was speaking. "This IS your life and I am in it, I will help you." I cried . . . deeply, with grief and relief that perhaps my internal battle was over. 

Twenty years later, I still have pain but God's words have been true. He has been with me, given me purpose and meaning within the pain, strength and endurance, patience, joy and the ability to love and be loved. I have peace and contentment and am learning what it means to be deeply rooted and grounded in Him, which means that the wind doesn't seem so strong anymore.

As you face your own challenges this week, God can help you stand straight in the wind! May you find your strength in Him!

* As a side note, I wrote the title for my blog, closed my laptop, asked the gentleman next to me to watch my things while I went to the washroom and when I came back we started chatting. He's a machinist, a designer and an author. I never got around to writing while I was there. When I got home, I sat down to write my blog and started searching for images of a windmill - remembering that my new friend designed, built and photographed a windmill. So with his permission, I'll use this photo and give him a shout-out too. 

I started swimming last week and fell in love with it again!  Actually, my swimming suit is in the bag beside me and I'm heading there as soon as this blog is written. There is something about water that soothes and relaxes and refreshes all at the same time. I can have a good workout but not really know it because the water keeps me cool.  And for pain relief for adhesions from Endometriosis and previous surgeries . . . it's perfect. 

But I have to admit that I had grandiose thoughts within the first few minutes of being there. I started in the "slow lane" and doggie-paddled, floated on my back, adding a few strokes here and there but mostly staying slow. I looked at the "medium" and "fast" lanes and began to scheme how quickly I would be able to progress to those lanes. I wanted to belong over there!

Restraints are crucial for life.  Seat belts, harnesses, fences, and railings are all there to sustain life–to keep us alive! If we have to use them, like seatbelts in a car, then we learn to appreciate their value. If we choose not to use them, we may get pulled over and given a ticket or get in an accident and receive injuries. So, we submit to the restraints for the sustainability of our lives.

Nothing is restraining me from swimming. I could swim every day, twice a day and push myself as hard as I want for progress. In fact, the more I go, the better deal my monthly pass turns out to be. So financially, that would be a good thing. But, I understand both my drive to improve and my impatience and perhaps embarrassment for being in the "slow lane". 

Restraining our spending habits sustains the life of our finances. Restraining our words, anger or reactive comments sustains the integrity of our relationships. Restraining our choice of activities sustains our energy.

Makes sense doesn't it? So why is it so difficult to put self-imposed limits or restraints on our activities?

Here's what Paul says about our struggle: 

"In this way we are like the various parts of a human body. Each part gets its meaning from the body as a whole, not the other way around. The body we’re talking about is Christ’s body of chosen people. Each of us finds our meaning and function as a part of his body. But as a chopped-off finger or cut-off toe we wouldn’t amount to much, would we? So since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ’s body, let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren’t."  Romans 12:4-6 The Message (MSG)

Ah pride . . . there it is.

If I want a sustainable swimming experience without overdoing it or straining muscles or spending excessive amounts of time in that one activity, then I must practice restraint. I must stay in the slow lane, a few times per week, accepting my reality, my limits, my pace until I actually develop enough strength to move over one lane. Patience, humility, and self-control.

Another opportunity for God's grace in my life. That way, swimming in the slow lane is exercise for my body and my soul! 

My friend sent me a quick email about a month ago saying she was leaving on a trip and scrambling to clean her house before she left. She'd been sick and now that she was better, she felt it necessary to clean the house from top to bottom so the house was spotless before she left. In her email, she said, "Why do I do this? Write a blog about that!"  

She may have been joking . . . but I've decided to take her up on the challenge! 

But it's not just about her . . . I do it too. I think many of us do. We feel anxious about something, and do what we can to secure the area, clean up, make things perfect, relieve ourselves of that out-of-control feeling. 

Cognitive behavioral therapy would describe it as a "safety behavior". We do something because we perceive there is a danger or feared catastrophe and we engage in safety behaviors to avoid or prevent the feared outcome from happening. A much more helpful way, however, is to challenge our unhelpful belief about something . . . rather than engaging in these behaviors which only reinforce the fear.

So for instance, here is what one of my friends does. When she is in a social setting that feels uncomfortable, instead of engaging in safety behaviors which for her are (going to the bathroom to check her appearance, rehearsing people's names, pre-planning conversations, being highly attentive-vigilant to people around her, and always having a smile on her face), she says to herself, "Oh, hello anxiety. I see you . . .  trying to warn me of danger. Thank you, but there is none. I'm good." And then she sits back and relaxes for a few minutes. It works brilliantly for her and saves her many trips to the washroom and the exhausting work of trying to be perfect!

Perhaps, cleaning our homes (to the point of exhaustion) before leaving on trips can be addressed the same way. We could say, "Oh hello anxiety. You are trying to warn me of danger, but I look around and don't see any. This is my home, my safe place, my haven and I can return to it and take care of it after my trip as well. Its cleanliness doesn't relate to whether I am loveable or valued. It is just a house, where I live. I will clean it so it is hygienic and appropriately tidy but there is no danger if dust is on the table or spots on the mirror. This house and its dust will welcome me home after my holiday and invite me to relax  - because that is what home is for." 

And once we've acknowledge the reality of anxiety creeping in, have greeted it and said "no thank you - no danger here!" then we can focus on the truth. 

If we have said yes to God's love for us, then He has given His very Spirit to us–within us–to counsel, guide, correct, calm and remind us of the truth of who God is and who we are. 

"Trust God from the bottom of your heart; don’t try to figure out everything on your own. Listen for God’s voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;  he’s the one who will keep you on track." Proverbs 3:5

So, should we clean our houses before going on holidays? Of course. Nothing wrong with that activity. But if we have been given the Spirit of God within us, then we are not all alone. We can stop, breathe, acknowledge anxiety - dismiss it, and say hello to the Lord instead. We can invite Him into our activity. We can sing and worship, turn some music on and turn our tasks into God-honoring, restful activities for our souls and the people around us. We may even end up being more productive! 

So, as the sun warms my back here at Starbucks and as I prepare to go home and begin to tackle my own to-do list, join with me in a prayer?

Lord, may I know your love today as I do regular, ordinary tasks. May the mess around me remind me that I live in a post-garden-of-eden world where things are not perfect and Your grace abounds. Thank you for the opportunity to use my skills and talents in the tasks ahead and may I seek to bring honor to Your name, not my own. Thank you that we are not slaves to fear or anxiety or worry. We can listen for your voice and let it be the loudest! Thank you Lord!

Have a great day friends!

One profound thing that this image has for me is that as I sit beside Him, I imagine glancing at his hands and seeing the scars from the nails. I see a suffering Saviour, a God who knows pain, someone who faced the ultimate loneliness, rejection, sadness and physical pain. Sometimes, when I imagine seeing those scars, it quietens and humbles me and I just sit beside Him. My complaining starts to diminish. My requests seem petty. It helps me understand how I must too suffer, bearing my own pain and the pain of others. Sharing in his suffering.

I heard a song again this week and loved it. God's love song to us . . . and the proof of His love is in his scars. You can watch the video below and/or read the lyrics:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=usD-xpjXkvY

Drops in the Ocean - Hawk Nelson

I want you as you are not as you ought to be
Won't you lay down your guard and come to me
The shame that grips you now is crippling
It breaks my heart to see you suffering
'Cause I am for you, I'm not against you

If you wanna know how far my love can go
Just how deep, Just how wide
If you wanna see how much you mean to me
Look at my hands, Look at my side
If you could count the times I'd say you are forgiven
It's more than the drops in the ocean, ooh ooh

Don't think you need to settle for a substitute
When I'm the only love that changes you
And I am for you, I'm not against you
I am for you, I'm not against you

If you wanna know how far my love can go
Just how deep, Just how wide
If you wanna see how much you mean to me
Look at my hands, Look at my side

Praying that you have a great week, that your perspective on who God is will be renewed and that you will know that you are not alone, that your God understands and will strengthen you and give you purpose and peace!